I Will Not Rise From Here

I was listening to a man last night on Youtube recount how he came into the Catholic Church. As a young, wayward man, a couple he was acquainted with had prayed the rosary for him every day for a year, unbeknownst to him. He credits that act of persistent charity, in large part, for his conversion.

That snippet from his story resonated with me, because a year ago I had undertaken a similar practice for someone--a kind of "spiritual adoption"--in large part because I believe someone unknown to me had prayed me into the Church, and I was indebted. This was not a family member or even a close friend I was praying for, but someone I got a strong feeling and premonition about--that our Lord wanted this soul, and someone needed to pray for them to bring them home.

For years, I saw the examples of the blind men calling out to Jesus to be given their sight and refusing to be quiet (Lk 18:39); the woman with the flow of blood boldly pushing her way through the crowd just to touch Jesus' cloak (Mk 5:25-34); and the parable of the persistent widow (Lk 18:1-8) as a kind of foreign example of annoying persistence--something I didn't possess. When I was sixteen and struggling on the second day of a multiple day bicycle stage race I was in, I pulled over and my dad gave me a pep talk, "If it's too hard, just quit. You don't have to finish." I took his advice. I always remembered that.

But in the life of faith, this kind of stubborn persistence is really a kind of exercise of faith. It offends the Lord more when we ask so little of him. Our Blessed Mother told St. Catherine Laboure in the vision in which she appeared to her that "The pearls that don’t have rays are the graces of the souls who don’t ask." The blind men receive their sight, the woman is healed of her flow of blood, and the persistent widow is granted her request by the judge--all because they refused to give up, had faith that the Lord would grant their request, and were almost annoyingly persistent. The Lord says:

"Will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off?  I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” (Lk 18:7-8)

We often think of St. Monica, the mother of Augustine, as the model of persistent imploring. And it's true. But I came across the story of a young woman tonight, St. Gemma Galgani, who took 'not taking no for an answer' to a whole other level. She spiritually adopted sinners and was willing to give the Lord years of her life simply for the conversion of total strangers whom she didn't even know. That blew me away.

Another thing about her story that filled me with a somberness about the reality of the cost Christ paid, and just how narrow the way to salvation is and about how many the Lord will say "I never knew them":

"I will relate another fact in the words of a most reliable witness who told me of it. "I was asked," said this person, by a lady acquaintance to recommend her brother, a great sinner, to Gemma. I did so accordingly and she while in ecstasy began to plead to Jesus for him. But He [no doubt to try her faith] replied that He knew not that sinner. "How do You not know him," she said, "since he is Thy child?" Then she turned to Mary, but seeing that even she remained silent and wept, she began to pray to Blessed Gabriel of the Dolors [Passionist], and he also was silent. But Gemma, for all that, did not lose courage. She redoubled her prayers. At the same time she said to me: "That man must indeed be a great sinner. Jesus says He knows him not, Mother weeps, and Blessed Gabriel will not answer me.  

After a year of this assiduous praying, one day, while returning from church with Gemma, I met the servant of the above-mentioned lady in the greatest consternation. The brother of her mistress, she said, was dying. We were greatly pained, but we had only gone about twenty yards when Gemma exclaimed: "He is saved, he is saved." I asked her who? "The brother of that lady," she answered. I learned afterwards that this man breathed his last pressing the priest's hand precisely when Gemma was going home. That coincided exactly with the moment when she said aloud, "He is saved, he is saved.""

Whereas St. Pio often wrestled with the Devil, St. Gemma wrestled with the Divine Justice, the Judge Himself, imploring for mercy on behalf of sinners, especially those she had spiritually adopted:

"In spite of all these efforts, Our Lord remained inflexible, and Gemma again relapsed into anguish and discouragement, remain­ing silent, as if she had abandoned the strife. Then, all of a sud­den, another motive flashed to her mind that seemed invincible against all resistance. "Well, I am a sinner. You Yourself have told me so, and that a person worse than me You could not find. Yes, I confess it, I am the worst sinner, and I am unworthy that You should listen to me. But look, I present Thee another advocate for my sinner; it is Thine own Mother who asks You to forgive him. See! Oh, imagine saying no to Thy Mother! Surely You cannot now say no to Her. And now answer me, Jesus, tell me me that You will save my sinner." The victory was gained, the whole scene changed aspect, the tenderhearted Saviour had granted the grace, and Gemma, with a look of indescribable joy, exclaimed: "He is saved, he is saved! Thou hast conquered, Jesus; triumph always thus." And then she came out of the ecstasy.

When it was over, having withdrawn to my room, with my mind engrossed by a thousand thoughts, I suddenly heard a tap at my door. "A strange gentleman, Father, has called and wishes to see you."I bade him come in. He threw himself at my feet sobbing and said: "Father, hear my Confession." Good God! I thought my heart would burst. It was Gemma's sinner, converted that same hour."

St. Gemma adopted sinners--not in the general sense, but specific persons--and she did not take no for an answer, even when the Lord Himself refused to budge! And so neither shall we. We should be bold in our petitions, make reparations on their behalf, and lean on the Mother of God to advocate for us and "our sinners," even when our personal holiness falls short compared to that of St. Gemma's. Persistence in the spiritual economy is not uncouth or inappropriate, but laudable, for it displays a faith that refuses to give up, refuses to go away, until it obtains what it came for--the souls of those lost. Don't ever give up.

St. Gemma Galgani, pray for us!

The Ins and Outs of Male Friendship

My twenty year high school reunion is this weekend, at a bar in my hometown. I want to want to go, but I just don't. I didn't have a bad experience in high school; I had a good group of guy friends, and we would hang out in each other's basements shooting pool and watching Saturday Night Live reruns, take off after school on Friday afternoons to hike in the woods and walk the railroad tracks, play backyard football, and cruise around town in our cars. I wasn't a Christian then, and so it seems like another life when those things were what we were really living for. Our common bonds were, for the most part, external; it was what we did together that bound us.

I don't, however, remember feeling like I could always rely on them when it came to inner struggles. One close friend in particular was more fair weather than I may have liked. Though we had grown up together, he never visited me when I was hospitalized, and he only seemed to call for his own purposes--when he wanted to hang out, or no one else was around. It was never completely without some kind of self-gratifying ulterior motive. We reconnected a few years ago and I had hoped all that had changed, but I saw relatively quickly that it hadn't. I was someone to hang out and have a good time with when it was convenient or suited him, but beyond that there wasn't a whole lot that bound us together. Still kind of stings to this day.

Men are often pegged as simple, uncomplicated creatures. This is generally true when speaking about our needs--when we're fed, working, feel respected, and having marital relations regularly, we are 98% taken care of. It's not rocket science.

However, if there's one variance between men and women where the inverse proves to be true, it's in the realm of friendship. From my vantage point, making and maintaining female friendships as a woman appears to be vastly less complicated than what it takes to forge lasting male friendships. If women are more relational in general, being relational comes naturally. For men, however--even the most normal, well adjusted men--forming lasting friendships can feel akin to what it takes to dismantle a bomb. There are a lot of wires, and touch one to the wrong cathode and boom show's over.

Men tend to view friendships as optional rather than ancillary--good things that they may long for but not know how, or be willing, to forge. And yet we see articles like this one in the Boston Globe, that the biggest threat facing middle-aged men isn't smoking or obesity, but loneliness. As I approach middle age, I can relate to this. It seems harder and harder to make friends. We are in a busy season--working, trying to advance in our careers, raising families, yard work and house maintenance.

Making friends as a guy can be tricky, though--there are a lot of factors and conditions that need to be right for the kernel of friendship to find good soil and take root. These are a few of the things that I have noticed:

1) Men do not just pick up the phone and call with a desire to relate their struggles or connect. If that is the objective, there needs to be an external modus operandi to facilitate the internal, something to "do." It could be going camping or building something, some activity to couch it in. Generally speaking, men do not call each other to get coffee and talk. Having a beer at the bar may be the exception to that rule, but it would have to be clear that the reason for getting together is the beer and not the talk.

2) Protestant men seem better equipped to support one another in their faith journey by way of "fellowship" and bible studies. I have heard Catholic men speak of such gatherings as effeminate (sharing, talking, etc); I don't necessarily think that is always the case, but the Catholic paradigm is one in which it is commonly posited that "the sacraments are all I need" or "I go to Mass to worship, not to meet other people." Men stand alone, as the thinking goes. If you're not isolated and holding your own on your own, there's a deficiency, a weakness, in your inability to stand on your own two feet.

3) You have to be mindful of the "weird" or "gay" factor. Men (and boys, generally) have a pretty strict code of conduct when it comes to revealing weakness and emotions in a group. No man, generally speaking, wants to be associated with effeminate men, because you might be regarded as effeminate by association. It sounds so stereotypical but there is truth in it, like it or not. Now, that being said, I feel pretty strongly that men with same sex attraction can benefit from friendship with heterosexual men, and that heterosexual men can extend such invitations to friendship as a mutually-beneficial act of Christian charity and brotherhood. But the maleness piece needs to take precedence over sexual identity, and that can sometimes be difficult for men with SSA to adjust to, because they don't know always know the codes and inner ways of relating in that way. That's ok--they are men first and foremost.

4) The mentor/mentee model works well with men. Again, it may necessitate revolving around some rite of passage or activity (working on a car together, for example), but the opportunities to pass on wisdom and life lessons are appreciated by both the one passing it on and the one receiving it.


St. Augustine had such a high regard for friendship that he posited it as one of two things in the world that are of the utmost importance:

"In this world two things are essential: life and friendship. Both should be highly prized and we must not undervalue them. Life and friendship are nature’s gifts. God created us that we might exist and live: this is life. But if we are not to remain solitary, there must be friendship."  [Sermon Denis 16,1]

As tricky as making friends as a guy in middle age can be, and as much as I have always wanted more from a friendship than seemed possible in this life, I still think it's indispensable for our social and spiritual well-being. No man is an island, no man is completely self-sufficient. It's perfectly fine to share common interests like sports and activities, but how much more so a common desire to cast ourselves on Christ and live the virtues? Friendship with other men, when it is built on the foundation of Christ, helps us to grow in holiness and shoulder each other's burdens. It doesn't have to be weird or awkward, but it more likely than not does require a degree of intentionality. As St. Thomas wrote, “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.”

The Walls of the Playground: In Defense of "Vanilla Sex"

*Note: This post has been rated 'PG'

A few months ago a priest I am acquainted with threw out an invitation on Facebook for anyone to ask any question (via private message) about the morality of certain sexual acts in marriage. In a short period of time his inbox was flooded with questions and inquiries--from faithful, orthodox Catholics--to the point that he had to abandon the endeavor for lack of time to answer them all.

It was interesting because anytime there is that kind of interest or hunger for something--even when it happens to be a "don't go there" topic--it is kind of a litmus of a need. Those who crave the true, the beautiful, the timeless know this when it comes to liturgy in a post-conciliar culture. Those who wish for clarity in teaching can get frustrated with noodley catechesis and statements. And those who long for joy and peace in an age of depression and anxiety can be moved to despair when it seems just to be always just beyond the horizon.

It was also interesting because these were faithful, orthodox Catholics who were eager to ask and learn on this topic of chastity within marriage--people who are striving to be holy, live by the Church's teaching, and ensure they not offending their Creator inadvertently. Sure, some of them may suffer from scruples, but by and large, I think they just wanted to be assured they were respecting the marital bed and honoring God with their bodies with the nuts and bolts stuff.

It's hard to know in this culture sometimes, though, isn't it? It reminds me of the words of G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy (I am not a big GKC buff, but this example was given to me years ago and I always remembered it):

"Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian...Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground. Christianity is the only frame which has preserved the pleasure of Paganism. We might fancy some children playing on the flat grassy top of some tall island in the sea. So long as there was a wall round the cliff's edge they could fling themselves into every frantic game and make the place the noisiest of nurseries. But the walls were knocked down, leaving the naked peril of the precipice. They did not fall over; but when their friends returned to them they were all huddled in terror in the centre of the island; and their song had ceased."

It's a fine line between scrupulosity and assurance, one that can be difficult to navigate depending on the modus operandi one is disposed to (operating from fear or love and trust). It is also the same way in which we as Catholics approach the issue of the assurance of salvation when we respond simply, "I have been saved, I am being saved, and I hope to be saved."

So what does any of this have to do with sex?

I came across a recent article in The Guardian citing that 62% of Brits have had a fantasy about being either dominant or submissive in the bedroom. You could point to the influence of the "Fifty Shades of Grey" films, that seemed to be wildly popular, but then it is a chicken-or-the-egg question: were these films made to tap into such secret desires, or did the film itself seek to normalize them? Or did it go farther back to Kinsey et al and their phony science on 'forbidden' sexuality on the cusp of the Sexual Revolution?

Regardless, the normalization of the abnormal in the culture leaves many who hold to traditional sexual practices as wondering whether they are in the minority. And it could be that they very well are. But is that such a bad thing? Erectile dysfunction for males in their twenties is not normal. Expecting violent sex on the eve of a first date is not normal. Expecting one's wife to mimic what they have seen in porn is not normal.

People don't always know what they don't know, whether it's in terms of morality or effect. The thing is, in Catholic moral teaching on human sexuality, the mechanics of sex is not always talked about for reasons of prudence. That's both a good thing and a not-so-good thing. Catholic are told, "Respect your wife. Give yourself to one another unreservedly. Keep the marriage bed undefiled," all things many good Catholics want to strive for. But how?

I've written about the topic here and here, and of course, get acquainted with Theology of the Body if you are not familiar with it already. Out of respect for my wife (and for your benefit!) I will not be writing about our sex life in any kind of detail. The bedroom should be a private sanctuary for husband and wife. But what happens in the bedroom also tends to reflect how much of the culture has been absorbed in one's personal life and ideas about sexuality; conversely, living the virtues (or lack of them) in one's sexual life is imported back into the culture, for better or for worse. In the same way music can penetrate our psyches uninvited, the contraceptive mentality can get into our pores and nostrils in a way we don't even realize.

It is also not always immediately seen or recognized. One may not always realize when they are using their spouse, being selfish within the sexual act, or committing adultery of the heart. But a tree can be judged by its fruit, and the fruit of love is joy. This is the paradox of fences and freedom. Thankfully, St. Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body helps us dig the holes, sink the posts, and hang the fence in our sexual lives to give us the inner freedom to enjoy the fruits of the sexual act with abandon. The world and the culture looking from the outside-in may see old fashioned, "vanilla" sex as a puritanical recipe for boredom and rote conformist mechanics. What it doesn't see is the inner expanse; when one is not so focused on achieving maximum self-satisfaction by way of bodily gymnastics, foreign objects, and even violence and domination, there is a great deal of room to look to the other in self-abandonment and experience those things the world does not give sexual value to--trust, protection, selflessness, privacy, bonding, spiritual entwinement, and, yes, children--God's gift to us.

Remember the paradox in the Christian life--fences are a means to freedom, and walls a bulwark against the anxious abyss. It is within those walls, put up for our good by a loving God, that we can experience real freedom, true joy, and a love that, through the years, can run so deep it's hard to find the bottom. 

I Don't Belong Here Anymore

In getting ready to appear as a guest on EWTN's "The Journey Home" next week, I have been going over the past twenty years in my head. Why did I become a Catholic? What attracted me to the Christ, to the Church? Where did I come from, and what does it all mean?

My story is a bit of a "conversion wrapped in a reversion." In outlining it in chronological order (so I can keep things straight in my head for the show), I realized that the timeline looked like a weightlifters barbell--2 significant years on the beginning end, 2 significant years on the other end, and long stretch of "in-between" floundering to live the faith with integrity from age 18 to 36. I'd like to shelve the beginning part of that journey for now (I've shared some of it here and here) and focus on a detail I had forgotten about until I started writing it down.

It was the summer of 2016, and I was in Colorado for a bachelor party. Now, ever since high school I have loved to party, and even as a new Catholic I never stopped. I went to parties, threw parties, and would party into the morning with friends. I never had a drinking problem, but temperance was a virtue I had trouble developing. I prayed, went to Mass every Sunday, read spiritual books, but was 'friends with the world" (John 15:19), trying to have my cake and eat it too.

This particular bachelor party I was not really looking forward to attending, but I had to, for various reasons. The guys were younger, and I knew they partied hard; I was getting older, but still susceptible to influence. The first day I tried to not partake in any of the revelry, but concupiscence and appetites are a funny thing, and by day 2 I was crushing the opposition in drinking games. I found myself mirroring Paul's words, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do" (Rom 7:15)

At one point near the end of the weekend I went in my room in the mountain house the crew had rented, and sat on the bed. I wasn't in full on praying mode, but I was really hoping God could get me out of being there. No body else there seemed to have any pangs of conscience or problem with going full tilt since they weren't believers, and yet here I was, feeling the tension of having one foot in the world and one foot in the Church, not living as a good example as a Christian, and not be able to go in with full abandon either.

I always carried a small Gideon bible with me whenever I traveled. I took it out and sat on the bed and prayed a quick prayer for help. I remember to this day, I opened it and the first thing I read was

"Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourself of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and you have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator." (Col 3:5-10)

I was struck dumb. I recalled the story of St. Augustine in the garden, picking up the scriptures at the words he heard from a child, "Take up and read, take up and read." What he read was this:

"Not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual excess and lust, not in quarreling and jealousy. Rather, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh." (Rom 13: 13-14)

I called a Christian friend back home, a man of integrity, and told him what had happened when I opened the scripture, what I landed upon, and how it cut to the heart and left me exposed to my inconsistency. He was encouraging, but in that room I felt alone in a crowd. I didn't belong there anymore.

In the Imitation of Christ, Thomas A Kempis wrote about this wretched 'in between' state of a lukewarm religious in a way that hit home:

"A fervent religious accepts all the things that are commanded him and does them well, but a negligent and lukewarm religious has trial upon trial, and suffers anguish from every side because he has no consolation within and is forbidden to seek it from without. The religious who does not live up to his rule exposes himself to dreadful ruin, and he who wishes to be more free and untrammeled will always be in trouble, for something or other will always displease him." (Chap 25)

Fence-sitting had never born a lot of fruit in my life. Reading the Word of God in the passage in Colossians made me realize it's a lousy place to be, and that friendship with world makes one an enemy of God (James 4:4). Who was I kidding? I had to get off the fence. The past two years has been a series of grace-encounters and renewal that have sifted weeds from wheat in my life, and introduced me to people that don't make me feel like so much of an outsider in my faith.

We all need that from time to time, being called to be in the world but not of the world. I pray for the grace to take that to heart, and to never go back to straddling the line. Now when it comes to my faith, I'm invested. It informs my choices, even when they come with costs. I'm in too deep. Thankfully, there's no where to go but deeper.

Put Your Chips Down, Bet the House, and Trust in God

My latest article at Catholic Stand:

http://www.catholicstand.com/put-your-chips-down-bet-the-house-and-trust-in-god/

The Church and JCPenney

I am fascinated by the fall of JCPenney. It is a MBA case study dream of how not to succeed in business.

It's also an interesting parlay into a mini commentary on modernism and the state of the Church.

In 2011, Ron Johnson (who at the time was heading up Apple's retail operations) came on board as CEO of JCPenney. The Board wanted to shake up the store's "stodgy image" and attract new customers. Johnson fired many existing Penney's executives, and "immediately rejected everything existing customers believed about the chain and stuffed it in their faces." The rebranding effort was aggressive and sudden. Overnight the store transformed from predictable and traditional, to disorienting and modern, forcing many loyal shoppers to look elsewhere for clothing.

Customers at JC Penney were used to a traditional discounted pricing strategy. A pair of slacks might be priced at $75, but coupons brought down the price to, say, $50. Customers felt savvy, and Penney's allocated for the item selling at the discounted rate, so it was really win-win, and kept people coming back. It wasn't a flashy store, but it was reliable and predictable for many middle-income families.

Johnson was completely out of touch with Penney's bread-and-butter customer base, alienated them overnight, and didn't seem to care. When shoppers weren’t reacting positively to the disappearance of coupons and sales and the institution of "flat and fair" pricing (and new, younger and hipper customers weren't flocking to JCP to take their place), Johnson didn’t blame the new policies. but said simply that customers needed to be “educated” as to how the new pricing strategy worked. In the fourth quarter of 2012, sales dropped 32%, one of the biggest in retail history.

Smart businesses learn from the mistake of others in industry. The Church is not a business, and shouldn't be treated or viewed as one, but there are parallels:

1) Know, support (and don't alienate) your base.

I'm guilty of this sometimes. I see all the gray haired heads at Mass and can't help but get a little critical at the lack of newer, younger parishioners to balance things out. It takes humility and respect to honor the faithful pillars of your community and discernment to not be unreasonably wedded to things frozen in time. Change is ok (anybody still using a typewriter or rotary phone?), but make sure it's the right change for the right reasons. You don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I'd like to see more support for those who stay in the Church and those struggling (those with large families, for instance), while simultaneously reaching out to unchurched people and those fallen-away. It can be a both/and not either/or.


2) Drastic change (too much, too soon) is hard to stomach for many. 

Many (who are older than I am) witnessed the disorientation and upset that occurred when the liturgy was changed overnight, and the "roll out" of modest modernization proposals in the Second Vatican Council got away from the original intent (ie, the "Spirit of Vatican II"). Again, it's easy to get frustrated with the snail's pace the Church can move at sometimes, but that can also be a sign of wisdom and prudence gained over thousands of years since it's inception.


3) Do what you do well

The Catholic Church is traditional and conservative by her nature. So why not embrace that traditionalism and conservatism, rather than trying to be something she is not? Non-demoninational evangelical churches are a dime a dozen. They may have better marketing, better production, and more per-service attendees, but what are they missing? Namely, the things that can't be replicated by marketing and technology--the Sacraments, the Eucharist, the Mass, the fullness of Truth. To use a marketer's term, those things should be 'leveraged' or, if you prefer, focused on as the heart of who we are as a Christian people. It may be seen as stodgy or outdated (ie, 'traditional'), but while other trends have come and gone, the Church is still here, still standing, and still imparting life to those who cling to Her.


4) Truth will never go out of style

When you compromise the Truth, you lose everything. When the foundation crumbles, the house falls. Truth is timeless, and does not follow the whims of contemporary sensibilities. We can't change Truth, but we can speak to different audiences in a language they understand, in a cultural context that can be respected and maintained. A Mass in sub-Saharan Africa may look different from a Mass in Uzbekistan, but it is the same Christ, the same Word, the same Truth.


5) Have some humility

The best leaders, in my opinion, are those that serve with a servant's heart. They shepherd their flock with a firm but steady hand, rather than an iron fist, and lay down their life for their sheep. They also recognize that they serve the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and don't get caught up in careerism or forget their roots and the heart of matters. They pray, and they believe what they preach. Humility is a requisite for friendship with the Lord, and it should be a virtue in those who take the reigns, whether that's in a parish, a diocese, a monastery, or a home.


It's been more than fifty years since the close of the Second Vatican Council, and the Church has experienced her share of fallout. But there is reason for hope as well. God has raised up prophetic voices and witnesses from the rubble and ashes throughout history to renew and keep the flame lit; all is not lost. The Church is not a business or a corporation, and parallels should be taken with a grain of salt. But it never hurt to take heed of a warning where you see one.