My Worst NYE Ever

New Year's Eve is my least favorite holiday. Everything about it feels forced, like going to Disney World and feeling compelled to have a good time because you've spent so much money to get there and everyone tells you you have to. I don't go out anymore at my age, but when I did in my twenties and thirties I always found myself feeling out of place, drunk, and alone. 

By far, the worst (but most memorable) New Year's Eve was spent in New Zealand. The year before while going to school abroad at VUW for a semester, I had fallen in love with a Samoan nurse who also happened to be an alcoholic. We began a relationship, and I had vowed to return after I graduated college--which I did, booking a flight a few months before graduation and planning to stay with her for a month. The only problem was I had, er, "fallen" (in a Romans 7:15 kind of way) with someone else while back at school stateside after booking my trip. I should have known better than to go, but I had no plan and no other accommodations other than her flat. She assured me we could remain "friends" and I should still come; but she was getting me back in the meantime by taking up with other guys before I arrived. So I was stuck between a rock and a hard place...I stayed for a day or two, but eventually it was too much and I spent the rest of that month (it was summer there) hitchhiking around the country until my flight home. Reminds me of that Noah Kahan/Post Malone song, here. 

The following journal entry was my second night in the country on that tumultuous return to New Zealand to see a girl I was no longer "together" with, and trying to salvage a New Years Eve abroad. I was 21, no longer a virgin, and essentially a vagrant 9,000 miles from home. Sin makes you stupid, but we all know that...now. But God is patient, and is waiting there for us to come home.

Anyway, enjoy. And here's to better things in 2024.

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New Years Eve, 2001

Wellington, New Zealand

Walking up the hill after going into town for cigarettes with F., I see a girl about my age with jet black hair and beautiful dark eyes swinging on a tree swing by herself. I'm struck for a minute it is so storybook-sad and touching that the whole scene seems to have a glow about it. Walking by with F., I feel like I'm wearing a cashmere coat arm in arm with a wife, walking by a homeless person...subtly ashamed. But I wave to her once, twice...wanting her to know that I've been there before and I'm here now swinging by myself TOO and that she's beautiful, but she doesn't see me. We round the bend and it's over. It was the most private special thing I've seen all day.

F. and I clear the air in the afternoon, if you can call it that. It felt like it went nowhere. she asked me to read the letters I wrote her and if I would help her burn them. "What the %#@*!? Who are you?" 

"No, it's not spiteful or anything, it's just moving on." 

Yeah. Look, I tell her, if you want to burn those letters that's something for you to do personally that I don't want any part of. Man, this is weird. She's been drinking for a couple hours now. It's four o'clock.

 

Michelle's friend Dwayne is over. 

"Whatcha drinkin mate?" he asks as I'm eating dinner on the back stoop. 

"Aw, just some milk bro," I say. 

"Yeha, good one," he laughs. 

"Nah mate, for real, it's right here. See?" 

Dwayne: "what the?..."

More people start rolling in at nine o'clock. As if i'm not having enough trouble trying to belong as it is, I've gotten it in my head that I'm not going to drink tonight. On new years eve. In a country where babies nurse on beer instead of milk. I haven't been looking forward to this party and have decided to go to midnight mass at St. Mary's.  "That's a good one mate," Dwayne says, and I smile. 

"You're serious? Come on then, have a drink." 

Nah, i'm good thanks. "Got my milk," I laugh.

 

"Yea, I'd be in church too, but the way I figure, God wants me to be having a good time. So if I'm happy, that's just like going to church, doing what God wants me to do."  I nod, trying to reason out his logic on this particular self-made form of religion. I am really looking forward to Mass--I'm getting real tired of all this.

  

I'm sitting out front talking with some of F.'s friends Ace, Benna, and Charlotte. I'm more comfortable in the company of islanders and Maori than Pakeha (Euro NZ'ers). F. is with us and she's pretty drunk. The (white) guys next door are having a party as well, I don't think she gets on with them too well. We're laughing and having a good time when we hear someone there say "damn, that girl is BLACK!" All conversation among us stops while it continues up there. I wonder if I hear right. I immediately shoot a glance to F. This has happened before and I know how she is when she's drunk. One time a guy unknowingly said something about how she looked and I had to pin her arms together and take her around back; she was going to break his nose. Now, she's out of her chair and storming upstairs. Ace and Benna laugh about it but I hear her giving her neighbors hell and I'm worried. 

When she comes down all the joy has gone out of her and she looks stepped-on and shook up. She doesn't want to let on to anyone, so I take her inside. She is cursing and crying and FUMING, like a searing wound had been opened up, and it has. I am seeing before my eyes the devastating effect one thoughtless racist remark can have on someone. She is so upset it scares me, and I'm powerless to do anything for her. It hurts to watch. I don't even have any words, I'm just...there. She's shaking with rage and hatred, and while i will never experience that kind of pain because of racism, I can see how painful it is. That hatred is so ugly I almost can't look at her it scares me too much. She knows I was planning to go to mass and looks at me with contempt. 

"Go to church," she spits. 

"No, I'm going to stay with you." 

"No, you do what you want; if you want to go, then go." I don't know what to say.

"Tell me," she asks with that fire in her eyes, "How can you go to church when the world is so %&^*?"

I pause for a minute and then look up at her. 

"I think it's BECAUSE the world is so %&^*ed that I go to church."

"Just go then..."  

I feel like a pious a-hole but know there is nothing I can do for her. God, all I want is to be with Jesus--I don't even care about the hymns or the service. It's 11:30 and the city is absolutely mad. I feel like I've been thrown in the lion's den; this is what the cities that the Desert Fathers fled from must have been like. Couple after couple weaves by arm in arm. A bottle breaks against a wall. People are yelling conversations on their cell phones in the midst of this cacophony. A girl is passed out on the sidewalk as her two friends just stand there. People dancing in the streets. A fight breaks out. I feel like I'm on a moving walkway and people are just moving on by. I'm totally sober. 

I finally get to Mass and am so tired from the walk and everything going on that I fall asleep during the Gregorian chant and when I wake up I don't know if Mass has ended or if it's just starting. People are leaving. But it ends up being the start and the service is, of course, awful and uninspiring, but I wait for Communion feeling like I've gone through so much to be here, it's all I want. 

After Communion I feel nothing, but as usual, am content knowing that I don't have to feel anything. After the service I am the only one left in the church--it is the most depressing lonely scene. I want to cry but feel no sadness to justify it. It is 1am.

New Year's has come and gone, literally. Like sex. A year's worth of anticipation and then 5-4-3-2-1...a ball-dropping 12 o'clock climax and its over. The whole world has felt the satisfaction and sadness of an arm-in-arm drunk-prom-night New Year's orgasm. Kneeling on a wooden pew, I realize I faked it.

I make my way back home down Courtney Pl. stepping over broken bottles and puddles of vomit. I wish a homeless guy on the corner a Happy New Years and he nods a bushy smile. Oriental Pd. is dark and the benches empty. I sit on the beach as the waves lap the gray sand to watch a couple make love under the full creme moon. I have never had so much reason to feel alone, and yet there is comfort in being here now. A deep heavy contentment drowns any emotional response I might have to the situation. The night has become a real-life Gospel story. A chance to see how serious I am about living my faith and simply living. I can see why some Protestants refer to themselves as 'Jesus Freaks' (though I don't like that term). God, trying to live out the Gospel DOES make you a freak--but only when compared to everything around you.

I think about my friend Z. and a conversation we had about missing out on things because of trying to live our faith to its fullest. You do. But you gain so much more. I think about Z. and life.

I sit on some steps before climbing the hill to write some. Then I hear this, "Rob!" and it's F. and Mitch running down the stairs. She's fully drunk now and wants to go dancing, though she can't even stand up straight. She wants to have a good time, all the time, and doesn't let anything stand in her way. She asks if I want to take a walk and all I want to do is go to bed, but I say yeah. We talk the long way back and I have to steady her the whole time. Then she wants to pass out on a bench in the middle of the woods. I hate her when she's like this--probably why I didn't drink tonight. I think about all those wives with alcoholic husbands and the things they go through.

We get home and she wants to lay in the backyard, so I decide she's fine and say a quick hello to everyone still going strong, and retire to the refuge of my room. It's 4am. What a freaking night. I rang in the New Year sober, alone, and in church--It is the most blessed one I can remember.

St. Mary of the Angels, Wellington, New Zealand

Christmas in America (1988)--Day 7 of the Octave of Christmas

 "This is supposed to be Paradise," Curtis Battle thinks to himself as he stares out the windshield of his car. Palm trees sway next to luxury high rises just a hundred yards from where he has parked his car here in Venice Beach. Clothes and various non-descript wrappers and other things you would usually put out to trash are piled high behind the driver's seat, confining the passengers to the front seats; they are not presents or wrapping paper, for there were no presents this year. He has been out of work for four months and nothing on the horizon seems promising. Next to him, dressed in a matching grey-and-maroon flannel shirt, is Cynthia holding one-year old Brandon, her son. Like the edges of Curtis's fingernails, Brandon's split-pea green onesie is soiled and pilled. His mother balances a styrofoam plate of fried chicken on her knee--Christmas dinner--as some small candy canes dangle from the rear view mirror. The inside of the car, like their skin, is dark while the California sun shines outside as it does every day here in L.A. He's doing his best to keep this family together but he isn't sure where the next meal will come from, though he's grateful for the one they received at the Mission downtown today--a temporary respite from uncertainty. "Battle," he thinks to himself about his namesake, "Every day is a battle." Maybe he'll find work next week after the holidays, maybe an apartment. Maybe next year, the New Year, things will be different.

       

Christmas in America (1988)--Day 5 of the Octave of Christmas

 Karen Horger had never been to the Holy Land. But while sitting on a rock at 5,000 feet above sea level resting her feet on a carpet of scrag and wispy amber tufts of grass, she imagined Christ's ascent up Mount Sinai or perched overlooking Jerusalem. The five mile pilgrimage to the top of Tortuga Mountain to pay homage to Our Lady of Guadalupe on her feast day was not met at the end with a festival or a church tour for her and the other 1,500 pilgrims, but simply the chance to be a few miles closer to Heaven, wrapped in silence. The quiotes fashioned from yucca stalks that she holds now always reminded her of something John the Baptist would be found with--an archetype of the simplicity and barrenness of the desert. Her head is wrapped loosely with a bed scarf, partly as a pious act and more practically to offer some warmth from the December wind. The snaking Rio Grande and the small town of Las Cruces are far below her like a distant memory; but soon the pilgrims will descend to return to the world. Just as Moses built memorial altar of memorial on his ascent up Mount Sinai and Joshua on Mount Ebal, the pilgrims descend before sunset but not before lighting up the mountain with bonfires on the way down. For those who have been in darkness have seen a great light. 

 

Christmas In America (1988)--Day 4 of the Octave of Christmas

 Snow laps up against the white clapboard side of St. Rose's church like a wave, it's powdery crest settling waist-high like a foothill. The Gothic arch of the twelve foot window safely above betrays itself simplicity--the glass is clear and frosted, but not stained, a limp strand of tinsel and ornaments floating from the top; the flaking weathered paint matches the snow beneath it. Here on the plain nature is adorned, not the churches. But the light comes from within, as they say, and as the harsh winter sun sets in Soldier Creek over the South Dakota horizon the pale golden light of the sanctuary is all that illumines the face of Myrtis Walking Eagle. He is seated by the window, his elbow resting on the sill, listening to the sermon but with the familiar air of teenage detachment. His parents cannot be seen--he could just as well be a runaway alone on Christmas Eve as he could be a sibling of seven. Or perhaps he is glad to be here as a one hour respite from his home on the reservation. His face is polite but stoic, his gaze far away. His ancestors were here before the Christians ever came to this land. He thinks about them, how they would receive this message of God made man in a child from foreign missionaries, this foreign religion which is all he has ever known.

Christmas In America (1988)

Every year at Christmas from the time I was eight years old, my parents would pull out a book of photography titled Christmas in America and place it on the living room coffee table. I remember laying on the floral print love seat and leafing through the large 10"x20" book (which was about 200 pages) which was a snapshot of our country from Thanksgiving to Epiphany by one hundred of the nation's foremost photojournalists. I grew to love photojournalism, even though I had no knack for photography. Year after year, I would look through one page at a time, and those photographs of places I had never been to and cultures and religions I had never experienced began to develop in the darkroom of my mind.  

Since my wife was working overnights Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, we visited my parents this evening and we were all lamenting about how our digital iPhone photos just kind of live on our phone or on the Cloud and we never really look at them the way we used to look at photo albums. There's something about a book or a physical photograph that seems like something from a bygone era, but is nonetheless real, tangible, physical. Not only that, but the currency of photographs has been devalued in the digital era, because there's just so many of them.

After dinner, I wandered into the family room and I noticed the Christmas in America book on their coffee table, and like a kid in the 1980's again, I dangled my legs over the love seat (now leather) and flipped through page by page. Before we left for the evening I asked my mom if I could take the book home with me.

I had wanted to do a "Year in Pictures" post on this blog as I had done last year; my intention was to share the intimate photographs from Christmas in America, but as an artist myself who has become increasingly sensitive to attribution and copyrights, I couldn't bring myself to do so as much as I was tempted to. 

Instead, I thought I would use it as a writing exercise, to describe the various scenes from my childhood memories in words of a day in the life of Americans on Christmas Day--one per day for the eight days of the Octave. Since I am taking a graduate non-fiction seminar course this Spring at the university where I work (I've never taken an English course besides COM101 and a Creative Writing course as an undergrad), I figured it would be a good warm up for the semester. And we used to do these kinds of exercises at The Writer's Room where I used to frequent in my hometown, painting a picture with words: "Here's an orange on a table. Now write!"

So without further adieu, here's to Christmas in America in the late 1980's.

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(1)

The rectory at St. Vladimir's is still, a harbor and outpost from the frantic outside world. A wooden icon of Christ Pantocrator perches upon a corner shelf above the head of Father Boris Kizenko who is silently reading the holy scriptures before him at a simple table covered with a blue and white checked tablecloth. His long, smooth gray hair is tucked neatly behind his large earlobes; his beard, meanwhile, is a thousand frazzled strands bound into a gray tuft blanket that covers his chin and obscures the large gold chain around his neck. His thick hands--which would be just as suited to swinging a sledgehammer or operating a forklift on the docks--rest holding the large book before him. One might think he was asleep, but he is not; he has entered into the Mystery, immersed in the Psalms and the work of prayer while those in the town of Cassville, New Jersey outside the rectory door are running and grasping and swiping and panting. The pages of his Bible are large, thick, aged with a yellow hue, the immortal words of the Patriarch jet black like Father Boris' cassock.The corner of the book is worn and exposed like a flesh burn, for this is no decorative book for display. Year after year, on Christmas Day, January 6th, he sits down to recall the story of salvation that has sprung from the root of Jesse. 

Faith Seeking Understanding

One thing I think a lot of people in the normie Catholic world fail to recognize is that the Holy Father Pope Francis did not emerge from a vacuum. One can point to him being a Latin American from Argentina, or a post-conciliar modernist, a classic "progressive," or a religious sympathetic to socialism or Liberation Theology as to why we have the pontificate we do. While all these things are true, you are in for a world of hurt and massive frustration if you fail to recognize that understanding the political ideology of Peronism is essential to understanding the machinations coming forth from the chair of Peter from 2014 to present. 

I think what's also helpful to mention is that in doing so, you may find a sense of relief akin to someone suffering from ADHD or autism or borderline personality disorder receiving a diagnosis from a psychiatrist--"finally," you may say to yourself, "my life up to now finally makes sense." Indeed, to be quite honest, I think understanding the current pontificate in general and Pope Francis in particular in the light of Peronism is the only thing that makes sense over the past ten years of leadership in the Catholic Church. 

Juan Domingo Perón served as President of Argentina from 1946 until his overthrow in 1955. When he took office running on a Labour party ticket (though he eventually formed his own "Peronist Party" which replaced it in 1947), Perón's two stated goals were social justice and economic independence. Theologian Herold Weiss recalled, that 

"Perón opposed the universities, which questioned his methods and his goals. A well-remembered slogan was, Alpargatas sí, libros no ("Shoes? Yes! Books? No!")"

Political commentators have noted that the rule of Perón was a kind of Italian fascism baptized in the waters of Latin America. Perón ruled by violence and various forms of dictatorship. He faced opposition from the Socialist Party; Perón called employers and unions to a Productivity Congress to regulate social conflict through dialogue (sound familiar?)

There is a degree of hubris as well, since on 20 August 1948--less than two years after taking office--he sought to articulate his self-named political ideology in a speech.  He starts right out of the gate:

"Perónism is not learned, nor just talked about: one feels it or else disagrees. Perónism is a question of the heart rather than of the head. Fortunately I am not one of those Presidents who live a life apart, but on the contrary I live among my people, just as I have always lived; so that I share all the ups and downs, all their successes and all their disappointments with my working class people."

In Argentina there should not be more than one single class of men: men who work together for the welfare of the nation, without any discrimination whatever." 

Likewise, on 17 October 1950 in a speech at the Plaza de Mayo, he outlined his “Twenty Truths of the Perónist Justicialism” (particular emphasis mine, in bold)

1. True democracy is the system where the Government carries out the will of the people defending a single objective: the interests of the people.

2. Perónism is an eminently popular movement. Every political clique is opposed to the popular interests and, therefore, it cannot be a Perónist organization.

3. A Perónist must be at the service of the cause. He who invoking the name of this cause is really at the service of a political clique or a “caudillo” (local political leader) is only a Perónist by name.

4. There is only one class of men for the Perónist cause: the workers.

5. In the New Argentina, work is a right which dignifies man and a duty, because it is only fair that each one should produce at least what he consumes.

6. There can be nothing better for a Perónist than another Perónist.

7. No Perónist should presume to be more than he really is, nor should he adopt a position inferior to what his social status should be. When a Perónist starts to think that he is more important than he really is, he is about to become one of the oligarchy.

8. With reference to political action the scale of values for all Perónists is as follows: First, the Homeland; afterwards the cause, and then, the men themselves.

9. Politics do not constitute for us a definite objective but only a means of achieving the Homeland’s welfare represented by the happiness of the people and the greatness of the nation.

10. The two main branches of Perónism are the Social Justice and the Social Welfare. With these we envelop the people in an embrace of justice and love.

11. Perónism desires the establishment of national unity and the abolition of civil strife. It welcomes heroes but does not want martyrs.

12. In the New Argentina the only privileged ones are the children.

13. A Government without a doctrine is a body without a soul. That is why Perónism has established its own political, economic and social doctrines: Justicialism.

14. Justicialism is a new philosophical school of life. It is simple, practical, popular and endowed with deeply Christian and humanitarian sentiments.

15. As a political doctrine, Justicialism establishes a fair balance between the rights of the individual and those of the community.

16. As an economic doctrine, Justicialism achieves a true form of social economy by placing capital at the service of the national economy and this at the service of social welfare.

17. As a social doctrine, Justicialism presides over an adequate distribution of Social Justice giving to each person the social rights he is entitled to.

18. We want a socially just, an economically free and a politically independent Argentina.

19. We are an organized State and a free people ruled by a centralized government.

20. The best of this land of ours is its people.

We are all products of our time and environment. John Paul II grew up under Communist rule in Poland, Benedict XVI in Nazi Germany. Pope Francis was ten years old when Perón became President in his home of Argentina. I don't think it's unreasonable to believe that he was steeped in and influenced by Peronist thought. 

A few parallels I teased out between Perón's "Twenty Truths" and some examples of Peronist-influenced examples under the current pontificate:

--Some of Pope Francis' messages (for example, to the World Economic Forum as an agenda contributor in 2014 and 2018): The (one-world) government carries out the will of the people (point 1), there is one only one class of men (point 4) rooted in fairness. (point 5)

--He rewards his friends and punishes his enemies.(point 6)

--He is popular in the media, welcoming atheists (while maintaining that "atheists can still be redeemed", praising pro-abortion economists (while simultaneously condemning abortion as killing), and ushering globalists into his audience. At the same time, he is merciless with Traditionalists (what he sees as "cliques") and mute to the persecuted Church in China. (point 2)

--Politics (ie; doctrine) is not objective, but a means to the happiness of the people (the spiritual status quo) (point 9, point 14)

--The anti-doctrine is the new doctrine, which is why it is necessary to create "it's own doctrines"  (point 13)

These are just a few, and I'm sure there are more. 

My point here is to at least give a modicum of solace to those who may not be steeped in Church news but have felt themselves going crazy over the "messy" past decade, thinking, "this seems...off" or "Why is he doing and saying these things?" or "It sure is hard to pin him down!" 

If you see Pope Francis as being influenced by the political ideology of Juan Domingo Perón and Peronist political ideology, then what is coming out of the Vatican starts to make a lot more sense. Wait, I take that back. It still doesn't make sense, but it does help to explain it, like a diagnosis for a mental disorder at least gives a sense of explaining various neuroses and crazy behavior. 

I simply outline it here for those who may be otherwise confused or ignorant, through no fault of their own, to let you know that everything comes from somewhere. If you try to make sense of the current pontificate apart from Peronism, you risk going mad in the process; and I don't want to see anyone go mad on account of being Catholic. 

 

Wishing you a Merry Christmas, from our imperfect family to yours.

And stay tuned for some exciting news in the next couple weeks!

A Golden Age

I was talking with a buddy yesterday who was discontent in his work in finance, and considering looking for another job.  When I asked him why, he said it was mostly due to not seeing eye to eye with his manager. "We just don't get a long," he said. I think there was a small part of him, as a believer coming back to the faith, that was also overly-spiritualizing his work. "People don't quit jobs, they quit bosses," I told him. 

During a conversation by text earlier in the day with another friend, she had reached the point where she was questioning whether Pope Francis was really the true Pope, and made reference to the present "ape" of the Church in its current state.

I've had my share of living through an almost trauma-inducing dysfunction within my own place of work. I've had six different directors during that time, lived through union-lawyer questioning, and had to report to someone who was essentially an incompetent fraud, not to mention the day in, day out anxiety of an unstable workplace and leadership. But I really enjoyed what I do, and I had great co-workers. I joked with my co-worker (we started on the same day ten years ago) that we are like brother-and-sister orphans holding each other at the top of the stairs while our foster parents were throwing dishes at each other across the kitchen. 

Eventually we got a new Dean, a new director, and some of the toxic staff peeled off. During those tumultuous years, I mostly just put my head down and stuck it out. Now, I am finally able to do my work without the unnecessary drama, and I still enjoy what I am doing. Things are good for now.

For Catholics today, (and I imagine many priests and prelates, especially) there can be that feeling that we are working for a dysfunctional company with toxic management. Orthodox, Inc. or Sedevacantist Corp. may look like tempting start-ups, a greener grass that may allay our dissatisfaction with how things currently are in the Church. 

A few years ago I wrote an article about the phenomenon of "gray divorce," which has more than doubled for those over the age of 50 since the 1990's. The great tragedy of people who are abandoning their vows after twenty, thirty, or even forty years is that they will never experience the possibility of those "golden years" of marriage by cutting ship and drifting out to sea on a lifeboat alone. Rather than sitting on the porch together or walking in the park holding hands as a wrinkled old couple, they will have no one to do so with. 

Sometimes we need to leave a job because it's not healthy to stay. There is no sin in that, and sometimes it is even a good move for the sake of opportunity or salary. But we should also recognize that bad bosses come and go, and if everything else about a job gives us satisfaction, there's also no sin in putting your head down and grinding it out for a period, recognizing that nothing is always going to be smooth sailing whether that's a job, a marriage, or a religious faith. 

Personally, I have great hope in what's to come for Catholics, for those who remain faithful, don't cut ship, and put on their gloves ready to get to work. God is stripping us of graces to prepare our cups to be filled to overflowing. He is stripping us of identity and comforts and even purpose to get us down to the foundations of our faith. What do we really believe in? What are we willing to live, stay, and die for? What are our idols that need smashing? What are the essentials of faith? 

I truly believe God is trimming the fat and peeling away the dross of believers today with all the dysfunction to make it abundantly clear that you have only two choices as a Catholic in the present age: you can be hot, or you can be cold (Rev 3:16). How do you expect to earn the crown when you forfeit the race? If your first love--Christ and by extension, his Bride--has lost her luster, will you be like one of those fifty year old mid-managers trying to reinvigorate that love by what...starting up a relationship with your secretary? Cutting your spouse of twenty, thirty, forty years out to drift so you can what..."live your own life?" "have some peace?" Give me a break. 

Bad bosses come and go. Ride it out--plenty of work to do here on the home front. The race is only getting started, and we're just getting warmed up. Are you going to peel off at mile 25 because you're doubting why you are running a marathon at all? Don't be crazy. That last mile is where races are won or lost. But even if you're not running to win, run at least to finish. Endure the bad boss, hold on in the dark night of doubt, have hope. We are entering a golden age of faith. The saints God is raising up in this wicked and confused era for those who persevere are going to be ones that will be unrivaled because they are believing and enduring not because of the leadership in the hierarchy, but in spite of it. But you have to be a grinder. That you are given everything you need and invited to be counted among them....no year-end bonus will be able to compare to what God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Cor 2:9). 

The Most Epic Catholic COVID Party in the History of the United States

 

In January of 2021, a year into the lockdowns, a friend out West and I hatched a plan: escape the insanity of the COVID oppression that had metastasized across the U.S. by throwing a party and inviting every single Catholic we knew across the country. Her 40th birthday was coming up, and as a mother of ten, she had a big house. But that was just the cover: the reality is that every one we knew was fed up with masks, government overreach, Zoom everything, and the tension of uncertainty as to whether the world was ending of not. The time was ripe to do exactly what we weren't "allowed" to do during this unprecedented period in history: identify our people and be together as a bunch of loosely-connected strangers, talk shop as Catholics for when SHTF, and most importantly--have some freaking fun. 

We started to mobilize over Facebook and email, and I took on the bulk of getting the word out since I am a recruiter by trade. The premise was simple: a Nationwide Catholic party on February 20th, 2021 in Phoenix for anyone who was fed up with this abnormal state of life and could make it out. 

We weren't sure to expect, but like a album that drops at just the right time in the right conditions and goes Platinum or a high school party in the 90's, word spread fast. People from all over the country--from New Hampshire to New Jersey to Pennsylvania to Illinois to Florida to Oregon to California said "YES!" and started changing the oils in their car and booking flights. We were all Catholics on the same page and, at least for me, felt like we needed to find our people in this world and that being in person doing normal things was important. 

One woman (a good friend) drove cross country from the Northeast to Arizona because she refused to wear a mask on a plane. Others--one of my favorite Catholic couples of all time--drove from San Diego. The vast majority of these folks have large families and are authentically Catholic through and through. I stayed with K. for part of my time there in a spare room helping her prep for what seemed like a crazy social experiment, and with other friends D & P north of Phoenix for the rest. P. lent me his truck so I could meet up with C at a diner. I met up with an author friend for brunch. I connected with other people in person I had only known virtually up until then.

When the evening of the 20th came around, things started to pop. People really had committed to coming (not just talk about it, or say "cool idea!", and were showing up. By normal standards in normal circumstances, this would have just been a big Catholic house party where we drink and laugh and tell stories and do karaoke late into the night. But these weren't normal times, and to do "normal" things like this was essentially outlawed. These were normal (albeit, awesome and exceptional) Catholic folks who held their faith dear to their hearts, and the energy was one that would probably never be repeated given the circumstances. 

There was something about being together in person during this time that would never, and could never be replicated. It was also cathartic--so many of us were made to feel like extremists, radicals and subversives for not "trusting the science" and being firm in convictions. We needed to know we weren't crazy, that there were others like us out there, and that need demanded proof I think--something tangible, something real. Something that started with a crazy, random idea materialized and gave me hope in this small bloc of "my people" and that the Faith could survive in a hostile world if we stuck together and leaned on each other. 

A few of these people I have fallen out of touch with, but many I consider dear friends and stay in touch with, even if we don't talk regularly. When you're on the same page with the faith, you've found your people, even if they are spread out across the country. When you're not sure if this month will be your last before the world ends and everything goes to pot, it's comforting to know you have a tribe to call on for prayer, support, and yes--to party til dawn with.

"Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, There's always laughter and good red wine." 

--Hilaire Belloc

Innocence and Sophistry

 

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me." (Jn 14:1)

While I was made aware of it dropping like a nuke in Rockefeller center yesterday, I'm not going to join the chorus and write about Fiducia Supplicans here. All I will say is that the DDF and the Holy Father's timing is impeccable. One has to give credit where credit is due.

I should also say that yesterday was one of the worst days I had had in a while for various but unrelated reasons. When I texted my friend Kevin Wells: "Got time for a pep talk?" I was unaware that he thought I was referring to the aforementioned document that was released just in time for Christmas. So getting the run down on what was going on in the world was kind of the shiny bow on an especially dour twenty four hours.

Truth be told, this time of year I always long to be in a cave somewhere rather than working, scuttling between stores, or being immersed in the overall frantic spirit around me. But the news of the document--which gives explicit approval for priest's to impart a blessing on same-sex couples and those in "irregular situations"--was, ironically, just what I needed to snap me out of the depressed and frazzled state I found myself in.  

As a father, I feel that one of my primary jobs is guarding and preserving the innocence of my children for as long as I am able, to give them an innocent childhood and a solid foundation for when they do go out into a world full of wolves. When my five year old lays down next to my wife and I in bed and falls asleep, I find myself just looking at him, kissing his head while he sleeps and running the back of my hand along his cheeks as he breathes quietly between us. These are the moments that day by day slip away, until they inevitably one day become a memory; and so I try to spend those late-night hours just listening, watching, and gazing over him as he sleeps.

And so I was especially repulsed when my inadvertent naivety of yesterday's current events popped my bubble. Not only because of the distraction from what should be an anticipatory spiritual season of waiting and gazing with this nefarious pastoral pronouncement, but because of the nature--the subject matter--inherent in the pronouncement itself. While "the Heavens declare the glory of God" (Ps 19:2), and the Virgin Mother's Magnificat magnifies the Lord who looks down on His lowly servant (Lk 1:46-55), the sins that cry to Heaven (Gen 18:20-21) instead mute with such crude force what should be a quiet, guarded innocence of gazing on the Christ child in his manger among the Holy Family and the shepherds that had come to worship him. They were amazed (Lk 2:18), while Mary treasured all these things and and pondered them in her heart (Lk 2:19).

In the stable, awe and innocence--of Mary, Joseph, the Christ child, and the shepherds--is replete in that Holy Night. There is no news, no communication from outside that setting, that defiles that scene. And yet, here we are in late December of 2023 and the defecation of impurity has resounded not from the pagan nation of Herod's Rome, but from the throne of the Christ Child's future Bride, the Church. Simply defined, sophistry is the "use of fallacious arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving." Can any description of what came out of Rome yesterday be more fitting? And just days before Christians worldwide seek to sit at the foot of the manger and simply gaze, worship, and be filled with awe that a child--God himself made incarnate in innocence--would redeem us from this fallen world. For "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly" and has scattered the proud in their conceit (Lk 1:52, 51). 

If I am urging you to keep your gaze focused on the innocent Christ lying helpless in a manger this season, it is only because it is taking everything in myself to do the same. Just when you think your back can't bear anymore weight, that your spirit will collapse under the weight of sin from our shepherds, the hand of the Church adds another kilo to the stack. It's enough to make one buckle.

Which is why the timing of the Ember days this week are opportune as well--to bring us back in a focused spirit of poverty, hunger, and penance. While we should not let them go to waste, and recognize as those in the Christian East do that "Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the first," also let yourself grieve for the death of innocence that the Vatican has subjected us to during this season at the most inopportune time. Feel it, be disgusted by its disgrace, and realize at this point it is almost impossible to bear this weight of sorrow under your own strength. 

It is a weight too strong for even the most stoic of men most days--but for the babe in the manger before you who will bear the weight of sin and the world on his shoulders--"he will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone" (Ps 91:12).  And remember the true nature of blessing in the Canticle of the Three Youths in the book of Daniel:

Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Angels of the Lord, bless the Lord;

You heavens, bless the Lord;

All you waters above the heavens, bless the Lord.

All you hosts of the Lord; bless the Lord.

Sun and moon, bless the Lord;

Stars of heaven, bless the Lord.

Every shower and dew, bless the Lord;

All you winds, bless the Lord.

Fire and heat, bless the Lord;

Cold and chill, bless the Lord.

Dew and rain, bless the Lord;

Frost and cold, bless the Lord.

Ice and snow, bless the Lord;

Nights and days, bless the Lord.

Light and darkness bless the Lord;

Lightning and clouds, bless the Lord.

Let the earth bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Mountains and hills, bless the Lord

Everything growing from the earth, bless the Lord.

You springs, bless the Lord;

Seas and rivers, bless the Lord.

You dolphins and all water creatures, bless the Lord;

All you birds of the air, bless the Lord.

All you beasts, wild and tame, bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

You sons of men, bless the Lord;

O Israel, bless the Lord.

Priests of the Lord, bless the Lord;

Servants of the Lord, bless the Lord.

Spirits and souls of the just, bless the Lord;

Holy men of humble heart, bless the Lord.

Ananias, Azarias, Misael, bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Let us bless the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost;

Let us praise and exalt God above all forever.

Blessed are you in the firmament of heaven;

Praiseworthy and glorious forever.

The Third Way

Call me crazy, but I have a vision of the church --a mental portrait of the renewal that will have to take place to recapture the essence of what it means to be a Christian in the 21st century. It will require boots on the ground and in the field, lots of hard work, a willingness to take risks, look foolish, and get one's hands dirty, creativity and out of the box thinking, deep lives of prayer and service, a docility to the Spirit, associating with sinners, a thirst for souls, and a willingness to suffer. This is not a program, nor an apostolate or religious order--it is simply people embracing the "both/and" ethos of Catholicism and refusing to settle for anything less than full-throated "lives fully lived" for Christ. I don't want to be a cafeteria Catholic; I want the whole buffet.

But because this is a tall order, I'm taking as a mission statement the adage, "be the change you wish to see in the world." We can only change ourselves and live authentically as God calls us. Since we are called as disciples to put our hands to the plow and not look backwards, there's no way of knowing who is following us when our eyes are forward-looking, focused on Christ. And that's a good thing--movements come and go; but Christ remains. 

Why is this important? St. Paul sought the unification of the Church when dealing with factions, those who say "I am of Paul, or I am of Apollos" (1 Cor 1:12; cf. 1 Cor 3:4). The early Christians were also identified in the public square by their love (Jn 13:35)--not because they wore a chapel veil or had ashes on their forehead on Ash Wednesday. They were also willing to go to their martyrdoms singing joyfully, knowing their reward was in Heaven. They were not SJWs, but shared what they had cheerfully with the poor and those in need. Many worked miracles by faith, and tended to the sick and dying. In short, they believed and lived out that belief in the pagan streets of Rome and beyond.  

When I see factions in the Church today, I see weakness; a missing the forest for the trees, and a forgetting of one's first love. The potential for a formidable bloc of believers which transforms our fallen world is vetoed in favor of a comfortable country club of card-carrying dues-payers, or a degenerate squabble-fest, fiefdom against fiefdom. We pour into these little projects and kingdoms rather than deferring our wages to the Divine Architect to fund his master piece. 

Tradition is the best kept secret in the Church today. What I see is people being fed and fortified by it in their liturgical lives, having found a vessel worthy to hold their offerings of worship. It may be branded as "Traditional Catholicism" but really it is simply authentic Catholicism believed and lived out. I also see people wary and suspicious of this "brand" and instead of embracing it, hold it at arm's length and not giving it a chance. Or finding their first experience or two were negative ones and so refusing to return. I see caricatures, avatars of "trads" invoked as the rationale for keeping distance from this authentic Catholicism--sometimes valid, other times not.  

But Tradition is not the end goal, our raison-d'etre. It is a formidable means to an end to fortify us, but not the end itself. For in the New Covenant there are not one, but two Great Commandments: “'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. ' The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself. ' There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:30-31). While the ornate chasubles rustle and the sun reflects off golden candlesticks on the altar, the more muted orders of charity sit outside the sanctuary door waiting to be filled: to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, visit the sick and prisoners, bury the dead. The doubtful await counseling, sinners need admonishing, our enemies demand forgiveness, the ignorant live in darkness. While traditional Catholics are busy griping about liturgical abuses and turning down their nose at the Novus Ordo ad nauseum, their counterparts in their local suburban parishes are carrying out these works of mercy day in and day out in anticipation of their judgment: "I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me to drink (Mt. 25: 35-40). 

Take as way of example these two vocation trailers: the first for the Discalced Carmelites, the second for the CFRs. Both are powerful and moving; both inspire devotion and service to Christ. One order is traditional and contemplative; the other, more charismatic and active. Both are authentically Catholic.

And so, like a naive babe or a misguided fool, I see these two seemingly disparate blocs of Catholics and think to myself, "Why not both/and?" If lex orandi lex credendi is a proven law (and it is), and if we will be judged on our charity, why are we shutting down one lung in the body of Christ to breathe with the other? Is a joyful, evangelical traditionalism that is committed to being the hands and feet of Christ in the world a contradiction in terms--or is it a third way forward that leaves nothing on the table and no room to doubt that we are, in fact, Catholic Christians through and through, known by our love?

Yes, I see a Third Way of living out my life as a Christian...but not as much around me. This is the change I want to see in the church and in the world. I am not interested in movements or factions or joining a tribe; I am a laborer, and I want the whole package. If I'm alone, I'm content to be alone. But if there are others, I would welcome the company. Call me crazy...but call me hopeful as well. 

Those Who Walked In Darkness Have Seen a Great Light

 

I was really happy to have come across an interview that the adorable and hilariously off-the-wall comedian Theo Von did on his podcast "This Past Weekend" with the newly baptized former tattoo artist Kat Von D. Here's a short clip of the two hour interview interview to give some context:

I knew Theo from his comedy, but wasn't familiar with Ms. Von D until I came across some news on Yahoo or something that she was baptized and had become a Christian. I appreciated the interview with Ms. Von D as a baby Christian, and Theo as just a truly authentic, non-judgmental guy. Ms. Von D mentioned that she was expecting to get hate from all sides for her decision to turn away from her former life and to give her life to Christ; but she was surprised that most of that animosity came from Christians themselves who thought that a "Christian should look a certain way", and not her fan base (who were largely supportive and understanding).  

Judgement (especially when it comes to externals) is one of the ugliest sweaters a Christian can don. It ferments hypocrisy, smolders charity, and thwarts evangelism. It should have no place in the Christian life of a believer--and yet it does. As someone who was previously engaged to a woman who was tattooed from head to toe, and who was featured in tattoo magazines (but who have none myself), I know I don't always fit the part myself. 

The funny thing is, converts like Ms. Von D probably have the power, by the Holy Ghost, to lead more souls to Christ who have been lost to the culture--souls that many of us laboring in the field have trouble reaching. If you doubt what God can do with those who don't fit the mold of what a believer should look like, you'd better call Saul (Paul). 

I know I haven't posted much about the liturgical season of Advent we are now in, which is usually my habit--if you want Advent reflections, you're probably better off hopping over to the National Catholic Register or Catholic Digest. But I think there is an Advent message in here somewhere, and it goes back to Isaiah the prophet:

"The people that walked in darkness, have seen a great light: to them that dwelt in the region of the shadow of death, light is risen." (Is 9:2)

Baptism is a shared sacrament among Christians of all denominations (as any convert knows, you are not "re-baptized" when you come into the Church because your baptism in the Lutheran, Episcopal, or non-denominational church conferred grace, provided it was done with water and "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit"). So, I always celebrate when someone is washed free of Original Sin in baptism, but even more so when they are closer to the grave than they were when they were infants. Do I wish and hope Ms. Von D to find the fullness of truth in the Catholic Church some day? Of course. But we all have to start somewhere, and "we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose" (Rom 8:28).

Ms. Von D also seems sincere in her conviction. She threw out her books on witchcraft, covered the majority of her tattoos in blank ink, sold off her shares in her namesake beauty brand, closed her famous tattoo shop, and listed her $12 million California mansion for sale. It seems she has taken to heart the words of another questionable convert, St. Paul, to heart: "Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. For he that is dead is freed from sin" (Rom 6:6-7). 

We often forget as Christians that "look and play the part" (not to mention being guilty of "majoring in the minors" in our Catholic safe spaces) that the Gospel is branded as "good news for the poor" (Lk 4:14-22). Christ did not come to save the righteous, but sinners (Lk 5:31-32); for it is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick. This is also the message of Advent, as well--while most of us are baking Christmas cookies and cozying up around the fire with eggnog and carols and shopping for presents to give to our loved ones, the world outside is steeped in darkness without a light. It is the nature of God in Christ to seek out the lost, to lift them out of the miry pit. Christ spoke in no uncertain terms about those that "wash the outside of the cup while the inside is filled while the insides is filled with greed and self-indulgence" (Mt 23:25-29). 

The poor disrupt our comfort, our spiritual equilibrium--they do not live predictable lives and do not always act in predictable ways. I commend this pastor who taught a valuable lesson to his congregation when he disguised himself as a homeless man and showed up at his own church only to be mistreated. 

But it is for the poor, the lost, those who walk in darkness that Christ has shined the light of salvation on. He became poor among the poor--poor in spirit and humble in means. We really cannot afford to forget that as Christians who make claim to the throne when we should be trying more to be like children. The mantle of the door to Heaven is not high off the ground--only those who are low to the ground will enter through it. 

My heart really swelled to hear Ms. Von D's turning away from the darkness and into the light. May God continue to guide her into the fullness of Truth, and use her for His purposes to bring others home. 

"It Is [Un]Finished": Endō, Kafka, and the Crucifixion of Meaning

 

"For as the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts...As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our iniquities from us." 

(Is 55:9; Ps 102:12)

I read Shūsaku Endō's Silence about twenty years ago, and it made an unsettling but lasting impression on me that to this day lingers like a specter in the shadowy crevices of my rock of faith. This was years before Martin Scorsese did his 2016 film adaptation (which I refused to watch) of the novel. Some left-of-center reviewers praised the film, traditionalists predictably condemned it, neo-conservative academics thoughtfully took a pass, while Fr. James Martin offered his trademark wily interpretation screened through the lens of heterodoxy. 

Endō was a Japanese Catholic (which seems like a misnomer of sorts,), who wrote Silence in 1966. His faith was one born in doubt, and his Catholicism a religion which was like that of an "an ill-fitting suit" at odds with his Japanese heritage, a faith and religion he always wanted to throw off, but never could. This theme of doubt (if one might call it that) weaves its way like a loose thread in the tapestry of Silence, which is a historical novel about the persecution of the Japanese Christians during the reign of the third Tokugawa and following the Shimabara Rebellion of the early to mid 17th century. It also centers around the life and faith of the Portuguese Jesuit missionaries there who are tortured both physically and psycho-spiritually, alongside their flock. 

The Japanese were savagely effective at inducing physical suffering in one way by hanging Christians upside down in a pit of excrement, slashing the forehead to vent the blood flow, and leaving them (sometimes for days or weeks) until they recanted their faith. But worse for the missionaries was the psychological torture of being bobbed the carrot of recantation in front of their face while their captors used the other Christians as a bargaining chip: Apostatize by simply stepping on the fumi-e (the image of Christ) and those whom you formed in the faith, these innocent people, will be freed. It would be an act of Christian charity to step, since one would save their flock. Or so the reasoning went in the dark night of temptation. And the young and fervent Jesuit protagonist, Sebastian Rodrigues, does just that, following in the footsteps of his predecessor Christovao Ferreira.

There is not only an existential, but a faint absurdist motif in the novel as well--extreme suffering in conviction can be born if the faith and its promises of eternal life are true. But what if it isn't? And what is "truth?" How can anyone sacrifice himself for for a false faith? the priest asks himself incredulously. In this dark night, the sophomoric religious fantasy of glorious martyrdom has given way to a far crueler and muted doubt--that the whole ordeal is simply absurd:

"This was a frightening fancy. . . .What an absurd drama become the lives of [the martyrs] Mokichi and Ichizo, bound to the stake and washed by the waves. And the missionaries who spent three years crossing the sea to arrive at this country – what an illusion was theirs. Myself, too, wandering here over the desolate mountains – what an absurd situation!"

Whereas Christianity may try to baptize itself in the broody waters of Existentialism where l'existence précède l'essence, Absurdism affords no such opportunity. Kafka--despite writing his entire life--never finished a novel, and even insisted his work be burned unread upon his death at age 40. The Metamorphosis (Die Verwandlung) is pointless--and that is the point. Camus, who was indebted to and greatly influenced by Kafka's work, said that there were only two feasible choices in the face of the philosophical problem of a pointless existence: suicide or rebellion. The Absurd hero must create their own meaning in the face of ultimate meaninglessness.

As far as the East is from the West is the Christian mind from that of the Absurdist. For Christianity, fully imbibed with a reason for being and on which it pins its hopes. It depends on meaning and purpose in order to hold, which is why novels like Silence are so unsettling--they touch a hidden part of our otherwise orthodox selves that we have stuffed to the back corner of a closet: what if all this is a sham? What if it's not true? We sometimes compensate by attributing to the external Devil these seeds of doubt when in fact the more horrifying prospect is that they come somewhere deep inside of us, needing no power of suggestion from outside the self. That we see those we know and those we love defecting and apostatizing all around us today touches a nerve, sends a shiver down our spines--if them, why not me?  

Endō spent much of his life trying to bridge this divide between two seemingly incongruent worlds--Japanese culture and his Catholic faith--but at some point I imagine it may have felt like the futility inherent in Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus. And there is a kind of absurdism in the crucifixion when it is divorced from any meaning or purpose behind it. That is why the Resurrection is so crucial for Paul, for without it, everything else about Christianity is preached in vain (1 Cor 15:14). Without it, the center cannot hold.

In some ways, we are living through an almost Absurdist period in the Church where we are coming upon not a crisis of doctrine, but a crisis of meaning. For the priest, the missionary, the modern disciple, the orthodox believer it becomes--why am I laboring out here for souls when nothing I do seems to matter, when everything is undermined and obfuscated by the absurdism coming out of Rome? What is the point? We double down publicly with rally cries for martyrdom, and even in our prayer lives we sink deeper into the comforting silence of God, refusing to believe that our hope is in vain, that our faith is absurd. Of course that is how the world sees us, but we are not of the world. Right? Right?

For the three days of silence between the crucifixion and the resurrection, the disciples of Christ hoped and prayed that there's was not an absurd and misplaced faith. But did it have that guarantee? Or did they, too, struggle with what it all meant, what it all was for, even if it was only for a flash moment that was not acknowledged but lurked and circled like a fox in the shadowy recesses of their consciousness? 

For the Christian, our faith in Christ is as much a faith in the meaning of his death as it is the purpose of his life--that this death was not pointless, not futile, not suicidal--not absurd. And, by extension, that ours will not be either. We are hemmed in by doctrine and fortified by dogma, yes, but now we are living through a period in which the walls of this doctrinal certainty seem to be bowing out under the weight of the nonsensical utterings of the Pope, the throwing under the bus and hanging out to dry of the faithful (like Cardinal Zen), and the ecclesiastical apostates who justify their lack of faith and are not content to be alone in their damnation.

In the final pages of Silence, Ferreira is living comfortably in an magistrate's palace after his apostasy and is found by a priest, who "recalls his sadness." 

"In the course of their conversation, Ferreira had said not one word about the poor Japanese martyrs. Of course he had deliberately avoided this issue; he had tried to avoid any thought of people who were stronger than himself, people who had heroically endured torture and the pit. Ferreira was trying to increase, even by one, the number of weaklings like himself--to share with others his cowardice and loneliness." 

Why I Lost Faith in the "New Evangelization"

 I've been made aware from homilies at Mass in which our priests were instructed to weave Eucharistic themes into their sermons, that we are in the midst of a $28 million National Eucharistic Revival, which is sponsored by the U.S. Catholic bishops and is to culminate in a National Eucharistic Conference in 2024. The stated mission of the Eucharistic Revival is to “renew the Church by enkindling a living relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ in the holy Eucharist.”

Now, I really try hard in speech and word not to crap on things that have an obviously good motivation and core; I try hard not to be too critical, give the benefit of the doubt, and do my best to support such initiatives which do not conflict with conscience; and (obviously as readers of this blog know), I don't always do a great job of that. That being said, when I heard about this Eucharistic initiative by the U.S. Catholic bishops, I let out a little sigh because it felt a bit like deja vu, like I had been here before. 

In 2017, I got involved with an apostolate called St. Paul Street Evangelization. I was drawn to their grassroots mission of "taking to the streets" to spread the Gospel of Christ and give bold witness in the public square. The mission of SPSE draws from Sherry Waddell's Forming Intentional Disciples, as well as the Second Vatican Council's reiteration that all Catholics by their baptism in Christ are called to evangelize and "make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28:19), given credence in Pope Benedict XVI's establishment of the Pontifical Council for the Promotion of the New Evangelization. In his 2010 homily on the Solemnity of SS. Peter and Paul, he called for “renewed evangelization where the first proclamation of the faith has already resonated and where Churches with an ancient foundation exist but are experiencing the progressive secularization of society and a sort of "eclipse of the sense of God", which pose a challenge to finding appropriate to propose anew the perennial truth of Christ's Gospel.”

I started a local SPSE chapter at the parish we were attending at the time, ordering placards, apologetic tracts, rosaries and Miraculous Medals in bulk. Once a month we would set up in a busy section of town and try to engage passersby. If they were non-Christians, we would speak to them about God and eternity; if they were non-Catholics, we would engage with them on our commonalities, and ask them if they ever considered Catholicism; if they were Catholics, we would ask them what their parish was and encourage them to come back to Confession and Mass if they were fallen away. In addition to monthly evangelization sessions and training team members wanting to get involved, I worked for SPSE as a 1099 contractor, typing up reports and testimonies from other teams across the country for the apostolate.

In his epistle to the Ephesians, St. Paul writes of the various gifts of ministry, that "[Christ] gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers" (Eph 4:11). I did feel like I was called to give witness to the Gospel as an evangelist(as opposed to teaching, priesthood, or prophetic ministry), and this seemed like the practical application of that calling. The field seemed ripe for harvest--how many fallen away Catholics, how many baptized, had failed to have the seed of the Gospel take root in their hearts? These neo-pagans were surely ripe for the picking in the harvest of the New Evangelization--the 21st century New Springtime of Renewal.   

I don't know at what point I lost the fire for this apostolate and ministry; of course I had realistic expectations that we weren't going to see mass success or conversions, and I also knew that it becomes "work" at some point after the initial excitement and honeymoon wears off. While I never lost the zeal to bring souls to Christ, I did start to doubt that the model of this particular apostolate as an extension of these post-conciliar initiatives put forth by the Holy See under John Paul II and Benedict XVI. This doubt started to creep in around the time we were transitioning over to a Traditional Latin Mass parish and waking up to the problems inherent in the post-conciliar reforms, and I was faced with the question, "If someone I am evangelizing said, 'All you say sounds good. Take me to Mass! How do I become Catholic?' what the heck do I do?" Take them to the parish secretary or priest at the local (Novus Ordo) parish? Get them signed up for RCIA? It was almost a crisis of conscience, and one I felt guilty about even experiencing. Isn't it a good thing someone would (hypothetically) want to become Catholic? Attend Mass? Binge watch Bishop Barron videos? Sign up for the Bible in a Year with Fr. Mike Schmitz? Read the Matthew Kelly books the local parish gives out and become a Dynamic Catholic™? 

I said I didn't want to crap on good things, so I'm going to try really hard not to. But circling back to the National Eucharistic Conference that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I am reliving that inner conflict I had with the evangelization apostolate and recalling the words of our Lord regarding the foolish builder who built his house on sand, "The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash" (Mt 7:27).

The new revised (1995) Catechism states that the Eucharist is "the source and summit of the Christian life" (CCC 1324). It is fundamental doctrine that the Eucharist is truly and substantially the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ made truly present under guise of bread and wine. I believe this as a Catholic, as all Catholics should (though as many research groups have highlighted, a majority of Catholics do not have even this basic understanding of transubstantiation). 

And yet, there is this idea of "do as I say, not as I do." For if we truly believed that our Lord was truly present before us at Mass, why in God's holy Name do we persist in 95% of Catholic parishes with:

-employing legions of lay Eucharistic Ministers distributing Holy Communion;

-giving Communion in the hand;

-giving scandal by not ex-communicating Catholic politicians who support abortion and have the audacity of presenting themselves to Holy Communion;

-neglecting to remind Catholics who are in a state of mortal sin not to receive Communion;

-failing to preach from the pulpit about the sin of contraception and the permanence of marriage.

On that last point, I wrote in Consummation, 

 

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

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

The inconsistency in how we live as Catholics (and how our shepherds choose or fail to teach and admonish) amounts to an example of "do as I say, not as I do." I would never discourage someone, even a non-Catholic, from visiting an Adoration chapel and making a holy hour and encountering the Eucharistic Lord in prayer, and I see the value in Eucharistic processions as a means of public witness. But when the post-conciliar allowances present in the GIRM (EMs, communion in the hand, etc) which have now become common practice combined with the fact Catholics who eschew contraception and divorce-and-remarriage are considered "radical" or "rigid," and Catholic pro-aborts are given a free pass, we are sending mixed messages. 

Whether it is the New Springtime of Vatican II, the National Eucharistic Revival or the "New Evangelization," I'm sad to say I have do not have faith in these institutional initiatives as a means of renewal in the Church.

But I have not lost faith--in fact, it is quite the contrary. I still have a heart for evangelization, to bring the Good News of the Gospel to the poor, the lost, the lukewarm. I carry Miraculous Medals with me in my car and bag to give out wherever I go. I do the uncomfortable work of trying to admonish and catechize my poorly-formed Catholic father about the basics of Catholic doctrine (sin, the need for Confession, Holy Days of Obligation, judgement, Heaven and Hell, etc). I write into the internet void, hoping a seed of truth lands in someone's heart and strengthens their faith or leads them to metanoia. As a family we try to live basic, fervent authentic Catholic lives on the ground even when we eschew Catholic™ programming. 

But this is all because I believe, as I heard one Orthodox bishop insightfully state recently, that “Christ did not come to change a bad person into a good person, He came to give life to a dead person.” When you prepare a feast for a King, you set the table. Nothing should be neglected--not the polishing of the silver or the placing of the centerpieces or the instruction of the servers. Should the table or chair be wobbly or off center, wouldn't you want to correct that before he sits down to eat? Otherwise all your other initiatives are overshadowed by this shaky setting. 

Jesus Christ is not a "better way"...he is the only way to the Father (Jn 14:6). The Christian life is not a matter of self-improvement or ecological or economic harmony...it is the difference between life and death. The lukewarm the Lord will vomit from His mouth (Rev 3:16). That those who preach the basic fundamentals of Christian doctrine in the Church today are canceled, silenced or marginalized should cue the orthodox believer to read the signs of the times. There is an old saying: Red sky in morning, shepherd take warning. Red sky at night, shepherd's delight--which also appears in holy Scripture:

“When in evening, ye say, it will be fair weather: For the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering" (Mt 16:2-3)

As the new sun rises blood red in the sky over this godless generation, we would be wise to trim our lamps and prepare for the Bridegroom's return rather than waiting for the warnings to come from the top down. The smoke of Satan has already entered the Church; someone fell asleep in the armchair as the cigarette hits the carpet. Or maybe it was shoddy wiring covered up by decades of plaster. Who knows. Meanwhile our shepherds are making their beds and brewing coffee and ordering new curtains for the living room rather than pulling the fire alarm. Meanwhile, the rest of us with burning nostrils and choked lungs are doing everything we can to pull out our brothers and sisters--tying bedsheets together, throwing mattresses out of second story windows, breaking our legs in the fall and running back in through the front door to try to pull out more bodies. 

We might never know what caused the fire in the first place. But to stand on the lawn and see the smoldering house, where not even the foundation remains, we realize that we are indeed now homeless tenants, sojourners, pilgrims and laborers. The rebuilding will take place over time, but slowly--brick by brick, joist by joist--from the hands of the survivors. 

"Worse Than A Thousand Karens": Why Your Office Administrator Is Crucial To Your Parish's Success

I'm taking a lunch break after a morning conducting interviews for an open position in our office. This is probably the sixth or seventh search committee I've served on and while it can be a lot of work, I've always appreciated the opportunity to be on the "other side" of the interviewing table. I was never great in interviews, and it's a wonder how I even got a job at all. But being on the hiring side, you get a valuable perspective of what managers are looking for in candidates, what annoys them, and what makes one stand out.

It can also be trying to find a needle in a haystack for some positions that require that people wear a lot of "different hats" in the role. Sure, you want someone who is technologically adept and can interpret data and reports...but you also need them to be a people person, willing to travel, be a good team player but also able to work independently, has the right background and experience, etc etc...and willing to work for less than they can make elsewhere. 

The parish office administrator (or to use the old-school nomenclature, the "church secretary") is one of those positions. They wear a lot of different hats--they do administrative work, sure, but it's not all bulletins and church envelope mailing. It's fielding calls from a dizzyingly wide array of issues from "What time is Christmas Eve Mass?" to "I need a priest, my father is dying!" to "I'm considering becoming Catholic and don't know where to start." It's being a dependable confidant to the pastor. It's organizing church and social functions, it's accounting, it's bookkeeping...the list goes on and on. And all this for typically a low to modest salary. 

The most important aspect of their position, however, is that they are the first point of contact for many people to the parish particularly, and the Church as a whole. As someone who recruits for a living, I'm always cognizant that I am the "face" of the institution I work for. If I come off as condescending, ignorant, uninterested, or fail to return correspondence in a timely manner, I'm not only not doing my job effectively--I'm communicating to that prospective applicant that this is what people at XYZ Organization are like. They have other options, and if I make a bad impression, there is no shortage of other competitors who will give them the royal treatment and welcome them to learn more. First impressions go a long way, for good and for bad. 

I told our pastor recently after our parish Trunk or Treat: "Make sure you take care of M___ (our parish administrator); she's a diamond in the rough." And she is. She's warm, welcoming, responsive, empathetic, organized, hard-working, faithful, social, and loyal. She's everything we could ask for, and our pastor knows it. We have been growing as a parish, and I know she plays a part in that. 

On the flip side, I remember having a conversation with a woman I supervise one day and we were talking about kids, family, etc. She mentioned that when her kids were younger, she took them to the parish office to have them enrolled in Catholic school. When she encountered the church secretary and inquired, she was curtly told "we don't do enrollments this day. You'll have to come back tomorrow on the day we do them," or something that effect. Understandable. And it was also understandable that my Catholic co-worker immediately exited with her kids, enrolled her kids at the local public school, and never darkened the door of that particular church again. 

Like it or not, the parish office administrator/secretary is the GATEKEEPER to your church. She can be a door of welcome, or a complete barrier to keeping the lights on. Getting the person in that position right is probably more crucial than the youth minister, the DRE, the sacristan, the finance council, the parish council, and probably any other employee of that parish. 

So, though I am not a pastor and I do not work for the Church, I would offer the following advice for those who are or do to ensure that you don't put up needless barriers to current or potential parishioners when hiring for this position:

Pay them as much as you can

It is a worthwhile investment. We communicate value, for better or worse, through compensation. This doesn't always have to be in W-2 fashion, but even modestly increasing a secretarial salary by an extra $2,000-$3,000/yr can go a long way in retention and attracting the right candidate. If that is not possible for whatever reason, taking her out to lunch, giving a kind of monetary or non-monetary bonus, giving her extra days off--whatever it takes to keep or hire a good administrator will pay dividends for you. Pay her compliments and reward incentive and initiative, provided it is in line with the parish and pastor's mission.

Train them in customer service

We don't usually equate customer service with anything related to the Church; it's corporate lingo. But believe me, it goes a long way, and it doesn't take much. Encouraging little things like greeting people, being friendly, smiling, being flexible and accommodating, returning calls and emails promptly, and going above and beyond is not at odds with the function of an office administrator. If anything, it's the most important thing; again, because they are the "face" of the Church. It sets the tone for who you are as a parish and what you want to become. There is also the second-hand effects of evangelizing those with whom they come into (first) contact with. The church secretary may be the only person from the Church a non-believer encounters in a phone call, and that can set a trajectory for life. It's no small thing!

Encourage them in their prayer life

I think it was St. Catherine who said, "I'd rather have a trained spiritual director than a holy one." The parish secretary should be a practicing Catholic, obviously, but I would venture to say the non-religious aspects of their personality and temperaments related to the job should outweigh their piety. But you also don't want to hire someone who doesn't exude the love of Christ and live in alignment with Church teaching. Again, this can feel like a needle in a haystack, but the more you set the example of holiness and virtue as a pastor (and lead your flock in that way), the more you inspire those who work for you to do the same. Prayer has a way of changing us, increasing virtue and patience, kindness, love, understanding, etc...all the kinds of qualities you want in the front-facing staff member answering the phone and meeting people at the door. 

Treat them as part of a team and give them a voice

When we have buy-in in an organization, we tend to believe in the mission and even put in extra work because we feel a part of something, valued, appreciated...that we belong there. This means having a clear vision and mission for your parish, and communicating that to potential applicants so that their own values align with that of the church or organization. That, in turn, will ensure they want to come to work, want to do their best, want to go above and beyond in their position. Treat the custodian, the office administrator, the sacristan not as less-than-important in relation to other members, but as vital to the overall goal of leading people to Christ, giving glory to God in worship, bringing in more revenue...whatever. How you treat those "beneath" you is not only a reflection of good servant-leadership, but how you live your life of faith. As St. Benedict said in his Rule, "Welcome all guests as Christ." 

Be willing to let someone go

A parish like any organization should be true to its mission, and the chain is only as strong as its weakest link. If you have a toxic or apathetic office administrator, this may call for taking a hard look at whether it is helping or hurting your parish. It is not uncommon for organizations to "clean house" when a new administration comes in; of course this takes prudence and discernment. But you need to think hard about keeping someone on just because they have been there a long time, or their family member is a donor, or they are a long time member of such-and-such parish. This smacks of corporate coldness, but sometimes you need to think with a different hat and make hard choices. The Church has suffered enough with kick-the-can syndrome, cover ups, ecclesial cronyism, and a business-as-usual mentality. 

We are all familiar with the pejorative term "Karen," someone who gets themselves in a tizzy or acts entitled or angry. I don't know of a similar term for an off-putting church secretary, but I've encountered my share of them in real life, and I can say I don't blame people like my co-worker for saying, "Well, thanks anyway." It's one thing to have a Karen-esqe individual in your pews...it's another to have them being the literal gatekeeper of your parish. 

If you have a good parish office administrator on your staff, count your blessings and tell them you appreciate them. A little goes a long way. Hold on to them as long as you can, and realize it's a small but dividend-paying investment in your parish. They will probably be there long after you've been reassigned, but your parishioners and your predecessor will thank you. If you are looking to fill this position, do it mindfully and don't underestimate how important this "gatekeeper" role is for the sake of the Good News of Christ, not to mention your financial bottom line. The more attractive you can make the position, and the more clear you can be about the expectations, the more trouble will spare yourself later.