As I discern about committing to a life of poverty, chastity and obedience, I wonder which might be hardest for me. My guess: obedience.
My mom has described me as having been a willful child. More recently I've been called a contrarian, and a person who delivers strong opinions about everything. It seems innate. Even when I don't make a conscious decision to change things to meet my needs, my mind/body seems to do it on its own. Last week, I became suddenly convinced that an appointment was at 9 a.m., even though it's 8:30 every other week. Presumably my body had decided to sleep in. This is not the first time I've done this sort of thing of unconscious rescheduling.
These days, to see how I'd handle obedience, I've been experimenting with it in minor ways. Recently, during a work building remodeling/transition, a manager put a table in the middle of an open office space. And left it there. A permanent fixture for impromptu meetings. I have a real, palpable dislike of blocked passageways--a Feng Shui hangup that makes me physically uncomfortable. When I unconsciously spoke out in horror about the hurdle, this manager's manager said I should feel welcome to bring it up. But I knew that the table-choosing manager really wanted this furniture and wasn't getting much else that she wanted in the transition. So I decided to bite my tongue. It mostly worked. Other than now, as I write about the table and the thought of it makes my leg want to kick something, I usually don't think about it at all. It's just another obstacle in life to step around.
Of course, I'm not sure how a lifetime of obedience would go for me. Heck, I'm not even sure I did the right thing in biting my tongue, or that this is the kind of thing is what obedience is all about. Earlier today I met with a vocation director and she talked to me about how the friction in community life is a path to holiness. It reminded me of a quote in a book I'm reading about Thomas Merton: "The discipline [of writing] transformed him from a self-confessed middle-class prig into a struggling bohemian artist seek to forge in the smithy of his soul the uncreated conscience of his race" (editor Robert Inchausti). I can only suspect that what may be most difficult for me--community life and obedience--will be part of my spiritual path, the place where my soul is forged and formed.
