Humility --> Greatness

Often in my life, I feel disappointment because I hold myself and those around me to high standards. I have high expectations of everything, as I seek the best out of it all. I want everyone and everything to live up to its/their potential. And I am affected, though usually just briefly, when it/they do not.

This morning at Mass, I had a moment. We had a visiting priest, a Jesuit, saying Mass. He did one of my liturgical no-no's by pre-homilizing the readings before the opening rites of the Mass. He added, too, that he was in for the Lenten retreat at the parish and promised a bigger plug in the homily - here we go, I thought... Not only do I prefer to let the readings stand for themselves then be reflected upon in the homily, I also am turned away from preachers who enter into self-promotion, especially during the Mass, longing to just reach the Eucharist and get past their jibber-jabber.

I enjoyed the readings - the offering to God in Deuteronomy, the consolation of Psalm 91, the temptations of Jesus in the desert. Then we reached the homily. Rather than unpack the connections between an offering to the Lord and the challenges by the devil in the desert, the priest launched into general story time. Granted this is a natural and suitable rhetorical strategy, but his canned narratives and jabs for humor distracted from the call to solidarity with Christ in the desert of Lent. So while three crosses stood behind the altar and our crucifix hung behind a purple sheet, Fr. What's-his-name went off wherever he wanted.

I could deal with that, and his eventual point was a good one, the best one maybe: God is Love. I happily digested it, but it became one of those homilies that could have ended five different times. So I receded into personal-prayer-land while he finished up. Eventually, he moved from the ambo to his presider's chair, and this is when I got steamed.

He told us, "Father wanted me to end Mass a few minutes early today to avoid a parking lot jam, so we'll just offer the Creed up to God and move right into the petitions. Trust me; He won't mind."

Ooooooooooooo no he didn't.

First of all, we simply don't skip the Creed on Sundays and feasts - at least give a brother the Apostles' Creed. Secondly, we have time for your rambling homily but not time to profess together the tenets of our faith!? Your stories outrank our shared prayer that reinforces our baptismal vows and grounds us in the center of our beliefs!?

With a little organization and a dose of humility, he could have easily tightened his homily, making just the same points, getting the same laughs, and creating a similar rapport with the parish yet still allow time for the rest of the Mass. I was internally fired up that one person could count his own speech as more important than the movements of the Mass.

This reality has been a growing frustration for me, and it deepens when I find myself being vain and the expense of humility, choosing improvisation or a bit of planning. Personally, I feel my attention to detail, my ability to plan ahead, and my foresight to be negatively affected by California/the Coachella Valley and working in a high school. The culture here is more laid back and last-minute, which does not translate to good planning or accountability. I'm not black-balling improvisation, but we improvise best when it comes from a decent basis of preparation.

This past week, my contribution to our all-school Ash Wednesday service - a short reflection on fasting - was formulated in the hour before and given extemporaneously, without notes, an outline, or anything typed out. My talk was fine; I received compliments on it. However, I was dissatisfied with my lack of preparation and am never content to be just good, to not strive for greatness.

This same vein of frustration bubbled up on the last retreat I directed, too. My student leaders were pretty solid in preparing their talks, deeply vulnerable in sharing tough stories, and incredibly poised yet real in their delivery. To a person, my faculty colleagues' talks were insightful, vulnerable, and honest. Yet, to a person, their talks were too long, disjointed at points, and put together in the last moments.

The reality is that the quality of their talks was totally there, but the talks were not as focused and directed as they could have been, which added unnecessary length. Unfortunately, the casualty of that extra length was small-group conversation time. A bit more time spent in preparations could have increased the quality, decreased the quantity, and allowed small groups the full allotted time they deserved to unpack what was shared well by these adults so that the small groups might reflect in community.

I've seen this also with musicians. I can't attest to this personally, as my guitar skills are rudimentary, but people I know who can sight-read are content to rely upon their spontaneous ability rather than practice. Instead of sitting down and spending quality time with a sheet of music, these somewhat accomplished musicians are content to plunk out some chords and throw in a passing note here and there rather than really play the song. Again, it comes out as good to the ears but falls way short of great. Such playing settles for decent rather than seeking to be awesome. Chalk it up to doing a lot decently rather a few things really well, to being spread a mile wide but only going an inch deep...

I had a colleague last week hit a wall in his teaching of Latin class - he usually sight-translates the texts of Latin stories to his classes but finally met something he couldn't convert on the fly. To his credit, he sat down, thought over it carefully, and took to the Internet, insistent upon finding an answer. A few minutes at a Google search and the scouring of message boards helped him unlock the mystery. The time he took nourished his intellectual side and inflamed his curiosity. He settled the grammar dispute and exuded a sense of gentle joy and accomplishment over taking some time to polish his craft.

I think we need to recommit to the greatness. Why are we so content to be just good? Why do basketball players settle for shooting 50% from the free-throw line and then just chuck 3's during shootarounds? Why do leave our cars crooked in the parking-lot, settling for being between the yellow lines rather than giving equal room to the cars on both sides of us? Why do we avoid desserts or pop for a week then binge on a dessert tray or refill our cup over and over with free refills? Why do we go to Mass three weeks in a row then take a few Sundays off?

What's stopping you from greatness in using your gifts from God? What stands in the way of your forming a closer relationship with Christ? Journey into the desert. Confront temptation. Take courage and stand up as Christ calls you to Him.