“THE LUST FOR INSTANT OMNICOMPETENCE”
I have given an old struggle of mine a new name: the lust for instant omnicompetence. I am not sure if omnicompetence is a word or not. My spell checker does not recognize it as a word. However, this non-word word is a combination of two perfectly good Latin-based roots: “omni-“ (which means “all”) and “competence” (which means “competence”).
As I define and tend to lust after it, omnicompetence means the desire to be good at everything I do—or think I should do. The word “instant” needs no introduction.
So, what do I want to be instantly omnicompetent about? Oh, how about teaching, writing, husbanding, cooking, and handy-manning to begin with. Then there is working out at the gym. Oh, yes, and recovering from addiction—and housework and gardening, and taking care of the dog, and teaching Hebrew, and . . . and . . . and . . .
Well, you get the picture. And, of course, I need to have all these competencies right now and without any effort. I want to have microwave omnicompetence.
Lest you think that this is not a serious problem, let me assure you that it is! You say you need evidence? No problem!
The other day, I was getting ready to go on a spiritual retreat at a monastery with a friend. However, there were “a few” (??) things I wanted to get done around the house first. So, I tore into those things . . . and made a very bad job of it. I was trying to mop the floor (so my sweetheart wouldn’t have to) and knocked over the garbage can. Stale caramel corn spilled onto the living room floor. So, I got the vacuum cleaner back out (my wife had just put it away after running it over the same floor), and tried to clean up my mess. It went downhill even faster after that. I don’t want to tell you more, and probably don’t need to. I ended up yelling at my wife and the dog and calling myself some rather unflattering names.
I finally calmed down enough to say to my wife, “I’m not getting off to a very good start with this retreat business, am I?” She just quietly smiled. “What are you smiling about?” I asked.
“I’m smiling because you’re leaving,” she said. She was joking. She was also serious. Instead of being offended, I had a good laugh at my fool self. As Martin Luther said, “The devil hates to be laughed at.” So do our vices. Because of this, we should laugh at them more often. We should to this, not because our vices aren’t a serious matter, but because they are.
And why all this drama? Because I was striving for instant omnicompetence.
There are two truths I need to remember. Perhaps you need to be reminded of them as well.
Truth # 1: The only One who can safely have the prefix omni- before his good qualities is God.
Truth # 2: Such competences as I really do need to cultivate cannot be microwaved. Competencies have to be developed slowly, patiently.
If I don’t remember these two simple truths, I end up not achieving omnicompetency, or even competency. Instead, I just end up acting like a nincompoop. And if I do act that way long enough and often enough, I actually become a nincompoop.
“LITTLE KIDS SAY THE FUNNIEST THINGS (AND SOMETIMES, THE MOST HELPFULLY COMPASSIONATE THINGS, TOO)
“Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength . . .” (Psalm 8:2a. See also Matthew 21:16.)
A friend of mine has the smartest and funniest grandchildren you can imagine. This is not simply his grandfatherliness talking. He has told me some stories that make me realize he is not exaggerating. If they were my own grandchildren, you might discount my words, but these are not my own grandchildren. I have no horse in this race.
For example, my friend’s four-year-old grandson had a cold. His dad was helping the little guy blow his nose. After a successful conclusion to this maneuver, the little guy said, “I’m the mayor of snot town.”
Young children have the wonderful ability to help us to see the world differently, and to help us to see the world differently. This little guy was going to be in charge no matter what—even if he had a cold, and needed encouragement to blow his nose! The word “indomitable” comes to mind.
2 Kings 5 tells a wonderful story about a little girl who not only had an indomitable spirit, but a compassionate one as well.
“The king of Aram had great admiration for Naaman, the commander of his army, because through him the LORD had given Aram great victories. But though Naaman was a mighty warrior, he suffered from leprosy.
2 At this time Aramean raiders had invaded the land of Israel, and among their captives was a young girl who had been given to Naaman’s wife as a maid.
3 One day the girl said to her mistress, “I wish my master would go to see the prophet in Samaria. He would heal him of his leprosy.”
4 So Naaman told the king what the young girl from Israel had said.
5 “Go and visit the prophet,” the king of Aram told him. “I will send a letter of introduction for you to take to the king of Israel.” So Naaman started out, carrying as gifts 750 pounds of silver, 150 pounds of gold, and ten sets of clothing.
6 The letter to the king of Israel said: “With this letter I present my servant Naaman. I want you to heal him of his leprosy.”
7 When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes in dismay and said, “This man sends me a leper to heal! Am I God, that I can give life and take it away? I can see that he’s just trying to pick a fight with me.”
8 But when Elisha, the man of God, heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes in dismay, he sent this message to him: “Why are you so upset? Send Naaman to me, and he will learn that there is a true prophet here in Israel.”
9 So Naaman went with his horses and chariots and waited at the door of Elisha’s house.
10 But Elisha sent a messenger out to him with this message: “Go and wash yourself seven times in the Jordan River. Then your skin will be restored, and you will be healed of your leprosy.”
11 But Naaman became angry and stalked away. “I thought he would certainly come out to meet me!” he said. “I expected him to wave his hand over the leprosy and call on the name of the LORD his God and heal me!
12 Aren’t the rivers of Damascus, the Abana and the Pharpar, better than any of the rivers of Israel? Why shouldn’t I wash in them and be healed?” So Naaman turned and went away in a rage.
13 But his officers tried to reason with him and said, “Sir, if the prophet had told you to do something very difficult, wouldn’t you have done it? So you should certainly obey him when he says simply, ‘Go and wash and be cured!’ ”
14 So Naaman went down to the Jordan River and dipped himself seven times, as the man of God had instructed him. And his skin became as healthy as the skin of a young child’s, and he was healed!”
Most of us biblical types tend to concentrate on Naaman or on the prophet Elisha. In reality, there are several unnamed heroes. The servants, who encouraged Naaman to wash in the Jordan River were heroes. He would have gone away in a huff, and still would have been a leper, if it had not been for his servants’ wise words.
But above all, there is the little girl who served Naaman’s wife. This little girl was an Israelite who had been captured in a raid. Had Naaman’s men killed her mom and dad? We don’t know. How old was she when she was captured? We don’t know. How old was she when she made the comment that sent Naaman on his journey to Israel and to healing? We don’t know. Was Naaman such a nice guy that the little girl was interested in his healing? We don’t know. As with most biblical stories, there’s a lot we don’t know.
All we really know is what the Bible says. However, I am going to make a broad generalization: Generally speaking, small children are amazingly resilient and astonishingly compassionate. Small children are often the mayors of compassion town.
We humans outgrow many things, but one thing we ought not to outgrow is compassion.
Got compassion? If not, get some!
“THE GOD WHO IS EVERYWHERE AND EVERYWHEN”
1 For the choir director: A psalm of David. O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD.
5 You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!
7 I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night–
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” (Psalm 139:1-12, New Living Translation)
Friday, January 5, 2018
This morning, my devotions took an exceedingly quirky turn. I am going on a personal weekend retreat with my good friend, Jerome, at Gethsemani. I read the following in my 3-minute retreat from the Jesuits:
“Before you begin, spend several moments in silence. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you.”
These are similar to most of these 3-minute retreats. However, for some reason, the words “Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you” riveted me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the Reality—the Reality that God was completely, redemptively present everywhere and everywhen in the universe. He filled my little room, my little self, the most distant galaxies, everything. I was filled with, possessed by, wonder and joy.
And then, I read the following meditation from Richard Rohr (who is a Franciscan and not at Jesuit, by the way):
“Week One
Introduction: Image and Likeness
Where Is God?
Friday, January 5, 2018
When I was on retreat at Thomas Merton’s hermitage at Gethsemani Abbey in 1985, I had a chance encounter that has stayed with me all these years. I was walking down a little trail when I recognized a recluse, what you might call a hermit’s hermit, coming toward me. Not wanting to intrude on his deep silence, I bowed my head and moved to the side of the path, intending to walk past him. But as we neared each other, he said, “Richard!” That surprised me. He was supposed to be silent. How did he know who I was? “Richard, you get chances to preach and I don’t. Tell the people one thing.” Pointing to the sky, he said, “God is not ‘out there’!” Then he said, “God bless you,” and abruptly continued down the path.
The belief that God is “out there” is the basic dualism that is tearing us all apart. Our view of God as separate and distant has harmed our relationships with sexuality, food, possessions, money, animals, nature, politics, and our own incarnate selves. This loss explains why we live such distraught and divided lives. Jesus came to put it all together for us and in us. He was saying, in effect, “To be human is good! The material and the physical can be trusted and enjoyed. This physical world is the hiding place of God and the revelation place of God!”
Far too much of religion has been about defining where God is and where God isn’t, picking and choosing who and what has God’s image and who and what doesn’t. In reality, it’s not up to us. We have no choice in the matter. All are beloved. Everyone—Catholic and Protestant, Christian and Muslim, black and white, gay and straight, able-bodied and disabled, male and female, Republican and Democrat—all are children of God. We are all members of the Body of Christ, made in God’s image, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, whether or not we are aware of this gift.
Can you see the image of Christ in the least of your brothers and sisters? This is Jesus’ only description of the final judgment (Matthew 25). But some say, “They smell. They’re a nuisance. They’re on welfare. They are a drain on our tax money.” Can we see Christ in all people, even the so-called “nobodies” who can’t or won’t play our game of success? When we can see the image of God where we don’t want to see the image of God, then we see with eyes not our own.
Jesus says we have to love and recognize the divine image even in our enemies. Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all .Once we see God’s image in one place, the circle keeps widening. It doesn’t stop with human beings and enemies and the least of our brothers and sisters. It moves to frogs and pansies and weeds. Everything becomes enchanting with true sight. We cannot not live in the presence of God. We are totally surrounded and infused by God. All we can do is allow, trust, and finally rest in it, which is indeed why we are “saved” by faith—faith that this could be true.
Gateway to Presence:
If you want to go deeper with today’s meditation, take note of what word or phrase stands out to you. Come back to that word or phrase throughout the day, being present to its impact and invitation.”
These “coincidences” during my devotions strike me as hardly being coincidental. In any case, they invite me to think of God (and everyone and everything else in the universe) differently.
I am not so good at recognizing God everywhere, everywhen, and in everyone. However, I’m working on it!
“CONCERNING GREEK GRAMMAR AND THE CONTINUALLY SATISFYING LOVE OF GOD”
When I was little, I used to have “vowel movements.”
No, that is not a misprint. I meant what I typed: I used to have vowel movements.
My mom disliked most of the words we use for our bodily eliminatory functions. So, she taught me to use the expression “bowel movement.” However, I misheard her, and thought she was saying “vowel movement.”
At that point, the die was cast: I was born to be fascinated with words. (I was about to write that I am very wordy person, which is also true, I’m afraid.)
As an indication of that fascination with words, I present to you the most recent exhibit: When I used the expression “the die was cast” in the preceding paragraph, I “had to” look up the expression “the die was cast,” to see where it came from. (Really? I “had to” to look it up?) It turns out that the expression is first documented in Suetonius, who used it for Julius Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon, which initiated a civil war in the Roman Republic.
Oh, my, where was I?
Oh, yeah! The continually satisfying love of God! Titles are a wonderful way of getting me back on track.
My 3-Minute Retreat (Loyola Press) referred me to Revelation 21:5 this morning.
“And the one sitting on the throne said, ‘Look, I am making everything new!’ And then he said to me, ‘Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.’” (New Living Translation)
So, of course, this provoked a sort of “vowel movement,” which involved consonants as well. I looked up Revelation 21:5 in my Greek New Testament. The phrase “I am making” was, as I thought I remembered, a present tense, which indicates a continual action. God is constantly making all things new! Yes!
But I also thought of John 6:35, which emphasizes the need for us to do some things continually.
“Jesus replied, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’” (New Living Translation)
Jesus’ words do not mean that one “who comes to me once” will never hunger; rather it is the one “who keeps coming” who is satisfied. It isn’t the one “who believes in me once”; it is the “who keeps believing” whose thirst is quenched.
There are times, I suspect, when we all feel as if, “Well I tried God, and it didn’t work for me.”
I don’t mean to be unkind, but I have a question for you (which is also a question for my own heart): SO FREEKIN’ WHAT!!) Do you really think—do I really think—that experiencing God is such a casual affair?
Well, truth to tell, I do sometimes think that way. I want God to be a very casual friend with very intimate benefits. How stupid can I be? Pretty stupid!
I remember a Zen story that goes something like this:
A young man went to an old teacher, because the young man had heard that the old teacher—despite some unorthodox techniques—really had some worthwhile things to teach casual seekers after enlightenment.
When the “seeker” encountered the old teacher, he was led to the river. The man thought that the teacher was going to introduce him to some sort of baptism or ablution.
Sure enough, as soon as they waded out in the shallow water a short way, the teacher shoved the man under the water. The man barely time to catch a breath before his head was under the water.
However, the teacher did not bring him back up quickly. In fact, the teacher didn’t bring the young man up at all. He kept holding the seeker’s head under the water.
Finally, the man being “baptized” realized what was going on. The old man wasn’t baptizing him; the old man was trying to drown him. He began to struggle, but the old man was surprisingly strong. Finally, with his last remaining strength, the younger man planted his feet as best he could in the soft mud of the river’s bottom, and thrust upward with all his might. When he was above water, and the old man let go of him.
After taking a couple of gasping breaths, the young man shouted at the teacher, “You wicked old man! You tried to drown me!”
The old teacher looked at the young man in the eye, and said calmly, “Young man, when you want to be enlightened as much as you wanted to breathe just now, come back and we’ll talk.”
God loves us all. I believe that with all my heart.
But I also believe that it is only the diligent seekers who experience that love.
Wanta breathe?
“Concerning Driving with the Brake On”
The other morning was very cold, and some of the side streets were pretty icy. So, it was a bad day to have car trouble. But I did have trouble very briefly. I thought things were going to be serious, but fortunately they weren’t.
When I was leaving my 12-step meeting, I pulled out on the street, even though there was a car coming. However, the car was going slowly and was pretty far away, so I figured I had plenty of time. Silly me!
Suddenly, the engine was running very sluggishly, so I pushed harder on the accelerator. The engine pulled down even more. I took the car out of gear, thinking that I had it in a higher gear. I made sure it was in drive, and stepped on the pedal.
Nothing! It slowed down even more. The other car (you remember: the one that had been going slowly and was quite a ways away?) was a lot closer now, and seemed to be picking up speed.
And finally, just in time, I figured out what the problem was: It was cold and I was cold and I was so bundled up I could hardly feel anything. This meant that I was unwittingly stepping on the brake, not the accelerator.
This is, in some measure, the story of my life: driving with my foot on the brake. And the brake is also called “fear.” I have lived too much of life in a fear-based manner. As with my near wreck, driving with the brake on is not necessarily a safe thing to do.
Now, don’t misunderstand: Fear can be a good thing. It all depends on what or who I’m afraid of, and how I respond to that fear. Fearing to do evil is a good thing. Fearing to take stupid, unnecessary risks is another good form of fear. Fearing God (in the sense of reverencing God and obeying God) is good.
Fearing anything else is like driving with the brake on. It is not simply that most fear does not help. Most fear is positively dangerous!
“THE WORD FOR THE YEAR IS KINDNESS!”
“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love. (Lao Tzu. Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/kindness”)
“So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.” (Colossians 3:12-13)
In 2017, my word for the year was “FOCUS!” I’m not sure how I did, but my wife says that I have done better on focusing. My wife is a very kind and compassionate person, but she isn’t prone to lying, so I assume that she is right.
The word for 2018 is KINDNESS.
My sponsor encouraged me some time ago to craft my own personal daily affirmations. This year he upped the ante: He suggested that I craft a master affirmation for the entire year—one that would enrich the daily affirmations. Below is my response to him this morning.
“I have thought about and prayed about your suggestion that I have a master affirmation for 2018. I have decided that I like the idea a lot. (I suspect that God likes it too.)
So, after some thought I have decided to pair it with another suggestion from a weekly newsletter I get from Jon Gordon (“Positive Tips” website.) Gordon suggests choosing one word for the year. . . .
The word for 2018 is “KINDNESS”.
So, with all that as preface, here is my master affirmation for the year:
THE WORD FOR THIS YEAR IS KINDNESS: KINDNESS RECEIVED AND KINDNESS GIVEN
AFFIRMATION FOR THE YEAR: This year, by God’s grace, I am consistently kind and obedient to God, appropriately kind to myself, and kind to all living things (which includes other people).”
Of course, it is much easier to be kind to God and others, when I realize that God is kind, and that God has shown me a great deal of kindness. And I do recognize God’s kindness, at least to some degree. So, the first thing I need to do is to meditate on God’s great kindness to me.
But even a realization of God’s kindness and the desire to be kind are not enough. Kindness takes daily practice. No one learns to cook or play the piano without regular, consistent practice. Why should kindness be any different?
I need to keep my eyes, ears, heart, and schedule open, so that I can be kind to others. Kindness is a costly business. Above all, it requires consistent focus. And I can assure you that this selfish, attention-deficit-person is not good at either consistency or focus.
Who knows? Maybe the 2017 emphasis on focus is a good preparation for 2018: The Year of Kindness!
“NEGATIVE WORDS ARE SO MUCH EASIER”
A friend asked me a wonderfully thought-provoking question this morning: “Why do we have ‘invincible,’ but we don’t have ‘vincible’?”
Actually, there is such a word as “vincible,” but it is rarely used. (In fact, my spell checker flagged “vincible” as misspelled.)
My immediate response to my friend’s question was, “I don’t know, but offhandedly I would say that we are better at negating words than we are at using positive words.”
I don’t know if that is true, and I will need to do some more research, but I can think of several words that occur in a negative sense, while the same root is not used in a positive sense. For example, why do we speak of someone as “ruthless,” but we don’t generally describe anyone as “ruthfull.”
There is “distress,” but we don’t usually speak of “eustress.” This is so, despite the fact that the same psychologist (Hans Selye) coined both words. Why did one word catch on, but the other one didn’t?
Well, I’m not too confident about my response to my friend’s question, but I do think it was a wonderful question. (In fact, I commented to him that a good question is better than a really excellent answer.)
And here is one more thought: This gravitational pull toward negative words may say something rather uncomfortable—and negative—about us humans. (Of course, we do have the words “comfortable” and “positive,” don’t we?)
In any case, my friend’s question suggests some other, even more interesting questions. Do we really have more negative words than positive ones? If so, why is that?
Of course, these questions are not simply linguistic. They are philosophical, psychological, even perhaps spiritual questions.
I think I’ll live with these questions a while. Do you have any thoughts about the matter? Let me know!
“GOD —ALWAYS AT WORK IN US”
Here is a slightly revised recent journal entry.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Good morning, LORD of the universe! I won’t trouble myself asking how you are, since you are always good!
And thank you so much for always being good! I wish that I were more like You.
Wish, yes. Will, no. I do not will consistency. Sometimes, I don’t think I’m capable of willing consistency or being consistently willing to be like You.
Yet, I am tremendously comforted by Philippians 2:13.
“For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.” (New Living Translation)
In the original Greek, all these verbs are in the present tense, which conveys the ongoing, continual nature of what God is doing. It isn’t about my ability to be good or holy or even human. It is about God’s continual work in me.
God is working in me, both to will and to do what pleases God—when I feel as if God is working, and when I do not feel that God is working in me. God is working when I feel a billion light years away from God, just as much as when I am afraid to open my eyes because I do not think it appropriate to see God with the naked eye.
And God is continually at work in you, too. I know! It doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t make sense. But God is not the God of our feelings or our logic. He is the God who is continually working in you and in me.
God, help me, help us, to hang on to this truth. Or, better yet, may this truth hang on to us.
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