Velcro vs Teflon

“Well, if you’re going to talk to me in that way with your insults and ultimatums, you’re going to find me a tough customer! I advise you to find your manners and then come back for a chat.” Does that sound non-confronting? Is there a better way? When I’m in conflict with someone, I can choose to answer them from a snarly, passive-aggressive stance or to reach down deeper to find a more gracious way of responding.

Richard Rohr’s words caught my eye:

In the world of grace and freedom, for a channel to be opened, it must flow forward, through, and toward something else—or the channel becomes blocked. The positive and appreciative response demands consciousness and choice—and freedom on our part.

In other words, if I feed negative feelings back by sound, sense or stance, the rift in the relationship will become more pronounced and escalated. Words and phrases will stick like velcro, blocking the channels of constructive communication.


If, on the other hand, I meet negativity by reaching down to where the rivers of grace and gratitude freely flow and respond from that place, our discourse has a greater chance of flowing towards a creative resolution. Teflon is smooth and non-stick, easing the flow.

So here’s a gauge by which I can measure the effectiveness of my arguments over things great or small. “I see you and acknowledge your frustration. There is an answer and I believe we can work together to find it – something that meets your desire and mine.”

Am I using velcro or teflon?

“When I’m 104”

If Paul McCartney was writing the lyrics now, this might be the title. Sixty-four today is young by any standard. So I tackle Sr Joan Chittister’s reflection on “Ageism” in her book The Gift of Years with some diffidence.

In my mid-seventies, I can’t say that I have yet experienced to a noticeable degree the prejudices that she explores. It’s never been suggested that I am beyond my depth, losing my marbles, or out of touch. No one’s ever said to me, “Okay, boomer!” I am, however, aware of many who have experienced passive or active prejudice, so I take seriously the nuances that she raises, affected by perceptions of diminished mental, social, economic and physical capacity from those around us. These, in turn, affect our inner awareness and the degree to which we “live into” the expectations of others or ourselves.

It seems unusual then to speak of ageism as a gift when it is mostly a shallow, culturally conditioned projection from both within and without. The gift is more perhaps in the choice of response we make. We can feed into such cultural determinism by defiantly tilting at windmills “to prove a point” or tap into our years of wisdom and discerning know-how as a winsome resource to offer others when invited. We can give in to the limits of perceived diminishment or answer the call to model how to live fully whatever our current circumstances.

Herein is both the burden and the blessing:

A burden of these years is the danger that we might internalise the negative sterotypes of the ageing process. We might become what we fear, and so abdicate our new call to life.

A blessing of these years is that we are the ones whose responsibility it is to prove the stereotypes wrong, to give age its own fulness of life.

Sr Joan Chittister

My mother, in her confinement, has just turned 99 and she models living fully well!

G’Day Fear – My Old Friend

I happily belong to a suite of personality styles that have developed lifelong strategies against focusing on fear as their constant background noise. Hence, when Joan Chittister identifies fear as a theme that confronts the adventure of ageing, I am in familiar territory.

The experience of a diminishment of mental, physical and financial capacity is indeed something I carefully watch and monitor. The exercises and engagements I employ, however, have a life and meaning within themselves – they are not merely the means of holding off the inevitable disintegration of capability. Accordingly, I continue to engage with deep-level work in pastoral and spiritual care for which I am trained and called. In retirement, I still meet with and serve a range of individuals, groups, and communities. Several continue to require administrative and organisational skills and a need to keep up with technical developments. Cognitively, socially and aesthetically the world continues to spread before me and I am enriched (and hopefully enriching)

What I must continually discern is how much of this is living the meaning of such engagement compared with shouting defiance into the wind of looming decrepitude. I have seen too many instances of old warriors refusing to hand over responsibilities to their successors, grimly protecting their decaying citadels.

I am grateful to be part of a group of peers who are alert to both the risks and opportunities of this phase in life and are adept at calling one another out.

Chittister summarises both burden and blessing for fear.

A burden of these years is that it invites the possibility of giving into the fear of invisibility, of uselessness, of losing our sense of self and human obligation. Fear tempts us to believe that life is over – rather than simply changing.

A blessing of fear in these years is that it invites us to become the fullness of ourselves. It comes to us in the nighttime of the soul to tell us to rise to new selves in fresh and exciting ways – for our sake, of course, but for the sake of the rest of the world, as well.

The word of Jesus centres me well when he says “… unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24 NRSV)

This is the antidote to fear.

George McDonald puts it this way, “Age is not all decay. It is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within that withers and bursts the husk.”

Does Purpose Equal Meaning?

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Joan Chichester explores the theme of meaning in the Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully.

From my early days, I’ve had what I now regard as a healthy suspicion of the utilitarian spirit that pervades Western society – the mindset that says things only have value for what material worth they can add. Childhood thus begins an orientation of developing self-worth that is based on simply doing and accomplishing at the cost of reflecting and creating. One might expect this focus to be appropriate for a context of subsistence and basic skill development, but how quickly it translates into opportunities for acquisitiveness. When the gathering of wealth, power, and status becomes the purpose for living, one is entitled to question whether it’s also life’s meaning.

Chichester addresses what happens when we reach a point in life where our capacity for drivenness and performance begins to diminish and even shrink away entirely. If our purpose has been goal and productivity-driven, we find ourselves in crisis. If we have been conditioned, however, to find meaning in our life’s seasons, our days are enriched.

My days of receiving pecuniary rewards for work on a regular basis are now in the rapidly receding past.  Meaning, however, has increased exponentially. Perhaps I have been blessed with a work life where purpose has always derived from meaning, not vice versa. While it has been nice to be able to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, this has not been the prime purpose of my work. The meaning of my work, serving in a vocation of Christ-inspired ministry in whatever setting I find myself, eclipses and transcends mere purpose.

I would venture that even the most mundane daily grind where purpose is defined in the most boring, utilitarian manner can take on a different timbre when imbued with a meaning that derives from deep within one’s being. The monk who spent his days in the scullery peeling potatoes deemed himself the happiest of all in the monastery because he could “practice the presence of God.” I daresay that when he grew too old to manage this simple task, meaning remained with him.

Chichester concludes with this observation:

A burden of these years is that we might allow ourselves to believe that not being as fast or as busy as we used to be is some kind of human deficiency.

A blessing of these years is that we can come to understand that it is the quality of what we think and say that makes us valuable members of society, not how fast and busy we are.

Non, je ne regrette rien

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Edith Piaf’s famous song is absolute – no regrets for any past choice or event whether good or bad! All can be laid aside as if they never occurred. (Follow the link to her song and its description.)

When Joan Chittister writes about coming to terms with Regret as a feature of ageing, she has a different take. Choices are made and there comes a point in our journey when we look back and decide their effect on our life’s trajectory. Why did I take that job instead of the other? How come I did not pursue that relationship that promised so much? What would have happened if I had lived closer to my birthplace rather than moved so far away? These questions are not so off-handedly dismissed as Piaf’s song suggests – they linger in the shadows of our hearts and minds and their stage whispers cry for our attention from time to time. What would my life look like had I chosen differently?

A regret may carry a burden that hides the gift. Imagination might caress the possibilities of what might have occurred had the alternative path been taken and what wounds, inconveniences and circumstances might have been avoided. In doing so, we expose ourselves to neglect of the celebration of the good that has arisen from the course actually taken.

Against the sound wisdom of the era, I left school and entered the workforce before completing Leaving or Matriculation. This cut my academic options severely. Throughout my vocation as a minister, I have dwelt in academic circles, making my occasional contributions with qualifications no higher than a suite of graduate diplomas and an incomplete Master’s program. Had I completed Matriculation earlier, I would have had a more effective starting block to win the qualifications that would have made me more capable in the areas of teaching and vocational training.

Yet the workforce provided me with a different kind of preparation for the people-focused work I would be engaged with for the rest of my life. I learned all aspects of the electroplating industry in the small factory my fifteen-year-old self started with, then went to counter-hopping in retailing and managing service and repairs for household appliances, to warehousing, gardening, and census collecting. The gifts from these experiences have risen unbidden when confronted with decisions for which much academic training would not have prepared me.

The burden of academic inadequacy only hits me sometimes. I constantly cherish the gifts that emerge from having made what many considered an unwise life choice. From this perspective, I can claim “je ne regrette rien!”

Now well into my seventies, I can look down over my life’s pathways and see the number of forks in the road where significant life-changing choices have been made. There was really never any “right” choice – either fork came with its own possibilities and promises. Each choice was taken after careful prayer and discernment. In the end, it has been possible to go forth with supreme confidence in the One who leads not from the front, but Who walks alongside. Again, because of this confidence, “je ne regrette rien.”

Joan Chittister summarises her reflections thus:

The burden of regret is that, unless we come to understand the value of the choices we made in the past, we may fail to see the gifts they have brought us.

The blessing of regret is clear – it brings us, if we are willing to face it head on, to the point of being present to this new time of life in an entirely new way. It urges us on to continue becoming.

Je ne regrette rien
Not ignoring poor choices
Thanks for way chosen


The Gift of Ageing

Recently, one of my peer groups pointed out a book by Sr Joan Chittister, The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully. We agreed to review it and share our thoughts on how it might inform our work in the spiritual companionship of older people.

As someone who is rapidly drifting into the “older” category myself and who has one’s own thoughts on this matter, I find myself keen to engage in dialogue with this work. I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.

Joan Chittister is an American Benedictine nun, theologian, author, and speaker, who has campaigned vigorously for women’s rights, particularly women’s ordination. While these matters have thrust her into the limelight, her scholarly leadership and spiritual breadth cover a wide theological and spiritual landscape.

While many of us become increasingly aware of the physical aspects of ageing, Chittister’s work seeks to address the mental and spiritual attitudes we bring to this experience and how they can contribute to our senses of either deterioration or transformation. She poses that our latter years can be “gift” rather than “burden”. As a natural glass-half-full person, I resonate with the realistic optimism that this phrase suggests.

There are no less than forty very tight and concise themes with practical choices to acknowledge the burden and gift of each. How do I reflect on regret? What meaning remains? How do I respond to ageism? Chichester brings a sobering, compassionate, yet feisty challenge to each.

I look forward to engaging with and writing my own responses to the many headings that Chichester explores.

An obligatory haiku

Ageing’s bold purpose
Uncovering burning lamp
That enlightens all.

Simian Standoff

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Going down Murray Mall
All gangly limbed and freckled
Surrounded by his mates
He shambled apelike towards us
Arms akimbo, legs bent
Fixing me with hostile stare
Oozing testosterone
with a simian quest for domination
I met his gaze with a closed mouth smile
Borrowed from Paul Hogan
As if to say, “You call that a threat?”
He dropped his head and skirted around us.

When Perfect Ain’t Good Enough

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus calls on his listeners to “be perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Some early Christian thought, however, was swimming in thick Greek philosophical soup, which understood “perfection” after the manner of Plato – there is a perfect idea of which the things of this world, including us, are merely a shadow. Our quest is to strive towards the elusive realisation of perfection which can never be attained. Thank God for the perfection in Jesus the Christ who vicariously saves us!

This is at odds with the notion of “perfect” we find in the Sermon on the Mount which rests on the Hebrew notion of engaging with growth towards wholeness, or completeness. It is strongly associated with “goodness” with a focus on beauty and attraction, rather than its by-product, moral uprightness. In the beginning, God created…and he saw that it was good… (not “perfect” in Plato’s sense).

Jesus’ call to perfection is the climax of all the practical wisdom distilled in the Sermon on the Mount. It speaks of radical transformation to wholeness, completeness that is beautiful and attractive rather than an unattainable ideal.

In pondering these nuances I ran a question through my philosophical sparring partner, Chat GPT, asking a general question “When is the notion of “perfect” not “good?” It naturally adopts the common version of perfection that is heavily influenced by Plato. Here is its response, and, if inclined, we can run it through the filter of Jesus’ notion of perfection.

The notion of “perfect” may not be considered “good” in various situations and contexts. Here are a few examples:

  1. Perfectionism and its consequences: When the pursuit of perfection becomes an obsession or an unrealistic expectation, it can lead to negative outcomes. Perfectionism can generate excessive stress, anxiety, and self-criticism, hindering personal growth and well-being.
  2. Creative endeavours: In creative fields like art, writing, or music, the pursuit of perfection can stifle creativity and spontaneity. Sometimes, imperfections or unconventional elements can enhance the overall appeal and uniqueness of a creative work.
  3. Human relationships: Expecting perfection in relationships can be detrimental. People are fallible, and expecting perfection from others can create unrealistic standards and strain relationships. Accepting imperfections and embracing each other’s flaws can foster healthier and more meaningful connections.
  4. Innovation and progress: In scientific or technological advancements, the pursuit of perfection can impede progress. The iterative process of trial and error, learning from mistakes, and embracing imperfections often leads to breakthroughs and innovation.
  5. Subjectivity and diversity: The concept of perfection is subjective and varies across individuals and cultures. What one person considers perfect may not align with someone else’s ideals. Embracing diversity and different perspectives often enriches society and fosters inclusivity.

It is important to recognize that perfection is often an idealized concept that may not always align with the complexities and nuances of the real world. Embracing imperfections and focusing on personal growth, learning, and adaptability can lead to more fulfilling experiences and outcomes.

Easter Memoirs: Easter Sunday

Any time after Saturday’s sunset, minds and rites have turned towards marking the Resurrection, the final act of the Easter Triduum. Whether it’s a watch service around a bonfire, a joyful lighting of the Holy Fire at midnight, a gathering on a lake shore to watch a sunrise or the bells and whistles of a full-on cathedral service – resurrection is celebrated.

The empty tomb and the appearance of the Risen Christ is not so much the climax, but the completion of a chapter in the Christian story. All three days of the Triduum are one seamless event – the Passover meal, arrest, trial and crucifixion, and borrowed and emptied tomb all belong together and deserve their own space and time for contemplation. The story will go on – its players and hearers knowing that while death has been vanquished, the Way of Christ has been vindicated in a manner that transcends common understanding. Coming to terms with Resurrection becomes the new task of disciples, old and new. The story continues with new, risky, transforming opportunities and possibilities…

No matter how many Easter celebrations one remembers – the current one always puts before us the challenge and the invitation of the Risen Christ to “go and meet” him wherever he is.