Friday, September 26, 2014

Soft Hands: What My Dad Taught Me About Being a Woman

Dear sisters,

Last week in my blog post I talked about “falling down” and “falling in love” and this got me thinking about both of those experiences in my own life. 

(If you missed out on last week’s blog post you can check it out here)

In my reflection on these two experiences I began to think about my dad. Not only is he the first man I have fallen in love with, he is also the man that has been there every time that I “fall down.” When this happens he has picked me up; told me that I am beautiful, lovable, and smart; and told me that he is there to help me get where I need to go. 

He has taken it as his responsibility to teach me the skills that I need to know to get me from where I am now to where I want to be in the future. I have fond memories of my dad teaching me how to read, how to ride a bike, and how to drive (including parallel-parking a long-bed pickup truck!). 

But one of the memories that is very clearly etched in my mind is when my father taught me how to catch a ball. While this may seem like one of the most “unfeminine” things my father has taught me how to do (with maybe the exception of skeet shooting) it is the thing that has taught me the most about who I am as a woman. Why? Because it has taught me the importance of having “soft hands.”

If you play a sport that requires you to catch a ball, you have probably heard this phrase before, but for the sake of everyone else, I’ll give a short explanation. 

When someone throws you a ball it’s really important that you don’t try to “jab” at the ball mid-flight. You have to wait for the ball to come to you. Then once you have it, you must bring the ball into yourself. This is what is meant by having soft hands.

So what does catching a ball with soft hands have to do with femininity? Everything. 

Women's Receptivity

 One of our characteristics as women is our natural receptivity. There’s a certain “space” within us set aside to be open to and to receive the love of another. God reveals this truth to us in our sexuality because women are naturally receptive to the love and life given them by their husband in the marital embrace. Women are also more naturally open to and receptive of the love of God (that’s why it seems like there are always more women at church than men!) 

Women’s receptivity is so powerful that God used it at the most pivotal moment in time: Jesus’ Incarnation in Mary’s womb. It was Mary’s receptivity and openness to God’s love that literally brought Jesus into the world.

Satan’s Attack on Women’s Receptivity

This is why it is so important for Satan that he attack women’s receptivity. He knows what happens when women are receptive to the love of God. Jesus enters the world, and that is the last thing he wants. 

Satan uses modern culture to twist women’s understanding of their receptivity, and because he is the Prince of Lies, he tells us lies about our receptivity. Perhaps the biggest and most dangerous lie that Satan tells us about our receptivity is that it is passive and weak.

Modernity puts forth the notion of the damsel in distress just sitting around and waiting for the prince to come save her. The “damsel in distress” notion is what the culture wants you to think of when you hear that the Church says women are receptive because the culture wants you to think that receptivity is passive and weak and that the Church wants women to be passive and weak. Not surprisingly, this “passive and weak receptivity” is often rejected by women because it is not an attractive option.

The culture offers us only one alternative to this passive and weak receptivity: the complete rejection of our receptivity in favor of an aggressive activity. As Fr. Dominic Foster once said, the culture tells women that they must either “seduce” or “produce”. These are very “active” notions that prey on our sense of pride.

Going back to our analogy of catching a ball, the equivalent of “seducing” or “producing” would be beyond just “jabbing” at the ball in the air; it would actually be more like charging the person who was throwing the ball at you. If catching the ball (which represents love) is what we are trying to accomplish, tackling the person trying to throw that ball to you seems a bit counter-intuitive. 

Are There Only Two Options?

Must we go along with the culture and accept that there are only two possibilities: passive receptivity or aggressive activity? 

It is clear that the Church doesn’t want women to participate in an aggressive activity when it comes to “catching” love from others. But does that mean that the Church expects women to be passive and weak?

Let me answer this question by once again returning to our analogy of catching the ball. If someone was trying to catch a ball but they stood absolutely still and didn’t move at all (because that’s what passivity is), how successful do you think they would be? I’m willing to bet that 10 times out of 10 they are not going to catch that ball. 

What does this mean? Put simply, it means that there’s no such thing as a passive receptivity. Receptivity, by its very nature, cannot be passive.

Active Receptivity = “Soft Hands”

It stands to reason that if receptivity cannot truly be passive then it must, by its very nature, be active. Satan’s lie that our receptivity is a passive thing turns out to be just that: a lie.

So what does it look like to be “actively receptive”? Perhaps we should look again at the woman whose receptivity worked to actively revolutionize the world.

In his encyclical letter, Redemptoris Mater (Mother of the Redeemer), St. Pope John Paul II began his introduction by speaking of Mary’s receptivity to the Lord in her Fiat. He then says in the very next paragraph that, “I wish to begin my reflection on the role of Mary in the mystery of Christ and on her active and exemplary presence in the life of the Church” (emphasis added).

This wise saint begins his encyclical on Mary by immediately mentioning that her receptivity was active and that this is an example that all of the Church (especially women!) should follow.

Now, I’m not saying my dad is as theologically savvy as St. Pope John Paul II, but I am saying that he taught me this reality of active receptivity long before I could even spell “Redemptoris Mater” because he taught me what it means to have soft hands.

Having soft hands means that you hold your hands out wide and expectantly wait for someone to give you the gift of their love. It means that you keep your eyes firmly fixed on the Love being thrown to you, because this Love is Jesus Himself. It means watching the arch that this Love makes through the air and moving your body so that you are in the best possible position to receive that Love. And it means bringing that love into your heart and into the very center of your being as soon as you have a grasp on it. If we do all of these things, we are being truly active receivers.

In teaching me how to have soft hands, my father taught me not just what it means to be a woman; he taught me what it means to be a woman loved by God.

In The Fire of His Love,

Alyssa
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Alyssa is a sophomore studying Humanities and Catholic Culture, Theology, and Philosophy. She is a native of Texas where she lives with her family in a blue-roofed house on top of a hill. She is passionate about the Truth of the Lord's Incarnation and loves spending time discovering and discussing ways in which others have incarnated the Gospel in film, history, literature, politics, and art. Her favorite saints are St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Siena because they both personify St. John Paul II's "feminine genius" in her mind.




Friday, September 19, 2014

Falling Down and Falling in Love: Steps to New Life This Year



Dear sisters,

With the beginning of the school year it seems like “newness” is all around us. For freshman, everything about college is new: a new environment, new classes, and new friends.

And newness doesn’t go away just because one is a returning student. I'm discovering that even as a sophomore, the beginning of the semester brings with it a whole new kind of “newness.” This is my first semester as a member of the Women’s Ministry Core Team. It’s also my first semester as a member of a household. It’s even the first time I’ve written a blog post!

A word often associated with newness is “fresh” (hence, “freshmen”) and I picture plants bursting forth and exploding with new life. That’s what it’s like to be a returning student when you come back and see campus exploding with new people, new faces, and new energy!

So isn’t it strange that a time that brings so much newness for us occurs during the Fall? After the first week or so the exuberant excitement of Orientation and returning to school starts to dwindle. The flowers around the Rosary Circle begin to fade and the blistering heat of summer slips into the cool breezes and cloudy skies that make me (because of my thin Texas blood) need a jacket. The enthusiasm we felt towards our classes and professors has by now become tedious monotony and mild resentment.

Yet the semester is still “new” despite the decay that seems to creep in with the Fall season. How is this possible? Could it be that Fall, despite all of its gradual death, is actually the first step in the new life we will encounter this school year?  

Many people acknowledge that death is a part of life. However most view death as the final stage in life’s process. For them it’s the end, not the beginning. But as Christians, and even more so as Catholics, we recognize that death comes before life, not after.

Having spring before fall is like having Easter before Good Friday. When death doesn’t come first, life loses its significance. The empty Cross would be insignificant if it did not first bear the Corpus.  What’s more, life is not even possible without dying first.

This is why St. Paul says in his letter to the Colossians that, “Through baptism into [Christ’s] death we were buried with him, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life.” (Colossians 6:4)

So what does this mean for us as we embark upon this new school year? What steps must we take to find new life and personal growth? In reflecting upon this matter I have come up with two simple answers, both of which (in my opinion) take on a more significant meaning when connected to the Fall season. 

Falling Down

We recognize that death is a necessary part of our lives as Christians, so if you’re looking for new life in your spirituality this year you must begin at the beginning: death. If you’re seeking a new spiritual life that means that there’s an old life that you recognize isn’t cutting it anymore. The solution is to let that old life die. Let it fall away like a dead leaf falling away from a tree and allow the Holy Spirit (through the sacrament of Reconciliation) to carry that leaf far away from where you’re planted.

Letting your leaves fall down is how we die to self. Whatever God has in store for you this semester I’m sure it involves dying to self in some way. God may be calling you to die to self by putting in dozens of hours in the library, by forgiving someone who’s hurt you, or by forgiving and loving yourself. This process of falling down and dying to self can seem harsh because without its leaves a tree has nothing to block the wind from blowing between its branches. Which brings me to my second point…

Falling in Love

After falling down we must now let go of ourselves in a different way: by giving ourselves over completely to another. After all of its leaves fall down, a tree is very vulnerable and is completely at the mercy of the elements, especially the wind. We must allow ourselves at this time to fall in love with God or, rather to fall into Love Himself. The Holy Spirit can now rush in and out between our bare branches, penetrating deeper than ever before. In this process we will sway back and forth with the wind and will, in a sense, be falling into the wind. The branches that are dead and unable to sway will break off and fall away, but the branches that are alive and flexible enough to bend will remain and will become stronger.

The thing is, the Lord desires that you be this free and open with Him that you will fall into love with Him and he knows that you desire the same thing. He wants nothing more than to dance with you like the wind dances with the tree. He wants you to feel that exhilaration of falling through the air only to be caught and born up again by His Love. He wants you to know that you can trust Him when He dips you, spins you, and throws you up into the air. As scary as it sounds, He knows such a sensation will make you laugh and feel truly beautiful.

Falling in love with the Lord this semester will require a leap of faith (It’s called “falling” in love for a reason). But it is a leap of faith that will bring you joy because it is one that will ultimately carry you into the New Life that God has waiting for you at the end of the long Fall and Winter.

The question is, are you willing to fall for it?

In the Fire of His Love,

Alyssa




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Alyssa is a sophomore studying Humanities and Catholic Culture, Theology, and Philosophy. She is a native of Texas where she lives with her family in a blue-roofed house on top of a hill. She is passionate about the Truth of the Lord's Incarnation and loves spending time discovering and discussing ways in which others have incarnated the Gospel in film, history, literature, politics, and art. Her favorite saints are St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Siena because they both personify St. John Paul II's "feminine genius" in her mind.