Monday, June 1, 2009


I’ve always found change to be a difficult matter to deal with, especially when it has to do with the reorientation of my acquired personal dimensions of theological belief and conditioned lifestyle. I also have a difficult time believing I’m a unique example where this is concerned. I think it is a “one size fits all” kind of hat that comes in a gender neutral style and color.

There is a certain sense of security in remaining comfortable, in clinging to ideals that have enough of the truth in them to make them appear viable and realistic. It’s easy to opt for culturally acceptable ideals - social, relational, and religious ideals - that have enough applied lubricant to reduce heat and hold down friction.

It’s all too easy to choose the options that do little more than lead in tiny small circles, never going far, while always moving. And we think we are getting some place when in all actuality we are going no place.

The road that stretches before the feet of people is a challenge to their heart long before it tests the strength of their legs.[1] It’s easy to faint from fear long before we begin to experience the roughness and rigors of a course that takes us to points and places we’ve never been.

The faith-life, represented particularly in monastic spirituality but practically applicable to the whole of the Christian life, is an adventurous journey. It is one that calls us to fulfill a destiny that stands in stark contrast to the world’s concept of human fulfillment, one that challenges every secular notion of human success. It is one that is not content with building upon the faulty foundations of human whim and fancy.

Our destiny is to run to the edge of the world and beyond, off into the darkness: sure for all our blindness, secure for all our helplessness, strong for all our weaknesses, gaily in love for all the pressure on our hearts.[2]

[1] Walter Farrell O.P., My Way of Life, p. 1
[2] ibid