Life is not a tragedy

Life is not a tragedy, writes L Giussani. Tragedy is what makes everything amount to nothing. Yes, life is a drama. It is dramatic because it is the relationship between our I and the You of God, our I that must follow the steps which God indicates. (343)

If only we could remember that when we have thoughts of defeat, worthlessness, and loss; when we feel that what I am going through, my disappointments, my discouragement, my failures makes life amount to nothing.

No better reflection could prepare us for Holy Week. Who, more than anyone, could have thought this way? Jesus. Three years of training his disciples, and they run when he needs them most. Three years of drawing unimaginable crowds, and they turn on him in his time of need. All the preparation, all the prophecies about Jesus and his destiny come to naught. And Jesus prays, "Father, remove this cup from me!" 

But God did not. And Jesus had to experience defeat, betrayal, isolation, public humiliation and death.

And we celebrate this week with great ceremony. Why? Because life is not a tragedy. For Jesus, all the trials of this week did not make him forget the relationship between our I and the You of God. It is Jesus going through the suffering of Holy Week that teaches us the value to be found in such things.

Tragedy is what makes everything amount to nothing. Let me not think in those terms. Let me rather believe I have something more, that defeat is only defeat if I forget the I and the You of God.

Dealing with Disillusionment

Disillusionment. It can be a soul shattering experience or a faith building moment. Disillusionment challenges all the assumptions I have held dear and leaves me empty, or it forces me to open other doors seeking greater insight and understanding. That is because, no matter how you look at it, disillusionment breaks the mold of my common belief. I must forgo a faith that has not held up or seek a deeper understanding of it.

I find such times as these are often the most fruitful times of my life, though often only in retrospect. When I am in the midst of crisis, I need to remember that such life-altering experiences do not have to defeat me. I can take these times and use them for cleansing my "easy" type of faith, the faith where prayers are answered and God seems kind and gentle. Disillusionment challenges that concept. God seems cruel or indifferent, deaf and uncaring. God does not answer my prayers. In these instances, I need a new way to understand.
That is because faith is not an insurance against tragedy. Faith is, rather, the foundation for recovery.

A prayer that helped me through such times came from psalm 25:5:  Make me walk in your truth and teach me: for you are God my savior.  It replaced the one I so glibly recited years before from psalm 27:1: The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear?

Disillusionment challenges my shallow belief. If I move forward, it can take me from where I think I am steadfast and unmovable, to where I realize how fragile I really am. I believe this is the true gem of such times, a time to get to know my real self.

Instead of blaming God for my vulnerabilities, I need to accept them. And with deep faith I will come to realize, I do have the power to make the most of them.

What does your faith tell you?

Recently a wonderful conversation brought up the mention of orthodoxy and orthopraxy. The Christian religion, especially the Roman Catholic faith, stresses the need for orthodoxy. But there are some who are calling on the need for orthopraxy to be at least as important, if not more important, than orthodoxy. The comment has given me much food for thought.

First, orthodoxy deals with what we believe. Literally translated, it means right thinking. Here we have the teaching of the church, its theology, its laws, etc. We know that the Roman church is given to very explicit concepts, concepts it expects the faithful to accept. It has taken centuries for it to formulate its doctrine and articles of faith, its laws and guidelines.

Orthopraxy, on the other hand, means right living. It deals with how I live out my faith, by example. Orthopraxy is what made Mother Therese and Martin Luther King and Ghandi so powerful. They were powerful because they lived powerfully.

While thinking of these two concepts, it occurred to me that Jesus never said, "Obey me." Jesus words to his followers were "follow me". And the Gospels are full of stories of how Jesus lived out his doctrine. In fact, strictly speaking, Jesus seemed not too concerned about the “orthodoxy” of his faith. He cured on the Sabbath, he ate with sinners, he allowed his disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath. In fact, one could almost say that for Jesus, orthopraxy seemed the more important thing. Not that he disdained the law. It just wasn’t the most important part of his faith.

I think that as humans, we have a tendency to give orthodoxy authority over orthopraxy, as though right thinking proved more true than right living.And yet, I don't think we should.

There is much that could be said on this issue.

I'd be interested in your views.