Duty has become a dirty word in the postmodern lexicon—mocked as the province of uptight religious fundamentalists or thickheaded, macho, military men.
Doing one’s duty is depicted as dry, lifeless and unpleasant (even hypocritical), and is often juxtaposed to “following your heart” and being “true to yourself” – which sounds terribly noble (primacy of conscience, and all that), but it usually boils down to satisfying whatever appetite is foremost in your consciousness at any given moment.
I was raised on this stuff—not by my parents, but by popular culture, which inevitably found its way even into the post-conciliar Church.
Though I purport to know better, at times I lapse into following my heart, which invariably leads me to feeling scattered and lost—perhaps even into something approaching despair.
Disclosure: as the November, 2012 US presidential election approaches, I have spent too much time reading about politics and the general predicament, not just of Canada’s nearest neighbour, but the world in general.
The global economy, the upsurge in terrorism, religious persecution, and various other manifestations of the Culture of Death yields little about which to feel hopeful.
Pundits (both sides) alternately predict that victory for the opposing candidate entails unmitigated catastrophe for the nation and the world.
“With such narratives to hand, who would read novels?” asks Mr Bennett in the TV version of Pride and Prejudice. Alas, not the mum who has time only for depressing political prognostication.
Not that politics and spirituality are entirely unrelated.
Chaos, national or spiritual, tends to result when we put our fallen desires above what is objectively good and true.
I’m not a fan of J F Kennedy, but his speechwriter at least came up with a pithy maxim, which (inverted and paraphrased) could equally be applied to our religious duty:
Ask not what you can do for God (or why you should be doing it), but ‘What’s in it for me?’
We seem to have lost the sense of doing our duty because it is the right thing to do, looking instead for payback, even if it’s something as trivial as good feelings.
Some days, I have great difficulty fulfilling my duties—the first of which, for any Christian, is prayer.
My default mode is laziness, and the lazy man always finds it easier to follow his heart (or some other body part) rather than that which he knows to be the correct course of action.
Thus on any given morning, it is easier (mentally, if not physically) to open my laptop and click on the bookmarks for my favourite political bloggers than it is to choose the Divine Office online (which in turn is much easier to use than the multi-ribboned hardback version).
Lord, open my lips (because sometimes I don’t have the strength to do it myself) … and my mouth will proclaim your praise. Note the auxiliary verb:
“will” – as in, we must exercise ours in the fulfilment of our prayer commitments, even when—most especially when—we don’t “feel like it”.
My mouth will proclaim your praise, even if my heart is not in it. Is that hypocrisy?
Some would say yes, and use it as an excuse not to pray.
Others (the wisdom of the ages, the Church and her saints) would say there is honour and merit in duty; and if we consistently do it, our hearts will follow.
Thus duty becomes a joy—funny that.
Or not. God knows our hearts; he created them.
And he always seems to provide what we need just when we need it.
One dismal day, I received a commiserating email from another mum:
“Every time I think, ‘I hate the world’ (and that is fairly often), the words that immediately pop into my mind are:
“For God so LOVED the world …” and you know how the rest goes. He has overcome the world.
When I start to feel hopeless about its state, and to wonder how evil can be overcome, I remember that the first step is, as Blessed Teresa of Calcutta said, to “deal with what is at your feet.”
I can’t advance on Washington … but I can, and must, say my prayers, do the dishes, and make sure everyone has a clean uniform for [school] tomorrow.”
Well noted, and well admonished. At this time of year, we commemorate other significant dates: All Saints’ and All Souls’.
Perhaps I would be better served (and able to serve) by reading more writings of the saints and fewer political blogs.