Like riding a bike

So, I've been trying to do some serious writing of the dissertation. When I write the dissertation, I have to think a lot about action, freedom, grace, virtue, will, intellect, object, intention and such things. But grace has been looming large lately.

So, yesterday, while I was thinking about how the indwelling Spirit and/or infused charity might or might not affect human freedom to act, it occured to me that I should go to Mass. It happened to occur to me at 11:45. There is a noon Mass at my parish, a mere 4 blocks away. So I went. Having identified the end (going to Mass), I chose the means (bike). I could have walked (would have been late, by the time I found shoes and things) or could have driven (ick: fossil fuels), but I opted for the bike. (The bike, by the way, is relatively new to me. I was seeking a used one on Craig's List, but once I mentioned the desire to friends around here, I was actually given two bikes. One actually works. I rode that one to Mass.)

So, for the first time, I rode my bike to Mass. Now, here's how this works. The ride to the end of my street is relatively flat, without real event. I make a left turn and then I have three blocks to go to the church. Just to give you an idea of where we are going here, the 2nd street over is called Hilltop. So, I make the left turn and begin to radically downshift. I am working my way up the hill. The thoughts go through my head something like this: this isn't so bad, just downshift; oh, God, what if one of my students sees me struggling up this hill?; what if one of my colleagues sees?; just focus; just breathe; wait a minute, just get off the bike and walk it up the hill; okay, would it be more embarassing to be seen struggling like this or to be seen walking the bike up the hill?; I think I'd be going faster walking; hmm... Hilltop isn't quite the top of the hill after all, but it is flattening out; hey, I made it!

I lock up the bike and get into Mass. I hear a homily (not good) and receive Jesus (real presence, real grace). Then I get on the bike to head home. Not having really thought about hills and gravity and all that very much, I had a vague sense that this was going to be exhausting. As you've probably guessed: not so much. I of course flew back home with almost no effort on my part. In fact, at a certain point, I pedaled a bit but realized that I wasn't keeping up with gravity: my effort was no real effort at all, and it added nothing to the result.

As you can imagine, I was thinking a lot about the analogies to God's grace and human effort. The fact that I received eucharist between the trips up and down the hill was a little too tempting a narrative. We work so hard to little avail on our own; but with God's grace it gets so easy that it seems to be effortless on our part. But that doesn't exactly seem right, either. God's grace goes before, behind, within our efforts. It makes our efforts possible. Without God's grace, at just the right time, I don't think I would have even thought to go to Mass.

But I still like the idea that the moral life, with God's grace, is like riding a bike downhill. Maybe that's just because I think life would be a lot better if it were always like riding a bike downhill. Then again, it's nice to do a little pedaling occasionally, too.