I will begin by admitting that this post has virtually nothing to do with my baking, apart from the fact that my friend's family loves my pizza and my potato bread. But this is the forum where I express my most important ideas, so it seemed a good place as any to share.
Every morning when I get dressed in my monastic habit, I make sure I have what I’ll need for the day: a pen and a notecard to write on, my keys, a clean handkerchief—and five marbles. This last addition to my pockets requires some explanation.
When I was younger I collected marbles, and learned all the jargon for marbles of various sizes and materials: shooters and scaboulders, aggies and immies, cat’s eyes and chinas, steelies and swirls and sulphides. I was an avid collector throughout grade school and even into high school, but eventually the sectioned jewelry box holding my marble collection ended up on the top shelf of my closet. Recently I found a good reason to take some out.
A few months ago a good friend of mine confided in me that he was feeling especially burdened. There are serious health issues in his family, and the accompanying stress of dealing with doctor’s appointments, insurance and other financial matters was weighing heavily upon him, along with the usual obligations of being a husband, parenting small children, maintaining a home, and meeting work and social commitments.
“I know it’s my burden to bear and no-one else’s,” he said. “I don’t resent having it and I’m never going to lay it down. But sometimes it gets really hard.”
It’s important for you to know that I have my friend’s permission to share his story. It’s also important for you to know that my friend is not one to whine or feel sorry for himself, and he rarely complains, in spite of the serious struggles that face him every day. I admire him for maintaining a positive attitude and a cheerful disposition in the face of genuine suffering, in addition to being generous with his time, energy and affection.
When I was younger I collected marbles, and learned all the jargon for marbles of various sizes and materials: shooters and scaboulders, aggies and immies, cat’s eyes and chinas, steelies and swirls and sulphides. I was an avid collector throughout grade school and even into high school, but eventually the sectioned jewelry box holding my marble collection ended up on the top shelf of my closet. Recently I found a good reason to take some out.
A few months ago a good friend of mine confided in me that he was feeling especially burdened. There are serious health issues in his family, and the accompanying stress of dealing with doctor’s appointments, insurance and other financial matters was weighing heavily upon him, along with the usual obligations of being a husband, parenting small children, maintaining a home, and meeting work and social commitments.
“I know it’s my burden to bear and no-one else’s,” he said. “I don’t resent having it and I’m never going to lay it down. But sometimes it gets really hard.”
It’s important for you to know that I have my friend’s permission to share his story. It’s also important for you to know that my friend is not one to whine or feel sorry for himself, and he rarely complains, in spite of the serious struggles that face him every day. I admire him for maintaining a positive attitude and a cheerful disposition in the face of genuine suffering, in addition to being generous with his time, energy and affection.
Over the next few days I spent a lot of time thinking and praying about my friend and his burdens. I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable, because I realized how often I exaggerate my own burdens and feel sorry for myself. My friend feels like Atlas, walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and what am I carrying?
I’ve got the equivalent of a pocketful of marbles.
I have little personal acquaintance with genuine suffering. I have stresses, frets, frustrations and setbacks, a few daily annoyances and occasional disappointments. But the kind of burdens my friend carries? Not even close. A bad knee gives me some pain, and keeps me from taking the stairs two at a time like I used to, but I’m not strapping on a brace or levering myself into a wheelchair every morning. Monastic life imposes some physical and financial limitations on me, but they were freely chosen, and I don’t have any reason to fear that the power will be turned off or my medical bills won’t be paid. But still I complain, mumble under my breath, and (occasionally) curse out loud at “how difficult everything is.”
My friend’s honesty in admitting his struggle made me take a hard look at myself, and I determined that I needed a daily reminder of the relative lightness of my sufferings. So I got out my box of marbles, chose five to symbolize the various burdens I carry, and resolved to keep them in my pocket as a reminder of how small those burdens really are.
I’ve got the equivalent of a pocketful of marbles.
I have little personal acquaintance with genuine suffering. I have stresses, frets, frustrations and setbacks, a few daily annoyances and occasional disappointments. But the kind of burdens my friend carries? Not even close. A bad knee gives me some pain, and keeps me from taking the stairs two at a time like I used to, but I’m not strapping on a brace or levering myself into a wheelchair every morning. Monastic life imposes some physical and financial limitations on me, but they were freely chosen, and I don’t have any reason to fear that the power will be turned off or my medical bills won’t be paid. But still I complain, mumble under my breath, and (occasionally) curse out loud at “how difficult everything is.”
My friend’s honesty in admitting his struggle made me take a hard look at myself, and I determined that I needed a daily reminder of the relative lightness of my sufferings. So I got out my box of marbles, chose five to symbolize the various burdens I carry, and resolved to keep them in my pocket as a reminder of how small those burdens really are.
I chose this marble to symbolize the burden of my sins, which I carry with me all the time, as we all do. The red spatters symbolize the blood of Christ, whose saving death ransomed me from the power of the Evil One. “But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, then we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son Jesus cleanses us from all sin.” 1 John 1:7
But that’s not quite right, is it? It was Christ himself who carried the burden of my sins, of all our sins, when he shouldered the cross and bore it on the long road to Calvary, to crucifixion and death. I came to realize that what I am actually carrying are the consequences of my sins. My sins are “washed clean by the blood of the Lamb,” but well we know that often the consequences of those sins remain and must be borne: the damage done to our relationships, the negative effects on our families, our society; the self-inflicted wounds still within my own heart. A “momentary light affliction” but a real one nonetheless.
But that’s not quite right, is it? It was Christ himself who carried the burden of my sins, of all our sins, when he shouldered the cross and bore it on the long road to Calvary, to crucifixion and death. I came to realize that what I am actually carrying are the consequences of my sins. My sins are “washed clean by the blood of the Lamb,” but well we know that often the consequences of those sins remain and must be borne: the damage done to our relationships, the negative effects on our families, our society; the self-inflicted wounds still within my own heart. A “momentary light affliction” but a real one nonetheless.
The second marble I chose is made of stone—carnelian agate, to be precise. I chose it as a symbol of the heft and hardness of my grudges: heavy, impenetrable, and seemingly impossible to set down. It’s a standard joke in my family that we’ll all develop Irish Alzheimer’s—you forget everything but your grudges. I suspect the Italian side of my family has a similar cultural tendency. Daily I carry the burden of my own pettiness, and the shame of being a priest who sometimes struggles to forgive. Again, it’s a small burden, but one I’d rather not carry at all.
The consequences of my sins and reality of my grudges led me to this black glass marble, which represents all the people who harbor resentment, dislike or even hatred against me. I was explaining the five marbles to an old friend who blurted out, “Nobody hates you, Dom!” God bless his generous heart, but I know better.
It’s a small marble, because I would like to believe that such people are indeed few. Some are angry with me because they were looking for something to be angry about, and I happened to get in the way. I suspect that for some, it is self-hatred that makes them hate me. But I also must admit that I have sometimes been careless of people’s feelings, and for them their anger is justified. It’s good for me to carry a reminder to work hard to avoid making such missteps again.
It’s a small marble, because I would like to believe that such people are indeed few. Some are angry with me because they were looking for something to be angry about, and I happened to get in the way. I suspect that for some, it is self-hatred that makes them hate me. But I also must admit that I have sometimes been careless of people’s feelings, and for them their anger is justified. It’s good for me to carry a reminder to work hard to avoid making such missteps again.
This marble is made of clay, and it is the smallest in my collection. It represents the clay vessel of my aging body. My so-called physical sufferings are indeed the smallest of my afflictions, a tiny clay marble compared to the heavy burdens of illness and infirmity borne daily by millions of people with far greater patience and courage than mine.
We are temples of the Holy Spirit, “But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us” 2 Cor 4:7. When my joints ache and I have trouble getting out of chair, the marbles in my pocket jostle and clack together as a reminder of Paul’s observation: “He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness” 2 Cor 12:9
We are temples of the Holy Spirit, “But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us” 2 Cor 4:7. When my joints ache and I have trouble getting out of chair, the marbles in my pocket jostle and clack together as a reminder of Paul’s observation: “He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness” 2 Cor 12:9
This last marble is the most important of the five I put in my pocket every morning. It was handmade in Germany sometime in the mid to late 1800’s. At the core is a lovely multicolored swirl of glass, but its beauty is obscured by the damage to the surface of the marble. It’s scuffed, scarred and chipped by the way it has been treated—it doesn’t even roll straight anymore.
This little glass sphere is a symbol of the people who have been so damaged by their experiences that their fundamental beauty is hidden, both to themselves and to others. The exquisite colors of their souls go unnoticed, the glorious image of the divine likeness at the center of their true selves is concealed by a veil of pain. I carry this marble as a reminder to pray for all those who need some gentle, compassionate polishing, that I must strive to see their inner beauty and to find ways to reveal it to them and to others.
That responsibility was placed on upon me by the bishop when he laid his hands on my head in the rite of ordination. Some days it feels like a heavy load, but more often my ministry is a privilege and a great, singing joy.
This little glass sphere is a symbol of the people who have been so damaged by their experiences that their fundamental beauty is hidden, both to themselves and to others. The exquisite colors of their souls go unnoticed, the glorious image of the divine likeness at the center of their true selves is concealed by a veil of pain. I carry this marble as a reminder to pray for all those who need some gentle, compassionate polishing, that I must strive to see their inner beauty and to find ways to reveal it to them and to others.
That responsibility was placed on upon me by the bishop when he laid his hands on my head in the rite of ordination. Some days it feels like a heavy load, but more often my ministry is a privilege and a great, singing joy.
Since I started putting the five marbles in my pocket every morning, my life has been improved in every way. I am more grateful for my blessings, more patient with everyday annoyances, more conscious of how I treat others and more careful not to add to their burdens. Many of my friendships seem deeper, somehow, as I am more mindful of others’ genuine suffering and less concerned about my own modest afflictions. All I have to do is reach into my pocket and rattle the marbles around to dispel any self-pity.
I’m grateful to my friend for trusting me enough to share his struggles with me. I resolved to be the best friend I could be to him, “the best version of myself” as Matthew Kelly would put it. But under the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit, that resolve has gradually expanded to include everyone I meet. I’m a better man, a better monk, a better friend, thanks to my friend’s honesty. I still fail, sometimes grievously, to be that better man. Those failures are a reminder that the heaviest burden all of us carry is the weight of our imperfect human nature. Fortunately, there is a remedy for that: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so you will fulfill the law of Christ” Gal 6:2.
I’m grateful to my friend for trusting me enough to share his struggles with me. I resolved to be the best friend I could be to him, “the best version of myself” as Matthew Kelly would put it. But under the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit, that resolve has gradually expanded to include everyone I meet. I’m a better man, a better monk, a better friend, thanks to my friend’s honesty. I still fail, sometimes grievously, to be that better man. Those failures are a reminder that the heaviest burden all of us carry is the weight of our imperfect human nature. Fortunately, there is a remedy for that: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so you will fulfill the law of Christ” Gal 6:2.
RSS Feed