Showing posts with label littleness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label littleness. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Open to Correction Redux

I just had to share this amazing quote from my friend Robert Gotcher's blog, Classic Catholic:
  "Back in the 1940s and '50s and '60s, men believed that the best friends that you could have were the ones who would openly criticize your work and lay bare to you the mistakes and errors that you made, so that you might learn from them and correct them. In today's world, if someone criticizes your work openly, it has become fashionable to hate them for it. That is extremely foolish. You cannot learn from someone who always agrees with you; you can only learn in the fire of disputation and dialectic."  --Douglas Gresham in an interview in Columbia Magazine.

It reminds me a bit of an old blog post I wrote back in 2008, "Open to Criticism", though that one was particularly focused on the subject of criticism from the angle of book reviews.

I strongly believe in the concept of changing the world by changing one's own self. Our culture today, and our human nature in general I suppose, tends to focus on what the other guy is doing wrong. Any critique of myself or my favorite politician (or whatever) is viewed as an attack. I believe that we will never get anywhere good in politics until we hold ourselves and "our side" (whichever side that may be) accountable for our faults and stop making excuses.

I think this is related to part of what makes traditional liberal arts education (such as what my husband and I encountered at Thomas Aquinas College) so valuable - especially in an age where education is so often considered to be equated with a list of information stored in one's head.

In our round-table, seminar-style classes, we learned to take some else's ideas, make sure we understood them, formulate our own opinions about the material, articulate those opinions to others and thus lay them open to challenge and critique. We had to sort out the criticism as objectively as possible in a context that helped us not just respond emotionally to the fact that someone disagreed with us, but work our way through the questions and problems in a reasonably logical manner. The whole program helped us to develop skills that I find myself using on a daily basis in the real world - to fully understand what others are saying and respond in an appropriate, not a reactionary manner.

Here are a few other quotes that seem relevant to this concept:

Most people tend to allow the truth they possess so to dominate their thinking that they see few other truths that place their one truth in perspective and balance it out. There is probably no heresy in the history of the Church that did not have its truth. The problem invariably is that the one truth so took over the heretic's mind that he was committed to cast out any number of other doctrines that clashed with his interpretation of it. (pg. 34, Authenticity by Fr. Thomas Dubay)
 "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." Aristotle
 This last one, again is from Dubay's Authenticity, in which he discusses the word "docility":
The word means, of course, a capacity to learn, to be taught by another. Yet in recent years the idea came upon hard days, for it spoke to many of a passivity, a weakness, a refusal to think for oneself. But then on the scene came a new label: openness, listening. Now openness and listening to others mean nothing if they do not mean exactly what docility means: willingness to be informed, instructed, changed by what another says.
A man in trouble laments that he did not listen to his teachers, and thus he finds himself in a sad state, utter ruin. A candid admission of a blunder is refreshing and not often heard in human affairs. It is the saint alone who is large-minded enough to think and speak in this way. This is part of his authenticity.

The person who is swift to hear and slow to respond is a stranger to an all-knowing illuminism. He believes that others, too, have some truth, and he is willing to be instructed by them. He is ready for the mind of God.
We are to welcome instruction, yes. But this is not enough. We are to welcome correction as well, being told that we are wrong. This is living the virtue of docility.

As the word indicates, docility is the capacity to learn, a willingness to be taught. One is docile when he recognizes his own lack of information and expertise, on the one hand, and the superior knowledge and skills of his teacher, on the other. In this context a synonym more acceptable to modern ears is receptivity.

There are two types of receptivity: one toward the indwelling Spirit and the other toward human teachers. Like other moral virtues, docility lies in a mean between two extremes. One extreme is the more or less arrogant refusal to accept the thoughts of another. The other is an exaggerated credulity that has lost a sense of proper discrimination and healthy criticism.
 I think the virtues of humility and gratitude are also closely related, which, of course reminds me of St. Francis:

...his first reaction was always gratitude. He accustomed himself, in everything that happened in his life, always first and foremost to praise and to give thanks, even before he knows what it is, in fact, that he has received, even before he accepts what he receives, looks at it, and gives it shape. (from Book of All Saints by Adrienne Von Speyr - chapter on St. Francis of Assisi)

Monday, October 06, 2008

God Doesn't Wish us to be Anxious

I recently quoted a part of yesterday's second reading, but thought it was worth returning to the entire passage - which seems so relevant to... well, just about everything. Here's the reading in its entirety (Philippians 4:6-9):
Brothers and Sisters: Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you.
Magnificat Magazine also had this related tidbit in their evening prayer for last night:

Cast all your worries upon [God] because he cares for you. (cf. 1 PT 5:7)

Anxiety focuses our attention on ourselves. Saint Paul proposes that we drive it out by turning to God in prayer "in all things." Then we will be ruled by the peace that frees us to bear good fruit through love for God and our neighbor.
It's so easy to get carried away with worries. Even when no huge crises loom over us (or perhaps especially when no huge crisis looms over us - crises have a way of putting everything into perspective!), we worry about whether we're doing everything we're "supposed" to do for our children and for our families and even for the world. The expectations are often outrageous!

We have to turn to God in simplicity and trust and remember that he doesn't want us to all be cookie-cutter images of some other family that seems to be doing everything perfectly (which is likely an erroneous impression from a distance anyway). What we're supposed to do is keep plugging away, doing the little things with love and continue being there for our children, and not be anxious about appearances.

I've always found it comforting to reflect upon the diversity of the saints. Our modern way of thinking confuses and twists us into, for example, being disappointed if a child isn't able to stand up to the paradigm of what modern society admires in a young person. The modern world admires strength, physical beauty, brains, popularity (not all bad in and of themselves of course). Our faith shows us something else - that God works with human weakness to bring about His beautiful will whenever and wherever we choose to cooperate with Him. I think it's when we start to mistake ourselves for the architects, rather than the workers, of His plans that we fall into anxiety.

Monday, November 19, 2007

The Holy Father on Fear and Trust

Pope Benedict XVI's Angelus address yesterday was on fear and trust. Turns out to be quite nicely related to my post yesterday (I heard this on Relevant Radio this morning)...

"Let us welcome Christ's invitation," he said, "to face daily events trusting in his providential love. Let us not be afraid of the future, even when it appears bleak to us, for the God of Jesus Christ, who took up history to open it up to its transcendent fulfillment, is its alpha and omega, the beginning and the end."

"He guarantees that in every little but genuine act of love the meaning of the whole universe is contained, and those who do not hesitate to lose their lives for him, will find them again in fullness."
Read the entire article on Zenit

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Gratitude, Appreciation, and Making Distinctions

An interesting discussion at Nancy's site brought to mind an idea that I mentioned in the comments to her post and I thought I'd bring up here too. She was discussing problems that end up dividing homeschool groups. My speculation was that we often get mixed up in our heads between what is ideal (or perceived to be ideal) and what is morally necessary.

There are many things which homeschool families (and other families for that matter) decide is good, or even "the best" for their family and implement with enthusiasm. There is certainly nothing wrong with this. Here are a few real-life examples (these may or may not occur in our own family!):

avoid television entirely
have the girls wear skirts to Mass
have the girls wear skirts all the time
eat organic foods
attend Daily Mass
pray the Rosary daily
avoid government run homeschool programs
eat vegetarian
etc.

The problem lies not in making such decisions for our own families, but starting to judge other families who have decided otherwise. There are certainly arguments for and against each idea and some people may choose naively, but this should never be cause for ostracizing them. In fact wouldn't that have the opposite effect of influencing them for the good anyway? These are the sorts of things that can be considered "ideal" by many for various reasons (or - in some cases - even goals to strive towards), but are definitely not "morally necessary". It sure is nice to have the authority of the Church to help us make such distinctions!

For some reason it is often tragedy that puts such things in perspective. Things like this:

A local homeschool family whose young son died in his sleep a few days ago

and this

Cyclone kills over 2,000 in Bangladesh

I sometimes wonder if some of the squabbling comes because we're spoiled. We're spoiled by amazingly good health and low death rates, we're spoiled by a myriad of choices in clothing and educational materials and food and more. But for some reason this tends to lead to fear rather than gratitude and appreciation.

Perhaps because we do have so many choices to make (certainly to the point, at times, of being overwhelmed by decision-making), we start taking ourselves too seriously and feel like it all depends on us.

This Thanksgiving week is a good time to foster gratitude and appreciation in ourselves which, really, is a good antitode to taking ourselves too seriously and neglecting the appreciation we owe to God and the help we owe to those less fortunate than ourselves. (I've also found reading pretty much anything by G.K. Chesterton as a perfect antidote to taking myself too seriously.)

And so, today I am grateful for these things:

-Being able to worship freely, openly and without fear.

-Being able to choose homeschooling for my children.

-For the children God has given me.

-Food, shelter and clothing in abundance.

-Good friends, good books, good movies and many happy times.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

40 Reasons to Have Kids


Giggles
Originally uploaded by Chez VH

I started this awhile back, got distracted with reading through our funny kiddie quotes collection on Studeo and just decided to get back to it...

You've probably seen Karen's and Ana's lists of "40 Reasons to Have Kids" (I think someone since turned it into a meme). I couldn't resist getting in on the fun (and you know how much I love lists!) with my own angle. These are real moments or memories that in some way symbolize for me the joy of being a mom - I know that a part of this for me is the freedom that kids offer in the way of making me comfortable being myself (what kid ever cares if your hair or makeup is done or your socks match?) and provide the freedom of being child-like. I guess I should go beyond that and say that they help remind me of how to look at the world in a fresh, non-jaded way. Which is a good thing!

1. Younger siblings learning from older siblings.

2. The laugh-out-loud comedic aspects of life with kids that you could never have come up with on your own.

3. Their beautiful, and sometimes hilarious, love for and encouragement of each other.

4. Listening to them confuse the English language in exquisitely delightful ways.

5. Once in awhile their confusion rubs off on their parents.

6. Christmas

7. Easter

8. First Communions

9. Baptisms

10. Toddlers trying to talk with their mouth full (especially while nursing!).

11. Theological (and practical) tidbits the little ones share with you during Mass.

12. Parades any time at all.

13. Reading aloud favorite books to them.

14. Having them start to read books aloud to their siblings and listening to them stop and giggle at the funny parts.

15. The enthusiasm and sense of wonder that kids bring to the world.

16. Having them read (and fall in love with) your favorite books.

17. Halloween costumes (though perhaps not the candy-monster after effects).

18. Costumes any time at all.

19. Silly family traditions - like the little song we sing when we cross a state line and holding our hands up when we drive through a tunnel.

20. Skipping through parking lots.

21. Singing in the car.

22. The famous Van Hecke bird show dash at the Wild Animal Park. (LOL)

23. Learning together, even when we sometimes present a bit of a distraction.

24. The joy of solving problems together, despite grief along the way.

25. Cooking with kids (or even letting kids cook).

26. The beginnings of philosophical discussions.

27. Giggles.

28. May crownings

29. The thrill of seeing them overcome tough obstacles.

30. Kids and animals are always an entertaining mix and sometimes very touching too.

31. The wonderful smell of chrism that lingers in a baby's hair for many days after they are baptized.

32. Toothless grins.

33. Sharing sweets with your kids - it divides the calories and is a LOT more fun than eating sweets alone.

34. Newborn sweetness.

35. Sharing the joy of exciting accomplishments.

36. An incredible amount of comfort in times of sorrow.

37. Watching your kids fall in love with a brand new sibling.

38. Playing Mother Duck (I just noticed that I first reconnected with Nutmeg in the comments of this old post!)

39. The crazy things they do that make you suppress laughter even while remaining, ahem, stern on the outside.

40. Road trips to see family and friends - especially COUSINS!

Ah... I think Karen has the definitive list of other lists.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Cardinal Ratzinger on Faith and Hope

from Salt of the Earth again...

To have Christian hope means to know about evil and yet to go to meet the future with confidence. The core of faith rests upon accepting being loved by God, and therefore to believe is to say Yes, not only to him, but to creation, to creatures, above all, to men, to try to see the image of God in each person and thereby to become a lover. That's not easy, but the basic Yes, the conviction that God has created men, that he stands behind them, that they aren't simply negative, gives love a reference point that enables it to ground hope on the basis of faith.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Embracing Truth

from Cardinal Ratzinger's Salt of the Earth...

In the course of my intellectual life I experienced very acutely the problem of whether it isn't actually presumptuous to say that we can know the truth - in the face of all our limitations. I also asked myself to what extent it might not be better to suppress this category. In pursuing this question, however, I was able to observe and also to grasp that relinquishing truth doesn't solve anything but, on the contrary, leads to the tyranny of caprice. In that case, the only thing that can remain is really what we decide on and can replace at will. Man is degraded if he can't know truth, if everything, in the final analysis, is just the product of an individual or collective decision.

In this way it became clear to me how important it is that we don't lose the concept of truth, in spite of the menaces and perils that it doubtless carries with it. It has to remain as a central category. As a demand on us that doesn't give us rights but requires, on the contrary, our humility and our obedience and can lead us to the common path.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Some Rather Challenging Thoughts from Dubay

(still reading through Authenticity)

I know of no saint who lived a personally elegant life-style. Their genuineness shone through their selfless lives, their selfless frugality.
He works a transformation only in those who are transformable. He fills only the empty.
People, he says, are choked with the cares, the wealth and the pleasures of life, and they fail to come to fullness.
Lovers of pleasure may be always learning but they cannot reach the truth and so falsify the faith.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

The Humble are able to Listen and Learn

more from Fr. Dubay...
The humble person is open to being corrected, whereas the arrogant is clearly closed to it. Proud people are supremely confident in their own opinions and insights. No one can admonish them successfully: not a peer, not a local superior, not even the pope himself. They know - and that is the end of the matter. Filled as they are with their own views, the arrogant lack the capacity to see another view.
The humble listen to their brothers and sisters because they assume they have something to learn. They are open to correction, and they become wiser through it.
It is a chilling experience to meet face to face with a person so supremely sure of his inner light and his interpretation of the Bible that he rejects not only what you say but also what exegetes and theologians and saints say.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Speaking of Docility

(in my recent post, "Cardinal Newman and Grammar")

I came across some segments on docility in Fr. Dubay's Authenticity.
The word means, of course, a capacity to learn, to be taught by another. Yet in recent years the idea came upon hard days, for it spoke to many of a passivity, a weakness, a refusal to think for oneself. But then on the scene came a new label: openness, listening. Now openness and listening to others mean nothing if they do not mean exactly what docility means: willingness to be informed, instructed, changed by what another says.
A man in trouble laments that he did not listen to his teachers, and thus he finds himself in a sad state, utter ruin. A candid admission of a blunder is refreshing and not often heard in human affairs. It is the saint alone who is large-minded enough to think and speak in this way. This is part of his authenticity.

The person who is swift to hear and slow to respond is a stranger to an all-knowing illuminism. He believes that others, too, have some truth, and he is willing to be instructed by them. He is ready for the mind of God.
We are to welcome instruction, yes. But this is not enough. We are to welcome correction as well, being told that we are wrong. This is living the virtue of docility.

As the word indicates, docility is the capacity to learn, a willingness to be taught. One is docile when he recognizes his own lack of information and expertise, on the one hand, and the superior knowledge and skills of his teacher, on the other. In this context a synonym more acceptable to modern ears is receptivity.

There are two types of receptivity: one toward the indwelling Spirit and the other toward human teachers. Like other moral virtues, docility lies in a mean between two extremes. One extreme is the more or less arrogant refusal to accept the thoughts of another. The other is an exaggerated credulity that has lost a sense of proper discrimination and healthy criticism.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Cardinal Newman on Learning Grammar

I think this applies to education in general as well (by the way, I may have quoted this before, but I'm not sure and as I stumbled upon it this morning, I thought I'd go ahead and post). This was written in the 1850s. It seems so simple and common sense and yet something which has been to a large extent lost in an educational system/culture that pushes for large quantities of accomplishments over understanding...
And this is the sense of the word "grammar" which our inaccurate student detests, and this is the sense of the word which every sensible tutor will maintain. His maxim is "a little, but well"; that is, really know what you say you know: know what you know and what you do not know; get one thing well before you go on to a second; try to ascertain what your words mean; when you read a sentence, picture it before your mind as a whole, take in the truth or information contained in it, express it in your own words, and, if it be important, commit it to the faithful memory. Again, compare one idea with another; adjust truths and facts; form them into one whole, or notice the obstacles which occur in doing so. This is the way to make progress; this is the way to arrive at results; not to swallow knowledge, but (according to the figure sometimes used) to masticate and digest it. (The Idea of a University, from "Elementary Studies")
I think it's also good for teachers and homeschool parents to have a similar attitude. I've never thought that telling a child "I don't know" to a particular question was harmful in any way - particularly if it is followed up with a willingness to find the answer with your student/child or try to get back to them. This quote also suggests to me the necessity of humility and docility in learning.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Cardinal Ratzinger on Joy

from Salt of the Earth: The Church at the End of the Millennium:

Something I constantly notice is that unembarrassed joy has become rarer. Joy today is increasingly saddled with moral and ideological burdens, so to speak. When someone rejoices, he is afraid of offending against solidarity with the many people who suffer. I don't have any right to rejoice, people think, in a world where there is so much misery, so much injustice.

I can understand that. There is a moral attitude at work here. But this attitude is nonetheless wrong. The loss of joy does not make the world better - and, conversely, refusing joy for the sake of suffering does not help those who suffer. The contrary is true. The world needs people who discover the good, who rejoice in it and thereby derive the impetus and courage to do good. Joy, then, does not break with solidarity. When it is the right kind of joy, when it is not egotistic, when it comes from the perception of the good, then it wants to communicate itself, and it gets passed on. In this connection, it always strikes me that in the poor neighborhoods of, say, South America, one sees many more laughing happy people than among us. Obviously, despite all their misery, they still have the perception of the good to which they cling and in which they can find encouragement and strength.

In this sense we have a new need for that primordial trust which ultimately only faith can give. That the world is basically good, that God is there and is good. That it is good to live and to be a human being. This results, then, in the courage to rejoice, which in turn becomes commitment to making sure that other people, too, can rejoice and receive good news.
This really speaks to me! It also fits in with some other things I've been thinking about lately - particularly about the concept of how we can be a "manifestation of God's Love" to others (ala Deus Caritas Est). This seems to be a particularly crucial role for parents to play in the lives of their children. And it's partly about joy, right?

I've also been thinking and talking with people lately (particularly at our teen discussion group this week, which I haven't had a chance to blog about yet) about the importance of being willing to rejoice in what is good and not just overwhelm ourselves with being critical about all the problems out there. Yes, you have to recognize what is bad, but it takes a certain amount of humility - and littleness - to appreciate the good. In our discussion group we talked about how there are a lot of movies being made today that aren't perfectly good in all their particulars, but that have some REALLY worthy elements - things worth rejoicing about. We also talked about how being able to appreciate these might be good practice for appreciating what is good in others - something that can be built upon.

Friday, April 13, 2007

A Theology of Littleness

cross-posted from Love2learn Blog and The CIN Blog (because I want to have all the "littleness" theme posts available here on Studeo)

Pope Benedict XVI and G.K. Chesterton are two authors whose writings always seem to "feed" me - they're uplifting, encouraging and remind me not to take myself too seriously. I often blog on their writings here, but thought I'd try to share some short passages regularly with Love2learn readers. I'm currently reading Salt of the Earth: The Church at the End of the Millennium, an interview between Cardinal Ratzinger and author Peter Seewald dating from 1996...

Q. "Whoever can be as small as this child", it says in the New Testament in Matthew, "is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

A. The theology of littleness is a basic category of Christianity. After all, the tenor of our faith is that God's distinctive greatness is revealed precisely in powerlessness. That in the long run, the strength of history is precisely in those who love, which is to say, in a strength that, properly speaking, cannot be measured according to categories of power. So in order to show who he is, God consciously revealed himself in the powerlessness of Nazareth and Golgotha. Thus, it is not the one who can destroy the most who is the most powerful...but, on the contrary, the least power of love is already greater than the greatest power of destruction.
And here are a few related excerpts from G.K. Chesterton's The Everlasting Man...more aimed at the Christmas story, but certainly very pertinent to Easter week...

A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox; that the hands that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle. Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, all the literature of our faith is founded...

I mean that all the eyes of wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing were now turned inward to the smallest...

It is true that the spiritual spiral henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is centripical and not centrifugal. The faith becomes, in more ways than one, a religion of little things.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Fr. Thomas Dubay on Age Quod Agis

I just stumbled upon this quote this morning...
Little children live intensely in the present moment, neither in the past nor in the future. As the French writer La Bruyre once put it, ‘Children have neither past nor future, but they have something we seldom have—they rejoice in the present.’

This is the child-like trait which the New Testament would have us imitate. Age quod agis—literally, ‘do what you are doing’…The future does not yet exist and the past is gone forever. What we have is the present moment. By it we are fashioning our eternity.… Fr. Thomas Dubay, SM, LIVING FAITH, Sept. 30, 2002
I found the quote here. Click here to read my old posts (and links to others' posts) on this topic.

It's kind of funny to find this quote by Fr. Dubay, because I think I first mentioned this old Latin motto in a post about one of Fr. Dubay's books - but only because it reminded me of the motto, which I found in another book by a different author. It's neat that Fr. Dubay also appreciated this phrase; this quote is the nicest elucidation of the concept that I've come across.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Littleness and the Little Way

The topic of littleness has come up in numerous places for me in the last few weeks. A few days ago I actually wrote out a list of the places the idea kept coming up in. Now on the feast of St. Therese, I thought I'd try to pull all these tidbits together. Since we went to Mass at our local Carmelite Monastery today, we also heard special readings appropriate to the feast - including the Gospel from Matthew 18:3 -
"Truly I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."
Anyway, here are some of the pieces from the list I made (in the order I happened to come across them):
"Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt. 18:3-4). This saying is a particularly compact expression of a whole theology of littleness, of the little ones, and of childhood that we find in Jesus. It ultimately has - like this entire series of words - a christological content pointing to the inner biography of Jesus himself. It is Jesus who became totally small (Gospel, Catechesis, Catechism by Cardinal Ratzinger)
The rest of the quotes (all that I have time for tonight - I've been dragging this post out all day) is from The Everlasting Man (the chapter on "The God in the Cave") in which Chesterton is discussing Bethlehem and the Incarnation...
A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox that the hands that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle. Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, all the literature of our faith is founded. (pg. 202)
Any agnostic or atheist whose childhood has known a real Christmas has ever afterwards, whether he likes it or not, an association in his mind between two ideas that most of mankind must regard as remote from each other; the idea of a baby and the idea of unknown strength that sustains the stars. (pg. 203)
It might be suggested, in a somewhat violent image, that nothing had happened in that fold or crack in the great grey hills except that the whole universe had been turned inside out. I mean that all the eyes of wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing were now turned inward to the smallest. (pg. 205)

it is true in a sense that God who had been only a circumference was seen as a centre; and a centre is infinitely small. It is true that the spiritual spiral henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is centripical and not centrifugal. The faith becomes, in more ways than one, a religion of little things. (pg. 205)