The Struggle to be Sincere

By Fr. Ron Rolheiser, OMI

Who are we really? Who are we when we are stripped naked in soul: stripped of ego, stripped of the image we have of ourselves, stripped of the hype, fads, and ideologies that we unconsciously inhale and which color our thinking, stripped of the trauma we carry from our wounds, and stripped of our habitual unconscious posturing?

When are we sincere?

In a popular understanding, the word sincere comes from two Latin words: Sine (meaning without) and Cera (meaning wax). To be sincere is to be without wax, that is, to be who we truly are beneath all the levels of ego, self-image, ideology, trauma, and unconscious posturing that beset us. It’s not easy to be sincere, given the baffling complexities of our minds and hearts. It’s hard to dig beneath it all to touch who we really are.

So, when are we sincere? I offer two stories in response.

The first comes from Ruth Burrows, one of the deep mystical writers of recent times. She tells this story of how, one day, all the wax was stripped away and she found herself naked in soul.

She grew up in England and both she and her family were not particularly religious. Her parents sent her to an all-girls private school run by an order of nuns, not for religious reasons but because the education there was superior to that of the local public schools.

She did her high school years there, never really immersing herself in her faith. Then, in preparation for their graduation, the nuns took the students to a renewal center for a retreat. Ruth and one of classmates did not take the retreat seriously, but giggled, snickered, and passed notes to each other during the conferences given by the retreat director. So, at a point, the nuns pulled Ruth and her friend out of the group and, while her classmates were listening to a lecture, Ruth and her friend had to sit silently in the chapel for those hours, under the watchful eye of a nun. Initially, Ruth confesses, she and her friend still fought being serious; they still giggled and winked at each other.

But the hours were long! And during one particularly long period of silence, she had a moment of grace, of clarity, of sincerity, of nakedness of soul. In the moment, she saw herself for who she really was – a young woman, air-headed, not thinking straight, caught up ego and hype, but also, underneath it all, a good, loving person loved warmly by God. The single moment of clarity changed her life.

This graced moment came to Ruth Burrows seemingly unbidden, though no doubt the deeper levels her mind and heart were inviting that graced visitation.

My second story is more earthy, but powerful precisely because of that. Some years ago, I had close friend, only 54 years of age, dying of cancer. When he entered hospice, I brought him Therese of Lisieux’ book, The Story of a Soul. Some days later, as we talked on the phone, he shared this: “Thank you for the book by Therese of Lisieux, it’s the only thing I can still read. When you’re dying, it cuts away all the bullshit. You know what’s real and what’s not.”  The dying process was his mystical moment; it brought him to sincerity.

So, how do we get there? How do we cut through all that sits between us and sincerity, between us and nakedness of soul?

We need to consciously take that to daily prayer. Indeed, during the second half of life our basic struggle in our prayer is precisely to try to bring ourselves to nakedness of soul, to be before God and our ourselves without wax. We need to take our struggle to God. This is the very essence of contemplative prayer, of contemplation.

Thomas Merton once said: “With God, a little sincerity goes a long, long way.”  We can take consolation in knowing that God understands that the struggle is hard, and that most of the time we have at least a little sincerity. And we can touch our sincerity through an intention that transcends the struggle with our feelings.

Here’s an example from Thomas Merton on how to express that intention to prayer.

“My Lord God, I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.”

However, when we get to sincerity and nakedness of soul, the effect may surprise us.

As Merton puts it: “Let no one hope to find in contemplation an escape from conflict, from anguish, or from doubt.” On the contrary, the deep certitude of contemplative experience awakens a tragic anguish and opens many questions in the depth of the heart like wounds that cannot stop bleeding.”

But always remember: “With God, a little sincerity goes a long, long way.”

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Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher, and award-winning author. 

He can be contacted through his website  www.ronrolheiser.com. He is also on Facebook www.facebook.com/ronrolheiser

Find Fr. Rolheiser’s past columns online, along with an explanation for the column’s title “In Exile”: RonRolheiser.com/ARCHIVE