The Real Value of Work

We learn through work that patience matters. That, eventually, given great effort day after day, year after year, we’ll see results. Through our experience in work, we can deduce that that progress in the spiritual life is slow, but that it will pay off. We learn that we don’t necessarily have to see the big picture in order to know it’s there.

Recently I heard some horrific statistics regarding young men and their participation in the work force. The host of a national radio program cited an article from The Washington Post 800px-gustave_courbet_-_the_stonebreakers_-_wga05457that referred to recent research demonstrating a growing tend in America. Apparently, not only are about 20% of young men between 21-30 years of age out of work, but they aren’t too upset about it. Instead, they are finding satisfaction in video games, computers and television, while living in their parents’ basements. Most in this group have not held a job of any kind in at least a year.  Staggering. As such, this is the first generation to feel no guilt about a virtual no-show in the work force, or about being dependent upon parents or the government dole.

While this news is shocking, the astute have been warning about this problem for the past several years. In Bill Bennet’s, The Book of Man, published in 2011, he quotes another author,

There is trouble with men today. For example, after studying today’s workforce data, author and commentator David Brooks observed that “in 1954, about 96 percent of American men between the ages of 25-54 worked. Today that number is around 80 percent. One-fifth of all men in their prime working ages are not getting up  and going to work.”

There are many reasons for this change in society. Bennet, himself, cites video games, single parenthood, corrosive entertainment and a lack of religion, among other things.

Whatever the cause, I want to discuss one particular concern among the many overwhelming consequences this lack of discipline and drive among our young men will reap on their souls. One young man profiled in the Washington Post article – who holds an Associates Degree, by the way – had some words that should give us great pause:

 “When I play a game, I know if I have a few hours I will be rewarded” he said. “With a job, it’s always been up in the air with the amount of work I put in and the reward.”

That quote got me thinking about the true value of work.

Of course, there are the obvious things. Work is necessary in a civil society, allowing us the ability to support ourselves and our families – as such it is often the conduit through which God provides our daily bread. Work is good for us both physically and intellectually. God called man to work, telling Adam, “in the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (Genesis 3:19).

But what concerns me most is how much work provides for us spiritually, how perfectly our experience with work can reflect our spiritual journey, and how this disconnect with work is will result in an even greater disconnect with the spiritual in our young men.

Labor is a physical manifestation of the spiritual effort we must continue faithfully throughout our lives in order to obtain union with God.

Just as the carpenter must continue to hew the wood, patiently carving, hour upon hour, day by day, seeing the end product only in his mind’s eye, so too, we must continue to pursue heaven, trusting that, indeed, “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for the who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Just as the bricklayer lays brick after brick, taking care to place each and every one exactly to plan, not seeing the end of his work, but only trusting in the plan of the architect, so we, too, must continue to pursue excellence with every step, trusting the architect of our lives to create something magnificent from the application of our best efforts to some of the most mundane tasks, day after day after day.

If the carpenter quits before seeing the final product, it will be forever hidden within the confines of the wood. In that case no one will ever see the beauty hidden within. And the wood will never realize its intended end.

If the brick layer allows himself to get tired on the job, his work will be sloppy, and his building will not be up to par. The plan may have been correct, but the brick-layer’s carelessness will cause problems for him, for anyone who works beside him, or anyone who plans to use that building that he so carelessly built. We, too, must apply the utmost care every step of the way, for our work affects those around us in ways we may never witness.

In our vocations as fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, priests, consecrated singles and others, we must not simply plod along, but rather work with passion and purpose – and great care – from hour to hour, day to day. Never mind the monotony; never mind the challenges; never mind the tiresome little crosses we must bear.

We learn these things through a consistent experience with work. Not necessarily paid work. As a stay-at-home mom, I certainly see the connection between my work life and my spiritual life. I toil day after day, trusting in God’s plan for my children. I see glimpses here and there, but so often as a mother, I am tempted to throw my hands up at what appears to be the futility of the work. I’ll never be able to do this job right. This is too much. It is too thankless. It will never be finished. Too often I fail to see the fruits of my labor.

No matter. I am only called to lay the bricks according to God’s plan. I must trust that He will work everything out for the best. Day after day, I must rejoice even in the mundane. I must bring my all to the job that, frankly, doesn’t always offer positive feedback. But there is one way that my experience differs from that of the bricklayer. The architect may not be standing alongside the bricklayer, assuring him and encouraging his progress. In our case, Christ is with us. He helps us to lay that brick. He applies the mortar so all our efforts build toward the finished product, which is the eternal happiness of heaven for ourselves and our families.

If we ignore the architect, if we lose faith in the finished product, if we try to follow our own plans, we will look back and wish we would have paid closer attention, that we would not have trudged along with such half-baked effort. For our lives will be scarred reflections of our own sloppiness, our lack of patience, diligence and discipline.

We learn through work that patience matters. That, eventually, given great effort day after day, year after year, we’ll see results. Through our experience in work, we can deduce that that progress in the spiritual life is slow, but that it will pay off. We learn that we don’t necessarily have to see the big picture in order to know it’s there.

Ultimately, work gives us evidence in the physical realm of what religion can do for us in the spiritual realm. According to Saint John Paul II,

(9) Work is a good thing for man-a good thing for his humanity-because through work man not only transforms nature, adapting it to his own needs, but he also achieves fulfilment as a human being and indeed, in a sense, becomes “more a human being”. – Laborem Exercens

To the extent that our young men are not “achieving fulfillment” as human beings, we cannot possibly achieve fulfillment as a society.

Even more importantly, if we do not teach our young men to have patience to perform a good job in pursuit of long-term satisfaction on earth, how will they ever be able to pursue the long-term satisfaction of heaven? If the immediate feedback from a video game trumps the long-term satisfaction of a job well-done, how will they ever be willing to do the work necessary on earth now, that one day they might hear these glorious words from heaven:

Well done, my good and faithful servant…enter into the joy of your master.”

 

 

The Advent that almost Wasn’t.

Despite our best intentions, by their very force the material obligations of the Christmas season can push the more spiritual Advent activities aside.

Most of us aspire to lofty ideals during Advent:

“O, Lord, I anxiously await your coming and offer all that I am and all that I do for love of You, looking forward with all my heart to uniting myself to You in the celebration of your Incarnation.”advent-wreath

But often we fall somewhere between the ideal and the overwrought, overstressed, if not practical sentiment:

“Lord, could you just hurry up and come already, so we can get back to a regular routine?!”

And yet, who can blame us? Many of us already feel like we’re drowning, barely afloat amidst the trials, tribulations and regulations of every-day family life – getting little Joey to piano, Susie to violin, Harvard to debate practice and – in our case – homeschooling from morning till night, along with meal planning, grocery shopping, housekeeping and more. Then – every year around this time – here comes a great millstone of joy around our necks – otherwise known as Christmas lights strung from here to high heaven, perfectly appointed trees and wall to wall decor, shopping, hospitality, parties, family pictures, cards and letters, never-ending trips to the post office, planning, budgeting, charitable giving, baking and traveling. (Sometimes don’t you just want to curl up in your empty manger and hide from all the demands of boxes, bows and bounty until it’s all over?)

And after all the material traditions are said and done, we’re supposed to do what? Advent wreath? Candles? Special attention to Sacraments? Added Prayer? Sacrifice?

Sadly, despite our best intentions, by the inherent force of their nature,  the material obligations of the season often push the more spiritual Advent activities aside. To the point where we look back around Gaudete Sunday and realize that all those candles and Jesse tree ornaments, prayers, extra Masses, rosaries and reflections have been lost along the road of good intentions, somehow caught up and blown away in the wind before we even realized they were gone.

At least that’s what happened to our family this year.  And from the looks of all the beautiful houses and the over-the-top parties and show-stopping hospitality – where every dessert is perfection and the air is filled with the scent of pine needles and cranberries – I’m probably not the only one.

It seems that Advent has ceased to be about, well, ADVENT. Yes, it’s still about getting ready for Christmas.But it’s not about getting ready for Christmas.  There is no time of year when the contrast between how we look on the outside and how prepared we are on the inside can feel more stark. Sometimes, with all the joy surrounding the exterior, the lack of attention I’ve paid to my interior life is that much more highlighted for me. I begin to wonder if I’m not one of those “whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within they are full of dead man’s bones and all uncleanness” (Matt. 23:27-28). Maybe it’s not that bad; but often it comes pretty close.

This is particularly the time when we should shed all the excess and train our eyes on heaven. On the things that really matter. Instead, every year the celebrations get earlier and earlier; the bar gets higher and higher; the obligations pile on and on.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Unlike Lent, which lends itself to reflection and sacrifice, coming as it does before Spring  and at the end of the long, drawn out quiet of winter, Advent is often glossed over by all the demands of the season.

What is the solution? And when I say “solution” I mean “practical solution.” Because chances are, all the obligations are not going to go away. Sure, we can disband everything that is not necessary; but for most of us, many of these traditions are here to stay. Try as we might, we’re still going to have decorations, get-togethers with extended family and friends, family pictures, Christmas cards, shopping and the like.

Yet, Christ is still calling. Whether we listen or not.

In our home, we have always had two Advent traditions. Every morning we read the stories of salvation history and place our special Jesse Tree ornaments on the Tree. Every evening we light a candle on the Advent wreath and read from one of Arnold Ytreeide’s Advent books.

But not this year.

Somehow what we used to think were crazy Christmas schedules for us as a family have multiplied into several crazy Christmas schedules – one for the family, and separate ones for each of our three teens, who all have their own Christmas obligations, whether through school, work, youth groups, or other affiliation. With everyone running around  we’ve not been able to schedule “family time” for much of anything. In fact, this year I hadn’t even found our Jesse Tree ornaments until a few days ago. And that was only because I’d had a huge awakening.

On Gaudete Sunday, it occurred to me that Advent is half over. I was shocked to realize that through the first two weeks of Advent, we had yet to light a single candle. My youngest children have had no reference to Advent other than the pink and purple candles sitting front and center in Church,  or the words we speak at prayer time or during open discussions around the table. Other than random moments, there has been no effort –  organized anyway – to help them prepare their hearts and minds for Christ.

It actually hit me that perhaps we should just give it up this year. Why not just get ready for Christmas and give Advent another try next year? I mean, what else can we do when the demands of the world won’t STOP?

But something about that idea just didn’t feel right. After all, what is all this “stuff” for, anyway? If we give up, aren’t we just releasing the most important if least demanding Person of the season? The One quietly waiting to gain our attention? Can I actually look myself in the mirror if my solution to the busyness of the season is just to put away the Advent candles and save my prayers for less demanding times?

No, I can’t.

So I looked at the calendar. Realizing we still had ten days left, tonight, we took action.

My husband pulled out the wreath and the kids lit the candles. One teen was at work; another was somewhere studying for a test. But four kids sat around the table and gazed at the three candles flickering before them.

Tonight, we spent time reflecting on the story of salvation history. We talked about the creation and the fall; We read about how Christ represents the Second Adam. How Mary is the new Eve. In brief passages, we read about God’s covenant with Noah; with Abraham. We placed our Jesse tree ornaments on the Christmas tree. Not the second tree we normally put in the classroom, but the family tree. And we didn’t read the Advent book we normally read; we focused on the story of salvation. In other words, we changed things up a bit in the interest of time. But that’s OK.

We gathered. And we read together. And those teens who weren’t around? They noticed the Advent wreath on the table when they returned. They may not have been a part of the conversation, but they remained part of the tradition. The reminder brought back all the years they had sat around the Advent wreath. They noticed.

For the next ten days, our family may not STOP. But we are going to PAUSE. If not twice a day, at least once. We’ve found the wreath; we’ve found the ornaments. We’ve made time for the sacrament of Confession. We are moving forward.

Our Advent may be brief. It may not be perfect. It may be missing some piece that would be “just the thing.” But it will be Advent nonetheless.

It will be a PAUSE.

And that PAUSE will matter.

Because that PAUSE will allow us to put all the other “stuff” into perspective. Rather than wait for the “perfect” opportunity to pull out the Advent wreath or the Jesse tree ornaments, we will schedule time each day – the same time. No matter that one family member is at work or another out with friends. Anyone home will be invited to participate. But if we wait for everyone to be ready, we’ll never be ready. If we wait for all the stars to align and the the time to be right, they will never be right.

We’ve lit our candles. And we plan to keep lighting them. Until the moment comes when we get to meet the bridegroom (Matt. 25:1).

The Advent that almost wasn’t…is here.

 

 

Lent – Where the Body Meets the Soul

Have you given anything up this Lent?

It seems everywhere I turn this year, I have found recommendations about “doing” things for Lent. I’ve seen flyers taped to church doors, I’ve received videos from Catholic chocolateapostolates, and I’ve heard discussions via Catholic radio. They don’t suggest that we not attempt a physical discipline; but while they encourage us to engage in spiritual reading, help the poor, perform the corporal and spiritual works for mercy or spend more time in prayer, they say virtually nothing about restraining our appetites in any way.

This “do something positive” trend seems to have increased in recent years. But while  the above suggestions are all laudable activities, we should remind ourselves that the saints would not have separated living out their faith in a positive way from disciplining themselves via abstinence, fasting and mortification. In fact, they considered the spiritual life to be deeply connected with the physical. They recognized that when we lack discipline in our physical lives, our spiritual lives suffer.

Here are just a few comments from the saints on physical discipline (or a lack thereof) and its relationship with the soul:

Do you not know that fasting can master concupiscence, lift up the soul, confirm it in the paths of virtue, and prepare a fine reward for the Christian? -Saint Hedwig of Silesia

Irrational feeding darkens the soul and makes it unfit for spiritual experiences. – St. Thomas Aquinas

As long as a single passion reigns in our hearts, though all the others should have been overcome, the soul will never enjoy peace. – St. Joseph Calasanctius

It is almost certain that excess in eating is the cause of almost all the diseases of the body, but its effects on the soul are even more disastrous. – St. Alphonsus Liguori

The more we indulge ourselves in soft living and pampered bodies, the more rebellious they will become against the spirit. – St. Rita of Cascia

Yes, of course we should engage in activities that help others or increase our spiritual knowledge and time with Christ. But we shouldn’t allow those things to excuse us from taming our passions and appetites.

Unfortunately, many times we allow our sacrifices to become ends in themselves. Perhaps this explains the “upswing” in recommendations for other Lenten activities. After all, things like prayer, spiritual reading, or even practicing works of mercy  directly impact our relationship with The Lord, whereas giving up cake could seem like a random and inconsequential activity. But the fact is that our faith is not either…or; it should be both…and.

We will not have a fruitful Lent just because we declare that we are “giving up _____.” Rather we should remember that those physical sacrifices are not ends in themselves. The end of all discipline must be love. We give up chocolate, – or whatever else – to remind ourselves that this world is fleeting. It is an expression of love that we lavish on Our Lord, passionately declaring that this television set, this candy bar, this ice cream, this cake, these cookies – any and all things which we enjoy in this life – are but nothing compared to Him.

This is the time of year when, as individuals united with the entire Church, we encourage ourselves to walk through the fires of discipline and denial for Our Beloved! This is our time in the desert. This is when, by God’s grace, we face the temptation of X, and we declare,

Man should not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the Father’s mouth. – Matthew 4:4.

It is when we look over all creation and remind ourselves,

You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve. – Matthew 4:10

There is great power in knowing that by Gods’ grace we can be in control. That our appetites do not rule us. Provided we always keep in mind the ultimate end of self-control:

The purpose of asceticism, self-denial and mortification is the growth in charity or love of God. Christian self-denial is not based on the idea that the world, or the flesh are intrinsically wicked, but on the conviction that God is intrinsically good. – Archbishop Fulton Sheen

We release the chains of this world so we can bind ourselves more closely to Christ. Doing so will help us to live our faith more fully. God’s grace helps us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked or visit the imprisoned. And that grace flows abundantly when one of His children demonstrates a commitment to God, the Father, in heaven over the material gods of the earth.

So – What have you given up this Lent? There’s still time…

 

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