Pam
06-09-2003, 08:30 AM
This article caught my eye because of recent discussions about some of our members dealing with being out of work. As always, take what you need, and leave the rest :thumbsup:
From: Spirituality & Health Magazine
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/items/article/item_5868.html
Issue: March-April 2003
Out-of-Work Spirituality
MaryEllen O'Brien
Much has been written in recent years about the spirituality of work. But what about the spirituality of that other time one hardly dares mention, when bills mount, unemployment benefits recede (and they aren't enough to live on anyway, even with radical simplicity), or panic approaches? This is my time, and I find myself asking, where is Spirit, Holy Spirit, in this?
This time is equal parts tedium and faith-shaking. I have always had stable work. And with my first advanced degree in theology in hand, I had the privilege of publishing a book — but as writers know, it's rare for a book to make significant money. Freelance writing, speaking, and leading retreats is fulfilling, but spotty. I needed more permanent work. I'd like to teach theology at a university, so it was time to continue with doctoral studies.
And with a sigh of relief last summer, it looked as if everything would work out. I found a job in my field that was interesting and flexible enough to accommodate my studies. My grown son had recently moved out on his own. Then the rug was pulled out from under me. In a perplexing swirl of politics, the job vanished, and I was out of work and without a net.
I would have to simplify my already simple life. The car had to go. My car! This left me grieving. I had to withdraw from courses. A leave of absence before I even started. Next up: the rent. How could I stay positive, sane, and spiritually healthy?
I thought of Job in the Hebrew Scriptures. Job was a good and just man who did nothing wrong and still lost everything. His friends, at first supportive, became impatient in time, and accused him of having done evil to cause his misfortune. Yet he held his faith even in the blinding days of loss, and fell silent in the face of his own suffering. Eventually the smoke cleared, and his life was restored many times over. But in the midst of dark days, he did not know that restoration was ahead.
Stories heal. They strengthen us, and we need that, because like Job, we may encounter insensitive remarks such as, "I can't believe someone with your education and gifts can't find work!" Implying, like Job's friends of old, that it must be my fault. I mustn't be doing enough; I must be too picky. But my search is relentless and broad, given my dual-career past. I must protect myself from negativity by being more selective in choosing confidants.
How can I know whether God is redirecting me (if so, please enlighten me, God!), or whether it's negativity seeking to derail me? Or, is it just the woof and warp of life? Scriptures teach us that what some intend for evil, God will transform into good. Discernment is important, and for that I have sought the help of holy and wise others, including a spiritual director.
I make an effort to get up and out, to get some fresh air. I seek the company of positive people, and pray and meditate. Now I pray only for God's will, and to be useful, and I have extended those prayers outward, asking others to pray for me. I've dusted off practices like novenas, invoking St. Jude, patron of impossibile situations! I am no longer too sophisticated for this. These ancient forms of prayer, after all, are really meditative in their repetition, and they simply call on holy men and women who have died to pray for us from the other side. It is like the "second na•vetˇ" of which scholar Paul Ricoeur wrote. These prayers calm me, and foster hope.
I maintain structure in my life. I rise early and light candles and incense for comfort and to evoke the sacred. I try to eat right. I willingly extend myself every day in the search for work.
I remind myself to acknowledge each day's good things — practicing gratitude. And I must practice generosity of spirit. A friend pointed this out when I got indignant with those who have never been unemployed and say unthinking things. She said, "This is where you have to be generous to them."
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," we chanted as children. Down, but not out. With grace and gratitude, I will find my way forward and extend myself to others experiencing this uncertainty.
May your way be fruitful and full of joy in unexpected places. And while you're at it, say a prayer for me!
MaryEllen O'Brien is the author of Living Well and Dying Well: A Sacramental View of Life and Death (Sheed & Ward, 2001). She has an M.A. in theology and a B.A. in religious studies, lives in Chicago where the public transportation is great, and is beginning doctoral studies at Loyola University. You can contact her at mobrienchi@ameritech.net.
From: Spirituality & Health Magazine
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/items/article/item_5868.html
Issue: March-April 2003
Out-of-Work Spirituality
MaryEllen O'Brien
Much has been written in recent years about the spirituality of work. But what about the spirituality of that other time one hardly dares mention, when bills mount, unemployment benefits recede (and they aren't enough to live on anyway, even with radical simplicity), or panic approaches? This is my time, and I find myself asking, where is Spirit, Holy Spirit, in this?
This time is equal parts tedium and faith-shaking. I have always had stable work. And with my first advanced degree in theology in hand, I had the privilege of publishing a book — but as writers know, it's rare for a book to make significant money. Freelance writing, speaking, and leading retreats is fulfilling, but spotty. I needed more permanent work. I'd like to teach theology at a university, so it was time to continue with doctoral studies.
And with a sigh of relief last summer, it looked as if everything would work out. I found a job in my field that was interesting and flexible enough to accommodate my studies. My grown son had recently moved out on his own. Then the rug was pulled out from under me. In a perplexing swirl of politics, the job vanished, and I was out of work and without a net.
I would have to simplify my already simple life. The car had to go. My car! This left me grieving. I had to withdraw from courses. A leave of absence before I even started. Next up: the rent. How could I stay positive, sane, and spiritually healthy?
I thought of Job in the Hebrew Scriptures. Job was a good and just man who did nothing wrong and still lost everything. His friends, at first supportive, became impatient in time, and accused him of having done evil to cause his misfortune. Yet he held his faith even in the blinding days of loss, and fell silent in the face of his own suffering. Eventually the smoke cleared, and his life was restored many times over. But in the midst of dark days, he did not know that restoration was ahead.
Stories heal. They strengthen us, and we need that, because like Job, we may encounter insensitive remarks such as, "I can't believe someone with your education and gifts can't find work!" Implying, like Job's friends of old, that it must be my fault. I mustn't be doing enough; I must be too picky. But my search is relentless and broad, given my dual-career past. I must protect myself from negativity by being more selective in choosing confidants.
How can I know whether God is redirecting me (if so, please enlighten me, God!), or whether it's negativity seeking to derail me? Or, is it just the woof and warp of life? Scriptures teach us that what some intend for evil, God will transform into good. Discernment is important, and for that I have sought the help of holy and wise others, including a spiritual director.
I make an effort to get up and out, to get some fresh air. I seek the company of positive people, and pray and meditate. Now I pray only for God's will, and to be useful, and I have extended those prayers outward, asking others to pray for me. I've dusted off practices like novenas, invoking St. Jude, patron of impossibile situations! I am no longer too sophisticated for this. These ancient forms of prayer, after all, are really meditative in their repetition, and they simply call on holy men and women who have died to pray for us from the other side. It is like the "second na•vetˇ" of which scholar Paul Ricoeur wrote. These prayers calm me, and foster hope.
I maintain structure in my life. I rise early and light candles and incense for comfort and to evoke the sacred. I try to eat right. I willingly extend myself every day in the search for work.
I remind myself to acknowledge each day's good things — practicing gratitude. And I must practice generosity of spirit. A friend pointed this out when I got indignant with those who have never been unemployed and say unthinking things. She said, "This is where you have to be generous to them."
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," we chanted as children. Down, but not out. With grace and gratitude, I will find my way forward and extend myself to others experiencing this uncertainty.
May your way be fruitful and full of joy in unexpected places. And while you're at it, say a prayer for me!
MaryEllen O'Brien is the author of Living Well and Dying Well: A Sacramental View of Life and Death (Sheed & Ward, 2001). She has an M.A. in theology and a B.A. in religious studies, lives in Chicago where the public transportation is great, and is beginning doctoral studies at Loyola University. You can contact her at mobrienchi@ameritech.net.