Foundations

13th Street Beach, Avalon NJ

December 2009

Last night I joined about a third of my community to watch a new award-winning French film, "Of Gods and Men," which portrays the true story of a community of Trappist monks in a poor Algerian village in the 1990s. Against the backdrop of clashes between the government and terrorists, and increasingly serious threats to their safety, the monks must consider whether to flee or remain. As the movie progressed and the depth of the monks' situation became more poignant, I felt the same sort of commitment and devotion with which the monks strove to preserve their faith, support one another, and face their situation with trust and integrity. Gradually, it seemed to me, there emerged a perceptible resonance between the film and our own life as a Jesuit community... hard to put into words, but a foundation that I can trust, a relationship that is genuine, a network of bonds that happily joins me to a great family that spans the world.

That stability and confidence have been elusive in my work as a middle school teacher, in large part because my tendency to harsh self-criticism, as well as my reluctance to seek advice or guidance from my colleagues, has caused me to feel isolated. The daily encounters between my ordered preparations and the abundant yet sometimes unfocused energy of my students, between my high (and likely somewhat unrealistic) expectations and the students' actual capabilities, often leave me feeling that my efforts have fallen short, my instruction has been inadequate, and my personality incommensurate with that of my students. Alone in my reflections, breezes of misgiving freshen into winds of doubt and disappointment, pushing to dislodge me from my already shaky footing.

The contrast between these two attitudes, one of joy and security, the other of anxiety and uncertainty, has been troubling me for some time. Despite growing accustomed to the rhythm of bracing myself a work environment in which I feel more shortcoming than success, then returning home to a community in which I thrive and to relationships of fraternity and friendship in which I am authentic and animated, the regular transit between these two poles of affect and emotion is not one that I feel willing or able to sustain.

The readings today, particularly the Gospel passage (Matthew 7:21-27), with its image of a house built upon rock and another built upon sand, invited me to reflect on the areas of solidity, and also instability, in my life. It also urged me to affirm that I can only live on one foundation; thankfully, it's pretty clear which of the two I want to build upon. As Lent approaches, the snow retreats, and a time of renewal and regrowth nears, the next steps of my spiritual journey beckon, and I'm eager to keep on walking.

Tower Grove Park, St. Louis MO

Winter 2009