Pitching a Tent

My dear friend Amalour passed away last week. And in my grief, I am still having a difficult time paying attention to almost everything. So it didn’t come as any surprise when I had a hard time following the homily today at mass. The Gospel on the Second Sunday of Lent is the Transfiguration (Luke 9:28:-36)

Jesus took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But he did not know what he was saying. While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” After the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. They fell silent and did not at that time tell anyone what they had seen.

Years ago (before kids), I facilitated a faith sharing group at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish in Maryland, and one of the women explained how the story of the Transfiguration was one of her favorites because it offered a glimpse of Jesus Christ glorified. I heard her words and felt moved by her passion, but that’s not how the story struck me.

Personally, I find myself identifying with Peter, James, and John. Like them, I would have been happy to follow Jesus up a mountain. Like them, I would have probably been overcome by sleep. Even before kids. And like them, I would probably been so awestruck, I would have been happy to to pitch a tent.

Actually, I would have been happy to have my husband pitch the tent while I set up camp.

At the Vigil service for Amalour’s funeral, her husband Brian offered one of the most moving eulogies I have ever heard. Brian talked about Amalour’s unending quest for improvement. In their marriage–in their lives–they’d do the work and come to a plateau. It was a nice plateau, on which Brian was ready to pitch a tent and enjoy the view. And Amalour would say no; we’re not there yet. We can do better than this. There’s more to see; there’s more to do. Again, and again, and again in their lives, Amalour was always striving for something more… for something better… in all the ways that mattered.

I am a do-er. I’d like to think of myself as someone who walked alongside Amalour on the path of growth. In many ways, I know I have. But I also know one of my weaknesses is doing too much. I have been guilty of distracting myself from the real, true, important things in life with busyness… filling my days with so much stuff that I don’t have time to think. When I’m in this mindset, pitching a tent and enjoying the view sounds like a GREAT idea! In fact, I’ll even busy myself with setting up camp.

Thing is, life is more of a journey than a sit-down and watch (or in my case, get everything ready to sit down and watch). And sometimes that journey is hard. Very hard.

I can imagine that witnessing the Transfiguration was to be a gift to inspire Peter, James, and John for the journey that lay before them. It was not meant to be the end of the journey… or even a break from the journey.

So the challenge, I suppose, is to take those moments of grace, peace, hope, and light and allow them to inspire us along the path. To avoid the temptation to pitch a tent as though that moment was the end-all-be-all. To avoid the temptation to busy ourselves with setting up camp instead of doing the real work of journeying through life.

Tent in Canyonlands by [Rob Lee]https://www.flickr.com/photos/roblee) licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0

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Read More Julie Dienno-Demarest Feb 24,2013

Conversion, Human Dignity, Love, Metanoia, Transformation

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Perfect

If there was one thing you could (magically, effortlessly) change about yourself, what would it be?

Play along: come up with one thing. Perhaps it’s…

developing virtuous habits (and eliminating unhealthy ones)
addressing some physical characteristic (in the realm of body image or ability)
acquiring a desired talent

Sit with your answer. What does it tell you about yourself?

Is it just for fun?
Does it have to do with something you struggle with?
How does it relate to your personal goals? Hopes? Dreams?

What does it tell you about where you are on the spectrum between self-love and self-loathing?

In the lifelong journey of growth and change, there is usually some thing or another that we are working on improving. This is good. However, there is a legitimate concern for our spiritual well-being insomuch as how we treat ourselves in the process.

You are a child of God, created in God’s image and likeness.

Then God said: Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the tame animals, all the wild animals, and all the creatures that crawl on the earth. God created humankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

When it comes to the things about yourself that you want to change, do you honor the image of God within? Do you treat yourself with the love and respect that the image of God deserves?

Healthy self-love appreciates the goodness that is. It is from a place of love, not hate, that we are called to conversion – or metanoia.

In the reflection “Just Paint Over It,” I referenced the Greek word metanoia while discussing the transforming process of forgiveness. Metanoia [pronounced meta-noy-ah] translates as “a change of heart.” Meaning a conversion where the person turns away from what is destructive, hurtful, hateful, and instead turns towards God.

Too often, however, we can be overly critical of ourselves in a way which is neither helpful nor loving. There is a fine line between goals that motivate and the expectation of nothing less than perfection that can shut a person down.

The need for perfection.

There are two times that the word “perfect” appears in the gospels, both in the Gospel According to Matthew. The first is in Matthew 5:48, which is the part of the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus discusses Love of Enemies.

You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect. (Matthew 5:43-48)

The Sea of Galilee and the Mount of Beatitudes

The Mount of Beatitudes and The Sea of Galilee

The second appears in Matthew 19:21 within the story of The Rich Young Man.

Now someone approached him and said, “Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?” He answered him, “Why do you ask me about the good? There is only One who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” He asked him, “Which ones?” And Jesus replied, “‘You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; honor your father and your mother’; and ‘you shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” The young man said to him, “All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions. (Matthew 19:16-22)

If you wish to be perfect…

In reality, there is always room for improvement. If we think we are all done with the personal/spiritual growth thing (as if to say: “I have arrived”), we are reminded that our work is never complete.It is then, that Jesus will say to us:

If you wish to be perfect…

It’s the all-or-nothing extremes that are useless. Unhelpful. Paralyzing. In no way does Jesus insinuate that this rigid interpretation of perfection is what we are to aim for.

Growth—change—is a process. Metanoia is a “turning” away from something (sinful) and towards God (who is wholeness, life, and truth).

Think about the self-improvement / growth things that you are working on in your life. Do you treat yourself with love in the process of turning? Or do you become overly critical and hateful about perceived failures? Because that “hateful” thing is not what Jesus would do.

To move beyond my own struggle with perfectionism, I found it helpful to redefine “perfect” as functioning at my best, right now. For me that implies being my best and doing my best in the present moment, while looking to take the next step to become better.

The “next step” is an important concept in overcoming paralyzing perfectionism, because it recognizes the space between the “reality of now” and the “ideal” or “goal.” And in order for it to function, the “next step” should be realistic. Small. Doable.

And then celebrate the success. And build upon it. Because that is perfect.

You are not now what you were… You are not now what you will be when God has perfected you. – St. Vincent de Paul

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Read More Julie Dienno-Demarest Sep 27,2011

Humility, Scripture, Suffering, Transformation

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A Worker in the Vineyard

Think about a time in your own life when you were pretty much at your (emotional/spiritual) rock-bottom low. What insight did you gain about life and faith from that difficult time? How did that insight come about? Who or what helped make that happen?

My own lowest-low time came when I was 24 years old. Just three weeks short of what would have been my first wedding anniversary, my spouse never came home one evening, which in itself was significant, but it was a pressing concern because we had plans to drive to his sister’s for an overnight visit. Upon returning close to midnight, he casually responded to an offhand remark I made by revealing that he didn’t want to be married, had never wanted to get married, and thought we should just “break-up.”

And just like that, life as I knew it changed forever. Once I recovered from the shock and came to understand that there was no chance of reconciling, I picked up the shattered pieces of my life and vowed to learn, fix, heal, and ultimately become a better, stronger, and more whole person.

One of the most difficult pieces of this process was coming to terms with my own Crisis of Faith. I was a theology teacher—teaching New Testament Scripture to high school sophomores—at the time. I had a Bachelor’s degree in theology. I was not only committed to my Catholic, Christian faith, but I had specific, poignant conversations with my estranged spouse during our 17 month engagement about the Sacrament of Marriage, about the Covenant which we would be entering into, and about how divorce was not an option. Not for me, anyhow.

An excellent therapist helped me dissect the unhealthy dynamics and patterns which led to this whole situation, but I was still left with the God question:

I had responded to God’s call to be a teacher of faith.
I had given my life to God.
How could God have allowed this to happen to me?

When I returned to my classroom after taking a week off to get my head together, I told my students that I was “going through a difficult time,” which was an understatement, but it was all that I could muster. It was incredibly difficult to be teaching about the faith when I was so very angry, confused, hurt, and broken in my own relationship with God.

So it was in this context when I happened to assign a Critical Thinking Reflection on the “Workers in the Vineyard” parable (Matthew 20:1-16).

Jesus told his disciples this parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. Going out about nine o’clock, the landowner saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ So they went off. And he went out again around noon, and around three o’clock, and did likewise. Going out about five o’clock, the landowner found others standing around, and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard.’

When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’ When those who had started about five o’clock came, each received the usual daily wage. So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat.’ He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Or am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’ Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

As I facilitated a class discussion with the 15 year olds, one kid raised his hand and earnestly asked:

I just don’t understand how this is fair. How can it be ok to give the same amount to all-day workers and those that only worked an hour?

Still a novice teacher at the time, instead of prompting him to think it through or asking other classmates to respond, I sought to answer his question directly. And when I did, I heard the truth that God was trying to speak to me come out of my own mouth:

The workers think they “deserve” something more because of their efforts, but that’s not how God works. We don’t earn it. God’s Kingdom is offered to us, and we either say yes or no. God loves, gives, and forgives with generosity.

Or are you envious because God is generous?

The kid paused for a moment and said “Hmm, I never thought about it like that”. And there I am standing in front of a class of 36 students, apparently continuing to facilitate a discussion, thinking to myself, “Me neither, kid… me neither”.

How could God have allowed this to happen to me?

Yep. I thought I “deserved something more” because of my efforts. I couldn’t believe I actually had a sense of entitlement. With God.

The last will be first and the first will be last.

It’s like when we were in elementary school and would race to be first in line (for almost everything). There was actually a sense of superiority that being first had for those at the front. As an adult, I see how juvenile the need to be first was; I mean we’d all be going to the same place. I can imagine how frustrated God must get with us for fixating on this juvenile need, and then getting all irate at the perceived injustice of someone “cutting in line.”

With greater humility, I began to look at my situation, which was honestly the consequence of actions. God’s care, concern, and presence enveloped me in the network of support from friends and family.

Just as my divorce and annulment were a turning point in my personal journey, this insight from the “Workers in the Vineyard” parable was a turning point in my faith.

This was my story. This was my insight. This was my process. How about you?

And so I conclude as I began:

Think about a difficult time in your own life.
What insight did you gain about life and faith from that difficult time?
How did that insight come about?
Who or what helped make that happen?

“Harvesting Grapes © Depositphotos.com/Bunyos30″

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Read More Julie Dienno-Demarest Sep 19,2011

Hope, Suffering

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Rising from the Ashes

I had always imagined one’s honeymoon would involve sand, sun, and saltwater (probably because the bulk of my family vacations were spent on the beach). So while planning our spring 2004 wedding, when Peter suggested we honeymoon at Yellowstone National Park, I was a bit taken aback. “We both love hiking and nature, and besides, it’s on my list.”

It’s on his list.

Though not the most convincing argument, I acquiesced, especially since he promised to set us up with quality lodging (no camping or “roughing it”).

Without a doubt, Yellowstone is spectacular. It should be on everyone’s list.

The geysers…

The hot springs…

The wildlife…

Each morning we would drive from the gorgeous Lake Yellowstone Hotel to a different area of the park. I started to notice some of the stark trees around the landscape…

Yellowstone showed the scars of fire. My heart broke to see the scars of such pain amid such beauty.

I remembered the intense “Summer of Fire” in 1988. I couldn’t believe we were still seeing the effects in 2004. My rocket scientist husband, who has a bit of the encyclopedic knowledge going on, explained that fires were an ongoing reality in Yellowstone, most of them sparked by lightning strikes. Like most people, I assumed that fires were bad. I got all Smokey the Bear: “Can’t they do anything to prevent forest fires? Or stop them?” As I shot off endless questions, Peter (who avidly avoids the phrase “I don’t know,”) suggested we tour the visitor center by Old Faithful, which told the Story of Fire at the National Park.

I hadn’t realized that there was such an allegory between “fire” and personal “pain and suffering.”

Conventional wisdom—and the average park visitor like myself—views fires as devastating, destroying everything in its path. We see fire suppression, on the other hand, as good stewardship.

Sounds a lot like our attitudes towards pain and suffering…

Turns out that the amazing scenery in Yellowstone has been shaped by fire; it is part of the ecosystem. The National Parks Service explains this ecological phenomenon in the educational resources on Yellowstone’s webpage (which, by the way, is where all Yellowstone fire-related facts and figures in this reflection come from):

Natural (lightning caused) “fires are the primary agent of change in many ecosystems”
“Many of Yellowstone’s plant species are fire-adapted.”
Some 80% of the park’s forest has pinecones that actually rely on the intense heat of fire to crack open the resin and release the seeds inside.
Fires actually stimulate the rebirth and growth of some plants.
While above ground grasses are consumed by the fires, the below-ground root systems typically remain unharmed, and even increase in productivity after a few years.

In the gift shop section of the visitor center, I picked up the book Fire: A Force of Nature: The Story Behind the Scenery, and was struck by a quote on the front page:

“Fire presents opportunities for new life that don’t exist until a burn.”

Isn’t that the truth.

Certainly my own greatest moments of personal growth have occurred in the aftermath of a painful crisis. The growth might range from learning a difficult lesson to forging a new, better, stronger path. Sometimes it prompts me to develop compassion, broaden my perspective, and practice empathy. Other times the crisis has me questioning decisions, priorities, and/or relationships.

Just as the amazing scenery in Yellowstone has been shaped by fire, the amazing person that I am has been shaped by personal pain and suffering.

I marvel at the idea that whatever part of me which was struck down by personal pain and suffering has somehow been rebuilt. This dynamic is at the heart of the Christian message: from death comes new life. Theologians use the phrase Paschal Mystery to refer to the suffering, death, and Resurrection of Christ. But the Paschal Mystery doesn’t just refer to what happened to Jesus. It points to the process of dying and rising that we experience in our everyday life.

And by referring to it as a “mystery” we reaffirm the fact that we don’t always understand how that new life occurs… yet we have faith that it will.

“Fire presents opportunities for new life that don’t exist until a burn.”

From death comes new life.

As marvelous as it is, it’s also important to see the word “new” in each of those phrases. New life. Different. Things will never be quite the same as they once were.

Anyone who has experienced personal pain and suffering resulting from the loss of a loved one can attest to that truth: Things will never be quite the same as they once were.

Moreover, let’s be honest: pain is real. Fire burns. No one is expected to cheer on suffering wearing a t-shirt that says, “Yay – growth!” That’s not what faith in the Resurrection is about.

I cringe when I hear phrases like:

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle.

Everything happens for a reason.

I know they certainly don’t bring me solace. I can’t imagine a Holocaust survivor or rape victim finding comfort in hearing any of these clichés, either.

The enormity of the Yellowstone “Summer of Fire” in 1988 was unprecedented. That summer was the driest in the park’s recorded history. The practice of allowing for “controlled burns” was called into question as the fires burned from June through September, threatening lives and homes in the greater Yellowstone region.

With controlled burns, a fire ignites naturally – with a lightning strike, firefighters monitor as Mother Nature does some “spring cleaning” through the burn, and the fire extinguishes naturally.

The fires that summer were just too big and too out of control.

A total of 248 fires started in greater Yellowstone in 1988; 50 of those were in Yellowstone National Park. Despite widespread misconceptions that all fires were initially allowed to burn, only 31 of the total were; 28 of these began inside the park. In the end, 7 major fires were responsible for more than 95% of the burned acreage. Five of those fires were ignited outside the park, and 3 of them were human-caused fires that firefighters attempted to control from the beginning.

Between the evil of arson, the enormity of the problem, and the imminent danger to others, Yellowstone National Park needed help.

More than 25,000 firefighters, as many as 9000 at one time, attacked Yellowstone fires in 1988.

There was a lot of damage.

Ecosystemwide, about 1.2 million acres was scorched; 793,000 (about 36%) of the park’s 2,221,800 acres were burned. Sixty-seven structures were destroyed, including 18 cabins used by employees and guests and one backcountry patrol cabin in Yellowstone.

Yellowstone was certainly affected by the fires, but all was not lost; it was not devastated; it was not destroyed.

The effects on many plants and animals are still being studied, although in the short-term, most wildlife populations showed no effect or rebounded quickly from the fiery summer. In the several years following 1988, ample precipitation combined with the short-term effects of ash and nutrient influx to make for spectacular displays of wildflowers in burned areas.

Contrary to what was feared, the fires of 1988 did not deter visitors. In 1989, more than 2,600,000 people came to Yellowstone—the highest annual visitation of the 1980s.

While we are in the midst of the flames of suffering, it is difficult. Even Jesus wept. But that is not the end of the story. From death comes new life. We are people of the Resurrection. Faith in new life is what it means to be a people of hope.

As a people of hope, withstand the fire. Understand that controlled burns are a part of life. Ask for help. And when rising from the ashes, be sure to identify and appreciate “spectacular displays of wildflowers” whenever you see them.

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Read More Julie Dienno-Demarest Sep 13,2011

Love, Love and Relationships

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What Do You Mean?

While enjoying a Wine and Chocolates night with my sister, we touched upon the topic of love.

“What do you think love means?” I asked.

Laurie had read my previous post Love, Love, Love, and appreciated the description of the four different kinds of love, but she—like so many of us—still felt at a loss for how do put it into words.

“I don’t know how to define love. I know how I feel, and I know what I do, but I don’t know how to define it.”

The very nature of the word “define” (which means to put limits on something) seems to contradict the infinite possibilities (and mystical nature) of love. With that said, I think it’s important that we pursue a better understanding of what we mean by “love.”

Bestselling author and psychiatrist M. Scott Peck (d. 2005) set out to do just this in The Road Less Traveled (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978). He dedicates a whole section to love, beginning with “Love Defined.” I appreciate how he starts off by acknowledging the tension between the worthy pursuit of a definition, but the inherent difficulty in doing so.

In a very real sense, we will be attempting to examine the unexaminable and to know the unknowable. Love is too large, too deep to ever be truly understood or measured or limited within the framework of words. I would not write this if I did not believe the attempt to have value, but no matter how valuable, I begin with certain knowledge that the attempt will in some ways be inadequate (81).

In my years of teaching—and moreover—in my years of learning from my own personal successes and failures (lots of failures) “in the field,” so to say, I find Peck’s definition of love to be clear, thorough, and helpful.

Love is the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth (Ibid).

Now that is a sentence packed with meaning. In the pages that follow, Peck offers five concise points about his definition which help better explain his meaning.

Love has a distinct purpose. The goal of love is spiritual growth.

It’s not about forcing (yourself or) someone else to fit into your image of what they should be. But about encouraging them to become their very best selves, in God’s divine image. Notice the word-choice here: nurturing… not implementing, evoking, or creating this change (in oneself or others), but nurturing. That’s significant.

Love is a circular process. The more we practice extending one’s self, the better we become at doing it.

It’s easy to think that the circular process refers to “the more you give, the more you get.” But that’s not what Peck means. Instead, think of it as extending your limits and expanding your ability to love—akin to working a muscle. (And you know what, if it helps, think of the phrase love-muscle…whatever works!) The more you work it, the stronger it gets.

Real love necessitates self-love.

This is a tough one to explain or understand without talking about the distinction between love and dependency (which will be the topic of a post in the very near future). What it really comes down to is that love is about giving of one’s self, and you can’t give what you don’t have.

Real love requires effort.

Anytime you “extend your limits” or “expand your ability” to do something, it requires effort. Many people read this with a tinge of negativity, thinking: “effort”means work, and “work” means drudgery. But a lot of wonderfully fun things that we do require effort. What’s that cliché? Anything worth doing is worth doing well. That, my friends, implies effort.

Love is an act of the will; it is a choice.

Love is a decision; it is a choice you make, particularly when we are talking about nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth. Both the idea that love requires effort and that love is a choice will become much clearer in future posts about the distinction between love and feelings.

While Peck never used the word agape, his definition certainly aligns with that Greek term for love. I hope his definition helps you as much as it has helped me come to a deeper understanding of what love means.

So think about it… Which parts of Peck’s definition resonate with your own experience? What part(s) do you struggle with?

Consider what kind of “spiritual growth” the experience of love has nurtured for you (and that which you have nurtured in others). In doing so, I invite you to understand this phrase, spiritual growth, as Peck intended: as the health and growth of the whole person. Body, mind, and soul. Physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually.

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Read More Julie Dienno-Demarest Aug 17,2011

Tag Archives: growth

Pitching a Tent

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Perfect

The need for perfection.

If you wish to be perfect…

You are not now what you were… You are not now what you will be when God has perfected you. – St. Vincent de Paul

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A Worker in the Vineyard

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Rising from the Ashes

“Fire presents opportunities for new life that don’t exist until a burn.”

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What Do You Mean?

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