Reflection

by Joe Stranix

Hi, my name is Joe, and I am a compulsive planner.  It’s an addiction—one I know can be a problem but I can’t yet convince myself needs to be abandoned.  I plan my courses, I plan my day, I plan my life.  I map out grad school opportunities, job opportunities, research opportunities.  I plan trips I want to take, trips I can’t afford but someday want to go on, trips home, trips other people are taking, and trips for work.  Even my job title—Programme Coordinator—is just a euphemism for “professional planner.”

As a friend put it to me the other day, I have plans, back-up plans, alternate plans, and then ideas in case none of them work out.  I am constantly reformulating in order to keep plans on track, people on track, and myself on track.  I compulsively make to-do lists, and then proceed to lose those to-do lists.  For years, I’ve planned everything imaginable, and continue planning even after friends remind me that old plans fell through.  Even though I’ve moved in unpredictable directions over the past 20 years, there is something comforting about trying to plan out the future.

This Wednesday we receive Ashes and begin the Lenten season.  Lent – a season of solemn penance and preparation for the death and resurrection of the Lord.  As a season of preparation, you might think that it would be wonderful for a compulsive planner like myself.  I can plan what I want to give up this season, plan the additions to my life in an attempt to bring myself closer to God, plan for the upcoming joyous resurrection.  In theory, that might be true.  In practice, so very false.

As the Woody Allen quote goes, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”  While this seems perfectly applicable to life, it seems even more applicable to faith life.  In my experience, you can plan and execute your actions, but planning a religious experience is a laughable notion.  Even the best of intentions can go unfulfilled.  And that’s often how Lent can go for me.  I reflect, I abstain, and I try to improve my prayer life.  I try and try, searching for a personal connection with God, looking for a moving experience, getting frustrated when one doesn’t come.

I was raised in a family that rarely discussed religion, and so I was in shock when I came to Notre Dame and encountered so many people who had an open and personal relationship with their faith.  To this day I am astounded by my friends, classmates, and colleagues who can give themselves so fully in prayer, because it’s what I struggle to do on a daily basis.  That environment can be an intimidating one in which to come to grips with your faith.  I would ask myself why it was difficult for me, and yet so natural for them.  In that sense, Lent is a reminder of the struggle, because you can’t plan your way to true reflection and penance.

Every Lent is a renewed challenge to become closer to God, the Church, and my Catholicism.  I struggle with it, and I don’t think that is a bad thing.  It’s good that I can’t instinctively plan my way into a sincere faith.  For me, Lent is the reminder that faith is about the journey to God.  It is the reminder to focus on my faith and acknowledge to myself that it isn’t possible for it to be perfect.  What is important is to put effort into it, and remember that there will be an ebb and flow to it.  It isn’t a problem that has a solution, an idea to resolve and then move on.  When I don’t feel the connection to God, it is a reminder to get back to basics, to pray, and to spend some time with God.  I won’t always feel his presence, but that is part of the challenge of being faithful.  While I might not enjoy the challenge, I know it is good for me.  I know that the effort needed makes sure that I truly reflect and think about things.  I trust that in the long run it will lead to a deeper faith.

In today’s Gospel we heard Jesus say “Therefore I tell you, all that you ask for in prayer, believe that you will receive it and it shall be yours.”  He never said it was easy to believe that you will receive it, but if we believe, it shall be ours.  We might struggle in faith, but it is when we believe that the greatest things are possible.  And reaching that point is worth our effort.

So this Lent, I will give up sweets and caffeine, but I will also focus on the consistent reminder that Lent presents.  I will renew my focus on my journey, and attempt a more consistent prayer life, making the effort I know that I need.  At least that’s my plan.