Rereading LOTR: a Good Hobbit for Good Living in 2013

My flight to Cleveland this afternoon was canceled due to inclement weather, delaying my holiday visit with family there.  Fortunately, I found out about the cancellation before I'd left for Logan Airport, so I did not have to languish in that miserable purgatory of discontented travelers.  Instead, I followed the loving advice of my wife Joy, the nurse who always has the right prescription for me, and sat back to enjoy several hours of Middle Earth by watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy.  

Good advice: in fact, it's just what the doctor, or better yet, the nurse ordered!  While killing time before heading to Logan for the late flight, then, I kicked back in my recliner, lit the Christmas lights on our tree, and watched the second and third movies of the trilogy: the Two Towers and Return of the King.  Great stuff.  While I did not go so far as to dress in costume or speak Elvish - I am, after all, only part nerd - I did enjoy entering into the story, a story that, like all the great ones, stands the test of time.  Indeed, watching these movies, plus the Hobbit last weekend, has made me not only want to read the books again, but has reminded me just how good, true, and beautiful the best stories are.  

I grew up on stories like Lord of the Rings, the Chronicles of Narnia, the Dark is Rising, Star Wars, and later, Harry Potter.  I owe this to my mom - in spite of the numerous Transformers I begged for on my endless Christmas lists in childhood, she stubbornly insisted on buying these book series for me, and I have been all the better for it.  They are what I continue to enjoy, even as my Transformers collected dust and found themselves in boxes over time.

So, what is it that makes these stories special to me?  For one thing, they give me a break from the tedium of everyday life, which does not always feel anything like adventure.  Secondly, I have always had an active, imagination hungry for good books and movies to devour, loving nothing better than a well-told story.  It's just the way I've always been.  Thirdly, and most importantly, I think the greatest stories touch upon the images, truths, memories, and dreams that animate humanity.  Joseph Campbell explored this line of inquiry far better than I could, but suffice it to say that I have found narrative most powerful in communicating the deeper truths in life and igniting one's spirit to seek them.  Stories don't just tell us what is true, good, and beautiful - or their opposites - but show us.  This is "show and tell" at its best; or, rather, tell and show - a story well told shows us the unsayable, that which cannot be said but can be apprehended and experienced.  

Returning to Lord of the Rings, then, I savor the movies and books, enjoying the characters, plot, and world hatched from the ingenious head of Tolkien.  I have not read the books in a good decade or so, so this winter I will refresh my memory and relish the stories once again, knowing that every rereading of inexhaustible classics such as these shows me something new.  And if there's a better way to get through the long, cold, nasty winter than curling up with a good book, I haven't heard it.

LeBron James and Ignatian Indifference

Last night, when I found out the Miami Heat won the NBA championship and LeBron James finally got his coveted ring, a number of bitter thoughts surfaced and swirled in my mind:

• He's still - putting it politely - an unpleasant person who has given new meaning to self-love.  
• He couldn't win without an all-star cast and outstanding role players surrounding him.
• He should have done it in Cleveland, but instead this is yet another punch in the stomach for us.
• Sports publications and commentators will fall over themselves with unbridled adulation for James.  
• Ugh, yuck, @#$@%!!!

This morning, however, I woke up with a new clarity dominated by one thought: who cares? Does this really change my life in any way?  No.  It's just sports, it's just a game, and as a good friend once said, "it doesn't have an impact on my life."

That may be going a bit too far.  Sports are a terrific diversion, a break from the real cares of life, and a well-played game by creative, gifted players like James is a work of art unto itself.  I've grown up rooting for my Cleveland teams, buying posters, collecting trading cards, and playing pickup games with friends, imagining I was Bernie Kosar, Jerry Rice, Larry Nance, and other greats.  In short, the sporting world has always been important to me, and I would be lying if I said I could simply dismiss it with mental sleight of hand.  

Nonetheless, I must put sports in proper perspective, and here I am reminded of the principle of "indifference" articulated by St. Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits.  For Ignatius, indifference referred not to "not caring," but to the cultivation of an interior stance of freedom by detaching from disordered affections.  As I understand it, that means letting go of the things which are not really important, things that get in the way of real living and loving, so that I can focus instead on the things that count, that really matter to me: my wife, family, friends, and the pursuit of meaning, happiness, and love.  

I will always enjoy my diversions - books, online articles, Facebook, movies, the outdoors, and of course sports - but as soon as I make any of these as the center of my universe, I'm lost.  I'm not free, I'm not myself, and I'm certainly not happy.  

So to hell with LeBron and his overrated, overpaid, prima donna brethren in the professional sporting world.  Let them have their rings, let them count their money, and let them hug their trophies.  I will never dismiss them entirely.  I will never turn them off completely.  I will never not watch the games.  But the more I can put them in their proper place and remind myself that they really don't matter, make a real difference, or deserve an inordinate amount of attention or devotion, the better off I and the people around me will be.  

A Valentine Story

If you're looking for a heartwarming love story for Valentine's Day, check out the talk below, which I had written and given at a Kairos retreat (K105 love!) last fall.  The theme was "Love In Action," so it's obvious what came first to my mind: my wife Joy!

A budding young Jedi Michael.

When I was a child, I had my favorite action heroes, the ones who overcame evil and saved the day in the pages of books and on movie screens.  My walls were covered with their posters, my sheets with their images, my room with their action figures.   My parents, in fact, spent a small fortune supplying me with these heroes.  There was Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, who faced Darth Vader and defeated the Emperor in the Star Wars saga.  There was Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, who protected the human race from the evil Decepticons.  As I grew up, I moved on to new stories and heroes: Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter in Harry Potter, William Wallace in Braveheart, and General Maximus in Gladiator.  These and other action heroes captured my imagination, defeating darkness and bringing in a bright new day.

A romantic Valentine's Day moment at White Castle.

The problem with these action heroes, however, is that they cannot go beyond the pages of the book or scenes of the movie.  Once I close the book or eject the DVD, they are gone, and I am left with real life.  Fortunately, I have heroes there, too – not action heroes, but heroes in action.  They are heroes because they have shown me love in action, and I have been blessed with many such heroes in my life - but no one has done a better job of showing and teaching me love in action then my wife Joy.  She is my biggest hero, the one who saved my day, and therefore this talk about love in action is really a Joy Story.  

Niagara Falls.

I first met Joy on a spring break Appalachia Volunteers trip to Cape Charles, Virginia during my senior year at BC.  Those of you who have made service trips know that a long road trip really helps you get to know your fellow volunteers, and Joy immediately stood out as  someone I really wanted to get to know.  I was first struck by her big blue eyes, and thought she was the most adorable person I’d ever met, aside from myself.  Then, when she started talking and opening up on the trip, I was struck by what a silly smartass she was.  She made me laugh out loud – still does – and yet beneath her whacky sense of humor lay a layer of sweetness like the cake below the icing.  Needless to say, I was quickly taken with her, so much so that during a free time session of karaoke, I sang Sweet Child o’ Mine by Guns and Roses, directing it at her.  Poor kid, turned bright red while I was singing, and I did too, in part because it was probably the worst performance in the history of karaoke.  Yes, I and everyone in the room learned the hard way that I was not headed for a career in singing, and the fact that Joy remained interested in me in spite of that ordeal was a miracle indeed.  

On honeymoon in Maui.

Alas, she was a sophomore in the School of Nursing at BC, while I was graduating later that May and heading west into the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in Montana, so we were unable to pursue a relationship together.  However, after several years of wandering the country and dating on and off in relationships that didn’t last, I thankfully crossed paths with Joy again.  It was completely out of the blue, the blue of Facebook, when she friended me in the fall of 2008.  Surprised as I was, I remembered her in a heartbeat, and was even more pleased to see that her relationship status said “single.”  Yes!  We soon began emailing and IM’ing back and forth, enjoying the wit, humor, and goofiness that attracted us to each other in the first place.  These conversations soon escalated into visits in person: her flying to Cleveland where I lived, and I returning the favor by flying to Boston where she lived.  Eventually, the cost and annoyance of flying got to us, so she, being a nurse and thus more mobile than I, moved out to Cleveland in the summer of 2009.  If that’s not love – a lifelong Bostonian moving to Ohio – I don’t know what is!  Finally, I proposed to her on her birthday in July of last year – gave her a ring instead of a birthday gift, hoping that will count for several more birthdays to come – and we just got married this past May.  

Yippee-ky-ay, at the Toby Keith concert

So this Joy Story is not really that old, since we only started dating a few years ago and  been married only a few months.  At the same time, it feels like forever, and I hardly remember what life was like before her.  If I’m Forrest Gump, she’s my Jenny, and though “I may not be a smart man, I know what love is” – thanks to Joy!  The reason that, like Forest, I know what love is is because Joy has showered me with love in action.  How?  Let me count the ways:

1. She gives great gifts – Early in our relationship, I had been teasing her for some bogus ankle sprain that she babied by hobbling about on crutches: don’t be fooled, she could walk just fine, and she knew it!  So, while we were living apart, she sent me a Vermont teddy bear, complete with its own crutches and leg cast, on which was written “I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up!”  Another time, she bought us Celtics-Cavaliers tickets…for the game in Cleveland, thus implying that she was flying in from Boston to visit me, again, a total surprise.  How cool is that?

2. She bakes tasty cakes – When I first visited her in Boston, Joy welcomed me with a big cake…of ME!  She had made an image of me in frosting. It had everything: the Cavaliers tshirt, jeans, hiking boots, and book in hand.  Though it felt a bit unnerving to slice my image up and devour it, I soon got over the horror, because thanks to her mad baking skills, I tasted great!  She also made Sesame Street cupcakes for our team of leaders, and our friends here gleefully gobbled up Elmo, Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, and Cookie Monster – which was a bit traumatic for me b/c they were devouring my childhood heroes!

3. She makes me laugh – A few weeks ago, after a long day of studying, I opened the door to our apartment in the Newton Highlands and saw Grover from Sesame Street staring me in the face.  I thought I’d been in the library too long and had gone batty!  But no, it was just Joy showing off her Halloween costume, which she wore for the kids at Children’s Hospital in Boston, where she works.  I have no doubt that they laughed as hard as I did, and I am sure the costume will fit right in the huge box containing costumes from previous Halloweens, including a parrot, horse, and Dalmation costumes.  

4. Finally, Joy shared these little acts of love not only with me, but with my family, friends, and others as well.  She volunteered for a nonprofit baking birthday cakes for underprivileged kids who might not otherwise have anything with which to celebrate their birthdays.  When my mother had her knee replaced and was struggling through physical therapy, Joy sent her not one but two cards, as well as a batch of clam chowder from Legal Seafood, a favorite of my mom’s.  And when my dad suffered a head wound on a bike ride, Nurse Joy was there to clean and bandage him up.  My dad still calls her his “angel of mercy.”

My wife's soul twin.

That’s exactly what Joy has been for me - an angel of mercy – precisely because she puts love into action, showing me love in so many ways, so many actions.  She is my hero because her love in action has changed my life and changed me in so many ways.  For one thing, she has me doing things I never before in my wildest meatheaded macho dreams would have done: such as using cute pet names – I call her Peach b/c she’s short, blond, and adorable like Baby Peach in Mario Kart – and turning off the football game to watch shows like Desperate Housewives and Glee, though I still refuse to watch The View or the Lifetime Channel. 

Posing with the Major Award at the Xmas Story House

Beyond these silly superficialities, however, Joy’s love in action has impacted my life in far deeper, far-reaching ways: her love, in fact, has transformed it.  For several years after receiving my bachelors’ from BC, I had been somewhat lost and wandering, bouncing about the country, moving from Missoula, Montana to Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Ireland to Portland, Oregon and finally back to Cleveland.  I dabbled in a few careers but was satisfied with none, never really giving myself to my work.  I felt alone and lonely, uncertain of my place in an uncertain world.  I struggled with depression and anxiety, which runs in my family, and yearned for some deeper meaning that eluded me.  Life wasn’t really that bad, it just wasn’t good eno¬ugh.  Something was missing: until I rediscovered Joy.  Her love has given me that meaning for which I longed.  Her love has given me new life.  Like a hero, she saved my day, she saved my life, and she came just in time.  

Sharing a moment at the lake where I proposed.

Joy, in fact, is why I am at BC today – so you have her to thank or blame, depending on how you look at it.  After we got engaged, Joy sat me down and discussed our future at length.  She challenged me to think long term and prepare myself personally and professionally to raise a family.  Up to this point, I really only had to think about myself, and that’s exactly what I did.  In fact, that was precisely the problem – it was all about me, and that’s why I kept hitting dead ends.  At the time of our engagement last July, I had a pretty decent job doing marketing work for a Jesuit retreat center in Cleveland.  I was, however, still treading water and running in place, soon feeling stuck again.  That was when she gave me a little push, urging and encouraging me to get going again on my life and career; and so, with her support, I applied and was accepted for study at BC’s School of Theology and Ministry.  I am now in the first year of a two year Masters Program in Pastoral Ministry, with a lot to learn and much more growing to do.  As Robert Frost wrote, I have “miles to go before I sleep.”  Yet I would not be here in the first place without Joy to help me take that first step, the first step in a journey of 10,000 miles, yet one I can endure with her at my side, loving me and supporting me every step of the way.  

Show Me How to Live

Jesus did not just die for us, but he lived for us.

This thought kept recurring in the broken record of my brain as I was writing a paper on Johann Baptist Metz's "Poverty of Spirit," a neat little book that focuses on the "transcendental neediness" of the human person. While I agree with its core truth - that we are not sufficient unto ourselves, but need something beyond ourselves, whatever name we call it - I noticed a preoccupation with the cross, i.e. the suffering and death of Jesus. This got me thinking about a couple things.

First, I thought about how the cross event is often cast in the light of inevitability, as if it had to happen, as if it were a forgone conclusion. While there is some truth to that, the other side is equally true: that the passion and death of Jesus did not have to happen, but, rather, was a horribly unjust act. He did not just "die for our sins" - he was killed by a political and religious establishment that viewed him to be a dangerous subversive upsetting the social order that served them.  In that sense, he did not have to die, and it was far from just and right that he died.  He did not just die for humanity, but because of humanity.

The second and more pressing thought that came to mind was that putting Jesus' cross and death in the oreground relegates his life and ministry to the background.  In other words, focusing on how he died causes us to miss the lessons to be learned about how he lived.  To paraphrase the song above from Audioslave, Jesus showed us how to live - with courage, love, forgiveness, and trust.  Setting aside the holier-than-thou overtones typical of reflections on the life of Christ, it struck me that Jesus "saved" us not just by his death, but also by his life.

Consider the Gospel stories using Ignatian contemplation (I'm a big fan) with the senses of the imagination, "being there" as Jesus healed the paralytic, cured the lepers, gave sight to the blind, and saved the condemned adulturess from stoning. These and many other "episodes" from Jesus' life teach us how to live "life in full" and be fully human.

So, while there are certainly times to reflect on how Jesus died for us, I'd like to think of how he lived for us, and showed us how to live.  In uncertain times in which I'm dizzied by competing value systems and the ever-spinning hamster wheel of stressed-out American life, I need this Light of the World to illuminate my way more than ever.  It's not just a pious, religious thing, but a human thing.  

Lessons from Jemez

A few of us hanging with our awesome host family, the Shendos.

During this past winter break between the fall and spring terms, I was lucky enough to go on an immersion trip to the Pueblo of Jemez (near Albuquerque, New Mexico) with 14 BC undergrads, another grad student, and BC staff representative.  I was actually a last-minute fill-in, a stunt double, for the faculty adviser from last year's trip, who was unable to make it.  Ah well, his loss was my gain, for it was a memorable trip and outstanding experience I will not soon forget.

Two natural wonders - the NM landscape and I!

How to summarize this trip?  Well, if a picture is worth a thousand words, then this trip was worth a thousand pictures.  You do the math.  Out of respect to the people of Jemez, however, I kept the photos to a minimum.  Because I forgot to bring my journal on the trip, I will also keep the words to a minimum (for me).  What is left is an assortment of imperfect impressions from an eminently impressive experience.

During my meatheaded years of white male adolescence, I was cynically suspicious of diversity programs, closing myself to what I saw as politically correct sentimentality.  As I have gotten older and been blessed with an array of powerful experiences of other cultures, however, that narrow, reductive view has fortunately receded, replaced with an emerging appreciation of cultures that are not mine.  Why diversity?  Quite simply, people from other cultures know many things that I do not, things about how to live, what is important, and where to find meaning. 

Nowhere was this truth clearer to me than in the Pueblo of Jemez.  The place and the people of Jemez are like none other, and they taught me quite a bit about life.  Below are three lessons that, I hope, will stay with me for life:

Our bowling crew - "spare" us the silly faces!

Open-handedness - Never have I met a people as generous and hospitable as the people of Jemez.  They opened their homes to us and fed us wholesome, tasty breakfasts, lunches, and dinners every day.  I especially enjoyed the tortillas, which in my wisdom I called "flatbread," earning me quite a bit of laughter at my expense!  In any case, the table fellowship was wonderful, as our host families truly enjoyed sharing meals with us and letting us into their lives.  My family, the Shendos, were a lot of fun, and they made my experience wonderful.  From top to bottom, they were awesome people: Maria Margarita, Cheryl, Brandon, Kiera, Brianna, and even Keenan (j/k dude!).  And, of course, there was Kevin, the sage director of education on the pueblo and the coordinator of our experience at Jemez.  I loved breaking bread with all these people, and was fed in body and spirit.

Best lunch ever. 

Poise, dignity, and respect -  While the people of Jemez were so generous and open with us, they preferred we did not take photos on the pueblo or pepper them with questions about their culture - though they did answer all we asked.  Instead, they encouraged us to watch, listen, and learn - to take everything in with the senses of the soul wide open.  It reminded me of something I heard once: that we were given two ears but only one mouth for a reason!  The people of Jemez, while quick to laugh and enjoy our company, bore a dignified bearing blending poise, wisdom, and above all respect - respect for elders, respect for the earth, and above all respect for the unique culture that made them who they are.  They knew who they were as a people, were proud of it, and rightfully so.

We put the "hot" in "hot springs!"  (:

Community - Finally, the Pueblo of Jemez impressed me as a tight-knit community where everyone knew each other and had each other's back.  The Pueblo was a small world, and it seemed that everyone was family. If you grew up in the Pueblo, everyone knew whom you were and whom your family members were - over many generations.  What a sense of self this created!  The pervasive simplicity, community and togetherness of the people of Jemez proved a decisive feature of our experience, welcoming us into a family that embraced us as soon as we arrived, and will never let go of our hearts.



In closing this post, I could go on and on about the cool things we saw and did on our trip to Jemez - the starkly beautiful landscape of New Mexico; the good times we had bowling, hiking, and hitting the hot springs;  the long van rides rocking with music from various I-pods; the service experiences on the Pueblo; the group reflections on our day's activities; and of course the Pueblo's annual buffalo dance that exhibited the above lessons in one concentrated, powerful package of sights, sounds, and impressions.  Yet I have already written too many words for the taste of the folks of Jemez, for whom less is more when it comes to verbosity.  I know that Kevin and family will laugh at me, again, for my tendency to flood the world with words!

Suffice it to say that I am grateful to the BC students - especially Justin - for inviting me onto this trip and tolerating my erratic driving; and of course much thanks to the people of Jemez for allowing me into their world and providing a home for me.  They say that prayer, at its best, begins and ends with "thank you," and so I say thank you, thank you, thank you for this experience.