Thursday, May 12, 2005

In the gloaming...

Alice Elliot Dark wrote a story entitled "In the Gloaming" about a young man who returns home to die of AIDS. The beauty of the story is captured in those fleeting moments of transition between day and night, that period of time where all the world is bathed in a heathery light, known as the gloaming. As day gives way to night, all the world is transformed, even if but for a few moments. As the man's life ebbs, the transition of life to death is not made idly or smoothly but involves a transformation wherein his reality - and the reality of his family - is changed forever. In the gloaming of his life all things are made new and seen afresh, just as his life is given up to the still night of death.

It seems to me that I have been in something of a gloaming. I entered the Society of Jesus with the intent to serve God as a companion of Jesus by helping others. I'd scarcely consider myself naive, though I would admit to being a bit idealistic. This idealism has all but faded as recent events have certainly marked a transition - perhaps even a maturation - in my life.

The election of Benedict XVI and recent shake-up at America magazine have left me feeling dejected. I'm not alone in my despondency, to be sure, but of late my hope had begun to be eclipsed by nagging suspicions that I don't belong in the Jesuits, that I might not even belong in the church. In idle moments - and believe me, I have many of them - I scan the on-line newspapers, blogs, and religious columns and I often find myself siding more those "liberal dissidents" rather than triumphant troubadors of orthodoxy.

I've been praying about this a lot...many late nights walking down back roads and through Native American cemeteries. I pray easier at night when all the world is asleep and I can feel my own smallness in the enormity of God's creation. Things are so very different at night, still and calm and peaceful; I am very different at night, receptive and searching. It's because of this that I tend to walk at night which is, by contrast, so much more peaceful than the day. Though the setting is the same, there is a clear distinction between the land during the night and the land during the day. There is an apparently neat and easy split between the two - dark and light, night and day.

So I took a walk this evening and questioned my purpose...I suppose the "desert experience" of being somewhat alone in Wyoming will raise such questions. Since I'd eaten supper earlier than usual, I embarked on my walk just as the sun began to set and the landscape was transformed by a new light, by a fading light, by the gloaming. And as I stood there watching creation take on a new and vibrant hue, I knew that darkness would inevitably fall and that soon all would be shrouded by a moonless night. Transfixed by this sight and the ambiguity it posed, its mediation between night and day, all the questions I have been wrestling with - "Do I want a family?" "Should I go back to music as a career?" "Should I go and do my PhD, or go to law school, or to medical school?" - fell silent. Day and night ceased to exist and there, between the two, was a whole new realm of time and vision that erased my fears and anxiety and, in their stead, I found but one word: dialogue.

Now it might not seem like much to you: dialogue. If my zeal and enthusiasm was to be a servant of Christ and the church, then my role may best be expressed as one who will seek to interpret and to initiate dialogue between parties. If women seek roles of leadership in the church, how do I listen and engage both sides in order to bring them to discussion. If gays and lesbians and transgendered persons seek greater recognition, then I will listen to their narratives and stand by them as an empathetic listener and proactive dialogue partner. In the ecumenical and inter-religious forum, perhaps my best service will be to be attentive to the other traditions and to seek more common and fertile ground in which seeds of mutual respect and admiration might be planted.

I think part of my difficulty in many ways is that I'm always looking for answers. It's frustrating to be on an Indian Mission where there are so many problems - alcoholism, drugs, domestic violence, chronic unemployment - and it seems that there are no answers to these problems. I can't solve their problems...hell, I can't even seem to make a dent. But I'm realizing that my job is not to "change" them or to give them answers but rather is to companion them on their journey as a people. They must find and appropriate the answers that will address their own lives, otherwise it is nothing less that imperialism or gross imposition.

There is no end to dialogue, no way to exhaust the riches mined from either party engaged in open and honest discourse. Perhaps my role as a Jesuit will be nothing more - and certainly nothing less - than one as an able companion for dialogue, one who can offer an ear and a discerning heart, to see how parties are being led and how they might best follow the promptings of the Spirit. Regardless of current events - I say tremulously - this is the best service I am able to offer.

I think I joined the Jesuits in part to find and to offer answers. Surely this is why I love academics so dearly. Nevertheless, I doubt seriously my ability to offer good and pat answers to any "problem" or issue that presents itself. Maybe all I have to do is to keep asking questions and, when a good answer presents itself, to take account of it, note it, and then ask, "but what if..."

I'm not accustomed to writing longer posts - I'm generally too lazy - and I suspect that as nutty as I am, this is a bit more personal than usual. Tough. Some will think it silly and others will think it trite and still others - probably those who know me - will think it insincere. In studies I have embraced the "gray" area of life, advocated that in dealing with matters of faith there was much of a premium placed on silence-in-the-face-of-mystery rather than empty words expressive of very little. Perhaps my life and vocation is to be a perpetual gloaming, mediating the shift of night and day, faith and doubt, belief and unbelief, gay and straight, man and woman, black and white. Such would be consistent with a process of maturation that enabled the appropriation and incorporation of a method into one's very life or very being.

I fear I'm rambling and becoming incoherent...if it's quite something to experience, it is something else to express. If my gesturing toward some meaning has had any effect then let it be this: that the decision "for" or "against" is antithetical to the gloaming experience of "both/and" that is commensurate with so much of our Catholic faith "both fully human and divine," "both sinner and loved" etc. Things are so different when cast in a new light, familiar yet foreign, when we take the time to see the world through gloaming eyes.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Um, not to sound out of line here. But it kind of sounds like you get it.

*shrugs*

Just my two cents.

PseudoCuz

Anonymous said...

I hear shades of Fr. Gray here… I read In the Gloaming too.
I hear your inward struggles and I empathize. It would be easier to leave and try something else. The more difficult task is to stay and follow the Spirit-driven road you are on. (It is difficult being a woman in the Catholic Church at times as well. Cannon law prohibits a woman from even delivering a homily!) The Church desperately needs intelligent, thinking men and women. We need shepherds who encourage the flock to experience Christ with both faith AND intellect and reason. It may be time to get rid of the sheep metaphor. Peace. Dianne

Mark Mossa, SJ said...

Ryan,

Hang in there. It sounds like you're on your way to becoming a fine Jesuit. I find myself feeling the same way these days. But, at the same time, God keeps reaffirming that what he wants for me is to be a Jesuit. That is how I'm best going to serve God's will, no matter how difficult things are or become. I think what God made be calling us to, especially those of us Jesuits who don't stand comfortably in either the "liberal" or "conservative" camps, is precisely what you suggest--dialogue. That's going to open us up to the kind of persecution we pray for in the Exercises, but it may be what the Church needs most these days are those who, nevertheless, have the courage to do it. Be assured of my prayers, and my solidarity with you.

Peace,

Mark, sj

Anonymous said...

Ryan,

How can you possibly, and beautifully, sum up my thoughts and feelings?
I'm older than you I'm sure and am busy in a career that does nothing more for me than to pay my bills but I constantly feel a tug by God to do something for Him and for me but I have no idea as to what that is. So, I just do the best I can with the time and energy that He gives to me to pray and to help in parish ministries and to keep contemplating His desires for me while I continue to just serve for the sake of the love of those I serve.
To be a Jesuit would be a dream for me but, alas, too many obstacles have been placed in front of me for that and cannot be removed until I reach a ripe old age. However, I believe that God has placed a Jesuit brain in my head and Jesuit love in my heart and that's enough for me.
Peace, brother. Keep on praying and contemplating and trusting in Him.
Bill

DrT said...

Hi, Ryan:

I stumbled onto your blog about three years and go and have been haunted for this one post for quite awhile.

Having lost touch with your blog, I every once in awhile thought of it and the several visits back to your blog before losing track.

Now Google provides a search engine for blogs and I find you again.

I'll stay in touch. And will take the time to catch up with your journey along the way.

Thanks, Ellen

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