New Year's and Our Capacity for Newness

New Year’s celebrations are funny things.  Where 364 past midnights have passed by with barely a whimper, this one on December 31^st gets all the bang and splendor of a world-changing event. Where people have slept through most of the midnights of the year, extra effort is made to “stay up” for this one. For grownups, New Year’s Eve is like waiting up for Santa, for the gift of new opportunities, dusted-off hopes and dreams, a toast into the darkness, full of glitter and noise.

I admit that I’m no different than others in this respect. This last New Year’s Eve, I was with a small group of seven Brothers who had gone to a rustic camp on the Russian River in Northern California, one which we have owned since the 1920’s. Overlooking the river, we had a nice dinner – the steaks were way too big for my newly Singaporeanized tastes – and then people read or talked or went to the TV room down the hall. About twenty minutes before midnight, we all went into the TV room, watched the crazy people at Times Square with their semi-manufactured excitement, and took part in the general wave of anticipation (with a three-hour delay). Finally, amidst huge screens and light, glitter and noise, the “ball” dropped and we all toasted in the New Year with a small glass of champagne. Then we gratefully moved to our small bedrooms and forgot all about it.

Funny enough, the next morning was pretty much as it had been the day before, and people were pretty much the same as they were before. So where was the difference? We would now be a bit careful when we wrote out a date, making sure that it was “2014” and not the automatic “2013.” We would begin to work on a couple of personal resolutions, usually surrounding weight and exercise. And we would have a slightly brighter disposition for a few days or weeks, because something new had begun.

It’s the celebration of that newness, it seems to me, that makes all the difference for us. You could even say that New Year’s Eve is a celebration of our capacity for newness. Change is possible and exciting, no matter how small. Potential and hope are ever nearby, waiting to be recognized. We may get distracted by buying new clothes, new trinkets, new phones, believing these may fill the hole in the soul. Yet each time it’s not really enough, doesn’t really do the trick. There’s a “more” that drives our capacity for newness, and it is one that comes from the drive of life itself, from an instinct to be part of this world, to be alive.

Our capacity for newness is also manifested in our sense of wonder and imagination. Mystery, including the mystery of life itself, remains ever intriguing and captivating. Just see the expression on the faces of children and the young at heart when they encounter new aspects of the world around them. We say that they “light up” with excitement, with the sheer brilliance of the newness of it all.

This capacity for newness is something that requires sustenance and regular exercise, and not only the annual slightly inebriated gesture into the night. Kids discover newness best and do so naturally. Older folks with tendencies of ossification have to be more intentional about it. But it is always there, willing to be brought into the light of day, even if that light has to be made up of exploding fireworks.

May you be well and truly blessed with all the new that embraces you, remembering St. Augustine’s insight: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

Christmas Poem

Let Advent seek, let mists descend,

Let all creation stare;

Let humble eyes a sight behold

That stirs a soul laid bare.

While shoppers run and sales abound,

While children's eyes are wide;

While money flows and gifts are wrapped,

Let stand the greedy tide.

Take care to keep from letting go,

From turning with the rest.

Take time to wait and time to know

The better from the best.

Look back and see through fog and veil

The site of love's release;

A land, a star, a shepherd's cave,

A blessed place of peace.

Inside, the dust and dirt fly all about;

The hay lies old and spent.

Yet rests the babe, with mother near,

In every way content.

The beasts are still, the light is faint,

The rags are small and worn.

And all can sense with quiet ease

The Savior who is born.

Now does he raise his tiny hand

And smile with simple joy; 

Love's gaze in faces all around

Supply his only toy.

No trains, no cars, no fancy games

Are given here this night.

But human comfort, care, and love

Provide his true delight.

For shepherd, sheep, and kings alike

'Tis plenty to behold;

This vision of our God enfleshed

In greater good than gold.

Creation's best, and some besides,

Dwells there for all to see.

The simple truths are quite at hand, 

Just waiting to go free.

A gift of self, a gift of time,

A love spread out as leaven,

Share in this truth, this mystery lived,

Of earth enjoined with heaven.

If Christ was borne that night to us,

And we as much do say,

Then should we not with eager heart

Bear him in mind today?

For this I know, a simple fact,

Yet charged with certainty:

That what we do with Christ this day

Does change eternity.

The gifts we have, the gifts we share,

Have never been our own.

They  have been borne by God for us;

They are the royal throne.

Stand still, dear friend, and look about,

While stars and night do sing

With brilliant light and mystic sound:

"All glory to the King!"

The Good Samaritan - A Reflection for Christmas

One of the more popular stories in the New Testament is the one of the merciful Samaritan. As we approach the time of Christmas, of goodness and God breaking into the universe of our largely myopic world, the story that Jesus shared is worth thinking about.

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers? The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:30-37)

Instead of commenting on it myself, allow me to share the commentary of someone else, as a small meditative gift for your Christmas time reflections.

“Today's Gospel in short, contains everything which is the way of the Christian. The first commandment is that we should love our God with all our heart, with all our mind, with all our strength, with all our being, and our neighbour as ourselves. To love means to prefer all that is dear to the beloved person, to what is dear to us. To love God means that we should live, and indeed be such that He could rejoice in what we are, that there should be nothing alien to Him in our lives.

"And here comes the second commandment, which the lawyer did not understand: that we should love our neighbour as ourselves. To love again our neighbour, forgetting ourselves. Very often we think that we are worthy Christians if we feel that we have in our hearts a warmth, that we love God. But this is not enough. The test of this love is to share God's own love for every one of our neighbours. I remember a sad moment in my own life, when my father asked me: what was the dream of my life? I was young then, and I said, 'To be with God alone.' And he looked sadly at me and said, 'You have not begun to be a Christian.' Because if we love God we must share with Him all His concerns for the whole world and for each person in this world.

"Let us, therefore, take this short event in the life of Christ and the parable as a rule. We will never be able to know how much we love God. It is difficult, because it is so easy to delude oneself. Even when we say that we love someone, a moment may come when selfishness, indifference, a quarrel may make an end, at least for a time, to our mutual friendship and closeness. But there is a criterion which is objective. How do you treat your neighbour? What does he mean to you? If he means nothing, if he is a passer-by, if he is only someone in your way, or if he is someone to whom you can pay attention when you are in the right mood, then we have not begun to love God and to love the world together with Him. Let us therefore think of it, ask ourselves pertinent questions, and redress our lives. Amen.” (Metropolitan Anthony of Souroh)

St. John of the Cross for Graduates

Students here graduate from school around this time. This was written for all of those who are graduating or moving on.

Very soon now, life will change for you, and it will keep on changing. Those who have been around this world a while longer than you will tell you that everyone gradually finds out that you must keep the important things important. How do you do that? One way to do that is to do something that you have already done for many years, diving deeply and regularly into the well of yourself, and listening closely to the wise words that have lasted through the ages. No one is an island. We are all supported, surrounded, and sustained by people, words, and events that continue to give us life.

Below are some wise words that provide a limitless horizon for personal reflection, where each phrase will gain new meaning as the years pass, and whereby you will be well guided in the years ahead. It’s not easy to come back to this again and again, but it’s good… and important.

By St. John of the Cross (1542-1591)

Desire its possession in nothing,

To come to the knowledge of all

Desire the knowledge of nothing.

To come to possess all

Desire the possession of nothing.

To arrive at being all Desire to be nothing.

To come to the pleasure you have not

You must go by a way in which you enjoy not.

To come to the knowledge you have not

You must go by a way in which you know not.

To come to the possession you have not

You must go by a way in which you possess not.

To come to be what you are not

You must go by a way in which you are not.

When you turn toward something

You cease to cast yourself upon the all,

For to go from the all to the all

You must possess it without wanting anything.

In this nakedness the spirit finds its rest,

for when it covets nothing

Nothing raises it up and nothing weighs it down,

because it stands in the centre of its humility.

Friday, November 22, 1963

Fifty years ago today, I was eleven years old and living in Napa, California. Our family of seven (2 older sisters, 2 younger brothers) had just arrived 8 months earlier from Holland, full of hope and angst. Only my father knew English, but the rest of us were well on the way to picking it up, immersed in our classes at a local parochial school, taught by Sisters of Mercy from Ireland, all heavily dressed in black robes but always carrying a sparkle in their eyes and a keen sense of humour, which gave humanity to their no-nonsense teaching style.

In my own case, Sr. Mary Ligouri had placed me in the back of the 5^th grade classroom and assigned one of the brighter boys to help “tutor” me, giving us an early grade spelling / writing book as our only resource. It was full of pictures, and in the way that kids have, we were able to communicate despite the fact that there was no shared language. When I’d finished one book, the next grade’s version would appear. Gradually, immersion did the trick and English became my dominant language – although I won’t tell you what my first learned words were.

Life might have been hard for my father and mother, uprooting themselves from all that they had known and loved, relatives and friends included, but there was a general tone of optimism through it all. We had done what my father had wanted to do twenty years earlier, and here we were in the land of opportunity, with a young President, beautiful vistas, and roads that went on forever. Where in Holland you would make serious plans if you were visiting relatives in a town 15-20 miles away, here that would simply be a nice afternoon drive to go shopping.

In some ways it was quite an idyllic time. I had a newspaper delivery route on early mornings, served Mass at 6:30 am during my shift at the local parish, bicycling there in the semi-darkness, and enjoyed making new friends among a group of classmates that were much more multi-cultural than the society from which we had come.

As you may have guessed, I’m trying to set the scene for the news that Sr. Mary Ligouri shared with us just before lunch on November 22, 1963, with tears in her eyes and a constricted voice. An old TV was found and rolled out. Lessons stopped. The news on the small black and white television became our most important teacher. And the idyllic dreams for the future became a bit less idyllic for a while. For three days, the world watched as the nation went through its mourning rituals, with the television as our 1960’s version of the internet, communicating what it could and providing a national support network for us all. It was an amazing experience.

Today, when I reflect back, I can appreciate the sense of tragedy, injustice, and mild national depression that ensued. But I also recall the palpable and growing national conviction that even this would not undermine the country’s aspirations and hopes. If anything, it made them all the more important, focused, and worthwhile. Difficulties and suffering can bring goodness to light, although it requires a change in perspective. “The dark takes form in the heart of the white, and reveals it.” (Rabindranath Tagore) Finally, with grace and experience, hope prevails.

The Internal School Dynamic

A few days ago, one of the students at the school sent me a series of questions as part of a project that he is doing about the students and staff at SJI International. The questions were perceptive, and they made me wonder how others at the school might answer them. Allow me to share three of the questions along with my answers, which I have slightly expanded on here, and invite you to reflect on how you might answer these questions yourself, even if you are not a teacher at the school.

1) Do you think that the students in this school are better-behaved than in the other schools that you taught in? Generally, I find that the students at this school behave according to standards that I have found in many other Lasallian schools. It comes from two things. First, there is a growing understanding and respect that students have for themselves and others, and this is something that is generated by the kinds of interaction that are encouraged and supported by the staff. Second, students grow to appreciate, and become involved in, a community of persons that includes not only their friends, but also all those who are associated with the school in various ways (support people, parents, coaches, invited guests, etc.). The only difference that I would say I have found at SJI International is that here most students have a disposition and background that makes them particularly open to these kinds of developments. Their experience in an internationally-based culture, manifested both at home and in the larger Singaporean society, makes them more open to the rapid development of these appreciation factors in themselves and in others. There’s a great social work ethic at play here.

2) Do you think that the staff members in this school treat one other fairly? From all that I have seen, the staff members treat one another very fairly, and they are generous with their time and talents in supporting the efforts of other staff members. In a recently introduced process for complimenting fellow staff members at our staff briefings, this continues to be confirmed. The shape of the larger school community is significantly impacted by the community that is shaped among school staff, and in that respect we have been, and continue to be, blessed.

3) What do you think about the students in this school? I think that the students at our school have high standards for themselves, and there are high standards that are imposed on them from the outside. As they move through the learning process, and as they are guided by good teachers and other role models, they come to discover that there is more to learning than recalling facts or toning intellectual skills, and that there is more to themselves than their brains. The central role of personal development - intellectually, emotionally, spirituality, relationally, etc. - comes to life during these formative years, guided by friendships, struggles, challenges, joys, and all those things that happen during this key personal development period. As a result, people begin to blossom into who they were ready to be, and students begin to see in others the same sorts of things that they are discovering in themselves. In all, it makes for a vibrant and rather busy school community.

On November 1st, the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of All Saints, when all those men and women through the ages who have led holy lives, known and unknown, are celebrated and remembered. Another term for "All Saints" is "All Hallows." The evening before was once known as All Hallows' Evening, or Hallowe'en for short. Depending on which wikipedia or internet resource you read, various popular traditions through the ages have coalesced into the evening's death-and-candy version in the American cultural tradition, aided by costume-makers, candy manufacturers, and all the other industries (perhaps even dentists?) that make this a rather lucrative time of year. But the kids aren't complaining.

In the final analysis, but without as much popularity, we might do better to focus on those on the other end of the scary spectrum. Ghosts and goblins, death and fear, witches and warlocks may stretch our virtual experience of life's mysterious dimension. But I would suggest that saints and sinners (redeemed), life and genuine faith (trust), people of charity and those of anonymous generosity stretch our real experience of life's mysterious dimension. They certainly scare me more effectively than the first set, in the sense that they shock me out of complacency and cause me to examine my own daily decision-making options and opportunities.

There are the saints who are the usual suspects when it comes to heroic, sacrificial, and  generous lives. These include St. Francis, Mother Teresa, Oscar Romero, John Paul II and the like. Their popularity in various parts of the world makes them attractive, but most people would say that they could never be like them, and therefore they won't try. However, perhaps the more challenging folks are the people you know - and I'm sure that you do know them and could even name them if you had to - who quietly exhibit positive, generous, and even "holy" qualities that you very well know that you could do yourself, if only the decision were made and you followed through with it. The problem is not that we don't know how to recognize the saints in our midst, or the saint-like things that we could do ourselves. The problem is that we seem to have some sort of natural resistance to doing so on a regular basis. That certainly is my own experience, and the Church has traditionally described this as an aspect of "original sin" in our lives; i.e., that tendency to lean to the less good and failure to consistently pursue the more good.

What the saints - both known and unknown - teach us is that anyone of us can change the course of our lives in this respect. Virtues such as patience, humility, and kindness throw invitations at our feet on a very regular basis. Little choices turn into larger choices, piece by piece, and actions tend to follow our choices, so that eventually, like steps up a mountain or brush-strokes on a canvas, a new vista is attained or a fresh perspective is achieved. Only then may the journey be fully understood in a new light.

It seems to me that much of this has to do with the cultivation of specific habits, a disposition and equal will that gradually bend the soul towards the good, the true, and the beautiful. Saints are those who become so by growing intensity, who would be surprised (and deny it) if others identified them as such. It's simply who they are. No wonder they pray so much.

The "However" Part of Education

I’m in the middle of preparing a talk on the wider dimensions of education, especially those aspects of whatever it is in “education” that is related to the development of an ethical compass. In some ways, these “other bits” of the educational enterprise are obvious and self-evident, known well to any parent who is raising a child (an interesting use of that verb, by the way). But in other ways, non-traditionally recognized aspects of what really happens in education are largely neglected, and they are usually not intentionally pursued in schools. Thankfully, they are the daily substance of how genuine teachers live out their vocation.

W.B. Yeats famously said that “Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” There is a powerful spark within each of us, just waiting to be turned into a flame. Yes, part of the educational journey requires the acquisition of information and the processing of that information in ways that make sense. There is indeed something to be “filled” through the process of education. However, this emptiness, openness, desire for knowledge, capacity for learning, is something that has more to do with the power and potential of fire, with all of its risky and quietly fierce potential, than it has to do with a simple container waiting to be patiently filled with liquid knowledge.

We should also take note of fact that fire cannot live without fuel from below and oxygen from above. Learning is empowered by those who, and that which, feeds the mind and the soul, giving life to the potential spark within each soul. And learning is enabled and shaped by the surroundings, context, community, friends and family, society, and world within it is bound to live, or brought to live. Both bring substance and definition to how that fire will come to be, for good or ill.

The formation of character has more to do with surroundings than with acquired knowledge, although both may be considered. Many success stories by individuals often revolve about a particular group or person who made a key difference in the direction of their lives. Recently, I heard a very successful business man speak about how his principal in grade school found out that he had fainted on the school grounds, determined that it was due to a lack of proper nourishment, and for a long time afterwards made him come to his office each day at break time in order to drink a small container of milk, not allowing him to leave until he had done so. To this day, the man remembers that story and the impact that it had on him. Something more than filling an empty stomach was going on here, and that’s “more” piece made a real difference in his true education.

What this is about is the formation of character, the shaping of the attitudes, priorities, convictions, and dispositions that define how an individual will live in the world, whether observed or not. Character is who you are when no one is watching.

What do you value from your education? Dribs and drabs of knowledge may rise to the surface, but true memories revolve around people, situations, dilemmas, decisions about what to do and what not to do, mistaken made, friends hurt, relationship repaired, services rendered, and so on. True education – the kind that really takes place – is found among the relationships and dynamics that others may see as “only” the context for education. 

Exams are okay and necessary. Knowledge feeds the mind and gives substance to our conscious life. Learning is happening all of the time, with books, with people, with situations, with the universe within which we live. All of that makes sense and should be applauded. There is a “however,” however. What dwells in that “however” will, I think, turn out to be much more important in one’s life than may be anticipated or fully appreciated.

What Lazarus Teaches Us

It’s always a fascinating thing to look at the Gospel when you don’t have to. Many people in church on a Sunday – am I giving something away here? – come to the end of the reading of the Gospel at Mass, dutifully standing up, and sit down for the homily realizing that they hadn’t really heard a thing. Instead, they had noticed the way that wall seemed to lean a little bit or the kid squirrelling around in his seat, or they had been thinking about sports, or people in their lives, or what they would do this afternoon. Now of course you are not one of those people. But you may be able to imagine them.

Therefore, I’ll give you a heads-up about the Gospel for this coming Sunday. It’s about the rich man who had a poor man named Lazarus begging at the gate, longing for some scraps. And when they both died, Hollywood couldn’t have come up with a better story of what happens. See Luke 16:19-31 if you’re curious.

The interesting part of the story for me is that the rich man ends up asking if the poor man could do him a favour. It’s as if he knew that Lazarus would be better disposed towards someone in suffering. Only when he was himself suffering did the rich man learn the reality and value of compassion. But it was a bit too late, and he couldn’t even share this newfound knowledge with others, let alone act on it. Time had run out.

The text has Abraham describing a “great chasm” between the world of the rich man and the world of the poor man. This was certainly true during their lives, and it became even more true in death. In life, the poor man literally sat at the rich man’s gate, begging, and in death the rich man also sat at the poor man’s “gate,” begging, but the chasm was much larger and could not be breached. It wouldn’t take much effort to think of similar situations in our own lives, where personal and social chasms bring about even deeper ones, and we can only sit at the gate and beg for mercy.

In all things, where we end up depends on where we have been heading. Chasms are crossed or created according what we grow within us and what we promote with those around us. If you cultivate peace, you find peace and share it without thinking much about it. If you harbour resentment, you find resentment and share it without thinking much about it. What we seek, desire, look for, and work for, we find in one way or another.

The story that Jesus relates in the Gospel – the Good News – is a poignant reminder of our capacity for good or ill. There are and shall be consequences. It’s best to be attentive, both in hearing the Gospel when it is read and in letting those words penetrate the gate of our conscience.

We may even find that our lives are transformed in ways that only Lazarus could fully appreciate.

The Relationship Equation

“It is only by a definite and even deliberate narrowing of the mind that we can keep religion out of education.” (G.K. Chesterton)

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been giving a lot of thought to religious education or religious formation, including its place in a school’s curriculum. This is always a topic about which parents (and students) are either blasé, unimpressed, resigned, marginally interested, curious, concerned, or unambiguously strong-minded. Why is it that this should be the case for RE or faith topics, and the same wide range of reactions is not universally found about topics such as food, cars, exercise, children, relationships, savings plans, college studies, or the latest phone apps?

The closest equivalent might be found in the topic of politics. Hence the oft-stated advice to stay away from religion and politics in polite conversation. Religion deals with the deeply personal as related to all that is not personal, and politics deals with all that is not personal as related to the deeply personal. They are two directional perspectives of a personal stance towards the “other” – all that is not you – as if one were looking either through a microscope (politics) or a telescope (religion). Both are lived out through relationships and are based on personal history and developed attitudes, priorities, hopes and dreams. Neither topic can be easily dismissed during the course of life. At some point, or rather at all points, decisions will need to be made.

In any school, the decision currency at work revolves around relationships. The numbers involved in this currency breaks the bank in a school context. For example, the number of possible relationships in a group is determined by the formula [N x (N-1)/2] where N is the number of people in the group. For SJI International, this means that there are roughly 405,000 relationships possible in the High School and 230,000 relationships possible in the Elementary School. Counting all students and teachers on the property, there are about 1,250,000 relationships possible and “in play” on any given school day. That’s rather daunting to think about.

This simple fact and real potential may also provide some context for understanding why the two topics of religion and politics bear such careful consideration when brought to the light of public display. Every single person who has developed an appreciation of the value of relationships – and who hasn’t? – and who has begun to wonder why things are one way and not another way – and who hasn’t? – is in a position to have formed a perspective about things in their immediate world of experience. This real, daily, deeply personal world is vastly different for a 5-year-old, a 15-year-old, a 25-year-old, and so on. Decisions have to be made. Attention must be paid. And once a personal perspective emerges and takes root, you’ve landed in the world of religion and politics, where choices abound and each choice makes a difference. They lead to further or deeper relationships, further or deeper experiences, further or deeper perspectives. Decisions become rings on the trunk of personal development. Gradually, a life is shaped and directions are set, whether they be along ruts or super-highways. Every day, you also shape other lives, whether acknowledged or not. Eventually, the ship of soul drifts more towards politics or religion as one’s preferred universe of engagement, with sensitivity and excitement levels to match. People become appreciative, generally happy, hopeful, and wholesome inside, or they become critical, generally unhappy, discouraged, and unpleasant inside. We reap what we sow. We harvest from what we decide.

You may have noticed that I’ve said nothing explicitly about religious education or religious formation, including its place in a school’s curriculum. This is because polite conversation must persist as much as the religious dimension of educational pursuits.

P.S. For the whole article by Chesterton, go to goo.gl/SFAL2E