Memorare

Memorial Day is a distinctly American holiday that we can and rightfully should observe as American Catholics to respect and remember our fallen soldiers and the sacrifices they made for our country. 

As Americans, we realize our freedoms depend on the defense of these national ideals by those willing to pay the price for us to enjoy them. We owe them a debt of gratitude.

As Christians, though, we can sometimes forget that our freedom was bought at a price as well--our freedom from sin, bought with the blood of the only one able to atone for them and mitigate the wrath of God by way of sacrifice. Like Americans born on native soil into a culture we so often take for granted, we as Christians can sometimes forget the high price of such a sacrifice--the suffering and death of God's only begotten Son. 

We can enjoy--yes enjoy--the freedom from the stranglehold of sin and death by way of this sacrifice. When we are living in a state of grace, we enjoy the fruits of the Spirit--peace, hope, assurance. We give honor to God when we use this gift in a fitting manner--to sacrifice our own self-will in order to love our neighbor and will the good of another, to be the hands and feet of Christ--we do not squander, but honor, the gift that has been given to us. 

When we remember Christ's supreme sacrifice on the Cross, we are imbibed with the gratefulness of a ransomed prisoner who owes his life to the one who bought it for him, who paid the price. Gratefulness and remembrance on our part is also a small price to pay tribute on this day as Americans enjoying the fruit of freedom, which, as we all know, isn't free.

The Underrated Virtue of Moderation

 A priest I went to college with was on Pints With Aquinas recently. He became a Benedictine after college, and I knew him to be a truly humble, holy, and sensible guy. He spoke of the history of Benedictine monasticism and how St. Benedict had "an appreciation of the limits of our humanity."

Before I converted to Catholicism, the "Middle Way" of applied philosophical Buddhism held an attraction. Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha) had experienced both worldly excess as a prince and rigorous spiritualism as an ascetic, and found that neither of these two extremes brought him the peace he sought. Ultimately, the vehicle of salvation ("enlightenment") rests with the individual through their own effort, which I realized was incompatible with our true need for a savior to save us from what we could not save ourselves from--sin, death, and concupiscence. Christ was the answer and the Way--though in all things, Christ was also a kind of "middle way" between the legalism of the Pharisees and the rigor-ism of the Essenes. He fasted and ate. He drank, but never to excess. In all things, his consciousness was perfected because his focus was always to do the will of the Father, and so it was always and everywhere aligned with the Source of everything.

Although I explored various religious orders in my twenties (the CFRs, the Trappists, even the Carthusians), it was the balance and rhythm of the Benedictine Ora et Labora spirituality that kept bringing me back to them. I read the Rule of St. Benedict a few times over the years, and found it to be a good guide even for lay people of "how to live" and incorporate this under rated virtue of Moderation into their spiritual lives.

Now granted, there are some wonky modernist Benedictine sisters and monks out there. But I think the essence of St. Benedict's Rule is to carve this "middle way" between hardcore Jansenism and "detestable" laxity in religious observance. 

One interesting thing about the Benedictines is they take a vow of stability (in addition to vows of fidelity to the monastic way of life, and obedience). Stability, like moderation, is an un-sexy and under rated thing to aspire to. It means staying put, and honoring one's commitment to one's monastic community for life. Though lay people do not take vows, obviously, there may be something to this. St. Benedict makes it clear from the first chapter of the Rule that "the most detestable kinds of monks" are those who stand opposed to such obedience and stability--sarabites (a kind of roque, untethered monk who lives by his own 'rule') and gyrovagues (monks who wander from monastery to monastery, never settling down). 

What does that mean for a lay person? We can get into this post-modern mindset sometimes of doing everything possible to suit our tastes and preferences. If a priest at a particular parish isn't traditional enough or one doesn't like the homilies--well, go somewhere else. We have been faced with this temptation at times at our current parish, but I keep coming back to this idea of stability as a way for us to (not to be kitschy) "bloom where we are planted" and cultivate community that can often take years. It's harder to achieve this when you're jumping ship at the first encounter of something that doesn't suit you.

Though St. Benedict was an exacting master of himself and rigorous in his observance, he has a sensible realization and accommodation for human weakness in things that are not sin--moderate drinking, the allowance for rest and leisure, etc. Moderation has a seasoned way of wisely tempering zeal, and obedience a way of stretching us to do the things of God which go counter to the way we might decide to do things by way of our own preferences.

I recall an encounter St. Alyosius had with his spiritual director. When he entered the Jesuits at the age of 17, Alyosius was appointed a spiritual director, St. Robert Bellarmine. Level headed and patient, Bellarmine listened to Aloysius describe his extreme schedule of individual religious practice, then ordered him to cease it. He was assigned instead to work at a local hospital tending to the sick and infirmed. Squeamish, he was repulsed by the work, and he disliked people, which is probably why he was initially inclined to his private devotions and mortifications. When the plague hit Rome in January 1591, the sick and dying were everywhere, overwhelming the hospitals, and Alyosius had to dig deep and draw on that Italian stubbornness and bulldog like willpower to stomach the work. 

Like common sense today, moderation, stability, and obedience are, I think, under rated virtues. As opposed to day-trading in stocks, with the high-risk/high-reward rollercoaster of hyper-transactualism, these virtues are the un-sexy and like passive investing in boring, low-cost index funds, achieve their yields with discipline and self-restraint in the long-game over time. We can all practice them, maybe not in vows as lay people, but through stability to our parish communities, reasoned obedience to our ecclesial authorities, and fidelity to our individual prayer lives.

The Meager Fruit of Catholic Education

 

I've watched a number of episodes of EWTN's The Journey Home with Marcus Grodi. When it features reverts to the Faith, a consistent theme seems to appear--their parents all "did the best they could," which for many included being provided a Catholic education. Parents of that era (maybe 1980's-1990's) figured the "experts" would do a better job at teaching the faith and passing it on to their children than they would. These may have been families that attended Mass every Sunday and said grace before meals, but in which the imbibed spirit of faith and religion was not substantial in the home. 

My wife had this experience attending Catholic school K-12. Her immigrant parents didn't really teach the faith at home, since that was something to be learned almost as a subject in school. As a result, my wife went through twelve years of Catholic school with very little to show for it in terms of knowledge and love of the faith. No one she went to school with practices the faith as adults. I don't think it's unreasonable to judge a tree by its fruit in these instances.

I used to visit all the Catholic high schools as a college admissions recruiter. In the state we were living in at the time, the public schools were sub-par, so there was a number of Catholic school options in the area, many of them elite college-prep academies. No one sent their kids to these schools for the purpose of faith formation. They basically "weren't the public schools." Many had legacies, reputations, competitive sports teams, and favorable college placement. But they were largely indistinguishable from the public schools except maybe for the uniforms, the behavior, and the (sizable) tuition. The faith identity of the schools from what I could see were mostly "we do service." The vast majority of Catholic colleges (around here, and nationwide) stake their identity on the same unobjectionable, watered-down Catholic-lite humanism: "we do service." Well, even Atheists can "do service." So what is it, exactly, you are selling?

We are in our third year of homeschooling. I was an initial hardcore skeptic, but after seeing the fruit of being the primary educators of our children in faith and morals, as well as academics, I am a strong advocate and believer in homeschooling. Our son was the only one to attend one year of kindergarten at the local public school. His teacher was kind and a good educator, and there were no major red flags. None the less, the thought of handing over our kids to learn...well, we didn't really know what...with kids we didn't know, during his most formative years now--neither my wife nor I have any desire to do this. 

I have little faith in the large majority of Catholic schools either. Though we have a general policy of taking things "year by year, and kid by kid," our children seem to be thriving. Our 3rd grader is at a 5th grade level in reading comprehension and a 7th grade level in language arts. All we really do is read a lot to them at home, and use a general Catholic curriculum which is basic reading/writing/arithmetic. They are active in sports, theater, and co-curricular activities. Neither my wife nor I have a background in education. 

Needless to say, though, I'm very grateful we have the lawful opportunity to educate our children at home. If anyone asks me with earnest sincerity what they should do about the "school issue," I would say if at all possible (and you may have to make sacrifices to do so), homeschool. For the sake of the faith, their character, family relationships, flexibility, guarding the latency period, whatever it is, I can honestly say in the large majority of cases--you will see the fruit. And you have to, to be convinced (or reassured, if you're already in the thick of it). They are your children after all, and most parents want the best for them, but might not always know what that looks like. 

Not all children may necessarily thrive as homeschoolers. Every child is different, with different needs. But I would venture to say that many would, if given a chance. My wife left an almost six-figure salary and we made sacrifices and budget adjustments in order to homeschool our kids, with no regrets. On the flip side, though, we have no school tuition bills, no fundraisers, no constant shuttling. God has also blessed us with many unforeseen graces that confirmed this was the right choice for our family. Like I said, I hope and pray we will continue to be able to do so; if not, I may be forced into parental activism, taking to the streets with a pitchfork, given how strongly I feel about homeschooling after experiencing the benefits. 

For any parents thinking about it, I would say do whatever is necessary to at least give it a try for a least a year, and evaluate it yourself. Each family is different; but I couldn't in good conscience send my kids to the Catholic schools around here, as I feel their faith would be watered down and relegated to a corner of their lives, rather than permeating every aspect of it. With some exceptions, the large majority of them simply have not produced good fruit in terms of a legacy of retaining the faith. Which begs the question--what good is a Catholic school if it doesn't produce good Catholics?

The A-List of the Damned

 Years ago, I had an idea for a novel. It involved a holy priest who set off for the mission field of...Hollywood. He rented a room in Skid Row, a stone's throw from Tinseltown, and lived a simple, unassuming life. His aim? To convert the culture from the inside out, starting with the celebrities who he saw as ultimately lost to the world. Over the years, he set himself to making the rounds on foot down Rodeo Drive, hoping to have chance encounters with movie stars so he could sneak--er speak--the Gospel to them. "So many wounded, searching and unhappy souls thirsting for Christ," he would say. "The rich need the Christ too." He figured if he could reach just one--a Justin Bieber or a Brad Pitt--it might be the spark that starts a fire in the Land of the Stars.

It was a tough rope to walk. How do you be in the world and not corrupted by it? Were these celebrities so enmeshed in a culture antithetical to the Gospel too far gone, too closed off, to hear the salvific message of Christ? Most of them, he figured, were. "But if I could just reach one..." he reasoned.

Ultimately the priest did encounter a B-list celebrity at a coffee shop going through a personal crisis; the soil for the gospel seed to take root was fertile in that moment, and the priest spoke to him with compassion and of the well that never runs dry. He invited him to Mass, which the priest himself would attend everyday not con-celebrating but sitting in the back pew unassumingly. 

After a few months, the actor stepped through the doors, and the priest embraced him. A friendship developed, and the priest shared Christ with Him, broke open the scriptures, and ultimately heard his confession, as he had been raised Catholic. The actor began to change his life, as the materialism of the L.A. lifestyle lost its luster. He told others in the industry who, like him, were not happy and searching for 'something more' about the priest. Word spread, underground, and soon a small group of actors and actresses would visit him on Skid Row to learn more about this Christ, to serve the homeless, and have their lives transformed. 

Though I never got the novel off the ground, I thought the storyline was a good one. A bit naive, but good. 

I always thought celebrities were just successful people who were wrapped up in the things of the world. But after a friend send me a video of an ex-Freemason-turned-Christian who spent five hours exposing the extent to which Freemasonry has infiltrated the entertainment industry, I realized there is something more nefarious going on in the spiritual aquifer beneath L.A. (Note: I watched the entire five hours, and though it seems kind of out there, it sheds light and explains a lot about the link between Satanism and Freemasonry and how prevalent it is in this industry, as well as politics. Search YouTube: "X-Factor Winner Reveals World's Secret Religion"

Can the Gospel seed take root when the lost have literally sold themselves to Satan for the promise of fame and fortune? Not without some serious battle-waging, as I see it. Deliverance Prayers for the Laity (Sensus Traditionis Press) has prayers for the breaking of curses specific to Freemasonry, including Scottish Rite and 33rd degree (highest order), so one can see that it is no easy thing to extricate from the bondage of such influence. There is a hatred of Christianity wrapped in the guise of fraternity and charitable service within these orders, and as the narrator of the video makes clear, some at the lower levels may not even realize they are part of the front for the more nefarious dealings in the higher ranks. 

If Satan is the prince of this world, and can deliver on his promises to provide one with their heart's desires for the things of the world (money, power, fame), is it any wonder the rise to fame some of these marginally talented agents have experienced? The thing is, he doesn't work for free, but expects something in return--ie, your soul. They have their reward.

But that doesn't mean some don't want to 'get out' but don't know how. I think of the Katie Holmes', in her case trying to escape Scientology, who had seeds of faith planted in her childhood, as one example. It must be a scary thing to be so awash in a sea of evil that you have no hope for someone coming to ransom you. But Christ can do all things. In the novel I had dreamed up, a holy priest saw the "poorest of the poor" in the spiritually lost but materially rich celebrities and went to them. One must have a deep and strong faith to resist the temptations one would encounter working in this dangerous collective spiritual environment. The priest has the authority and power given to him by Christ to exorcise such demons, but he must be living a holy, prayerful, and virtuous life himself not to be corrupted by its influence. 

I think this nefarious taproot goes deeper than we can imagine, especially in the worlds of politics and entertainment.  Who will save the lost? Are they worth saving? Are they open to grace and the redemptive power of Christ? Don't underestimate the grip of evil and not being in a state of grace, but don't give it more power than it deserves either. Christ is victorious over death itself--he can save those who cry out to Him. But He asks, "Who will I send?"

Two Sides of the Same Coin

 

Once upon a time, in a lefty-galaxy far away, there was a Jesuit priest named John Dear. He had entered the Society of Jesus in the early 1980's and was passionately active for the cause of social justice and peaceful non-violence. His civil-disobedience for causes of nuclear disarmament, war, and the umbrella of injustice at large landed him in prison over seventy five times. As part of the Plowshares disarmament movement (taking from the scripture in Isaiah that "they shall beat their swords into plowshares"), they would break into government military bases and hammer on the warheads as an act of imperial defiance. Jesus said "love your enemies," and from their vantage point, militarism was in violation of this command and demanded a response. 

As Dear's personal mission of "peace and non-violent ministry" grew more all-encompassing and active, he seemed to see everything through the lends of non-violence everywhere. Jesus was not just the crucified Savior, but the "Non-Violent Jesus." According to an article in CNA, 

"The priest believes that to follow Jesus means “to work to end killing and poverty, and to promote peace, love, and nonviolence, and justice, as he teaches in the Sermon on the Mount.” 

“Was Jesus violence or nonviolent?” he asked. “If he's nonviolent, then we have to be nonviolent, or we're not like him; we're not following him, and it's all a big game.” 

To shed light on this kind of subtle idolatry the priest espouses, the article adds,

Fr. Dear acknowledged that “ultimately, you could say that what happened to me is a question of theology. I'm arguing that Jesus and God are nonviolent,” he said, while “the bishops and the Jesuit leaders” hold to theories which allow for war and violence under certain circumstances.

The source who spoke with CNA said that one can suspect that Fr. Dear “has a very unique take on nonviolence, on who Christ is,” and “obsesses that Jesus is all about nothing but the notion of peace, and, as far as I can tell, the peace that the world gives; not the dynamic peace of Christ.”

The source characterized Fr. Dear as “taking something that is a truth, and trying to turn it into all truth…he's really gotten into this particular subculture” rooted in the late 1960s and the vision of Fr. Daniel Berrigan, a Jesuit who protested against the Vietnam war and destroyed draft files.

In 2012, Dear was dismissed from the Society of Jesus for “obstinately disobedient to the lawful order of Superiors in a grave matter." He “was duly informed ... that his failure to obey the command that he return to the specified house of the Order by a specified date would be cause for his dismissal from the Society of Jesus.” Dear announced his dismissal publicly in a blog post at the National Catholic Register in January of 2013, and said he would not return to his community.

Why, you might ask, am I wasting time and ink writing about a SJW activist priest no one outside of NCR world has heard of or cares about, who has had his faculties removed almost ten years ago? He was admittedly "passionate and outspoken," and the mission/ministry he had prioritized had put him at odds with his Superior who was forced to 'reign him in' so to speak. 

His followers involved in the lay-it-on-the-line peace activism of the 1990's Pax Christi era must have surely felt it was an injustice that someone so passionate and committed to the cause of Christian non-violent pacifism was being unjustly canned by the establishment Superior General. "If only there were more John Dear, SJs, in the world...we might have peace and true non-violence." 

I remember reading one of Dear's books I found in our library at the Catholic Worker (see: "I Was A Lefty Catholic And Other Tales"), so his name at least was familiar. I thought at the time, even as someone who "wanted peace, so was working for justice," that he had kind of made an idol of this non-violent Jesus, seeing everything through this particular lens. 

Passion and commitment are not bad things, but obviously need to be channeled and tempered by virtue and, as a religious, obedience ("one of the hardest vows," a Benedictine priest told me once, "even harder than chastity.") The hammering-on-warheads-protest thing was not my cup of tea--I was serving the poor in the streets, but this kind of political activism viz-a-viz Liberation Theology just wasn't my thing. Obviously, for this particular SJWSJ, it didn't end well. Or maybe it freed him up to do what he felt he couldn't as a Jesuit.

So again, why am I writing about it? I don't know, it just feels...like I've been here before. Like it's just one side of the same coin, just being flipped in a different ideological hemisphere. If you've been following the Catholic news the past few days, I imagine you'll be able to read between the lines and see what I'm inferring. Same issues, just different lenses and factions. 

Don't get me wrong--I'm rooting for good orthodox priests. I'm not sure John Dear was a good priest, or if he was, he "lost his way," as was noted in the CNA article. It's not easy being a priest. It's not easy being a bishop or Superior either. What is easy is posting what 'side' you're on concerning whatever the issue of the day is. Things tend to heat up quickly when you're a passionate and outspoken priest, president, or pundit, and especially when you have a following by virtue of the good and laudable things you have done to serve them.  

I'm at the point in my own faith walk, though, where it has become a little easier to sit back and let the dust settle before making judgments on things, if I even get around to that. It can help to have all the information to do so, and that isn't always possible 'in the moment.' I don't even have to have an opinion or stance (thank goodness!). The coin will fall where it will, when it stops spinning and lands. Heads or tails....sometimes it just feels like two sides of the same coin.

Extra Catholica: A Quick and Dirty Post

As mask mandates at the state level begin to wind down, we seem to be faced with yet another extra-Catholica point of contention occupying many Catholics' conscience which actually does have a (remote?) moral dimension: to vaccinate or not to vaccinate. 

Again, the degeneration of the point at hand into caricatures is lamentable: Are all those who choose to "take the jab" for whatever reason "scaredy-cat Catholics living in fear of a virus with a 99% survival rate?" Are those who choose to forgo it "staunch Anti-vaxxer" conspirators either opposed to or suspicious of big pharma and the New World Order? 

I have friends and fellow Catholics on both sides of the aisle here. Being neither competent in bioethics or moral theology, I'll reiterate something I wrote in "Navigating the Catholic Culture War" when masking was the the issue du jour just a few months ago:

"Somewhere along the line, the whole COVID anti-masking thing became conflated with traditionalism, and the social media conjecturing became for some a parrot of leftist virtue signaling (posting photos in masks, photos of one getting the vaccine, etc). Which gets a little confusing I imagine if your in that Venn-intersection of points. Most of the traditionalists I know are also staunchly against masking as a matter of principal. It would be strange, really, at least in my sphere, if someone was adamantly pro-mask and a traditional Catholic, kind of like a non-sequitur. This may tie in with the idea of a globalist New World Order in which mandatory masking is part of the overall global agenda to vaccinate and depopulate, and that to participate in it makes one complicit in ultimately undermining liberty and personal autonomy.

Once again, I find myself just right of center on the issue: I reluctantly mask when I have to (though using it as a chin cup whenever I can) because I think they are disgusting and for the most part ineffective, and never really for extended periods of time thankfully. I hate that I can't see people's smiles or expressions. Am I willing to go to jail over it? Probably not. Call me unprincipled. 

But does it undermine my Catholicism? Not that I was ever in da club the first place, but does traditionalism extend beyond the liturgy into these peripheral spheres, I wonder. Does one gain something from a traditionalist's standpoint for not wearing a mask or choosing not to get vaccinated? Or if something the Pope does is given a sympathetic gesture, does it undermine their street-cred? Is traditionalism about traditional worship and living out the virtues, or the principled peripheral items that determine one's standing? How does one make these determinations for themselves, and what if they come to a conclusion that goes against these cultural norms?" 

If I had to slam a nail down on the issue at hand swirling around in these distractions, I would say the role of the conscience begins to rise to the surface so that it should at least be brought up. John Henry Cardinal Newman is probably my favorite saint to explore this existential praxis:

"Conscience is a law of the mind; yet [Christians] would not grant that it is nothing more; I mean that it was not a dictate, nor conveyed the notion of responsibility, of duty, of a threat and a promise.... [Conscience] is a messenger of him, who, both in nature and in grace, speaks to us behind a veil, and teaches and rules us by his representatives. Conscience is the aboriginal Vicar of Christ."   

--"Letter to the Duke of Norfolk," V, in Certain Difficulties felt by Anglicans in Catholic Teaching II (London: Longmans Green, 1885), 248.

The queer thing about conscience is that the end choice of a moral wrestling may emerge in a different guise in one person than it does in another. This is not the justifying of things always contra to the moral law (apostasy, fornication, birth control, etc), but to the degree we have the moral freedom to "love and do what thou will" as St. Augustine said, one person's apparent 'sin' in things extra Catholica is another's clear conscience, while simultaneously not being in contradiction to the moral law.

I think Paul's words to the Corinthians in 1 Cor 8 is worth mulling over a bit here:

"Now about food sacrificed to idols: We know that “We all possess knowledge.” But knowledge puffs up while love builds up. Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by God.

"So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that “An idol is nothing at all in the world” and that “There is no God but one.” For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”), yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.

But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food they think of it as having been sacrificed to a god, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled. But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do.

Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone with a weak conscience sees you, with all your knowledge, eating in an idol’s temple, won’t that person be emboldened to eat what is sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother or sister, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall."

But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do. Good "food" for thought here (pun intended)

This is the 'extra catholica' I refer to in the modern context. And as I often, at least try, to do, I want to hold up a mirror: for the staunch and faithful Catholics whose conscience compels them to forgo the jab, resist masks, and any additional accouterments that attach themselves to those convictions--how are you regarding your brother in Christ who does not? 

Dig deep. Do you harbor contempt and/or judgment? Do you presume his reasons for doing so ("He must be scared. He's a blind sheeple. He's weak-willed.") Do you will his good, even if it looks different than what you have determined to be the good? Do you paint in broad strokes? Do you dismiss their words? Do you speak ill of them? Condemn them? 

If you don't, I give you credit--you are doing better than I am. It is alarmingly easy to suddenly become the grimacing old woman in the pew scowling at the ill-behaved children, the lack of a veil, the communion-in-the-hand-receiving parishioner. And lest you think this has no moral consequence, remember our Lord's words:

"For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged" (Mt 7:2)

I want to spare the scrupulous, for they do not need extra helpings of condemnation. So maybe it would be more beneficial to think of it in terms of energy, to which I turn to the erudite and simple-hearted St. Teresa of Calcutta:

 "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." 

This is what I see as the unfortunate waste of extra-Catholica issues: it's not that the issue at hand is not important or has not moral dimension, but that it siphons off what we need to do what is at the heart of the Christian life, and that is to love. I'd like to say it better than Mother, but I can't. Even in writing this post, it's not to condemn or lament, but to remind. I'm not your judge or arbiter, but sometimes we just need someone to hold up a mirror which is really all I see my role as. 

In the inner sanctuary of the conscience, we stand alone before God--we do not answer to each other, to our fellow parishioners, or even the Pope. This is the existential dimension of the Christian: to make the choices--even in seemingly peripheral matters that DO MATTER--and take radical responsibility for them. The Christian life is not completely objective (it is always a sin to 'x') and not completely subjective (it is never a sin when I 'y'), but a pivoting and discerning dance between these two dimensions. Can we judge actions and sin--of course. And not only that, we are called to. Thankfully we have the moral law to make those determinations objectively, to speak the truth in love. But it is the subjective dimension--the choices of others--that may take a little more digging, a little more prudent discernment.

I don't know about you, but my energy is in short supply these days. Last year, I was completely over-extended, partly because I did not guard it as carefully for the things that mattered. I learned a hard lesson from that--to focus on the fundamental things--my faith, my family, my prayer life, my responsibilities--and not have things siphon off from what was important. Judgement, worry and anxiety, anger--these are the things in our spiritual lives which siphon off from the source the very things we need to be careful to preserve. Which is why these extra catholica issues, for me at least, have become wearisome and distracting. I love less and less effectively to the degree with which I am judging my brother. I know this, for myself, to be true. We all have to bear the judgment for our actions and moral choices when we stand alone before God, and bear account of every idle word spoken. 

For me, it's a sobering thought. Maybe it is for you too? 

"Is There Any Reason Why I Should Remain Catholic? Yes. Here's why:

 One Peter Five ran a piece today that a priest friend forwarded to me. It is written by an anonymous seminarian titled "Is There Any Reason Why I Should Remain Catholic?" He is leaving the seminary in disillusionment at the lack of faith and clear doctrinal teaching in the modern Church, and is self-admittedly bitter and resentful.

I find the people who care the most are sometimes the most vulnerable to this danger of--well, let's not mince words--apostasy. You literally almost have to wear blinders today, and not get too close to see "how the sausage is made" in the institutional Church to shield and preserve oneself from this phenomenon. As I recounted in "Like An Ox":

"The more I try to live for the Lord and try to surround myself with people who desire the same, the more I have come to see that trait of stubbornness less as a liability and more as an asset, when mobilized in a virtuous manner. In the coming days, the days of martyrdom, the would-be saint would do well to cultivate a kind of bull-headedness in regard to refusing to sin, refusing to relent in holiness, even under pressure and persecution. You have to be!"

I feel for this seminarian (the article is worth a read, if nothing else to take as a warning sign and having your eyes wide open), but I don't agree with his conclusion, mostly because I refuse to sign on to bitterness and resentfulness (not fruits of the Spirit), but hang my hat on the virtue of hope. 

But, pragmatically speaking, I have a few words and insights to offer in terms of avoiding this state of being, remaining in the Church, and joyfully so. 

First, as I told our men in bible study this morning--the future Church will be a remnant of it's past self, the shell of a cicada, almost unrecognizable to its former days of glory in years past. Benedict XVI foresaw this in his "small Church" proclamation in the 1960's. You have to realize that you will often stand alone, even in the Church itself, to remain faithful. And faithful you must be, to the very end, for the crown belongs only to those who persevere.

Speaking of perseverance, we must remember that perseverance is a grace, and one we must ask and pray for. If you are not praying, daily--and often in spite of, not because of, the state of the institutional Church--you will not receive it. Martydom of the self is not for wusses, and those who look back aren't worthy of it. You have to assume the bull-headedness of an ox...that despite the abuse, despite the lack of spine, despite the loss of faith, you WILL BELIEVE, and continue to do so until your last breath. 

Secondly, and this is one I try to practice myself--don't get too close to the sausage machine. Turn off Church Militant and other sensationalist media outlets addicted to bad news. Refuse to capitulate or be influenced by others lack of faith. If you realize you will stand alone, you will not be caught unawares when you are, since that is the norm, not the exception. Do not be surprised by a lack of faith in the larger Church, by cultural Catholics--our Lord and our Lady told us so. Trust their words. 

Finally, I could go on, but I'll end with this--don't worry about what others are doing: put the blinders on so all you see is the Cross in your line of vision. You don't change a marriage by working on the other person--you start with yourself. Cultivate virtue, pray daily (even when you have to grind it out), continue to attend Mass and receive the sacraments, teach your children, and yes, evangelize--but with a 'eyes wide open' mentality to the one you are speaking with. Don't sugar coat the crap like they do with those NFP posters. The Christian life is not for wimps; no easy street. This is the attraction, not the deterrent, because anything worth it's weight is hard and costs. 

I have two sons. Would I advise them to go into the priesthood? It's a tough one. God calls, we only respond. If they have the call, I would tell them to think long and hard, pray, and choose wisely. The diocesan seminaries are largely a wasteland, so I would try to steer them towards the FSSP or ICKSP. These seem to be the places where men are going in and coming out with their faith in tact, though they are not immune from the threats. 

Remember, when you stand at the Judgement, you stand alone. So you'd better work on yourself in this life, pray for grace, and have a heaping dose of humility and stubborn perseverance. Other's lack of faith--from the Pope on down--are not your concern. Be the remnant. Own your faith and live it out in spite of the filth. Respect the Chair, but don't put your trust in princes, especially princes of the Church. We need priests (no priests, no Church), but we need good ones who believe and are committed to doing what is necessary to save souls by God's grace in the Sacraments, not apostates and careerists. Only those with grit and bruised knuckles are going to make it out alive. 

Tithing: It's Not All About the Benjamins

 This afternoon I got an interesting letter from a charitable organization that seemed to be thinking outside the box. Given the reform in tax law under Trump disincentized itemizing deductions (including charitable giving), our family, like many others, have not been donating as much to charities. That's not to say we haven't been giving--we continue to support our parish and St. Vincent de Paul, as well as writing checks for families in need who otherwise fall through the cracks of government assistance. Qualified Charitable Distributions (QCD) seems to be an effective way to offset the loss of tax-advantaged giving for individuals, since you don’t have to report the distribution as taxable income. The only caveat is you have to be at least 70 and a half (when one is required to take RMDs from an IRA).

When I do our retirement projections and crunch numbers, we stand to "earn" way more in retirement than we ever did by working (the magic of compound interest). So it's tempting to pivot: We can 'optimize' our giving and leverage it three or four fold if we bank what we would normally give during our younger years in our IRAs and earmark it for charities as QCDs when we hit 70 and a half. Most people use their RMDs for niceties, since its the icing on the cake in the "golden years," so why not put it to good (ie, better) use?

But I think this neglects to take into account that tithing is not for or about the poor--it's for and about us.

When I start to reason in this way, it sounds familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on where I heard it. Oh yeah...

“Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the proceeds given to poor people?” (Jn 12:5)

How does the beloved disciple respond to Judas' shrewd optimization tactic?

"Now he said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and as he kept the money box, he used to steal from what was put into it." (Jn 12:6) 

Judas was thinking with an earthly mind. But what does St. John Chrysostom, a true lover of the poor, say?

“The rich exist for the sake of the poor. The poor exist for the salvation of the rich.” 

Of course we know our Lord has a different perspective than that of Judas (who does not think as God does) and recounts a lesson for the disciples in Lk 21:1-4 with the parable of the widow's mite:

"And He looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the treasury,  and He saw also a certain poor widow putting in two mites. So He said, “Truly I say to you that this poor widow has put in more than all; for all these out of their abundance have put in offerings for God, but she out of her poverty put in all the livelihood that she had.”"

Giving 'til it hurts' is an exercise, just like physical exercise. It can be tough, but it conditions us to weave charity into the fusion of our secular and spiritual lives. It also teaches something (especially to our children) that money can't buy: generosity and faith, specifically through charity. It is the conditioning of the soil of virtue for future generations to reap from.

Like those who develop habits of virtue earlier in life, they set their trajectory towards Heaven and reap the rewards one hundred fold...even if its not in this life. They are like the wise virgins in the parable, with oil in their lamps and ready when the Bridegroom comes (Mt 25:1-13). Deathbed conversions are not as common as one might think, and changing one's trajectory at the last moment, while possible, requires a large infusion of grace and surrender. 

As tempting as my thoughts on back-loading and optimizing our giving through QCDs later in life, I don't think our giving should be about 'efficiency' and 'optimization.' There's nothing wrong with this (nor is there anything wrong with having a functional webpage or a friendly secretary at a parish, which can go a long way in evangelization, for instance), but it tends to miss the point: it's not all about the Benjamins. Giving is an exercise of the heart. It works clenched fists and kneads them into open palms. It erodes shrewdness and encourages generosity. It chooses messy encounter over keeping the poor at a distance with our checkbooks. The Lord God came in the flesh to serve, wash feet, and ultimately give his life for men. He was not concerned with eradicating poverty once and for all but that all men should come to salvation through His Holy Name and by His teaching. 

Does this mean we can sit back on our laurels quoting Mt 26:11 and do nothing? Of course not. We are called to "do the work" as it is given to us, and each to his own abilities and means. God gives us the grace, but expects us to exercise and sweat to attain virtue through self-denial and service to others. Charity is a sure way to learn in the school of love our savior was headmaster of. 

Radical Authenticity

I'm not a good liar. I could probably count on my hand the number of lies I have told in my life; partly because I have such a horrible memory that I can't keep stories straight, and partly because it causes an inevitable amount of anxiety. I found it easier to just always vow to tell the truth to simplify my life (not to mention that lying is a vice and sin). 

There are very few TED talks I get a lot out of, but this one I came across was very good. 

The talk is by a man in recovery from drug addiction who went on to start a multi-million dollar healthcare software company by exercising the three principals he were told in recovery that were so important that if he didn't practice them on a daily basis he wouldn't live. These principals were:

Practice Rigorous Authenticity

Surrender The Outcome

Do Uncomfortable Work

He tells a couple stories of early on when he was getting clean and having to find a job of being tempted to lie to cover up the three year gap in his resume. But he remembered the first principal, took a deep breath in an interview, and told the truth to the manager at Sam Goody. To his surprise, rather than not getting the job, the manager asked, "so when can you start?"

Later on, in corporate America of all places, he was promoted eight times in eight years for living by that principal, because those above him knew they could trust him. 

He was severely tested after going out on his own with a business partner, lines of credit maxed out and 401ks emptied, when there was a glitch in their software which affected a patient and he found himself again in the position of being tempted to not disclose it. Their whole business hinged on a contract that would make or break them, and he didn't know how the client would respond to the disclosure. When he told them about the glitch and held his breath, the client laughed "When I get a call like this, it's usually for 20,000 patients, not one. Most people should tell me, but they don't. If anything, I'm more confident in you now because you told the truth."

Radical (rigorous) authenticity is a principal I try to live my life by. If someone is not authentic, I can smell it, and would rather not have anything to do with the person--it's not worth my time. I had a friend years ago who dated a compulsive liar. His lies were so intricate it was like he was living a double life. I don't know how people like this live. It sounds exhausting, not to mention pathological.

These are good principals to live by in our lives of faith, I think. Be authentic--act around others as if you were alone, and alone as if you were around others. As King David said to the Lord God, "Cleanse me from my hidden faults" (Ps 19:12). Surrender the outcome, as St. Alphonsus, St. Francis de Sales, and Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade and others teach in their writings--"cast your cares on Him, for He cares for you" (1 Pt 5:7). And finally, do the uncomfortable work you are called to do, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks behind is fit for the kingdom of God" (Lk 9:62). 

For this addict, practicing these principals daily meant he would live. For us as Christians, putting the commands and words of our Lord Jesus Christ into practice means we will die, but find our life beyond this world. It is the radical paradox of the Christian life and the martyr's calling. When everything is on the line, it's apostasy which is the death of the soul we should fear. 

But we can't live it if we are not authentic, first and foremost. God knows our inner hearts, and though we don't have to wear our hearts on our sleeve to others, we can bear ourselves to Him in secret so that He might remake us into who He wants us to be for His purposes. 

Thermal Mass

Thermal mass refers to the ability of a material to absorb and store heat energy. Water has the highest thermal mass, which is why there are not huge temperature fluctuations in, say, the ocean. Materials like brick and stone also can absorb a good amount of heat and radiate it out over time. This is why in desert climates like New Mexico, building things like a Trombe wall to absorb sunlight in the winter through a south facing window helps to round out the extremes of a homespace being too hot during the day and too cold at night, and reduce heating costs. I'm actually in the midst of designing a solar furnace now, since our brick home faces due south and we heat with oil, so I guess thermodynamics is on my mind.

At our men's bible study yesterday morning the topic of joy in faith was brought up reflecting on John 17. For many of the men who had come to faith, they described the uncomfortable reality that they were having more trouble relating to their former secular-minded friends who regarded 'happiness' (temporary and circumstantial) as the highest ideal. For the Christian, joy is a deeper seated virtue that goes beyond emotion or circumstance, as is recounted in Acts 16 with Paul and Silas singing praise to God while in prison. It is the well that doesn't run dry our Lord encourages us to draw from (Jn 4:13). 

Like a trombe wall, faith and joy in the Christian life makes one more resilient to things that may otherwise break us, because it draws its strength from a deeper, more stable source. Our faith is a kind of "thermal mass" that rounds out the wild fluctuations in emotional responses which are dependent on external circumstances. It is joy that radiates outwards gently from the inner virtue of faith. 

Sickness, misfortune, and even death, when viewed through an eternal lens, are seen through an ordered perspective--they are not the 'be all end all' of our lives. For the person steeped in the world, they are buffeted by circumstances and emotions because their happiness depends on them being favorable; when they are not, dis-ease and unhappiness sets in. Even when things are good, their temporal nature means they may not be forever, which also produces this kind of frenzied striving to keep the external circumstances highly regulated. Consumerism, materialism, hedonism, seeking to control, etc--these are kinds of imperfect coping mechanisms in the absence of faith and its handmaid, joy. 

As someone possessing a more or less doddery composition, and a highly sensitive brain chemistry, I can say that faith has added much-needed 'thermal mass' to my emotional life, and joy as the byproduct. I don't have the wild fluctuations anymore as they are tempered by something deeper beneath the surface, which is grace working. It doesn't always make the circumstances of life easier, but it does form our responses to them to be dictated by more than just fleeting, reactionary responses. We are able to 'store' the energy of joy in this wall of faith to draw from when, like Paul, we find ourselves in the proverbial prison cell. When darkness falls, and the sun is not shining, it is faith that sustains us through the night. The sacraments, especially the Eucharist, give us this kind of spiritual 'thermal mass' to sustain us over the long haul through trials which may otherwise break us in half. 

When we build our lives around this faith as the cornerstone--which is Christ--we find we expend less energy frantically heating and cooling our emotions and reactions, and simply (passively, if you will) accepting what life throws us to be absorbed and subsequently tempered through the thick wall of faith. We need less to make us happy, because we grow to love what money can't buy, that which is freely given to us by grace. We expend less energy trying to control our external environment and more time investing in our inner sanctuary, the heart, which does not break down like a worn cog, but beats stronger the closer it comes to the source of Life, which is Christ. 

It costs us everything to live this way, but paradoxically we gain our lives when we lose them, as Scripture says. The Christian builds his life not with the cheap plywood and two-by-fours of the self, but around the unshakable rock of Christ who took on the sins of all the world and poured himself out as an oblation for men, transforming the earth from the inside out by his death on the cross. And so rather than being buffeted by the fickle winds of the world, we can draw from a deeper source that is sufficient unto Himself so that with Saint Paul we can say "It is no longer I who live, but Christ in me" (Gal 2:20).

Bad Trads @ USC

 Boniface at Unam Sanctam Catholicam has a good post on the disillusioning trend I've witnessed to a degree myself as well. Though I'm not online as much these days (where I think it tends to be more prevalent), it's disheartening when you see such great potential (as I've tried to outline early on in our shift towards traditional Catholicism, here in 'Tradition and Charity: The Face of Renewal) get soured by some off-putting uber-trad apples. Or maybe that's what it's been all along and we're the middle-line softies? IDK, you decide. Personally, I found outrage culture tiresome in liberalism, and even more so in traditionalism. Have a read:

http://unamsanctamcatholicam.blogspot.com/2021/05/when-trads-choose-barabbas.html