Breaking In The Habit

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Not exactly.

While there certainly exists differences in “taste” or “preference” from person to person, few people actually think that Beauty is an entirely relative concept. Certain things are just objectively more Beautiful than others. When comparing a landfill to the Alps, there is no contest: clearly, without controversy, the Alps have more Beauty.

And so, if you accept this, accepting that there are at least extreme limits and some quality by which we can objectively evaluate, then it makes me (and Tito, and philosophers) wonder: might there be a way to refine this a bit further to evaluate art on a level beyond the pure subjective? Might there be a sense in which Beauty is not simply dependent on what we say about it, but having some innate quality in itself?

Br. Tito and I take on this age-old question in our season finale of Everyday Liminality. We hope that you enjoyed the second season and will join us again in the fall when we start back!

A few months ago, I posted a video entitled, “What Happens When We Get Old?” a reflection on having retirement houses for men who have served the Church their entire lives. I pointed out that, even though unable to engage in active ministry, these men were still friars and continued to live as the rest of the active friars do, praying, eating, and communing together as a fraternity. Regardless of their ability, they’re still brothers.

What I didn’t mention in that video, though,  is how this is all possible.

In this week’s “A Friar Life,” I present Br. Bob Frazetta, OFM, the guardian of that house, to show that not all of friar life is focused outwards. Sometimes, the ministry of a brother is to the brothers. Br. Bob spends his entire day making sure that this life is still possible for our elderly brothers, taking care of the bills, organizing recreation, leading prayer, and shuttling the brothers to where they need to go.

As you can imagine, it is not the most glamorous of positions; guys don’t exactly join the friars for this job. And yet, it is a critical part of our lives. Sometimes, we are called to do what is not glamorous, what is not popular, what will not make us “liked” by the outside world, but to simply serve our brothers who have served so many. As much as we think of the friars as out saving the world, it wouldn’t be possible without men like Br. Bob working internally.

And for that, we thank him.

These are surreal times, they are. I am in quite the liminal state, passing between what seems to be entirely different lives. For the past couple of month, I have felt caught between two worlds: the world of formation with the friars and the world of being a priest. With each new day passing, part of the previous world passes away, and part of the new world comes into focus. For someone that naturally lives in the future and moves on quickly, the last few months have been especially difficult to keep my feet on the ground in the present moment.

On Tuesday, the ground disappeared. We have reached full liminal state here.

You see, on Tuesday, I finished my last day of class. Ever. I am no longer a student of any school, and I have no intention of ever returning in the future. As I write this, in fact, the students of my former school are gathering for graduation… as I make one final exercise of protest, sitting in my room writing, editing a video, and packing rather than attending.

Yeah. I’m done with school. And you can’t make me go to graduation.

For the next three weeks (and undoubtedly a few months thereafter as my paperwork for faculties awaits processing…) I will find myself without a clear identity, without a direct purpose, and, interestingly enough, without a home. No longer a student, not yet a priest; no longer a resident of Chicago, not yet moved in to Georgia. It’s a weird state to be in. While what I share in this video is a lot of excitement, I can’t say that I’m exactly giddy, nor am I nervous. After a long semester, a long year, a long 8 years in formation… I find myself a bit tired, and a bit unsure.

Not unsure of my vocation. No, not that. Just unsure of what I should be doing in this exact moment. Being in between two worlds, I have a (literal) pile of things that need taken care of immediately (packing, cleaning, editing videos) and yet nothing pressing at all; being in between two worlds, I don’t really have any serious responsibilities to take care of, which means that I have nothing to keep me sharp and on point. Maybe I’ll edit a video… or maybe I’ll just lie on my bed in the midst of a half-torn-apart room and take a nap.

(Which is, by the way, why the next “A Friar Life” may not be ready tomorrow. Just warning you.)

I’m happy and excited about a door closing in my life, happy and excited about a door soon to open, but find myself in between, tired and a bit apathetic. And I’m okay with that. Over the next month before ordination, I will wrap up things in this house, move my stuff into my new house, take a few weeks vacation, and take a week of silent retreat. I will undoubtedly pull back my social media activity in that time (although not entirely), and hope, after my liminal cocoon, be back this summer a somewhat different person.

Peace and good to everyone!

For those who have followed me from the beginning, you know that my Franciscan journey has been one of managing my idealistic notion of what this life should be with what I (and my brothers) are actually capable of. I have chosen to speak about this much less in recent years, partially because the issues are no longer new, partially because the mission of Breaking in the Habit has changed, and partially… because the idealism of the beginning has been replaced with acceptance, for better or for worse.

Such is the case for us all, I guess.

But just because I don’t talk about my struggles of living this life as much—keeping my disappointments and aspirations a bit more hidden—doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. On a regular basis, if I am honest with myself, I find that I am a complete letdown to the life that St. Francis began (not to the Order as it exists today. There is a big difference.)

That’s not to say that there isn’t some hope in this still. Even as I fall short, I still find myself further along the path than I was or would have been without this life. And for that, I continue.

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In a previous episode, Br. Tito and I discussed the power of death as a form of tragedy in art and entertainment. This week, we’re taking a different approach: how death leads to rebirth and new life. While it is the central theme of our own faith as Christians, we are not alone in finding meaning in this story; this trope is all throughout the history of storytelling.

There’s just something about coming back from the dead, returning to finish the mission after we’ve been left behind, and dying to self to become a new person that inspires us all.

And even though these story tellers may not have Christ in mind, we, as Christians, can see Christ in these works and have our faith renewed. In works like The Dark Knight Rises, Harry Potter, and even The Truman Show (it’s related, trust me), Christ can be found for those willing to see.