Life Abundantly

It is Sunday - the fourth Sunday of Easter, believe it or not - and this morning I “attended” Bishop Barron’s Mass. At one point he used the phrase, “life abundantly,” as in, that Jesus came so that we may have life, and have it abundantly.

It is a phrase I somewhat understand. In the past I would have connected it to the idea of interior freedom found in relationship with Jesus and knowledge of His love for us; even the idea of dying to self. Life abundantly does not mean material goods in abundance, but an abundance of what really matters. An abundance of love in particular, I think. Especially as reflected in the relationships in our lives. Maybe life abundantly means answering your unique calling.

So anyway, I was struck by the phrase this morning because life does not seem abundant these days. To the contrary, it is mightily repressed. Repressed, because death is rampant. Repressed, because people’s livelihoods are erased, and true relationships are impossible. Virtual life does not equate to abundant life.

Anyone who has experienced some sort of surging interior life right now - I salute you. In the beginning, I understood that, and if our lockdown had only lasted two weeks, I think I’d still be there with you. More time to pray! More time to be in solidarity!

I’m halfway through 7 weeks, though. But I still want to know what an abundant life looks like, even in these conditions. What do you think it is?

It must be: Gratitude. First in all things, give thanks to God. In my experience, making a true, heartfelt expression of thanks to God is the first step to opening up your own heart. To finding gratitude more easily, certainly. But also for laying the groundwork for allowing Him to work in your life - my life. That way, I am not so resistant. What we are enduring feels unfair, on so many levels. But it isn’t the end.

Further, we know that God works all things for the better. An act of gratitude toward him is an act of faith, to say “I believe that you intend abundance for me, even if I cannot feel it right now.” I know I am blessed, I know that you watch my steps, I know that you, God, will be faithful to me. Whether I am faithful or not!

Life abundant is in the illuminated greenness of the trees after soaking up this week’s rain. It is in the trip to the grocery store when I found everything I needed. It is in a laugh-filled call with friends. It is every new day, when I have the opportunity to experience God’s love again. The latter, of course, never changes, no matter what’s going on in the world.

Never be the same

I have gotten into the habit of watching Jesus of Nazareth at Easter. It is the best version because of how realistic it is (no awful wigs, more or less Mediterranean or Middle Eastern looking actors, Peter is my favorite Peter. He has a fully believable anger management problem - go to around 1:56:30 in that link).

Very shortly after the above moment, we meet Peter’s nemesis, Matthew, the tax collector. The way they are both brought into the story of the prodigal son was an incredibly decision by director Franco Zeffirelli. Matthew, the prodigal at odds with Peter, the son who always had everything the Father promised. You can see it at 2:14:37 as Peter chooses to reluctantly enter Matthew’s house and the story begins.

There is a scene after the disciples are gathered and living with Jesus as he preaches and travels that particularly struck me this time. It is a conversation at night between Peter and Matthew as they lay down to sleep around the fire (2:37:34):

Peter: I told my wife, I won’t be long. And in any case, the fishing’s hopeless, why not go away? I told her, I said, I’ll come back in the spring.

Matthew: Don’t lie to her. And to yourself.

Peter: Lie?

Matthew: Yes. You know very well. You’ll never go back.

Peter: I will.

Matthew: No, you won’t. Never. You’ll never fish again, you’ll never get drunk again. And you’ll never live in Capernaum again. None of us will. We will never be the same. And neither will the lives of everyone in the whole world. We know why, Simon. We’re the first to know.

Peter turns over and pulls his blanket closer to his face.

They both left a life behind: Peter, his fishing nets, and Matthew, as he got up from his tax collectors’ table. Matthew is right, they will never be back in those old lives, and they will never be the same again, nor will the world. The obvious application is for all Christians: once you “take up your cross,” sincerely, you and your world will never be the same.

Now, for a more secular application: I believe this scene strikes me especially this year because of the global crisis we’re living through.

When my office was about to close, we were given a couple days’ notice. I had already been working from home for nearly a week, and was relieved for an excuse to run back to the office and gather a few things. It was quiet. The one coworker I saw, he stayed in his office and I spoke from outside the door. There is a column outside my office, against one of my colleague’s work spaces. When we are working through something, or I have an idea, or a joke I want to share, I often come to that column and lean against it, and talk to her. I leaned against that column, soaking in the feeling of no one being there, and thought, it will never, ever be as it was. Even if she were sitting here - everything will be different. This becomes more clear the longer this all goes on.

So it causes me to think: what does it mean if things will never be the same? Does it mean that I think things will never be good again (cue Bill Gates or whoever saying sporting events are years off)? Does it afford me a chance instead to think about renewal, rather than ending? And do I believe Jesus when he says, “Behold, I make all things new?”

This afternoon I walked by my church - it is Sunday - on the off chance it was open. Hallelujah! It was. I nearly cried. Both, for the opportunity to be close to Jesus, but also because it felt like coming home. Seeing livestreams of my favorite parishes and chapels makes me feel like I am locked out of my own home. And it was just a return to normalcy. I have been frequenting that parish for 6 years now. We have a lot of history together.

P.s. Okay, for a more lighthearted moment, enjoy this rad 80s tune, “Never Be the Same Again,” by Lori Ruso, from the Teen Witch soundtrack. TOP THAT!!

A little bit about conversation!

Last night’s event with Girl Talk on The Art of Conversation was a blast! It was incredibly fun to both share my presentation, but also hear the thoughts of those on the call. It was good to be with people I care about and share something with them.

When the video is ready, I will share it here. In the meantime: two points rose as being of high interest, and I suspect these are of interest to many people: listening, and exiting conversations one does not want to be a part of. They came up enough to make me think that listening needs its own workshop (noodling on it) and that I want to give more thought to the gracefully exiting an unwanted conversation matter.

Because what I designed was based on the act of two people who want to know each other conversing. Even if it is the first time you met. So you start small with basic questions and move on to bigger things, and la di da. Unwanted chat - being cornered at a party, listening to someone complain or brag, being asked “What do you do?” because this is DC after all - these are not conversations. But, yes, it is totally an okay thing to get out of a conversation you have no interest in.

Ultimately, what I stressed was respect and the need to recognize each conversation as an opportunity to truly meet another human being and enter into relationship with them. One guest, a young (probably Dominican) priest in Brooklyn - someone who talks to friends and strangers alike all the time as part of this job - made the point that the people we meet cannot be by accident, or random. That there is arguably a divine design to all our encounters, and in remembering that we recall that the person in front of us is sacred. He was exactly right.

If you’re hankerin’ to get in on some more Laura-teaching-classes action, my (virtual) email etiquette class is still coming up at General Assembly on May 19. Register here!