A Meditation/Ramble on Expectation

Now into Lent, I am thinking of the idea, culled from Fr Thomas Hopko, that one should have no expectations of either being praised or pitied, and that one should only expect to be tempted until his very last breath.

This is a difficult idea because I usually expect, at the very least, for other people to be polite to me (even if I'm not particularly polite to them.) It occurs to me at that level that one's expectations tie into issues of security, what we treasure, where the needle balances on my personal absorption ratio (i.e., the tension between how self-centered and deluded I am in contrast to how clearly I can see other people).

My own experience seems to be that my expectations are routinely destroyed, most often through the scandal of my life, and I end up being in a situation "I never expected" or never thought would happen. I never thought, for instance, I would be twice divorced, or that rather than being a successful, bestselling novelist by the age of thirty, I'm still a struggling unemployed hack at forty. On the more positive side, I never expected to have children and to love them so much. If you asked me when I was twenty-five if I wanted kids, I would have been ambivalent on the subject, or said it didn't matter to me. Now, having two beautiful sons, I would not have it any other way, though I never expected it.

There are obviously many people who have had expectations dashed, given the present economic crisis. Losing fortunes, billionaires kill themselves. Others have their homes foreclosed, lose their investments, their retirement funds, their life savings and their jobs. The pastor in Illinois who was gunned down and murdered over the weekend likely didn't expect such a thing to happen. So although I may have appropriate expectations, such as to be able to eat, to be able to work and live without being violated, to have access to health care and the freedom to live in a healthy environment, and to give and receive mutual respect from my neighbors -- expectations bound up in human dignity -- it is naive and foolish to hold onto these. It is naive and foolish because the world is in a state of ruin, and although redeemed and liberated by Christ, the process of its eschatological realization is slow.

One also tends to expect that certain conditions or circumstances will end in happiness. If I get a high-paying job and a house in the country, I will be happy. That sort of thing. I know people who run from one to the next, indefinitely, always sure they will find the happiness they seek in the next brainstorm or fantasy, in money, in another person, in a vacation to Tahiti, a new car, a church, or whatever. It doesn't pan out. But such a person diligently runs on to the next pipe dream, thinking, "this time, I will make it work!"

Personally, I do not tend to do this, but my expectations, which are strongly attached to feeling secure, are just as badly bound up in more immediate concerns, the desire to be seen or loved, and the demand that other people live up to their obligations or promises. We often do not, however, live up to all of our obligations. People let us down, and screw up. For me, part of the way of not giving into the impulse of seeking my own safety and security in other people, or in expecting others to meet certain needs that they cannot possibly, in reality, truly meet, is to recognize and remember how often I have screwed up, put myself first, not met my most basic obligations to other people, and have let other people down.

I have learned this through repetition in the context of Christian communities. I've been in bad situations, both as a Protestant and Orthodox Christian. The history of Israel and of the Church is filled with bad situations. I like how Fr David Anderson once put it, when he said, "the church has always had its sleazy side." Without it, the epistles, most of which are corrective, might not have been written. The sleaze is everywhere and in all of us. That is why I am in the Church, to be cured from the disease of my own sleaze. One's expectation should not be bound up in a certain person, a pastor or bishop or situation, but, obviously, in Christ. Everyone says this. However, I still come across people who have left the Church, disavowed Christ, or gone on their way into something else because they are "disillusioned" due to some scandal, or because some people or a group of people let them down. But if we, as Fr Thomas advises, "expect only to be tempted to our very last breath", the failures of others would not have such an effect. False or misplaced expectations can have devastating consequences.

Recently, I heard the spiritual son of Fr Sophrony, who was the spiritual son of St Silouan, on Ancient Faith Radio. He talked about how to respond when other people hurt you. On a most basic level, I think most people, including myself, have the expectation of being treated civilly. Fr Zahkaria pointed out that when someone says an unkind word, or treats one badly, it is a wound that cannot be avoided, and should be acknowledged as such. One is inflicted, one is wounded. But he said that at this point, one has a choice: one can judge the person who has wounded him by thinking such thoughts as, "he's not a very good person", or "I didn't deserve that", which is unproductive and not helpful. Or, he said, one can turn the infliction into a pathway into the heart, and in prayer, use the energy of the wound to pray, not in self-righteousness, "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, the sinner." This, he indicated, strengthens the spirit, and encourages one's own heart to love even his enemy.

That comes to the root of my rambling meditation on the subject, which is (and as a fool I include this but bear with me) a dream that I had the other night. I had a dream that I was guilty of a sin, and when I went to Church to confess, I was not allowed in. I was blocked by an invisible barrier, like St Mary of Egypt. I thought, "this is what happened to St Mary of Egypt", and with a sense of panic, I tried to find a side way into the building, but was invisibly blocked. It was a big building, a church I have never seen in real life. Finally, a priest came out to see me, some long-haired, long-bearded guy, who listened to my confession, then waved his hand as if it was inconsequential, like, "yeah, whatever." Rather than address the particular sin I had confessed, he said, "what are you ever going to do about your terrible pride?"

That, I think, is the nub. I expect certain things from other people, or certain things to happen for me, because I think I deserve it. I deserve it because I think I am something I am not, and people generally think they are more worthy than they are. There are legitimate expectations intrinsic to human dignity, which cannot be counted on to be fulfilled due to the fallen state of reality. But most expectations, I think, arise from an elevated sense of the self, in self-absorption and pride. But if we are humble, which means having a real view of ourselves, we will expect nothing but to be tempted, per Fr Thomas, until our very last breath, and when other people sin against us, that is only an opportunity to forgive.

The Ladder of Divine Ascent

I've been enjoying reading this book a little during Lent this year, and I could go on for a long time about the experience I've had in doing this. A couple thoughts:

First, I've been hearing a lot recently about the lack of respect people show each other these days. I see this a lot in my work place. Its cool to just tease the heck out of people that you're close to, all in the name of joking around and having a good time. On the whole, everyone involved has a good time, with occassional feelings getting hurt. St. John of the Ladder does not like this. He tells us that we should treat everyone as though we have just met them, that we should live as though we are in exile from our homeland. I strongly recommend his Step 3: "On Exile."

Second, as always, my favorite step is step 4: "On Obedience." Those who know should be laughing at this thought, but I assure you that I enjoy it so much because it strikes me at the heart every time. I cannot even begin to characterize his text. He teaches me to set my own desires down. I walk away from this, remembering that there is so much for me to try to figure out in my own life, that I can stop worrying about what others are doing (or not).