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We are drowning in a sea of voices.
Superficially, we see this in advertising. Everywhere around
us, billboards, radio, television, newspapers, magazines,
the internet and the fashion industry hold out the promise
of something better for us --- a new soap, a new lover, a
new philosophy of life.
More deeply, however, we experience this sea of voices as
a great tension. The different voices we hear pull us in many
directions and, after a while, we're no longer sure who we
are, what we believe in, or what will bring us life. Different
voices tell us different things and each voice seems to carry
its own truth.
Truth is painfully
complex
(as are we) and truth is always bigger than our capacity
to absorb and integrate it. To be open to truth is to
be perpetually stretched and perpetually in tension,
at least this side of eternity.
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On the one hand, there's a powerful voice beckoning us towards
self-sacrifice, self-renunciation, altruism, heroism, telling
us that happiness lies in giving life away, that selfishness
will make us unhappy, and that we will only be ourselves when
we are big-hearted, generous, and put the needs of others
before our own.
Deep down, we all know the truth of that; it's Jesus' voice
telling us that there is no greater love, nor meaning, than
to lay down one's life for others. Francis of Assisi was right,
we only receive by giving. And so we admire people who radiate
that and we feed our souls and those of our children with
stories of heroism, selflessness, and bigness-of-heart.
But that's not the only voice we hear. We hear as well a
powerful, persistent voice seemingly calling us in the opposite
direction. Superficially, this is the voice calling us towards
pleasure, comfort and security, the voice that tells us to
take care of ourselves, to drink in life's pleasures to the
full, to seize the day while it's still ours to seize.
More deeply, this is the voice that challenges us not to
be too timid or fearful to be a full human being. This voice
invites us to participate in, contribute to, and enjoy the
wonderful energy, color, wit, intelligence and creativity
that makes the world go round and makes life worth living.
This is the voice beckoning us towards romance, creativity,
art, sex, achievement, physical health, the voice telling
us Jesus' parable of the talents and holding before us a truth
too often neglected in religious circles --- namely, that
God is also the author of eros, color, physical health, wit,
and intelligence. Life, it insists, needs to tasted, in God's
name.
So which is the real voice? Is one of these voices to be
heeded and the other resisted?
This is a complex question and there's more to it than meets
the eye. Historically, the temptation, at least in religious
circles, has been to over-simplistically identify the voice
of Jesus with the voice that calls us toward self-sacrifice
and asceticism: "Everything is about self-renunciation!"
Indeed, it is. Jesus did say that, as did every great saint.
But Jesus and those others also said more, and our failure
to take heed of the rest of what they said has sometimes made
for a spirituality that is a half-truth with some nasty consequences,
namely, in the name of religion, we have sometimes become
unhealthily fearful, timid, and guilt-ridden.
Whenever this happens, the other voice, the one inviting
us to enter more fully into life's dance of energy, is not
blotted out but driven underground. And there, because we
have neglected part of what God has called us to, instead
of becoming martyrs, we become people with "martyr-complexes,"
frustrated persons whose energies become negative and manipulative
in the name of love and service.
Moreover,
in the name of this half truth, we often end up having God
fighting God, truth fighting truth, wisdom fighting energy,
and spiritual health fighting physical health, because we've
put self-renunciation in false opposition to the challenge
to also enter into the wonderful God-given energy of this
planet where beauty, romance, creativity, physical health,
wit, wine-drinking and good humor also extend part of God's
authentic invitation.
How to find a balance in all of this? If both voices invite
us to truth and yet they seem in opposition to each other,
where do we go with this?
There is no simple truth, here or anywhere else. Truth is
painfully complex (as are we) and truth is always bigger than
our capacity to absorb and integrate it. To be open to truth
is to be perpetually stretched and perpetually in tension,
at least this side of eternity. And that's true in terms of
the seeming opposition between these voices. At times they
are in real opposition and we can't have it both ways, but
have to choose one to the detriment of the other. Truth has
real boundaries and there's a danger in letting it mean everything.
But there's an equal danger in letting it mean too little,
of reducing a full truth to a half-truth. And nowhere, at
least in the spiritual life, is this danger greater than in
our tendency to let either of these voices completely blot
out the other.
Oblate of Mary Immaculate Father Ronald Rolheiser is a
specialist in the field of spirituality and systematic theology.
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