Sunday, July 31, 2022

"The Older Will Serve The Younger:" The Novus Ordo And The Stolen Birthright


 The liturgical noose seems to be tightening in many parts of the country. The ICKSP getting booted in Chicago; Savanah and DC, among others, issuing restrictions on the Traditional Mass. It's crazy to think about, especially if you love Tradition. 

Most well-meaning but largely ignorant Catholics who may not know or care enough about the significance of the changes to the Mass after the Second Vatican Council might wonder what the big deal is, this liturgical "preferencing." Out with the old, in with the new. If they are sympathetic, they may even throw consolation bones, like "we have a reverent Novus Ordo where we can receive on the tongue. And we even have Chant and incense too!" 

I'm not steeped in the history of the liturgical reforms by any means, but I've read and been exposed to enough to know that it was the machinations of a few (Annibale Bugnini being the chief architect) that intentionally switched the tracks in the train yard, and took things where they were never intended to go. It was not accidental, but by design.

In the readings at Mass today, we see the praising of the dishonest steward in Lk 16:1-9. So already there was this theme running through my head about deceptiveness, guile, and switch-a-roos. And it brought be back to Genesis 25-27: the story of Jacob and Essau.

Now, I don't have these thoughts worked out; this is just a dumb blog post, not a scholarly article. We know that the Christ comes through the line of Isaac, not Ishhmael; through Jacob, not Essau. We also know that Essau is first born, and so is in line to receive the blessing and birthright. We see in the birth story, Jacob "gripping Esau's heel" (Gen 25:26) and coming out a close second. Note the words of the Lord spoken to Rebekah:

"Two nations are in your womb,

two peoples are separating while still within you;

But one will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger." (Gen 25:23)


Strange, right? Now let's look at the two things first: the selling of Esau's birthright to Jacob for a pot of stew (Gen 25:31), and then the stealing of the blessing in Gen 27. 

Esau himself sold his birthright (gave it away, basically) in exchange for food. Jacob is like the shrewd steward who is commended in the reading today. "First sell me your right as firstborn." The implications were long-standing. Later, Jacob continues his cunning by donning a hair suit and sneaking in to Isaac's chamber to trick him into giving him the blessing instead of Essau. He puts on the hairy suit to pretend he is Jacob

Think about that a minute. 

When I think of the Consilium, I think the Esaus in the Church didn't realize at the time, perhaps, the value of what they possessed. But other, more shrewd churchmen who sought to remake the liturgy could only do so by a kind of swap-a-roo, akin to the deception of Jacob's hair shirt. Not only do they lose the birthright, but they lose the blessing. And the words of the Lord spoken to Rebekah seem to be actualized today: "Two nations are in your womb; two people are separating while still within you. But one will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger."

Even when Isaac summons Jacob and blesses him in Chapter 28, what does he tell him? "You shall not marry a Canaanite woman!" (Gen 28:1). He doesn't, but Essau does. I don't know what to make of that one.  

The Novus Ordo is a kind of liturgical "stranger"--it's birth came about by way of a kind of deception, a cunning and shrewdness (imagine Bugnini in the hair shirt and Paul VI as the aged Isaac) in how it was forumulated and carried out, that robbed the unknowing faithful of their birthright. And now, if Rome has its way, it will be "the older serving the younger."

How all these liturgical battlelines, prophecy, human deception, and Gods' will in it all plays out remains to be seen. And I'm not coming to any conclusion here--only noting some interesting themes in scripture, here. Take the disjointed thoughts for what they're worth--which is not much, really. 

Saturday, July 30, 2022

The Habits Of The Home

 

Until recently I was the only guy in my neighborhood with a push gas mower, since everyone here has riding mowers. Now, I'm the only guy mowing his half acre with a manual, old-school reel mower. And I'm really digging it.

For those who aren't familiar, these are the old school non-gas, non-electric mowers with blades that rotate by muscle power. They are usually intended for city/small lots, but I found one that was wider at 20" which almost matched my previous gas push mower. It cost me $40 on Craigslist. The cut is fine, you have to overlap the rows a bit more than you would with a normal mower, and it's definitely more effort than a gas or self-propelled electric. But since I sit on my ass all day at a computer during the week, and don't belong to a gym, I consider this a forced workout--and it's a good one.

One nice thing too is I enlisted my 10 year old to do half the lawn for me for $20, while I do the other half. I know he'll hate me as he gets older, but I have more comfort that there's no gas to mess with, or electric cord to run over. He was struggling a bit at first, but I'm proud of him in pushing through and completing the whole back last week. Besides an occasional backlapping/sharpening once a year, there's really nothing to do with it--no oil to change, no battery to charge, nothing to plug it into. It's more effort for sure, but it comes with very little maintenance upkeep and cost. 

Then there is the dishwasher. This is our second dishwasher in seven years, and this one is only four years old. The heating element seems to have gone, which means that it washes but doesn't dry the dishes that well. When our washer died last year, I made sure to get an older model used on Craiglist that were built better and to last, without any bells and whistles; I got a 20 year old toploader for $50 and it is holding up fine--I plan to repair it if it needs it. 

But since dishwashers are in the kitchen, there's some ascetic considerations; I dont necessarily want one from the 1980's. I found a similar stainless steel model from a guy on Craigslist who upgraded all his appliances and is getting rid of his working GE (again, for $50) that I will take a look at next week. But I may not even do that if we end up washing dishes by hand.

Like the mowers ("won't start, not sure what's wrong with it, for scrap") put out to the curb on Craigslist, dishwashers and other appliances are becoming more commonly rendered inoperable after four or five years. A new circuit board might cost upwards of $200, so people just scrap them and buy another one. Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of this cycle personally--I would gladly pay more to have something last twice as long. But now I'm questioning the unquestionable--why do I need this at all? 

I spent the morning getting some additional things to make this new "system" work. I have it all set up, and have been testing the "system" since last night--it is working much better and easier than I thought it would! It needs buy in from the family (check) and a different approach to out usually slovenly habit of leaving dishes everywhere, and just grabbing new ones--kind of a new "clean as you go" approach.


I have one dish basin filled with two gallons of soapy water in the sink on one side where dishes and silverware can soak for a bit. When that gets close to full, one can use a stiff bristled brush sitting in a cup of dish soap and water to wash the dish/bowl/silverware and then simply drop it in the other dish pan on the counter (filled with 2 gallons of water and 2 tbsps of bleach or a few drops of tea tree oil) for a quick rinse, take out, and put in the dish rack right next to it. It's shockingly simple, and not much more effort than some of the additional steps needed with the dishwasher (plus no bending, which is a plus). Plus if a piece of cultlery or a plate or bowl is needed, it can just be grabbed from the dish rack, futher simplifying the constant need to be loading/unloading/putting away from the dishwasher. 

I did crack during the heat wave and turned on our twenty year old central air for the week. Now that nightime temps are dropping back down to the low seventies in the late evening, I may go back to opening up windows and running the box fans at night to bring in the cooler air (though it does raise the humidity in the house a little). We still have our mobile air conditioner in our bedroom as well, if the central AC ever does conk out one of these days. 

And of course, we haven't used the dyer in years, except very rarely. Drying the clothes on giant racks in the bedroom under the skylights have worked really well, and now we don't even think of it as an inconvenience. It's just the way we dry clothes, by hanging them. There's nothing to break, nothing to repair. And it really doesn't take much more time either; pluse the clothes when they are dry are right by our dressers, so we just take them off, fold them, and put them away right there. Easy.

Not all things that are old-fashioned are better (I'm reminded of the clever funny ad about 'hand-crafted artisinal toilet paper') --but not all things that are new are either, and they come with a cost for convenience that we don't always think about. Everything is a trade off in one way or another, and engineer-types would be best to remember that sometimes the simplest solutions are better than the most optimized or efficient. 

This is in the trial stage right now--the reel mower, the handwashing dishes, the fans--but I'm hopeful it may be one more thing we do somewhat intentionally, and one less thing we have to worry about breaking down. I think a change in mindset will be important too--mowing the lawn isn't a chore, but a chance to exercise. Washing the dishes isn't a bother (well, we'll see) but a chance to relax and do some Christian meditation over the suds and rinsing. The fans--well, maybe that's an opportunity just for mortification.


Regardless, I'll let you know how it goes. For softies like me, what's old is new again. 

Friday, July 29, 2022

The Art of Being Alone


I'm not alone very often these days. But since Wednesday, I have been, as my wife and kids drove to the beach to spend time with my parents. 

I declined the invitation to go down with them. I needed go through detox from nictotine (yet again), and needed to be alone to do it in order to keep damages to a minimum. Since I had been in the house all day for the past two days trying to work while drying out, I decided to go have a drink (alone), then dinner (alone), and then spent the rest of my Friday night praying (alone), and later perusing Target and Dollar Tree (alone) looking for a certain kind of dish basin. 

You see, our dishwasher wasn't working correctly, and I was tired of trying to diagnose it. So I asked my wife if she'd be ok just not using it, as I'm growing weary of repairing and replacing appliances, and she obliged. "It will be just like on vacation," I said. There is a part of me that wants to be more intentional about these things, though--slow down my life so I can make time to do dishes by hand as an activity, not a nusiance or inconvenience, but work it in as a natural part of our family routine. Seemed like serendipitious timing. We'll see how it works out. 

I literally had nothing to do this evening. A friend tried to get together but it didn't work out and I was unwilling to make the drive. And so my time was suddenly my own, and I didn't do much with it-didn't waste it, but didnt optimize it--I was just existing, on a Friday night, in a Target, shopping for a certain kind of dish basin.

This used to be my life, before marriage. I would go to the weekend movies at the Ritz at the Bourse alone. I would take the bus from my apartment and drink whiskey on the ride down Ridge Avenue to Center City to be alone in company at parties. Sometimes I would throw my bike on the rack, and later bobbing and weaving after midnight, make my way back by moonlight up Kelly Drive along the Schuykill. When I got back, I would put on some music and make some tea, and sit on the couch, or smoke on the porch.

You think of things to do with your time. There were times when the loneliness was acute, but most of the time it was just life--existing, functioning, trying to make do with our individual burdens that are unique to our state in life. I was generally okay being alone most of the time, but sometimes it was too hard, too heavy, not having anyone to keep me in check. I longed for a partner, that when my motorcycle broke down I had someone to call, that I had someone to share my fears with, wrap my arms around, and vice versa. 

My family will be back tomorrow. I spent the evening after getting home arranging our new dishwashing-by-hand-system: a basin with clean water and hydogiene peroxide for rinse, another in the sink for soaking, a nice drying rack arrangement. I sewed some linen hand towels, drank some iced tea, listened to John Coltrane's A Love Supreme

I'm afraid to sit on the patio out back--I'm not in the clear yet, need at least 24 more hours til all the drug is out of my system and then maybe I will be nice, will be affable and join good-natured company again. Until then, I'm sequestering for the good of everyone. I punched the gas by the minimart on my way home and let out a searing Ffffffffff-!!!------ but I didn't stop. I kept driving and made the best of my patheticly nice, indifferent Friday evening.

Tuesday, July 26, 2022

The Prophetess

The other night I was sitting on the patio praying. I have a personal policy that anytime someone comes to mind I either shoot them a text or call, since there's usually a reason why the Lord placed them there in my consciousness. That intuitiveness can sometimes feel like a cross, but I figure God gave it to me for a reason.

Who came to me in prayer that evening was a person I had no former contact with, but felt could help me with some things I have been struggling with. Her name was Mary.

Mary is around eighty years old. She comes to church in a frumpy jacket even when it's a hundred degrees outside, and uses a sit-down walker. She comes to church, and often stays, and prays, and stays. I had never spoken to her directly, but I knew she was a woman of prayer who seemed to have a direct line to the Blessed Mother and the Holy Spirit. When I thought about her, I recalled the words in Luke's gospel about Anna the Prophetess: “She never left the Temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying” (Luke 2:37).

On Monday, I took my daughter to the 5:30 Mass with me for a little daddy-daughter date, and lo and behold, there was Mary sitting reading the scriptures. I asked if I could sit next to her and she kindly obliged. My daughter and i prayed a rosary together, and after Mass I leaned in and asked Mary if she could pray over me.

We headed downstairs and sat in the uncomfortably warm foyer outside the soup kitchen. Mary recounted her time spent at the Vatican, and told my daughter and I about the time she was gifted a relic by a nun--a crucifix that had touched the blood of Padre Pio, the blood that came from his stigmata. She pulled it out from her shirt, and invited my daughter and I to touch it. She encouraged me to undertake the Seven Dolores of the Blessed Virgin Mary devotion, which she said many graces had come from for her, and then prayed with us, additionally writing our names in her little weathered notepad with a pencil so that she could continue to pray for us. She talked a lot, a bit rambly, and eventually I had to let her know we had to leave or we would be late for gymnastics.

I felt a good deal of peace upon leaving the church; a natural peace, not necessarily supernatural. Mary had cancer, her air conditioner gave out during the heatwave, but she seemed unfazed by any of these things. "The Lord will provide." It gave me a reminder and assurance that "Only one thing is important. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her." (Lk 10:42)

Mary is the kind of woman you want praying for you. I can't testify to her sanctity or know much about her, but anyone who spends all their waking hours in church and in prayer has their ducks in a right row, whether they are a prophetess or not. And at this moment in my life, I feel these often overlooked figures in our midst are valuable spiritual currency. I don't always pray as I should, but Jesus also had help in carrying his cross as well. In my mind, every church needs an Anna, and every sinner like myself can use a Mary in their life to pray on our behalf.

Sunday, July 24, 2022

Should You Have a Liturgical "Plan B"?


A priest friend in the diocese texted me the other day after the vindicitve queen'ing of Cardinal Gregory that he thinks our diocesean TLM's days are numbered. I replied back, "I guess we will have to just wait and see." 

Part of my response was trying to smooth out any unnecesary inner-alarmism on my part, and part was that I really don't have a firm backup plan should the only Latin Mass offered in our state be taken from us.

If we were to list out our 'options,' here's where it stands:

-There is a Ukrainian Catholic Church about ten minutes from us. I am Byzantine by rite; my wife doesn't care for the liturgy. I have written about why we don't attend the Divine Liturgy here.

-There is a SSPX chapel about ten minutes from us as well. I really don't want to go the SSPX route, though it is always an option for occasional Mass. I've written about how I've (at the moment) come to that decision here.

-The FSSP Latin Mass is about a half hour from us. It's a large quasi-parish. We know people here, I've gone to events there, but there's no local connection for us. It is an option, I suppose.

-We could keep attending our local parish; the Novus Ordo is now offered ad orientum, reverent, etc. For lack of a better expression, it's still lipstick on a pig, though, which I'm having trouble getting past.


I honestly don't know what if any "concession plan" we have were the TLM to be no mas here. Do we need to have this figured out now? I don't feel the Lord will abandon us, even if our ecclesial snyonder's throw us out to pasture. It wouldn't be the first. 

Part of me fears the resentment that has the potential to scab over in my heart if forced to attend the Novus Ordo by the heavy-hand of Rome. It's hard to go back to chuck when you've been treated to sirloin. I wouldn't say I'm opposed to this concession (because let's face it, I would never go back if my arm wasn't pinned behind me in the way TC is trying to do), but my heart drops when I think about the prospect. It would be an act of penance and humility, but also brings with it those awful feelings of years ago having to "offer up" the endurance of the banal liturgy and casucal offensiveness of not offering God the choicest cuts of worship.

I don't even ask "why" anymore, though (ie, WHY is this happening to us? What did we do wrong?). That would imply that those in the upper ecclesial echelons have our best interests at heart. They don't. There is not order and right reason, but disorder and confusion, which is of the Devil. Perhaps this is a chastisement from God, and the just will have to endure it as part of their sanctification. Nothing happens apart from His will. From the prophecy of St. Francis:

“There will be such diversity of opinions and schisms among the people, the religious and the clergy, that, except those days were shortened, according to the words of the Gospel, even the elect would be led into error, were they not specially guided, amid such great confusion, by the immense mercy of God….

“Those who persevere in their fervor and adhere to virtue with love and zeal for the truth, will suffer injuries and persecutions as rebels and schismatics; for their persecutors, urged on by the evil spirits, will say they are rendering a great service to God by destroying such pestilent men from the face of the earth…

“Some preachers will keep silent about the truth, and others will trample it under foot and deny it. Sanctity of life will be held in derision even by those who outwardly profess it, for in those days Our Lord Jesus Christ will send them, not a true Pastor, but a destroyer.”

—Works of the Seraphic Father St. Francis of Assisi, published in 1882 by the London-based Catholic publishing house R. Washbourne, 1882, pp. 248-250.


So, I think at this point, we will continue to trust God and not try to pre-formulate a "plan" of our own. I don't know what we will do if the rug is ripped out from under us, but we are more fortunate than many (whom my heart burns for), and we trust God will supply us as a family with sufficient grace necessary for our state in life. We aren't owed anything. Maybe the pain of wanting to offer fitting worship and being unable to will cloak us in the pain our Savior bore in dying for ungrateful, sinful men. I don't know. I've been holding on to this scripture in the meantime concerning being ok with not having a "plan B" until the Lord reveals it to me as the spiritual head of my household:

"And when they shall bring you into the synagogues, and to magistrates and powers, be not solicitous how or what you shall answer, or what you shall say; For the Holy Ghost shall teach you in the same hour what you must say." (Lk 12:11-12)

Saturday, July 23, 2022

The Homegrown Missions



 “Youths or young men who feel a strong desire to toil for the souls of heathen people and who are willing to go afar with no hope of earthly recompense and with no guarantee of a return to their native land are encouraged to write, making their letter personal, to the Editor of Field Afar.” 

This 'call to vocations' was printed in 1911 by James A. Walsh, M.M., editor of the Field Afar. It was a call to join the Maryknoll congregation for foreign missions. The complete story can be found at America here

The Maryknoll call to vocations doesn't sugarcoat the difficulties of missionary life; from an earthly standpoint, it looks univiting and without recompense. And yet that didn't stop scores of men and women from enthusiastically signing up to labor in the Lord's vineyard abroad. I would like to see data, but from speculation I don't think this is common today.

When we think of missionaries, we think of going out to foreign nations, evangelizing indigenous tribes maybe, like the Apostles, the great St. Francis Xavier who baptized tens of thousands en masse in the East, or more recently, priests such as Ven Aloysius Schwartz in Korea (check out my friend Kevin Wells' book here). In the modern age, it is less common to equate "Catholic" with "missionary," while the Pentecostals, Mormons, and other evangelicals have stepped in to fill the vacuum left as Catholic clergy age out and the Vatican poo-poos the need for "propheletizing." 

In my mind, though, a missionary's call is simple and straightforward: to bring the Gospel to the people, and the people to Christ. It exists for the purpose of saving souls. When it loses that vision or impetus, it can be very hard, I imagine, to persevere in these backwater hellholes when there is nothing greater to compel one to remain at work there.

Then there is the "New Evangelization" put forth by Pope John Paul II, the call to re-catechize in our own backyards to the modern man who have been baptized but are essential pagans. These are largely "Christian" people who have forgotten the meat of the Gospel; they are very difficult to reach, because they do not see faith or religion as having any role in their lives. I don't know how successful this endeavor has been in making converts--I suspect it is the seed that falls on thorny ground, never taking root. It was a good and noble effort though.


We are not all called to go to India or Africa or the MIddle East, but we are commissioned by our baptism to make disciples of all nations. We can do that right where we are if there is need (and there is), starting in our own backyard. It requires no fundraising, no travel plans, no capital--just time, prayer, zeal, and a willing spirit. 

As more and more people fail to marry and continue to divorce, the rate of loneliness and living (and dying) alone will continue to increase. Especially vulnerable are the elderly who may be shut-ins or forgotten about. They may have literally no one in their life to call, or even pay them a visit. No one may even know they have died until the smell reaches the outside. What tragedy.

What if "missionary work" consisted or identifying these people, beginning correspondance by letter or email, and making periodic visits to listen, help clean their apartment, and share the Gospel with them? This is just one example of doing the work of a missionary in no formal capacity. Of course it could be of great benefit to go "two by two" as our Lord told the disciples. This is just one thought among others. But it gives one a place to start, with souls in one's backyard, as long as one is willing to labor.  Loneliness is going to be a great epidemic in the years to come, and is for many worse than death. 

There is so much we can do as Christians to labor. We can be as creative or simple as we like, but we must be obedient and willing to do the work. We don't have to go to faraway lands, unless that is where God calls a person. We can start in our own backyard doing the work of mercy. A soul is a soul is a soul, and a life a life, that some might be saved.


Friday, July 22, 2022

Lift Not Your Head Before Me

 


Have you ever thought about the state of your heart when you enter church for Mass? 

There are some days I show up and saunter (in my head) up to our normal pew where we stake out, maybe smile and wave a few waves to other congregants like a chipper bird, square my shoulders, clear my throat, and assume the position on the kneeler.  You belong here

And then there are some days when I slink into the back of the church, afraid to lift my head up, with no desire to see or be seen. I'm not gazing at the parapet like a gazelle, but feeling my nose so close to the tile floor that I feel no better than a worm. I want to get in and get out, and even showing up is hard. Why? Because you don't belong here. 

The difference in the inner dispositions is one of outward justification (Lk 18:14) vs. complete inner abjection. I have been in both pairs of shoes, but I think the heart of the Lord is closer to the latter. 

 Today is the feast of St. Mary Magdalene, penitent. Scripture affirms that seven demons were cast from her, but it was erroneous conflation to equate her with the sexually immoral woman who washes Jesus' feet with her tears and hair in the gospel. Although this is the reading used in the traditional calendar today (Lk 7:36-50), the point stands--those who love much are forgiven much. And those to whom less is forgiven, love less. 

Regardless, St. Mary Magdalene is a model of penitence. She spent the last years of her life in solitude in a cave. When the Lord pierces you with the dagger of penitence, solitude seems to be the only worthy vessel to contain the nard seeping out from one's being. Another Mary--St. Mary of Egypt (who was a great fornicator)--found she could not even enter a church where the true cross was being exhalted because of her many sins; an invisible force kept her from entering. After renouncing her former way of life, she crossed the Jordan and lived alone in the desert for 47 years, a model of contrite penitence in proportion to her sins. 

I know I have been debased and laid bare when I do not even want to open my eyes or lift my head while in Mass, before the splendor of the Lord. Like the publican standing in the back, "who would not even raise his eyes" but beat his breast and prayed "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." It's a searing mercy, a grace, but a painful one when you have been so attached to feeling that good old "Good Catholic Justification." When you are debased by grace, stripped of that bravado, you can't get close enough to the back wall. You don't belong here.

The difference between the self-justified and the penitent is that the self-justified walk in with their heads raised and their shoulders back, expecting to be welcomed with high honors. But God casts the mighty from their thrones, and the rich he sends away empty; it is the hungry he fills with good things. Those who posture their hearts to the floor, the Lord lifts up. They do not dare lift their heads before His majesty, but in the naked social stripping, he reaches down and draws them up to take their place at the table (Jn 8:10). 

You wonder sometimes how someone can spend 47 years of their life repenting of their sins and doing penance in some awful desolate place. Then again, when I think of all my sins, it's a wonder I don't follow suite but instead think I'm an "okay guy," a "good Catholic" or whatever. Just as the Lord fed the Jews with manna in the desert, he feeds the penitent with grace because their hearts are rightly ordered, they have put first things first, they have laid the cornerstone of humility and built upon it. 

Pray for the grace of a penitent heart. It will humble you in the best and most painful ways. And if you are to lift your head before Him, make sure it is Christ in his mercy that is drawing you up, not your own self-justification because you think you've earned a place before Him. There is none good, but One. 

Sunday, July 17, 2022

If You Do Not Love Your Brother, You Do Not Love God


I've been writing about the sins of the eyes lately. As bad as sins of the flesh are, they often take center stage in our examination of consciences to the neglect of some of the deeper, more rooted sins of the heart, and the more careless sins of the lips with regards to charity.

For what does our Lord say?

"For from the heart come forth evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies. These are the things that defile a man" (Mt 15:19-20).

And lest we let ourselves off to easily, 

"But I say to you, that whosoever is angry with his brother, shall be in danger of the judgment. And whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council. And whosoever shall say, Thou Fool, shall be in danger of hell fire" (Mt 5:22). 


It's interesting, isn't it? In Mt 22:36-40, Jesus tells one doctor of the Law, 

"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind.This is the greatest and the first commandment.

And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two commandments dependeth the whole law and the prophets." 


And yet as I was meditating on the first letter of St. John last night, he has this to say.


"Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.

In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

We love because he first loved us.

If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.

And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother."

(1 Jn 4:12-13, 17-21)


First, we are only able to love because God first loved us. Without the love of God, we have no love to give.

And yet, the evidence of our love of God depends on our love of our brothers. The Lord's commandment places first that we must love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind. And yet St. John says we cannot do that if we do not love our brother. 

Mother Teresa said that when she encountered the poor, it was not a simile, that they are "like" Christ, but that they were Christ in distressing guise. There was no dissonance, no separation, and by this she proved her love for God.

My heart had scabbed over in three short days of neglecting to pray, and in my meditation last night I was cut to heart with the realization of the calcification that had taken place, the hatred I was carrying in my heart, a tare sowed among the wheat. Our Lord had used harsh words and stern warning of Hell for those who simply had applied a single harsh word to his brethren. "By your words you will be condemned" (Mt 12:37). We gloss over the term, raca (from the Aramaic, reqa). Simply translated, it means "empty, worthless." And how much worse words I have used. 

Worse yet, in failing to love my brothers, I have failed to love myself--and not only failed to love, but have been filled with contempt, self-hatred, disgust. When we are filled with self-contempt, we cannot love. We are incapable of it--it's as simple as that. For why would we fail to love the things God loves--namely, us...our own selves. 

The chaser to the evening meditation was the twenty-third chapter of The Imitation of Christ, Of Meditation Upon Death:

"Trust not thy friends and kinsfolk, nor put off the work of thy salvation to the future, for men will forget thee sooner than thou thinkest. It is better for thee now to provide in time, and to send some good before thee, than to trust to the help of others. If thou art not anxious for thyself now, who, thinkest thou, will be anxious for thee afterwards? Now the time is most precious. Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation. But alas! that thou spendest not well this time, wherein thou mightest lay up treasure which should profit thee everlastingly. The hour will come when thou shalt desire one day, yea, one hour, for amendment of life, and I know not whether thou shalt obtain."


Not only was my heart filled with hatred of self and neighbor, but idolatry, pride, and vanity. Where did it come from, how did it set in? Chapter 20 gave me insight the next day (emphasis mine):


"The greatest Saints used to avoid the company of men(Heb.11:38) whenever they were able, and chose rather to serve God in solitude. A wise man once said `As often as I have been among men, I have returned home a lesser man.(Seneca,Epist.VII) We often share this experience, when we spend much time in conversation. It is easier to keep silence altogether than not to talk more than we should. It is easier to remain quietly at home than to keep due watch over ourselves in public. Therefore, whoever is resolved to live an inward and spiritual life must, with Jesus, withdraw from the crowds(Mark 6:31). No man can live in the public eye without risk to his soul, unless he who would prefer to remain obscure. No man can safely speak unless he would gladly remain silent. No man can safely command, unless he has learned to obey well. No man can safely rejoice, unless he possesses the testimony of a good conscience.

Those who stand highest in the esteem of men are most exposed to grievous peril, since they often have too great a confidence in themselves. It is therefore, more profitable to many that they should not altogether escape temptations, but be often assailed lest they become too secure and exalted in their pride, or turn too readily to worldly consolations. How good a conscience would he keep if a man never sought after passing pleasures nor became preoccupied with worldly affairs! If only a man could cast aside all useless anxiety and think only on divine and salutary things, how great would be his peace and tranquillity!

No one is worthy of heavenly comfort, unless they have diligently exercised themselves in holy contrition. If you desire heartfelt contrition, enter into your room, and shut out the clamour of the world, as it is written, `Commune with your own heart, and in your chamber, and be still(Ps.4:4;Isa.26:20). Within your cell you will discover what you will only too often lose abroad. The cell that is dwelt in continually becomes a delight, but ill kept it breeds weariness of spirit. If in the beginning of your religious life you have dwelt in it and kept it well, it will later become a dear friend and a welcome comfort.

A cheerful going out often brings a sad home-coming, and a merry evening brings a sorry morning. For every bodily pleasure brings joy at first, but at length it bites and destroys.(Prov.23:31,32) "


At Mass this morning, I felt reserved, sober, and filled with compunction. I couldn't get to Confession prior, and though I had just gone last week, I still felt the need for my heart to be cleansed. By an act of grace, I was able to tell God I had sinned, was sincerely sorry, for I had called him Raca--empty, worthless. My hurt pride had given way to anger, but now it was melting in sincere contrition. It was not fear of Hell, but love of God and wounding Him, that motivated this perfect act of Contrition by the grace of God. I trusted this consolation, received Communion with the resolve to go to Confession at the next opportunity, went back to my pew, and was given the gift of tears in the moment which I did not wipe away--that is, sincere sorrow, and a heartfelt communion.

We can only love our selves and our brothers because God first loved us. And if we fail to do that while pledging charity and fidelity to the Lord, we make ourselves liars. The only antidote is sincere, perfect contrition which is founded on love. We can be bodily chaste and yet possess cold hearts devoid of love, and as such we are white-washed tombs. 

The Lord patiently teaches us to cherish the cell, guard our lips, and love embodied man. That doesn't mean we have to trust our friends and kinfolk of their help or even constantly keep the company of men. In fact, the Lord may humble us in removing that consolation of affirmation to remind us where our ability to love comes from--that is, from God alone. 

Saturday, July 16, 2022

Prayer Is A Muscle


Typically at home my wife and I will wake up the same time around 6 or 6:30am at home. We will do a morning offering at the kitchen table, meditate on the traditional readings for the day, read a chapter from The Imitation of Christ or Divine Intimacy, and then pray a rosary or intentions. Since I've been working from home most of the summer, it's been our morning routine. I'll try to hit up daily Mass once or twice a week, and the same for Adoration.

 The past few days we have been on vacation, and out of routine. I haven't been as intentional about this prayer routine, and to be quite honest, haven't prayed much at all. It's only been three days, and I already feel out of sorts and not in the best frame of mind. I know I could have gotten up early and found a quiet spot in the house to meditate on the readings, but I just haven't. It's like I took a "vacation" from prayer. I even ended up eating meat on Friday, and neglecting to pray for the people who I had asked me for prayers. 

I wrote about these potential "holes in the fence" where the Devil will capitalize on your lack of prayer in Bring Me My Weapon. It starts slowly, innocuously. My son and I took a kayak out on the bay yesterday, and you don't really realize how far out from shore you are until you look back. But it happens one paddle stroke at a time. Even now a number of months after Lent, I have put back on the twelve pounds I lost, simply from not fasting and not exercising regularly. 

Protestants are sometimes critical of Catholics for their "rote" prayers, but they shouldn't be. Prayer is a habit, and these so-called "rote" prayers can keep us in the practice rather than leaving it up to inspiration. Monastics know this, as they call it "the work of prayer." Prayer doesn't always just happen, just like acts of love in a marriage don't always just happen on their own--sometimes we do have to work at it. If prayer is a muscle, like our bodies, we can neglect to exercise it.

I'm looking forward to going home today and getting back into routine, but also as a reminder to take more responsibility for my prayer life and not leave it to the externals. It's hard when you're in vacation-mode, but we shouldn't take a vacation from our spiritual lives. Outside of it, t's nothing but emptiness and wordly stimulation that promises contentment but doesn't deliver. I've been lazy, negligent, and I can already feel the effects. Don't be the same!

Friday, July 15, 2022

Lust Is The Fire, Loneliness Is The Gasoline

 A number of years ago I was chatting with a friend in his townhouse in Arlington. We were getting ready to go for a hike, and I was asking him about life, relationships, etc. He mentioned that he wasn't with his semi-long term boyfriend anymore. In the interim, he mentioned--confessed, almost, with hesitancy--that he was making use of the gay hookup app Grindr. The way he described it, you would have thought one was ordering a pizza via Doordash: post a few pics, swipe a few swipes, and all of a sudden, a guy is ringing his doorbell at one in the morning. They do their thing, that is that, and the stranger leaves just as soon as he came in. 

The only thing new in this context is the technology, (albeit with a gay twist in this context, which I'm not going to write about). People have been having meetings of indiscretion for ages, though in the modern age the "hookup culture" is more ubiquitous than aberration. But beyond the normal (sexual) appetite--which traditionally was confined in the bonds of marriage--what fuels it?

Timothy Keller in his talk The Struggle For Love makes reference to Ernest Becker, a cultural anthropologist and secular atheist, and his Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Denial Of Death (which was actually written 50 years ago). With regards to secular modern man:

"We still need to feel that our life matters in the grand scheme of things...but if we no longer have God, how are we to do this? And one of the first ways that occurred to the modern person was the "romantic solution." The self-glorification that we need in our innermost being we now look for in the love partner. What is it that we want when we elevate the love partner to this position? We want to be rid of our faults, our feelings of nothingness. We want to be justified. We want to know our existence hasn't been in vain We want redemption. Nothing less."


The sexual appetite is the constant, n. What has changed in the formula is the isolation we have to deal with, the vacuum we have created by removing God from our lives. The inner emptiness seeks to be filled, since nature abhors a vacuum. 

Keller speaks of this emptiness in the story of Jacob in Genesis 29, who seeks the love he didn't receive from his father, Isaac. In a twist of irony, Laban "switches out" Jacob's love (the object of his romantic affection) Rachel with Leah, just as Jacob sought his father's affirmation in stealing the birthright of his brother Esau. The Hebrew term for "deceit" is the same in both contexts. Jacob is wounded, and after seven years of serving Laban is not preoccupied with being wed to Rachel, but (crassly) to "lie with her." Rachel will complete him, seal his emotional wounds. Of course, Rachel remains barren for fourteen years before giving birth to Joseph, and the "unloved" Leah eventually gives birth to Judah, the line of which the Messiah will come. 

We are all looking for love, for meaning, for connection. And we settle for hookups. Why? Because we are horny, looking to scratch and itch? Maybe on the surface. But if you've lived through hook-up culture like I have, that's only half the story. The other, more telling half is that loneliness is the gasoline we throw on the coals to keep the fire going. It flares up for a moment, but there's no solid mass to keep it going. If we're not careful, too, we end up getting some of the gasoline on our clothing or body and burn ourselves. 

Modern man is incredibly, incredibly lonely. And loneliness is so powerful, so difficult to endure, that we will use people in the most intimate way, robbing by deceit, just to gain a few moments respite from it. Even in a marriage, people can feel this way, but these coals can be stoked, whereas the single person must grapple with an empty fire ring that must be built from scratch. 

Why is modern man so lonely? Because he has made no room for God, the eternal ember of Love that is never extinguished. In reducing his personhood to appetites and urges to be satisfied, an existential loneliness that must be assuaged at all costs, man has nothing to keep him going except with a constant leap-frog of largely meaningless encounters. This is not how we were meant to flourish. 

Marriage is more than a repository to curb concupiscence. And it must be more than simply a romantic preoccupation with covering over our wounds. Hookup culture is the Splenda that leaves a bitter aftertaste. What God reserves for those who love Him is honey, "Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste." (Prov 24:13)  In its fullness, a healthy marriage is the cure for loneliness, the proper ends of our sexual appetite, and in its fruitful expression, the generation of children. It's what most people, in their heart of hearts, are really searching for. Whether they know it or not.



Thursday, July 14, 2022

The First Look Is Free...The Second Will Cost You


 It's always tough for Catholic families when it comes to the beach. We enjoy the waves, the sand, and relaxing. But it's also a bit of a mine field when it comes to modesty. Men, especially, must take custody of the eyes and teach their sons the same. As Scripture says, "the light of thy body is thy eye. If thy eye be single, thy whole body shall be lightsome" (Mt 6:22).

We always have to balance healthy prudence with exploitative scrupulosity. God gave us men the natural means of attraction by way of visual stimuli. Stimulation occurs through the portal of the eyes, and ultimately implants in the mind as a means of arousal. What happens from there will determine the degree of sin one is culpable of. 

Of course the only appropriate setting for stoking this arousal is in the context of marriage, and with one's wife. We can do our best to keep custody of the eyes by avoiding people, places and things that serve as occasions of sin, but it can be challenging when we live in a culture where we are continually bombarded by lewdness. 

My own approach with my son with regards to modesty is to instill a sense of what is appropriate and inappropriate, and he has a pretty good idea of this in his conscience. I tell him, "the first look is free, but the second will cost you." On the one hand, if something pops up on a billboard as we are driving, or he sees a young girl not dressed modestly on the beach, I don't want him to be wracked by guilt for having it come into his purvey without consent of the will. I want him to know that God gave us these faculties for the benefit of our future spouses and progeneration, not for selfish or inordinate desire. 

I have tried to teach him the technique of "bouncing the eyes," so that if he does catch a flash of something, it is instinctual to turn away for his own benefit, and in charity to the one who is the cause of possible temptation so as not to feed the attention seeking. We don't go looking for this kind of stimuli, but if it crosses our path, we don't have to get all wound up or unnecessarily wracked by guilt.

However, to the degree one "stores" these mental images for later cultivating, that is the "second look" that we are on the hook for. It will cost you, because at that point it is an act of the will *not* to turn away. Custody belongs to the eyes; chastity belongs to the heart. It also makes chastity harder in the long run, because once the sin of unchastity takes root in the heart, it is harder to pull up. It is much easier to pick the seed off the ground and flick it into the woods than uproot it from the soil. 

If virtue, like prayer, is a habit, it necessitates training the mind, body, eyes, and heart to desire virtue more than sin and it's temporal pleasures. For young men, "bouncing the eyes" is training--whether on the beach, while driving, or while on the computer. The Devil, the Great Legalist, will use scrupulosity as a means to condemn when there is no sin or consent. This also must be guarded against. And even if a man falls, his first instinct by way of habit should be to get up, repent, and make amends not to return to the vomit (2 Peter 2:22).  

Tuesday, July 12, 2022

Sex Is The Snare

A Commentary on Proverbs 7, on my twelfth wedding anniversary.


 [1] My son, keep my words, and lay up my precepts with thee. Son, [2] Keep my commandments, and thou shalt live: and my law as the apple of thy eye: [3] Bind it upon thy fingers, write it upon the tables of thy heart. [4] Say to wisdom: Thou art my sister: and call prudence thy friend, [5] That she may keep thee from the woman that is not thine, and from the stranger who sweeteneth her words.


Notice the "who" and the "what" in v 1-5. An elder is giving exhortation to a younger. He has traveled longer, farther, and seen the end and where it leads. Like a seasoned scout, he admonishes the younger to "keep my words." Notice the "what" as well. What should be the "apple of one's eye?" This is typically a moniker for one's beloved. But what should be the apple of one's eye? Their spouse? No, "my law." It is wisdom which should be one's first love, the captivator--not as a lover here, but as a sister. Of the wife: "may her breasts satisfy you always, may you ever be intoxicated with her love" (Prov 5:19). But like a sister, "wisdom is sweet to the soul" (Prov 24:14). 


[6] For I look out of the window of my house through the lattice, [7] And I see little ones, I behold a foolish young man, [8] Who passeth through the street by the corner, and goeth nigh the way of her house. [9] In the dark, when it grows late, in the darkness and obscurity of the night, [10] And behold a woman meeteth him in harlot's attire prepared to deceive souls; talkative and wandering,


Married lovers can communicate, after a number of years, with wordless words. They speak with deft gestures, looks, and the silence of what is not said. A fool, on the other hand, multiplies words (Ecc 10:14). The woman here, provocatively dressing her line as a fisherman ties his lure to bait ignorant fish, is "talkative," multiplying her words. She has "her [own] house," and yet is out looking to "deceive" by being out and about, "wandering." The young man's first mistake was "going nigh the way of her house." And not during the day, when there is accountability and witnesses in bystanders, but under cloak of night, "when it grows late."

The foolish harlot uses her many words to capture the hearts and loins of the young men, because she cannot stand silence, or staying put. The dutiful wife speaks to her beloved's heart in silence, as the years go on in their marriage, because words become extraneous and unnecessary in this communion. In contrast, the harlot hasn't the peace of silence, and is instead agitated by it. She is like a gyrovague, "who spend their entire lives drifting from region to region, staying as guests for three or four days in different monasteries. Always on the move, they never settle down, and are slaves to their own wills and gross appetites." (Rule of St. Benedict, Ch 1:10-11). 


[11] Not bearing to be quiet, not able to abide still at home, [12] Now abroad, now in the streets, now lying in wait near the corners. [13] And catching the young man, she kisseth him, and with an impudent face, flattereth, saying: [14] I vowed victims for prosperity, this day I have paid my vows. [15] Therefore I am come out to meet thee, desirous to see thee, and I have found thee.


The trap of adultery is the bait set in the jaws of narcissism. For even for young lovers, their love is full of ego--they love to be loved. As married couples age, they realize this intoxication of "falling in love" is a lure of the Lord, for were they to know the difficulties of the road and years ahead, they may never have married. "Lord, you tricked me, and I was tricked. You overpowered me and won" (Jer 20:7). 

And so the wayward woman sharpens and weaponizes the irons of her words, nuget covered barbs, but not before "catching" the young man and making him drunk with the tantalizing kiss which promises "more where that came from." She disarms his reason with a flaming arrow of what would normally be reserved for the altar. She even entices with a play on words, "vowing victims for prosperity...paying my vows." Were he not disarmed by a kiss, he may have remembered his own vows, but she has gone on the cunning offensive before he has a chance. 

See, too, the bait of narcissism. "You have come out to meet ME? Desirous to see ME? Found ME?" The young man is suddenly a willful object of desire, in his mind. Flattery baits the trap, for "pleasant words are a honeycomb" (Prov 16:24). 


[16] I have woven my bed with cords, I have covered it with painted tapestry, brought from Egypt. [17] I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. [18] Come, let us be inebriated with the breasts, and let us enjoy the desired embraces, till the day appear. [19] For my husband is not at home, he is gone a very long journey. [20] He took with him a bag of money: he will return home the day of the full moon.


The words continue, now painting pictures of enticement in the mind of the brute. His mind is enthralled with the details of fantasy: "a woven bed, painted tapestry, perfumed." In his body, he is enraptured by her arms and mired in her kiss, but in his mind, he is transported beyond the streets to a exotic country, an intimate foreign chamber devoid of witnesses. For "even her husband is not home," and even the day of his return is set, "the day of the full moon" to allay the anxiety of an unexpected discovery. He is given a set window of opportunity, and he can't believe his fortune. A marathon of night-long inebriated passion. At this point, not only his mind swells with the opportunistic prospect. 


[21] She entangled him with many words, and drew him away with the flattery of her lips. [22] Immediately he followeth her as an ox led to be a victim, and as a lamb playing the wanton, and not knowing that he is drawn like a fool to bonds, [23] Till the arrow pierce his liver: as if a bird should make haste to the snare, and knoweth not that his life is in danger. [24] Now therefore, my son, hear me, and attend to the words of my mouth. [25] Let not thy mind be drawn away in her ways: neither be thou deceived with her paths.


Many words. Flattery. "Deceived by the flattery of fools" (Ecc 7:5). "Immediately" he follows her, his reason bludgeoned, any potential protest muzzled. He begins to be led like an ox to slaughter, captivated as Peter, Andrew, James, John, and Matthew were captivated and as in a trance, followed Christ to their ultimate death. "Immediately, they left the ship with their father, and followed him" (Mt 4:22). And yet it is not wisdom, or grace, or the precepts of the Lord that draw the young man away as his father's words recede in the background of his mind, but desire, inpropriety...the flesh. 


[26] For she hath cast down many wounded, and the strongest have been slain by her. [27] Her house is the way to hell, reaching even to the inner chambers of death.


But unlike the disciples--the followers of Christ who were led from their earthly ties and died for gain--the young victim is led to his spiritual deathbed by the earthly, the temporal, the honey-soaked poison, never to rise again. "The mighty are cast from their thrones" (Lk 1:52). And here the harlot, the temptor casts down the wounded--wounded reason, wounded conviction, wounded temperance. She has wounded virtue and sound mind with her arrows, "piercing his liver" like a bird. He joins the army of corpses, among them even "the strongest." For strength is impotent before desire, for desire disarms and dethrones a man from within. In the post-coital bed, the sheer drapes of fantasy dissolve and the "house, the inner chamber" which brought him here has become his prison, his hell, his death. 


"For as wisdom is a defence, so money is a defence : but learning and wisdom excel in this, that they give life to him that possesseth them" 

(Ecc 7:12)



Sunday, July 10, 2022

Just A Reminder (for new readers)

 If you are new to PF, welcome. I hope you find something of value here. 

There are 600+ posts spanning eight years or so on the topics of faith, prayer, sex, chastity, marriage and family, the Latin Mass, mental health/illness, penance, conversion, Catholic manhood, the saints, evangelization, and Catholic culture. Feel free to peruse. Protestant Christians, non-believers, and Catholics alike are all welcome, but please note this is an unapologetically Catholic blog that seeks to be orthodox in deed and creed. At some point I would like to add tags to organize by topic, so stay tuned. 

At least lately, I have been writing fairly consistently. If you would like to receive new posts by email, be sure to subscribe. Please note, though, you will have to do that from your computer, as the option to enter your email only appears in the web version and not mobile version. Its in the upper right corner of the screen on the main screen. For some reason this function is not supported by Blogger on mobile.


I encourage and welcome comments, and always try to respond, so please do so if you feel called to on a particular post. It would also be a help if, and you have my permission, to share any posts via social media (which I am not on) or other channels, RSS, etc. I would ask if you have your own website and wish to link this blog, please reach out via the "Contact" form (which is on mobile, at the bottom, and web version, which is on the right side bar). Anything sent via the contact form I will receive by email, and am happy to respond to.

I receive zero commission or monetary compensation for anything written here; nothing is monetized. I have been blogging in some form or another (I started on MySpace!) since 2004 or so. It is a labor of compulsion, a debt to be paid to the Lord, and offered free of charge. It also gives me the freedom to write what I feel led to without having to pander to an audience, to take risks without fearing losing readership. I figure if people want to read what's here, they will, and if they don't, they won't. There's plenty of other good content out there. 

One last note: I use a nom de plume here (Paul) in lieu of my real name, though all my published articles at Catholic websites and periodicals use my real name and link to my blog. So maybe the attempt at anonymity is an illusion, but it helps me to at least feel like what I write is only about me in as much as I use my faith, family, and conversion eperiences as subject matter for material. All glory belongs to God. 

Thank you for your readership, and I hope to hear from you at some point. 


Paul


Christian Hope In The Face Of Old Age, Disease, And Death

 As some readers may know, my path to Christianity was circumspent, and began with the discovery of the Four Noble Truths, the "Creed" of Buddhism. It goes something like this:


1. All life is suffering (our undisputable state of being)

2. Suffering is caused by desire/attachment (the cause of that state of being)

3. There is an end to the cycle of suffering (the hope of cessation of the affliction)

4. The Eight-fold Path is that way (the cure for the disease)


The Four Noble Truths, from an anthropological standpoint, made sense to me at the age of seventeen. Suffering (dhukka, better translated as "dissatisfaction") for me was experiential; I lived it. Most of us experience this dissatisfaction without even realizing it--that there is, or should be, something more to this life than fleeing experiences, temporary expiation of existential loneliness, and the hamster wheel of chasing after carnal satisfactions that don't last. 

It also made sense that our chasing of these mirages of temporary respite in this life was due to the desire for permanence--a permanence which may itself be a mirage. 

One would end up a nihilist if they stopped there, but the carrot of hope--hope which is essential to human fulfillment--would encourage an inquisition into a cure, and a physician for the disease. Did one exist? Did any man ever transcend this eternal cycle of samsara, the world of illusion and desire? For Buddhists, the answer is yes, and that man was the Buddha (meaning, "one who is awake"), who achieved this permanent state of detachment and prescribed the cure for others to follow: the Eight-Fold Path (which we don't have to get into). 

Siddhārtha Gautama (who would be later known by followers as Gautama Buddha) was born in Nepal about 500 BC. He was a prince, born into a wealthy family, and lived a pampered, sheltered life as a young man. He had everything he could want or need. One day, he wandered away from the palace and encountered a sick man, an old man, and a dying man. It rocked his world, and he realized this was the eventual state of all men. 

When he encountered a holy man, he abandoned his former life and became an extreme ascetic. Neither extreme--complete indulgence, or complete denial, gave him the peace he sought. Eventually he sat under a tree (the bhodi tree) and vowed not to leave until he "woke up" from this nightmare existence. It is said this is where he achieved enlightenment (Nirvana) after 49 days of meditation, and then in an act of compassion, eventually shared this "way out" with his first disciples. 

For most Buddhists, or those who practice Buddhism, one can spend their whole life trying to achieve this state, and never achieve it. The belief in reincarnation (which is, of course, incompatible with Christian soteriology/anthropology) states that one will be "reborn" into other states after death (human and non-human), and will continue in this cycle for all eternity until the state of Nirvana is achieved and they are finally freed from the hampster wheel of desire. 

* * *

Christians are not (or should not be, at least) religious syncretists. Buddhist practice is incompatible with Christian belief, and should not be encouraged. That doesn't mean, however, that there are not some commonalities in the human condition. With regards to the Four Noble Truths of Existence for a Buddhist outlined agove, a Christian may find some overlap and truth (small 't') here as they relate to this "problem" of old age, disease and death. 

Modern man suffers because of his attachments to an idea of permanence in this life--that the one-night stand will satisfy the desire for love or physical pleasure; that the discomfort of want can be satisfied by food or drink or technology; that the people we care about will not die or leave us; that we will live forever. We chase these transitory pleasures, these mirages, and tell ourselves "this time, it will last." But it doesn't, and never will. 

St. Augustine knew this state intimately, and wandered himself in the desert of carnal desire, learning, and esoteric philosophy looking for an oasis that wasn't a mirage. What he found was the gospel (the Word), and, ultimately, the Way (which is Christ).  

Like all Christians (and unlike disciples of Buddha), Augustine found that the path to transcendence of our mortal, corrupt state did not rest in his own abilities or determination, but in the God-man Christ. In conquering death by death, and in his great compassion and love for mankind allowing us to share in his divinity by partaking in our humanity, Christ did what no mortal man could do--restore us to friendship with God the Creator and give us eternal life after we pass from this world. It is grace, not self-determination, that frees us from the bondage of sin and redeems our fallen nature. For the Buddhist in their philosophical/religious world-view, your escape depends entirely on you and your efforts. For Christians, your salvation depends entirely on Christ and faith in him that redemption is possible.

There is no greater contrast between a believing Christian and a secular non-believer (or lukewarm Christian) than in a hospice ward (old age), a hospital (disease), and a funeral (death). 

We know that as a result of the Fall of man, we do not and will not live forever here on earth. All men grow old, and in doing so we revert to almost an infantile state of helplessness and dependence. For the Christian who grows in wisdom and acceptance (detachment from the idea that we will or should live forever) during their earthly life, we know we are soon passing to our eternal reward. We appreciate good health, but not as an absolute, or something to be clinged to--unlike those in the world who obsess about their bodies and cardiograms. Our spiritual preparation in this life will determine how "well" we age, as St. Robert Bellarmine says, "those who live well will die well." 

For believing (Catholic) Christians, physical suffering too can be redemptive. Because Christ physically suffered as a man, we can endure our physical suffering as partakers in his nature as a man. Our physical bodies are not our permanent state of existence; it is the soul that lives forever. And yet even then, our physical bodies are not cast off like snake-skin, but will (in faith and hope) be redeemed and glorified in the resurrection of the dead. While the secular man seeks every respite from suffering and discomfort, the Christian will enter into his suffering and offer it up in union with Christ's, and for the salvation of souls.

And because Death was conquered once and for all by Christ on the cross, the believing Christian should have no fear of death. His sentence, should he die in a state of grace and penitent, is Life, and life eternal. Christians in this state of being do not despair at the end of this earthly life, or shudder at the thought of being "reincarnated" into some lower level of existence, but rejoice in entering into eternal reward in Heaven with the communion of saints. Funerals, then, are somber but joyful affairs for the believing Christian when one has this faith, hope, and assurance, while their secular counterparts struggle to make sense of where a man goes after he dies.  

For the Christian believer, the Way is not a formula or a prescription, but the man Christ himself who opened the door to Heaven for us to join him there in spiritual union. The way out of dissatisfaction, craving, and transcendence does not depend on meditating our way to perfection, but in abandoning ourselves to the man Christ who offers by the free gift of grace an exit and assurance of salvation. We are not to be reborn in perpetuity, but redeemed eternally, both body and soul. It is in faith, hope, and charity that we devote ourselves to this Way, working out our salvation with joyful anticipation for what awaits us after old age, disease, and death. 

Saturday, July 9, 2022

Divorce Is Short-Sighted Suicide


I met with a buddy who is going through a divorce the other day for a few beers at the riverfront. He is not a Christian, nor is his wife, but he is a good friend. It's a typical story--his wife was not "happy" and sought happiness in the arms of someone else, probably as a sabotage "out"--and the divorce proceedings are pretty typical as well: mediation, division of assets, custody arrangement, etc. He was blindsighted and gutted at first, but is now accepting, dating and trying to get his finances in order, find a place to live, etc. I had given him a copy of my friend Leila's Impossible Marriages Redeemed about the story of people who have been through similar circumstances, but with the help of grace stood on their vows. It didn't make a difference in the end, as I expected. Most people who have decided on ending their marriages have their minds made up. 

As Christians, we should love what the Lord loves, and hate what He hates. And God hates divorce.

“For I hate divorce,” says the Lord, the God of Israel, “and him who covers his garment with violence,” says the Lord of armies. “So be careful about your spirit, that you do not deal treacherously.” (Mal 2:16)

Divorce is violent. It may not seem like it in otherwise "amicable" parting of ways. But you can't tear asunder what was seared together without violence.

Jesus tells the Jews, “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning" (Mt 19:8). His disciples are taken aback, and reply “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry" (Mt 19:10). 

Which is exactly what many Millenials are doing today. 

While it is true that the U.S. divorce rate has dropped eighteen percent from 2008 to 2016, Millenials co-habitating rather than tying the knot has contributed to this. The shocking fact is that the rate of divorce has more than doubled for people over 50 since 1990. These are people who should be entering the "golden years" of their lives and growing old together, but instead are abadonding their vows and inducing a surge in the rate of so-called "gray divorce."

One might think it admirable that divorcing after the kids a grown is a merciful act of love for children, but as my friend Leila also details in her previous book, Primal Loss: The Now-Adult Children of Divorce Speak, it's anything but. Adult children are as much if not more blindsided and affected by this betrayal. The pain and adverse effects are very real, but often pushed down and suppressed. It's "supposed" to be ok. It's supposed to be normal. 

But it's not. What's normal is making vows, staying true to them til death, and working through the crap life throws at you together, not abandoning ship. That's what vows are for--otherwise they are meaningless. There may be circumstances in which staying married may not be possible, but in many situations divorce, like contraception and abortion, is the tempting "out" based in convenience, not threats to life or well-being.

There are the spiritual elements of divorce--especially when one chooses to remarry and enter into adulterous relationships rather than remain divorce and remarried. But marriage is not a wholly spiritual affair. There are pragmatic considerations in getting married, and pragmatic considerations in getting divorced. One of which is financial. 

It shouldn't be underestimated, either. In these so-called "gray divorces," wealth drops by around 50%, and the standard of living for women plunges 45%. U.S. women 63 and older who went through a gray divorce have a poverty rate of 27%, more than any other group at that age, including widows, and nine times the rate of couples who stay married (3%). Not to mention the effects on health, depression, and the increased risk of suicide.   

Divorce is short-sighted, because, like suicide, we only see the pain and hardships we are in in the moment and can't see out. When presented with an "out" like taking one's life or ending one's marriage, most people will take it if anything to alleviate their short-term pain and feelings of being trapped. Our society is not comfortable with suffering. Maybe we should not hand someone a gun when they say they are feeling hopeless. 

No-fault divorce is this gun. Like drugs, it is a scourge on our society. It does not inspire virtue, does not teach delayed-gratification, does not inspire selflessness or endurance. Also like drugs, it is presented as a way to alleviate one's pain. But it only presents more problems, more unhappiness, and more sense of loss in the end. 

Friday, July 8, 2022

Success And Failure In the Christian Life


 People often wonder why those with "everything" in this worldly life--money, success, recognition--would end their lives, or fall into depression or loneliness, or turn to drugs or alcohol. These are sometimes seen as "first world problems" by those who struggle with things like putting enough food on the table, or political instability, or violence. 

For the Christian, this should be obvious--we were not made for this world, and as St. Augustine famously said, "our hearts are restless, until they rest in you" (ie, the "God-shaped hole"). It's why I am deeply suspicious of and find offensive the "health and wealth" prosperity gospel, as well as, to a degree, Christian Nationalism. "God alone" should be our anthem, and all else secondary and subject to the first clause. 

Erik Erikson is the oft-quoted psychologist who laid out our human needs in eight fundamental stages (Theory of Psycho-Social Development). Interestingly, each stage of human development is judged in terms of "success" and "failure," and advancement to subsequent stages is predicated upon "success" in each stage. If an infant "fails" to develop trust in the early years of development, this will thwart their ability to be move on and be "successful" in the next stage (Autonomy/Shame) and harbor fear and axiety in the present stage of psycho-social retardation. 

In the Christian life, this development is somewhat inverted. When we put God first, and turn ourselves over completely to His divine will (loving God with our whole heart, mind, strength, and soul), our human needs for affirmation, bodily fulfillment, and industry are subjugated. We find ourselves able to not only endure loneliness, hunger, and poverty, but thrive and find joy despite these earthly misfortunes. We do not find God by setting ourselves up in comfort and security, having all our needs met at which point we can seek Him. We are essentially working backwards by putting "first things first," first of which is God. 

Of course, this first "stage" of abandonment can only take place by the virtue of humility (which comes by way of unmerited grace), the bedrock and cornerstone for all other virtues to build upon. What does humility entail? Admitting that we have "failed" to be masters of our own destiny; failed to find happiness in this life; failed to overcome concupisence and be "good" on our own.

Of course complete abandonment to the Divine Will (the Unitive) does not happen in the initial stages of Christian spiritual development. It is hardly achieved by even the most ardent Christians here on earth in this life, even after years of prayer and mortification of the senses. As long as we live, we will be continually falling and failing. We may have momentary periods of virtue or fortitude, but we are quickly snapped back like a rubberband into lives of selfishness and egotism. We can get stuck in this "purgative" stage, for years even, when we know what we ought to do, but find our will weak and unformed. 

For those who do learn self-mastery, the "illumantive" stage that follows is one marked by trial and testing, demanding continual growth and eschewing resting on one's laurels. Detachment, prayer, mortification...these are not easy things to maintain. It is called the "exercise" of the will for a reason, and this period of testing of one's intentions and motivations to move closer to God is not always uniform. We are aided along the way by grace, via consolations, but may also experience great desolations as a means of testing before advancement to the final stage, that of the "unitive" stage.

We sometimes neglect to realize that prayer, and the practice of virtue, are really habits. The more one habituates to discomfort, to prayer, to solitude and contemplation, to charity, the more it becomes second-nature. The unitive stage is marked by this "habit" which was developed in the Illumanative stage, and results in a continuous union in which one is not pre-occupied with their suffering, but transformed by it in light of the Divine Presence. This is not easily achieved, and is the mark of saints.

We have to ask ourselves "why?" though. Why do so few achieve this state, the most natural state of being for creatures created by God. The Lord certainly gives freely to all who ask for the grace to live totally for him, who knock in order to find Him (Mt 7:8). He bestows on us aid through the Sacraments, and arms us with sacramentals to fight against our selfish-nature and transcend our mortal senses and deficiencies. Grace is transformative, but it does depend on the co-operation of the will, and faith. This is why Christ could not work many miracles in Nazareth, because of the people's unbelief (Mt 13:58). If we do not become saints, we must be honest--it is because we did not wish to bad enough, or we lacked the faith that God could make it possible for us.

This is why the Cross is the ultimate sign of contradiction to the world. Christian perfection demands it, that we take up our own cross in order to follow him (Mt 16:24). It is also why the crucifixion is the ultimate "failure" in the lower order, the world--it failed to achieve the immediate restoration of Israel; it failed to spare Christ from bodily death; it failed to ensure that his followers would be spared from suffering and death themselves. 

Even today, the Cross does not promise "health and wealth." It does not promise to make sure all of our worldly needs are met. In fact, it often ensures that they are not, for if they were, we "may have too much and disown you and say, `Who is the LORD?'" (Prov 30:9). The Cross is truly "foolishness to those who are perishing." But to those who are being saved, it is the power of God (1 Cor 1:18).

This is why only those who persevere to the end will be saved (Mt 24:13). It does not mean we will not fall, not fail, as we make our way on the road carrying our tree. The weeds grow with the wheat, and a rolling stone gathers no moss, as the saying goes. But if the Enemy convinces us that we are only the sum total of our failures, he ceases our steps, and we do not advance but become stagnant and complacent, seeking fleeting bodily comfort, security, and the assurance of others. And then he wins. 

 It is not easy getting up time and time again after failures and setbacks in the spiritual life. It is hard, and often tiring. But isn't that the point? If sainthood was easy, everyone would achieve it. But the way to life is narrow, and few find it (Mt 7:14). As St Paul says, "to live is Christ, and to die is gain" (Phil 1:12). 

Our development as Christians is not about satisfying our own human needs or on achieving external milestones, but continually dying to self and living for Christ so that he might live in us. It does not depend completely on our own self-determination, but works in co-operation with grace, a grace freely given when asked for. The Lord did not, and will not, leave us orphans. Our failures in the world should always be seen in the light of Christ, and in the shadow cast by the cross. The fools who live for Christ will be the ones laughing in Heaven when this world has come to pass. 

Thursday, July 7, 2022

The Laying On Of Hands And The Sins Of The Father

One of the great challenges for new Catholics and those coming back to the faith is the kind of cognitive dissonant tightrope one has to walk to reconcile seemingly disparagent elements of the faith. For the early Christians, especially during the Arian controversy, it was Christological: how can Christ be both man and God? In the post-Constantine era, it was "how are Christians to live as servants of God and subjects of the State?" In our present generation, the tension often comes down to the question of "how can the Church be called Holy when Her body is a rotting quagmire of corruption and filth?" Such a proposal is not only offensive for those who have been touched by the sullied cloth personally, but can often create a visceral gagging on the bone of hypocrisy. 

Once when I was doing street evangelization, I encountered a man who held nothing but contempt for the fact that we were out there, trying to spread the Good News of the gospel. It wasn't the Good News, of course, but the fact that we were regarded as agents of the Church, peddling rotten sacks of potatoes as healthy nourishment. It became clear after a few minutes of vitirol that his objections to our being there (and the Church as a whole) were not objective or theoretical in nature, but deeply personal. Although he didn't state it outright, I would wager this was a man who was himself Catholic and who was deeply wounded and scandalized by the abuse crisis within the Church and could not reconcile the reality of this abuse with anything good coming from it. I would even wager he may have been a victim of abuse himself at the hands of the Church. 

There is a saying that goes something like this, "Satan takes what is beautiful and tries to make it ugly. God takes what is ugly and makes it beautiful." I see so much beauty in the cleansing power of Christ to forgive sins, to restore our dignity as men, and to welcome us into his Kingdom. And yet, this often comes in the guise of having to look past the abject corruption oozing out of seemingly every pore in the Body of Christ, His Bride the Church here on earth. 

This is one of those posts where I'm reticent to "go there," in bringing something to light that may be best hidden or unspoken. I hope to do so delicately, but I may fail in that to convey the point. And the point is this: the smoke of Satan which has infiltrated the Church over the last century has mingled with the filth of the world to the degree that even the most beautiful aspects of Her mission has the potential to be corrupted in the minds of the faithful. Perhaps this is just me, some psychological perversion that I would be wise to keep to myself. For the more innocent among us, it may scandalize. For that, I will apologize in advance and perhaps even warn you not to read further. 

The thing people don't realize about the sins of the flesh beyond the obvious is that it perverts our vision of what is true, what is beautiful, and what is real even subconsciously. This is why it's hard to stomach what people like Joseph Sciambra try to convey in graphic detail about gayness--that beyond the Will & Grace persona, homosexuality is an ugly, painful, unnatural, and messy affair. It is also why, when I was evangelizing with him at the Pride festival in San Francisco a few years back, there was an overt religious ethos among the half-naked men gyrating on floats while wearing angel wings next to drag queens dressed as nuns (the so-called "Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence"). Satan loves to take what is holy and beautiful and make it ugly and profane. 

Because of the sexual abuse within the Church, and the atrocities commited by clergy in terms of pederasty and pedophilia, there has been a kind of spiritual and psychic-searing, the way one's eyelids may be fused shut if they get too close to an nine hundred degree oven. In those who have suffered such abuse at the hands of clergy, there is only one word that can qualify it: spiritual murder. It is the death of the soul, because it is a kind of death when one is raped or abused, but at the hands of clergy, it is not only a death but a deformation. How can anyone who has suffered like this be expected to show up for Mass next Sunday and sit through a homily by a man of the cloth without becoming physically ill (which is what Joseph has described experiencing).

This excerpt from Nikos Kazantzakis' Zorba the Greek has stayed with me after reading it decades ago, and may help illustrate this picture of deformation:

"I recalled one dawn when I had chanced upon a butterfly’s cocoon in a pine tree at the very moment when the husk was breaking and the inner soul was preparing to emerge. I kept waiting and waiting; it was slow and I was in a hurry. Leaning over it, I began to warm it with my breath. I kept warming it impatiently until the miracle commenced to unfold before my eyes at an unnatural speed. The husk opened completely; the butterfly came out. But never shall I forget my horror: its wings remained curled inward, not unfolded. The whole of its minuscule body shook as it struggled to spread the wings outward. But it could not. As for me, I struggled to aid it with my breath. In vain. What it needed was to ripen and unfold patiently in sunlight. Now it was too late. My breath had forced the butterfly to emerge ahead of time, crumpled and premature. It came out undeveloped, shook desperately, and soon died in my palm.

This butterfly’s fluffy corpse is, I believe, the greatest weight I carry on my conscience. What I understood deeply on that day was this: to hasten eternal rules is a mortal sin. One’s duty is confidently to follow nature’s everlasting rhythm."


The sin here is not actually in forcing something to "emerge ahead of time," but that it should never have been forced at all. When innocence is stolen, it can never be brought back to life. It is eternally crippled, and can only be healed by the divine hand who created it in the first place. I don't think the weight of such sin can be overstated. It is why our Lord uses the imagery of a millstone. Millstones are giant. Were it to be tied around one's neck on their way to the bottom of the sea, it wouldn't just be a swift trip down. It would snap your neck like a twig in the first second due to the weight. And that quick death would be a merciful fate when compared to the judgement being rendered after death.

If the priesthood is the image of Christ as servant, it is to be holy. When it is not holy, not true to its calling, it perverts the image of Christ in the minds of the innocent. Such a weight of responsibility should make every man shudder, but especially God's chosen--his priests. The good ones recognize this, and in prayer and fasting, do their best to live out their calling in integrity. But like I said, Satan loves to make what is beautiful and holy, ugly and profane. 

Which is why when I witness the humble beauty of the laying on of hands during an ordination, I want to see what is true, what is humbling, what is beautiful and full of grace. But there is also the fallen part of me, all too familiar with our fallen world and the perversity of the flesh, that experiences a flash of what the abuse within the Church has wrought.

Because that very act of the ancient rite of laying on of hands in consecration has been abused and perverted in the laying on of hands of young men and young women, of children by way of the most heinous act of sodomy, which cries to Heaven for vengence.


You don't have to be a father of young children as I am to be repulsed by even the thought of such abuse, whether it occurs in the sacristy, the confessional, or some sordid bath or beach house. And if I were a more innocent person--one who had never swam in the rank waters of pornographic websites and voluntarily viewed things I can never unsee--this kind of flash imagry might not come to mind. I take ownership of that sin, and write about it now not because of how uncommon or rare it is, but of how pervasive and commonplace, how pernicious and virulent. Were I a more innocent person, I may not be so uncomfortable when I see a young priest kneeling before a bishop as the elder lays his hands atop his head at waist level. Were I more ignorant of the sordid realities of what happens in some seminaries, in some chanceries, in some diocesan retreat houses, the thought might never cross my mind.

But I read. I read about the McCarricks--one among many who have taken the image of Christ the High Priest and desecrated it by their lurid acts of sacrilege. And maybe it's better I don't read, keep my head in the sand like an ostrich. So that when I see a laying on of hands in an ordination, I don't "go there," if even for a moment, in my imagination. Can I say there's no grounds for such imaginations? These wolves in sheeps clothing have not only made the unthinkable a reality, but they even deny that they have commited the worst sacrilege--spiritual murder--compounded by their seeming lack of repentence or compunction. They shift blame, or deflect to protect assets. When in reality, they are perverts no parent of good conscience would leave their children with for even a second

I think it goes without saying that I am blessed to know many good priests, men of honor and integrity that would hold as abhorrent such stains upon the Church just as I do. And many of them know too that as priests, they have a target on their back--not by the culture, or the media, but by Satan himself.  They realize that if they are not fortified in prayer and fasting, continually living lives of virtue and accountability, they too may find themselves compromised if not careful. The spiritual war being waged against priests by the agents of evil is a reality. Even good men fall, when they never thought they would. It is no joke. Listen to what Our Lady (of Good Success) warns:

"The devil will work to persecute the ministers of the Lord in every way, working with baneful cunning to destroy the spirit of their vocation and corrupting many. Those who will thus scandalize the Christian flock will bring upon all priests the hatred of bad Christians and the enemies of the One, Holy, Roman Catholic, and Apostolic Church. This apparent triumph of Satan will cause enormous suffering to the good pastors of the Church…and to the Supreme Pastor and Vicar of Christ on earth who, a prisoner in the Vatican, will shed secret and bitter tears in the presence of God Our Lord, asking for light, sanctity, and perfection for all the clergy of the world, to whom he is King and Father.”

“Unhappy times will come wherein those who should fearlessly defend the rights of the Church will instead, blinded despite the light, give their hand to the Church’s enemies and do their bidding. But when [evil] seems triumphant and when authority abuses its power, committing all manner of injustice and oppressing the weak, their ruin shall be near. They will fall and crash to the ground.

“In those times the atmosphere will be saturated with the spirit of impurity which, like a filthy sea, will engulf the streets and public places with incredible license.… Innocence will scarcely be found in children."


As a married man, every act of intimacy with my wife demands chastity of mind, body, and heart. To the extent I am running through fantasies in my mind with strangers, playing things out I have viewed online in the past, I am in sin and sinning against my own flesh--that is, my wife, whom I have vowed to be true and faithful to til death. As a married man, I am called to complete and total chastity. This conversion of heart and mind is hard, but it is not impossible. The Lord can heal our memories. He can keep us present in the marital act. We can cooperate with grace by the exercise of the will with regards to chastity. 

For the priest, he must overcome not only his own sins, but must surpass the sins and failings of his predecessors. As the Lord says, "your righteousness must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees" (Mt 5:20). “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. So you must be careful to do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach" (Mt 23:2-3). "Woe to the world because of scandals. For it must needs be that scandals come: but nevertheless woe to that man by whom the scandal cometh" (Mt 18:7). 

What does a good father say when his child is in danger. Don't you lay a hand on him! What does a good Father do when the Lord wishes to multiply his spiritual progeny? He lays hands on him in the rite. What does a spiritual and physical abuser, when he is a man of the cloth, do to corrupt a youth, an innocent. He does just that--lays hands on him. How confusing it must be, how much torment must that innocent endure, to try to reconcile these violations by consecrated hands to keep his spirit in tact! Truly, it is almost beyond one's strength, were it not for the potential for divine healing by the Man whose integrity was never in question--Christ himself--who can make all things new, heal the brokenhearted, and restore dignity to those who have been robbed of it. 

Shame on this perverse generation. Shame on the men of God who have been corrupted by Satan and plundered the innocent. I pray they receive their due in God's just Judgement. 

But shame on us men, too, who perpetuate this seemingly unending roll of digital film through secret indulgence, through hidden sin. There is no victimless crime, no untouched region of the mind and body when it comes to unchastity. We wonder why not only the world, but the Church is in the state it is in. The smoke of Satan has entered. The only antidote is complete and total chastity, and the development of an absolute abhorrence of sin, as St. Paul says, "let there not be even a HINT of sexual immorality among you" (Eph 5:3). 

Heal our minds, Lord, and restore our innocence, so that we do not give what is holy to the dogs. Restore your priesthood, so that we see what is beautiful and holy for what it is, with innocence of heart. Restore our hearts and minds, rip up the soiled carpet of our hidden transgressions, so that we might repent of our misdeeds and perversity rather than burying them and buidling churches upon graveyard of inequity.  Let our righteousness exceed those of the scribes and Pharisees, and may our penance atone for their  sordid abominations, for the sake of our children, and our priests to come.