Henri Nouwen, in a small but deeply insightful book entitled, With Open Hands, describes wonderfully the difference between metanoia and paranoia. He suggests that there are two fundamental postures with which we can go through life. We can, he says, go through life in the posture of paranoia. The posture of paranoia is symbolized by a closed fist, by a protective stance, by habitual suspicion and distrust. Paranoia has us feeling that we forever need to protect ourselves from unfairness, that others will hurt us if we show any vulnerability, and that we need to assert our strength and talents to impress others. Paranoia quickly turns warmth into cold, understanding into suspicion, and generosity into self-protection.
Jesus, in his message and his person, invites us to metanoia, to move towards and stay within our big minds and big hearts, so that in the face of a stinging remark our inner doors of warmth and trust do not close.
One of my oldest friends has become a stranger. Gradually, each yearly domino has come to bear on its predecessor, until the cascade has landed here: from closest of friends to bare acquaintance. My attempts at staying in touch are met with silence. Take a hint, I tell myself.
But these foolish times mark a small demonstration of the power of metanoia. On a grand scale, we look to the likes of St. Paul, St. Augustine and Dorothy Day for the drama of life-altering change. Change can be incredibly difficult; it is also both possible and not to be expected. We read the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, who experienced metanoia in the masked presence of the risen Christ, and we can identify. We have all had those moments when our hearts indeed burn within us, and we are aflame with the possibility and the consuming desire to be more. We want to reach beyond ourselves.
Some days I am tempted to agree with them. Why do I bother? My friend has chosen distance, both physically and emotionally, and ignores weddings, births and deaths in our old circle of friends. For most of us, she is a memory.
It is easy to believe in metanoia intellectually, as an item on a list of concepts in which one believes. It is harder to believe in the face of strong opposing signs. And it is harder still to live it. Staying in touch, keeping channels (doors, windows) open, is a first step. Lately it seems a futile step.
My 12-step friends tell me I am wasting my energy on an impossible task. They say that while my efforts may make me feel better, I should not expect any results. The only person you can change, say 12-step programs, is yourself. I understand that principle as a practical way to keep from losing your mind and life to an addiction. But is that a reason to give up on others? Is that the death of hope?
Donate Here Welcome to the Metanoia Center Transforming People and PlaceMetanoia is a Greek word that is classically defined as "afterthought", from "meta" meaning "after" or "beyond" and "nous" meaning "mind" or "thought". In Classical Greek metanoia meant changing one's mind about someone or something. Biblically, metanoia is used to refer to the change of mind/heart which is brought about in repentance. Another word used in conjunction with the definition of metanoia is transformation. Thus metanoia is the changing, transformation, of ones mind, or heart, that results in a change, or transformation, of lifestyle. You might say that a transformation of lifestyle is evidence of a transformed mind and heart. It is our conviction that true, lasting metanoia occurs through Biblical re-birth that results in the restoration of relationship with God, the Creator, that then leads to restoration of relationship with others, creation and self: a wholistic change that results in the transformation of people and place.
Living the present with passion means becoming "experts in communion", "witnesses and architects of the 'plan for unity' which is the crowning point of human history in God's design". In a polarized society, where different cultures experience difficulty in living alongside one another, where the powerless encounter oppression, where inequality abounds, we are called to offer a concrete model of community which, by acknowledging the dignity of each person and sharing our respective gifts, makes it possible to live as brothers and sisters. So, be men and women of communion! Have the courage to be present in the midst of conflict and tension, as a credible sign of the presence of the Spirit who inspires in human hearts a passion for all to be one (cf. Jn 17:21). Live the mysticism of encounter, which entails "the ability to hear, to listen to other people; the ability to seek together ways and means". Live in the light of the loving relationship of the three divine Persons (cf. 1 Jn 4:8), the model for all interpersonal relationships.
Recently I was on a panel about racism in religious communities of women, as part of the celebration of the 150th anniversary of the presence of the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ in the United States.
Coming from my own experiences in my religious community and the larger Marianist Family, I've noted that though we minister to people on the margins, they are rarely our friends, coworkers or people we invite to social gatherings. If we never truly encounter the "other" (however we define that) on an equal footing, then our hearts will never change and we cannot become people of communion.
Standing with the marginalized is a call for the whole church. This begs the question, however, how do we stand with the marginalized? With what attitude or disposition do we stand? The call is not only to stand with the marginalized, but to identify with and become one with the marginalized.
This metanoia requires dialogue in addition to encounter. Our society desperately needs good witnesses of dialogue and bridge building. To solve the issues facing our nation and communities, we need examples of how to disagree without demonizing, and how to engage in conversation.
[Nicole Trahan is a member of the Daughters of Mary Immaculate (Marianist Sisters) who teaches sophomore religion at Chaminade Julienne Catholic High School, serves as the National Director of Vocations for the Marianist Sisters, and is director of the pre-novitiate program for her province.]
In so many of the rooms in our minds, there are harmless old ropes thrown in corners. When our fear begins to work on us, we convert those old ropes into monsters, who hold us prisoner in the bleakest, most impoverished rooms of our minds. Outside of these rooms there are glories waiting for us, but we remain transfixed and sometimes even paralyzed by our fears. For far too long now, the old rope of repentance has inspired fear in far too many people and humanity is not the better for it.
Agree! I happened to stumble on the word metanoia and it has changed my life. Knowing the word meant turn to God, a spiritual transformation; and not feel regret for what you have done; is a real game changer.
Amazing how one word can change everything. Thanks for your post!
Amen! Translating metanoia as repentance is a perfect example of our desire for control and inability to shift our paradigm! Repent implies we know the gaps of our life- Jesus was not preaching problem solving!
It has been well understood for some time now that COVID-19 and its ensuing global pandemic are unprecedented events in our contemporary world. Not since the Influenza Pandemic of 1918 has global life been so drastically altered so quickly due to a viral outbreak.
In the century since 1918, countless individuals, organizations, and nations have striven to eradicate the unnumbered diseases, parasites, and structural barriers that cause unnecessary death, needless suffering, and the squandering of human potential.
Paul Farmer is one of those individuals. Chair of the Department of Global Health and Social Medicine at Harvard Medical School, Farmer is co-founder of Partners in Health, serves as a Special Advisor to the United Nations, and has authored several books on the topics of global health, human rights, and international cooperation.
Some person should see these calamities to their end. If there were a single moment at which the English antislavery movement became inevitable, it was that day in June 1785 when Thomas Clarkson sat down by the side of the road at Wades Mill. That moment would reverberate throughout the remaining sixty-one years of his life and beyond. For us today, it is a landmark on the long, torturous path to the modern conception of human rights.
This metanoia was hard for me. The brutal sledgehammer of poverty and disease was striking the people we sought to serve; it was hard, even, to watch. But Haiti taught me a great lesson, the very lesson underpinning the revolution that brought down slavery there in 1804: human life and human values cannot have price tags attached to them.
As to the value of the 800,000 lives in the balance books of Washington, during those last weeks we received a shocking call from an American staffer, whose name I have long forgotten. He was engaged in some sort of planning exercise and wanted to know how many Rwandans had died, how many were refugees, and how many were internally displaced. He told me that his estimates indicated that it would take the deaths of 85,000 Rwandans to justify the risking of the life of one American soldier. It was macabre, to say the least.
I promised I would not try to be an amateur theologian, but what could be more soulful than allowing yourself to be open to epiphany and metanoia and so to know the suffering of others? To have your road angst followed by action? To admit failure and to soldier on?
As someone who is on the road a great deal, I feel a deep admiration for his epiphany, metanoia, and praxis. Back then there were no frequent-rider miles or upgrades to a better saddle or a faster horse. What he and others did was hard work.
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