Learning The Rules
I’m a voracious consumer of podcasts. Good podcasters can do with their voices what is difficult to do even in face-to-face conversation: make the listeners feel special, intelligent and on this journey of discovery right alongside them – not behind them.
My favorite weekly podcast is “Revisionist History” by Malcolm Gladwell, a Canadian journalist who writes for the “New Yorker” magazine. Not only is Gladwell a master storyteller, but he speaks with vivacity, fascination and conviction; he’s truly invested in the ideas he shares.
On a recent podcast episode, Gladwell decided to discuss his rules for life – an idea he got from clinical psychologist and author Jordan Peterson, whose recent book “12 Rules for Life” has started a trend among journalists and thought leaders: write your own 12 rules. Most lists contain a mixture of serious and somewhat silly rules that, when taken together, give readers an idea of what this person is … about.
After reading Peterson’s book and listening to Gladwell’s podcast, I sat down to take a shot at my own 12 rules, feeling a little cheesy but hopeful that the exercise would be a good opportunity for reflection – to evaluate my current priorities and see what standards I’ve used so often that they popped into my mind immediately.
After tinkering with my list a bit, I found that my rules fell into roughly three categories: spirituality/virtue (“Derive your sustenance from prayer and the sacraments,” “Do not confuse mercy with permissiveness”); routine (“Eat a sweet in the morning – you have all day to burn it off”); and social (“Never leave a party knowing less about your conversation partners than they know about you”).
While writing my rules started out a bit whimsically, I realized that even my most mundane rules were derived from experiences that informed my relationship with Jesus (except maybe for that dessert one … though I do thank Jesus for dessert pretty often). I adopted Rule 3 (“Don’t give any earthly thing so much space in your life that you associate it with most circumstances”) upon examining my inordinate attachments and beginning the intentional fight against them. I imported Rule 9 (“Call people by their names – everyone likes to feel special in this way”) from my dad, who has inspired me since I was a shy young thing with the way he spreads God’s unique love for each person even to perfect strangers.
In writing each rule (again, except maybe for that dessert one), I could point to the moment in which Jesus brought me to a new place – usually a dark and challenging one – and showed me how to persevere through it. And not in some abstract way, but a way so concrete that I could distill it into a maxim and recall multiple moments I have let that wisdom guide me.
Thus, what started as a fun way to think about my personality quickly became a meditation upon the ways that God has used the circumstances of my life to live more wholeheartedly, wisely, peacefully and lovingly. Loving God doesn’t divorce us from life; on the contrary, it guides us down the path of living life to the utmost. As St. Irenaeus said, “the glory of God is man fully alive.”
Today, I encourage you to sit down in a comfy chair with a cup of tea and think about your own rules – the ones that Jesus has taught you. The ones you needed to know as part of your specific history, among your specific challenges, to unite with Him ever more fully – even if you didn’t realize the work He was accomplishing in your soul at the time. Let us thank Jesus for working in the circumstances of our lives – even ordering those circumstances -- to become His more every day, making it possible for us to live my favorite quotation, from Thomas Merton: “For me to be a saint means to be myself.”
