Mirror of the Soul

Sometimes it is far too easy to question the purpose of being an artist.  Why put hours upon hours upon hours into creating some flawed piece of writing or theatre when there are so many people starving to death across the world?  Why should I expect spending years of my life on a novel about pirates to be worth anything if I could have spent that time helping the poverty-stricken?  Why would people come to see a play I've written and produced when those in other countries are dying from martyrdom or disease?

Blessed Albert Chmielowski struggled mightily with a similar question.  He ultimately decided in favor of poverty, living with the poor in order to show them that they were loved.

Karol Wojtyla found inspiration in Blessed Albert's decision for his own journey from the arts to the priesthood and even enshrined the memory of that holy brother in a beautiful play titled Our God's Brother.  His decision led him down the path to become the much-loved Pope John Paul II.

With such mighty giants striding before, is there not great precedent for abandoning the arts for a greater call?

Yet the Church has ever encouraged the arts throughout the centuries.  If there is reason for the Church's support of art then it must be more than mere frivolity.  It must have an essential purpose—a teleological reason for existing.

It may seem odd to turn to a man who proclaimed himself an atheist for many years and whose later belief in God—if belief it was—seemed a peculiar cross between his Protestant upbringing and a study of Eastern religions, but truth is often found in strange places.  One may see the light and speak the truth without yet knowing it fully.  Without further ado, a quote from the well-known playwright:

"You use a glass mirror to see your face;

you use works of art to see your soul."

~George Bernard Shaw

There Shaw succinctly describes the reason we need art.  If we are to come to know ourselves in order that we may come to know God—the very reason for our existence—we must find somewhere a mirror to reflect back to us our very souls.  For there is found the image of God.

The artist then must delve deep, deep, deep into the darkest depths of the human heart.  If he would produce that glass that tells no lies, then he must fear nothing as he searches out the wounds of his own heart, sweeping out all the pains and evils into the light of day, hiding nothing in his creative effort.  No coward would face the discomfort of unveiling the reality hidden there.  Only a brave soul can stand face to face with the Truth.

You Are in the Hands of God

“Do not become upset when difficulty comes your way.  Laugh in its face and know that you are in the hands of God.”

These words come from a wise and holy man often quoted in the letters of one of my favorite spiritual writers, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J.  That man is Saint Francis de Sales whose feastday we celebrate today and who is known as the patron saint of writers.

Although I do not know whether Saint Francis de Sales ever used the exact phrase "abandonment to Divine Providence" his writings are full of that reality, as the above quotation illustrates.  For in it he essentially proclaims the most radical surrender to God.  Not only does he prescribe accepting difficulties or learning to endure them, but he goes much farther when he says to laugh in the face of difficulty.

Who can laugh in the face of poverty?  Who even smiles at the death of a loved one?  Who could find joy in utter destruction in the wake of some natural disaster?

We are no better when it comes to the small things.  We complain constantly about the most ridiculous of trifles.  We become despondent when things do not go as we expect and begin to try to figure out what we have done wrong that might have led to such unfortunate results.

For we still think we are in control.

No matter how much we believe that God exists and that He is all-powerful, we still hesitate to believe in the insignificance of our power.  We still cling madly to the Ring of Power despite the fact that another controls our will through it.

Saint Francis de Sales knew better:

"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day.  Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.  Be at peace, then, put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations, and say continually: The Lord is my strength and shield; my heart has trusted in Him and I am helped.  He is not only with me, but in me and I in Him.”

If we believe in the incredible power of God, in His infinite wisdom, and in His guidance of our lives, we need fear nothing.  We need not worry.  We can take joy in all the happenings in our lives and around us, knowing that God is using all for our greater good so long as we surrender our lives to Him.

We shall fall no doubt.  We cannot believe perfectly, frail human creatures that we are.

Yet Saint Francis de Sales had wise words on that reality also:

“God takes pleasure to see you take your little steps; and like a good father who holds His child by the hand, He will accommodate His steps to yours and will be content to go no faster than you.  Why do you worry?”

In all things, even in our surrender to Him, we can be content to continue making the effort.  We will fall, but we will get up.  Sometimes we will see the glory of all the little strands about us weaving together into a strong rope to lift us up into the brilliant light of the heavens.  Sometimes we will struggle along through the darkness, not knowing where we step.

“During the night we must wait for the light.” 

For at the opportune moment, He will intervene with a bright new dawn and in that morning we shall sing as we were created to sing.

The Misfortune of Being Good

"Yes.  I had the misfortune to be born good.  And it is a misfortune, I can tell you, General.  I really am truthful and unselfish and all the rest of it; and it's nothing but cowardice; want of character; want of being really, strongly, positively oneself."

-the Strange Lady, "Man of Destiny" by George Bernard Shaw

When I first read this quotation it struck me by its paradoxical nature.  (Of course it also struck me rather personally, but that's another can of worms.)

As I continue to reflect upon these words, I marvel at how beautifully Shaw broke apart the culture of niceness in these few phrases.  For in our modern society we tend to think of qualities such as niceness and tolerance as being admirable.  Often we look at those quiet and pious by temperament as being advanced in holiness.

Yet I daresay Saint Paul would object strongly to such folly.  After all, he had to struggle mightily to live a virtuous life and even be knocked off his horse (literally enough) because he was going the wrong direction.  He was not afraid to stand up to Saint Peter and tell him he was wrong, nor did he have any trouble calling out those not following the right path.  And if you read his writings, there's the boasting....  In short, he was quite positively and unashamedly himself.  So I don't think he fits that mode of niceness in the least.

Now you might wonder how there could possibly be misfortune in being by nature good, or being a nice person, especially if you happen to be someone who struggles with temptations on a grander scale.  I will tell you.

First let me offer you an analogy: imagine that you are a long-distance runner and that running comes easily to you so that you win each race and never have to do much training while those around you must spend hours every day trying to get their bodies into shape and still never quite measure up.  Now imagine you injure yourself so that you are no longer able to run with such ease.  That handicap weighs down on your spirits and you lose race after race.  Soon you fall into depression because you cannot face the seemingly-insurmountable difficulties.  You give up on running and try to pursue another course, but to no avail.  Everywhere you meet failure.  On the other hand, one of your fellow runners who had to struggle so hard and had to deal with natural handicaps to his speed now outstrips everyone else because he has put so much into his training.  If you put as much into as he did you might take the lead again, but why would you when it came easily before?

Now obviously the competitive nature of this analogy does not carry across into the evaluation of the nice person.  However, the main thrust remains the same: if you do not have to strive hard after virtue and you suddenly come face to face with a difficult situation or great temptation, what will keep you from giving in?

Thus being by nature inclined toward what is good can prevent one from developing true goodness, the goodness that comes of virtue hard won by the grace of God.  Natural goodness may be no more than weakness, a fear of offending others, a fear of being seen as less than perfect.  This pseudo-virtue that stems from pride is the mask of a coward not a saint.  Niceness may yet bear fruit, but only through the same fire of purification that burns away the dross from the silver of those who seek God in all the messiness of their disagreeableness.

May you run, as Saint Paul says, to win a crown that will not fade!

Oh Providence

There are a great number of people who have difficulty believing in a good God based upon the evils that happen to them or to the world at large.  On the other hand, there are a great number of people who believe in a good God because of the good things that happen to them and how everything works out well for them—adherents of the ol' Prosperity Gospel as it were.

I try not to fall into the latter category.  I try to trust that everything happens for a reason and that everything that God sends me is indeed a gift no matter how difficult to handle.

A beautiful approach to life as a passive recipient, however, can become a mind-crushing vice in taking action.  As usual, I can best find examples from my life to illustrate my meaning: in this case, I have set out to create a work of art in honor of the Epiphany.  For weeks I have trusted that it would all come together even though I was lacking certain necessary elements (i.e. actors).  Now it seems a bit as if everything is falling apart.  What do I do?

I begin to wonder if that will be the cry of my life.  Is that not the cry of all our lives?  What do we do when things don't go as we expect?  What do we do when God does not provide what we think we need? We could give up.  We could decide it wasn't God's will after all.  We could take it merely as disappointment and try to thank Him for that gift.

Or we can go on.

Into the valley of death
Rode the six hundred.

For some reason lines from Tennyson's poem "The Charge of the Light Brigade" often come to mind in these times of struggle and darkness.

Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.

It isn't our right to command, nor to control the destiny of our lives or the lives of others.  We could flee in terror, cowards that we often are.  Or we can hold our ground, we can advance, we can charge forward when it seems like folly, when it seems that all is lost.  That is trust.  That is faith.  And that is one of the hardest things we can ever do.

What will He do with it?

That remains still to be seen, but He will do something glorious with it.  That we must believe.

When can their glory fade?

A Man of Deep Love

I have little enough to add to my words of last year upon this date, December the 22nd, the feast of my patron and namesake, Blessed Jacopone da Todi.  (If you would like to read those words, you may find them here.)

Although there is so much I might reflect upon from the greatness of this man I know best through his poetry, now does not seem the time.  Therefore I shall simply share with you a poem I wrote in the spring of 2012 as I sat beside his tomb in the peaceful stillness—a poem that is also a prayer.

The tomb of Blessed Jacopone da Todi

To Blessed Jacopone at his tomb

To pray and go—should be enough;

Yet still I linger here and wait

For what I do not know. Perhaps

I hope some miracle will appear—

Some sign of grace to take my heart

And convert it to His love.

Pray for me—that is enough

To ask. Pray for me that I may bow

My will to His and serve not myself

But Him alone in those I meet—

Through His power then may my heart

Witness to the world of His love.

O Blessed Jacopone, is this enough?

To lay my prayers before thy tomb,

That what I cannot do alone I may yet

Accomplish through thy prayers for me,

For His grace poured out upon my heart

To convert all to His love.

Beyond Our Hopes

"...our works never attain the scope of our desires."

Pedro Calderón de la Barca

When I ran across this quotation again the other day, I began to reflect upon how vastly differently I understood it in light of all the experiences that have come after that discovery of a frustrated college student studying theatre and failing to achieve desired perfection.  For then I understood it only as poetic expression of another failed perfectionist.  There was a certain encouragement in these words of dissatisfaction coming from one who has become a noted figure in Spanish theatre and certainly a significant playwright.

Now, however, although I still see that meaning I originally understood, I see another one as well.  Perhaps there may even be more meanings I have yet to comprehend.

My new understanding arises from an experience with my latest theatrical venture.  It was meant to be simple: I would get together a group of artists of various sorts and see what I could help them put together as a meditation on beauty for Advent.

At our first meeting I said I wouldn't write a script.  There were other things later I said I wouldn't do: act and direct, for instance, or dance.  When working for the Lord one must be careful about saying one won't do something it seems, for as the weeks progressed, I gradually took on more and more until I was doing everything I had said I wouldn't do, as if He intended to prove me wrong on every score....

The joy of it was that the reason I had intended not to do all of these things was partly humility.  Those who humble themselves will be exalted....

I certainly had a taste of that.  I felt as if the Holy Spirit were guiding the entire way: He was directing and I merely following.  I found myself doing things I never would have imagined I could.  Together with the wonderful talent and dedication of my fellow artists and musicians (and the support of our tech crew of one), I created a work of art that did not attain the scope of my desires simply because it surpassed it.  Give something to God and He will do amazing things with it: that is what I learned once more.  I also learned that I can set my expectations smaller than what He intends.

That is a beautiful thought to ponder in this season of Advent.  For do we not often set the scope of our desires too low in our spiritual journey?

Advent is a time of sacrifice, of preparation, and of waiting.  It is a time for growth.  We are to prepare our hearts to receive the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in the coming celebration of Christmas.

What better way than to humble ourselves before Him and give everything to Him?  Weak creatures that we are, we find a greater joy and confidence in our surrender when we know that good fruit will come from it.  And it will.  Because He has the power to transform even the smallest action into a salvific work.  For He is God and we are not, He is all-powerful and we merely mortals stumbling along in this dark vale of tears....

A Prayer for the Weary

I want to share with you a beautiful prayer I ran across somewhere in my research for my latest theatrical project.  As I find myself awash now in the weariness following the intensity of preparing for said project, these words credited to the great Saint Augustine lift my heart a little.  May they lift yours also in your journey, especially if feel your steps dragging with reluctance as you go forward in the great battle of life.  Here is his prayer:

"God of our life, there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and weigh us down; when the road seems dreary and endless, the skies gray and threatening; when our lives have no music in them, and our hearts are lonely, and our souls have lost their courage. Flood the path with light, run our eyes to where the skies are full of promise; tune our hearts to brave music; give us the sense of comradeship with heroes and saints of every age; and so quicken our spirits that we may be able to encourage the souls of all who journey with us on the road of life, to your honor and glory."

And may Saint Nicholas of Myra intercede for us upon his feastday today!