Letter To Boniface

Boniface,

I hope it's ok I write to you--not related to writing or Catholicism directly, but just as one early-forties Catholic guy to another. I don't know why I thought you might be able to relate or understand, but taking a chance you might.

By the way, I read the Matt Foley piece you had on USC, and it almost moved me to tears as well. I grew up in the nineties on SNL in it's heyday and loved Chris Farley and had a soft-spot for him, but mostly it touched me because of the gritty struggle; addiction is such a tenacious mf; having a 25 year nicotine addiction myself, which I just recently stopped cold turkey a month ago (not the first time, but hopefully the last), I know that feeling of shame, dejection, and feeling like maybe you're never really in the clear. I have always recognized how dependent I am on grace, and take to heart the words of St. Paul to the Corinthians, "take heed, lest you fall." I come from a sinful past, not the grittiest but not the prettiest either; in any case, it doesn't matter much how it compares to others. We are all slaves bought with blood, ransomed when we had no power to lift ourselves from the miry well we had fallen in.

One thing I have been struggling with is a bubbling over, frothing disgust almost which lately the devil seems to be capitalizing on. Beneath the surface, I think, is disappointment--feeling like no matter what I do in the faith, my kids will cede to the culture and apostatize. That no matter how lonely I am in my faith walk, no amount of friendships will plug that hole (which is reserved for God alone). And even just the disappointment with my men's group, and how my expectations for things that last are maybe the cause, when in most cases they just can't sustain themselves over the years and fade away. I have a very Augustinian heart, and find that even as my faith and prayer life is deepening, that my disgust with the world and the things in it has been increasing. I find myself wearied by life, and praying for a swift and early death.

But, I cannot hate my brother(s) and still love God, as scripture says; for I would be a liar. I feel in my bones this tension of needing community, social things, being able to lean on people, and being disgusted with this need, seeing it as a kind of weakness. And yet, solitude which may be deepening for my prayer life and faith, is hard to bear for long periods of time. In this limbo, there's tension rather than peace, like I'm on a kind of rack where my limbs get stretched til they pop their sockets. 

Part of that disgust bleeds over into my own trad circle--a kind of self-righteousness and insularity that doesn't go outside itself. I find I have this calling, it seems, to do the corporal as well as the spiritual works of mercy, as it is what we will be judged on (our charity): feeding the poor, clothing the naked, visiting the sick. I used to do all these things as a "normie" Catholic (I have been trying to get back to the prison where I ministered to inmates, but the prison used COVID as an excuse to continue to close things down to visitors), and yet I see none of this intentionally spoken about or prioritized by the traditionalists in my circle. Maybe they do, and I just don't see it. But I'm afraid of how I will be sentenced at the judgment for my resting on the "well, trads don't do that stuff, that's for SJW normie Catholics, we pray our rosary and attend the TLM which is more efficacious" mentality. 

When I think of my judgment, in fact, I shudder, and I'm not even being dramatic. I'm doing all the "right things"--daily rosary, half hour mental prayer a day, First Friday/First Saturday, Mass, adoration, spiritual reading, etc. And yet I know that kind of perfection of the saints is a long way off due to my selfish nature, unwillingness to suffer, lack of charity to my neighbor, self-love, sins of the tongue, etc. I have no hope but by grace, and I'm not even joking. 

I am so incredibly lonely, despite the fact that I have lots of friends and a great wife and family. I realize, too, I don't really have the grounds to complain about being lonely either given all that. But there's just something gnawing at me, a kind of sadness at this constant liminality of the relationships I do have. I have been hoping this longing would lead me into a greater depth of prayer, but again, it foments into disgust with the world, and yet lacking the sweet consolation of the spiritual. I just have this tension, and sense of loss, and disgust with myself and the fact that what I want from others I can't even actualize in myself for their sake--that is, selflessness, and being there for others when they most need it.

I realize my disposition is more of a female nature--again, it goes back to this disgust at this seeming need to have connection with other people, to share deeply, to love and be loved fraternally...and yet for most of the guys I interact with, this just isn't a thing or a need for them. Most are content to just work and be with their families, and I should be too as a man. But I'm not, for whatever reason. Maybe that longing for the things that will never be in this world is what keeps pushing us closer to God, who can and does satisfy these unfillable longings, and THAT is their purpose. I can't connect with women (because it's not appropriate to my state in life) and I can't connect with men (because of this deficiency in need) and so I try to connect with God in this deep, strange sadness and it's just...silence. The dark silent host that doesn't speak, doesn't affirm, but just IS.

I've gone on long enough. Apologies in advance for laying this on you. I just thought maybe you might understand some of this "wrestling with the angel" and having your hip popped out of socket. 

God bless you, and take care.

R