I am trying to muster the self-discipline to write about self-discipline. This Lenten study is titled “The Power of Words” and I must say that the words “self-discipline” have very little appeal for me at the moment. They tend to conjure up concrete images of self-denial; of refraining from eating that second piece of cheesecake or having a slice of pizza without a beer. Its intimidation factor ranks right up there with “Paschal Triduum” and “Maundy Thursday” and calling the day we commemorate Jesus’ death “Good Friday.” That’s an optimistic title if there ever was one, and pretty much tips off our big picture theology. Now THAT will be more fun to write about.
My eighth grade son got a “B” on a test the other day. He was not happy. He is a straight “A” student, and you would have thought that Job had been unreasonably nailed by God all over again. He promptly announced that “I need a sabbatical. I just need three or four weeks so I can regroup.” I said that I was fairly confident that a sabbatical was not an option offered by his middle school, and that he would have to “regroup” on his own time. Besides, suffering through yet another week of school was a good thing, because suffering builds character.
We have said that to our kids a lot over the years. They have exercised their considerable verbal skills to protest any perceived unfairness, and we tell them that suffering builds character. A couple of them have managed (in earlier years) to sustain a magnificent oration about the injustice of homework for two hours at a stretch. A remarkable accomplishment for any grade school aged child, but not one that you tend to share with the grandparents. They were planted at the kitchen table with books in front of them (no wandering off allowed) but their gift for gab left them seemingly unable to accomplish anything until all of their FEELINGS about homework in general were fully shared. It didn’t matter if they had an audience. When they finally completed their exhausting diatribe, they would actually do their homework, which would take about half an hour.
Of course, the character trait that we are really talking about building here is self-discipline. This has nothing to do with suffering. If I had done their homework for them or said that homework in grade school was unreasonable they might still think that homework constituted suffering. Instead, what they discovered, on their own time and in their own way, is that musterinig the self-discipline to accomplish what initially seems to be unpleasant is absolutely necessary. For years now we can just trust them to come home and get their homework done, no questions asked (and no complainst heard.)
The concept of self-discipline as the denial of self exists in many religious traditions. Often, as in Hinduism and to some extend Buddhism, the practice of self-discipline creates detachment from the finite self, detachment from the things of this world. I would argue that Christianity differs from some of those traditions in that the ultimate goal of self-discipline is to enhance attachment what really matters, not simply to deny the self.
About five years ago I spent a week at a Benedictine monastery. The monks there live a life of Lent, I think; always in complete self-discipline and holy expectation. Their austere accomodations are not testament to their own self-denial, rather they emphasize the complete unimportance of worldly “stuff” and the ultimate importance of relationship. Their vow of celibacy is not about “denying the flesh” as much as it is about making sure that they are equally available to everyone, without any strings attached. I joined them in worship five times a day, and I joined them in their work throughout the day. What I discovered is that they are the same thing. Work becomes worship. Benedict calls it obedience; this willingness to listen to the plan that God has for our life. To recognize that the flowers and vegetables that you grow are gifts from God, to look at the intricacies of a leaf and marvel at the grandness of it all, to wonder at the face of a baby, to see God in the eyes of another; that’s the self-discipline of connection, and if your practice it enough, it begins to become automatic. We begin to recognize that God is everywhere, all around us, and we begin to respond. We begin to develop a holy attitude toward all of creation. We connect, and we begin to see where and how God has created meaning for our life.
Father Theodore taught me centering prayer while I was at the monastery. At first, the holding completely still part was hard for me. It got better, and now i find the practice sustaining. It began as the self-discipline of centering prayer, but now it is simply connectional. I realized that this sort of prayer wasn’t about finding God, but about finally being quiet enough so that God could get my attention.
I like what Joan Chittister has to say about all of this:
The ancients say that once upone a time a disciple asked the elder, “Holy One, is there anything that I can do to make myself enlightened?”
And the Holy One answered, “As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning.”
“Then of what use” the surprised disciple asked “are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?”
“To be sure,” the elder said, “that you are not asleep when the sun begins to arise.”
That’s self-discipline.
Scripture to check out:
Proverbs 4:23-26
Matthew 25:13
Matthew 26: 40-41
Luke 12: 35-40
1st Peter 1: 16-17
Questions:
How has American culture embraced or failed to embrace the concept of self-discipline? How important is self-discipline to Christianity? Has it been overemphasized? Underemphasized? Do you agree that the goal of self-discipline is connecdtion? If so, what types of behaviors might be considered both self-discipline and connective?
My experience with the concept of self-discipline in our culture is very different from my experience considering it as an expression of faith. Our American culture has this rugged do-it-yourself pull yourself up by your bootstraps mentality that seems to imply if you don’t succeed in your endeavors you are just not self-disciplined enough. In other words you haven’t tried hard enough and there were countless things you could have done different, done better.
As a devotee of Jesus however, self-discipline seems to be one of the connectional aspects of Christian practice that us to real communion with God, especially when we take seriously the command to love God first and also one another. When I moved to Minneapolis from Kansas City I joined a church that promoted a Lenten discipline called “Journey of Love”. This journey required six weeks of doing intentional acts rather than “giving up” something, and it was a turning point in my understanding of how communal Lenten practices could actually be. The first week we were requested to write a letter to someone with whom we were not in regular contact. The second week was to phone someone. Third we were to give someone something; preferably something we had created ourselves. Week four called us to pray for one specific person, and by week five we were to pray for the church universal. The sixth week we were to intentionally pray for ourselves in an attitude of forgiveness and gratitude. By committing to intentionally focus on someone else in an act of self-giving this self-discipline got me in the habit of looking for God in the “other”, and finding that my spirit connected in a more joyful way than before I began the journey.
Since I left the tundra for the sunny south my five years of practicing Journey of Love during Lent have fallen by the wayside, and I admit to having fallen into the habit of thinking about self-discipline as all the should a, aught a, could a things that I use to beat myself up when I haven’t done or said the right thing at the right time. However, after reading these questions I now plan to refocus on a self-discipline that embraces the principles of Journey of Love in finding God in the face of the “other”, and if not search for, at least not run away from, those places where I am uncomfortable and those people who are not at all like me.
Constance – Thank you so much for the “Journey of Love” description. I love the letter, phone call, and prayer ideas.
(I’ve figured out how to reply! woo-hoo) – Trish