Humans Being Human Beings

So I think I finally got it – or at least had it for a moment – it comes and goes.  Sitting in a hotel room in Manila being bored off my backside (I hear it now, only boring people can be bored) and wondering what to do when the Maid gets here to clean up my mess, I think I got it again.
Saints are the only fully-human beings out there.  The rest of us are striving for it, following this plan or that plan with faddish delight, or gym-bunny urgency, or lackadaisical lack of energy becoming a teenager wearing too much black to move this week.
Gay people can’t be saints.  Neither can straight people.
Black people can’t be saints.  Neither can white people.
Women can’t be saints.  Neither can men.
Only Human Beings can be saints.  You may be male, female, slave or free, attracted to the same or opposite sex, wearing dresses or jeans or bow ties and John Lennon glasses or Elton John Sunglasses, but only by walking away from all that in to fully Human Being can you be saved.
I’m ok, with debating what it means to be saved at this point. I know there are different version of the idea out there: but what I’m clear on is this really recent, late 20th Century Idea of “I Do it Because You Ain’t The Boss of Me” is as reactive as “I hear and obey”.  Claiming to be an self-generating and self-empowered ego is, well, exactly that: an ego. The Church has an idea of how to help people to be persons, of how to turn egos into saints.  So does Buddhism, so does Paganism, so do even a few secularists.  We all disagree on what it means, so you still have to pick.  I get that. But Oprah’s idea of stare at your belly in love until you love yerself enough to love others is about you – not about becoming human beings. None of us are human yet. We’re only trying to be with varying degrees of success. And if we were already human everyone else around us would be human as well.
Being a self generating ego point is objectifying in the first person, the second person and the third person. Being human subjectifies everyone around us – we all become points of ambient intercommunion  And I don’t know anyone like that yet – least of all me. Although I have been blessed to know some who came close.
Sure, God loves you, but if you really loved God you’d get off your ass and start to lose some of that psychic obesity you’ve gained sitting on the couch letting your spiritual arteries harden. If you think it’s all about you knowing God loves you, then you may be all you care about. God loving you doesn’t make you human, though: it means only that you have a shot at becoming one.  God expects something more from you than you’ve yet done. It does, however, mean you’re worthy of becoming human.
You do have the right to remain silent. Claiming to be human and demanding “human rights” is the first sign you’re not.

Author: Huw Richardson

I'm no Benedictine, but I'm too old for the Franciscans. I'm in the process of moving servers... so trying to keep both of my "linked sites" in sync until there's only one. There can be only one. Huw Richardson was born in Atlanta under a different name about 55 years ago. I never knew my father nor any of his kin. I’ve lived all over: I was never in the same house for 3 Christmases until I was over 40. I’ve not yet made it to 4. Rootlessness seems to be a way of life and every time I think I’m about to root, it ends up not happening. Yet I’ve made some amazing friends online. I’ve met some awesome people all over the world. I’ve met religious leaders and heads of state and famous movie stars. I’ve also managed to be debt-free. I’ve stood on the Hill of Tara and touched the Lia Fail. It did not cry out. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone as well, if you can’t guess. I have illicitly touched ancient, holy statues to see if anything would happen and I have never used flash photography when I should not have. I’ve been a bookseller, a call center drone, a trainer, a convert, a preacher, a monk, a planter, a secretary, a writer, and an activist. My patron is Blessed Stanley Rother. When I’m in trouble, he’s got my back. He prays for me, along with St Rose of Lima, St. Catherine of Siena, St John Henry Newman, Bl Fulton J Sheen, and Bl. William Richardson. I’m a Dominican Tertiary and a member of Courage International. This is home: I’ve found my roots by using my wings. What’s next? I don’t know. Part of me wants to just pick out a camper and gig my way around the world. Part of me wants to own a pub in Ireland and feed my soul with good music until forever. Part of me has always taught. Some part of me dances whenever the moon is full. Another part of me kneels in awe in the darkness as all the stars spin but the cross stands still.