The Challenges of an Interfaith Marriage

I grew up in a mixed-faith household. My mom came from an Anglican background, and my dad was an Eastern-rite Catholic. Though neither of them were especially religious, it was a point of contention in their marriage; my dad did not respect the Episcopal church, and my mom didn't feel especially comfortable with the exclusivity of Catholicism. I guess that is why my brothers and I were not raised in either faith tradition and kind of left to our own devices.

Love has no walls as they say. You can't always help who you fall in love with. Love is blind, and its embers often jump the circle of the fire pit. 

But marriage is almost the opposite--it is a conscious choice, informed by reason and a healthy dose of pragmatism. After eleven years of marriage--not quite veterans, but not quite newlyweds either--I'm still amazed how much of building a life with someone is largely nuts-and-bolts stuff. 

Because of the way I grew up, when I became Catholic at age 18, I had it in the back of my mind that I would never marry a Protestant if I could help it. My now-wife had more temptations to marry outside the Catholic faith, though it was not her preference. Her faithful Christian friends encouraged her to consider 'widening her net' to include faithful non--Catholic Christians in her dating pool. She prayed to meet and marry a Catholic whom she could share her faith with though, and God honored that prayer. It has been a major point of unity in our marriage that we are grateful for.

Marriage is hard. Faith is hard. Faith within marriage is no exception. The living out of love within marriage is expressed in the daily routine and sacrifices marriage calls for. The living out of one's faith, likewise, is expressed in works, which looks different for a Catholic and a Protestant, especially when they are both faithful to their respective traditions.

What seems to happen more often than not is that one partner concedes things to keep the peace. It could be in obvious ways (not attending Mass) or subtle ways (not expressing devotion to Mary, 'holding back' in prayer, etc). Some couples make it work--they agree to raise the children Catholic, as one example, or attend Mass every Sunday as a family. But there is still something missing that creates a longing in one or both parties--to share something they love with the person they love, fully and without reserve. There will always be a part of their soul which lives in loneliness in these instances.

Can a Catholic marry a Protestant and make it work? Sure. Should they? That's another question entirely. Even as a child, I never doubted my parent's love for and commitment to one another and their vows; they have been married for almost fifty years. But there was an element of unity which was lacking in our family with regards to faith. 

For this reason, for any young fervent Catholic who falls in love with a Protestant Christian, I would say be very discerning. Just because you love someone, doesn't mean it always makes sense to marry them (though sometimes the wind of the Holy Spirit blows where He will, and will use it for God's glory). You will undoubtedly have challenges in an interfaith marriage that two Catholics marrying will not have to deal with, and you will need to go in with eyes wide open. 

Personally, I would always caution a young Catholic against marrying a Protestant. Marriage is different from any other relationship. It is not just rooted in love and commitment to the vows, but in creating and sharing a life together...for life! And we are called to love and serve the Lord through our spouse, but to put Him before them. "You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve" (cf 1 Sam 7:3). One also cannot serve two masters, for "either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other." (Mt 6:24).

Marrying another Catholic does not magically solve all your problems and no marriage is immune from difficulties, but it does create a unique environment of fertile ground for the seed of faith to be nourished in unity by the Sacrament. To quote Cardinal Burke, "There is no greater force against evil in the world than the love of a man and woman in marriage." How much more so when they are one flesh, united in the true faith. 

The Publican and the Zealot

 

I went to Mass on campus yesterday and it was the feast of SS. Simon and Jude. St. Jude is on my rolodex and I have "hopeless cause" miracles in our life that I credit to his intercession. St. Simon, however, I can't remember ever praying to! I'm not even sure in all honesty why the two are grouped together for this particular feast day. 

In the homily, the priest spoke about St. Jude on his own, and then about Simon (the Zealot) as the first part of this pair. But then he brought in St. Matthew to show just how opposite ends of the political spectrum these two holy apostles were. "It would be like one guy wearing a MAGA hat, and the other who is completely opposed (to Trump)." Or maybe like the way the Jews and Samaritans despised one another. 

It's a good point worthy of reflection, though. Simon was a Zealot, a political faction of Jews who despised being under Roman occupation and sometimes resorted to violence to achieve their political ends. And then you have Matthew, who is literally regarded as a traitorous Jew WORKING for the Romans...collecting taxes, no less! It would be an understatement to say that it was probably hard to trust him, or figure out why Jesus would call him. 

In the apostolic family, Simon and Matthew are both brothers and saints. They grew the Church and achieved sancticty working side by side whereas on the surface they should have been at each other's throats! This is the wisdom of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit who brings the seemingly disparagent parties together in order to upend our presuppositions. 

Hate your enemy? No, love your enemy. Curse those who stone you? No, pray for those who stone you. Save your life? No, lose it in order to gain it. The Lord is a storehouse of paradox, and he also lives it out in who he calls to witness to him. 

You may be a trad warrior, or a traitorous defector for unhholy causes--but the Lord can remake you both. He may even call you to work together for the Kingdom, side by side, not just tolerating each other, but learning to love the way he loves--even when it is revolting to our political sensibilities and may stir a righteous indignation within us. 

But the Lord knows what He is about. He does not make mistakes. It is a great grace that He has called you to Himself. We are not meant to do the work on our own!

Ss. Simon, Jude, and Matthew...pray for us!

On Avoiding True Friends

One thing I receive periodically in the mail that I have grown to appreciate is a print edition of Sword & Spade, a publication of Fraternus, a Catholic apostolate dedicated to mentoring boys into virtuous Catholic men. Fraternus was founded by Jason Craig, who runs father/son retreats at his St. Joseph's Farm in South Carolina. My son is a couple years too young for the retreats, but I've connected with Jason a few times on the phone and he's a genuine guy who much prefers real life encounters and getting dirt under his finger nails to the mirage of social media presence.  

One of the articles in the magazine this month was "Talking At Each Other" by Tommy Killackey, who  touches on something important on the topic of friendship:

"Friendships of virtue, by contrast, require a much deeper commitment and investment than those of utility of pleasure. The facade of the screen might not just limit things like physical encounter, but it also helps us avoid the vulnerability required of true friendship. [Roger] Scruton [in Confessions of a Heretic] again helps us here:

"By placing a screen between yourself and the friend, while retaining ultimate control over what appears on that screen, you also hide from the real encounter--forbidding to the other the power and freedom to challenge you in your deeper nature and to call on you here and now to take responsibility for yourself and for him" (Scruton, 96).

Put simply, intimacy and control cannot coexist. Social media always renders us in complete control, and whether we choose to click, scroll, watch, reply, like, or close our tab, we individually always have the power within our fingertips. Scruton goes on to say, 

"Risk avoidance in human relations means the avoidance of accountability, the refusal to stand judged in another's eyes, to come face to face with another person, to live yourself in whatever measure to him or her, and so to run the risk of rejection" (Ibid, 108). 

We might call this Scruton's warning against the risk of avoiding risk. The "risky" friendships that "call us out of ourselves [to] take up our crosses" were not built online, nor could they exist there exclusively. We may still interact online, but the soul of virtuous friendship where we risk encountering another can only occur offline. 

Friendships of utility may exist on LinkedIn, friendships of pleasure may exist in double-tapping our friend's latest post on Instagram, but as long as we maintain perfect control over the encounter, we cannot truly share life, encounter, risk, accompany, and be with anyone behind a screen, full stop."

I think this is what I find social media so offensive: I value friendship so much, and online "friendships" are a kind of counterfeit for the reasons outlined above (that we may not even be cognizant of). Even in high school (before social media existed), before my conversion, I had such high regard for true friendships that never seemed to hit the mark, and always left me disappointed and disillusioned. As the author notes, "intimacy and control cannot coexist [and] social media always renders us in complete control." What we are left with, then, is utility but a lack of intimacy. And we wonder why we are such a lonely society. 

Say It With A Smile

At our bible study last week, one of the guys' wives made a delicious zucchini bread. Zucchini is one of those vegetables that's relatively easy to "hide and sneak" into a recipe without your kids being the wiser. Nobody's a big fan of vegetables, though we all know they are good for us and that we should eat them.

Hard truth can an unpalatable thing, difficult for many people to swallow. Perhaps on account of their blindness, trauma, or even social conditioning, people often reject obvious truths reflexively and before even considering its merits. 

As I have observed, it is often the unfortunate tendency of orthodox Catholics who love and live for Truth to adopt the same outrage reflex as the Left when it comes to things like heresy, hypocrisy, and societal dishonesty. Fr. James Martin tweets "pastoral" heretical garbage? Get up in arms. Twitter war started by the SJWs? Get the clubs, bro.

I once took issue with a friend over the place of "tone" in truth-telling and, by extension, evangelization. My friend was a big fan of the Timothy Gordons and the Fr. Altmans because they didn't mince words. I can't listen to these guys, even though they sometimes have the right message. My friend thought tone didn't matter; that is, how you say what you're saying shouldn't matter if what you are saying is true. I thought that was simplistic.  

Truth is, I think we were both kind of oversimplifying things. St. Augustine initially preferred Cicero to the dull sheen of the Christian scriptures because in his eyes the gospels lacked sophistication and rhetorical beauty. And yet, it is the Word that is the way, the truth, and the life (Jn 14:6). Its essence is not in its beautiful language or power of persuasion, but because it is the Truth itself. To my friend's credit, there is a place for the unpolished John the Baptists of the world, of whom there is none greater born of woman (Mt 11:11).

That being said, I still hold that there is a case for how one says something; ie, that tone matters. The old adage rings true here, I think: no one cares what you know until they know that you care. A stranger can quote all the bible verses and catechism at a person they want; if they person doesn't trust the messenger, however, it is likely that the ground is not fertile for the seed of faith to sprout. St. Paul did not write one blanket epistle to all the communities of believers irrespective of their cultural and religious context, but tailored each letter specific to that particular church. St. Damien did not endear himself to the lepers of Molokai simply because he was a priest, but because he showed genuine love and concern towards them, caring for them not in the abstract but in the wretched physicality of their illness. 

Those opposed to Truth, who are blinded to it, are conditioned to adopt a posture of resistance. The light has come into the world, but men prefer the darkness, as scripture says (Jn 3:19) It reminds me of one of Aesop's fables:

The North Wind and the Sun had a quarrel about which of them was the stronger. While they were disputing with much heat and bluster, a Traveler passed along the road wrapped in a cloak.

"Let us agree," said the Sun, "that he is the stronger who can strip that Traveler of his cloak."

"Very well," growled the North Wind, and at once sent a cold, howling blast against the Traveler.

With the first gust of wind the ends of the cloak whipped about the Traveler's body. But he immediately wrapped it closely around him, and the harder the Wind blew, the tighter he held it to him. The North Wind tore angrily at the cloak, but all his efforts were in vain.

Then the Sun began to shine. At first his beams were gentle, and in the pleasant warmth after the bitter cold of the North Wind, the Traveler unfastened his cloak and let it hang loosely from his shoulders. The Sun's rays grew warmer and warmer. The man took off his cap and mopped his brow. At last he became so heated that he pulled off his cloak, and, to escape the blazing sunshine, threw himself down in the welcome shade of a tree by the roadside.

Force-feeding zucchinis, even if it did work, tends to diminish the dignity of the person having it rammed down his or her throat. You can't make people love truth and beauty, but you can present it as something worthy of love. When an enemy of Truth is locked into a rigid, defensive stance of opposition, they are anticipating to lock arms in battle. It is an art of war, then, to flank their sensibilities where they least expect them as a way of disarming. When they are stunned and vulnerable, it is then that one moves in to lay the lethal blow. 

We are Christians, not mercenaries. We do battle first with ourselves, seeking to smother our own egos and selfishness in our cell with the pillow of virtue and mortification. Infused with the grace of faith, hope, and charity and having obtained a modicum of mastery of our own wily natures, we approach our enemies in self-defense, not active aggression. We heap coals upon their heads by opposing our lower natures and instincts--feeding them when they are hungry, giving them drink in thirst (Rom 12:20). In the face of aggression, we turn our cheek to take a blow on the other side. 

What does this look like practically, this "stun and gun" method of Truth-delivery? We must always speak the truth, but to sweeten the spoon we should do it...with a smile. 

We already know that our culture supports the "empty shell" (as Pope Benedict XVI said) of love without truth, which is filled with emotional influences which in the worst case can result in love turning into its opposite. "The individual who is animated by true charity labours skillfully to discover the causes of misery, to find the means to combat it, to overcome it resolutely" (Pope St. Paul VI, Populorum progressio, emphasis mine). 

Imagine an instance in which we are put on the spot in our place of work to affirm that, say, abortion is a kind of healthcare, or that one's sex is irrelevant to their personhood. We can refute their assertion with firmness but disarm them with the smile of charity. In doing so we imitate the Savior, whom Isaiah prophesized would 

"not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out" (Is 42:1-4). 

For those poised to fight, a smile is the last thing they expect to see. It is important that it is not a self-assured smirk or a insincere saccharine gesture. Our charity must bleed through the lips to stun and melt the hearts of our adversaries in that moment, to transmit that like our Savior, we have not come to condemn but to save. They may resent us for our presumption to claim to not only know the Truth but to possess it; they may spurn our outstretched hands extended from the lifeboat and choose in pride their own demise. They may hate us. 

And yet if we love them in that moment, and let our charity bleed through our eyes, lips, and hearts to communicate that love in that opportune moment of disarmament when they are most vulnerable, we may have the chance to win our brother. In this case, tone does matter because the tone is charity itself. Charity is not a force easily argued against. Because by its nature it is not composed of rhetoric or empty words, but indisputable action which flows through the current of grace. It proves itself, rests on its own two feet. "True virtue is not sad or disagreeable, but pleasantly cheerful" --St. Josemaria Escriva.

Love completely confounds its adversaries. It may not completely appease the mob. It may not keep us from getting strung up a tree. But if we can display our charity in a resolute smile during such attacks as a means of momentary disarmament, it may be enough to blind and confound so that we can slip in a letter of Truth in that moment. And once Truth takes hold in a soul, nourished by the light of grace and sprouting in the darkness, there is no telling the lies it will untie in the process. We may win our brother in the end. 

Undone with a smile.

  

The Proverbs 31 Conundrum

When we went to see A Hidden Life after it came out in the theaters, my wife said afterwards, "I feel like a wuss." She was referring to being 'soft' as a wife, seeing how hard Bl. Franz's wife Franziska's worked as part of their daily life as farm laborers. It seemed like every scene she was doing some kind of manual labor, working, being resourceful, often alongside her husband. Life was work. Leisure was an anomaly. 

Of course this was one hundred years ago in rural Austria. Franziska seemed to exemplify the Proverbs 31 wife, the "wife of noble character."

"She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for the task. She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. (Prov 31:15-18, 27)

In the scripture, none of this is for show only. The wife of noble character increases the bottom line of her family in tangible ways. She lets no moment waste--she is strong, resourceful, smart, profitable. 

Today, in 21st century America, I think our women are trying to figure out what it means to be a Proverbs 31 wife. Some weren't taught how to cook, and are learning. FemCatholics have adopted the sentiment to say it's okay to work. Traditional Catholic wives wear their aprons and tend to the children as their husband heads off to work. Some wives try to start some kind of home business selling essential oils or LuLuRoe or other multi-level marketing schemes (which exploit the vulnerabilities of homemakers) so they can contribute, or start a little garden to "feed their family." 

I know some women who married young and their identity is being a mom. They tend to their households and take pride in their roles but have no tangible skills that are employable in the workforce aside from minimum-wage unskilled work (retail, etc). 

We live in the tech-era, no longer an agrarian society. Anyone can cut wheat or milk cows, but how many families live in such a way today? Should a traditional wife even want to help her family financially, she finds herself stymied of how to actually do so. It's not for lack of desire.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend from India who works in supply-chain management, who told me recently in a conversation,

"Indians are conservative in morals and values (most dress modestly, have strong faith irrespective of the religion they practice, we look after our parents til they die in our homes), but believe in the value of work and independence. To be on your own feet."

When I asked her why that was, she replied,

"I think it's because we do not have Government handouts. No one will look after you if you don't look after yourself."

It's different for sure, I replied. Women working in the U.S. here has probably led to greater divorce, since they are no longer 'dependent' on their husbands.

"Ah yes," she replied. "The difference with us is, the money earned by the wife is still managed by the husband. He is still the leader of the family--currently India is like this. The husband makes the financial decisions most of the time. 

"There is a lot of wisdom in how we Indians have navigated the women contributing financially to the family. But with the onset of U.S. influence (TV shows, primarily) we are seeing an erosion of our values. 

"The working wife usually has her inlaws living in the same house. Usually, the mother in law (who would have retired from her own job) would help the daughter in law with the chores of the house and the grandkids when the wife has to go to work."

It was an interesting perspective outside my own culture as an American. Two main differences I saw--the lack of a societal safety net, and the commonness of multiple-family living in India. This is not common in American households today. Women are obviously in a bind--they can't necessarily work in an agrarian sense, and to leave the house to work often necessitates daycare, a difficult proposition. Some may live in areas where they have little family or community support, contributing to feelings of isolation. It would seem we don't live in a culture anymore that makes it very easy to live in a way more conducive to family life. I know my Distributist friends have been cognizant of this, and also critical of the breakdown of this possibility of family life where all worked together, as a result of Industrialization. 

It's a scary prospect, for a wife who has no real skills aside from homemaking, should something happen to her husband. It would imagine for such families it would make sense to have at least a $1M life insurance policy should anything happen to the husband so she does not have to work. 

Before anybody jumps down my throat, we all know wives who tend the home work the equivalent of 2-3 full time jobs. Their husbands often have it easier (in some ways) by going off to an office or whatever all day. 

I think the tech-heavy society we live in today makes it difficult for unskilled workers to eek out a living; many wives may be reticent to admit that their home lives are afforded by their husbands being successful members of this tech-class, and many working-outside-the-home wives may be reticent to admit that it is not an idea situation for homelife without the additional support of a live-in family member, as my friend in India noted. Perhaps the Proverbs 31 wife of noble character is a pragmatic composite portrait of the "ideal wife" and that no one woman would possess all these qualities. 

What then makes a Proverbs 31 wife? Is it unrealistic? Does it place unrealistic expectations on women as an unobtainable ideal? What does "work" look like for a 21st century American Christian wife and mother look like today? How does/can she contribute to her family so that her husband "has full confidence in her?" 

Lest You Die

 As I mentioned in previous posts, I've been spending some good time in Adoration recently. Nothing is more strange to modern sensibilities than laying prostrate before the appearance of a wafer, in silence, accomplishing nothing. A "waste of time," as they say.

We can only worship the Living God in this way because His face stays hidden from us.  “You cannot see My face; for no man shall see Me, and live” (Ex 33:20). Could you imagine if our electrical systems didn't have circuit breakers? We overload a fuse and it burns the the house to the ground, or experience instant cardiac arrest with live wires. Instead, in such an event, a circuit on the breaker box trips and breaks the circuit so that doesn't happen. 

God also withholds the horror of Hell to keep our hair from turning white. I imagine that were we to see it fully, we would be so gripped by fear that we would be unable to love. I don't know. For St. Lucia, her vision only lasted for a moment, "thanks to our good Heavenly Mother, Who at the first apparition had promised to take us to Heaven. Without that, I think that we would have died of terror and fear."

Were we to see God's glory in it's entirety, I would suspect we would be leveled by the greatness of the divide between our own sinfulness and God's goodness so much that it would take our breath away.  "If you kept an account of sin, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, therefore you are feared" (Ps 130:3). And yet, what we worship, we have the supreme privilege of taking into our very being in Communion. It's a wonder our vessels don't burst from the inside out. A testament to our imperfect faith and tepid hearts.

God comes to us in the guise of bread and wine so He doesn't paralyze us, constantly tripping the circuits of our finite minds, and allows us to live our lives capable of loving Him apart from fear. "I no longer fear God, but I love Him. For perfect love casts out fear,” as the great hermit St. Anthony wrote. 

We will die, make no mistake, and then "we will see God face to face." But until then we see through a lens darkly (1 Cor 13:12). 

Trending Traditionalism

 I know it's a cliche saying, but the only constant in the world is change. We are always responding and reacting to this or that thing, socially, politically, and in our daily lives. We rearrange furniture because we get tired of the way things are. We swing on the pendulum from a Republican led legislature to a Democratic one and back again perpetually. The Tytler Cycle shows we fall from impassioned patriots to spoiled bond servants in roughly 200 year cycles. 

The movement towards #minimalism and #livetiny was a reaction to the "McMansions culture" and "drowning in stuff" of the 1990's. Things like tiny houses on wheels and keeping only thirty things in your home which "spark joy."  Same with the FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early) of the Millennial generation, a reaction to their parent's narrative of "work at a job for forty years for the golden watch, then play golf in retirement after 65." Centrist ideas rarely go viral, so most people take things to extremes in reactionary fashion to get trending as a "movement." 

Think about Traditionalism as a "movement" for a moment. It's new (even though it's old), something undiscovered that is now gaining traction. It's gaining traction because of the abuses that went before it. I became Catholic in the 1990's when Beige Novus Ordo Catholicism was the only thing on the menu. Liturgical abuses and progressive softness was commonplace. Traditionalism wasn't even on my radar. Now it's out there. With figures like Dr. Peter Kwasniewski leading the charge for an unapologetic return to Tradition, it's not just old-guard traddie hold-outs you are seeing at your local TLM; it's young families, and former NOers taken with the momentum of "something happening" in the Church. Something pure. Something exciting. 

The Charismatic Renewal of the 80's, the Operation Rescue folks, the "Catholic Land Movement;" all movements are just reactions to what went before them. I tend to think Traditionalism is on more solid ground given the historical precedence (without the social media fanfare) but has the makings of a trending movement nonetheless. 

I have never considered myself a Traditionalist, even from the very beginning and despite attending the Traditional Latin Mass almost exclusively for the past three years. I felt no need to align myself it as a liturgical bloc, though I was deeply grateful for robust, healthy, historically-rooted worship. The veils, the ankle-length dresses, the cliques were just kind of window dressing--nice (and sometimes off putting) but not necessary. I wouldn't walk out of a Novus Ordo Mass in protest, but it wasn't my preference. I consider myself a kind of Centrist in this regard: for the best part of Tradition, and happy to leave what isn't fruitful or helpful. 

I think there is room in Tradition for people like me. The TLM is edifying, but it's not a silver bullet either. There is a kind of safety in the rubrics to keep liturgical abuse at bay, but holiness is not reserved for those who only attend the TLM. Would there be such renewed interest in something so ancient, so "new" were it not for the wonky liturgy and abuses present in the Novus Ordo (which are largely absent in the TLM)? Will those in the Traditional Movement take it too far at some point, and cause a backlash in the way those attracted to Tradition were drawn to it because of the dissatisfaction with progressivism in the Church.  

Are these the early years of yet another movement which we will look back on ten years from now and think "those were the days when we were young and full of ideals?" What will be the downfall of Tradition moving forward--bad apples ruining the bunch? Things getting ordinary and stale when the veneer of freshness and excitement has worn off? Will people be continually pushed to the fringes, but a "middle-way" carved out for ordinary Catholics in the process that respects traditional worship but isn't defined or limited by it? Is Traditionalism just another "thing?" 

I maintain that it is Tradition and Charity which will renew the Church. Time will tell I suppose. In the meantime, let us get our hearts right with God, so we may worship the Lord in spirit and truth (Jn 4:24). Let us stand fast and hold the traditions which we have learned, whether by word of mouth or letter (2 Thes 2:15). 

Marriage: A Life Sentence

 It is strange that we have forgotten in the modern era that the very nature of marriage, it's essence, is that is is meant for life. Marriage is a primordial good. It is contractual from a civil standpoint, but from a sacramental standpoint, it is more than that; it is a covenant. Modern man tends to think today that, like other obligations, marriage should be temporal with built in exit-clauses when his sensibilities are violated. But this is not marriage. Sacramental marriage is a lifelong commitment, and as such is indissoluble.  

And yet for many younger people approaching the dawn of marrying age, a large percentage of whom have come from divorced parents, the concept of marrying and being with the same person for forty, fifty, sixty years seems like the stuff of fantasy. Impossible. Much like the attainment of sainthood. 

Christ elevated matrimony to the dignity of a sacrament--an outward sign, instituted by Christ, to confer grace. This sacrament bestows upon the spouses the grace necessary to attain holiness and to accept the gift of children. Married people work out their salvation in fear and trembling in their respective state of life--that is, the married state.

By virtue of the sacrament, they are given everything they need to remain married til death and attain the crown of sanctity in the next life. Marriage is their proving ground where the faculty of the will is ground down and exercised every day, sometimes through clenched teeth. It is the school in which Christian spouses learn how to carry out their vocation, which is to love. 

The tenuous prospect for many people is how to trust and put their faith in someone else with the future. Will they be betrayed? Will they leave? Will they be faithful? How can they trust them with their finances, their future, their heart? This can be especially hard for people with control issues who are used to being in charge of their own lives. It does require faith--not just faith in God, who provides the grace, but faith in the vows, faith in the person you are pledging your fidelity to. You can't hold tight to your own life while entering into a life with someone else. You have to loosen your grip enough to be able to trust, because trust is the incubator for love.

Lifelong love and fidelity does not have to be an unrealistic fairy tale. What helps is seeing it lived out by others, that is, the Church. No marriage is perfect; all marriages are full of human defects and minor (and sometimes major) betrayals, selfishness, coldness. 

But what do the fruit of such marriages--the children--see when they look up for reassurance? If they see the rootedness of permanence, that each parent will stick it out through thick and thin and honor their vows, it goes a long way. Children desperately want to believe in lifelong fidelity and commitment, but have been fed by way of example and denigrated language that this is a fantasy. 

Faith in the ability for a man and woman to honor their vows is no more a fantasy then remaining steadfast on the Cross as Jesus did. It is no more a fantasy than faith in God, which transcends cold, logical reasoning. Lifelong fidelity is possible without a marriage being sacramental, much in the same way we can know God to an extent by the light of human reason. But the sacramental grace necessary to endure during the inevitable trials of marriage is indispensable, the way oil is needed for an engine to go hundreds of thousands of miles. 

Part of the downfall of modern man is the built in escape clauses he accepts--if one does not want children, go on the Pill. If one does not have the money for something, put it on credit. If one does not feel like attending Mass, he is not obligated. And if the luster of a marriage has worn off, there is always divorce to offer a way out. 

Nothing of worth is gained without endurance, and merit is never gained apart from grace. "Marriage is a dual to the death, which no man of honor should decline," as Chesterton said. Christ is faithful to his children--we, likewise, are called to be faithful to our spouses and our vows, and exercise our gritty will to actualize it. In his love and desire to see us endure to death, He will give us the grace to do so. And no man of honor should decline it.

Recipe For A Fruitful Retreat

 As a married father of three, it can sometimes feel like a guilty luxury to get away to attend to your spiritual needs. If anyone asks me how I manage it, my answer is always the same: "I have an awesome wife." Much like in a marriage, the months and years can go by and your spiritual landscaping needs weeding, pruning, and attention. Anyone who has been married for more than a few years knows a periodic "date night" does a marriage good. The same kind of intentional time set aside for one's lover equally applies to our relationship with the Lord. Especially when you are called to lead your family as the spiritual head of house.

The truth is, it has been at least a few years since I have had any kind of retreat. The fact that men even feel compelled to "go up a mountain" to "find God" is almost offensive to women running a household who feel they don't even have two seconds to themselves to go to the bathroom in peace. Nevertheless, we see our Lord in scripture doing just this, "And having dismissed the multitude, he went into a mountain alone to pray. And when it was evening, he was there alone" (Mt 14:23). He also regards the "better portion" as belonging to Mary, who eschews her sister Martha's preoccupation with doing in order to sit at the feet of Jesus in contemplation (Lk 10:38-42).  Whereas busy mothers may be compelled by necessity to find God in the everyday tasks before them, fathers may equally feel pushed to go out alone to tend to their spiritual garden, especially when it has become overgrown with weeds and brush.

Thankfully, I had such an opportunity to disconnect and spend some intentional time in silence, solitude, and prayer for the past few days at a hermitage upstate. I had a small cabin to myself with electricity and an outhouse but no running water. There was no formal schedule, as it was not a guided retreat, but there was the opportunity for Mass and Adoration at the chapel with the four friars who lived on site, and a few other guests. It was time well spent, and I would encourage anyone interested in deepening their prayer and spiritual life to find a monastery or retreat center to get away once a year if possible. It also helps the religious communities with their monetary needs when you patronize them in this way. 

What makes for a fruitful retreat? I'm no expert, but from this experience and past ones, a few qualities which came to mind that I thought I would expound upon for anyone else looking to "go alone to a quiet place and rest awhile" (Mk 6:31).

Nature

There was something very therapeutic about being in nature the past few days--the rolling woodland and ponds, the gravel paths, the expansive night sky, and the falling leaves which were changing color majestically as Fall was getting underway. Maybe it is because I first experienced God in the natural environment prior to my conversion, so it feels like a honeymoon or sorts. Or maybe it is that nature is bigger than us and inspires a kind of fear and awe that mirrors how we should feel before our Creator. There is a reason why most contemplative communities are removed from the bustling streets of urban areas. Regardless, the natural environment lends itself to contemplation, well, naturally.  "When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" (Ps 8:3-4, 9). 

Silence

I found the past few days a good opportunity to re-read Cardinal Sarah's The Power Of Silence while in my cabin. The subtitle says it all: Against The Dictatorship of Noise. "Today," he writes, "many people are drunk of speaking, always agitated, incapable of silence or respect for others...the conquest of silence has the bitter taste of ascetical battles, but God willed this combat, which is within the reach of human effort."

It is amazing when you stop to think of it how little silence we experience in our daily life. When I used to live in the inner city and would take the neighborhood boys camping, away from the gang and drug-fueled streets of the city, they were not only not used to the silence of nature, but intimidated and frightened by it. Even for myself, often the only time I typically experience silence is driving to work, or settling in for bed. "Keeping quiet by mastering one's lips and tongue is a difficult, blazing, and arid work," Cardinal Sarah exhorts the man of God. He is one hundred percent correct. Undertaking this retreat was intimidating in some ways, because I have grown so attached to the noise and dings of my daily life that silence has become an unnerving and intimidating stranger I needed to get reacquainted with. Which brings me to my next point.

Detachment

One of the first challenges in this "difficult, blazing, and arid work" of entering into more fruitful contemplation was burying my phone somewhere. I am as guilty as the next man of being too habitually accustomed to responding like one of Pavlov's dogs to every ding and vibration emanating from this near-appendage instinctual. Without a doubt, it is one of my biggest challenges in modern life. 

So I made a conscious choice to turn it off and lock it in my car for the duration of my retreat. Our devices have become like the modern-day trifles which command our attention which St. Augustine describes in Confessions, "the very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and whispered softly, Do you part with us? And from that moment shall we no more be with you for ever? And from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for you for ever?'" (Confessions, VIII, 26)

And what was the result? Well, for one thing, I slept unbelievably soundly. And I didn't really miss that much--no emergencies, a few emails and notifications, some texts that could wait. It was a good practice (one I hope to continue). I even had to pick up a wristwatch on the drive there to keep time with, and I ended up really liking having it on my wrist! St. John of the Cross noted that a bird is tethered to the earth whether with a small string or with a large rope (Ascent, Chapter 11, #4). In essence, any attachment, no matter how small, will hinder our flight to God and so we must actively work on detachment. We attach to such things because we feel God is not enough. Of course, this is a lie from the Enemy meant to keep us tethered to this earth and the things of it. The reality is that "friendship with the world is enmity with God" (James 4:4).

Simplicity

Our lives, even the most impoverished of people, are generally lives replete with unrecognized luxuries. Indoor plumbing, hot water on demand, grocery stores, internet and television sets...the list goes on. I find that a retreat is often an opportunity to simplify and escape this common luxury of the senses. In stripping it down as a kind of novelty, we discover that much of what we think we need to exist is superfluous and unnecessary. There is a reason #minimalism is a strongly trending keyword these days; people are drowning in the complicated mountains of products and experiences they have ensconced themselves in, and desire an escape. In the natural environment, in silence, in detachment, we find a simplicity of the senses which is as refreshing as a cool spring. We don't need much to live--simple food to eat and water to drink, books to read, a place to sleep. Everything else we can enjoy for free from God's hand. "So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Mt 6:31-33).

Schedule

Having a set daily schedule can be a helpful method of structuring one's day when most of the superfluous  distractions have been stripped away. Rising early and making a morning offering, reading the scripture for the day, attending Mass, reciting the Angelus, the Liturgy of the Hours, and an examination of conscience before bed are good general ways to structure one's day either while on retreat or even in the midst of daily life in the world. It helps us from lounging around and falling into sloth, as Solomon writes, "How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep?" (Prov 6:9) This takes some discipline, but no one's spiritual life is worth anything without discipline in any case. So any opportunity to live it out, take advantage of it. 

Direction

Good spiritual direction is not always easy to come by; sometimes a good confession and reading orthodox, generalized spiritual books are as close as you are going to get. Having suffered under malignant spiritual direction in the past, I would rather at this point have no spiritual director than one that is suspect. But regardless, if spiritual direction is available to you as part of a guided retreat, take advantage of it. 

Prayer

It should go without saying, but prayer--our lifeline to God--should be at the heart of any spiritual retreat. As St. Alphonsus' warning of this spiritual priority is succinct: "If you pray, you will be certainly saved; if you do not pray, you will be certainly damned." Whether it is formal prayer from a breviary, the rhythm of the monastic Hours, quiet contemplation or Adoration, a walking rosary, or reading Scripture, there is no shortage of opportunities to pray while on retreat. It is the raison d'etre of any Catholic "time away." 

We deepen our relationship with God through prayer, and improve our prayer lives by stripping away the things that prevent us from undertaking it. It doesn't have to be monumentous or heroic. If anything, is a kind of "mountaintop" experience that we are not meant to stay in. In being afforded the "luxury" of retreat, we are really being charged as missionary disciples of the Lord Jesus. We must become "contemplatives in action," taking what we have learned under the tutelage of Silence and bringing it back to a world which so desperately needs peace and solace in its midst. 

Like I said, I'm thankful for the time away to "honeymoon" with the Lord, even if it was only a few days. The natural setting, the silence, the opportunity to detach and simplify, living by a schedule under spiritual direction, and deepening my prayer life were all highly beneficial and I would recommend to anyone able to undertake it. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take the garbage out, pick up dinner, and basically make up for the time I was away. Happy wife, happy life!

Consummation

 It has always amazed me how sometimes the most miraculous things in life can be the most commonplace. Women have been giving birth and having babies since the beginning of time; there's literally nothing more commonplace. And yet every time I think about all the things that have to come together for a baby to be born into the world, and all the things that can go wrong, I tremble and sigh with awe. God is truly the sovereign Lord of the universe. 

What leads to babies being born? Well, ideally, marriage is the ball that gets things rolling first. Again, I kind of marvel when meditating on the mystery of the wedding feast at Cana (yes, I do pray the Luminous Mysteries) that God Himself in the person of Jesus not only stooped down to become one of us in the incarnation, but actually cares about our lives so much he would accept an invitation to a communal wedding celebration as a guest.

Of course, as most Catholics with even a rudimentary understanding of Jewish custom and tradition know, weddings were not a three hour affair at the local country club and then you go home. They were week-long affairs; at Cana, the celebration was replete with 120-180 gallons of wine in large stone vessels to keep everyone supplied and jovial. This is a overwhelmingly human affair, Jesus the God who became man enters into that affair to be with us. 

Think of how modern men and women plagirize what is meant to be reserved and holy today: we meet, find a few things in common, hook up, and work backwards essentially. We move in together--there is no communal sanctioning or celebration in such an event, just a pragmatic, sloppy slide into cobbling a tenuous life together. We may or may not get married eventually, but even if we did there is nothing 'virgin' about that first night together as husband and wife, nothing mystical--just another day of carnal exchange which now happens to be bound by a legal contract. 

In many ways, this sloppy slide plays out in the ekklesia in the careless, common shuffle for Communion, and our profane attitude reflected in it. We wear common clothes, and do not prepare our bodies and our hearts for what we are about to receive. "They have put no difference between the holy and profane" (Ez 22:26). If we the church are the bride, and Christ the Bridegroom, each encounter in receiving Communion is a sacred consummation. He gives us his flesh which we take into ourselves. Just as in an earthly marriage and what is requires, this marriage between Christ and his people (the church) is not a valid marriage unless it is consummated. "Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you" (Jn 6:53).  

This spiritual consummation is not a one-and-done encounter, but weekly, sometimes daily. Just as the sexual act between spouses gives rise to life within us (cf Jn 6:53) and deepens the love between spouses, so too does frequent reception of the Eucharist leads to spiritual life and a deeper love between man and Christ. Just as in our counterfeit offerings of our bodies to another to whom we are not betrothed we profane the temple of the Holy Spirit, so to do we profane and "eat and drink condemnation upon ourselves" when we enter into this consummation unworthily. 

The bridal chamber where the consummation takes place (chuppah) is the place of intense and ecstatic intimacy (knowing) between bridegroom and bride. On this climactic night, the Bridegroom is escorted by the "sons of the bride chamber" (Greek--huioi tou nymphonos)--that is, his closest confidants (the apostles, and those who stand in succession to them)--to the chuppah. And it is we, his bride, who are called into the chamber to experience this consummation, in which He gives us His flesh to partake in.

There is a reason Yahweh speaks of Israel as his bride to whom He has married (Jer 3:14). There is a reason the Song of Songs paints such a sensual, fleshly portrait of intimacy with the Lover. There is a reason St. Paul speaks of the relationship between Christ and His Church as that of the love and submission between husband and wife (Ephesians 5). 

Marriage is more than a contract, more than an agreement which can be broken. It's validity, it's lifeblood, the ratifying of the contract depends upon consummation--a fusion of flesh, and this is the nature of Eucharistic communion. In it we partake in the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. It is not for everyone, because it is not profane or common, but exclusive to those disposed towards its worthy reception. In it we become one bread, one body, one spirit. One cannot get any closer to the presence of the Lord than during this moment when we become One Flesh with the Bridegroom Himself. It is a moment of profound privilege and intimacy reserved for those who are called to His chamber. We do not "think and speculate" in this moment about the Lord. We TASTE AND SEE the goodness of the Lord (Ps 34:8).

Satan has his work cut out for him in the perversion and debasement of the sexual act during his reign here on earth. But he does it, why? Because in deforming the meaning and act of sex as properly understood, he can obscure our understanding of true spiritual consummation--what it means to eat the flesh of the Son of Man! If we don't understand what sex is and what it is for, our telos is reduced to a temporal, sterile, material act of self-fulfillment rather than an eternal, fruitful, profoundly spiritual act of self-abandonment. And if we don't know what committed, chaste, fruitful, selfless sexual intimacy is, is it any wonder we have adopted such a casual, profane, and presumptuous posture in the Communion line?

Just as I find it a marvel that the most profound miracles in this world--like the birth of a baby or the love between a man and a woman--are so common to human experience, so to that the Son of God enters into our existence so sensuously in Holy Communion, that we are commanded to feed (literally, gnaw in Greek: trogo, τρώγω) on Him to generate new life in our spirit. Almost profane verbiage, yes? An intimacy that was once otherwise unthinkable and unattainable has become the most profound miracle this side of Heaven. For the man who knows he is not called to fast while the Bridegroom is with him, who experiences this consummation in Holy Communion, the seemingly revolting and profane has become holy. 

Den of Thieves

Digging around the archives from one of my old blogs, I found this entry I wrote from Bangkok in 2007. Thankful to my guardian angel this sketchy situation didn't go south. I share it here for story-telling and entertainment purposes only. Enjoy your Saturday, and I hope to write more after returning from retreat next week.

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

While shopping in Chinatown one afternoon I bumped into a Filipino man on the street who was very excited to meet an American. He introduced himself as Nicky and said he was living with his brother, who owned an apartment in Bangkok, while he was stationed in Thailand. He said his daughter was with him also. When he asked where I was from and I said Philadelphia, he was very excited--his daughter had just finished nursing school and was getting ready to go the United States to work in a hospital there, though he couldn't remember which one. 

We went across the street and he bought me a drink. He asked me questions about Philadelphia and how much I paid for my apartment and would I be willing to meet with her so she could ask me questions. I said I would, but it would have to be this afternoon because I fly out the next morning. So we took a cab to another part of the city. "It is no coincidence that we met," he assured me. 

His brother's apartment was in a nice section of the city on the outskirts of Chinatown. When we arrived a beautiful young Thai servant girl opened the door for us. Nicky told the servant girl to get me ice water and coffee, and he invited me to take a seat on the leather couch. By Thai standards, the apartment was somewhat luxurious, with polished wooden floors, bi-level with a driveway, and, of course, a servent girl.

Nicky yelled to his brother upstairs. "He is very funny," he assured me. He shook my hand warmly, introducing himself as Milo, and offered me a cigarette. He said that I would have to forgive him, but his wife had just gone into labor today. Nicky's daughter and Milo's son were at the hospital with her, though Nicky assured me they would be back soon. 

In the meantime, Milo talked about his work at the "shipyard." At first I thought he worked for the Navy like his brother, but then it became clearer that he actually worked in a casino on a cruise ship (he had a picture of the ship hanging on the wall). He asked me if I had ever been to Las Vegas. "A lot of money in casinos. I get you a discount." 

I wasn't following him, since at one point he was talking about discounted vacation packages or something he could give to "VIP's." He was eager to show me what he did for a living, and suggested we play cards while waiting for his niece to return. We went upstairs to a room with a table and Milo invited me to sit. He started to explain to me how the business worked by drawing a map of the casino floor. 

"This," he explained by drawing a series of slashes, "is where the regular players play. But because you are with me, you do not play here. You play in V-I-P section. In VIP section, you play banker, just you." He drew a smaller square to represent the VIP room with a small opening for a door. "I have a guy watching the door, so no one come in, since it VIP only." 

--------------------------BANKER--------- 

| | 

| DEALER 

| | 

| | PLAYER | 

|__________________________| 

"But, you must understand, I can only give you twenty-five percent, since you are my guest. Seventy-five percent is for my 'company.' You understand?" I didn't quite understand. But I thought I'd take that cigarette after all, because it was starting to feel a little Tony Soprano up here. I nodded. 

"So, you know how to play this game?" I thought he was talking about poker but it turns out he was referring to blackjack. When I figured it out, I said 'yes,' since I did. 

"Okay," he said, pointing to the map of the casino floor. "When you play VIP, there are rules. But Player has no rules; only Banker has rules. You the Player. You understand?" I understood. 

He turned over the map and began to write. "For Banker, if cards 12, 13, 14, 15, or 16, they must draw. If 17, 18, 19, 20, they cannot draw. You understand?" Okay, yes, I think so. We practiced a few hands--some I won, some I lost. Milo said this was playing 'chance'--you might win, you might not win, but you don't know. 

There were other things too: Banker was always dealt one card up; Player's down. United States rules face cards all value 10. Etc. Milo stubbed out his cigarette and yelled to Nicky to bring up his coffee. He then went over to a drawer and took out a set of chips. 

"There are two kinds of betting for you," he explained: "winning-hand bet, and losing-hand bet. Winning hand bet you bet when you know you are going to win. Losing hand bet you bet when you know the other person is going to lose." The emphasis here was on the word know. He leaned in and asked me straight-faced: "Remember, you are playing with my money--do you want to play a game of chance, or do you want to play a game of skill?" Ummm... 

"Skill," I said. A big smile broke on his face and he extended his hand. "Very good. Now, let me show you how to play a game of skill." 

By this point I had a pretty good idea of what was going on but was to deep in to get out of it easily. I was starting to feel the need to take a shower; despite the sparkling floors and lush decor, things were beginning to feel grimy, like the soot settling over towns like Pittsburgh as a result of booming industrialization. But I continued to play along. 

"If you want to know what card I have, how you think to get it from me?" Milo asks. Umm... 

"Blinking?" 

He reacts as if it was a mistranslation, even though he was sure of what I said. "No," he said. "And you do not pull your ear like in football coach." Got it. 

"You see my fingers?" He started to count off from his pinky: "2,2,2,2...and thumb is 1. My whole fist is 10." So, if I have this many fingers on table," placing four fingers, "how many is that?" Umm... 

"Eight." 

Again, a pleased smile and warm handshake. In a naive way it did kind of make me feel proud, like I could be the next Blackjack Kid of the Thai Shark circuit. 

I was learning to cheat. It was innocent enough to learn, I suppose. The more he spoke about it, the more curious I was. But like all the bastard tuk-tuk drivers and hawkers on the street, I started to wonder what lies beneath the surface of the game. 

"Now you look," he said, while picking up the deck to deal. "What card I show you?" 

I must have missed it, because I didn't know what he was talking about. He looked disappointed. He picked up the deck to deal again, this time poking the top card out a half inch and flashing it with a quick snap of the wrist. 

"Six." 

"Very good," he said. At that point his phone rang. It was an English speaking man whom Milo seemed to be familiar with, asking if he could come by to pick up his "pass." 

"That was Mr. ____," Milo told me, showing me the personalized VIP invitation card with the man's name on it. "He is already rich. But he come still because as I tell you, you can make very much money as my guest at the casino--V.I.P." 

I was getting tired of these shenanigans. It was becoming more and more apparent that there might not be any daughter traveling to America, no wife in labor. This guy had already wasted enough of my last afternoon in Thailand. 

"Now, when Mr. ____ comes, we will play a game. Nicky will play Mr. ___; you just watch." It was like when Christopher was becoming a made-man in the Sopranos. Except that I didn't want to be made into anything--especially a professional sheister. 

Despite Milo's sharp pitch and confident persona, there was a crack in his front just big enough to reveal an inner poverty, despite his polished floors and servant girl--it wavered behind his eyes. I'd never met a tax collector before, but I imagined if St. Matthew came back to life, this is what he would be like. Not lust, not pride--the love of money was the nail that needed to be let fall to the floor in order to be free. I imagine Jesus just looked at him, and that was enough. 

"No, I think I'm going to get going, thank you," I told him. 

"No, no, you just watch," he assured me. 

"No," I said, "I'm going to go." 

He could not understand how I could turn down something that promised so much for so little. "Why you don't want to stay?" he asked. 

I looked him in the eyes, confident for the first time in our interaction. "Because I don't want to." 

His eyes lowered to the table, but he made a second attempt to persuade me. I responded the same. 

The tables had turned a bit and I found myself with some power I didn't really care to have when he saw I meant what I said, and why I was saying it. In a apologetic, but groveling kind of way he asked me not to tell anyone of his 'top secret' operation, since he could lose his job. I assured him I had no interest in doing so, and we went downstairs. 

I asked Nicky to call me a cab, which he did. An awkward few minutes ensued while waiting. To add hurt to insult, they asked if I could help them with some money for blood, since Milo's wife was having a C-section at a private hospital. "Lots of money." Money. He asked for 1,000baht. I thought about the beggars with no legs I passed in the street asking for pennies. Disgusted, I gave them 160B and left. 

On the ride back to Bangalampoo I stared out the window at the golden bridge over the river, the saangthews choking on the street and ferry boats on the shore, Bangkok in the evening and a settling sadness. I felt like something had been taken from me unfairly. But I also felt like I should have stood up taller, said something more. In the reflection of the window, I stared at my own eyes and saw Milo's eyes looking back, from the outside.

"There's No Such Thing As 'Built To Last'"

 

When we moved into our present home, one of the first minor upgrades I did was to replace all the incandescent bulbs in the house with Cree LED bulbs. PECO was offering a rebate which significantly brought down the cost, and I knew with my wife and kids' propensity to basically never turn off lights, the payback would be relatively short. Cree was one of the first makers of LED bulbs, and the ones I bought had a whopping rated 25 year life span, while running at a fraction of the wattage of a traditional 60w incandescent. Seven years later, the bulbs are still going strong, and our electric bill ranges from $65/month in milder seasons to $120/month or so for a few months in Summer when the AC is going.

I'm not usually an adopter of earlier technology, but in this case, it made sense to. Cree makes a great lightbulb, but as a business strategy, they are setting themselves up to be company losers. Giles Slade, in his book “Made to Break,” traces the term “planned obsolescence” to a 1932 pamphlet, circulated in New York, titled “Ending the Depression through Planned Obsolescence.” The term gained currency in 1936, through a similarly themed essay in Printer’s Ink, “Outmoded Durability: If Merchandise Does Not Wear Out Faster, Factories Will Be Idle, People Unemployed.” The basic idea is if you make products to last, your business may not, because people will not be replacing them. There's an article on the topic at the New Yorker (which also showcases the mysterious "Centennial bulb" that has been on and burning since the early 1900's in England) here.

I've noticed in recent trips to Home Depot that the LEDs on the shelf now have a significantly shorter life span quoted on the packaging--something like three to seven years, a far cry from the 25 year lifespan of a Cree bulb. Most people don't give it a second thought to go out and buy a new lightbulb when one burns out after a couple years (for a history into this, see Phoebus cartel). When I scan the free ads on Craiglist, I also see a mountain of "Free scrap" ads of shiny looking newer washers and dryers with bells and whistles that are a few years old out to trash because something stopped working and it was too expensive to repair. I made sure when our current washer conked out recently after 20 years of service, to find an older used Maytag on Craigslist that was built to last. I found one for $50 (vs $500+ for a new washer) with a manual timer, hooked it up and it's been a workhorse. Planned Obsolesce in action.

There are also a lot of new construction houses going up in our area. It blows my mind how quickly some of these houses go up. 2x4 studs and plywood. They look nice from the outside, but as to longevity only time will tell. My suspicion is they will not age gracefully, since they seem to have flashy 'luxury' features but cheap-out on material quality. My father in law had a pipe leak somewhere in his condo and the plumber that came out said if they would have spent another $.50 on a higher quality fitting when constructing the place, it wouldn't have leaked. As another example, you can see that even new-growth timber is vastly weaker and inferior to old-growth timber used in construction 50-100 years ago. Our brick home was built in the 1950's and with newer plumbing and electrical, I feel like we have the best of both worlds. Men were genuine craftsmen during those eras, and took pride in their labor and the quality of their work.

I think there is something to this planned obsolesce. If we used some kind of composite in our roadways that eliminated potholes and cracking, these DOT roadcrews would be out of work. I remember the Phila Plumbers Teamsters fighting hard against the proposal for waterless urinals at the Comcast center downtown because, well, there would be nothing to work on in regards to maintenance. You get the idea.

One could say some of these newer evangelical "non-denominational" megachurches are like new construction. They are appealing from the outside ("Fellowship! REAL Relationship! KidzZone! Coffee bar!"). But will they stand the test of time, to weather modernity and all its empty promises of "progress?" They are the IKEA of churches, made from particleboard and dowels. I touched on this in What's Old Is New. 

The Catholic Church, by contrast, is that kind of solid cherry dovetailed-joint dresser your grandmother owned for a hundred years that none of the grandchildren want because its not disposable and minimalist. So it gets put out to the curb, or sold for pennies on the dollar. One of these days, people will miss these kinds of pieces, and say "they don't make them like they used to" while not giving it a second thought of buying new furniture every few years because their particleboard bedroom set has fallen apart. The Church that Jesus founded, even with all its problems, was built to last. 

Even the physical structures that were built in the 1800's, with their ornate detail and craftsmanship...we wouldn't be able to afford to build something like that today! Cheap labor and cheap materials and cutting corners doesn't give us magnificent churches and cathedrals. Same for our faith lives. That's why we shouldn't fetishize Tradition, or relativize it, but recognize it's value as something that was, in fact, built to outlast the storms of modernity.

I can't help but think the plan all along for our government is to make us more and more dependent on the federal teet, a direct contradiction to the spirit of our country's founding by way of self-governance, liberty, and virtue. It's a kind of 'planned obsolesce' in it's own right. Because you can't make money off of free men and you can't control them; and that's a scary thing for the overlords to come to terms with. 

A Needed Reset

Praise be Jesus Christ. I have been feeling the need to disconnect and have some intentional, 'unplugged' time away to refocus and renew my spiritual life in solitude. Solitude is more of a challenge than a respite, and always has been. But like eating one's vegetables or exercising, I think it good practice to enter into that discomfort for a time to reset. 

A priest friend suggested a hermitage in New York state he spent time at a few years ago. I was grateful he suggested it, as I had no idea it existed. There are only three friars on the remote property. There are a handful of individual hermitages, no running water, outhouses, and you have to chop wood for heat and bring your own food. I hope to lock my phone in the car, and bring a notebook, Bible, and a few spiritual books. I will be there for a few days early next week. Please pray for me that it is a fruitful time of renewal that is not wasted, and pray for my family as well while I am gone. Also, I would appreciate in the comments books you find edifying, or you can contact me via the contact form as well. This is why I am publishing this post now to solicit these titles. 

Thank you, and God bless you.

An Open Letter To Steve Skojec

*Note, I do not know Steve in real life, and have only corresponded with him by email as it related to my articles that were published by him when he ran One Peter Five. This is not a hit-piece but a letter of fraternal concern that I don't expect him to ever receive or respond to. It's mostly for my benefit to get it off my chest and for the benefit of the readers here.

Dear Steve,

Although I don't have a Twitter account, you are the only figure I follow on the platform. I find a good number of the things you post to be interesting, eclectic, and off the beaten path of usual commentary. I also appreciate that you have a skeptic's mind (though I imagine this may be a bit of a cross as well) and challenge existing narratives both inside and outside the Church by looking at things from other angles. I also check in on your Substack to get a different perspective on Church matters outside the tribal narrative.

There are times I want to comment and I have even entertained the idea of opening up a Twitter account to do so. But seeing the nature of the platform, and what it has done to a number of otherwise good and healthy, balanced people, I decided it wasn't worth the cost to one's psyche. My blog is really my only medium of communication these days. Which is why I'm writing here.

We are roughly around the same age, have probably been writing for the same amount of time, and came into the Church from different entrances and dealt with our own forms of trauma over the years. I admired your undertaking of starting 1P5, though I think I expressed to you by email a few years ago that it may be your personal undoing. I don't fault you for that--I wouldn't have wanted your job. I tried to contribute as I could with a handful of articles, because even if you weren't completely on board with the preservation of Catholic tradition near the end of your tenure, many people who read 1P5 were. It was an exciting time, but as often happens, there is always that threat of disillusionment in the end.

Truth be told, I always wanted to have a bourbon with you (I think I tried to put it out there to get together when I was in Phoenix last year, but you never responded), but you seemed to have a wall up where you were more comfortable behind a screen and kept a short list of IRL interactions. I don't fault you for that. I imagine you may be dealing with the fallout from your announcements in "Crippled Religion"  of distancing yourself from the Church and may be regarded in some circles as a social pariah. I'm not here to judge you. Part of me even saw this coming and wish I could have warned you in some way more than I did. Like a car crash happening in slow motion that you're powerless to stop.

I see you as a very intelligent, inquisitive, and self-reflective person. From my limited vantage point on Twitter and Facebook (when I was on it), there seems to be a wound somewhere deep that reflectively shoots down anyone trying to reach out and help and/or encourage you to keep the faith. In all honesty, with the number of followers you have, the curt responses don't surprise me. It can be tiresome to deal with the "You don't leave Jesus because of Judas" pat responses to what I'm sure you regard as a true crisis of faith and unbelief. It also comes from complete strangers on the internet, so the currency rate of the comments is proportionate. 

The one thing I think you are honest about is that you are no model of anything, whether in faith or life, that should be emulated. I'll concur with that, and there's some benefit there: we shouldn't be putting people on pedestals. I've been hurt a number of time by people I put stock in, only to see them lose faith or leave the Church or defect in other ways. Joseph Sciambra was one man who kind of broke my heart in that way, though I don't fault him for it. It is a tough time of battle for all of us, and we shouldn't be surprised by such things in the end. 

I found you to be adept at the things of life, but you seemed to have an arterial blockage to the heart with regards to the things of the spirit. It was as if you could only see the darker sides, the doubt, the human error, and it threatened to consume you. I kind of backed up at that point in the event the black hole bleeding out would swallow my own faith as well should I follow you any further. 

Though I found you to be an honest inquisitor, the lack of charity could be abrasive at times. You admitted to dealing with issues of anger in your life; that is not my issue, but I'm sure it's no peach to deal with. You tended to shoot people down, which I guess is just what you're forced into on platforms like Twitter and Facebook, in the interest of time. You wouldn't be alone or unique in that sense. I've also found you critical of things that other people hold close to them--the teachings of certain saints, for example. Again, it's your platform. I don't think anyone is holding you up as a model of faith or virtue. And I'm sure it's hard to divest yourself of the decades or belief and involvement in this kind of ecclesial community, both in person and online.  

I'm not going to offer platitudes with regards to the Church. I'm sure you've dealt with a lot of betrayal and deception that can be hard to walk back from. Maybe I don't have as much baggage as you, or maybe I'm just more naïve. My spiritual:human ratio can be skewed towards seeing behind the veil more these days, so I don't get as bogged down with the human error within the Church and outside of it. 

If I had any advice for you (not that you asked for it), it would just be used your new found time away from 1P5 to sit in Adoration before the Lord as a blank slate. I never got the impression from your writing or pronouncements that you spent solid time in prayer. Maybe I just wasn't seeing it, of course. But that never came through. You seem like you love your wife and care well for your family. I do pray for you that the fissure wound that may be keeping you from intimacy with the Lord in these ways is healed over time, and that you find your way. I think you're trying to figure it out at this point (aren't we all?). Being in the public eye can, I'm sure, be a tiresome thing. I hope you will take the time you need to find your footing and healing. I'd still love to have that bourbon sometime.

You Are Not A Martyr And Probably Never Will Be

When the Columbine massacre occurred on April, 20th, 1999, I had only been a Catholic for a few months. I was still getting tuned in to the Christian world, so I may not have picked up right away on the "martyr-story" of student Cassie Bernall. The teenage was reportedly asked by the gunman at point blank range "Do you believe in God?" to which she responded in the affirmative. And he shot her dead. 

Apparently, much like the Matthew Shepard gay-martyr narrative, things didn't happen this way, though. Bernall's classmate, Valeen Schnurr, was the one who was asked this question and though she was shot, she survived. The stories got conflated, but the Bernall "She Said Yes" narrative persisted. Reverend Dave McPherson, Youth Pastor at Cassie's congregation at West Bowles Community Church, told Hanna, “You will never change the story of Cassie.... The church is going to stick to the martyr story. You can say it didn’t happen that way, but the church won’t accept it.” The narrative spurned a wave of "I will die for Jesus" sentiment among zealous Evangelical teenagers, akin to the Promise Ring trend in the 1990's. 

One thing among many that I appreciate about the Church is the objective criteria She uses to determine things--that is, what makes a valid/natural/sacramental marriage, the canonization process of a would-be saint, what constitutes a miracle, the authenticity of a vision, what constitutes the conditions for a sin to be mortal, and, in this case, what makes a martyr.

Dominican Fr Benedict Ashley writes:

"True martyrdom requires three conditions: (1) that the victim actually die, (2) that he or she dies in witness of faith in Christ which is directly expressed in words, or implicitly in acts done or sins refused because of faith, and (3) that the victim accepts death voluntarily. They are not martyrs who do not actually die, or die from disease, for the sake of merely natural truths, or heresy, or for their country in war, or through suicide, etc.

'Martyr' is often used loosely of anyone who dies for the sake of any cause. But the Christian cause is in fact objectively true, and not a subjective illusion, as are many of the causes for which persons die sincerely but deludedly. Thus those who die for the sake of fanatical religious cults, or as terrorists, or for their own glory, however sincere, are not genuine martyrs, but are objectively suicides. Nor are those who die for a noble but merely human motive, as the parent who dies to save a child, or a soldier for his country, since such virtuous acts can pertain simply to the order of natural virtue."

If my pious friends are anything like me, they may occasionally daydream of meeting the Lord and being greeted by the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant." This life is not worth much to me, and so I look forward to the day when I can offer it to the Lord--but only in the way He calls it from me. 

When I think of the Columbine story, being asked "Do you believe in God?" and answering "Yes" is like the lowest level of witness. Even the demons believe in God and would answer the same. But such "opportunities" (if we think of it like that) are few and far between. As Americans, we would more often be dragged though the courts or sued into destitution then strung up from a tree limb to be used as an example to others. We don't live in Roman times; we are not missionaries in the Middle East. The odds of any of us dying for the faith as true martyrs is as likely as winning the Powerball, I would think. 

And yet, we massage the daydream, because it's a distraction from the slog of living the virtues day in and day out on the long, narrow road to sanctification. The little things we suffer we imagine ourselves as persecuted with our first-century brothers and sisters whom we read about. We also have the unfortunate tendency to conflate nationalism with aspects of the faith, and in other aspects are quick to draw Nazi or "gold-star" imagery to draw attention to our plight. 

One telling sign that indicates the contrary to the martyr-complex is that you do not illicit joy. You are like one of those our Lord criticizes for having a gloomy continence when fasting (Mt 6:16). The fact of the matter is you may be a martyr for a cause, or you may take a hit standing up to a totalitarian overstep by government, but you are not promised a martyr's crown as a result. Playing the martyr is not a good look when it's not earned. And to earn it in the U.S. is a rare thing indeed. So, better settle in for the long slog of dying to self everyday, quietly doing secret penance in reparation, and loving one's neighbor sincerely, Prepare to live a long life, and consider it a grace when you may be taken home early. Your martyr day-dream fantasies may be just that.