Earlier this month I had the privilege of speaking at the “Gold Country Gathering” that my parents organized for fans of George MacDonald. I spoke about human flourishing, George MacDonald, and my upcoming book.
I couple weeks ago I was speaking on George MacDonald and the Imagination at the Gold Country Gathering hosted by my parents. A number of people at the conference heard I was an Eastern Orthodox Christian and wanted to know more about Orthodoxy and why I converted to it. It’s always hard to answer questions like that in a short space of time. But part of the answer has to do with the rich tradition of spiritual psychotherapy found within the Orthodox Church. I touched on some of that in my 2016 OCAMPR talk in which I offered an Eastern Orthodox perspective on the psychology of gratitude. I thought this would be a good time to re-post my talk here for some of the new readers I recently picked up. Nothing I mention concerning the spirituality of gratitude is unique to Eastern Orthodox Christianity, but for me it was only after joining the Orthodox Church that I found out about this teaching through visits to monasteries and reading the examples and teachings of the saints revered in our tradition.
You’ve probably heard dozens of times about the need to have an “attitude of gratitude.” I have even talked about that on this blog. But I have come to believe that telling ourselves, “I need to have a grateful attitude” is about as helpful as telling ourselves to “have a dieting attitude” or to “have an exercise attitude.” As with dieting and exercise, so with gratitude: what counts is actually practicing it in a tangible way.
We often think that specific gratitude practices flow out of a prior attitude of gratitude. But usually it works the other way round. In her book The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown tells how she used to assume that the people who were naturally joyful were the grateful people. But after devoting countless hours to interviewing hundreds of people about joy and gratitude, a surprising pattern began to emerge. Brown’s research began showing that a conscious choice to engage in gratitude activities is the cause of joy, not the other way round. “Without exception,” Brown writes, “every person I interviewed who described living a joyful life or who described themselves as joyful, actively practiced gratitude and attributed their joyfulness to their gratitude practice…. When it comes to gratitude, the word that jumped out at me throughout this research process is practice.”
This post was originally published back in April, but I am reposting it after adding some more information on Stoicism and adding footnotes to the source material used in my research.
Ryan and Claire came from very different backgrounds. When Claire was growing up, she lived in constant fear of making her father angry. To the outside world, Claire and her six siblings appeared the very model of well-behaved children. In fact, once they were even featured on the cover a homeschool magazine. However, few people knew what life was really like for them—how their father would fly off the handle at the slightest provocation and how all the children lived in fear of making him upset. Claire developed a habit of keeping her deepest thoughts and feelings bottled up inside, sometimes even hidden from herself. As an adult, Claire was terrified of conflict and tended always to say what she thought the other person wanted to hear instead of expression what she really felt.
On July 21, 1944, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) was in the sick bay of the Tegel prison listening to the Nazi radio.
The Lutheran minister had been sent to prison the year before after the Gestapo discovered a financial irregularity stemming from an operation smuggling Jews into Switzerland. Though a prisoner of the Third Reich, Bonhoeffer knew he was safe as long as the Nazis did not discover the full extent of his seditious activities. He also knew that long-laid plans to assassinate Adolf Hitler were about to come to fruition. Any day he hoped to receive word that Hitler had been killed.
It had been a particularly unpleasant day at the office for Ranald.
It was only after being promoted to management six months earlier that Ranald realized how stressful his dream job actually was. Sure, it was nice to be getting a larger pay check and finally to pay off some debts. However, managing a team of people who insisted on being disorganized was taking its toll. Sometimes Ranald looked back wistfully on the days before he was put in charge of the entire department.
These were some of the thoughts going through Ranald’s mind as he drove home one Friday evening. He wanted nothing more than to just go home, switch on the TV and tune out. He knew that wouldn’t be possible. His wife and kids would have demands. They always did. The children would need help with homework, his teenage daughter would need to talk about her day, and his wife would expect his undivided attention as she shared about her own struggles.
This week our church was blessed to have Archimandrite Fadi visiting us and participating in our Lenten services. Fr. Fadi spent some time with the children of our homeschool co-op, sharing his testimony and helping to instruct them. One of the things he shared was the remarkable story of how he went from being a successful law professor in Lebanon to working along side the Orthodox Metropolitan in Mexico.
After last night’s Liturgy of the Pre-sanctified Gifts, we gathered downstairs as Fr. Fadi addressed us on many important topics, including the importance of finding joy in the present moment.
A couple years ago, while doing some work in London, I found myself with an eight day gap in my schedule. I decided to take the train to the quiet countryside of Essex where I had heard there was a Christian monastery that offered free accommodation to spiritual seekers.
As I sat in the train, watching the English countryside whiz by, I thought of a conversation I had a couple days earlier with the receptionist at the London hotel where I had been staying. The receptionist, a young Italian lady named Francesca, had a sharp elegant-looking Roman nose offset by soft dark eyes. She told me she had immigrated to the UK just a month before, after the severe economic conditions in Italy had forced her to come to London in search of work.