My grandmother used to have a plaque of the well-known Serenity Prayer hanging up in her kitchen:

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

That prayer has come to mind several times over the past few years as I've witnessed the unsettling events of our times - the chaos of national politics during the 2016 and 2020 elections, the McCarrick scandal and resulting concern about the integrity of the Catholic Church's hierarchy, and, of course, the coronavirus pandemic and related policy debates, to name just a few. The world itself at times seems less secure, more perilous, as if dangerous cultural storms are raging all around us. On more than one occasion, I've had to remind myself that these cultural currents are - at least for the most part - things that “I cannot change” and should therefore accept with serenity as part of God's providence.

Recently a friend sent me a short note that included a copy of the Serenity Prayer, and I was surprised to discover that the original prayer is somewhat longer than is often quoted. The full prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr says:

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right
if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen.

All of our interior agitations come from our refusal to accept the way things are, because of the way we want things to be. If, for example, it is raining outside, I can be at peace if I don't mind the rain, but I will feel interior unrest if I insist that the sky should be clear and sunny. My attachment to sunshine cannot change the weather outside, but it can change the climate of my soul quite a bit. Our interior serenity doesn't ultimately depend on whether it's sunny or rainy outside, but on whether I can accept the world “as it is,” even if it is a nasty day.

One part of the Serenity Prayer that really resonates with me is the phrase, “taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it...” On the one hand, Jesus had a clear view of what humanity should look like - Created in the image of God, each of us ought to wholeheartedly love God, unconditionally love one another, and avoid all sin. Jesus made known to us the high demands of holiness especially in his Sermon on the Mount. On the other hand, Jesus did not force anyone into holiness, and his own interior peace was not dependent on the decisions of others. Even when the sinful world betrayed and crucified him, Jesus accepted their rejection as something that his Father had allowed in order to bring about a greater good - the Resurrection and redemption of the world. It was precisely this interior surrender, in fact, that brought about our redemption.

As we look at the world around us, disciples of Jesus ought to be able both 1) to acknowledge that there is real evil in the world and 2) to trust that God can and will bring good out of that evil. If we see that we ourselves are able to bring an end to some evil that we see, then we ought to pray for the courage to do so, as the beginning of the Serenity Prayer says. If, however, we see that the storms of evil in the world around us are beyond our control - as they often are - then let us be at peace in the midst of those storms, knowing that God has allowed the circumstances of our day for some greater good, and accepting the hardships in which we find ourselves in imitation of Christ is the one and only pathway to peace.