Tag Archives: seeds of faith

Seeds of Faith in Stillness: Reflections on a Scene from Essex Dogs

Dan Jones, one of today’s most engaging modern historians, is known for his riveting non-fiction works on medieval history. So, when he turned his attention to fiction with Essex Dogs: A Novel, I was eager to see how his storytelling would translate to a new medium. As expected, the novel didn’t disappoint, combining gritty realism with compelling characters. Yet what struck me most was a particular scene in the book that, against the backdrop of medieval warfare, offers a moment of quiet reflection. It’s a scene that resonates with profound spiritual depth, showing how timeless truths can emerge in the unlikeliest of places.

In Essex Dogs, Jones employs a raw and visceral style, immersing the reader in the sights, sounds, and even the smells of medieval warfare. His unflinching descriptions of battle contrast sharply with the quiet moments of human struggle and contemplation, which often carry unexpected spiritual weight. By weaving together moments of brutal action with reflective stillness, Jones creates a narrative that not only captures the chaos of war but also the profound ways faith and perseverance emerge in its midst. His writing style, so immediate and vivid, brings to life countless ways to find seeds of faith in the ordinary and extraordinary alike.

The moment that stood out to me revolves around Loveday, a central character in the story. Amid the chaos of medieval battle, Loveday chooses to pause rather than act, embracing stillness in a moment of uncertainty. The passage describing this is deceptively simple but rich in meaning:

“So Loveday did the only thing he could do. As he always did when in doubt. He waited. He listened. He controlled his breath. And he kept his eyes open. He stayed still so long that in his crouch the muscles in his lower legs began to cramp. He wiggled his toes inside his boots to try and keep them from going numb. He gritted his teeth. And eventually his patience was rewarded. Briefly, right on the edge of his vision, he saw something move.”1

On the surface, this is a pragmatic survival tactic. Loveday pauses, gathers himself, and waits for clarity. Yet there’s much more beneath the surface. His choice to stop, breathe, and observe mirrors spiritual practices rooted in trust, patience, and attentiveness. In this moment of stillness, Loveday offers a model of faith that is as relevant now as it would have been in the medieval world.

Loveday’s stillness is a striking counterpoint to the frantic action and violence surrounding him. While others might panic or charge forward blindly, he chooses to trust the process, even at the cost of physical discomfort. This deliberate pause evokes the spiritual teaching found in Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.”2 Stillness here is not passivity but an act of trust—an acknowledgment that clarity often arises when we surrender control and allow ourselves to wait.

In the Christian tradition, waiting in silence is a recurring theme. Whether it is the Israelites waiting on God in the wilderness3 or the Apostles in the upper room after Christ’s ascension,4 these moments of quiet anticipation are often where faith grows. Loveday’s decision to remain still, despite the uncertainty, reflects this timeless spiritual wisdom. He exemplifies the patience described in Isaiah 40:31: “But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.”5

One of the most striking details in the passage is Loveday’s focus on controlling his breath. This practical measure to calm himself also carries deep theological resonance. In Genesis 2:7, God breathes life into Adam, marking the intimate connection between human existence and the divine.6 Later, in John 20:22, the risen Christ breathes on His disciples, giving them the Holy Spirit.7 Breath, then, becomes a symbol of God’s sustaining power and presence.

This connection between breath and spirituality is also reflected in the ancient prayer practices of the Church. In the Eastern Christian tradition, for example, the Jesus Prayer—“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”—is often synchronized with one’s breathing.8 This union of physical rhythm and prayer cultivates a sense of inner stillness and attentiveness to God. When Loveday centers himself by focusing on his breath, he echoes this profound link between the physical and the spiritual, between the ordinary act of breathing and the presence of the divine.

Another powerful element in this scene is Loveday’s vigilance. He keeps his eyes open, alert to the slightest movement, even as discomfort sets in. This watchfulness calls to mind Jesus’s admonition to His disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test” (Matthew 26:41).9 Spiritual vigilance is a recurring theme in the Gospels, reminding believers to remain awake and attentive to God’s presence, even in the midst of challenges.

Loveday’s patience is rewarded when he finally notices a small movement at the edge of his vision. This moment is reminiscent of Elijah’s encounter with God in 1 Kings 19.10 Elijah expects God to appear in dramatic ways—through wind, earthquake, or fire—but instead, God’s presence is revealed in a “tiny whispering sound” (1 Kings 19:12).11 Similarly, Loveday’s attentiveness allows him to perceive something small and seemingly insignificant, yet it is precisely this detail that brings clarity and direction.

The scene also highlights the discomfort that often accompanies stillness. Loveday’s legs cramp, his toes go numb, and he grits his teeth to endure it. This physical struggle reflects the spiritual challenge of remaining patient and steadfast in times of uncertainty. St. Paul speaks to this in Romans 12:12: “Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer.”12 Faith is not always easy or comfortable; it often requires perseverance through difficulties, trusting that the effort will bear fruit.


Footnotes

1. Dan Jones, Essex Dogs: A Novel (New York: Viking, 2023).
2. Psalm 46:10, New American Bible (Revised Edition).
3. Exodus 16:1–35.
4. Acts 1:12–14.
5. Isaiah 40:31, NABRE.
6. Genesis 2:7, NABRE.
7. John 20:22, NABRE.
8. “Jesus Prayer,” OrthodoxWiki.
9. Matthew 26:41, NABRE.
10. 1 Kings 19, NABRE.
11. 1 Kings 19:12, NABRE.
12. Romans 12:12, NABRE.

Seeds of Virtue in The Wolf of Wall Street: Finding Faith in a World of Greed

Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street is a visceral exploration of greed, ambition, and excess, told through the life of Jordan Belfort. At first glance, the film’s central character and his unapologetic quotes seem to embody the very antithesis of virtue. Lines like “Greed is good” and “Money doesn’t just buy you a better life—it makes you a better person” reflect a life untethered from any moral grounding, driven by self-gratification and material gain.

But is there more beneath the surface? Could even these disordered sentiments contain echoes of virtue—seeds of something good, albeit misdirected? From a theological perspective, every human heart, even one corrupted by sin, retains a longing for truth, beauty, and goodness. It’s worth examining whether these quotes reflect a distorted pursuit of virtues that, when properly ordered, could lead to deeper fulfillment.


The Longing for Meaning and Happiness

One of the most striking quotes from Belfort is:

“The most important thing in life is to be happy. And if you’re not happy, change something.”

On the surface, this reflects an individualistic pursuit of happiness—a desire to shape life around personal satisfaction. But deeper still, this longing for happiness is universal and profoundly human. It reflects what St. Augustine observed when he wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” Belfort’s hedonistic approach to happiness is misdirected, chasing fleeting pleasures rather than enduring joy. But it hints at the truth: we are made for transformation. If Belfort’s “change something” were directed toward conversion and self-reflection, it could lead to a life centered on genuine happiness—one found in virtue and communion with God.


The Courage to Act

Another memorable line captures Belfort’s audacity:

“I don’t know what the [expletive] I’m doing, but I’m doing it really well.”

This mix of confidence and self-awareness reveals a certain courage to act even in uncertainty. While Belfort’s recklessness leads to disastrous outcomes, his boldness highlights a fundamental truth: human beings are made to take risks and face challenges. In a properly ordered life, this courage would resemble the virtue of fortitude, the strength to persevere in doing what is right even in the face of obstacles.

When guided by truth and a desire to serve others, this same boldness could inspire meaningful action. Belfort’s misplaced confidence reminds us that courage, untethered from wisdom and humility, can lead to chaos—but when grounded in virtue, it becomes a powerful force for good.


The Power of Vision

Belfort’s insight into persuasion and confidence comes across in this statement:

“The best way to get something done is to tell people you’ve already done it.”

This statement, while manipulative, hints at the importance of vision and persuasion. Belfort recognizes that people are inspired by confidence and the ability to articulate possibilities. His distorted approach, grounded in deceit, reveals the danger of prioritizing appearances over substance. Yet the deeper insight remains: humans are moved by stories of hope and possibility.

In its proper form, this inclination could resemble the virtue of leadership—a willingness to guide others toward a shared goal rooted in truth. Great leaders inspire trust, not by pretending to be something they are not, but by embodying integrity and offering a vision of what is possible when people work together for a noble cause.


A Restless Search for Virtue

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of Belfort’s character is his restless energy—the relentless drive to achieve, to conquer, to excel. This sentiment is reflected in his statement:

“Money doesn’t just buy you a better life—it makes you a better person.”

On the surface, this is deeply flawed. It equates material wealth with moral superiority, reflecting a disordered prioritization of worldly success. Yet beneath this statement lies an echo of a human longing for growth and transformation. Belfort’s desire to become “better” speaks to the universal drive for self-improvement.

Christian theology teaches that true self-improvement is not achieved through wealth but through grace and the pursuit of virtue. Properly oriented, this desire could lead to profound acts of service and love. Material wealth, at best, becomes a tool for the good, but it is never the source of moral excellence.


Redeeming the Seeds

What The Wolf of Wall Street ultimately offers is a cautionary tale about disordered desires. Jordan Belfort’s quotes reflect a longing for fulfillment, self-improvement, and happiness, but they seek these goods in the wrong places. Yet these same desires, when properly ordered, can lead to a life of virtue.

The Christian tradition teaches that even in sin, humanity retains traces of its divine origin. We are made in the image of God, and our deepest longings point us toward Him, even when they are distorted by sin. Belfort’s ambition could be reoriented toward building others up. His courage could lead him to stand for truth. His pursuit of happiness could open him to the enduring joy found in love of God and neighbor.

In every human heart, no matter how broken, there are seeds of virtue waiting to grow. The Wolf of Wall Street challenges us to ask: What are we ordering our lives toward? What drives our ambition? And are we willing to reorder our desires to align with the ultimate good—the God who alone can satisfy our restless hearts?


Source

Scorsese, M. (Director). (2013). The Wolf of Wall Street [Film]. Paramount Pictures.