Optimism, Pessimism, Hope

It dawned on me a couple weeks ago: I read articles by Fr. Robert Barron before he was cool! I was reading excerpts from "And Now I See" before the Catholicism series came out, probably before he was on Twitter, and definitely before he became the official spokesperson for Pope Benedict XVI's third Jesus of Nazareth book. This wasn't because I'm exceptionally fantastic, myself; it was all thanks to a fabulous catechetics professor I had in college. Thank you, Professor Pauley (and thank you, Franciscan University)! Woohoo! #coolnessbyassociation

But now that Fr. Barron is a more well-known name on the parish level (definitely a good thing!), I hear about him off and on. Yesterday, it took the form of a parking lot conversation after our youth ministry finished caroling at a nursing home. Dude, believe me: if nothing else, I am an expert in parking lot conversations. I'm not truly at home with someone unless I can talk with them for hours in the cold/snow/heat/dark. You know how when you were a little kid, sometimes after church/at the grocery store/while picking you up from Scouts, your parents chatted with their grown-up friends forever, and you felt like you'll never go home? Now I am that grown-up (minus the little child tugging at my coat).

So one person brings up a talk by Fr. Barron about optimism, pessimism, and hope. Usually, in this particular group, we're all on track with each other. But this time, controversy! Definitions being demanded! Dictionaries being threatened! Frowns and dismay! Okay, it wasn't really that serious... we were all still friendly. But this was the issue: apparently Fr. Barron said that pessimism is better than optimism, because it's more realistic. Now mind you, one of the people in our little parking-lot-conversation-circle is probably one of the most joyful, bubbly, happy people the world has ever known. Really. And I'm not really the gloom-and-doom type either, you know. So of course, we demanded an explanation.

Tonight, I looked up this homily, and found that the explanation we got was pretty accurate to what Fr. Barron said. I'll let you listen for yourself, if you'd like. Basically, the idea is that optimists are ignoring reality, because everything isn't fine - we live in a fallen world. Pessimists are much more realistic, due to the brokenness and sin around us. We cannot hope in the present world - the only way we will ever be totally fulfilled, the only way everything will be completely fine, is in eternity.

I understand what Father is saying. Of course things aren't perfect here, and they won't be until heaven! Of course! I totally agree! I don't think that Fr. Barron is advocating escapism, where we avoid the world altogether. And I don't think he's advocating a gloom-and-doom reality, where we view life as a drudgery (although when he brought up Sartre, I was tempted to think so. I had to read him in college, and I hated it! No Exit was one of the most depressing reads ever. Blech. But at least it's interesting to compare and contrast with C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce! And now I'm just rambling in parentheses).

Yet, I think he might come across that way, if you're not listening carefully. I suggest that we throw out the terms "optimist" and "pessimist" in this talk, since they already come with so many pre-conceived definitions. Instead, let's just focus on the concepts - that instead of pretending evil doesn't exist, we should look realistically at the world. But we shouldn't lose hope! God can bring good out of evil, and we have a perfect, beautiful eternity with him to look forward to! So far, I'm totally on board.

(Side note: dude, sometimes I think that half of coming to terms with theology is working through the language that different theologians use. Specific, precise definitions for all words, and ya gotta know how those definitions differ from common usage. So for Fr. Barron to hone in on a certain definition of "optimism" and "pessimism," which isn't the exact way that most of us mean it, I shouldn't be surprised. It's just what they do. I think it's the same thing with philosophy... but I don't know enough about it to go there.)

But maybe the part that rubs me wrong is the impression I got from listening to him, which is that we can have no hope in this world. Even Pope Benedict, in the encyclical that Fr. Barron quoted, said:

"Let us say once again: we need the greater and lesser hopes that keep us going day by day. But these are not enough without the great hope, which must surpass everything else. This great hope can only be God, who encompasses the whole of reality and who can bestow upon us what we, by ourselves, cannot attain." -Spe Salvi

Gotta love a good Catholic "both-and." Little "h" hopes, if you will, in the day-to-day world. And big "H" Hope, for eternity. Not one or the other... both are important! But, bottom line: if the little "h" hope fails, we'll still turn out okay in the end, because we've got big "H" Hope.

(Another side note: if you were here with me as I'm writing this, you'd totally know that I'm phlegmatic in temperament. I keep wanting to include caveats: "But I really do love Fr. Barron! I think he's great! I'm sure he didn't mean what I think he's saying!" It's a struggle, but I decided that he'll be okay, that you won't assume I'm trying to martyr him, and that I'm allowed to think. Phlegmatic victory!)

With all this pessimism/optimism talk on my brain, it really stuck out to me in the Scriptures today. The first reading was from Isaiah 7, so I wanted to read the whole chapter to get the context. These two lines jumped off the page at me:

"If you will not believe,

surely you shall not be established."

-Isaiah 7:9b 

Which, of course, reminded me of tomorrow's Gospel reading:

"Blessed are you who believed 

that what was spoken to you by the Lord

would be fulfilled."

-Luke 1:45

  

God works in time. This Old Testament attack that Isaiah is referring to, as well as the angel appearing to Mary, were events in human history. They happened here, not in eternity. I think that is why I am so hesitant to say that we only can have hope for heaven... because God is working right now, too.

(Maybe I'm mixing up my definitions of hope and faith?? Papa B goes over that in the encyclical I quoted above, if you want to dig into that more. If I remember correctly, he intertwines them very closely.)

At any rate, I have many more thoughts swirling in my head about this, but hey, it's not a dissertation. I encourage you to devour anything that Fr. Barron puts out, because his stuff is phenomenal - I just wanted to spend some time doing a bit more thinking on this one topic. (I particularly recommend his series about the deadly sins and their corresponding virtues!)

And now I'm rambling... time to see if my laundry is done, and then go to bed! God bless you all - take heart, have hope, trust in the Lord!

 

I Thirst

Today I had a realization, the answer to a question I’ve been asking for months, maybe even the past year and a half. Or at least part of an answer… you may not be impressed, but I don’t particularly care, because God is so good to me and he answers my prayers! On the other hand, maybe it will help you too.

If you’ve asked me about my spiritual life recently (again, maybe even within the last year and a half), I’ve probably mentioned that it’s dry. Like, that's the overarching, raincloud-over-my-head, depressing theme. This is to be somewhat expected, coming out of a fantastic place like Franciscan University. I mean, I go from three Masses a day to 7am only (and I am not a morning person)… from a tight-knit, passionately Catholic young adult community to a parish that is nice, but certainly not as passionate, and quite lacking in young adults… from being continuously formed and supported, to leading others, to being the one who does a lot of the forming and supporting... from a place that fosters holiness to a place where you have to put up much more of a fight. You get the idea. 

I’ve also blamed myself a lot for my spiritual state, and I’m sure there is a lot to that: to my own sins, failings, laziness, pride, lack of motivation, and more. I am always cut to the heart when I read these words:

“Moreover, you have endurance and have suffered for my name, and you have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first. Realize how far you have fallen.” –Revelation 2:3-5

Ouch. But it’s a good heart check, for sure. Jesus, keep me in love with you.

My realization of today builds upon this experience of dryness and struggle, plus another realization from the other day. I was looking through old journals, particularly those I’ve written since Franciscan, and I noticed something. As I read, it didn’t seem like I had a spiritually dry life at all! Of course there were ups and downs, but nothing out of the ordinary. I had written down oodles and oodles of quotes from Scripture and the saints that God had used to speak to me; I thanked him over and over for the people in my life and the experiences he has given me; it was clear that he gave me just what I needed each day, when I needed it, as long as I slowed down long enough to recognize it! Yet, my overwhelming experience has been dryness. At that point, I was just confused. I also wondered if I was a whiny little brat, saying “God, you don’t talk to me!!” when clearly, he does. This could totally be true… but today, I got another answer.

Let's start with a basic spiritual premise: we all thirst for God! There’s the classic St. Augustine quote, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” Without God, we are not satisfied… we can never be satisfied without our Maker, our Lover (cue the “God-shaped hole in our hearts” explanation here). Without the one who gave us life, we have no life! So of course we feel dead without him. We thirst for him (the incredible thing is that he also thirsts for us – see John 19:28, as well as the reflections of Bl. Mother Teresa – but that is another story altogether). 

What I realized today goes something like this: without water, we thirst, and eventually, we die. But do we need to drink water more than once? Of course! Just because I have a drink of water yesterday doesn’t mean that I won’t be thirsty again today – that would be ridiculous! 

This is how it works with God, too. If I experience him yesterday, I still need him today! I don’t just want the memory of him, or knowledge about him… I want his presence now, too. Whenever I’m not close to God, I’m thirsty, to the point of pain (how clearly I can diagnose this pain, or how much I try to numb it away with other things, is a different story for another day). And whenever I am with him, I want to go deeper. We can never get enough of God.

And I think this is why I feel like my life, overall, has been so dry. Because if I’m not tasting the sweetness of God at this very moment, this exact second in time, I am thirsty for it. And we can’t always feel God – not in this life, anyway. 

How does this work with Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman at the well, that “whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14)? To be honest, I don’t know. I think it may have something to do with being temporal beings. We haven't made it to eternity yet!

Maybe therein lies the key. Until that day of perfect bliss, of being totally united with Christ, I’m going to continue to feel the separation keenly. I want to see the face of God, but I can't yet! My spiritual life isn't a total wasteland, as I've thought; I'm just not in heaven yet.

St. John of the Cross, St. Therese of Lisieux, Bl. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us.

“For I've been here before
But I know there's still more”