I have many reasons to be thankful. One of the reasons I am thankful is the fact that I am able to read some interesting material and spend time with others in conversation about that material. Of course, for me much of that conversation time is with students. But I really don’t like to call them students.
I like to tell my students I prefer to call them colleagues. After all, that is what a college should be doing---making colleagues. In some areas I know more than they do. In other areas they know more than I do. Many are smarter than I am. They just have not lived as long and, therefore, don’t have as much experience as I do. But the problem with having experience is we too often think we know it all. We become less open; we make too many assumptions. We forget to be learners, too.
Some interesting material I am reading and have the privilege of spending some time in conversation with my colleagues is from the early Christian desert fathers and mothers. I smile as I write that. On the surface there seems to be virtually no relationship between some eccentric women and men who withdrew into the Egyptian and Syrian desert in the 4th and 5th century and my colleagues---my students. They are barely twenty years old and will live virtually all their lives in the 21st century.
They have email, facebook, text messaging and, goodness only knows what, in the next fifty years of their lives. Half of those eccentric women and men went into the desert, opting out of culture as they had experienced it. The last thing they wanted to be was connected. Many chose to live alone as a hermit.
Oh, they wanted to be connected, but not to a multitude of others in a Roman culture they thought was not conducive to their spiritual commitment to live a life of purity, holiness, and communion with the Divine One. Talk about a vision statement! Their mission would be simple, something like, “become countercultural in order to live authentic lives and expect life abundant!”
Oddly, there is something in their message that speaks to me. Their words still cause a twinge in my heart. Obliquely, I have a suspicion that they are on to something. They raise questions in my mind about my own commitments, my own cultural ease, my own “authenticity” in life. Am I being real…or just fooling myself?
The writings of these guys and gals (yes, there were women out there) are usually quite simple. For the most part, they are stories told so they could be remembered. One of my favorites has to do with giving. Somehow, they were good at giving and forgiving. I question, am I?
For example, one of my favorites goes like this. One of the monks said, “if anyone asks you for something, and you give it to him, even if you are forced to give it, let your heart go with the gift…” That is a zinger to me. Sometimes, I do not even want to give something, if asked. Literally or figuratively, we can moan, “the bum asked me for something!”
And then I hear this desert guy suggest that I “let my heart go with the gift.” Wow, that is a deep level of giving. Not only does this mean a gift; it means the giver, too. If asked, can I not only give, but give myself---give my heart?
Spiritually, I want to live into this challenge. I want to learn how in the Spirit to be a “heartfelt giver.” I am sure I will need to begin in small ways. I will need to practice. If I fail, I will ask for forgiveness. And I am sure, if I can begin to do this, I will also become countercultural---I will be a bit like those desert mothers and fathers.
I like to tell my students I prefer to call them colleagues. After all, that is what a college should be doing---making colleagues. In some areas I know more than they do. In other areas they know more than I do. Many are smarter than I am. They just have not lived as long and, therefore, don’t have as much experience as I do. But the problem with having experience is we too often think we know it all. We become less open; we make too many assumptions. We forget to be learners, too.
Some interesting material I am reading and have the privilege of spending some time in conversation with my colleagues is from the early Christian desert fathers and mothers. I smile as I write that. On the surface there seems to be virtually no relationship between some eccentric women and men who withdrew into the Egyptian and Syrian desert in the 4th and 5th century and my colleagues---my students. They are barely twenty years old and will live virtually all their lives in the 21st century.
They have email, facebook, text messaging and, goodness only knows what, in the next fifty years of their lives. Half of those eccentric women and men went into the desert, opting out of culture as they had experienced it. The last thing they wanted to be was connected. Many chose to live alone as a hermit.
Oh, they wanted to be connected, but not to a multitude of others in a Roman culture they thought was not conducive to their spiritual commitment to live a life of purity, holiness, and communion with the Divine One. Talk about a vision statement! Their mission would be simple, something like, “become countercultural in order to live authentic lives and expect life abundant!”
Oddly, there is something in their message that speaks to me. Their words still cause a twinge in my heart. Obliquely, I have a suspicion that they are on to something. They raise questions in my mind about my own commitments, my own cultural ease, my own “authenticity” in life. Am I being real…or just fooling myself?
The writings of these guys and gals (yes, there were women out there) are usually quite simple. For the most part, they are stories told so they could be remembered. One of my favorites has to do with giving. Somehow, they were good at giving and forgiving. I question, am I?
For example, one of my favorites goes like this. One of the monks said, “if anyone asks you for something, and you give it to him, even if you are forced to give it, let your heart go with the gift…” That is a zinger to me. Sometimes, I do not even want to give something, if asked. Literally or figuratively, we can moan, “the bum asked me for something!”
And then I hear this desert guy suggest that I “let my heart go with the gift.” Wow, that is a deep level of giving. Not only does this mean a gift; it means the giver, too. If asked, can I not only give, but give myself---give my heart?
Spiritually, I want to live into this challenge. I want to learn how in the Spirit to be a “heartfelt giver.” I am sure I will need to begin in small ways. I will need to practice. If I fail, I will ask for forgiveness. And I am sure, if I can begin to do this, I will also become countercultural---I will be a bit like those desert mothers and fathers.
Comments
Post a Comment