Perfectly Imperfect

A self-proclaimed perfectionist, I am the furthest thing from perfect. I make mistakes all the time. I make bad decisions. I do things that I regret. Even just right there, I misspelled regret (I actually did it again when writing it for a second time!). The perfectionist in me, though, fixed it.

The difference between a sinner and a saint isn't that the saint never fails. It's that after failing, the saint picks himself back up and tries again.

Only two perfect people ever walked the face of the Earth: Jesus and His Mother Mary. That's it. Even John the Baptist, who was probably pretty darn good, said that he was unfit to even loosen the strap on Jesus's sandals. We know Peter's fallible story. Paul was Saul. Augustine needed his mother to advocate on his behalf in prayer in order to turn more fully toward God. Ignatius had aspirations to be a hero in physical warfare, not spiritual.

The Communion of Saints is filled with reformed sinners. It's not that they didn't sin; it's that they continued to get back up after falling.

I wouldn't have a job (or at least the job that I currently hold) without imperfections.

Life would be pretty boring without imperfections.

Faith would be unnecessary without imperfections. We'd have no need for a Savior. We'd have no need for each other.

Life would be perfectly imperfect without imperfections.

In this way, being imperfect isn't a bad thing. It's doesn't make me bad. It doesn't make salvation an unattainable goal. It makes me human. God doesn't expect me to be perfect. He expects me to try.

How awesome would it be if in our schools we found a way to humbly accept our imperfections while at the same time not settling for them? Envision how incredible schools could be if administrators admitted that they were wrong. Imagine if parents and families embraced the fact that their children make mistakes. Consider the tremendous growth that teachers could experience by pledging to a spirit of continuous improvement. See the irony in the fact that places of education - Catholic schools included - have existence because of imperfections and yet have such a difficult time coming to terms with them.

It's not complacency with mediocrity. It's not pessimism. It's acceptance.

I am imperfect and God loves me. You are imperfect and God loves you. Every student and teacher and parent and family member and administrator in every school - Catholic and public and private alike - are imperfect and loved by God.

This acceptance doesn't keep me or us in the mud. It liberates us to get back up no matter how many times we fall face down into it.

Get back up. Get back up. Get back up.

You are perfectly imperfect and you are perfectly loved.

Accept it.

And get back up.

The Law

We have certain non-negotiable rules that Elizabeth must follow:

-Look both ways before crossing the street (which for now is also coupled with having to hold either my or Emily's hand).

-Give Catherine another toy if you take one from her.

-Hold our hand in a parking lot.

-Pray before going to bed.

My brother and I (above) recently completed a Tough Mudder mud run. The race has certain non-negotiables, too. They make participants recite and abide by the following pledge: "I understand that the Tough Mudder is not a race but a challenge. I put teamwork and camaraderie before my course time. I do not whine - kids whine. I help my fellow Mudders complete the course. I overcome all fears."

Also recently, I had the opportunity to visit one of Elizabeth's toddler classes at a local Christian church. Attached to a school, the teacher in charge of the program did a wonderful job engaging both the students and the parents. As such, we engaged in a conversation about what I did for a living. After finding out that I was a principal of a Catholic school, she asked what our law was regarding teachers. 

Law? I immediately thought of certification laws, and safe environment mandates, and Level II background screenings. Confused, I asked her to clarify. 

She stated that all of the teachers in the schools attached to this particular sect of Christianity come from the same college. In this way, all of the people that work in their schools and for their churches have the same formation. 

"How do you know that your teachers follow the philosophy as you or the Catholic Church?" she asked.

I was at a loss to respond. The question continues to resonate with me almost one month later. How do principals of Catholic schools know that teachers they hire / employ are quality in both an educational and Catholic sense? Only so much can be gleaned from an interview. Reputation lives in the unsteady hands of other people. Even direct observations are corrupted by the the observer effect. Teachers within our Catholic schools have various backgrounds, experience, knowledge levels and faith lives. 

We must have faith in things unable to be seen.

So, this question about the law of Catholic school teachers lead my leadership-oriented mind to think about it from a broader perspective - what is the law of a Catholic school?

In looking for answers, I came across some great resources. First, Archbishop Miller writes:

A Catholic school should be inspired by a supernatural vision, founded on Christian anthropology, animated by communion and community, imbued with a Catholic worldview throughout its curriculum, and sustained by gospel witness. These benchmarks help to answer the critical question: Is this a Catholic school according to the mind of the Church (http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/education/ed0395.htm)?

The Pastoral Council on the Church in the Modern World states, "the Catholic school sets out to be a school for the human person and of human persons." 

Finally, the Center for Catholic School Effectiveness (School of Education, Loyola University Chicago), in partnership with the Roche Center for Catholic Education (School of Education, Boston College) compiled an entire set of defining characteristics, domains, standards and benchmarks to help Catholic schools determine their Catholicity, viability, academic excellence and success. The defining characteristics are as follows:

Catholic schools must be centered in the person of Jesus Christ.

Catholic schools must contribute to the evangelizing mission of the Church.

Catholic schools must be distinguished by excellence.

Catholic schools must be committed to educate the whole child.

Catholic schools must be steeped in a Catholic worldview.

Catholic schools must be sustained by Gospel witness.

Catholic schools must be shaped by Communion and community.

Catholic schools must be accessible to all students.

Catholic schools must be established by the expressed authority of the Bishop.

(from: http://www.catholicschoolstandards.org/files/Catholic_School_Standards_03-12.pdf)

Miss any one of these and you miss one of the defining characteristics of a Catholic school. Many dioceses across the country are moving to using this set of criteria to conduct school accreditations. Catholic schools everywhere would be wise to use them as a self-assessment to help them more closely live out the mission of Catholic education. 

It may not be the law (yet), but it helps to level the playing field across the broad range of Catholic schools and provides concrete goals for bearing the title Catholic. 

As for me and my school, it will act as a set of non-negotiables (like ensuring that I write at least one blog post a month), as we strive to serve the Lord. 

I Can't Shut Up

I've always wondered why Jesus told the blind man to stay silent about receiving his sight. I would think it some sort of masterful reverse psychology if it wasn't for the fact that Jesus wouldn't / couldn't / didn't need to manipulate people in this way. He was truth and lived in perfect accordance with who God created Him to be. He wouldn't have said it if He didn't mean it. He couldn't have said it if He didn't mean it. 

Instead of trying to analyze Jesus's motive here, outside of truly not wanting to draw attention to Himself, I am more intrigued by why the man who had been blind disobeys Jesus by spreading this good news and the Good News. As you can see there is some sort of contradiction here. Either Jesus is going against His nature - which can't be the case - or the formerly blind man blatantly, after having been the recipient of a miracle, disregards Jesus's desire and speaks. 

Perhaps it is because the man who had regained his sight couldn't do otherwise than proclaim it. He had literally been transformed by Jesus. The man's personal encounter with Jesus left the man changed in such a way that he was different than the person he was before meeting Jesus. It's the same reason that keeping a surprise of any sort is so darn hard. We have a desire to share news with others, but specifically good news. This man, blind from birth, now had sight! What could have been better? How could he not share that with others? 

In a similar way, I feel that I can't shut up about the joy of the Resurrection. I don't intend to blog as frequently as I had during Lent; I just couldn't seem to go to bed tonight, though. 

I just couldn't shut up. Don't be afraid to proclaim the Good News of Christ's Resurrection. Don't buy into the worldly message that Easter is over. 

It has only just begun. 

Happy Easter...for 49 more days. 

Don't shut up about it. Alleluia! 

It Is Finished

This marks my 40th blog from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. Technically, I failed in my attempt to compose 40 blogs over the course of the 40 days of Lent. We are currently in the season of the Triduum, the Church's shortest liturgical season and the period of time from Holy Thursday night until Holy Saturday's Easter Vigil. So, number 40 should have come before sundown on Thursday. Regardless, the task is complete.

It is finished.

As I've reflected over these past few days about what I'd say in this final blog, I've thought a lot about the irony in that my final blog, 40/40, would be about simplifying our lives. We are bombarded by messages. Think about the number of texts, emails, phone calls, and pieces of mail you receive on any given day. Then, think about the number of things that you "should" be checking up on - news, work or school related updates, financial statements, bills, church bulletins and other source of information in which you have a vested interest. Now, sprinkle in all of the Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, blogs and any other social media sights that you're plugged into and you have, in paragraph form, all of the ways that you are being inundated with information in a day.

Well, almost. Add in any time spent watching TV, listening to the radio, actually talking with real, live humans and then you have all of the ways in which you receive information in a day. Consider, though, which of these ways actually fill you with life? How many of your emails or texts? How many of the songs to which you listen? How about Facebook, Twitter, etc. updates? Does it really matter that Miley Cyrus just ate dinner? Does it really matter that this is the 40th blog out of 40 between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday?

How would our lives be different with less information bombarding us? Or, how would your life be different if you only devoted time to the things - hopefully people - that really matter? How would our lives be different if one of the sources of information bombarding us was actually God? This isn't to say that He's not communicating; it is to say that we're not listening. How different would your life be if you actually had more time to hear God's word and then had more time and energy to actually listen to it?

I don't participate in many of the informational avenues mentioned above; remember that my phone is still dumb. I don't respond to work emails past 9 p.m. I barely text. I make a point to connect with my wife and daughters every day. I don't watch TV. And, I don't make or take enough time to hear and listen to God's word. I already feel saturated.

So, again, I feel it is ironic that I have potentially saturated the lives of those who have been with me over the past 40 blogs with just another noisy gong banging for their attention and doing nothing more than numbing their heads. I am sorry if my musings have done anything except point you to God. I hope they have been life giving. I hope that they have been insightful. I hope and pray that even one of them has caused you to reflect more, pray more, laugh more, cry more, love more, live more.

But, I hope that they haven't just added to the clutter.

Despite the extra burden of writing a blog a day (more or less), I feel that this exercise really has brought me closer to Jesus. Taking the time to create as opposed to just receive has kept a lot of unwelcome information away. It has forced me to search for sources of inspiration. It has challenged me to live with the eyes, ears and heart of faith straining my senses and my sensibilities to see, hear and accept God's messages.

I have tried, in my incredibly limited way, to pass these messages along.

So here is one final message: It is finished; it's also time to begin.

Soon and very soon there won't be any more crying and there won't be any more dying; we are going to see the King.

My Lenten journey is just about over. Yours is, too. In the spirit of this blog post I plan to go off line for at least a few days. But, true to the spirit of this message, I won't stop blogging. Lent is over. Easter, however, is about to begin.

Don't be fooled by the messages - He's in the tomb, the stone is too large for anyone to move, there is no hope, He is dead. In this way, be careful and purposeful about what gets your time and attention. Both are precious and valuable and worthy of your intentionality as to how they are allotted.

Give them to God. Give everything to God.

Seek Him. Find Him. Hear Him. Listen to Him. Follow Him.

You won't find Him or His messages in the tomb. The stone is rolled away...Sunday's coming.

Good Friday

Elizabeth and Catherine visited Disney World for the first time today. Please know that I'm somewhat ashamed to have taken my family to the happiest place on earth on such an important day within the liturgical calendar. My conscience definitely reminded me more than once of the juxtaposition between this Friday and Good Friday.

For anyone who has been to the park over what Disney terms "Spring Break" (the weeks before and after Easter), you will know that the crowds offer some semblance of penance, though. It was packed. Also, trying to keep kids from melting down at this superlatively happy place presents, at times, a huge challenge.

Of course these reasons for justifying this trip are absurd and I offer them in jest. But, I did seriously reflect on Good Friday, despite being surrounded by such festivity. 

First and perhaps most obviously, I think that part of what makes Disney so successful, at perhaps what is a subconscious level, is that its stories touch on archetypal themes of good vs. evil and that everyone - no matter their origin - has an important part to play within this battle. These types of stories resonate with us. They give allow us to believe that there is something magical about our lives, something at work that we cannot quite explain. While I doubt that they would admit it, and I feel almost sacrilegious claiming it, but Disney's story is ultimately a Christian story.

The goodness of their unfailingly optimistic leader, Mickey Mouse, is downright saccharine at times. How can someone continuously be so darn happy, especially when Pluto hides the keys to his Mickey Mobile or when Donald gets the gang into a bind with Pete? The overall positivity of all cast members (Disney speak for employees) as well as any Disney story is parallel to the Christian message. Good will win. It will always win. 

This connection goes even deeper. The Disney story, unexpectedly because of this emphasis on being happy, does not discount the real presence of evil within the world. Even their parking lots are separated and labeled as heroes and villains. Evil is present and real. Life can be hard. People can be mean. Bad things happen. Good, however, will still win. Good, however, will always win. 

Christ, the real Incarnate of goodness, can be condemned. He can be betrayed. He can be whipped, humiliated, tortured, mocked and even killed. But good will win. Good will always win. 

Today is called Good Friday because we know the story doesn't end today. It doesn't end in death. Evil doesn't triumph. Good has to win. The story has to have a happy ending. Sunday has to come. Sunday will come. Sunday will always come.

Today was a good Friday; however, it pales in comparison to Good Friday. Good - Christ - will always win, even over the memories created at the happiest place on earth. 

Today. Tomorrow. Sunday. Always.

Christ will always win.  

    

Call Me Michael

My dad's full name was Robert Michael Zelenka. My name is Michael Robert Zelenka.

Call me Michael.

I love my name. I love that my first name was my dad's middle name. And as his middle name it is a part of his name that wasn't shortened. Some people knew my dad as Bob and some from his childhood even continued to call him Bobby even up to the point of his funeral. But Michael was never adulterated. It was always Michael.

Call me Michael.

I love that my name means "He who is like God." I know that I am the furthest thing from being like God. Like St. John the Baptist and St. Paul, I, too, am unfit to even touch Christ's sandal. But, when I think about God as our Father, especially when I consider my own father in relation to the Father, I love the symbolism behind my name - I am like my fathers.

I turned 34 today. Back when my father first passed away I had many and various ideas about how I would like the death of my father to be marked in my life. I still have a list of ways that I want to be sure that I'm different, forever changed because of his death. One of those ways was to use my full name - Michael.

I have other ideas - I want to communicate with people, especially those I love, more and more effectively. I want to pray more often. I want to ensure that I set aside even more time to strengthen my marriage to the most wonderful woman in the world (I love you, Emily). I want to schedule out my time so as to create a healthy balance between work, home, and my personal life that tips in favor of my family.

I wanted to ensure that I was a better man because of the fact that my dad was my dad. I wanted to accomplish, in typical fashion for me, all of this by March 28. Be done with grieving. Be a better dad, more loving husband, more loyal friend. In less than four months. New life isn't even created that quickly.

But, transformations are possible with God. Tomorrow may be Friday. It may be the end of the story for characters like Pilate and Judas, but it isn't for Peter and Joseph of Arimathea and Mary and the other women and disciples and it isn't the end for Jesus either. Sunday and the Resurrection are coming. Jesus is transformed. Peter is transformed. We can be transformed. Made new. Given new life. Given new purpose. Given a new name.

Paul was knocked off of a horse. Peter received his call in a boat. My father died.

It may be Friday, but Sunday's coming. Let this Sunday not only start a new week and a new liturgical season but may it also start a new you, a better you, the you that you were created to be.

The story doesn't end in death. Yours doesn't either. Neither does mine.

Call me Michael.

Failure is Not Only an Option

"Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine! Then the fates will know you as we know you: as Albert Mondego, the man!"

-from the movie adaptation of the novel, "The Count of Monte Cristo" by Alexander Dumas

As we listen to the story of the Last Supper and the ensuing Passion and death of our Lord over the course of the Triduum and leading up to the Easter Vigil and eventual season, I have always been struck by the stark contrast between Peter and Judas. Both men fail. Both men betray Jesus. Both men show their humanity in such dark and troubling ways within the span of a few hours. We can also assume that both men would receive the same type of forgiveness if they had been willing to receive it.

Peter sought forgiveness; Judas did not. Peter allowed Easter to transform him; Judas did not. The difference between a sinner and a saint isn't that the saint never sins. It's that the saint, after falling, picks himself back up and tries once more to live a good life. Peter, as he is painted throughout the Gospels, is the epitome of this mantra. 

Get back up. Get back up. Get back up. 

In a sense, Peter is the ideal student. He tries. Goodness, does Peter try. He's not afraid to make mistakes like trying to set up tents for Jesus, Elijah and Moses during the Transfiguration. Mistakes like trying to walk on water - which he actually does for a few steps. Mistakes like being so brash as to say that he won't betray Jesus - which he actually does, three times. But, Peter doesn't give up. Despite some major failures, some big falls, Peter always gets back up. He keeps trying. 

Get back up. Get back up. 

Jesus, his Teacher, tells Peter that there will be a test, "Behold Satan has demanded to sift all of you like 
wheat." Jesus knows that it will be a difficult one, especially for Peter. Jesus continues, "But I have prayed that your own faith may not fail." Finally, Jesus encourages Peter and even if the test doesn't go well, that all will be well if he just remains faithful, "And once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers" (Luke 22:32)

Peter doesn't pass. But, luckily for Peter, his education doesn't end with Jesus's death. There is more to learn and the Teacher comes back to continue teaching. Luckily, Peter comes back to continue learning. Peter's education receives new life in Easter. He doesn't let an "F" keep him from taking another test. 

Get back up. 

Peter was resilient. He was a rock. He was the rock. 

Failure is not only an option for me, you, our students, Peter, Judas and everyone it is a guarantee. We will fail. We will make mistakes. We will fall. What we do after that failure, though, is what makes us who we are. Will you wallow face down in the mud or get back up? 

It may be close to Friday, but Sunday's coming...get back up.