Essays - Fall, 2011

by Randy Roche, SJ


Below is a title and brief description of each essay. To read the essay,  click on the title.

Enough - From one perspective, there is not enough love in the world.

Solving for “X” - Even little children can successfully solve for this “X.”

Counting - We learn, sometimes very early, but also at other significant moments in our lives how much “we count,” as persons.

Red and Green Lights - Colors used in decorations appeal to our emotions, as do the familiar Christmas lights about us.

Electricity - Occasionally, we can bring to mind many diverse kinds of invisible but powerful forces that have beneficial effects in our lives.

More and Less - Spiritual quantities are measured differently than physical.

The Thank You Antidote - The antidote of “thank you” has its gracious effect upon all that disturbs us.

Unattractive - Often, we are attracted by the possibilities of helping another person or making a positive contribution.

Heavenly Pets - Consideration of an after-life for animals necessarily assumes that human life does not end with death.

Rhubarb Pie - We are all capable of much more in life than acting only according to our accustomed activities and attitudes.

Ripples - The ripples within us are directional.

In or Out - Praying is like getting into a boat.

Resting - Resting is a form of healing from life’s wear.

Enough

Part of life is making sure we have enough of food, clothing, and shelter, time, understanding, and love. For a party, we want to have enough food and drink, enough space for everyone, enough time to enjoy one another’s company. Many of our physical needs or wants can be quantified, as when we count the number of seats we can arrange in a limited space. But we cannot use numbers to measure how much love anyone has for us, though we know which of our friends will most likely answer a request for help and who of our acquaintances will never be asked.

We know that some persons with immense fortunes appear to have no concept of sufficiency, while a growing number of people have not enough to support themselves or their families. Opinions vary on whether or not there is enough love in the world. From one perspective, there is not enough love in the world as long as one person lacks daily bread, and from another point of view, love is the one human quality that is not limited by either time or space.

We have learned from our experiences that God does not take away the effects of our human limitations, including those that are imposed on some of us by the selfishness and injustice of others or that befall people through illness or other natural causes. Is there really enough love in the world if not even God’s infinite love fails to prevent pain and suffering?

Ignatius of Loyola, in proposing that we could profit greatly from imagining ourselves at the birth of Christ, suggests that God’s love for us is manifested more by sharing with us our human constraints, inconveniences, and suffering, than by taking control over persons and the environment. The choice that God made, not to become present among us with even the prerogatives of a middle-level manager, much less those of a C.E.O., is the most direct and efficacious means of communicating love to us. God has infinite knowledge and power, but exercises love in the manner that we ourselves do: we “rise to the occasion” when someone is in need. We take care of the weakest among us where there is no possibility of an equal response of love.

Most of us know what it is like to grow weary and worn out in acting with care and compassion not only for others, but also for ourselves, when we encounter pain and suffering. We might not have considered that we do not even have enough energy to fully encompass all of the joy and pleasure that enter our lives because of our physical and emotional constraints. We can only do so much, either in extreme emergencies or in profound experiences of enlightenment.

But love, even when we acknowledge that it is shown better in love than in deeds, is not itself a physical or emotional quality with accompanying limitations, but is essentially spiritual and unlimited. No one has a greater or lesser “supply” of love, though we know of ourselves that we grow in both our capacity to love, and in our awareness of who we love and how to better manifest the one aspect of ourselves that gives meaning and purpose to all that we think, say, and do.

We might not be able to answer to everyone’s satisfaction whether or not there is enough love in the world, but we can live as those who believe that we receive and give from the one and same source of God’s infinite love.

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Solving for “X”

If my mathematical skills in high school had developed beyond basic Algebra, I might have become a Physics teacher. But I was not adept at the art of solving for “x,” or much else in the field of mathematics and wound up in a profession (warning: bad pun to follow,) where I sometimes interact with people in solving for the “X” in Xmas.

Not many of us have a problem recognizing that the “X” stands for Christ, and that Christ is the person who was born in a stable and was put to death by crucifixion. Some of us might not have always known that “Christmas” is short for “Christ Mass.” In the U.S. the National Holiday of Christmas has its roots in the medieval celebrations throughout Europe when just about everyone in every place where there was a chapel or church participated in the evening Mass commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ.

Whereas mathematics usually relies on there being only one correct solution, solving for “X” at Christmas turns out to provide us with many levels of meaning. Our own birthdays are celebrations of one particular day of each year and are meaningful because we are alive. When we celebrate the specific date of a famous person’s birth or death, that person is not present. Rather, the celebration is straightforwardly ours, for purposes of remembrance, commemoration, or for encouragement to imitate the values and ideals of the one whose life we honor.

When we “solve for” the Christ of Xmas or of Christ Mass by reflecting on various possible implications, we enter an art gallery where many individual treasures are available to us. We can quickly read a catalog, or walk briskly through the rooms and look briefly at the displays of art, but if we are to appreciate any of them, we need to take some time to carefully observe them and to attend to the thoughts and feelings elicited by them.

We are much more likely to take delight in discovering the beauty and relevance of Christ through our reflections, than we are by laboring to “put Christ back into Christmas.” Besides, we are not likely to change the culture or the habits of those around us by anything other than our example. But just as our sense of compassion might be deepened by gazing upon Michelangelo’s “Pieta,” we will surely grow as caring and compassionate persons, no matter what our formal religious training or affiliation might be, when we ponder the Christ of Christmas.

Christ is born as a human who learns about life from personal experience as we do, but as God, refrains from taking on royal or administrative prerogatives, and thereby empowers us to be our best selves without needing to assume power over others. Christ is alive in our time and yet does not grow older each year as we do. The Christ of Christ Mass is the host for the banquet celebrations held all over the world through all ages, and gives his very self completely to those of any condition, culture, or way of life who trust him.

Even little children can successfully solve for this “X,” which turns out to be: Love.

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Counting

Children learn early in life how to count numbers. We learn, sometimes very early, but also at other significant moments in our lives how much “we count,” as persons. We have the capability of counting to ten before saying something that we might later regret. But the realization that “we count” is something that we usually learn from others, as they reflect to us our value as persons.

Our worth, however and to whatever degree we accept it, is not diminished if some people treat us as though we count for nothing. Just as we do not create our dignity as humans, neither can people give us our significance in the world nor can they take it away. But our experiences of interactions with others, both positive and negative, often affect how we feel about ourselves, so that, on some days more than on others, we are willing to acknowledge that “we count.”

Self-confidence is founded not so much on our accomplishments but rather on our God-given existence and concomitant purpose. And accepting ourselves as we are is of much more benefit to others than to us. Without wearing a sign on our foreheads, people know that they can count on us for assistance because they recognize intuitively that we ourselves “count.” No one can give what they do not have. We can make a positive difference in the lives of others not only by what we say and do, but by who we are, when we have learned to trust both our capabilities and our good intentions. Acknowledging our unique place in the world need not be a matter of self-centered pride, but a reflection of the “no-fault” insurance policy by which God chooses us and we accept our particular gifts and limitations.

Though even the youngest children “count” in our estimation of their worth, they have to be taught how to count from one to ten, and in so doing, begin to appreciate themselves as capable of acting on their own, as “counting.” We too can reflect on the skills we develop as being valuable, and recognizing that we find more fulfillment in applying ourselves to making life better for others than when we focus our energies entirely on ourselves. Much as we might take pleasure in finally taking time to clean and organize our personal space, we are likely to be more pleased with ourselves after we have helped someone else to overcome an obstacle.

All of us continue to learn about ourselves and our place in the world from our direct encounters with God, with others, through media, and by observation. We also have experiences of teaching, guiding, and leading others in ways that are often informal and not identified as such because we act more from who we are than according to specific categories and titles.

If we take some time for a brief spiritual exercise of “counting our blessings,” of reviewing at least some of the contributions we intend, desire, and make on behalf of others, we will be able to smile a bit and to recognize with simple honesty, “I count.”

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Red and Green Lights

In the Christmas Season, colored lights are in abundance as decorations. But on city street intersections, traffic lights run red and green all through the year, not in celebration of God becoming one with us in our humanity, but as a preventive to keep us from running into one another. Red and green mean “stop” and “go” for vehicles and pedestrians on our streets and roads. Colors have different meanings in particular contexts.

Colors used in decorations appeal to our emotions, as do the familiar Christmas lights about us. Colors that give us symbolic information, such as traffic lights, primarily address our intellects. But thoughts and feelings are both in some measure affected by whatever we perceive, as one person might be disappointed in seeing decorations for Christmas following so closely upon Thanksgiving, and another person takes joy in going down a long street and finding green lights at every intersection.

Not every culture or nation uses colored lights for the same purposes, just as not all people see Christmas as having to do with a religious belief that God has come among us as one of us. But we do well to take note of the traffic rules in any place where we want to walk across a busy street or drive a car. And we can do ourselves a favor by reflecting on the religious and cultural origins of the Holiday Season. We have an opportunity to enhance our personal journeys by noting the green lights that encourage us to keep moving, and the red ones that warn us to pause, so as to avoid a crash.

The spirit of this time of year is often identified with a green light for giving: gifts to family and friends, donations to those in need, and kindness and appreciation to all the people we encounter. But this same spirit of giving also shows us a red light: to stop and reflect so that not all of our giving involves material items that cost us more than we can afford of time, money, and energy or that poorly convey our good intentions. We can recognize the affirmation of green lights for honest expressions that come from our hearts, and the contrary indication of red lights for automatic responses that arise from compulsions and unexamined expectations.

Colors often affect our feelings, and can influence our patterns of thought if we are unaware. While most drivers prefer to meet with green lights at intersections, we can be grateful, if we reflect a bit, that the red lights facing the other directions provide safe passage for us who have the green lights. And when it is our turn to stop, we have at least two choices: We can accept the orderliness of “taking turns” that allows all of us on the roads to move with safety on our various paths, or we could focus on the momentary inconvenience of not being able to proceed.

Our awareness of the small impact of colors upon us exemplifies a process that is critically important for taking responsibility for our lives. No matter what happens in the world about us or within us, the Spirit of all life, including Christmas, inspires us every day with the equivalent of red lights and green lights for “stop” and for “go.”

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Electricity

When I was a student in high school, I tried some home experiments with an invisible force that, as I found, was quite capable of delivering tangible evidence of its presence. I touched a live wire of 110 volts and received a strong shock. Many of us have memorable experiences of invisible forces that have directly affected us. We do need science courses to convince us that a heating element on an electric stove can cause burns, or that digital information can pass through walls to and from our battery-powered electronic devices.

Occasionally, we can bring to mind many diverse kinds of invisible but powerful forces that have beneficial effects in our lives. We can think of natural entities perceptible to senses other than sight, such as the heat of the sun, movements of gentle breezes and forceful winds, and the whole range of radio, television, and other electro-magnetic waves that surround us and even pass through us. In pondering invisible yet significant realities which we might ordinarily take for granted, we can easily move from reflection to gratitude. We did not make this world, but we can readily perceive the benefits of the many naturally existing forces that are provided for us.

If we wish, we can think of many unseen qualities that are scarcely perceptible directly by our senses and yet are extremely important in our lives. We have energy that we can apply to physical actions such as moving our arms or legs, as well as moving our faces in a smile. We have motives, desires, and hopes by which we direct some of our energy in a number of different ways, such as making plans, studying, observing, and interacting with others. We have faith, a power that affects our philosophy of life and all our human relationships as well as our relationship with God. We could mull over some of the many levels or kinds of love that we give and receive every day. We do not have to prove to anyone that these aspects of our lives are at least as real and certainly as important as the kinds of natural forces that science can examine, measure, and classify. All that we can bring to mind of our interior experiences are in some ways more useful and powerful than electricity. If we can be grateful for being able to turn on lights, how much more for having illumination of mind and heart that are ours at no cost to us.

For those willing to reflect further on experiences of invisible forces that exercise power on our behalf, we can consider angelic spirits and some particular persons who have died, but also of course, God. Many of us ascribe the gift of inspirations to God, though we most often experience them within us, in our thoughts, and in our concepts. Inspirations even startle us at times by their suddenness, or delight us by the light they bring into our confusion. Inspirations are not subject to our command as though we could turn on an electric light bulb. Inspiration does not come to us from an object, such as a generator, but from some One, who has our interests at heart.

Whether or not we believe that God is the ultimate source of inspirations, we are continually acted upon by invisible beneficent forces other than of our making. This is as recognizable, upon reflection, as is electricity.

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More and Less

When we say “more or less,” we wish to remain somewhat vague, as when talking about the right amount of potatoes we would need for a dinner. But we still intend to arrive at a definite quantity. We cannot have more potatoes and at the same time less than whatever measure someone might have in mind.

Spiritual quantities are measured differently than physical, so that it is not only possible, but typical to have both more and less in the same experience. If, for example, we desire to help others more than we have done in the past, our first thoughts are liable to be of spending additional time, making increased exertions, and adding further conscious focus on some of the needs around us. We would think this way because we live in the world of senses, and tend to measure our generosity by such standards. But because we live at the same time in a spiritual environment, and possess spiritual senses, we might find it possible to give of ourselves to others in ways that bring about more quality of life for them and that are also less stressful for us than if we added further “good works” to our already full schedules.

We can accomplish more, and make more positive contributions to our work, and to our relationships – including with God – when we follow our desires not only or always through additional efforts, but often by acting in accord with particular inspirations as they arise within us. While we might recognize the need to attend, for example, to the plight of homeless persons, we might also consider carefully the movements within us that might suggest that we will be of greater assistance by listening and learning from them as well as offering some assistance.

We will find that more and less become mutually supporting companions within us when we think and act with an honest and authentic balance of both our freedom of choice and our participation in the world as God’s creation, not ours. We are clear enough that we must do our part or nothing happens, but besides the general spiritual principles we have developed, we also need specific and present information that comes to us from our internal senses as inspiration, and that resonates with our hearts, not only our minds.

When we make decisions that include, allow for, or are open to inspiration, we act as whole human persons, body, mind, and spirit. Though we are responsible for our decisions, we do not cause nor can we know ahead of time all the subsequent consequences of our choices, either for others, or for ourselves. But if we reflect on our previous experiences we are likely to recall instances of when we acted with reference not only to our own limited understanding of what might have appeared to be more helpful in a given situation, but also to the thoughts, however new and perhaps surprising, that suggested a different option that would be yet more effective. And in such a decision-making process, more effectiveness and less struggling are often found together.

We are most efficient in the use of our gifts and energy when we are open to the possibility of both more and less in our decision-making.

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The Thank You Antidote

In a confidence-building seminar, I learned to deal with negative comments directed to me in public situations by thanking the person for his or her remark or question, and finding something in what was said that could be restated, but also turned to the benefit of what I was trying to communicate in the first place. I found that the practice of searching quickly for a way to interpret negative comments in a helpful manner circumvented my tendency to make angry responses, and enabled me to become even more focused on my primary intention of conveying something of value to my listeners.

Of course it is easier and more natural to thank someone for a lovely dinner than to find reasons for gratitude when someone leaves a mess that we have to clean. But perhaps we can actually choose to build a very helpful habit, of using “thank you” as an antidote to bothersome and unwelcome thoughts and feelings of hurt or anger, even if we do not speak the words to anyone.

Most of us can recall one or more incidents when we were frustrated by our inability to obtain a desired response from another person, or by being unable to finish a small task. But soon afterwards, we found that we were better off precisely because the response we received, though not at first welcomed, enabled us to turn to improve our relationship, or the task that we were not able to complete when we wanted, we now brought to a different and much better completion. Reflecting upon similar experiences gives us valuable information: some of the events that initially cause feelings of disappointment, hurt, or irritation turn out to be beneficial.

We can learn, through observation, that we have fewer and less intense occurrences of negative feelings when we intentionally consider that we can make different and more deeply satisfying decisions than if we had not encountered initial constraints to our plans or intentions. In a remarkable but completely human fashion, we can develop trust in our capacity for discovering fresh options, new possibilities, and helpful inspirations, when we look for realistic causes for gratitude instead of remaining with a disposition of disappointment and anger.

Honesty is essential when using the antidote of seeking reasons for giving thanks as a remedy for situations where our first reactions are of anger and hurt. God did not make us like robots, programmed to perform a very limited range of activities, without error. Rather, we are capable of new thoughts and alternatives, and we very often learn through making mistakes and through experiences of suffering.

Though many of us turn to God with our needs for help or healing, sometimes it seems as though we receive no answers. We might be caught in our own circle of negativity, incapable of seeing any solutions other than assistance for doing what we have in mind, or cessation of whatever causes suffering. We might be ready to give thanks if and when our prayers are answered in the manner we expect. But if we make an immediate search within ourselves for a basis for saying “thank you,” we will often discover the beginnings of real help and healing, though in ways we had not imagined. For example, in accompaniment with a prayer for help, we can also give thanks for the trust we have in God that “all will be well.” And it will, in the time and manner that is best for us.

In ever-surprising ways, the antidote of “thank you” has its gracious effect upon all that disturbs us.

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Unattractive

Some persons, in their appearance or in their actions, are unattractive to us just as are certain foods, store items, and physical environments. Most of us are not drawn to occasions of physical pain or personal loss. There is much in life that we do not like.

We have at last two options when confronted with unattractive persons, events, or things: we can do our best to avoid them, or we can try to be our best in dealing with them. We do not have magical powers to turn an ugly mess on the floor into a work of art, but neither do we have to remain focused on the discomfort we feel as we encounter unattractive realities. We might decide, for example, to consciously draw upon the attractive forces in our lives as one means of moving beyond our first, negative responses.

We do not want to see people suffer; some of the things that persons must endure are surely unattractive. Yet, we are capable of looking beyond physical illness, emotional outbursts, disabilities, and disorders by drawing upon a power that transcends whatever seems ugly. We engage our energies in the attractive option of trying to alleviate suffering, and of bringing consolation and healing rather than turning to avoidance or denial.

God is found in beauty, as in an attractive sunset. But God also attracts us to love those in need, even when our insides squirm at some of the unattractive conditions challenging us. Though we would probably not think about it at the time, we are at our best when we are able to move beyond initial distaste, because of our deeper attraction for what is right and good. Often, we are attracted by the possibilities of helping another person or making a positive contribution in a situation that, at some level of thought and feeling, we find unattractive.

Ignatius of Loyola was not the first to discover this, but put it into print for our benefit: by reflecting and praying with some of those things that we find initially unattractive, we might receive a surprising and welcome insight into a new possibility, an understanding of how a present irritation fits into a larger and positive reality, or a healing of some hurt that has long been with us. Just as we might re-visit a pleasing thought or memory, we can also look again at an interior negative response to seek for another perspective that inspired thinking or careful reflection might provide for us. The attractive power of living more fully our purpose and calling in life opens for us possibilities of much-desired growth by finding life-giving water where previously we might have seen only uninviting dryness.

Not all that is ugly or off-putting deserves further consideration. If we have developed a habitual distaste for selfishness, for discounting other persons, or for acting against our conscience, we bear within us a healthy view about disordered options whose unattractiveness is a benefit to us. One of our God-given capabilities is to distinguish those movements of the heart that identify wrongness from those occurrences that we perceive as merely unattractive.

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Heavenly Pets

Pet cemeteries are not places for pets that believe they will “go to heaven,” since it is people who make the memorial arrangements, not their pets. But the various ways that people choose to memorialize pets, from photos to cemetery monuments, testifies to the bonds of affection that humans can develop for non-human creatures. Children sometimes ask whether pets go to heaven, and some adults affirm that pets accompany humans after death. Consideration of an after-life for animals necessarily assumes that human life does not end with death.

Whether one does or does not believe that pets will be waiting in heaven for their owners, all of us can take the question about animals as an occasion to reflect on our present understanding, belief, and hope about transcending death. While most of us find it amusing that a famous person might choose to have a favorite car or other possession buried with him or her, we understand those people who say that they love this or that material thing or activity and of course those who talk about their love for people, and also for pets.

Some of us might think that our life now is only worthwhile because of our relationships with persons and things that we love, and conclude that they will have to be with us in heaven if we are to be happy there. Others might believe that their personal connection with God, which is important now, will be totally satisfying in life after this life, so that nothing more will be needed. Or we might consider that anything is possible: that, after death, we could be with God, certainly, but also accompanied by persons, pets, and the glories of creation that we can appreciate now, plus those that the infinitely creative Creator might provide for us in an active, eternal progression of love.

Our minds are liable to metaphorically rattle within our heads if we try to envision what it might be like for us in heaven. And so, rather than relying on our limited powers of imagination, we can reflect on present experience, and seek to distinguish the interior movements of our hearts and minds that underlie our relationships, our decisions, and our attitudes.

If we become clear about the most import aspects of our lives now - those which define who we are, and who we are becoming - we will be able to identify what must continue in some way after our death, especially if our reflections are guided not only by our present beliefs, but also by our deepest values, especially honesty. For example, most of us would not say that our list of accomplishments will be the part of us that will live forever. Nor would we say that the most important component of ours that transcends death will be our physical appearance as it has been at some particular stage of life. Rather, even if we cannot find the exact words to describe the essential characteristics that make life worth living this very day we can reasonably trust that those qualities will continue even after this life comes to an end.

We do not have to all come to the same answers, nor do ours have to remain the same always, because mere words are never adequate to identify our God-given desire for “more.” We can never be completely satisfied in this life, but our deepest desires reveal to us that which must accompany us through death, into God, who is love.

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Rhubarb Pie

I happen to like rhubarb pie, and learned how easy it is, with a store-bought crust, to bake this treat. The surprise for me was in doing something that for many years I had considered as being far beyond my capabilities. When our mind-set suggests that we are unable to think creatively, or to learn a new behavior, or even to bake a pie, we cannot. If we focus on the metaphorical wall directly in front of us, and do not turn our heads, we will fail to notice the entryway a short distance to either side.

Each of us has developed many skills. Some of us are problem-solvers, others put almost anyone at ease; some excel at reasoning, others are adept at noticing any and all emotions. As we grow in confidence in the habitual exercise of our competencies we probably become aware that other persons have proficiencies that differ from ours. Though we might not consciously decide to place restrictions on ourselves, we can somehow fail to allow the growth of even a small new branch on the tree trunks of our lives.

As satisfied as we might be with our ordinary and habitual performance, we will sometimes be even more pleased if we try a new manner for directing a little of our energies. One person takes up a form of art, another begins to write, and still another makes visits to persons who are confined by health or imprisonment. We are all capable of much more in life than acting only according to our accustomed activities and attitudes.

Though we surely have some limitations as humans, we can take encouragement for attempting new patterns of thought and action by reflecting on God’s unlimited resources in creating us. If we create, we have to work with available supplies, and must decide how much time and effort, and perhaps what quantity of material to put into whatever we do. In contrast, God has no constraints in gifting us with capabilities and options for growth and learning, which each of us can continually develop according to our unique personalities.

We differ, one from another, not because there is a limited supply of hair color, intelligence, or inventiveness, so that one of us would receive this quality and another that. Rather, all of us fulfill the purpose of our lives through the medium and effective power of the unlimited gift of love that we have each received. We complement the talents and capabilities of others by employing those that we have received and developed. No matter how few or small we might think our gifts are in comparison with those of others, there is no limit to how much we can love in and through what we say and do. Not even time is a limit to love, since “love never ends.” (I Cor. 13:8)

If we consider our purpose and the absence of all limitations on our capacity to love, we can attempt anything new that seems to us a means for exercising this awesome power that not only comes from God, but is God within us. Such is the secret ingredient for making a rhubarb pie, or anything else that we might try.

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Ripples

If we are near a small lake, pond, or even a pool, we can observe ripples as they appear on the surface from a variety of possible sources. A breeze might cause ripples that move in the direction of the blowing. Anything that affects the surface, whether a leaf or a tossed stone, will send ripples out in all directions from the disturbance. If there a fish near the surface, ripples will follow its movement, just as anything that moves on the surface will send out ripples proportionate to its size and speed.

If we choose to observe the surface of our consciousness by taking time to notice the ripples in our hearts that are caused by the thoughts and emotions affecting us, we will be able to distinguish the different causes and determine appropriate responses. Sometimes, for example, the equivalent of a stone is thrown into our environment and we are much disturbed, so that we cannot but notice. We can respond by taking the stone and throwing it at someone (anger) or we might choose to assess whether or not we have actually suffered damage, and let the ripples diminish before speaking or acting.

More often, the ripples within us are directional, so that by observation, we can learn, no matter what the cause, whether or not the movements are for us or against us, assisting us or hindering us, kindly or the opposite. A word that we read or hear might be like a leaf landing on water, of no consequence. Some words, on the other hand, are like a boat out on the water causing a wake that is quite noticeable. We can attend to the direction more than to the boat itself, and decide whether to stop the line of thoughts that are causing disruptive feelings or to participate more fully in those thoughts if they support our values, deepest desires, or chosen way of proceeding.

Some thoughts are readily accessible, as they are on the surface where we can immediately recognize what they are, and more easily discern their beneficial or detrimental direction. If we believe that our inner life is as important as our bodily life, and desire spiritual health as well as physical wellbeing, we will choose as much as possible to accept healthy thoughts and reject those that sicken us. If we are in doubt as to whether or not we have either a right or a responsibility to decide which thoughts to support and which to leave off thinking, we can ask the God of all creation: “Is this good for me, or not?” Our answer will most likely register within us as a quiet recognition of our value rather than as a sound from the heavens. Yes, we are responsible to ourselves for determining which thoughts are welcome and which are not.

Some patterns of thinking seem to move below the surface of our minds, so that the causes are harder to see, whether from some kind of “fish” or some other source. But these too will indicate a direction they are moving, if we choose to watch. The direction is all we need to know for us to make a rational, wise decision about whether to let the movement continue, or to resist. And one of the surest ways to resist is to pray for help to follow our deepest aspirations for being a whole person.

Some of the most helpful indications of the various movements taking place within our minds and hearts are ripples.

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In or Out

When my older brothers kindly took me along to a small lake so we could paddle around in a boat, I made the mistake of tentatively putting one foot in the boat while keeping one foot on the dock, and fell right into the water. I had put some of my weight in the boat, causing it to move away, while at the same time trying to maintain the apparent safety of contact with solid ground: a “learning experience” about either going or staying, not both at the same time.

Many of our interactions in life require us to either move in or stay out, with no realistic option for both moving and staying. If we open our mouths and use the word “love,” for example, we will have left the relative safety of keeping our truth within us and have declared a position from which there is no return. Even if we later were to say that we didn’t really mean it, we can never go back to our former stance of completely private thoughts and feelings.

Praying is like getting into a boat. We are either going to set ourselves in motion, which might at least appear to involve some risk, or we are going to remain with our own familiar thought processes and stay put. If we step in, we had best get in, not keeping a part of our focus on some other interest.

What are the risks of engaging in prayer? Climbing into a boat in calm waters is relatively risk-free, as long as we act fully on our decision, for we can climb back out again when we wish. Praying would also seem to hold no risk for us, because we can stop at any time. We seem to be at least in as much control as is anyone paddling a boat in a safe environment. And if our expectation and desire is to do something as recreational as boating or as re-creational as praying, chances of sinking or suffering are quite remote.

In stormy waters, most of us would not want to enter a small boat unless it would be a last resort, as when escaping from a sinking ship. Some of us might think of prayer in troubled times as a small life-boat, and only enter when there seems to be no alternative. The risk might seem high, because we are frightened, or hurting, angry or overwhelmed. But the risk is only apparent. Getting into a small boat that is bobbing up and down in turbulent waters is truly perilous, while the lifeboat of prayer never sinks or overturns. When our minds and hearts are in turmoil, many of us have difficulty in beginning to pray because we know intuitively that we will have to acknowledge, without denying or rationalizing, the full extent of our present experience with all attendant thoughts and feelings.

When we decide to consciously engage with Love (for God is love) we are praying, and we are received just as we are, as we ourselves might wordlessly accept any other person in pain, fear, or whatever their condition might be. If we decide to enter into prayer, we can still leave at any time – no risk of being retained against our will – but while we pray we will almost certainly be held. The risk is that we might suffer the embarrassment of being loved as we are. Would we rather stay out?

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Resting

Often we become tired from work, activities, decision-making, physical exertions, or emotional responses. We also become tired of some of the situations we face, the less-than-welcome behavior of others, and some of our own habitual ways of thinking and acting. When we are tired from a day’s events, we might seek rest and recreation. When we are tired of things that displease us and that recur again and again, we might decide to make some changes that will give us respite.

We all need rest, but not all that we call rest is restorative just as not all forms of recreation and modes and times of recreating are all equally helpful for us when we are tired. If we begin with the truth which our bodies, minds, and spirits reveal to us about the specific ways we are tired, we can more readily choose the appropriate means for addressing the kind of tiredness that we are experiencing. If we are vague with ourselves about our particular needs for rest, we are more liable to choose remedies that only debilitate us rather than restore our energies.

If, for example, we have been in an emotionally intense meeting or encounter, rather than rationalizing away our feelings as being somehow irrelevant, we can choose a fitting kind of rest: an activity that is as objective as filing papers and as non-stressful as talking to someone about a subject that is wholly within our mutual interests. Moving from one tense situation to another without any intervening moments to reflect on our own internal condition is at times necessary, but does not address a need we have that is going to increase until we rest from precisely the thoughts, words, and actions that “press our buttons.” Watching T.V. programs in the evening might provide some release, but if we do not consider the particular tiredness we have from the hits and hurts we received during the day, we might not be resting at all.

Resting is a form of healing from life’s wear: from our expenditure of various kinds of energies involving joys and hurts, hopes and anxieties, active participation and passive observation. Sleep is not always the most suitable kind of rest for every kind of tiredness of which we are capable. Sometimes we are unable to sleep at night precisely because we have not yet given our minds a rest from intense activity, or have failed to acknowledge some significant decisions that we made, or have not admitted the depth of appreciation we have for something we accomplished well, but did not have or take the time to notice during our busy day.

Night prayers might have been a chore for a child if he or she did not yet experience gratitude. But for us, when we reflect prayerfully on “what worked” during the day, or on “where God was with us,” or on the more strongly felt emotions and more significant patterns of thinking we have done during the day, we will become aware of the precise personal information that leads to healing and gratitude, to rest, and to sleep.

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