Saturday, February 27, 2016

This is an adventure


When Ryan and I first started dating, we experienced a phenomenon that often accompanies euphoria: a desire for the moment to endure. It's like asking time to stand still that you may revel in your happiness forever. Following the lead of C.S. Lewis, we call this the encore. In his book of Letters to Malcom: Chiefly on Prayer, Lewis talks about the necessity of not grasping onto the golden moments in a way that prevents us from being open to receiving the new blessings that God wants to give us. In this respect, a grateful bravo full of wonder and awe is a more appropriate value response than demanding an encore. Lewis asks: "How should the Infinite repeat Himself? All space and time are too little for Him to utter Himself in them once." But what a challenge it is for us to trust.

This seems to parallel Peter's experience on Mount Tabor. When Jesus was transfigured and Moses and Elijah appeared, the glory of the moment drew from Peter a bravo: "It is good that we are here." He also said he'd be happy to make accommodations for the prolongation of this event. I think it's safe to say that this is an understandable desire for an encore. But what came next? The voice of the Father exhorting the disciples to obey His Son, and they fell on their faces in wonder and awe. When Jesus told them to “Rise, and have no fear” a new task lay ahead of them: to come down from the mountain. 



The glory that they experienced-- what transpired on that mountain-- was real, and they'll take that with them and live from that reality in the nitty gritty of their daily lives. We too need to be docile to the will of God in whatever way it is made manifest to us-- not pitting the valley and the heights against each other, but embracing the challenge to live integrally-- always ready to listen for His voice and obey as best we can. 

On my first day working for Ave Maria University, Dr. Catherine Pakaluk quoted a line from the Russian film The Island. The plot includes a young monk who is antagonistic towards the strange ways of his brother monk, Father Anatoli. But when Father Anatoli was near death and his sanctity had become more evident, the young monk asked him "How should I live?" To which the holy fool replied with the wise words that life is hard; live the way you can. Far from being a license for mediocrity, this speaks to the inescapable reality of the cross, and to the unique manner in which it is to be carried by each one of us. Every person is unique and unrepeatable, and our stories can't be copied from the lives of others, but only lived by us in authenticity. This is a life-long process of continual discernment.

Mr. Brady and I began this week with Sunday Mass where we heard the Gospel story of the Transfiguration. During the homily the priest exhorted us to transfigure our desires. I asked my genius and linguistically gifted fiancĂ© what the difference between transfigure and transform is: they're essentially the same. So I began rethinking transformation, the aspiration so near and dear to my heart while I was discerning a religious vocation.

Our desires are transfigured with every Mount Tabor experience. And we pray for the grace to keep growing in love. The heights are awesome, and left to ourselves we'd want to stay there forever. But love must remain in motion-- it can't be held on to, only given away. And only through a sincere gift of self do we truly find ourselves. The hermeneutics of the gift-- understanding life as a gift to be given-- and living according to that law, does not negate our nature but ennobles it. 

The universal call to holiness and the demands it puts upon us does not require a diminishment of personal identity and all of the hopes and desires that go along with it, but demands a robust subjectivity which is open to transcendence. Realizing your vocation will not alienate you from yourself or draw you away from God or others. Your personal subjectivity is intrinsically connected to others due to your contingency as a creature and our nature as persons made in the image and likeness of God. But your desires will become most true to who you are if you allow them to be penetrated and transformed. Our prayers don't change things, prayer changes us. By means of communion we become most fully ourselves. This is scary and exciting. Life is an adventure, but one that we don't walk alone. 

Mr. Brady and I will be joined in the sacrament of marriage on August 6th, 2016, which providentially is the Feast of the Transfiguration. It's true, we'd be thrilled with any day, and know it would be the occasion of a golden moment. But we look for meaning, and find it everywhere. We can't help but experience this as a confirmation of our desire to embark on this mountain scaling adventure together, as husband and wife. And we pray for the blessing of little ones with whom to share our love. 

On what was to be the night of our engagement, Mr. Brady wanted to take me to Naples, but I told him there was a Humanae Vitae conference which I'd like to attend. My beloved graciously acquiesced. His favorite take-away from the talks was an idea of the family to which we can aspire: that our domestic church may be a creative minority from which the Light shines as a witness to all. Whereas formerly this ideal took the form of justified PDA-- because they'll know we're Christians by our love ;) Now our witness is manifested in a public engagement-- revealing our intention to commit ourselves in marriage. 

Like my friend C.S. Lewis, we too have be surprised by joy. Thanks for sharing it with us.

Cheers!