The Week of the Sickies: Some thoughts on an integrated life
I'm a fever guy. Ever since I was a kid when I would get sick, I would get sick. No half measures; no ambiguity; no dithering about whether I should take a sick day or not. Like a finely tuned European sports car, my engine accelerates from a cold start at 98.7 to 102.5 without a second thought. High delirious fevers and a few days in bed and normally the problem sorts itself out.
All of that to say, when I went to bed on Saturday night last weekend the writing was on the wall. A tickle in my throat and a bit of a cold sweat on the back of my neck. And, Bam! Sunday morning I woke up with a fever of 102.
After a day of watching NCAA March Madness on Sunday (fever still hovering in 101-102 range), come Monday morning I decided to spend my sick days a little bit more profitably. My reading quota (see previous posts) has been coming along pretty well: my reading group finished up Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, but I haven't had the opportunity to finish three or four other books. Well, here was my chance.
So this week, amidst the maniacal fever dreams and the occasional toddler vomits, I polished off The Courage to Be Catholic by George Weigel and gave a quick run through Cubs legend Ron Santo's autobiography For Love of Ivy -- it is almost baseball season after all.
The two had almost nothing in common, but when I finished up the Santo at 2 this morning -- thank you, bloody noses and relentless coughing fits -- I saw the connection.
The Weigel book was a very insightful look into the crisis in the Church surrounding the clergy sexual abuse scandals in the early 2000's. It was gut-checking reading, but also filled me with a lot of hope. His thesis, which I more or less wholesale accept, was simple: the Church failed to be what she is called to be, A Sign of Contradiction, and so she fell prey to the temptations of the world. Weigel rather masterfully explains the American Church's flirtation, courtship and now decades-long love affair with secular culture. He says that it was in jettisoning the traditional ideals of self-sacrifice, sanctity and virtue and adopting pop-psychology's "I'm OK, You're OK" philosophy that the seedbed of scandal and catastrophe was laid. Throw on top of that the sexual revolution and you get the mess the Church found herself in.
To some this rather theological or moral thesis may sound simplistic -- if not even naive. Theologians have always rightly noted the Church to be blessed with the dual natures of Christ: both human and divine. She is divine in her gifts from her Head, but human in her members. Oughtn't we then to expect failing from a human institution? Failing yes, but profoundly evil failing of this sort, no. Not at least, says Weigel, when the Church's members are committed to conversion and integrating the salvific grace of Jesus Christ into body, mind, will, and imagination. Members of the Body of Christ, striving in such an endeavor as that will indeed continue to sin and fall short of the glory of God, but not in a large scale abuse of the most vulnerable the way unfortunately so many of our clergy did in previous decades.
There are many ways of looking at and articulating the core of Christian discipleship, but the way that resonates with me most deeply right now is the concept of integration. The project of authentic discipleship consists in allowing the Master to oversee the integration of the gospel into every area of the disciple's life, bringing about an integrity and consistency of vision and purpose in all things. Traditionally that purpose would have been described as metanoia or conversion; or in eastern Christianity as theosis or divinization.
I'm not sure that Weigel ever uses that word per se, but I'm confident he would immediately agree that this is a key element to what was lacking. The Church of the progressive era was quick to delegate away all of its thinking to the secular experts -- like the rest of society did -- experts in sociology, in psychology, in history, in philosophy, in sexuality, in ethics, etc. In doing so, too many of her shepherds were left with fractured understandings of the human person and their basest inclinations were given free rein.
As a side note, Weigel notes that there are many reasons for hope despite these unconscionable atrocities, but they all center around an organizational recovery of authentic, evangelical Catholic identity. He notes that in places that that vision was not lost, these acts were almost unheard of, and since the refocusing on the traditional understandings of the human person and the mission and purpose of the Church in key places like seminaries, these abuses are now extremely rare -- though admittedly cases from the previous decades continue to trickle out. In fact, studies show that today a Catholic Church is just about the safest place in America for a young person to be.
So, how does my sicky brain see a connection between all of that and the biography of a baseball legend?
For those of you that don't know, Ron Santo was a Hall of Fame third baseman for the Cubs. When I became an avid baseball fan in college, Ron Santo was the color commentator for the Cubs. He'd played for them in the 60's and 70's and after a few decades in business joined the broadcast booth. He quickly became for Cubs radio what Harry Caray was for Cubs television: as much a mascot and a figurehead as a broadcaster. Ron wore his heart on his sleeve and lived and died with every season, game and even pitch sometimes. Cubs fans loved him because he was one of them.
Anyways, when Ron passed away a few years back my parents bought me a copy of his book. I'd put it on my bedside stand a half dozen times but never gotten into it. It was a fascinating and quick read -- even for a slow-reading sickie.
In light of what the above reflections though, what stood out to me wasn't Ron's tenacity and perseverance in being one of the first athletes to thrive in professional sports despite his juvenile diabetes -- though that was indeed inspiring. Nor was it his obvious charisma, leadership skills, grittiness, and pick-yourself-by-your-bootstraps mentality that brought him out of an Italian ghetto to a life of fame and fortune.
What stood out to me was how winsome a life of well-rounded virtue is and how un-winsome a life without it can be. Here's what I mean -- and, I'm by no means judging Ron Santo, let alone saying that yours truly is virtuous in all aspects of life.
However, the more I read Ron's own words, the more I struggled with it. The many virtues that made him famous couldn't cover over some serious character flaws. In telling his story Ron kept coming across as a bit of a megalomaniac. He was a scrapper from a scrappy background which meant he always felt a need to defend himself and show why he was right, or his stance was right, or why he was the best or how he'd gotten gypped, but had stood up for himself. In a word everything was about him. An attitude that we all fall into, to be sure. But certainly one that I hope doesn't come across in my autobiography -- or in my life.
All of that to say, when I went to bed on Saturday night last weekend the writing was on the wall. A tickle in my throat and a bit of a cold sweat on the back of my neck. And, Bam! Sunday morning I woke up with a fever of 102.
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| Lots of sick baby/toddler-wearing this week... |
After a day of watching NCAA March Madness on Sunday (fever still hovering in 101-102 range), come Monday morning I decided to spend my sick days a little bit more profitably. My reading quota (see previous posts) has been coming along pretty well: my reading group finished up Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, but I haven't had the opportunity to finish three or four other books. Well, here was my chance.
So this week, amidst the maniacal fever dreams and the occasional toddler vomits, I polished off The Courage to Be Catholic by George Weigel and gave a quick run through Cubs legend Ron Santo's autobiography For Love of Ivy -- it is almost baseball season after all.
The two had almost nothing in common, but when I finished up the Santo at 2 this morning -- thank you, bloody noses and relentless coughing fits -- I saw the connection.
"Love God and then be who you are." -- St Augustine
To some this rather theological or moral thesis may sound simplistic -- if not even naive. Theologians have always rightly noted the Church to be blessed with the dual natures of Christ: both human and divine. She is divine in her gifts from her Head, but human in her members. Oughtn't we then to expect failing from a human institution? Failing yes, but profoundly evil failing of this sort, no. Not at least, says Weigel, when the Church's members are committed to conversion and integrating the salvific grace of Jesus Christ into body, mind, will, and imagination. Members of the Body of Christ, striving in such an endeavor as that will indeed continue to sin and fall short of the glory of God, but not in a large scale abuse of the most vulnerable the way unfortunately so many of our clergy did in previous decades.
There are many ways of looking at and articulating the core of Christian discipleship, but the way that resonates with me most deeply right now is the concept of integration. The project of authentic discipleship consists in allowing the Master to oversee the integration of the gospel into every area of the disciple's life, bringing about an integrity and consistency of vision and purpose in all things. Traditionally that purpose would have been described as metanoia or conversion; or in eastern Christianity as theosis or divinization.
I'm not sure that Weigel ever uses that word per se, but I'm confident he would immediately agree that this is a key element to what was lacking. The Church of the progressive era was quick to delegate away all of its thinking to the secular experts -- like the rest of society did -- experts in sociology, in psychology, in history, in philosophy, in sexuality, in ethics, etc. In doing so, too many of her shepherds were left with fractured understandings of the human person and their basest inclinations were given free rein.
As a side note, Weigel notes that there are many reasons for hope despite these unconscionable atrocities, but they all center around an organizational recovery of authentic, evangelical Catholic identity. He notes that in places that that vision was not lost, these acts were almost unheard of, and since the refocusing on the traditional understandings of the human person and the mission and purpose of the Church in key places like seminaries, these abuses are now extremely rare -- though admittedly cases from the previous decades continue to trickle out. In fact, studies show that today a Catholic Church is just about the safest place in America for a young person to be.
So, how does my sicky brain see a connection between all of that and the biography of a baseball legend?
For those of you that don't know, Ron Santo was a Hall of Fame third baseman for the Cubs. When I became an avid baseball fan in college, Ron Santo was the color commentator for the Cubs. He'd played for them in the 60's and 70's and after a few decades in business joined the broadcast booth. He quickly became for Cubs radio what Harry Caray was for Cubs television: as much a mascot and a figurehead as a broadcaster. Ron wore his heart on his sleeve and lived and died with every season, game and even pitch sometimes. Cubs fans loved him because he was one of them.
Anyways, when Ron passed away a few years back my parents bought me a copy of his book. I'd put it on my bedside stand a half dozen times but never gotten into it. It was a fascinating and quick read -- even for a slow-reading sickie.
In light of what the above reflections though, what stood out to me wasn't Ron's tenacity and perseverance in being one of the first athletes to thrive in professional sports despite his juvenile diabetes -- though that was indeed inspiring. Nor was it his obvious charisma, leadership skills, grittiness, and pick-yourself-by-your-bootstraps mentality that brought him out of an Italian ghetto to a life of fame and fortune.
What stood out to me was how winsome a life of well-rounded virtue is and how un-winsome a life without it can be. Here's what I mean -- and, I'm by no means judging Ron Santo, let alone saying that yours truly is virtuous in all aspects of life.
However, the more I read Ron's own words, the more I struggled with it. The many virtues that made him famous couldn't cover over some serious character flaws. In telling his story Ron kept coming across as a bit of a megalomaniac. He was a scrapper from a scrappy background which meant he always felt a need to defend himself and show why he was right, or his stance was right, or why he was the best or how he'd gotten gypped, but had stood up for himself. In a word everything was about him. An attitude that we all fall into, to be sure. But certainly one that I hope doesn't come across in my autobiography -- or in my life.
Again, I don't mean to condemn Ron Santo. I love Ronnie and his imperfections don't hamper that at all.
Nevertheless, his autobiography gave me this insight: in our life of discipleship, it is crucial to have the sincerity with ourselves, with Our Lord, and with trusted mentors to be open to the need for growth -- especially in areas we may not want to admit. To not only root out sin -- but to genuinely seek a well-balanced life of virtue.
It led me to ask, what are my predominating vices? What is going to stand out to persnickety readers of my autobiography?
"There are many souls all around us, and we have no right to be an obstacle to their eternal happiness. We have the obligation of leading a fully Christian life, of becoming saints, of not betraying God and all those who expect a Christian to be an example and a source of truth."
-- St. Josemaria Escriva
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