The Catholic Virginian

January 23, 2012 | Volume 87, Number 6

ABOUT US

Will return in the nest issue

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Superstition can take a strong hold on people

by Mary Hood Hart

I’m writing this on Friday the 13th. I have never been superstitious about this day or the number 13.

I have absolutely no anxiety. I like to think I’m not superstitious at all, but then I recall some of my distorted thinking, and I realize that superstition creeps into my thoughts even when I would prefer it didn’t.

Although we perceive ourselves as sophisticated and civilized, some of our more primitive roots seem to manifest themselves through superstition, whether it be “knocking on wood” or burying a statue of St. Joseph in the yard to ensure a real estate sale.

In my case, when my adult children are about to set off on a car trip, I feel compelled to tell them: “Be safe.” The words themselves seem to ensure their protection from harm.

If I don’t say these words, or others like them, I feel as if my loved ones are more likely to encounter trouble. Over the years, my children have come to understand that my admonition to “be safe” is less concern for their being reckless or accident prone and more a ritual of parting.

When my children were younger, I associated my level of worry and concern about their welfare with how likely it would be that they were protected. When I worried, I perceived my children bubble-wrapped in my protective thoughts.

If I was oblivious, unconcerned, or distracted, I perceived my children as vulnerable to harm. This way of thinking is unrealistic, superstitious. Yet I found it painful to acknowledge my powerlessness over their welfare when they were apart from me.

If I couldn’t be physically present, then my thoughts (i.e., worries) would have to do.

Some would perceive my behavior on a jet about to take off as superstitious. When the plane begins to move on the runway, silently I begin to pray the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary” until the plane is in the air.

Some might say I superstitiously believe my prayers will have power to assure a safe take-off. While I admit there may be a deep-seated element of superstition in my motivation, my reason for praying is not to ensure safety but to alleviate my anxiety about take-off and put me in a more God-centered state of mind.

I make a conscious effort to avoid superstitious thinking as it is presented through e-mails with admonitions to say certain prayers and forward the e-mail to your friends.

These e-mails either assure good fortune to those who follow the prescription, or they suggest misfortune will befall those who “lack the courage” to send the e-mail.

I find it ironic that these e-mails suggest courage is required to forward them to everyone in my address book. My view, however, is that these e-mails are cowardly and exhibit a lack of trust in God’s goodness. If I don’t follow the e-mail’s prescription, the sender suggests I am too cowardly to acknowledge my faith in God.

However, I think it’s much more courageous to delete the e-mail and reply to the sender explaining why I believe the e-mail is superstitious, possibly even blasphemous.

Ultimately, the true test of whether I am thinking superstitiously or not is how much I trust God. If I think that I am capable of assuring a positive outcome simply by saying words, performing rituals, or thinking thoughts, then I am giving myself Godlike power.

However, if I am able to let go of my attempts to control and, instead, place my welfare and the welfare of my loved ones in God’s hands, I am entrusting the outcome to God’s providence.

In the end, my words, actions, and thoughts don’t assure a good outcome. God’s love and mercy do.

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A year in review

by Barbara Hughes

I’ve never been a fan of the expression, “Out with the old, in with the new” because it seems to promote a false reality.

The saying seems to minimize the past, ignore the present and suggests that the future exists in isolation. Nothing could be further from the truth, a point that came clear as my husband Mike and I begin the transition from community life with the Franciscans on the West Coast back to our home in Norfolk.

I suppose it’s only natural that I find myself reflecting on the past year and our experience as Covenant members, but as I do so it occurred to me that while each person’s experiences are uniquely their own, looking back helps us harvest insights gleaned from blessings, challenges and even failures of the past.

And so, regardless of what the past year has been like for you, the month of January seems an appropriate time to review last year since the past has a lot to do with the way we embrace, or resist, the future.

As people of faith, this has even greater significance because every moment is filled with grace and so a little self analysis can be helpful.

As I reflect on the past year, and the experiences and relationships that made our stay at Old Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside, California and on the Indian reservation in Topawa, Arizona memorable, I can better appreciate how deeply connected we are as members of the human family.

It matters little whether the community is our family, parish, the workplace or neighborhood. The way we interact with others tells us a lot about who we are.

Jean Vanier, founder of the L’Arche Community, wrote that living in community is a source of conflict.

He points out that we are taught from early on to be first, to win, to get ahead, but when we suddenly feel that Jesus is calling us to go down the ladder by sharing our life, putting ourselves at the service of others, we are conflicted, particularly when those we are called to embrace are poor, marginalized or whose culture or values are different from our own.

I am reminded of the words of M. Scott Peck who wrote that community cannot be built, but happens when people roll up their sleeves and work side by side. Mike and I discovered this while living and working with the Franciscan friars and lay volunteers.

When the focus becomes other-directed, community happens. As we found ourselves praying, working, laughing and sometimes crying together, we were being changed.

When we first arrived at Topawa, it seemed Mike and I had little in common with the Native Americans among whom we lived, but as we got to know them, a common thread began to emerge. Regardless of our circumstances, we all long to love and to be loved.

The day after we arrived, I was asked to facilitate an Advent Retreat for the friars and Native American lay leaders who serve the 40-plus villages that make up the San Solano Missions.

That may sound like a lot of people, but it’s only two Franciscan priests, three brothers, a deacon and about 10 lay people. I was apprehensive about saying “yes” since I wasn’t sure I understood the culture well enough to preside over a retreat, but as it turned out giving the retreat was a blessing. Not only did it give me a chance to get to know the people, but it helped them get to know me.

Not having a lot of time to prepare, I drew from talks I had given in years past to very different audiences.

The response of the group reaffirmed what I had suspected: East, West, rich or poor, we are all very much alike when externals are stripped away.

When we share from our vulnerability, we minister to one another and discover with St. Paul that “in weakness, power reaches perfection.”

As it turned out, the retreat served as a springboard for a ministry of listening. I might be in the laundry room, the office or walking on the mission grounds, and someone would ask to talk.

As they shared their lives, they would begin to connect the dots and discover God’s presence amid the darkness. Unbeknownst to them, their sharing calls me to deeper self-awareness. I realize that when I am stressed or fatigued, the forces of darkness, hatred and self-centeredness rear their heads with little provocation.

When it becomes all about me and my opinions, community calls me to grow into the person that God is calling me to become.

None of us are the same person we were last year. We are continually being shaped by people and experiences within the context of community.

Suffice it to say that community should never be about belonging. Community is about becoming because the only person we belong to is the One who is calling us into communion.

Perhaps, as we go forward in 2012, a motto to embrace might be: “Value the past, live in the present and entrust the future to Emmanuel, God with us, not just during the Christmas season but all year long.”

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