Cultivating Your Soul

Years ago when I was in a seminar at Princeton, I remember one of my classmates always repeating this saying: “It’s not what it’s about.” Meaning that, for example, when someone comes home and gets mad at the dog they most likely are not actually angry at the dog, but instead are aggravated about something that happened to them at work. That saying gave me a new perspective, which made me look beyond an actual occurrence toward its deeper meaning.

I saw the same thing in an August 16th article in The New York Times entitled, Hope’s Two Acres. The article is about a farm run by recovering addicts from New York City. People whose lives have been shattered and destroyed but who now have a chance to cultivate kale, beets and lettuce. What they’re really cultivating, however, is sobriety. The farm is about what all farms are about – producing good things from the soil. But this farm is also about producing good things for the hearts and the souls of people.

It’s always refreshing to see people take positive steps to take charge of their lives and overcome the fear, the anxiety and the pain that drove them to seek solace in alcohol and drugs. So much of our lives are given over to the simple tasks of trying to get things done, to gain some sort of control over the pressures and responsibilities we all have to live with. For me, it’s refreshing to think that on the corner of Route 9 and Snake Hill Road there’s a roadside stand where you can see baskets of squash, herbs, lettuce, Swiss chard and tomatoes, among other things. The thing one probably would not notice is the people there who have seen a miracle happen in their lives.

Jesus always talked about how what a person is like on the inside is most important – the outer trappings can fool you. And for all of us, the job of working on the interior landscape of ourselves is difficult. No one can really see that growth until one day it actually takes place and you begin to blossom into the person you not only need to be, but want to be. And it’s always nice to be surprised when you discover there is more to a person than you first thought.

Frank McCourt Part 2: The Doggedness of Faith

Frank McCourt may roll over in his grave after he reads this. Often, there’s no way to measure your faith as you would your temperature and discover how much you really believe or don’t believe about the faith you have been taught since childhood. Luther once said, “Each person must do their own believing.” However, I know that Frank McCourt has been a huge critic of the Catholic Church and many of his childhood stories expose the raw humanity of the priest and the institution with which he grew up. On the other hand – and I may be reading between the lines – in his stories, redemption always finds an opening even though the vessels holding it may be very crude. At any rate, he has given me a lesson for faith that I will always remember.

In his book, Teacher Man, he chronicles with brutal honesty what most teachers have to go through when they actually face students in the classroom. Nevertheless, he gives keen insight into what it means to do something for 30 years and not loose your soul in the process. With characteristic humor, he even unlatches a door that gives insight to faith.

One thing that got my attention was his use of the word “doggedness.” He wrote, “Doggedness is not as glamorous as ambition or talent or intellect or charm, but it is still the one thing that got me through the days and nights.”

Actually, things about my life can be characterized in the same way. Where I haven’t had talent or intellect, I’ve still been able to win the day. Believe it or not, I take a bit of inspiration from that old story about Jesus (Matthew 15:21-28) and the woman who’s asking for help but receives a rather cold response until she says that she’s willing even to accept the crumbs that fall from the table, like a dog.

Jesus is impressed by her “doggedness” and then he says that he has never found a faith like hers anywhere. Faith can be characterized in many ways. I think doggedness could be an apt way of describing our faithfulness in so many aspects of our lives. Sometimes things aren’t easy and we lack the tools we need for success, but by not being derailed and staying the course we can finally win the day.

Some days your will is all you have and, like Frank McCourt or the woman that confronts Jesus for help, that may be all you need.

So when Saint Paul says “Pray without ceasing” and when you feel up against the wall, or even fallen by bad news that comes in so many forms – a troubled marriage, a bad diagnosis, the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, worry over your children, the list goes on and on – let us be encouraged not to give up, but instead to have that dogged attitude that is part of faith.