Category Archives: Catholic

Quitter’s Day – part 1

On New Year’s Day morning, Fr. Mike noted in his homily to those of us at early Mass that the second Friday in January is known as “Quitter’s Day,” because by then 80% of people would have quit their New Year’s Resolutions.

Perhaps you find yourself in the 80%. If so, may I suggest considering one or more short experiments – trying on a change, for a week or two – and assessing its usefulness for you. These are simple but not easy.

If making such changes were “easy,” we’d be a country overflowing with clear-thinking, peaceful, energetic, well-rested and generous-hearted people. Based on my 15-minute daily ration of news, that seems to not quite be the case.

Starting with the most basic – the marker of life at birth – breathing, which turns out to be something that we so easily can get wrong. If you are in good health and your medical provider doesn’t object, you might experiment with a practice of better breathing. This can be as simple as practicing slow, deep breathing for a few moments three times a day and then as needed when you want to calm yourself.  Breathe comfortably, slowly and deeply, so that the belly expands, rather than a quick, panting breath. Breathing out through the nose can help. “Slow” doesn’t mean make yourself dizzy or lightheaded; it means comfortable and relaxed. This kind of breathing impacts the nervous system in the abdomen and signals the brain to slow down its fight-or-flight, anxious mode.

It’s an experiment that you might try early in the morning, again when you shift gears between day and evening, and at bedtime.  You can find plenty of tutorials online with demos on relaxation breathing. If you have any medical conditions, of course, be sure that this is safe for you by consulting your healthcare provider.

Some people find this very useful as part of changing between activities, such as stopping work for lunch or at day’s end; before a stressful activity such as a presentation or dealing with a negative person; and when preparing for rest at night.

Thanks for reading!

Believe that there is more to you

It is a sad and common theme.

A person is struggling: with an addiction, or obsessions and compulsions, or moral injury, or the impact of trauma, and has come to a place where the sense of self has been entirely subsumed by the problem and its pain.

The definition of self becomes “the addiction,” or “the monster who did (whatever has led to moral injury)” or “the mental disorder diagnosis.”

And, of course, as a therapist, I believe it is critical to address mental health troubles with the best of the science we have, with the particular approaches suited, as discerned ongoing, with the specific needs of that client.

But I also believe that a parallel need is extant and urgent: the need for this person, who is suffering, to come back to an awareness of self as a deeply beloved child of God. Not generically loved, like we may say that we “love” some food or activity or type of animal – but particular, personal, and intense.  Women who, like me, have been blessed to give birth will recall that wild wave of emotion that engulfs us when we meet that little person face-to-face after the peculiar intimacy of pregnancy. It makes us irrationally jealous of everyone and anyone; what mother doesn’t remember resenting the nurses and physicians who separated us from the baby long enough to do the general assessments and necessary care? Well, that is a reflection God’s love for each person.

If a person who is suffering is willing to enter into, and do, the hard work of therapy, which will include lifestyle changes and “homework,” and also becomes open to reconsidering his or her existence as a deeply loved person, someone who is more than the addiction, or bad choices, or terrifying memories, or intrusive thoughts and painful compulsions, then true and deep healing can happen.  This is what I would wish for every person struggling with emotional wounds.

Why am I still here?

“Why am I still here?”

I hear that a lot. Perhaps you do, too.  The veteran who survived a firefight that took his friends; the person who woke up in the hospital to find they were the only survivor of a car crash that took their family; a survivor of a natural disaster that took many lives.  Many adults, perhaps most, have had such an existential episode. I’ve been in car accidents that could have killed me; survived acts of violence that could just as easily have tipped over into lethality, lived through serious illness. None of those are particularly unusual, and only mentioned to underscore the point.

“What do I live for now? What ought I be doing?”

That’s a tough one, yet it is the question every believer is tasked with as the subtext of life every day.  There is some chatter among the media that presuming that one’s survival is in God’s hands is some sort of unusual perspective. It is not my intention to speculate on any particular person’s interpretation of what that means. For those who find it perplexing, I hope to offer at least this Christian’s perspective. God never wants evil; it takes our free will for that to happen. Many of us wrestle with trying to figure out why God allows bad things to happen. Allowing something is not the same as wanting something, that’s for sure; every parent has to learn that lesson, fairly early on.

You may want your toddler to go to sleep. You may want that very, very, very eyes-burning-with-exhaustion much. But you have to allow the reality that the toddler will keep on singing songs, or whining, or coming out to complain. (If you do anything to “make” a child sleep, whatever adult is aware of it is required to report that to child protective services). C.S. Lewis does a much better job of explaining this particular point.  God, of course, chooses to allow or not. I’m not going to understand why because I am not God. God creates everything and I can do not a thing, even catch a breath, unless God wills it.

Our job is to figure out what God wants from us in each emerging situation, whether the situation itself was His will or not. For believers, every breath is a gift; there is no guarantee of another. Pondering what we are to do with these circumstances and assuming God has a preference in terms of our choice of action is not a big stretch.

So, for a Christian, God did not want Corey Comperatore to die in gunfire, protecting his family. It was not God’s will for the gunman to shoot. Mr. Comperatore clearly discerned his purpose was to protect at all costs. He had, apparently, discerned this over and over until his reflex towards self-sacrifice looked “automatic.” That seems to be a sign that his formation into the nature of Jesus Christ, the nature of complete self-giving, was something he had truly embraced.

And now, everyone left behind must discern what God asks of them in this new, tragic circumstance. Over the course of years and months, his family will each have to discern how to restructure life and find a different path forward. Friends and neighbors will need to discern, ongoing, how to provide friendship and support when the months pass and the spotlight of media attention fades.

The question doesn’t necessitate a tragedy, such as an accident, tornado or an attempted assassination. It is a perennial question: every person mourning infertility, every widow, widower, and bereaved parent.  Adolescents are supposed to wrestle with it; the elderly are, too. And all along the way, it is the question every thinking person ponders when transitioning to a new stage of life. We ask it at those times, too, that are both joyful and sad; a child grows up and successfully leaves the nest: mission accomplished; but what is my purpose now? Retirement comes; well, then what? What is your purpose now, beyond a vague sense of perpetual recess?

Being Christian means striving to be conformed to the nature of Jesus Christ. That means seeking not just to avoid being “bad” but attempting to do God’s will in every situation.  Is it “bad” to spend an entire lazy weekend afternoon with a pot of tea, a good book and a handful of chocolate? Especially on the Sabbath? No, lemon ginger tea and Lady Gregory’s book of Irish folklore, edited by W.B. Yeats, don’t make the list of “do-nots,” but the entire afternoon? When a friend needs a caring ear or a letter? When a nagging thought keeps intruding with that starts with, “I really need to reach out to…” maybe the “not a bad thing” needs to step aside and yield to the “better thing,” a “because” for the moment.

And, when you’re wrestling with the big questions of life, the little “becauses” become a path through the dark places.

To Ink or Not to Ink

To ink or not to ink: that is the question.

Not my question, but a lot of people debate this. Perhaps they are considering the latest news: the research showing a significant increase in the risk of blood cancers with just one tattoo. That seems worth attention.

Sometimes, people planning a tattoo want to talk about it, the image and the expected arguments from friends or family. We might discuss the option of wearing a piece of jewelry with the same design for a year straight – no exceptions – or the benefit of a trial run with temporary tattoos for a few months.  Perhaps pulling out a particularly unflattering photo, with a hairstyle and clothing you thought looked great at the time, and facing it every day for a year or so would provide a tap to the brakes. Most often in these conversations, I simply listen, ask a lot of questions, and offer my personal explanation as to “why not.” There are three significant reasons.

On my phone, I have a photo of memorial bricks that rest in Europe, with the names and deportation dates of family members who died in Auschwitz in 1944.  They would have been tattooed by the Nazis, each with a unique number, for the obsessive record-keeping for which the Third Reich was known. Out of respect to their memories, no ink.

I can’t think of any sort of decoration I wouldn’t tire of, sooner, probably, rather than later. A look at my hair and fashion choices in old photos makes that spectacularly clear. Due to the likelihood that I will someday find my décor of the day regrettable, no ink.

Finally, the two most significant factors in my life, my faith and my marriage, are too important to me for tattoos. Both deserve a deliberate, mindful choice – every day, every moment. The crucifix I wear is by choice, never mindlessly or without reverence for its meaning and the demand placed upon me, however poorly I may live out that demand. The wedding ring is deliberate, a clear statement of, I love you, I choose you, each day. Never indifferent, never nonchalant: to wear these things is a daily action verb.

Now, those reasons may make no sense to you. Maybe they seem silly or irrelevant to your situation. Perhaps they do; but perhaps they are worth a conversation with someone as you, or they, make decisions about permanent records of this particular spot in place and time.  

Social Contagion

(This post mentions eating disorders, self-harm, substance abuse and suicide. Please reach out to your local emergency services if you or someone you know is struggling with any of these!)

When I was in 9th grade, I unwillingly, and briefly, attended our parish’s very small Catholic Youth Organization meetings (CYO.  The group comprised mostly boys, all altar servers, who played ping pong and pool with our associate pastor, a well-meaning middle-aged priest from Poland. The only other girls were the type of enmeshed best friends that are normal at that stage of life. Their shared passion was Bay City Rollers. They put together, in that era of typewriters with ribbons and no internet, a monthly fan newsletter with some success.  Life would have been oh, so easy, if only I could have mustered enthusiasm for the boys from Edinburgh.  I tried. But, despite the social costs, a Dylan fan I remained.

Go ahead, laugh. But you have faced the challenge of social contagion, too. You may even now be wearing a style of clothing you don’t actually even like. It’s just what’s “in.” As a teenager, you wore the right clothes, or pined after them; you strove for the right hair style. You wore the trendy colors even if they made you look ill, and were anxious for the approval of your peers.  It’s not just kids who follow the crowd; every married person knows that when your spouse’s friend circle comprises mostly divorced people, there may well be trouble ahead.

Over the years, we’ve seen waves of societal concern about the risks of contagion. Were young people teaching each other to cut or burn themselves (1990s), how to purge or starve themselves (ongoing since at least the 90s), how to get a so-called “high” from household items? Could a teen’s suicide lead to copycat attempts?  The answer to all of these is, yes.

Children now are not gifted with preternaturally adult-style brain development. The ability to sound sophisticated by parroting what you’ve read or heard is not the same as an adult brain with a well-developed executive function – something that takes into the early to mid-20s to acquire.  Your kid is not any more resistant to peer pressures of even the subtle type than you were when you were screaming in excitement over a band because all your friends were.  As it happens, they are more vulnerable, because peer pressure can surround them wherever their cell phone works. Odds are, you were free – as soon as you were off the school bus, there was some space for other influences to counterbalance the noise of adolescents striving to show their individuality by being as much like their desired group as possible.

Notice the vagaries of the teenage years: they move from music star to music star, aesthetic nomads in lockstep. No one wears jeans; then they all wear jeans. The games, the accessories, even the car you drive falls under the anxious eye of a child who wants to fit in.  It’s important for all of us to be attuned to the various social pressures to conform, because we want our young people to survive, and thrive, throughout these very turbulent times.

Christmas all year ’round

‘Tis the season.  My Christmas tree is still up – it is, after all, still Christmas time. This is not a diatribe about people who tear down Christmas before the turkey or ham is cold; I understand that for many people, this holiday season was terrible, a time when loss was rubbed into their face. For them, simply going through the motions of the holiday was an act of profound and sustained moral courage.

No, I am reflecting on the reminders of Christmas that will be up in my home all year.  This is not new, and not unique. It reflects the profound Incarnation, and the love and hope that flow from that.  The little clay Holy Family we bought in San Antonio sits on a shelf beside the front door: it is more than a souvenir and more than the gratification of seeing Jesus, Mary and Joseph with skin closer to Semitic tan than impossibly pale, northwestern European.  It is, most of all, a reminder that the Eternal Word who “When He fixed the foundations of the earth, I was beside Him as artisan; I was His delight day by day, playing before Him all the while, playing over the whole of His earth, and having delight with human beings,” (Proverbs 8:29-31) came among us in, reminding of us the dignity of life even in that humility and weakness.

And as the year rolls on, and the oppressiveness of world events bears down on us, we need a star. Without remembering, deliberately and meditatively, the implications of the inexplicable event we celebrate at Christmas, the darkness can seem to be winning, and yet, “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John, 1:5). Looking at the news, it seems unlikely that things are apt to improve out there anytime soon. And so, as always, I am prepared for the annual summer revival, stirring afresh the wonder of the Incarnation. Sometime in July, when the heat of summer seems to have made the world even angrier, a hidden bag of peppermint bark will emerge, and Christmas music will be played, loudly, in defiance of what seems to be ever-growing darkness.

It is particular Christmas music: starting, necessarily, with Mannheim Steamroller’s “Deck the Halls.” If you know the performance, you understand. If not, it bears some explanation. This is no “ho, ho, ho” or “jingle those bells” type of “Deck the Halls.” It is the tune as it is meant to be played: the triumphant preparation for the arrival of the King, a blast of victorious celebration. It could be the sound of the creatures of Narnia preparing for Aslan’s conquering return. It is a song that, when Steamroller opens with it, has the crowd standing and cheering – to the apparent amazement of the musicians.

If it sounds as if it could be helpful, this summer, when the city streets are on fire and the news cycle is bleak, have a bit of Incarnational reawakening. Leave a reminder of Christmas out all year.  Play some music to stir your soul, and remember that, “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” (John 1:14).

What’s up with that?

Why do you do what you do?

No, seriously. Why do you do what you do, whatever it is that you do?

Could you get a bit obsessive about this question? I suppose so. But it is worth asking, over and over again.

You got out of bed at whatever time it was. Why? For what purpose?

Why did you eat and drink what you ate and drank? Or, why did you choose not to eat?

What did you put on your body to wear out into the world, to tell other people about you, your tastes, and your intentions?  Why those messages, and not some other messages? Why are those the messages you choose to give to the world?

Why did you go to work? Why did you choose that work?

Why did you behave that way, and not some other way, towards whatever persons you encountered along the way?

Why, why, why, why.  Sometimes it is important to take a step back and ask that defense-raising question of yourself, repeatedly, digging in.

Well, why, you might ask, and it is a worthwhile question.  Asking ourselves “why” is very important, because, if we drill down far enough, we come down to whether or not we have decided upon a central principle, a guiding ethic, a core belief that allows us to direct our behavior with cohesion and authenticity towards our purpose.  If you don’t have a “why,” you are less focused than the average toddler. A toddler can be remarkably determined in pursuing her goals, despite an inability to clearly articulate the “why” for coloring on the walls or giving Teddy Bear a bath in the toilet. 

For religious people, the central “why” comes down to a covenantal relationship with the Lord and, for Christians, a relationship with Jesus, the Christ.  That is the “why.”

Why get out of bed on time? Because an orderly life (ordered to what is best) requires self-discipline and routine, and honoring one’s legitimate commitments to others.

Why be kind to the barista, the cashier, the slowly shambling person in front of you on the sidewalk? Because they, like you, are a child of God and your rooted relationship with Him requires you to treat others as His children, too.

Why be honest with someone when you know it will be ill-received – the student whose work is apparently plagiarized, the employer asking you to do the unethical, the adult family member who is drinking in excess? Because it is important to be truthful, to not allow dishonesty to muddy the waters of relationships and to let yourself slip into that mud out of fear of conflict. Because your relationship with the Lord requires you to act honestly, justly, and with love.

Wishing you a new year full of the joy of discovering beautiful “why’s” in your life!

When God Speaks

“It just seems awful convenient that whenever my dad prays, it turns out God tells him to do whatever he wanted to do in the first place.”  The teenager was slouched, watching me sidelong through floppy bangs, waiting to see how I, the Christian counselor, would respond to his cynical appraisal of his father’s approach to prayer.  I nodded slowly and asked for examples…examples that seemed, I thought to myself, to at least support the child’s misgivings about prayer in particular, and religion in general.

My experience is that, more often than not, what I experience as God suggesting a course of action is precisely what I do not want to do.  Whether this is because I am by nature and habit a worse person than this boy’s father or I am more honest about not liking to do some things, I cannot know.

If you are not a person of religious faith, no doubt this all sounds pretty crazy.  Perhaps you suspect that Christians are hallucinating, or pretending to do so, in order to fit in with the group.  Who know; perhaps that happens.  What a non-believer may not know is that when Christians talk about discerning a message from God, we are likely talking about one or more of these experiences:

  1. The thought that pops up, unexpected and persistent.  For example, I had the thought pop up to call someone with whom I hadn’t spoken in a year or two. The thought nagged at me. “I really should call ‘Beth.’”  It turned out that ‘Beth’ had just had a death in the family, and other trials, and needed some friendly encouragement.  A non-believer thinks of that as a coincidence; a believer attributes it to God’s Spirit at work in and among us.
  2. The events of our lives: the series of experiences that are, perhaps, unexpected and beckon us to pay attention to a pattern. Perhaps we have been ignoring that pattern; perhaps the busy-ness of our lives has fogged our attention. This might also include
  3. The people around us; their words and actions may plant seeds. They might speak truth to us, including truth we don’t like, such as confronting us on a bad habit or poor choices.
  4. God’s Word: Scripture speaks across the centuries. For example, consider how quick many biblical persons were to rebel and give up when the going got tough – despite all the good they had experienced. How different are we, and what could we draw out of these examples to be more persistent in times of trouble?
  5. Through beauty:  nature, art and music, literature.

There are others, of course, but these are perhaps the most common. I have known two people who claimed to have heard a booming voice speak to them, but mostly, when people talk about messages from God, it comprises one or more of the above categories. They do their daily scripture reading, and then encounter a similar message in a song, or a news story. A friend shares an experience that echoes that theme, and a thought pops in, unbidden and somewhat surprising, “Perhaps I should…” or, “I really need to…”

If you are a non-believer, you might attribute all this to coincidence, or some vague power in the universe. A matter of quantum physics, you might shrug, imagining a little particle in “Beth’s” brain synchronizing across the miles with its partner in mine. It seems that the most elemental grasp of what is suggested by quantum physics should quell any urge towards atheism.

Anyhow…that’s a mini-explanation of what believers often mean when we talk about hearing from God. I hope that clears up any silliness about mass psychosis.  As my young client noted, it might be discernment, and it might be a convenient little personal excuse; that is inevitably our human nature.  We see what we want to see, except when we unexpectedly encounter a mirror. But that is a story for another day.

A Fool in the Slow Lane

One of the common criticisms I hear from people who are skeptical about religion is that so many religious people say one thing and do another. To which I respond, well, yeah. You’re correct, and don’t we know it. It’s right there in our Scriptures – the Scriptures overflow with it, including one of our most famous saints bemoaning to an entire city of Christians that he can’t quite get himself in line (St. Paul, in Romans Ch. 7).  It turns out that goodness is a work in progress. So, the question isn’t whether people are imperfect, it’s whether or not they seem to be making a good effort at being better than their nature might call them to be.  

In a sense, we’re like automobiles.  Except we’re not very good automobiles; most of us need to be in the shop, so to speak, day after day. Something is always going wrong. A tweak there, an adjustment there.  Driving all day and keeping an eye on the dashboard: what trouble light will pop up next?  Yep, there’s something; what can it mean? We pull over, often, to check things and scratch our heads in bewilderment; now what?  Then there’s a smooth stretch without any bumps and we unconsciously speed up, no longer paying close enough attention, until something dings or squeaks or clanks. Then it’s time to spend time in the shop, so to speak, and our Mechanic sets things right and, kindly and perhaps with a bit of a twinkle, reminds us that regular maintenance could keep this sort of thing from happening.  We bow our heads, determined to do better.

Off we go – we’re supposed to be paying attention to the road signs, the weather, the conditions in general. We have directions and we’re supposed to check them frequently.  If things go okay for just a bit, we breathe a prayer of thanksgiving.  So here we are, we “religious” people; we drive along through life, trying to keep it together and stay on track – and to the person zipping past us in the fast lane, who feels sure of where they’re going, we look like bumbling idiots.  

And, if we’re doing this right, we know that we are, at best, God’s fools, full of good intentions, accidental mistakes and self-absorbed carelessness, just trying to stay on the right road.

Prodigal and in your face

The holy days of fall and winter have begun, with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur behind us and Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Advent and the Christmas holidays closing in fast. The stores overflow with all things green, red and peppermint. This means that one of the dreaded markers of the season is also upon us. You might be thinking about the price of turkeys, or heating bills, or navigating the dynamics of family and politics, but I am thinking in particular of the seasonal outbreak of atheism and related forms of cynicism among adolescents and young adults. Except for the power to disrupt other people’s good times, I’m not sure why so many families experience the angry outburst, arrogant smirks or sullen refusal to participate in the traditional prayers and rituals of life just when it is most likely to hurt.  Other than the week of Passover and Easter, there is no time more likely to cause suffering, than the fall and winter holidays: the season seems to be a favorite target for unleashing pent-up bitterness over having been raised in a tradition of faith and culture.

So, if this has happened to your family, you’re not alone.  Over a quarter-century in the mental health field, I have had to see many families distressed at the verbal attacks, the rebellion, and the apparent determination to be hurtful. Fighting with the young person about it is, of course, useless.  Trying to listen calmly, refusing to participate in conversations that are disrespectful, and suggesting the conversation continue later (and then following up to be sure “later” can happen) are potentially helpful.  Give yourself time to calm down, seek guidance from other people, consider the direction being taken.  If the young person has decided that belief in God is a superstition, something incompatible with science, perhaps they are willing to explore this, including the substantial number of scientists who are convinced that there is a God. Perhaps they are willing to learn about intelligent design from non-biased sources.   When the attitude is not mere cynicism but actual anger, it is very painful. Sometimes the rage is about the perceived lack of choice, the complaint is that they didn’t want to participate in the faith from childhood and that the introduction into the faith, whether bris or baptism, was abusive and unfair.

A rabbi whom I consulted echoed the mental health professional’s perspective: look at what else is going on, what other issues are at hand.  Someone who has found clarity (as they see it) should be more peaceful, not angry. An adolescent or young adult who has decided that religion is just superstition might be annoyed at being expected to participate, but will not be enraged. Anger is the sign that the presenting assertion is merely the top layer. What else is going on? Why the sudden rage?  Is someone smart enough – smarter than Fr. Georges le Maitre, the Jesuit priest and physicist who developed the theory now called the “big bang theory,” apparently, by their own reckoning – simultaneously naïve enough to believe something just because some people who sound convincing said so on some internet platform? What other indoctrination have they absorbed with unquestioning readiness?

Of course, you won’t have this conversation at Thanksgiving, right after the young person drops the bomb of their atheism, or rejection of religion, or rage at you about their Baptism, Bar or Bat Mitzvah, or Confirmation. That’s the time to somehow find the patience to be, or pretend to be, calm, politely curious and willing to discuss this later.  The conversation may happen over weeks, months, or years; it may involve some third party – a religious advisor, a therapist, a wise friend who has been on the same road.

It won’t be a fun conversation, and we can’t control the outcome. By being calm, listening carefully, asking sincere questions and verifying that you understand, you leave the door open for further dialogue as well as for the possibility of a change of heart.

Changes of heart are hard to admit, and even more so in the world of social media.  If a young person adopts a position, there will be a host of online encouragers.  If the young person reports pushback from adults, there will be more voices, criticizing the adults, urging cutting off the relationship, etc.  But, if the young person announces a change of heart, some of these voices of encouragement can become accusing, vindictive, cruel. Backing out of a decision can always be hard; imagine telling your parents you’ve decided to drop out of med school to be a professional surfer.  Consider the people who go through with weddings because they don’t want to disappoint people. Even smart, competent adults foolishly move forward into situations they know are wrong because they don’t want the transient embarrassment and miserable, but also transient, short-term effects. How much harder it is for young people who haven’t finished developing a mature brain.

This means our first job, as adults, is to listen with compassion and find a way to keep the door of communication open.  This way, when the young person is ready to reconsider, or be less vitriolic, or simply have a real dialogue, it will not require they have the desperation of the Prodigal Son to take the first steps. Whenever the child takes those first steps towards dialogue and reconciliation, remember the father in the parable, who ran to meet the returning child.