Lessons Learned

From mid-August of 2018 to the end of May this year, I was living in Boston while studying at the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry. Those ten months were an incredible opportunity for which I can hardly express enough gratitude, and I’m eager to return to Boston in August for the second year of my program for a Master’s in Theological Studies.

Having an overall wonderful year doesn’t mean that challenges didn’t come my way, of course, nor did the many lessons I learned in the classroom didn’t coincide with or reflect teaching moments in my work and social life (what little I had of the latter outside of work and study). In fact, the most valuable wisdom I’ve gained in the past academic year has come through the struggles, albeit comparatively small ones, that I’ve faced in everyday life. The information given in my classes has helped me to better reflect on, understand, and articulate this wisdom; to more humbly and often praise God for it; and to show my gratitude for it more clearly in service to the people around me.

All of these are lofty and noble actions that you’ll encounter in my other posts on this blog and that are pretty fitting for an idealistic student of theology who often has his head in the clouds. I try follow these goals each day as I can. I fail, and I do so quite often. At the same time, I keep trying, and I try my best to learn from my failures as much or even more than my successes. God speaks to me in all experiences of my life, as God does with us all. There is always another lesson to be learned about and from the inexhaustible mystery of God’s love. Below are some such lessons—lighthearted and foundational, sweet and bitter—that have come to me in my time in Boston.

1. Boston drivers are not Wisconsin drivers. This is nearly an impossibility.

Driving in a city means that you’re driving with a lot of other people, and this applies especially to Boston, which is relatively small in terms of area. Roads created in the colonial era add to the problem, even with the construction of straighter and larger roads in more recent history. You have to be aggressive to make a turn, change lanes, and survive in city driving. Boston drivers, even those from other states who have long driven in the city, may simply take this aggression a touch above the necessary amount. If you visit Boston, be prepared for a daily dose of horn-honking and for fearing for your life as a pedestrian and a driver about once a day.

*This lesson also applies to pedestrians, many of whom will simply cross the street where and when it is most convenient for them, even if this means stepping in front of a line of traffic outside of a crosswalk. Believe me: I am guilty of this.

2. Public transportation is a fantastic idea that inevitably has practical problems.

I learned this lesson already during my semester abroad in Spain, where I relied on public transportation to get around Toledo and the other cities and countries to which I traveled. The States, in my experience, have less integration of and appreciation for public transport, so the delays, break-downs, or uncleanliness I occasionally experienced in Europe seem to occur more often in Boston. That being said, though, at least there is a pretty reliable network of buses, trams, and trains that can get you pretty near to most locations in Boston and to many towns and cities outside of it. Wisconsin has very little of this infrastructure, and I hope it and other states invest in public transportation more in the future. If you visit Boston, get yourself a Charlie Ticket or Card for your stay and keep your ears tuned for (or safely buffered against) the trademark squealing of the Green Line of the T.

3. Boston excellently shows the need for and benefits of public libraries.

Go the main branch of the Boston Public Library. Take one of the free hour-long tours there. Gape in awe. Get a BPL card and check out one of the neighborhood branches if you plan on staying in the area. Thank your local librarians. Read a book. Having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card. Thank you.

4. Green space is necessary space.

Boston has a series of parks comprising 1,100 acres and called the Emerald Necklace, in addition to a number of other small parks in other areas of the city. I had four parks within a ten-minute walk of my living space and a running path and park along the Charles River about twenty minutes away. These spaces were refuges to me, not so much because I’m a seasoned, rugged veteran of the outdoors but simply because I’m used to (green) space. Hearing the sound of wind rustling through tree leaves and branches and getting to walk across a big patch of grass and weeds are treasures. Even having turkeys roaming the streets was a delightful (and, yes, terrifying) reminder of my much more rural home, where they do the same thing. Parks are also wonderful because they are public spaces where all sorts of people can interact and relax. I’m glad that Boston has so many of them.

 

5. You can’t do (or eat) it all, and that’s okay.

Like any city, Boston has many sights to see and places to eat, and there is always some festival, convention, or other event going on in the city each day. Even long-time residents cannot do everything there is to do in the city, so don’t set up the expectation for yourself that you’ll do it all in your time there. Focus on what you really like, and try to find events and places related to that interest. At the same time, leave a little space for things that are unique to Boston, such as the Freedom Trail (it’s free!), or hallmarks of it, like clam chowder.

On a personal note, I had to (re)learn that I cannot do everything I’d like to do or am asked to do in my academic, work, and social lives. I have an unhealthy aversion to saying “no” to tasks, asking for help, and simply relaxing. Much of what I have achieved in life has had the desire to be “the best” and the fear of rejection as strong motivations. I’m slowly moving away from these impulses and toward doing things because they interest me or truly help others. I do not have to be and truly cannot be the most skilled or esteemed person in whichever activities I do, but that shouldn’t stop me from partaking in them, enjoying them, or doing my best in them. I have t be mediocre at some (okay, many) things and be grateful for the abilities I have. This shift in perspective will be a lifelong task, and that’s okay. (I also write this with some annoyance that I can’t instantly or ever be perfect. That’s part of the problem I’m addressing!)

6. Life is a game. Not a zero-sum game. A team game, and everyone is on the team.

Building off of the last lesson, each day I have to be reminded that all people, including me, are incalculably valuable and infinitely loved by God beyond anything we do. Someone’s gifts, abilities, or achievements do not take away from my worth, nor do my skills and accomplishments somehow make God love me more or add to my worth. God’s love is overflowing and never-ending: I cannot change that and should not presume that I can change that, though (surprise!) I often do the latter.

What I can and should do is open myself more to God’s infinite love through my practices of prayer in thought, word, and action and let that love flow through me to the people and communities around me. To me, that’s the whole spiritual life in a nutshell and, clearly, a lifelong calling.

Rather than getting jealous, fearful, or self-pitying when I see someone else grow in love for themselves, God, and others, I should rejoice in the joy of that other person and thank God for it. Rather than seeing life as a zero-sum game where I’m competing with all other people for God’s love—a perception I think is all too common—I should open my eyes to the reality that all of us humans and all of us creatures are on the same team with God who wants us to cooperate and flourish in unity (which does not mean uniformity). The more we act on this perspective and foster harmony in our world, the more we all “win,” that is, grow closer to God who is the source of our life.

7. Being petty cheats you of joy.

You know all that lofty language I used in the last lesson? It’s great and I truly believe it, but I often fall short of it. I do get jealous of the gifts, skills, and achievements of others, as well as their friendships. “Why couldn’t I do that?” “Why do they get that?” “Why are they excluding and not paying attention to me?”

When I allow this type of thinking to guide my actions, I end up being remarkably petty: polite and responsive as ever, perhaps, but also bitter, judgmental, and short-tempered. Pettiness isn’t all that remarkable, however. It’s banal, maddeningly so. It corrodes your relationship with other people and with God and robs you of joy in any situation. Pettiness hurts you even more than the people toward whom you direct it. I often realize this lesson even in the midst of my pettiness, and yet I almost as often resist breaking out of the cycle of jealously, self-loathing, and hostility. By the grace of God in my soul, through spiritual direction, and through patient friends and family, I’m getting better at not being petty (though I still find petty memes hilarious and Tom Petty a rock icon). It’s a slow and sometimes painful process, but the less I cling to envy and a prideful self-hatred, the more I cling to God and see myself as I truly am: dependent and frail, sure, but also eternally and infinitely loved.

8. People do care.

In the past year especially, my old friends in Wisconsin and my new friends in Boston have refused to let me believe that I am not loved. They have noticed when I am sad or petty, checked in with me, sent messages or said words of support, and lovingly chastised me when I have acted wrongly. I cannot thank them adequately enough for loving me and in that love holding me accountable to loving myself truly so that I can truly love other people and God.

Like every other person on earth, I deserve love and respect because I am a human being. I am made in the image and likeness of God who is Father, Son, and Spirit and meant for loving relationship with this Trinity and with the people and creatures around me. Unlike many people on earth, I have the privilege of many people in many places actively caring about me and reminding me of my identity as a beloved child of God. In my gratitude for God’s love and recognition that all people should know concretely that they are loved, I hope and pray to better care for others and contribute to a world where each person is actively cared for, affirmed, cherished. Again, this is a lofty goal that I must strive for (and that I often fall short of) in daily life. Thank God for the friends helping me with it.

9. God is with us, and that’s a cause for joy.

Even when I mess up and feel the temptation to hate myself, God remains with me and loves me, as She does with all people and all of creation. It is us who close ourselves off or try to hide from God; God’s love for us never lessens. During hardship or after failure, then, we can find strength, comfort, and even some joy in the presence of the living God who understands our faults and struggles, particularly because of Jesus Christ, true human and true God.

In spiritual direction this year, I have been gently guided toward greater delight in myself and in the world, in appreciating myself and other people as who they are where they are—flaws, warts, virtues, trials, and all. Rather than trying to fix other people or hating myself for having flaws, I can instead find joy in who God made us to be, recognize God’s presence with us even in our failures, and enter more deeply into relationship with God and others. Delight is an invitation and pathway into this deeper relationship, and it is in loving relationship that we grow in virtue and are freer to be the best versions of ourselves. I’m delighted to be learning this lesson a bit more each day.

10. Ice cream in Boston is not as good as ice cream in Wisconsin.

Sorry, Bostonians: this one is a plain and simple fact. Boston and its environs have a number of ice cream shops serving up tasty frozen desserts, and I’ll probably write about my favorites on this blog later this summer. However, Wisconsin ice creameries by and large beat them out in my book in terms of quality and affordability. That’s the most tea (er, milkshake?) I’ll pour about Boston.

 

There you have it, readers: ten lessons from my time in Boston. These don’t exhaust what I learned by any means, but I think they nonetheless provide a nice summary of the wisdom I’ve been gifted in the past ten months. Thank you, as always, for reading, and God bless you.

Carded

Depending on your age and personality, you may find it annoying or delightful to have a waiter, bartender, or cashier ask for your ID when you buy a drink. As someone who was asked if he wanted the kids’ menu at restaurants until he was sixteen, I tend to bristle a little bit when I’m carded. I now realize how smart kids’ meals are in term of cost and portion size, though. (Thank you, Culver’s, for not imposing an age limit on your kids’ menu and providing a token for a scoop of free custard with it.) Maybe I’ll appreciate being asked for my ID for a drink more in the future.

There is another way of being carded that I’m always grateful to experience: getting a card or letter in the mail from friends and family. Words matter a lot to me, whether verbal or written: among the five love languages described by Gary Chapman, words of affirmation are how I feel most comfortable showing and receiving appreciation and affection. (If you’d like to find out how you give and receive love most often, you can take a quiz on the Chapman’s website.) When I want to let someone know I am grateful for them, love them, or support them in a difficult time, then, sending a card (often with a pun) seems natural to me. In the same vein, when another person takes the time to write me a letter or a card, especially when it’s out of the blue, it means a lot to me, because it signals to me that this person really cares about me.

The day before I flew to Wisconsin for a summer break after my first year of graduate studies at Boston College, three friends gifted me with a thank-you card (with a pun!). The day before that, I received another card from a staff member of the community where I lived during the academic year. These cards, and the words of care and appreciation spoken to me by other friends in days leading up to my flight, meant so much to me. When I write that people gifted me with these cards, I truly mean that these were gifts, presents of time, energy, and attention. These gifts confirmed that I have another home in Boston when I return there in August.

Before I leave any place for an extended period, I like to give notes to the people and communities I’m leaving to show them my thanks. This year, between finals and other responsibilities, I didn’t have the time to write as many notes as I wanted to, and of those I did give many were typed rather than hand-written.

Catholic guilt is a reality for me, so I felt and feel some pangs of guilt for not getting to these notes. At the same time, my “failure” has been an opportunity to recognize and accept my limits and also to better notice and appreciate how other people like to give and receive care. Many people show appreciation through a hug or a gift, and some people like to be shown appreciation with a small gift or time together. It’s great that I know how I best give and receive love and can ask for words of affirmation; it’s even better to be sensitive to how other people best give and receive love.

The Golden Rule given by Jesus in Matthew 7:12 and in many other religious traditions tells us to treat others as we would like to be treated. More than strictly acting toward others in the ways that we like, the ways that make us feel most comfortable or that we think are best, I believe that this rule is both more basic and more complex. It’s more basic in calling us to love each other, since love is what completes and fulfills us as people made in the image of the God who is love (1 John 4:8). It’s more complex in calling us to understand and approach each person in their particularity, that is, their background, their hopes, and their struggles and the way these and other factors influence how they think of, show, and receive love.

Each person is unique, so there are numerous ways of showing and giving love. Whenever we give love, though, we will be paying attention to and honoring someone as who they are. This isn’t a one-and-done task. It’s a calling we must hear and answer every day of our lives. It’s certainly one I hope to more consistently and joyfully heed this summer.

To all of you who have encouraged and cared for me in words written, spoken, and prayed; in hugs and high-fives; or in thoughtful gifts or actions, thank you. Your love, support, and gratitude mean a great deal to me, and I hope and pray that you are shown care and encouragement, too.

Now, back to enjoying some ice cream, something I thankfully never have and hopefully never will be carded for. God bless you, readers, and thank you. ~