One of my reasonable goals for 2013 is to pay more attention to my neglected spiritual side. The urge has been there all along, but the last two months of 2012 increased the sense of urgency. "The world is too much with us late and soon," and all that. Reality needed to be checked.
So I scoured amazon for Thomas Merton-like writers. You know. Christians who aren't rolled in too much holy. Writers with a sense of humor and a sense of sin. Ordinary people like me who think too much for their own good. The guy I settled on, James Martin, has written a slew of books about his order, the Jesuits (known in college basketball circles as "The Big East" or, now, "The Catholic Schools").
With My Life with the Saints, Martin did a neat thing. He wrote his memoir through the lens of selected saints. This means you don't learn a lot about the saints and you don't learn a lot about Martin -- but you learn enough to be dangerous at a cocktail party (where people talk about saints all the time).
OK, so I jest. The narrative style is yeoman and welcoming. Nothing fancy by any means. But it's personable. Certainly Martin's voice comes through and you count him as a friend by the end. The saints covered are Joan of Arc, Thérèse of Lisieux, Thomas Merton (huzzah), Ignatius of Loyola, Pedro Arrupe, Bernadette Soubirous, Mother Teresa, Good Pope John XXIII, St. Peter, Thomas Aquinas, Francis of Assisi, Joseph, the Ugandan martyrs, Aloysius Gonzaga, and Mary.
Without looking, I'm left with random observations -- Joan of Arc done in by the Feds, the Lisieux girl a shrinking violet, Merton the righteous writer and cool saint, Ignatius the founder of the Jesuits, Pedro the bureaucrat with heart, Mother Teresa the Albanian national who was canny about money, Gonzaga the 23-year-old goner, Pope John the jolly (and plump), St. Peter the rock (and prototypical "I am not worthy" sinner), Aquinas the fat scholar who married science with religion (the in-laws acted up at the reception), Francis the founder of the Franciscans, who stripped off his clothes in town square (streaking's antecedent in Italy, I think), and Mary the frightened but faithful.
More than that, yes, but these were initial impressions. And Martin does not pull punches about his own weaknesses and sins. He wisely advises that we NOT try to emulate saints but try to be "saintly" in our own ways. (He's speaking my language, but maybe that's because we Americans are such individualists). He taught me a new connotation for the word "indifference." The Jesuits see it as a positive thing. Thus, instead of "I don't care," it means "I'm as willing to do this as that, sacrifice this as that, volunteer for this or that."
A second, even wiser meaning for "indifferent" is being indifferent to people and things that used to annoy us, embarrass us, or injure our precious pride. I like that. It is the "grace of indifference" in that case. Instead of bitching and moaning about this loser or that, we shrug and accept them as human. We, too, have our annoying tendencies after all. We should count ourselves lucky if others react with the "grace of indifference" to our petty pride, odd quirks, and abundant weaknesses.
Finally, on a personal note, I swore off checking e-mail and a few websites (including this one) every weekday morning before getting ready for work. Instead, I got in the habit of reading a chapter of this book before getting into my walk-the-dog, make-breakfast, and shower routine. It was calming. It felt right. I was slowing myself down and reading about all these crazy sinners (at the core of every saint) who found different ways to commune with their spiritual sides.
So yeah. I think I'll continue. I have another Martin queued up for my second early-riser read, and then I might try some Buddhist or Hindu or Quaker or even plain old philosophy stuff. Maybe I'm kidding myself about the inner peace thing, but slowing down and thinking with some thinkers has proved helpful with that "world is too much with us" thing I mentioned up front. And it came none too soon....