Tu Es Vita

The people we interact with on a daily basis are bound to do or say things that annoy us. Whether that’s because of a difference in temperament or real character flaws, these little abrasions are inevitable. St. Theresa of the Child Jesus compared them to the tiny pricks of needles on our skin which often happen while sewing. They’re not serious grievances, yet they can test our patience and even put us in a bad mood if we don’t learn to handle them properly. 

One common gut reaction is to try and correct the offenders, especially if they’re close relatives or friends. That’s not how you do it, we may exclaim abruptly after witnessing an elderly parent fumble with their phone in an attempt to make a call, and snatch it out of their hands without letting them finish. Stop speaking so loudly, we may blurt out at family get-together when our over-the-top cousin excitedly tells a story in a voice several decibels too high for comfort. Can’t you do it any faster? we may say with a roll of the eyes to an overly meticulous friend who is trying to cut the cheese into perfect cubes for a dinner party. 

Yes, all of these people may be doing things in a way that is less than desirable.They may even make things less efficient and more cumbersome for others. Then again, they may just be doing things in a way that you don’t like or don’t understand. 

It’s easy to think that our corrections, comments and suggestions are helpful and in the interest of making things smoother and more agreeable to everyone. We may even feel entitled to saying our piece, as if we had a great store of wisdom that should rightly be dished out to those less fortunate. We make all sorts of excuses for why our interventions are justified and good. 

But are we really doing what’s best for others? Or are we just serving ourselves? 

A recurring theme in the writings of saints and spiritual authors is that of being careful about hidden motives in the interior life. Our selfish desires and impulses are so clever that they like to hide under the pretense of good and holy inspirations. How many times do we make lofty-sounding excuses for doing things that are really motivated by our disordered passions? 

I know I’m guilty of this. It doesn’t always have to be a big thing. Sometimes I prolong my afternoon nap unnecessarily under the pretext that “it’s important to get enough rest in a balanced life”. Most of the time, it’s actually just sloth. Other times I have a second-helping of dessert when I’m already full because “it’s rude to say no when a host offers you something”. Really, it’s gluttony doing the talking. Get my point? Life is full of these deceptions and we have to get good at unmasking them if we’re going to make progress in our spiritual lives. 

So how is this relevant to our topic? My point is that when we offer unsolicited corrections to others, it can often be motivated by the selfish desire to control people and things so that everything goes in a way that suits us. We make ourselves the center of the world and expect everyone to conform to our every whim. But we don’t admit that’s what we’re doing. We tell ourselves we’re just giving helpful advice to others for their betterment and progress. 

Don’t get me wrong. There are cases when it is our duty to offer corrections. For example, if we are a superior, we must instruct and correct those entrusted to our care. A father needs to help his children mature into well-balanced adults. An abbot needs to carefully chisel away at his monks’ imperfections to turn them into saints. 

There are also cases when we may truly be motivated by charity to help a friend or a relative with a well-placed comment. This is especially true if we’re being asked for advice by someone who trusts us and cares about our opinion. Even then, it’s important to be delicate with our suggestions and to remember that we may be wrong in our advice even when our motivations are good. 

I think a wise rule of thumb to keep in mind is that if our comments and suggestions are abrupt, extemporaneous, and accompanied by feelings of annoyance or resentment, we can be sure our motivations are not good. If we recognize the movements of impatience in our souls, it’s probably best to take a deep breath and avoid saying anything rash in the passion of the moment. 

These are actually the perfect occasions to practice two very important virtues: patience and charity. 

First of all, by resisting the impatient impulses bubbling up in our souls, we learn to accept that we are not the center of the world after all. In fact, we can better appreciate that it is God who is the center of the world, and that He arranges things in the best way possible, even if we don’t understand the dispositions of His Providence. 

Perhaps God enjoys our cousin’s loud enthusiasm or our friend’s meticulous cheese cutting. Better yet, maybe He thinks we need these things in our life. After all, if everything always went our way, how would the little tyrant in us die to make space for the saint who is fit for Heaven? 

Secondly, these occasions of annoyance are great opportunities to love and encourage those who surround us. Often, we are the ones most acutely aware of our own defects. Instead of being reminded of them by others, how pleasantly surprised would we be to receive a smile and a kind word instead? We can be that smile and kind word for others. We can be gentle instead of harsh, forgiving instead of resentful, patiently silent instead of impatiently critical.

The heroic charity of the saints may seem mysterious to us if we fail to realize that many of them worked up to it through small, continuous acts of the will in their daily lives. They had annoying relatives, friends and neighbors, religious brothers and sisters. They too had to learn the subtle art of mundane, commonplace charity. They were tested again and again. And they triumphed. 

Everyday grievances are like little gems waiting to be mined by skillful extractors. We can be those labourers if we only learn to see these unlikely treasures that God has strewn across our path. With time we may, perhaps, discover a supernatural joy in the situations that once caused us only annoyance. We may even come to relish the fact we are not the center of the world. And if we arrive at such a state, who could stop us then?