Daughters of St. Paul Strength for the Week 10/14

Strength for the Week

Have you ever watched a movie or tried out a restaurant that your friends had talked up too much? Yeah it was good—but earth-shatteringly brilliant? Not so much. And yet, life goes on despite the disappointment. Feeling let down by anticipated delights is one thing. Feeling let down by a person who we idolized is another. It is a challenge, but as R. Scott Hurd reminds us, we need to accept the gift that is our neighbor rather than expect our neighbor to live up to standards we set for them. By Sean Mayer, FSP @srseanm

Don't Put Me on A Pedestal!

Excerpted from Forgiveness: A Catholic Approach, by R. Scott Hurd.

A lot of contemporary pop singers express a hope that someone will “save” them: save them from loneliness; save them from despair; save them from the person they’ve allowed themselves to become. They express a heartfelt, and sometimes desperate longing to be happy, wanted, and fulfilled.

If it’s true that art imitates life, many people today are looking and longing for someone to save them. And that shouldn’t surprise us, for we all need saving! The good news of Christianity is that we can be saved by another person, but not just any person. Not a lover, a politician, or a guru—the only one who can truly save us is Jesus, God-become-man.

When we look to any other person to save us, we expect them to fulfill a need that only Jesus can satisfy. That’s a heavy burden to place upon anyone and guarantees the person will ultimately fail. Because there’s no way he or she will live up to our expectations, we may feel let down. We’ll wind up angry, frustrated, and disappointed, but that’s our fault, because we were being unrealistic.

Other people can indeed bring us a strong dose of happiness and joy. They can relieve a measure of our loneliness. Our relationships with them can help give our lives direction and purpose, but they can’t fulfill our ultimate needs. Only Jesus can do that. Other people are weak, broken, and finite, just as we are. To some degree, they will always disappoint us. I was once given a very meaningful penance in Confession, and it’s something I still do to this day: Every time I pass before the Blessed Sacrament, I genuflect and pray, “Lord, only you can satisfy my deepest longing for love.” It’s good to be reminded of that often.

We need to have realistic expectations of others, just as Jesus has realistic expectations of us. He doesn’t expect us to do what we’re incapable of doing, and he certainly doesn’t expect us to be perfect. Consider Jesus’s disciples. Jesus knew full well what he was getting when he called them to ministry. At times, they were a less-than-impressive group. They frustrated Jesus because they didn’t get it. They were sleepy cowards the night Jesus was arrested. James and John were vengeful and proud; Thomas had his doubts; Judas was a greedy betrayer. Finally, there was their leader, Peter. Hot-tempered and boastful, he denied even knowing Jesus.

Jesus appreciated that his disciples were a work in progress. We see this when Peter encounters Jesus after the resurrection (Jn 21:15–19). At first, Jesus asks Peter twice, “Do you love me?” In the original New Testament Greek, the word translated as “love” is agape—the sacrificial, self-giving type of love that Jesus showed on the cross. In response, Peter affirms that he loves Jesus, but the love Peter refers to is not agape but phileo, the love of friendship and brotherhood. It’s as if Peter said, “Lord, you know I’m your friend.” Why did Peter say this? Just days earlier, Peter boasted that he was ready to die for Jesus! Yet within hours, Peter in his weakness and fear disowned Jesus entirely. That’s why he didn’t say he loved Jesus the way Jesus asked him to love him. He was just being honest. Jesus understood. When he asked Peter a third time for an assurance of his love, Jesus no longer used the word agape. He used phileo instead. It’s as if Jesus asked him, “Peter, are you my friend?” To which Peter readily agreed. He knew that he wasn’t yet capable of agape love, and Jesus knew it too. That’s why he didn’t demand of Peter what Peter was incapable of giving.

Jesus had realistic expectations for his disciples. He’s realistic with us, too. He knows that we’re far from perfect. After all, even the saints weren’t perfect, this side of heaven. The criterion for sainthood is not perfection, but “heroic virtue”—a big difference. Jesus doesn’t demand perfection. The problem is sometimes we do. Perfectionists are hard on others, and they’re hard on themselves. Their expectations are just too high; perfectionism only leaves room for failure. That’s why perfectionists typically wind up frustrated, and those around them end up hurt.

If we tend to be perfectionists, we need to be aware of this. Even if we aren’t perfectionists, most of us at some point will place unrealistic expectations upon others. A newlywed may expect his partner to change into the person he wants her to be. Parents expect children to follow in their footsteps or fulfill the dreams they impose on them instead of letting them chart their own course. We can even attach expectations to our forgiveness. We expect those we’ve forgiven to change their ways, express gratitude for our pardon, or at the very least start being nice to us.

Sometimes our expectations are a reflection of our neediness, or our pain. For instance, when her husband became bedridden after a tragic accident, one distressed woman demanded unreasonable amounts of attention and assistance from those who weren’t able to give it. She drove them away, and deprived herself of the help and care they were prepared to give. In the process, she became a deeply bitter, angry person.

By feeling disappointed when others fail to meet our unrealistic expectations, we may conclude that we need to forgive them even though they haven’t done anything that needs forgiving! We’re the ones who created the problem, not them. The solution? Lower the bar. We can’t expect others to give more than they’re capable of giving; we can’t expect others to be who they aren’t; and we certainly can’t expect them to be perfect.

Yes, Jesus did tell us to “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48), but he didn’t mean that we need to be flawless. If that were the case, we’d have to admit we’re in bad shape! What he did mean is that we need to love as God the Father loves: without condition. Such love requires that we accept, but not expect. If we can learn to love like that, we’ll realize that there is much less to forgive than we may once have thought.