"Whatever you bury before it is dead will come back to haunt you.”
-Anonymous
With Halloween fast approaching, I thought a reflection on zombies would be in order. Zombies, as you know, are those scary monster-persons that somehow come back from the grave in order to destroy the living. They are the un-dead…not fully alive, and not fully dead.
Zombies, of course, do not exist in real life. But they are powerful symbols of something very real; the terrifying parts of our lives that are “un-dead.” We all have painful, ugly experiences we’ve not fully faced, understood, worked through, and then put to rest forever. And there can be good reasons for this.
If the painful experience is overwhelming, we may need to put it off for a while, or make sense of it a little at a time….it’s just too big to do all at once. For instance, it took me years to work through all the fear I felt about my first born son’s fragile early years, where he almost died three different times. There was so much.
And even with disturbing experiences that aren’t life-or-death, the bracketing of these memories can be essential to moving forward. If we sat with all that has gone wrong, or could go wrong in life…all the possible scenarios where we could be injured in mind, body, or spirit…all the ways we have been and still are vulnerable, we’d literally have trouble getting out of bed each morning.
So, this “compartmentalizing” of psychological pain is protective and can even be adaptive to a point, giving us time to “get ready”; to build up psychological resources and relational support.
But in time, whatever we bury before it is dead will come back to haunt us.
Authenticity is fundamentally about truth. It seeks truth, loves truth, explores truth, and works at removing anything that might keep someone from living in truth. And it is especially good at exposing and disposing of “zombies”, those buried parts of our lives that are still haunting us. As zombie hunters have special ways of searching for zombies, those who practice authenticity do as well….beginning with key questions:
Which periods of my life do I not remember well? What social situations do I feel especially anxious in? What are the big losses I’ve had, and what did I do with the feelings connected to them? What emotions do I feel most uncomfortable with now?
Zombies are scary, but not nearly as frightening as a life spent hiding from them.
Question for reflection: Where do you think your zombies are hiding?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
An uplifting experience
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it." -Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
This summer, while enjoying an amazing philosophy workshop on the good life according to Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Aquinas, I also got a lesson in virtue from teachers who didn’t even know they were at work.
The college where my group was meeting was also holding a “come and see” weekend retreat for prospective students. So for a week, at breakfast, lunch and dinner us middle-aged men shared a dining room with high school seniors. Over the first couple of days, in the sea of animated teenagers enjoying their experience on a college campus, I found myself observing a young man in a wheelchair. And throughout the week I kept returning to him, watching him, wondering about him and his story. So young to be wheel-chair bound; what had happened, when did it happen, and how was he coping with it? To walk onto a college campus is daunting enough; what must it be like to have to roll on to one?
I was moved by his witness to courage, and desire, and engagement, and perseverance. I prayed for him. I was sympathetic. And I remained at a distance.
The last morning of my retreat, as I prepared to go down to breakfast, I heard loud chatter in the quad where the students were all gathering to go on a hike. All? My mind wondered about the young man in the chair. I walked outside so I could survey the whole group. And in a corner of the lawn where the students were congregating, I saw a most remarkable scene unfolding.
There, seated in a big wing-back chair was the young man, watching with a huge smile on his face as six of his confreres excitedly altered his wheelchair. They’d found two large wooden poles from God-knows-where, and had carefully placed them under the chair. Then they’d attached these poles to the chair with rope for stability. And finally they placed the young man into his “new” wheelchair, gently secured him, firmly grasped the poles, and slowly lifted.
“Let’s go,” they yelled, re-joining the larger group. And together everyone set off down the trail, the young man being carried along right smack in the middle of the pack.
No one was left behind.
For a week I had watched and cared for this young man from a distance….that’s sympathy. His peers had watched, and then cared for him up close…that’s empathy. I wondered about this young man and his plight, they got to know him and his life. I hoped he would not be left behind, they made sure of it. Sympathy is good. Empathy is better.
Empathy asks you to step into someone else’s shoes, walk around in them for awhile, and then step back out and do something meaningful for that person with the knowledge you’ve gathered. It’s the stuff of saints…who happen to be, on occasion, philosophers too.
Studying Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas for a week was valuable. But just one moment watching a young man, and the human soul, being elevated by the virtue of empathy was priceless.
Question for reflection: What prevents you from stepping into the shoes of others, seeing things from their perspective, and then doing something meaningful for them with the information gathered?
This summer, while enjoying an amazing philosophy workshop on the good life according to Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Aquinas, I also got a lesson in virtue from teachers who didn’t even know they were at work.
The college where my group was meeting was also holding a “come and see” weekend retreat for prospective students. So for a week, at breakfast, lunch and dinner us middle-aged men shared a dining room with high school seniors. Over the first couple of days, in the sea of animated teenagers enjoying their experience on a college campus, I found myself observing a young man in a wheelchair. And throughout the week I kept returning to him, watching him, wondering about him and his story. So young to be wheel-chair bound; what had happened, when did it happen, and how was he coping with it? To walk onto a college campus is daunting enough; what must it be like to have to roll on to one?
I was moved by his witness to courage, and desire, and engagement, and perseverance. I prayed for him. I was sympathetic. And I remained at a distance.
The last morning of my retreat, as I prepared to go down to breakfast, I heard loud chatter in the quad where the students were all gathering to go on a hike. All? My mind wondered about the young man in the chair. I walked outside so I could survey the whole group. And in a corner of the lawn where the students were congregating, I saw a most remarkable scene unfolding.
There, seated in a big wing-back chair was the young man, watching with a huge smile on his face as six of his confreres excitedly altered his wheelchair. They’d found two large wooden poles from God-knows-where, and had carefully placed them under the chair. Then they’d attached these poles to the chair with rope for stability. And finally they placed the young man into his “new” wheelchair, gently secured him, firmly grasped the poles, and slowly lifted.
“Let’s go,” they yelled, re-joining the larger group. And together everyone set off down the trail, the young man being carried along right smack in the middle of the pack.
No one was left behind.
For a week I had watched and cared for this young man from a distance….that’s sympathy. His peers had watched, and then cared for him up close…that’s empathy. I wondered about this young man and his plight, they got to know him and his life. I hoped he would not be left behind, they made sure of it. Sympathy is good. Empathy is better.
Empathy asks you to step into someone else’s shoes, walk around in them for awhile, and then step back out and do something meaningful for that person with the knowledge you’ve gathered. It’s the stuff of saints…who happen to be, on occasion, philosophers too.
Studying Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas for a week was valuable. But just one moment watching a young man, and the human soul, being elevated by the virtue of empathy was priceless.
Question for reflection: What prevents you from stepping into the shoes of others, seeing things from their perspective, and then doing something meaningful for them with the information gathered?
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday Night Lights
“Mercy is the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”-St. Thomas Aquinas
Gainsville State School, located just north of Dallas, is the kind of place where dreams go to die. It is a maximum security juvenile correctional facility for teen-aged boys. There is so much that is not typical; cells instead of cell phones, a dress code stricter than any private school, and a new meaning for after-school detention. There is no escape….except for football.
If you have good behavior and good grades, you can try out for the team. Every game is a road game, of course (not much interest from neighboring schools to voluntarily go to prison), and there’s not much winning. But if you play for the Tornadoes, you get to go out on a Friday night, even if only for a few hours. And feel free.
Many would see this as justice. These boys broke the law, and they should pay for their crimes; it’s only fair…as concrete as the walls that surround Gainsville State School. But a special few understand that justice is completed in mercy, and mercy makes life (and people) a whole lot bigger.
When powerhouse Faith Christian football coach Kris Hogan saw that his team was scheduled to host Gainsville State, he did something remarkable; he emailed the Faith Christian faithful and asked that some of them cheer for the Tornadoes
----and not just once, at the start, to be polite. He asked them to do so for the entire game.
Think about this, you son’s football coach asks you to move to the other side of the stadium and cheer for a bunch of criminals who just happen to be playing against your boy. I know it’s a Christian school, but really?
Hogan’s message was simple: these boys will have no one cheering for them, and probably never have, except for a few of the school’s faculty members and the guards that usher them on and off the field. Largely forgotten, abandoned, given up on by society…at seventeen.
"Mercy is the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”
So, many of the parents and friends of the Faith Christian team followed Coach Hogan’s suggestion. They formed a “spirit line” for the Tornadoes to run through before the game, and then stayed on the Tornado side of the stadium, cheering throughout for the visitors. At the end, the scoreboard read Faith Christian Lions 33, Gainsville State Tornadoes 14. But you wouldn’t have guessed it by the scene at mid-field, as the Tornadoes playfully doused their coach with water, hugged each other, and prayed with the Lions.
One of the Gainsville players said he felt like he was finally home, and that there were angels on the sidelines.
Compassion in action, mercy; it is a little bit of heaven on earth. And more than that, a confirmation that humans can be noble…and life can be better than fair.
Question for reflection: How often do you practice mercy?
Gainsville State School, located just north of Dallas, is the kind of place where dreams go to die. It is a maximum security juvenile correctional facility for teen-aged boys. There is so much that is not typical; cells instead of cell phones, a dress code stricter than any private school, and a new meaning for after-school detention. There is no escape….except for football.
If you have good behavior and good grades, you can try out for the team. Every game is a road game, of course (not much interest from neighboring schools to voluntarily go to prison), and there’s not much winning. But if you play for the Tornadoes, you get to go out on a Friday night, even if only for a few hours. And feel free.
Many would see this as justice. These boys broke the law, and they should pay for their crimes; it’s only fair…as concrete as the walls that surround Gainsville State School. But a special few understand that justice is completed in mercy, and mercy makes life (and people) a whole lot bigger.
When powerhouse Faith Christian football coach Kris Hogan saw that his team was scheduled to host Gainsville State, he did something remarkable; he emailed the Faith Christian faithful and asked that some of them cheer for the Tornadoes
----and not just once, at the start, to be polite. He asked them to do so for the entire game.
Think about this, you son’s football coach asks you to move to the other side of the stadium and cheer for a bunch of criminals who just happen to be playing against your boy. I know it’s a Christian school, but really?
Hogan’s message was simple: these boys will have no one cheering for them, and probably never have, except for a few of the school’s faculty members and the guards that usher them on and off the field. Largely forgotten, abandoned, given up on by society…at seventeen.
"Mercy is the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”
So, many of the parents and friends of the Faith Christian team followed Coach Hogan’s suggestion. They formed a “spirit line” for the Tornadoes to run through before the game, and then stayed on the Tornado side of the stadium, cheering throughout for the visitors. At the end, the scoreboard read Faith Christian Lions 33, Gainsville State Tornadoes 14. But you wouldn’t have guessed it by the scene at mid-field, as the Tornadoes playfully doused their coach with water, hugged each other, and prayed with the Lions.
One of the Gainsville players said he felt like he was finally home, and that there were angels on the sidelines.
Compassion in action, mercy; it is a little bit of heaven on earth. And more than that, a confirmation that humans can be noble…and life can be better than fair.
Question for reflection: How often do you practice mercy?
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Living history
“History is not was, it is.”
-Arthur Schlessinger
Our little one, Annie, is a Girl Scout. And on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, her troop was asked to participate in a memorial service at the local elementary school. It struck me as important, really important, that she was being asked to remember this event. But I wasn’t at all sure she felt the same way. In fact, I was pretty sure she didn’t.
So, before she left for the event, I asked what 9/11 meant to her. She hesitated for a moment and then answered, “People died on that day.” Yes, very true. As I gathered my thoughts to delve deeper, she blurted out, “Dad, can we go get slurpees after?” Completely understandable response from a nine year-old who didn’t understand exactly what she was supposed to be remembering, from a day she wasn’t even alive for. “Yes, slurpees afterwards…and maybe we can talk some more about 9/11?”
Teaching moments and learning moments can happen at anytime, anywhere, to anyone. But in our rushing around, we sometimes lose track of the larger world and the more eternally significant issues. So we are given the gift of “remembrance” days, where we are reminded that something life-changing, world-shaping happened. And whether we were alive or not doesn’t change the fact that what occurred on that day is important enough to stop and think about.
Some of these days are civil days of remembrance, like the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, D-Day, and Memorial Day. Some are religious days of remembrance, like Easter, Christmas, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. And some remembrance days are so personal they will matter to only a select few; a wedding anniversary, a birthday, or a death date.
On these days, we are invited to remember that which is (or could be) significant to us; what deserves reflection, mourning, and/or celebration. And with the invitation to remember comes the opportunity to practice the virtue of remembrance. Practice.
If remembrance is just about recalling an event from the past, it’s a history lesson but not a virtue. Something, that happened somewhere, to someone else…
Remembrance is a virtue, a good habit that makes us better people, because it trains us to recall what is significant about life, and then apply these lessons to our own lives. Remembrance must become personal, and it must be lived.
“History is not was, it is.”
As we drove home from the 7/11 store, I asked Annie about the service. “Oh Dad, we sang The Star Spangled banner, and there were firemen there, and we all made handprints on a wall, and talked about the brave people, and why we can’t take our freedom for granted…and how we can be better because of that day.”
How we can be better because of that day; lesson learned.
Question for reflection: What are the days of remembrance that you honor, or should honor?
-Arthur Schlessinger
Our little one, Annie, is a Girl Scout. And on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, her troop was asked to participate in a memorial service at the local elementary school. It struck me as important, really important, that she was being asked to remember this event. But I wasn’t at all sure she felt the same way. In fact, I was pretty sure she didn’t.
So, before she left for the event, I asked what 9/11 meant to her. She hesitated for a moment and then answered, “People died on that day.” Yes, very true. As I gathered my thoughts to delve deeper, she blurted out, “Dad, can we go get slurpees after?” Completely understandable response from a nine year-old who didn’t understand exactly what she was supposed to be remembering, from a day she wasn’t even alive for. “Yes, slurpees afterwards…and maybe we can talk some more about 9/11?”
Teaching moments and learning moments can happen at anytime, anywhere, to anyone. But in our rushing around, we sometimes lose track of the larger world and the more eternally significant issues. So we are given the gift of “remembrance” days, where we are reminded that something life-changing, world-shaping happened. And whether we were alive or not doesn’t change the fact that what occurred on that day is important enough to stop and think about.
Some of these days are civil days of remembrance, like the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, D-Day, and Memorial Day. Some are religious days of remembrance, like Easter, Christmas, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. And some remembrance days are so personal they will matter to only a select few; a wedding anniversary, a birthday, or a death date.
On these days, we are invited to remember that which is (or could be) significant to us; what deserves reflection, mourning, and/or celebration. And with the invitation to remember comes the opportunity to practice the virtue of remembrance. Practice.
If remembrance is just about recalling an event from the past, it’s a history lesson but not a virtue. Something, that happened somewhere, to someone else…
Remembrance is a virtue, a good habit that makes us better people, because it trains us to recall what is significant about life, and then apply these lessons to our own lives. Remembrance must become personal, and it must be lived.
“History is not was, it is.”
As we drove home from the 7/11 store, I asked Annie about the service. “Oh Dad, we sang The Star Spangled banner, and there were firemen there, and we all made handprints on a wall, and talked about the brave people, and why we can’t take our freedom for granted…and how we can be better because of that day.”
How we can be better because of that day; lesson learned.
Question for reflection: What are the days of remembrance that you honor, or should honor?
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Home Run
“…And the greatest of these is love.”
-St. Paul of Tarsus
Central Washington University was squaring off against Western Oregon University in a battle for the Great Northwest Athletic Conference women’s softball championship. Not exactly the Yankees vs. the Red Sox. But what transpired in that game would be nearly impossible to match in New York, or Boston, or Timbuktu for that matter.
Sara Tucholsky, the scrappy 5’2” Western Oregon reserve right-fielder, hit a three run home run in the second inning. Because this was the very first one of her collegiate career, she was shocked at the improbable blast. And perhaps this was the reason she missed stepping on first as she joyfully headed around the bases. Turning to go back and touch the bag, Sara tore her ACL and crumpled to the ground in agony. As she lay at first base, her coach called out to the umpire for some guidance. What now? Sara obviously couldn’t finish her homerun trot. She couldn’t even walk. The umpire explained that Sara had to touch all four bases, or else settle for a single. Further, her teammates were not allowed to aid her in any way. It appeared she was on her own.
It was then that Central Washington’s first baseman, Mallory Holtman (who just happened to be the all-time conference home run leader) asked if her team could help Sara. The umpire was understandably dumbfounded. According to the rules, however, the opposing team was in fact allowed to help an opposing player on the bases. So, permission was granted. With that, Mallory asked Sara if she needed a lift.
You just can’t make this stuff up.
Holtman and another infielder picked up Tucholsky and literally carried her to second base, where she gingerly stepped on the bag, then on to third, and finally home plate. As the three athletes made their way around the bases, the crowd rose in a standing ovation. "Touch ‘em all" has never been a more accurate description of a home run.
And Shakespeare himself couldn’t have expressed the virtue of love any more beautifully.
Love is the greatest of all the virtues. It is why human beings were created, and what we should live to be and do. But what is it? After all the philosophizing and soliloquizing, what is love?
Aristotle said that love is, quite simply, wanting someone’s good and acting accordingly. It is essentially about the will, not about strong emotions or deep thoughts. Feelings and thoughts may follow love, but they are not love. You see what should be done, you get outside of yourself for a brief moment, and you freely and generously choose to act for the good of another…without any expectation of payback or acclaim.
Not too complicated…but profound beyond words.
And in an increasingly angry, hurting, confused world, those who seem to be opponents, competitors, and rivals, can suddenly find themselves on the same team.
And for a brief, shining moment everyone wins.
Question for reflection: Who is the greatest example of love for you?
-St. Paul of Tarsus
Central Washington University was squaring off against Western Oregon University in a battle for the Great Northwest Athletic Conference women’s softball championship. Not exactly the Yankees vs. the Red Sox. But what transpired in that game would be nearly impossible to match in New York, or Boston, or Timbuktu for that matter.
Sara Tucholsky, the scrappy 5’2” Western Oregon reserve right-fielder, hit a three run home run in the second inning. Because this was the very first one of her collegiate career, she was shocked at the improbable blast. And perhaps this was the reason she missed stepping on first as she joyfully headed around the bases. Turning to go back and touch the bag, Sara tore her ACL and crumpled to the ground in agony. As she lay at first base, her coach called out to the umpire for some guidance. What now? Sara obviously couldn’t finish her homerun trot. She couldn’t even walk. The umpire explained that Sara had to touch all four bases, or else settle for a single. Further, her teammates were not allowed to aid her in any way. It appeared she was on her own.
It was then that Central Washington’s first baseman, Mallory Holtman (who just happened to be the all-time conference home run leader) asked if her team could help Sara. The umpire was understandably dumbfounded. According to the rules, however, the opposing team was in fact allowed to help an opposing player on the bases. So, permission was granted. With that, Mallory asked Sara if she needed a lift.
You just can’t make this stuff up.
Holtman and another infielder picked up Tucholsky and literally carried her to second base, where she gingerly stepped on the bag, then on to third, and finally home plate. As the three athletes made their way around the bases, the crowd rose in a standing ovation. "Touch ‘em all" has never been a more accurate description of a home run.
And Shakespeare himself couldn’t have expressed the virtue of love any more beautifully.
Love is the greatest of all the virtues. It is why human beings were created, and what we should live to be and do. But what is it? After all the philosophizing and soliloquizing, what is love?
Aristotle said that love is, quite simply, wanting someone’s good and acting accordingly. It is essentially about the will, not about strong emotions or deep thoughts. Feelings and thoughts may follow love, but they are not love. You see what should be done, you get outside of yourself for a brief moment, and you freely and generously choose to act for the good of another…without any expectation of payback or acclaim.
Not too complicated…but profound beyond words.
And in an increasingly angry, hurting, confused world, those who seem to be opponents, competitors, and rivals, can suddenly find themselves on the same team.
And for a brief, shining moment everyone wins.
Question for reflection: Who is the greatest example of love for you?
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