Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 7, final]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 7

Modern culture

Times have changed science the stone age years and years went by later everything was different. They made screens technology cars boats so many things that you know now and on those screens are things that we cant get out of our heads. Like violence woman as i said before. God gave us the world so we can worship him not create things that are unholy but Satan and his demons exist and when they exist all those other things exist. Satan live in us but so dose God its like a war that gos inside us all the time and it only ends when you die you either go to heaven or hell when you go to hell its like losing the war inside of you but when you go to heaven its like winning the war.  

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 6]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 6

Addiction 

Ive seen my dad struggle with addiction its horrible. You may be addicted to video games woman social media drugs but if you start youll never leave its like this world were when you enter youll never leave your so attached to these things that you want to keep doing them but if you never enter that place you never have to struggle.

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 5]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 5

Thoughts

You may have inpure thoughts sometimes and im going to tell you how to think of something els well you might think of woman but you can say hail marrys in your head but think of things that have been happening in your life mabey you saw something on tv. Well its not you fault its the internets fault but its healthy to povent those things. It will be hard but youll pull through ive had the same issues but ypull be okay.

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 4]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 4 

Virtues

Now virtues are the opposite of sins like all the good things that you can do  like worshiping God or respecting your father and mother my dad well he has the nicest parents and he still gets annoyed by them. First and i talk from experience its hard to not get mad at your brother or sister trust me but really you need to control that. its okay to get mad sometimes but just remember they’re your brother and sister.  they love you,  you may not think so, but they do.

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 3]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 3

Sins

Now sins sins are like the bad part of you it tare you down and make you feel rejected and horrible. And im here to tell you how to provent that. Now the world is a horrible place its like good and bad god gave us the earth to worship and love him not to creat things that are violent and inpure. He have sins because adam and eve disopayed god and thats what they along with us got but its okay because god is forgiving and we have him and Jesus and thats all me need.

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [Chapter 2]

 The following is a chapter from my 9 year old son's book that he is writing titled Meaning Of Life, which I offered to publish here (unedited) in a series, just for fun (and maybe a little perspective). Images are drawings from when he was six or so.

Chapter 2

How To Get To Heaven

Well there is plantey ways to get to heaven basics. Attend mass. Receive the eucharist. Pray the rosary. Now here some of the not so basics. theres mortal sins like killing someone or sleeping someone elsa bed so i think you get the point so that kinda stuff. If you kill your self that you dont wana do but why would you? Now if u did youd go to hell. But if you went crazy or the doctor gave you to much meds then  i think youd be fine im exhausted from writing i will tell you more in the next chapter.

 

Unless You Become Like Children: A Nine-Year-Old's Primer For Life [series]

 

My nine year old son surprised us in the car on the way back from the beach this afternoon with the announcement that he was "writing a book." 

"What about?" I asked

"How to get to Heaven," he replied. 

Okay! This was kind of new. And I had nothing to do with it, didn't put him up to it at all, I promise. We did catch him reading a Matthew Kelly book one day that someone gave me (and which I never had an interest in starting) instead of his assigned school reading, so maybe that got him thinking. Who knows! 

I asked him if he's like me to publish a chapter a day here as he completes them, and he agreed. "You think anyone really wants to read this stuff?"

"Oh, I think a few people might find it interesting" (plus I need a break as I work on some other articles).

So, without delay, the next few days I will be acting as my nine-year-old son's publisher/editor (though I am publishing it in unedited form) and posting a chapter a day. It's as interesting for me to read it as his dad, and I hope you enjoy it as well. 

*Please feel free to comment; I'm sure my son would love to read what you have to say (and I promise to deliver your comments to him aloud)

Meaning of life

By D.M.

Introduction

Whats life?

We all think what is the meaning of life? And i am here to answer that question .when were in the car we all look out the window amd ask ourselves what is the meaning of life? Well there are so many answers basically i am going to say how to get to heaven and there are ways to get there we live in a world were there are tempting things and we must avoid those things first we must attend mass and commit less sins and say the rosary evrey day. Those are the basics i will tell you later on.

Chapter 1:

Social Media

Now im going to talk about how social media is robbing us from life .u wana take a picture and capture a moment. But now a days u just want the picture so u can get it on your social media think about it. just so you can get like and comments or whatever i honestly think pictures are just a waste just enjoy the moment  also another way social media is robbing you sometimes it makes you laugh but whats better? Laughing at a comment or hereing your daughter or son tell you a joke.

-------------------

[Tomorrow:  Chapter 2, "How To Get To Heaven"]

The Threats To A Catholic Marriage

Yesterday I was reading a financial independence blog post I came across by way of Reddit that was, for once, refreshingly honest. The guy had FIRE'd (financial independence-retire early) in his late thirties and hadn't updated his blog in five years, mostly because he was "living the life" from 2016-2021 and, I presume, didn't feel like he had much to say. Then life took an unexpected turn, and he found himself divorced, diagnosed with a serious medical condition, and back in the workforce.

Life seemed grand at the start. With his new found time and leisure, he read, wrote, traveled, and did whatever he wanted. The author found, with time, he could not relate as much to his working friends, and vice versa. His then-wife had retired early with him. While he had planned and focused on this particular goal, his wife was having a harder time with it, and found herself unhappy, unfulfilled, and seemingly without purpose. She committed infidelity, and that was the end of the relationship. When he contracted an illness that he hadn't really planned for, it also threw a monkey-wrench in his nest egg spread-sheet aggregates, to the point where he decided going back to work was the best thing he could do. The author admits, with refreshing honesty as I noted, that sometimes you can't plan for life going the way you thought it would.

This isn't the first marriage I heard breaking up after early retirement. Two other popular financial bloggers I read experienced the same thing. These are all secular, left-leaning, non-religious types that hold personal fulfillment and happiness as the pen-ultimate goal in life. A kind of soft, civilized hedonism. 

Catholics and religious folk aren't immune to the threats of divorce. Though lower than the national average, CARA notes a 27% divorce rate for Catholics.

What makes Catholics different? Well, for one, there is a cultural-religious dissuasion against divorce, both in Scripture and Church teaching. Of course, one would have to believe in these teachings, that the Lord meant what he said and that the Church's teaching on the matter is for our ultimate salvation and well-being. But, again, life happens in ways we may not be able to anticipate, and we need to be prepared for that. Old age, sickness, poverty are why we have vows--the temptation to cut and run when they break onto the scene can be very great.

But how we go into a marriage beyond the vows themselves has a large determining factor in how we respond to these challenges and threats to marriage (which will inevitably come). And even if they weren't established from the get-go, there is always room and grace for renewal.

Though I'm no expert, noticing the threat of divorce in these three particular bloggers devoted to enjoying "their best lives" through financial independence, I thought it might be helpful to identify some of the threats we as Catholics may be susceptible to in our marriages, and their antidotes:

One-Foot-In (and No Plan B)

Anyone who goes into a marriage thinking they can simply leave when things get hard are disadvantaged from the start. This can seem reckless (not having a pre-nup, leaving oneself open to financial ruin, not knowing what the future holds, etc), but marriage is not meant to be temporary, but for life. Like following Christ, if you are putting your hand to the plow and looking back, you are not worthy of the calling of marriage, for in it one "leaves his father and mother and cleaves to his wife and they become one flesh" (Mt 19:5). It's simply too easy to be "subject to the test" when you give yourself an escape route from the start, or open up a door to it down the road. Which leads to the next point.

Apathy (and Stubborn Grit)

Most people do not wake up one day and decide to get divorced. It's often a slow-drift apart where bonds and connections are weakened over time, to the point when you feel like you may or may not know your spouse anymore. You may find the inconveniences and threats to your personal happiness and fulfillment are outweighing any potential gains from staying with your partner. Over time, you find you "just don't care" whether the marriage survives or doesn't. 

There's something to be said for grit in the life of faith, a kind of stubborn persistence and bull-headedness to persevere in times of trial, despite the cost. Sometimes the way isn't around, but through, which means taking a hard-line approach to care, work, and do whatever it takes to plow ahead, together. It may mean holding your spouses hand when you can't stand to look them in the face, or refusing to listen to those who counsel you towards divorcing and "finding yourself." It may mean counseling, or late nights; fighting is not always a bad thing, if it means it is keeping the lines of communication open. Essentially, it is a refusal to concede to the pressures (which may be temporary) to jump ship, when everything is telling you to do so.

Selfishness (and Selflessness)

The thing I noticed in the three bloggers and their former spouses above was that what they valued was "doing what works for you" and careful planning (often without children that mess everything up, or limiting them) to the point where the ultimate value was self-fulfillment. This is a death-knell to true marriage, since it operates on a faulty assumption; though marriage may fulfill one person by way of the other, it is not it's intended purpose. Christ taught us as disciples to serve, to wash feet, to die to ourselves. Seeking self-satisfaction at the expense of all else is a futile endeavor and a fools-errand. As true Christians know, it is in serving that we find the key to our fulfillment; in emptying ourselves, we are filled. When we lose our lives, we find them.

Marriage is the ultimate test of self-deferment. If you understand yourself as part of a one-flesh union, and also what Christ did for you on the cross, you begin to understand how love works--by emptying itself. Selfishness is a constant temptation in marriage, but often many marriages on the rocks have turned around not by waiting for the other spouse to change, but by changing oneself and exercising the will to act against its selfish nature. This is hard, like exercise. But love is not authentic without something to back it up. Our spouses often know and recognize when we are doing something for our own sake, or for theirs. It can be transformative, but it takes work.

Betrayal (and Forgiveness)

This can be one area where the rubber hits the road. As Christians, we know the grace that comes with forgiveness for our sins; the kicker is we are expected to extend that grace to forgive one another "seventy times seven." This doesn't mean being a doormat, or not setting appropriate boundaries. It can be an inner-crucifixion to realize the one who is laying you up on the cross is the one whom you loved the most, who was closest to you and betrayed your trust with a kiss. 

Sound familiar? Again, we are only able to forgive egregious sins because we have been forgiven of our egregiousness by God Himself. It happens by grace, with grit sometimes, and often a good amount of time. In any case, it doesn't come easy; but then again, nothing worth fighting for does. It can be the splitting of the Temple, so to speak. If worked through, though, it may bring up issues that were unforeseen previously, out of the darkness, so that they can be addressed and dealt with. You cannot love without forgiving, and by our humanness we screw up, inevitably. A betrayal may not always be in the form of infidelity, by the way. Trust is a delicate thing. But without forgiveness, we cannot live as Christians, and we become prisoners in our own cell.

Taking Things For Granted (and Gratefulness)

It's easy to take things for granted in a marriage, or taking your spouse themselves for granted; that they will always be there, or always forgive you or be able to provide for your needs. Nothing is guaranteed, not even our lives. Gratefulness is an exercise to take each moment, each day as a gift that we don't deserve, that is not owed to us; essentially, it's a shift in perspective from all the things that may be lacking, to all the things we have been given. It's an easy exercise in the sense that it doesn't take much to compile, even if it's 'lowest common denominator' stuff--like having running water, or a roof that doesn't leak--but it can also lead us into appreciating things about our spouse in a quantifiable way that we may not have seen previously, when one does it intentionally (making a list, for example). You often don't realize the value of something until it's gone--which it will be one day--so the earlier you can recognize it the better. 

Sexlessness (and The Marriage Debt)

Studies have shown that married people have more sex more often then single people. As they should. Sex when it is healthy is bonding and a way of expressing love that goes beyond words. But I've also heard of married couples going weeks, months, even years without being intimate--sometimes for valid reasons, some not so convincing. 

Sex can be a barometer for the health of a marriage. Conversely what happens outside the bedroom determines what goes on inside it. Saint Paul in 1 Cor 7:3 speaks to this, that husband and wife fulfill to one another the marital debt. This is because neither has authority over his body but yields it to the spouse (1 Cor 7:4). 

Pragmatically, I can only speak as a man to other men: always be conscious of fulfilling your wife. Be a gentleman, both outside the bedroom and in it. You should have enough, ahem, practice that you know her needs and how to delay yourself so that you 'hold the door for her' in bed, so to speak. Outside the bedroom, this may mean serving her or speaking to her love languages--just because your fulfillment and sense of being loved comes from sex (as is often the case), this may not be equally true for her. So find out what it is she likes--whether its a backrub, doing the dishes for her, or giving her a weekend to herself by taking the kids--and do it.

Wives, I know this is going to sound a little blunt, but sometimes the best thing you can do for your husband is go full Nike and "just do it." Even if you don't feel like it or would rather by crocheting or watching TV. Of course, there should be mutual respect in a marriage, but you may be surprised how far sex will go for a man's sense of fulfillment. That doesn't mean you're acting like an on-demand wife, or that you don't have limits or reasonable requests to the contrary. But if you understand that in this realm, men really aren't that complicated and that our appetites are relatively unrefined and simple, it can go a long way.

Another benefit of sex to marriage? Kids! Whether accidental (oops!) or planned, children go a long way in pushing you to your limits and giving a sense of shared goals and self-deference. They are also great at distracting you from too much navel-gazing. So have kids, have a bunch if you can, and don't look back. No one ever says, "I wish I could give them back."

 

Short Sightedness (and the Long Game)

When we bought our house I was resistant to the idea of moving at first, because it seemed to stretch us financially and was a hassle; it was easier just not to go through the whole process. My father gave a simple but good piece of advice: short-term stress for long term gain. 

When divorce becomes a temptation, it's often seen as an out to undesirable circumstances. One projects the current reality into a prolonged future scenario--"if I'm miserable now, I will always be miserable," or "if it's this hard now, it will only get harder." That may or may not be the case, but often people are surprised when they pull out and hold on, the "golden years" of marriage are the best yet. Plus you have the benefit of not being alone when you get old, sick, and/or die, you can pool your resources, provide comfort and companionship to one another, and learn and grow more than you may have in your early years. But that doesn't come when you jump ship, but only by patient endurance, those who finish the race to earn the crown (2 Tim 4:7).

The Demonic (and The Grace of the Sacrament)

When you are Catholic and see life through a spiritual lens, you realize there are forces working against marriage and the family, because marriage and family are good and virtuous things, and the Devil is the Father of lies. It may manifest itself by way of temptation or misfortune, but Our Lady of Fatima was clear: the final battle against Satan will be over marriage and family. 

Thankfully, as Catholics, matrimony is elevated to the dignity of a Sacrament, and with the Sacrament comes grace. I don't know how people survive life without faith, and grace is the oil that keeps the life of faith running smoothly. If marriage is important to you (and it should be), it's good to strengthen and fortify it with regular Mass attendance, the sacraments, prayer (both together and personal), and sacramentals. Ask for the intercession of our married saints, St. Joseph and the Holy Family, and fortify other Catholic families if you are able, as we all need support and one another. Make a retreat if you find it helpful, and pray for your spouse and children intentionally; fasting and doing penance for them is even better. 

As Catholics, we journey to Heaven as a collective. In marriage, we work to get our spouses to Heaven (often by giving them crosses, ha!) while working out our own salvation in fear and trembling as well. We are not fighting against flesh and blood, but powers and principalities. The sooner we realize this, the more we can develop a battle plan under the protection of Our Lady's mantle to make sure the Devil doesn't have the final say in our lives. 

Phew! That's a page-full. I'd love to hear from you. Feel free to comment for the good of those reading if you see other threats to a Catholic marriage, and the ways you have found to counter them. Or simply to ask for prayers and/or share your story. God bless you!

Trigger Happy

It's been about two months since I left social media. Every now and then I will run across a Daily Wire article on my wife's phone, or rely on her to post something for me on Marketplace. But all in all, I've moved out of the furnace into more temperate mental climates. It's a little more boring with less drama, but I'm past the withdraw period and slowly gaining back some vacancy in my previously-packed brain.

In the thick of it, though, I would take on a lot of burdens and anxieties that, perhaps, I didn't have to. I bought a good hundred pounds of dried beans and lentils when I heard something about a meat-shortage on Facebook (that never happened). It's been a few months since the November election and while gas prices are creeping up, my family and I are not being hunted down and crucified in the street and my day to day hasn't changed much. It's not that there aren't dangers, of course (ie, the frog in hot water). It's just that the amplification of everything has...dialed down.  

Two nice things about having a non-monetized blog--I write what I want, when I want, and I never consider it 'work;' and I don't have to rely on click-bait to pay the mortgage. I'm not sure news outlets and political pundits--whether liberal or conservative--who are reliant on likes and scour the landscape for the next raging inferno to report on have this luxury, but it's also a chosen career where, I'm sure, they do pretty well.

But old ways die hard, and when I got the email from my employer for mandatory (virtual) "diversity and inclusion" training, my alarm bells went off. What would this entail, exactly? Will it be like a Clockwork-Orange, forced to have my eyelids held open and viewed against my will? Would it threaten my faith, put me in a precarious moral predicament, like stepping on the fumie? Would the content be objectionable? What if I refused? And should I on some kind of general religious grounds?

Since it was a slower day at work, I ended up logging in and going through the hour-long module on my computer to get it out of the way. I was bracing for the worst. In reality, it was relatively benign.

Was it PC? Sure. That's the point. Content wise, it ran the gambit-- stereotypes, racial discrimination and unintended bias and assumptions, 'micro-aggressions,' disabilities, issues of "privilege and power," identity, gender and sexual discrimination, and, yes, even religion. The thrust was that diversity is a strength to any organization, not a liability, and inclusion means fostering a welcoming environment in which to work.

Once I got past my initial 'lock the arms' defensiveness and relaxed a little, I realized something: I actually value these things too. Do I really want to work with all white, middle class Catholic men? Not really. Is there value in having different viewpoints, backgrounds, and perspectives? Of course. Do I want to work in an unwelcoming environment that would discriminate against me for maybe the most obvious source of identity in my case (religion)? No, I wouldn't. Do I value mutual respect? One hundred percent. Though I might not agree with all the assumptions, I found rather than being a kind of boogie-man, it was presented rather respectfully without any militant undertones. 

I have a bad habit of jumping to conclusions--when someone doesn't return a call or text, I think I did something wrong, or their lying dead in a ditch somewhere, when the simple explanation is they just might not have seen it, or been busy at the time. I also tend to think in worst-case, fatalistic scenarios.

I've always had a fear--maybe after reading too many Crisis articles or simply from being fanned the flames of incendiary rhetoric from conservative news sources--that is was just a matter of time before I was cornered into some kind of Title IX sting-op where I'd be forced to go against my faith and affirm something I didn't ascribe to against my will, and be disciplined or fired as a result. 

Even though I'm the only conservative I know on campus and person of faith that believes what the Church teaches (which can be lonely at times) I have a genuinely good working relationship with my team, with the faculty, the administration, and the students. I imagine most are left-learning. A fair number are gay. Because we are a public institution, we have to be inclusive, and there have been efforts to increase diversity as well. And I don't necessarily think this is a nefarious thing, if one operates under the assumption that it's not just lip service but that they are at least consciously devoted to some kind of common-good.

As Catholics, we belong to a "big tent" religion that is, in fact, diverse and inclusive, at least in the invitation. It's mission--to lead souls to Heaven through belief in the saving power of Jesus Christ--may be different from that of a place of employment, but we do see value in different rites, spiritualities, and ways of living out our respective vocations. Christ is the head, and we are His body. As St. Paul says, "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:28).

There's a balancing act that goes on when working in the world as a Christian. Diversity and inclusion is a double-edged sword--if you are required not to discriminate or stereotype minorities, or those who are disabled, or those who identify as gay or trans or whatever, it should be expected that Christians should not be either. 

We know it happens. We know we also gain merit when we are hated for Christ's name sake (Mt 10:22), and that our reward is not on this side of eternity. We are called to love, and respect the dignity of all men as children of God. One doesn't need to be ashamed of affirming this, as if they were a traitor to some kind of partisan litmus stick. We take our lashes with a smile, stand firm, tell the truth. But we don't need to egg on our perceived oppressors in order to earn the crown. If we are true to our faith, the time will come when God wills it, and He will give us the words to say at our trial (Mk 13:11). I try to keep an open-mind about things, though I know what I believe and where I stand, which makes it easier to do so, I think. I try not to judge people or make assumptions, anymore than I would like to be judged, but let things rest on their merits while valuing respect. I know all this sounds kind of hokey, but it is scriptural that "they will know us by our love" (Jn 13:35). 

I'm not trying to score any points with anyone here. Maybe if things took a more militant-bent of forcing ideologies, I'd be writing a different post. But in terms of this recent diversity and inclusion training, it wasn't anything to get up in arms about. We'll be ready for what comes if we cleave to Christ and our faith, and stand firm. But we don't have to be so taunt that we break at the slightest bow or perceived threat. Always be respectful, always smile, always tell the truth. Don't back away from anything, but don't give anyone who wishes to frame you ammunition to do so. I'm sure bigger things are coming down the pipeline. So pray, hope, and don't worry. Be wise as a serpent and innocent as a dove. And like Mother Teresa, always smile. They will know us by our love. 

The Dangers of the TLM Fight Club

I'm not a film buff, per se, but I do like movies that make you think outside the box. I can't always recommend them in good conscience, but at one point I was willing to look past the undesirable and objectionable parts if it was unique. Films like The Matrix, Kill Bill, Constantine, I Heart Huckabees--at least they got me thinking. Again, I can't recommend any of them because of their content, as I don't think the positives outweigh the potential negatives, but I'll give them credit for being unique. 

Fight Club was in this kind of cult category. I saw it maybe twenty years ago (I'm a huge Brad Pitt and Edward Norton fan as well). It's a hard movie to give a synopsis for but I'll try: The unnamed Narrator (Edward Norton) leads a life of emasculated, quiet desperation as a cog in the corporate wheel (essentially "a consumer," as he seeks to describe his existence and evidenced by his obsession with "completion" by way of his IKEA-manicured condo and soul-sucking business trips replete with "single serving" encounters). He's basically alive, but dead inside, not to mention suffering from insomnia.

The Narrator's alter-ego--the confident, virile, and violent hyper-masculine Tyler Durden--is everything the narrator is not. The Narrator likes control--Tyler tells him to "stop trying to control everything." He teaches him "rock bottom" lessons (like letting go of the steering wheel in the car and stepping on the gas, I presume to show him you can survive more than you think you can after they barrel roll over a median, blowing up the Narrator's condo (detachment) and pouring lye on his hands as a kind of pain-tolerance test).

Fight Club is the kind-of secret, underground after-hours movement that develops as a way for other emasculated men to come together and get out their repressed aggression--bare-knuckled fighting in basements. For the first time, they feel alive. This would be one thing, but Tyler sees it as a movement to free men from the drudgery of consumerism and founds Project Mayhem, a kind of domestic terror group spring from Fight Club with the ultimate goal of dismantling capitalism by blowing up the credit card companies. The movement grows; recruits stand outside the dilapidated mansion, which serves as home base in the sketchy outskirts of the city, without food or water and subject to hazing for three days to prove their meddle. Tyler becomes a kind of charismatic, fascist dictator in the process of taking things, well, a little too far. 

What does any of this have to do with the Traditional Latin Mass and the growing movement towards traditionalism in the Church, especially among young men? 

I'll grant that it might be an unorthodox way of developing parallelism, but I see a couple of cautionary points worth considering, if you're willing to think outside the box a little.

One: The post-conciliar Church is largely feminized and emasculated. This was my experience in the Novus Ordo, one I couldn't put my finger on for a long time. You can cite female lectors and EMs or overbearing Music Directors, or a ceding of paternal control to a largely female lay parish committee, or the hymns or the hand holding...the list goes on. What it boils down to is that, from my observations, the N.O. does not appeal to male sensibilities. 

Two: The vacuum will be filled one way or another. Either people leave the Church, with men leading the way out, or they will be brought back in by what appeals to those primal sensibilities. The rise of figures like Jordan Peterson and Fr. Ripperger are mobilizers in a way, to bring things back into right order and out of the chaos of the rubble when the Natural Law has been eschewed and inverted for decades.

At the TLM, the focus is not anthropocentric, but theocentric. The physicality and precision with which the sacrifice (the immolation of the Lamb, not a 'shared meal') is offered has a kind of military precision to it. It is unapologetic and uncompromising. In essence: it's not about you. And that is, I think, appealing to men. 

Three: It has the potential to go too far, when not tempered by virtue. When I attend monthly holy hour at the FSSP parish near us, fifty or sixty guys are praying the rosary and worshiping Christ. We gather in the basement afterwards for wings and beer, and a talk by the priest. It has a "Fight Club" type feel, without the Fighting. But this is because the priest is a sensible and level-headed shepherd that encourages virtue and discourages fringe-extremism. I think this is important. A charismatic but reckless priest has as much potential to lead men astray (by capitalizing on point #2, above) when his vision of the Church and holiness conflicts with the laws of the Church, prudence, temperance, and the other virtues, and/or ignores human freedom in favor of a kind of cult-like following. 

I have a real aversion to cults and cult-like thinking. I think cultish-traditionalism is as dangerous as hyper-emasculation. Younger men, especially those without temperance, wisdom, or good formation from their fathers, may be more susceptible to extremism. One young man who attended the TLM at our parish (which had nothing to do with our holy priest at the time, who unfortunately passed away from cancer two years ago, or our particular parish), spray-painted DEUS VULT and hurled a molotov cocktail at the local Planned Parenthood in an attempt to burn it down. I don't know what motivated him, but I think this is a unstable kind of zeal when it's not tempered. 

There's a way that men can get together and build one another up--even if it's in underground fashion in church basements in the sketchy part of town--without going completely Fight Club. Right Order=Right Worship, which is why I have hope that the traditionalist movement has potential to renew the Church, as long as it doesn't devolve into something antithetical to true Christian charity and the true nature of Christ as fully man, in all the best ways. We don't need Fight Clubs (nor do you need to watch the movie (please don't))--we need wisdom, prayer, and virtue, as well as priests to guide us without becoming cult-leaders--so that we can step into the roles we are called to as men, husbands, and fathers and lead our domestic churches in the home and renew the Church from the inside out and bottom up.

Humiliation

We live about fifteen minutes from the President's home in Delaware. I've biked and driven past it before, and have been to the church he calls his home parish. Around these parts, he's known as "good old Joe."

I've often wondered if I had the opportunity to encounter the President in passing (not outside the realm of possibilities), if I would be bold enough to speak truth to him. The plague of cultural, privatized Catholicism has probably done more damage to the Church and Her mission than any apostate or militant atheist could, because it rots Her foundations from the inside. Our President's profession of personal faith is not unique, but commonplace.

Last night I had a dream. I dreamed I was actually in this position of speaking the truth--not my own truth, but what the Church professes in terms of faith and morals--to one of the most powerful men in the world. It had the undercurrent of "The Emperor's New Clothes". Remember in the tale that it is a child who points out that, in fact, the Emperor sees through the nonsense and calls it as it is--the Emperor is, in fact, naked. 

Like a dumb child and without spite or malice, I point out the obvious to the POTUS in the dream: that men can't be women and vice versa; that abortion is the taking of an innocent life; that two people of the same sex can not constitute a marriage as it's meant to be. I can't remember his reaction, but I do remember the backlash. Of course it made the news. When people at work (whom I have a good working relationship with) found out about it, I was immediately fired and dissociated with. The shame was burning--I hadn't done anything wrong from a perspective of faith, but I was publicly anathema from respectable society. Of course it was only a dream. 

There's a reason why people don't speak the truth and the prophets stand alone. Elijah wanted to die rather than be tasked with what he was called to. Jeremiah, too. Jonah, Job--they all wished for death. Being a prophet is a heavy burden. Telling the truth comes with a high cost.

Catholicism still holds a modicum of respectability today; not in what it professes (which the world opposes), but as a mainstream religion. As long as it stays in it's lane. As long as it wears respectable clothes.

The theme of nakedness is prevalent in Scripture from the very beginning. Adam and Eve before the Fall were unaware of their nakedness and unashamed, but post-Fall they sought to cover themselves and hide. Shem and Japeth sought to cover their father Canaan's nakedness when he fell asleep drunk and uncovered.  

It is common practice to strip the clothes of those one wishes to humiliate. Jews were stripped of their clothes by the Nazis before they were sent to the gas chambers or executed. During the Armenian genocide women were stripped naked and crucified in public display. My friend Fr. David Nix notes in a video (since suspended) on his blog that Communists who level psychological warfare against those who oppose it do so at four levels: demoralization, dehumanization, crisis, and normalization.  

We see also in mediating on the Sorrowful Mystery of Christ's Crowing With Thorns this stripping of garments in public as a means of humiliation. His own clothes they stripped, and re-clothed him in their own clothes of mockery--a scarlet robe. Then they mocked him for his claims of being a King.

Just prior to the Lord's going before Pilate, we see Peter--whom we can all relate to and see ourselves in--denying his affiliation with Jesus. He wants to strip his identifying discipleship garments to blend in with the rest of the crowd.

One thing about humiliation and shame--it always seems to involve the public, or at least people outside of ourselves. Did Christ suffer humiliation? He does not regard the esteem of men, and is Humility itself, so I can't say the humiliations we may experience in our faith life are comparable. He knew who He was and who He belonged to. The searing of shame that we suffer in our humiliations is often in proportion to the degree of attachment to the esteem of men. 

In our faith, we often wear a cloak of our own choosing. We take the good, respectable parts of our faith--feeding the hungry, praying, going to church like a good citizen--and wear it like an identity badge. It allows us to worship within the bounds set by those in power, and live our lives relatively comfortably as "good people" without the weight of oppression.

But true, raw faith is naked, reserved for the Father's eyes only. If we do claim to be bold in proclaiming our faith publicly, we often do it on our own terms and of our own choosing. 

Stripping, however, is at the hands of others. As our Lord recounts to Peter, "I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go." Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God." (Jn 21:18) 

The Wikipedia definition of humiliation is strangely in line with how a Christian would understand it as a vehicle towards the virtue of humility: "Humiliation is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or reduced to lowliness or submission."

The Litany of Humility is an antidote to the esteem of respectability we seek, both in our lives and in our public faith. Humility is the foundational virtue on which all other virtues build. When combined with prudence (knowing when to speak and when to keep silent), justice (God's eternal law), temperance (tempering our emotions and appetites), and fortitude (brave endurance in the face of adversity). So, we need to pray and ask for it. But be careful when you do; if it blooms within you, you might just suffer a prophet's fate as a result.

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed,

Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved...

From the desire of being extolled ...

From the desire of being honored ...

From the desire of being praised ...

From the desire of being preferred to others...

From the desire of being consulted ...

From the desire of being approved ...

From the fear of being humiliated ...

From the fear of being despised...

From the fear of suffering rebukes ...

From the fear of being calumniated ...

From the fear of being forgotten ...

From the fear of being ridiculed ...

From the fear of being wronged ...

From the fear of being suspected ...

That others may be loved more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I ...

That, in the opinion of the world,

others may increase and I may decrease ...

That others may be chosen and I set aside ...

That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...

That others may be preferred to me in everything...

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…

On Neglecting To Pray The Rosary

 I dream very, very rarely...maybe a few times a year at most. But the past two nights I have woken up from disturbing dreams. And I believe they were messages from Our Lady to convey the importance of relying on her in the final days when it is grace alone that will give us the final perseverance needed to sustain our faith to the end to teach me a lesson on not taking it for granted.

The dream I had the other night I was at a party. Since I had just been to Phoenix to visit friends and we had a great big Catholic party, maybe it was on my mind. But this party in the dream was dark in its pleasure-seeking hedonism. There was no faith, no virtue--only the pursuit of dark pleasure. I realized I was grateful for my Catholicism and my Catholic friends that we could have fun without sinning, but that without faith, the temptation to sin and subsequent misery in the world today is formidable. Our faith is holding back the tidal wave.

On to the second dream. I typically attend First Friday and First Saturday Masses as a devotional practice. Unfortunately, do to circumstantial events, I was not able to make it to Mass this last Friday. I did make it to Mass this Saturday morning, but while I typically take time to pray the rosary and spend 15 minutes keeping Our Lady company while meditating on the Mysteries (as part of the devotion) before Mass, I was a few minutes late, and had to leave right after Mass, so I was not able to do so in church. When I got home, I was tied up with the kids, and also wiped out, falling asleep on the couch in the evening but not before setting my alarm for 11:30pm to give myself time to do so.

I hit the snooze button when my alarm went off at 11:30 and went back to sleep, waking up a few hours later. I headed up to bed and lazily scrolled some YouTube videos. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, "I should pray my rosary, even though I'm dead tired." But I didn't. I fell back asleep a few minutes. Just before 3am.

The dream that took place is as I recount it, now, at 4:30am. I was traveling for work, and at a recruiting event in another city at a kind of convention center. At some point there was a commotion, and I realized there were crowds of students who were seeking reparations for something. Everyone in the area had fear in their eyes. The crowd of students about eight across and twenty or thirty deep were making a kind of wave towards where I was; I figured I would go out and meet them and try to reason with them. There was a militant, merciless fortitude in their eyes when I got to the front of the wave. 

Eventually they forced me back to a dark part of the convention center. They wouldn't listen to anything I had to say, there was no reasoning. They were intimidating, but I figured were just students, what could they do. They were militant in nature, something between the Nazis and the Black Panthers. I couldn't figure out what to do and not knowing what they really wanted. There were large TV screens in the convention center. "Cut to London" one of them said, eventually tiring of my efforts to ask questions or reason with them. The TV screens appeared with the chaotic and fire-charred outside streets of UK police groveling on their knees before the crowd. It panned over to the right to another smaller group of police officers who were not on their knees, but on their backs. One by one, the members of the mob were taking giant bolt cutters....and cutting off the police officers legs who refused to submit to them, one by one, at the knee cap. "If you won't kneel to us," one of them said to me as I watched in horror, "we'll make sure you can't kneel at all."

When I awoke from the dream, it was around 4am. I realized it is Our Lady who promises to those who devote themselves to her through the First Saturday devotion, "I promise to assist at the hour of death with the graces necessary for salvation." And I had lazily and foolishly neglected to fulfill it for no good reason.

The martyrs for the faith relied on grace to persevere to the end. In the dream, the woke mob was cutting off the legs of those who resisted them (police officers, no less) without mercy. I have no doubt many of the Christian martyrs had suffered such or worse fates at the hands of totalitarian regimes of merciless persecutors. It's happening today in Nigeria, in China, in the Middle East. Our Lady has come time and time again to warn us of what is to come and to prepare us, in this life with acts of mortification and prayer. When we engage neglectful excuses not to follow her heeding, should we be surprised then if we do not have the fortitude (a grace of the Holy Spirit) to resist apostasy when the instruments of torture--or even our warm, comfortable beds--call us to deny our faith without resistance? Our Lord and Our Lady have also come to Muslims especially in dreams, and many have come to faith in Christ by way of messages to them in such states when their conscious states were not fertile ground to receive it.

The children of Fatima saw a vision of Hell--the fate that hides beneath the surface of this world for those who deny its existence and refuse to repent--and would have died of fright had Our Lady not been there with them. In my dreams, it felt like I had been given a vision of my weakness apart from Our Lady's assistance at the hour of death should I continue to neglect to heed her call and make devotion to her Immaculate Heart a priority. 

I have been so lazy, so slothful, so presumptive. When we were contracepting for years not realizing the peril we were putting our immortal souls in, it was Our Lady who finally stepped into our lives (by way of the Miraculous Medal) to wake us up and convict us. We consecrated our family to the Immaculate Heart of the 100th Anniversary of Fatima and made the promise to pray the rosary every day, a promise I have been neglecting to fulfill here and there out of laziness recently. Because I'm so slow to realize things on my own, I don't doubt our Lady was sending me a warning by way of these dreams that we will not survive the coming days without her aid. The grace of final perseverance, after the gift of faith, is the most important grace. Because as Scripture recounts, "the one who perseveres to the end will be saved." (Mt 24:13)

Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Kibeho, pray for us! And Lord, forgive me!

"I am coming soon. Hold fast what you have, so that no one may seize your crown." 

(Rev 3:11)

Why We Don't Attend The Divine Liturgy

 (I feel I need to start this post with a disclaimer to preempt any teeth gnashing and tomato throwing and also make mention that I do not like liturgy wars. I have inadvertently started them in the past and I find they never end on a palatable note. As I heard a priest once note, "There's a difference between liturgists and terrorists--you can negotiate with terrorists." I'm not a liturgist, nor do I have a strong affinity for or knowledge in all things liturgical either. I realize it is a tender area that deserves respect and sensitivity to write about. This is meant to be a largely dispassionate account of our personal and particular reasons for attending traditional Mass in the Latin Church, despite my being Byzantine by rite, not to highlight any perceived deficiencies in one liturgy or another)

Before I became a Catholic, I attended the Divine Liturgy. Though most people coming into the Church or discovering the Eastern liturgy for the first time find it exotic and other-worldly, the liturgical Church of the East was my first exposure to Catholicism before I even had any interest in the theological truths of the Faith. In other words, it was familiar and, I should say, commonplace.

My father was born to a mother who was Russian Orthodox and a father who was Ukrainian Catholic. My father was baptized as an infant at the Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Philadelphia. When he married my mother, an Episcopalian, faith was a wedge--there was no agreement as to what my brothers and I were to be raised; we were baptized in the Episcopal church as infants, attended an occasional Sunday school lesson, but any formation ended there. To avoid disagreements and arguments, my parents would attend their respective churches separately, and us kids were free to go or not go (aside from Christmas and Easter, when we would attend one or the other church as a family). 

Because I was close with my father, I would occasionally 'tag along' when he would attend the Divine Liturgy at the Ukrainian Catholic church not far from our house on Sunday mornings. Incense, the gold domes and vestments and iconostasis, crossing yourself three times (with two fingers and thumbed joined) from right to left, bowing, standing (rather than kneeling), and the prayers--this was my first exposure to liturgy (though to my mom's credit as well, hers was a high-church Episcopal that would probably today very much resemble a Mass at an Anglican Ordinariate). When we would visit my dad's great aunt up in coal-country for a funeral or something, it was usually at a Russian Orthodox church. Even today, before communion, I have the habit of beating my breast three times by way of habit, praying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner. God cleanse me of my sins and have mercy on me. Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned without number." Because I never formally switched rites (the only time it became an issue was when I was discerning a monastic vocation), I sometimes have slight guilt about not observing the Byzantine fasts (no dairy, eggs, etc). But strict legalism has never been my forte.

My 'backdoor entrance' into the Church by way of the Byzantine rite was part the heritage of my father, and part happenstance. When I went off to college, my dad gave me a list of religious services at the university and pointed out the Catholic Masses on campus. As I have mentioned in previous posts, I had a strong ransoming conversion around age sixteen that got me thinking about the eternal, desiring the eschatological, and starving for lasting happiness. I showed up at a Catholic mass in the auditorium on campus--I believe it was my first Roman Catholic Mass. I was out of sorts--I couldn't understand the casual dress or what was going on at the altar. When I eventually approached a Roman Catholic priest to inquire about becoming Catholic, I was told about RCIA. As it turns out, I had "missed the cutoff" for that year. Patience not being one of my virtues, I sought out a local Ruthenien priest who came to campus once a month to celebrate the Divine Liturgy to see what my options were. He agreed to catechize me one on one. 

The priest himself was delighted to have someone looking to join the Church, especially in the Byzantine rite. Though the catechesis was more or less solid, the priest himself was clingy and seemed emotionally stunted. I became his kind of 'poster-boy' and while most of my now-friends went to the Roman Mass on campus, I was expected to attend the Divine Liturgy. A kind of unilateral co-dependency developed, and though I was confirmed, made my first Confession and received my first communion, I began to distance myself the priest and the liturgy, and try to attend the Latin Masses whenever I could. Maybe it was a latent and delayed rebellion of the traditional liturgy that I was exposed to (but never raised in fully). Ironic that the Novus Ordo would be the 'exotic' draw.

What I did appreciate, and ended up trading in tradition for, was a kind of universality of the largest rite within the Church. Because I did not have a refined liturgical palate, this was acceptable to me at the time and, I suppose, a concession. When I traveled throughout the world over the years, "the Mass was the Mass"--whether we were sitting on tree stumps instead of pews in Haiti or in the grand expanse of Sacre Coeur, there was a universal commonality. This seemed important, as I had a heart for evangelism ("telling the other beggars where to find bread") and there is strength in numbers. For the next twenty years I would traverse through the gamut of liberal Catholicism.

 When my parents moved and my dad left behind the Ukranian church he attended, I would invite him to Mass with us in their new town. The Roman church had become familiar territory to me, but was unfamiliar for him. The Liturgy for him was, I realized, a nostalgic and familial affair. It was his connection to his father, who died when he was 21 and left a deep hole. Though I told him of a Ukrainian Catholic church not far from our house he could attend, he has not yet. I'm not sure why.

I've wondered why we haven't either as a family. Our men's group took a "Sunday Field Trip" there a few weeks ago for the Diving Liturgy (I didn't attend, for whatever reason, maybe because it's not unfamiliar to me) and the priest was welcoming and excited to have newcomers exploring the Eastern liturgy. Though our parish home is now a diocesan Latin Mass parish, I am at least comforted that we have the SSPX, the FSSP, and the Ukrainian Catholic church all relatively equi-distant. 

But when you're making a home, I have to take my wife and family into consideration. My Filipino wife never really took to the Divine Liturgy, though she has attended it with me occasionally while we were dating at my dad's parish. Any Ukrainian heritage I have I don't feel particularly feel attached to. I don't speak the language. Though the liturgy itself is beautiful and full of 'smells and bells,' there is a nationalistic element to it (pierogie festivals, Ukrainian dance nights, old ladies who speak the language) that I just don't identify with. Ethnic 'ghetto' is too strong a word, but you get the idea. 

One thing about the Eastern liturgy I have grown to appreciate in retrospect, however, is that (like the Latin Mass) it appeals to male sensibilities. There is nothing effeminate or embarrassing about either Orthodoxy or Eastern Catholicism, and for that reason I would have no qualms about attending the Divine Liturgy over the Novus Ordo. From observation, there is also a subtle 'fluid' or relaxation (not casualness) I've noticed (again, in retrospect) to the liturgical posture of the priest when compared to the tight and focused precision in the Latin Mass. (Dr. Peter Kwasniewski notes these differences in liturgical expression in Let Latins Be Latins and Greeks Greek: On Remaining Faithful to Distinctive Identities (New Liturgical Movement) and here ("The Byzantine Liturgy, the Traditional Latin Mass, and the Novus Ordo--Two Brothers and a Stranger")

Where we "take refuge" in the Church is kind of like who you marry--there's no 'one reason,' but an amalgamation of factors and personal histories that goes into attraction. I dated a lovely Catholic girl in college who for all intents and purpose would have made a lovely wife. But the timing never seemed to work out with us, and that's really all I attribute it to. And thanks be to God. I have Latin friends who have found a beautiful refuge in the Byzantine Church and its rich liturgical tradition. 

For us, for whatever reason, we have made our home in tradition and in the West. I'm not sure I can go back to the Novus Ordo. Though one of these Sundays, I'm might just to have to get St. Nicholas to remember where I came from. For old time's sake.

You Have Ten Fingers

 

Twenty years ago while I was in Haiti, walking along a dusty road to Hinche, I came across two boys next to a bicycle. I asked them in broken French what was wrong, and they pointed to the snapped chain. Taking a closer look, I told them with an air of confidence, pas bien--no good. They would need a chain tool to repair it. I fiddled with it for about ten minutes while they patiently watched, eventually throwing up my hands in exacerbation. One of the boys stepped in, placed the link on a stone, took another stone in his hand, slammed it down on top of the link to set the pin, set it on the chainwheel, and rode off. Pas mal. I always remembered that humbling encounter of third-world ingenuity. 

In China, where Christians are regularly jailed for worshiping under a Communist regime, not having access to Bibles does not stop them from imbibing the Word of God. When they have no access to the physical bound text, they have small scraps of paper with scripture verses written on them and commit them to memory before they are confiscated, because "they can't take what's hidden in your heart." 

I turn 41 next week, and middle-aged malaise has set in. I'm heavier, and groan-ier. I used to eat whole cheesecakes without gaining a pound and biked across the United States in my twenties, averaging eighty miles a day. Now I'm proud of myself when I go to the Y once a week and swim more than 30 laps. I felt good when I went though, because for once I pushed through the myriad of excuses I come up with on a regular basis and just. did. it. Though the motivation may have been disgust with myself and a desire to change, the satisfaction of doing something physical lasted throughout the day. It even lasted into today, when I went for a (albeit, short) bike ride and even pushed it into the big ring for a bit near the end.

Even if I didn't have a pool to go to, or a bike to ride, I could just as easily do push-ups and sit-ups in my bedroom with no equipment needed. Often it's not the equipment we lack, or the tools we don't own, but the drive that's missing. And it seems to scale in direct proportion to what we have, and not what we don't.

When I undertook a brief trial in 'mini-retirement' in my late twenties (essentially being in between jobs for a couple months), I thought I would take the time to write a book. I had a whole writing studio set up--and hardly wrote a thing. 

Even now, working largely remote for the past year, I realized how much I don't need from my office--file cabinet and papers. Essentially, I can do all my work with a laptop and a kitchen table. Even the mouse I use is ancillary. 

When we consecrated our family to the Immaculate Heart a few years ago on the 100th Anniversary of Our Lady of Fatima, my wife and I and I committed to praying the rosary every day. And for the most part, we have kept that promise. Every now and then I will neglect it--either from tiredness or forgetfulness--but it's not often. When I do let my guard down, chinks in the armor often develop slowly and perniciously. 

The rosary is a spiritual tool, a weapon--but it's not just fancy crystal or amber or even humble wood beads strung together. The physical "scripture on a string" can aid us in meditation, but it is not ipso facto necessary. If we leave it at home or neglect to carry it with us, there's nothing--except our inner excuses--keeping us from using what we do have--our ten fingers--to pray.