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“We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures. We are the sum of the Father’s love for us.”

Pope John Paul II at World Youth Day Toronto 2002

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We men do not like to be weak. In fact, our weakness terrifies us. We will do just about anything not to be weak or to be perceived as such, especially by other men. This has certainly been true for me. Let me give you an example.

About seven years ago, the local fire chief gave Madonna House six months to do some major renovations to bring three of the dormitories at St. Mary’s up to fire code. I was put in charge of the project.

Because thirty women lived in those rooms and needed to be housed elsewhere during that time, it took us three months to organize this. Then once everyone had moved out, we only had three months to do the work.

We removed all the old dry-wall and wood panelling. We removed walls and built new ones. We changed the heating system and put in new wiring and a new fire alarm system. We insulated, dry-walled, painted, refinished, and made new beds and cabinets. The only things we didn’t re-do were the bathrooms.

Somehow it all got done. Among other things, the Lord sent us men guests who were contractors, plumbers, painters—men who were good, capable workers. I like to call that summer “the summer of miracles.”

However, as we got closer to the date when we had to finish, the little extras I had hoped to do had to be let go. We cut some corners and I ignored imperfections in the painting and dry wall.

We finished on time, and the day came when all was ready for the women to move back in.

The night before they did so, I could not sleep, not because I was excited or anxious but because I felt that I had failed. As I lay in bed that night, all I could think of were the little imperfections, the minute details, the extras I had hoped to impress the women with that did not get done.

I was just so oppressed by these failures that all I could do was to lie there in bed and cry. I had failed again. From my lack of prowess at sports to my struggle with school work as a child, I had been a failure. I had failed all my life.

And now I was failing as a man because I could not stop crying. I put a pillow over my head so that my roommates would not hear me. If they did, my failure would be complete.

Except for the grace of obedience that comes from years of being at Madonna House, I would not have gone to lauds, our community prayer, that morning. I would never have gotten out of bed!

I might as well get this over with, I thought. Let everyone know what a failure I am and then pack my bags and go.

After lauds that morning, I told my spiritual director how much of a failure I was, but before I could tell him I was leaving, he told me to rebuke that lie. I did and he prayed over me, sending the Father of Lies back to hell where he belongs.

The rest of the day I was never far from tears, but I was able to receive the gratitude and praise of those who were moving back into their dorms.

I am telling you this story because it was the start of my journey into the truth.

For this experience confronted me with the question, “What is it to be a man?” And why did I feel that I had failed at being one?

Last September, I had the opportunity to watch a documentary on the crisis in masculinity. It explored that question: What is it to be a man? And: what are the obstacles which our culture and society put in the way of boys becoming men?

One obstacle is the terrible question that our culture asks us in so many hidden ways: “Are you man enough?”

This is a terrible question to ask anyone, especially yourself. There is so much shame implied by it.

So many of us men feel that we do not come up to what is expected of us. As a result, many of us wear masks to hide our pain and emotions. Some of us do not even know we are wearing masks. As a result, we are unable to remove these masks and so are enslaved or even destroyed by them.

For a long time I was living behind my mask, and I would like to share with you my journey to a space where, even though I am not able to completely live without it, I am at least able to take it off more and more.

What is it to be a man? Why have I struggled with a sense of not being man enough?

I was skinny, never able to put on muscle. I grew up with a brother who was a star athlete whereas I was not. I was more interested in making things, in doing art work, than most of the boys I knew.

So when I got older I began to question my sexuality. This is normal, but it was possibly more intense because of the sexual abuse I had experienced.

Was I really man enough? Well, according to the stereotypes our culture was putting forward, no, I was not. But the picture that our culture paints of manhood is not the final answer. It is, in fact, very harmful to us.

The truth is really a very simple one: God made us men and he made us his sons. So we are men. We don’t have to do anything to make ourselves men.

Whatever you are, that is what a man is. Since you are a man, if you like to cook, it is manly to cook. Since you are a man, if you cry, it is manly to cry. Since you are a man, if you fail, it is manly to fail. In fact, whatever you do, it is manly to do it.

Last year, I had the joy of giving a talk at a retreat about my struggle with pornography and the mercy of God that I found there.

That ongoing struggle can very much be looked upon as a failure.

But as I look at it, without that failure, I would never have experienced the mercy and love of the Father that I have. “Oh, happy fault” that has brought me to such a personal encounter with God and through that, a love of God that would not have otherwise been.

If we were not to fail or we were never to admit to ourselves our failures, we would not need a Savior. What would Jesus have died for if we did not need him?

I can see now that I had been living in denial of my failures—beating down the lie that I was a failure with another lie that I was a success.

What a grace it was that the stick of my successes was not big enough to beat down that lie anymore—allowing me to eventually see that both were lies.

Success or failure does not matter. I am loved as son by the Father. What else is there? What else matters?

I am not the sum of my weakness and failures. I am the sum of the love the Father has for me.

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