It happens all the time...
Assuming someone's doing fine is so much easier than genuinely finding out if they are.
In the eyes of friends, families and colleagues, I'm always doing great, even if I try to say that this is not the case. If we're being honest, it's just laziness on their part. Because if I'm "doing fine" they don't have to be there.
Or worse, they can use my disclosed vulnerability to load me up with their own drama. So if I make the mistake of sharing some of my concerns for five minutes, they share theirs for two hours and expect me to make space for them forever after.
It's true I'm happy, strong and resilient. I've got lots of resources to make myself okay and to help others too... But on rare occasions*, the entire system breaks down, I don't want to be there for anybody and I wish someone was there for me.
*[Like when I'm 40 weeks pregnant, have been throwing up day and night for nine months, sleeping on a recline to try to ward off the heartburn and holding down a job that's a two hour commute from my home. Like when I face the delivery of a 4kg+ baby and countless trips to the French consulate in London only days after the birth to try to get a baby passport while orchestrating a move to Australia via France to keep the grandparents happy].
Friday 15 July 2011
Saturday 9 July 2011
If you speak Italian...
You may now go and read the transcripts of a beautiful series of talks given by Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini on the Miserere psalm.
Seriously, some prayers just sound a whole lot better in Italian, no matter which language they were initally written in. I also suspect that the Italian language, and the beautiful phrases and habits of the heart which are associated with it, has the ability to convey a joyful, hopeful and sunny quality to theological reflections which could sound almost grim in other languages.
Furthermore, I am getting increasingly concerned about the lack of curiosity of the English speaking world towards thinkers whom the whole of continental Europe holds in very high esteem. Martini's works have been translated in French, Spanish, German, Polish and many other languages, but very few of these works are available in English!
English is NOT the only game in town, though many think it is. Meanwhile, people who speak nothing but English deprive themselves of some of the best theological thinking there is. Anyway, and just for the record, here is a beautiful (though not very precise) translation of psalm 51 in Italian:
Pietà di me, o Dio, secondo la tua misericordia;
nel tuo grande amore cancella il mio peccato.
Lavami da tutte le mie colpe,
mondami dal mio peccato.
Riconosco la mia colpa,
il mio peccato mi sta sempre dinanzi.
Contro di te, contro te solo ho peccato,
quello che è male ai tuoi occhi, io l'ho fatto;
perciò sei giusto quando parli,
retto nel tuo giudizio.
Ecco, nella colpa sono stato generato,
nel peccato mi ha concepito mia madre.
Ma tu vuoi la sincerità del cuore
e nell'intimo m'insegni la sapienza.
Purificami con issòpo e sarò mondato;
lavami e sarò più bianco della neve.
Fammi sentire gioia e letizia,
esulteranno le ossa che hai spezzato.
Distogli lo sguardo dai miei peccati,
cancella tutte le mie colpe.
Crea in me, o Dio, un cuore puro,
rinnova in me uno spirito saldo.
Non respingermi dalla tua presenza
e non privarmi del tuo santo spirito.
Rendimi la gioia di essere salvato;
sostieni in me un animo generoso.
Insegnerò agli erranti le tue vie
e i peccatori a te ritorneranno.
Liberami dal sangue, Dio, Dio mia salvezza,
la mia lingua esalterà la tua giustizia.
Signore, apri le mie labbra
e la mia bocca proclami la tua lode;
poiché non gradisci il sacrificio
e se offro olocausti, non li accetti.
Uno spirito contrito è sacrificio a Dio,
un cuore affranto e umiliato
tu, o Dio, non disprezzi.
Nel tuo amore fa' grazia a Sion,
rialza le mura di Gerusalemme.
Allora gradirai i sacrifici prescritti,
l'olocausto e l'intera oblazione,
allora immoleranno vittime sopra il tuo altare.
Seriously, some prayers just sound a whole lot better in Italian, no matter which language they were initally written in. I also suspect that the Italian language, and the beautiful phrases and habits of the heart which are associated with it, has the ability to convey a joyful, hopeful and sunny quality to theological reflections which could sound almost grim in other languages.
Furthermore, I am getting increasingly concerned about the lack of curiosity of the English speaking world towards thinkers whom the whole of continental Europe holds in very high esteem. Martini's works have been translated in French, Spanish, German, Polish and many other languages, but very few of these works are available in English!
English is NOT the only game in town, though many think it is. Meanwhile, people who speak nothing but English deprive themselves of some of the best theological thinking there is. Anyway, and just for the record, here is a beautiful (though not very precise) translation of psalm 51 in Italian:
Pietà di me, o Dio, secondo la tua misericordia;
nel tuo grande amore cancella il mio peccato.
Lavami da tutte le mie colpe,
mondami dal mio peccato.
Riconosco la mia colpa,
il mio peccato mi sta sempre dinanzi.
Contro di te, contro te solo ho peccato,
quello che è male ai tuoi occhi, io l'ho fatto;
perciò sei giusto quando parli,
retto nel tuo giudizio.
Ecco, nella colpa sono stato generato,
nel peccato mi ha concepito mia madre.
Ma tu vuoi la sincerità del cuore
e nell'intimo m'insegni la sapienza.
Purificami con issòpo e sarò mondato;
lavami e sarò più bianco della neve.
Fammi sentire gioia e letizia,
esulteranno le ossa che hai spezzato.
Distogli lo sguardo dai miei peccati,
cancella tutte le mie colpe.
Crea in me, o Dio, un cuore puro,
rinnova in me uno spirito saldo.
Non respingermi dalla tua presenza
e non privarmi del tuo santo spirito.
Rendimi la gioia di essere salvato;
sostieni in me un animo generoso.
Insegnerò agli erranti le tue vie
e i peccatori a te ritorneranno.
Liberami dal sangue, Dio, Dio mia salvezza,
la mia lingua esalterà la tua giustizia.
Signore, apri le mie labbra
e la mia bocca proclami la tua lode;
poiché non gradisci il sacrificio
e se offro olocausti, non li accetti.
Uno spirito contrito è sacrificio a Dio,
un cuore affranto e umiliato
tu, o Dio, non disprezzi.
Nel tuo amore fa' grazia a Sion,
rialza le mura di Gerusalemme.
Allora gradirai i sacrifici prescritti,
l'olocausto e l'intera oblazione,
allora immoleranno vittime sopra il tuo altare.
Friday 8 July 2011
House cats and wild cats
While I liked going to church as a kid, my family didn't. Neither did a lot of my friends or their families. They'd turn up for baptisms, weddings, funerals, and at times of major life crises. I know that a lot of people disapprove of that approach but it never bothered me.
The way I see it, in God's household there are house cats and there are wild cats. The house cats wouldn't even think of foraging for food in the open countryside when they are being so wonderfully cared for in-house. The wild cats sometimes tip-toe around the house and grab themselves the meal that is being laid out for them.
I know this well because I'm a recovering wild cat.
At some point, I did make the conscious decision to start behaving like a house cat. My reason for doing so is that the house cats have a duty to keep the house looking good and welcoming so it can be there and visible for when the wild cats are starving.
And yes, it's daunting. I'd rather not have that responsibility. But I also don't feel like I have a choice. It's like being dragged into a sports team when you're useless at that sport but you keep getting asked because without you there, there wouldn't be enough people for a team, and nobody would be able play. I feel I've been recruited to be on the house cats team and that I can't say no.
As grieved as I've ever felt that I did not have a sense of "calling", this is as close as it gets. I'd rather not have to be the face of the church because I wish the church looked better than me, but there you have it...
Unsurprisingly, the thing I'm best at is outreach to the wild-cats. Quite a few times I've amazed myself providing exceptionally good pastoral "answers" that I'd never even thought of before and didn't even know I had in me.
I've seen faith, hope and joy burst forth from chance conversations which people have initiated with me because of my notorious status as the "religious one". In most cases, the questions seemed to have been harboured for years but nobody "religious" was approachable enough for the people to explore them.
Let's face it, if you're a wild cat, you're not going to bare your soul to a formal religious figure whom you've never met before (although this can happen of course, usually at times of great crisis). Still a lot of the real pastoral stuff is done by the average house cats on the train, in the pub or after a late dinner.
Hence, the duty of the average house cats is at once incredibly simple and incredibly daunting. Just be who you are, go to church and don't be ashamed of it. No need to talk about it, just don't hide your faith. You're going to get saddled with some of the most deeply meaningful conversations ever.
And if the church hierarchy wants good outreach to occur, they'd better make sure you're the most beloved, well nourished and tenderly cared-for house cat you can be. One of their key jobs is to fill the house cats' heart with song.
So, on a more practical level, how do you ensure that the wild cats get some sustenance when they need it?
By being there, by being visible and by laying out the cat food at a place where the wild cats might find it. I mean even Simone Weil, the queen of all wild cats, was drawn in by Portuguese hymns sung in the street...
That's something Portugal, Spain and Italy do quite well. Church people are visible, their churches are open, and they often provide a table at the entrance of the church with some really good black-and-white flyers and small aterfacts such as holy cards and plastic rosary beads.
All of these fulfill the purpose of keeping the rumour of God alive in the world, and it's the wild cats who most eagerly pick them up.
I've picked up some seriously good, incrediby pastoral flyers in my time backpacking around in these countries. Some of them were nothing short of life-changing, the work of local priests explaining in 15 lines that God loves you and that you're not "going to hell", how to make a confession, how to pray for someone who is sick, how to pray when you're not even sure that there is a God.
So I wonder if one of my next endeavours will be to retrieve some of them, translate them into English, get them printed on some gritty A4 paper, and see if the parish council wants to let me put them on a small wooden table near the entrance.
The way I see it, in God's household there are house cats and there are wild cats. The house cats wouldn't even think of foraging for food in the open countryside when they are being so wonderfully cared for in-house. The wild cats sometimes tip-toe around the house and grab themselves the meal that is being laid out for them.
I know this well because I'm a recovering wild cat.
At some point, I did make the conscious decision to start behaving like a house cat. My reason for doing so is that the house cats have a duty to keep the house looking good and welcoming so it can be there and visible for when the wild cats are starving.
And yes, it's daunting. I'd rather not have that responsibility. But I also don't feel like I have a choice. It's like being dragged into a sports team when you're useless at that sport but you keep getting asked because without you there, there wouldn't be enough people for a team, and nobody would be able play. I feel I've been recruited to be on the house cats team and that I can't say no.
As grieved as I've ever felt that I did not have a sense of "calling", this is as close as it gets. I'd rather not have to be the face of the church because I wish the church looked better than me, but there you have it...
Unsurprisingly, the thing I'm best at is outreach to the wild-cats. Quite a few times I've amazed myself providing exceptionally good pastoral "answers" that I'd never even thought of before and didn't even know I had in me.
I've seen faith, hope and joy burst forth from chance conversations which people have initiated with me because of my notorious status as the "religious one". In most cases, the questions seemed to have been harboured for years but nobody "religious" was approachable enough for the people to explore them.
Let's face it, if you're a wild cat, you're not going to bare your soul to a formal religious figure whom you've never met before (although this can happen of course, usually at times of great crisis). Still a lot of the real pastoral stuff is done by the average house cats on the train, in the pub or after a late dinner.
Hence, the duty of the average house cats is at once incredibly simple and incredibly daunting. Just be who you are, go to church and don't be ashamed of it. No need to talk about it, just don't hide your faith. You're going to get saddled with some of the most deeply meaningful conversations ever.
And if the church hierarchy wants good outreach to occur, they'd better make sure you're the most beloved, well nourished and tenderly cared-for house cat you can be. One of their key jobs is to fill the house cats' heart with song.
So, on a more practical level, how do you ensure that the wild cats get some sustenance when they need it?
By being there, by being visible and by laying out the cat food at a place where the wild cats might find it. I mean even Simone Weil, the queen of all wild cats, was drawn in by Portuguese hymns sung in the street...
That's something Portugal, Spain and Italy do quite well. Church people are visible, their churches are open, and they often provide a table at the entrance of the church with some really good black-and-white flyers and small aterfacts such as holy cards and plastic rosary beads.
All of these fulfill the purpose of keeping the rumour of God alive in the world, and it's the wild cats who most eagerly pick them up.
I've picked up some seriously good, incrediby pastoral flyers in my time backpacking around in these countries. Some of them were nothing short of life-changing, the work of local priests explaining in 15 lines that God loves you and that you're not "going to hell", how to make a confession, how to pray for someone who is sick, how to pray when you're not even sure that there is a God.
So I wonder if one of my next endeavours will be to retrieve some of them, translate them into English, get them printed on some gritty A4 paper, and see if the parish council wants to let me put them on a small wooden table near the entrance.
Saturday 2 July 2011
Somebody tell me just what is humility?
Oh God, I think that all my understandings of humility are all very very wrong.
It's one of those areas of theology in which I definitely feel less than inspired and have zero inklings about where the life-giving truth might be hidden. This bugs me, because on many questions, I can usually find a good seam to explore. But on the topic of humility, I simply have no idea!
For a while, I thought that humility was a luxury. Basically, if you are secure in the things that matter, you don't need recognition all that much, you're free not to seek it and you can be as humble as you want because you're loved quite independently of any outward achievements. You don't waste any time seeking glory and you don't give a rats about what people think.
Now this strikes me as a very flawed answer. It's reverse snubbery I'm talking about here rather than humility. And I don't even know where to start...
It's one of those areas of theology in which I definitely feel less than inspired and have zero inklings about where the life-giving truth might be hidden. This bugs me, because on many questions, I can usually find a good seam to explore. But on the topic of humility, I simply have no idea!
For a while, I thought that humility was a luxury. Basically, if you are secure in the things that matter, you don't need recognition all that much, you're free not to seek it and you can be as humble as you want because you're loved quite independently of any outward achievements. You don't waste any time seeking glory and you don't give a rats about what people think.
Now this strikes me as a very flawed answer. It's reverse snubbery I'm talking about here rather than humility. And I don't even know where to start...
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