Friday, February 20, 2015

something to let go

On Monday, a colleague asked, "So what are you giving up for Lent?"

It occurred to me several days ago that perhaps this was something worth approaching from a different angle for a change. You may be familiar with the idea of the "God-shaped hole" that exists in every human heart (words that are popularly, and as I have recently discovered, incorrectly attributed to Blaise Pascal).

The rest of the thought about the God-shaped hole, of course, is that we try to stuff that hole with all kinds of other things that are ultimately unsatisfying because they are not God. So, then, the idea for Lent should be to let go of something (or somethings) with which we have been attempting to fill the God-void. To let go... instead of to give up.

Okay, I'm sure I could come up with some bad "Frozen" joke here, but I'll refrain.

If I consider letting go of something, there seems to be a certain kind of peace in the relinquishment - as in, relinquishing it to God, offering it to him in order that he might come to fill my own God-void. 

I think that sometimes we get so absorbed by the idea of giving something up for Lent, that we don't really think about why we're doing it. Perhaps it's only semantics, but the idea of letting go of something for Lent reminds me of the reason why I should, more so than if I think of it in terms of giving something up. It reminds me of my own longing for God - and of God's longing for me - and that helps me to consider more deeply what I should "let go."

Lord, help me to see more clearly what is holding me back from you. 

(Photograph taken at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Parish - "Redemptorist Church" - Kansas City, MO - July 2014)

Saturday, February 14, 2015

50 shades and real love

I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. 

Don't get me wrong, St. Valentine is awesome. (Well, all the saints are!) I wrote about him on V-Day last year, here

This year, though, there are other things on my mind. 

My husband and I don't really "celebrate" Valentine's Day, but last night, we saw the movie "Old Fashioned". It was great - and I whole-heartedly recommend it - but that's not what's on my mind, either. 

What's on my mind, is the line of women waiting for the next showing of "Fifty Shades of Grey" as we left the movie theater last night. 

All I can say is, WHY, ladies? WHY?? 

Disclaimer: I haven't read the "Fifty Shades" books, and have no intention of reading them; what I know of these books is what I've read in the media. 
Now that that's out of the way... 

Why, in a culture that acts so concerned about domestic violence and women's freedoms and women's rights, are women lining up to see a movie that is about a controlling, manipulative - dare I say ABUSIVE - relationship between an (initially) naive young woman and a jealously possessive stalker-type guy? 

And why do so many women find the jealously possessive stalker-type guy otherwise known as Christian Grey so attractive? 

I suspect it is at least in part because he pursues Ana, though in such a twisted way. In a time when commitment has fallen by the wayside and casual hookups are becoming the norm, women are not accustomed to men pursuing them, "wooing" them, if you will. 

But as far as I can tell, Christian Grey is only pursuing Ana for her body. He's not interested in pursuing her for her mind or her soul, or interested in her wellbeing in any real sense - because it's all about him, what he wants and what he "needs".

What's so attractive about that?

Seriously. Without reading the book or seeing the movie, I can tell you that I don't need, or want, a Christian Grey in my life. I don't need someone who tells me that, "If you do this, I will be devoted to you, and only you..." 

That's not love. That's not devotion. Real love is not an "if-then" proposition; it's not a quid pro quo.

Real love is not about manipulating or stalking or controlling the person you're with, or using them to fulfill your sexual fantasies. 

Real love is sacrificial: "willing the good of the other as other" (St. Thomas Aquinas) - making the choice to love that person, whether you feel like it or not, without twisting them to fit your own idea of who they should be. 

Real love is not easy. But most things worth doing, aren't easy. And ladies and gents, we're not "things," so no snickering about "doing" each other, or about the ones who are worth it not being "easy".

We are human beings, women and men with inherent, God-given dignity; we're more than soulless sacks of chemicals that are constantly colluding to form illusions that we call emotions. 

How different would our world be if we treated each other like that's true, for a change? 

Monday, February 2, 2015

oh, atlanta

Last week found me away from home... again... Traveling through four states, and stopping in three of the four, in the course of five days is exhausting, to say the least.


Last Thursday night found my companions and I in Atlanta. 

Oh, Atlanta. All I'd ever known was your airport, which I thoroughly despise. 

On the long drive to Atlanta on Thursday afternoon, I browsed restaurants on my smartphone, at the request of my traveling companions - over the last several months of our traveling together, I have apparently proven myself adept at selecting good restaurants. 

As I browsed through the establishments listed on OpenTable, one caught my eye: Babette's Cafe. Surely, I thought to myself, this was a reference to Isak Dinesen's story Babette's Feast. Intrigued, I quickly browsed the menu, liked what I saw, and booked a table. 

Babette's Feast is a wonderful short story (adapted for film in the late 1980s) about two austere Protestant Norwegian sisters - Martine and Philippa - who refuse marriage at their father's behest, breaking the hearts of two men - one, a young lieutenant, and the other, a talented opera singer - in the process. 

One dark night years later, a peculiar Frenchwoman arrives on the sisters' doorstep, with a letter from the rejected opera singer - introducing Babette, and imposing on their Christian generosity to take her into their home. "Babette can cook," the letter closes. 

Several more years later, as the anniversary of their now deceased father's birthday approaches, the sisters wish to remember him with the other members of the church he had founded. They wish only a simple remembrance, but Babette, who has just been notified that she has won ten thousand Francs in the French lottery, implores them to allow her to create a French feast for the guests. They finally give in, and she goes about the planning. 

Babette creates a truly grand meal, foreign to these austere Norwegians, and as the dinner is served and wine flows freely, a sort of redemptive ecstasy falls upon the guests - their hearts are opened to one another in love and laughter, alleviating bitterness and forgiving past wrongs - healing painful wounds. 

The feast completed, and guests departed, the sisters realize that the evening's mastermind has had no share in the fruit of her labors, and rush into the kitchen to find Babette exhausted - completely spent, surrounded by a multitude of dirty dishes. She has sacrificed herself for tremendous good, yet the only thing Martine recognizes is, "It was a very nice dinner." 

Indeed, Babette's Cafe in Atlanta was a reference to the short story - a framed print of the movie poster graced the wall by the door. We had a lovely dinner there, with plenty of good food and wine - but most importantly, the opportunity to enjoy one another's company as friends instead of as simply a group of engineers who were, yet again, traveling together. 

Like the story, that evening reminded me that there is always more to things than what we see or can even understand. In the story, Babette is, of course, an allegory for Christ, and her amazing dinner is allegorical of Christ's sacrifice - which we recall every time we attend the celebration of the Eucharist. (Fr. Robert Barron has an excellent commentary on this in his book Eucharist.) On the plane of our daily lives, though, we all have known a "Babette". It might be the cook making our dinner in a restaurant kitchen, the spouses left at home alone for the week while we are on travel, or something very different. We often fail to recognize their sacrifices, just as we often fail to recognize the sacrifice of Christ. 

Oh Atlanta... I would sooner forget your airport, but I hope I always remember dinner at Babette's Cafe - and more importantly, of what it reminded me.