The Last Pillar

If there is any testament to the work of grace, it is that people remain in the Catholic Church. 

Now, if one comes at this from a strictly sociological perspective, one could argue that it is not grace that keeps one in the Church, but a kind of spiritual Stockholm Syndrome. This phenomenon occurs when hostages or abuse victims bond with their captors or abusers and develop psychological connections over the course of the days, weeks, months, or even years of captivity or abuse and may come to sympathize with their captors. Then, even if one had the opportunity to escape, they may choose to stay instead.

Or, if one were to think of the faith as a "job" of sorts, why would one pledge loyalty to such a dysfunctional institution which is both spiritually and financially in the red, with a CEO that is cold and vindictive, where one lives under threat of being "canceled" at any moment? Is it cognitive dissonance to continue to devote one's life and talent to a post-conciliar Church which, as my friend Boniface aptly points out, flees from its call not because it fears failure, but because it fears success? 

This simple statement is perhaps the only one which makes sense to me at this point. Why else would we as the laity have our hands slapped for daring to proselytize, being gaslit with confusion for having the audacity to believe what the Church professes, or threatened with eradication by possessing the gall of desiring our spiritual and liturgical patrimony? If a secular company was abusing its employees and constantly shooting itself in the foot, hemorrhaging accounts and failing to grow capital, having company meetings modeled of this laughable "synodality" model, it would find itself six feet under at the end of the fiscal year. The Church is dysfunctional, inept, and rife with corruption. And yet She survives. Why?

When I reflect on Mother Teresa's words, "God has called us not to be successful, but to be faithful," I am in the habit of attributing that message to our individual lives as Christians. But perhaps it applies to the Church as a whole as well. Granted, the Church is not a business or an IPO, and the more She entangles herself with these worldly endeavors, the more She loses sight of her mission which is (or at least, should be) the salvation of souls. 

It's embarrassing to be a on a losing team. Look how the Pentecostals are swallowing up Latin America. Look how the Orthodox are manly and have liturgical integrity. Look how the Muslims are outbreeding the infidels. Why haven't we cut our losses and switched up sides when it's so obvious how limp wristed and socially retarded the Church of today is?

Unlike Protestants, we cannot think of our faith outside of the institutional Church. For better or worse we are wedded to the Bride of Christ as members of His body, that bride to whom He has consummated his very self in a divine covenant. Without the Bread of Life, we risk dying of hunger. Without the waters of baptism, we have no share in His inheritance. Without Confession, we are liars (1 Jn 1:8). 

The other day I was reading from the ninth chapter of Ezekiel. It's like something out of a horror movie:

Then I heard him call out in a loud voice, “Bring near those who are appointed to execute judgment on the city, each with a weapon in his hand.” And I saw six men coming from the direction of the upper gate, which faces north, each with a deadly weapon in his hand. With them was a man clothed in linen who had a writing kit at his side. They came in and stood beside the bronze altar.

Now the glory of the God of Israel went up from above the cherubim, where it had been, and moved to the threshold of the temple. Then the Lord called to the man clothed in linen who had the writing kit at his side and said to him, “Go throughout the city of Jerusalem and put a mark on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the detestable things that are done in it.”

As I listened, he said to the others, “Follow him through the city and kill, without showing pity or compassion. Slaughter the old men, the young men and women, the mothers and children, but do not touch anyone who has the mark. Begin at my sanctuary.” So they began with the old men who were in front of the temple.

Then he said to them, “Defile the temple and fill the courts with the slain. Go!” So they went out and began killing throughout the city. While they were killing and I was left alone, I fell facedown, crying out, “Alas, Sovereign Lord! Are you going to destroy the entire remnant of Israel in this outpouring of your wrath on Jerusalem?”

He answered me, “The sin of the people of Israel and Judah is exceedingly great; the land is full of bloodshed and the city is full of injustice. They say, ‘The Lord has forsaken the land; the Lord does not see.’ So I will not look on them with pity or spare them, but I will bring down on their own heads what they have done.”

Then the man in linen with the writing kit at his side brought back word, saying, “I have done as you commanded.”

In this passage, only those who grieve and lament over all the detestable things done in the temple will be marked and spared. As Abraham negotiated with Yahweh in Genesis 18 over the fate of Sodom ("Will you wipe away the righteous with the wicked?"), he realizes he may lose the bargain if the terms are set at fifty righteous men. He talks the Lord down to ten--if ten righteous men can be found, the Lord will relent. And he still loses the wager, and Sodom is burned up in the Lord's wrath. Lot is a man who laments the wickedness of the perverts who visit his house; he is marked, and escapes the destruction.

The angels of the Lord are brandishing their knives. The words of the Baptist as well serve as warning, "His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire." This winnowing is a separation of the empty husks from the grain of the wheat--the wheat is tossed in the air and the chaff is blown away, while the grain falls and is collected. The grace of God is present in this refinement and striping down of all things until only the pure ore of faith remains. Anything we are holding on tightly to will be ripped from our hands in exchange for the passover mark. 

Our attachment to the Church as we know it will be stripped from us. This may be the shuttering of our local parish where we had our children baptized and family marriages. Or it may simply be the illusions we have that the Church as a whole is committed to its mission of saving souls, or our affinity for this or that Holy Father. 

Our attachment to the identity of being Catholic as we know it will be stripped from us. Those of us who enjoyed the good name of a respected cultural affiliation will now find ourselves religious minorities as true believers, like Jews wandering in Egypt. 

Our attachment to the Sacraments and the Holy Mass, which we have for so long taken for granted, will be stripped from us. We may find ourselves parched and spiritually adrift for periods of time, and lament how many times we could have gone to Mass and didn't, or confessed our sins to a priest, and didn't. 

Our attachment to the comfort of our country as we know it and the "religious liberty" we hold dear will be stripped from us. We may find ourselves as lambs among wolves, believers among pagans. Even so-called "conservative" idols we have set up and mingled with our faith will be smashed and burned.

Our attachment to our particular faith communities will be stripped from us. As our little Catholic bubbles pop, we may find ourselves in a dark night of loneliness, in which those we broke bread with leave the faith, or fail to be there for us in our times of need, or simply let us down. "Even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me" (Ps 41:9)

Our attachment to our celebrity idols, those online talking heads and commentators feeding us with opinion after opinion on this or that, will be stripped from us. The plug will be pulled, and we will find ourselves in the proverbial dark--with no one to turn to for advice or guidance, we will have to learn to trust in the dark and take responsibility for our own decisions. "It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb 10:31). 

Eventually, the whole temple of our Church, our community, our country, our identity, our pious clothes, our idols--it will all be torn in two, until not one stone will be left standing upon another (Mt 24:2) until one only thing is left for our faith to cling to, and that is Christ alone. Let it be a rebuke you take to heart for the salvation of your soul. This is the great and terrible grace of God working--that same grace that keeps us in the baroque of Peter despite all temptations to jump ship, despite all the abuse, the embarrassment of the hierarchy. Because it is not the Pope who steers the ship, nor the cardinals, nor your local priest, but CHRIST ALONE who commands our faith. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved" (Acts 16:31).

I am not Catholic because it's rewarding, or edifying, or encouraging, or conservative, or fun, or inclusive. I am Catholic because I have become a slave--not of the Church, not of the Pope, not of my community--but of Christ. And were it not for the grace of Christ, I would not remain. When everything is crumbling around you, the last pillar standing is Christ, in whom I have my faith. 

"50 Years of Marching": A Sober Reflection From The Trenches By A Veteran 'Lifer'

The following are the reflections of a good friend of mine who has tirelessly devoted her life to ending abortion--on the sidewalk, outside the mills, in the statehouses, with advocacy and witness. As I have never been to the March for Life (for a myriad of reasons, none of which are relevant here), and as someone whose own contributions to pro-life work pale in comparison to her own, I asked her what she thought about it. This is her reply (published with permission):

"I went on the first March for Life in 1974 with my parents while in high school. I continued to go during  high school, then while in college, also while a teacher back in Delaware and then as a board member of Delaware Right to Life, where  I organized the annual trip for almost 20 years.  I’ve missed very few Marches for Life.  

I’ve seen the event morph from a grass-roots protest against abortion with exclusively home-made signs and wall to wall people from all over the U.S., to a media event complete with live music, celebrity-status speakers (instead of a row of uncomfortable-looking bishops) Jumbo-trons, and a celebratory atmosphere that promotes “consensus.”  

Because there were zero activist options for pro-lifers until the rescue movement started in the late 80’s, I, like everyone else, made my annual pilgrimage and figured I had fulfilled my duty to help end abortion. 15 years of marching yielded only more speakers and longer delays to starting the March, slick, pre-printed signs whose messages grew every more syrupy, and a strong propensity towards hero-worship of politicians who did nothing to end abortion but talk about it.  15 years of “Hey, hey, ho, ho; Roe v. Wade has got to go!”  shouted by teenagers who largely disappeared from sight, sound, mind and body at March’s end.

I grew disenchanted with the slavish reliance on politicians (and Supreme Court judges) as potential saviors.  I also resented the Catholic clergy who swooped in on their capes for the photo ops and swooped back out, never to march, only to spread those capes over the Church’s gaping sin of omission before making a speedy exit.  I breathed open contempt at the politicians who left town the day of the March so they wouldn’t have to meet with us.  “Lobbying” legislators after the March was replaced by  pints at the Dubliner’s Pub, just down the street.  We lost our purpose, our rag-tag zeal, and our desire to change the status quo. We didn’t see that abortion was hardening us, too.   

The Rescue Movement that lasted from 1988-92 gave the first real glimmer of hope that something besides a political savior or Supreme Court decision could bring an end to abortion.  Housewives, teens, older folks, and everyone in between stopped abortion simply by sitting down in front of abortion clinics, sometimes 10 people deep.  Courage and conviction swelled and then was crushed by vicious politicians who enacted FACE and RICO laws to target the protesters with steep fines and jail time.  Clinton’s executive orders, signed on his first day in office in 1992, are still in effect.

The Happy Pro-Life movement emerged, looking to find “common ground.”  The new millennium saw ever-increasing numbers at the March for Life, as celebrity speakers and Christian rock bands took the stage.  There was (and is) an increasing tendency to compromise principles.  Nellie Gray’s “Life Principles” which demanded no exception, no compromise were already on shaky ground before her death in 2012, with a slew of regulatory laws on the books (such as the Born Alive Infant Protection Act, 2002, and the Partial Birth Abortion Ban Act, 2003).  That these laws were routinely ignored by the pro-abortion community and unenforced by any regulatory agencies was never discussed by pro-lifers.  And still they marched and the March became a huge social event, a place to catch up with people, spot “famous” pro-lifers, and yes, still go home and tick off your duty to the unborn for the year.

The apotheosis came with President Donald Trump’s appearance of at the March in 2020.  The crowd was jubilant and enormous.  The speeches drew the expected adulation and a million cell phones captured the moment.  And that is what the March for Life has become – a social media virtual reality event.  It requires no discomfort beyond standing in the cold for one day.  It demands nothing of the participants once they get back on the busses and leave DC. but that they post their pictures.  

We have marched for 50 years and not only has nothing changed; it has gotten worse.  We entirely neglected to consider the cumulative effects of child-killing on the general populace and as I stated earlier, we, like so many proponents of abortion, have become hard.  Roe has been reversed but the state laws taking its place are far worse.  They reflect the implanted evil that Roe has spread in its time, an evil that has taken over the culture.  

No protest march at the state capitols is going to reverse this trend.  

No state law banning abortion or heartbeat law will make a whit of difference when abortion pills are available through the mail and at your local pharmacy and Abortion Funds are willing to transport women to another state for a surgical abortion.  

No marches anywhere are going to change a society that doesn’t want to be changed; it wants its child murder as much as it wants its pornography and drugs.  It is addicted to decadence.  And we who are fighting it are addicted to comfort.

The only thing that will change the lust for death in this country is the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Faith, the triumphant return of Christ the King into the hearts of men.  But that Church is as fragmented and demented right now as the society it serves.  It, too, has lost its way.  A small Church militant is rising, but the future is uncertain.  

It comes down to being willing to suffer and die for our beliefs.  

It’s a lot to ask."  

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

*See also my post 10 Nov 2021 post People Want Abortion and 17 Dec 2021 post The New Art of War

If You Don't Flee, You're Going To Fall

 Sexual temptation should scare the hell out of a married man. There is a reason why St. Paul says there should not be even a hint of sexual immortality among the brethren (Eph 5:3), and that even a little leaven (of false teaching) works its way through the whole dough (Gal 5:9). Once you open that door, it's hard to shut. 

We have a conscience for a reason, and it should be well-formed. When it is, you know when certain actions are appropriate or inappropriate. We cannot always avoid temptation from besieging us, but we can use prudence to discern the situations we put ourselves in. Even then, the mind does not always rest. Thoughts and temptations that enter the mind that are not accented to are not sins, but temptations. And temptations are to be resisted. "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." (Ja 4:7)

Or are they? In his second letter to Timothy, St. Paul notes that we should be the ones fleeing such temptations and desires: "Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart." (2 Tim 2:22). 

So, when does one stand and resist the Devil, and when does one recognize that their best defense is to flee? 

When it comes to sexual temptation, we only have the upper hand insofar as we refuse to engage the temptation, whether in thought or action. Once the seed has taken root--and that may be lingering a few seconds too long on an image or memory, or purposefully knowing where to look or who to call, etc--it is slippery, wily, seductive...and much more difficult to leave alone. In this case, the best course of action is to flee the scene, as Joseph did from his master's wife (Gen 39:7-9). 

When we pause to entertain the possibility, even for a split second, we have the potential to lose our resolve. In fact, because of concupiscence, it is not that we hate what offends God, but that we are in fact attracted to it, pulled by it! The fruit of sensuality is sweet and intoxicating, and keeps temperance smothered in a nearby closet as it speaks. A man is undone by his member. 

It's not only our members, though, that will cause us to fall. It starts with the eye, the window to the soul. And even before that, thoughts arise from the mind. If I am entertaining memories of wistful times with an ex-girlfriend during the doldrums of my marriage, eventually that split second of thought turns to two. The next thing I know, my heart rate is up, I'm excited, discontent with the present and maybe even looking them up online, "just out of curiosity." Then you have situations like this, which are more common than you might think:

"Karen* was just going about her day when she logged into her Facebook account and saw a private message from Richard*. They casually dated back in high school and he wanted to catch up.

"At the first email contact," says the married mother of three, "he was a completely insignificant person from my high school past."

After weeks of exchanging emails and catching up with each other on life experiences, Karen asked Richard to call her. When she hung up the phone after an hour-and-a-half chat, Karen’s world came crashing down.

"By the time we ended that first call," Karen says, "I was sobbing because I knew I was in deep trouble with an attraction to him and realized [my] marriage was in deeper trouble than I had admitted to myself."

Her husband accused her of unfaithfulness by having these conversations and developing these feelings. She insisted she was driven to these conversations out of feeling emotionally stunted in the marriage. Although Karen and Richard never met face-to-face, her 16-year marriage eventually came to an end."

I actually had an incident come up in the past year which was maybe innocuous, but had the potential to defray. A female friend from college had reached out to me via LinkedIn because she had seem one of my articles. I hadn't spoken with her for years, so it was kind of exciting to reconnect, since she was a faithful Catholic as well. I gave her my number and told her to give me a call sometime. 

It was nice to catch up about the faith and our current lives, and she asked if it could be a weekly phone conversation. I was okay with a one-off conversation, and even a follow up one, but this felt a little...dangerous to me. Although there was a part of me that liked the idea, and I could kind of rationalize that it was innocent enough because we were talking about religious things, and she was in a different part of the country, the part of me that wasn't comfortable with it was enough to cast doubt on the wisdom of such engagement. If I continued on, I would be hiding it from my wife. So I brought it up to her (my wife), and deduced I would have to just be frank with my friend and tell her I couldn't continue with these kinds of conversations, innocent as they were. My wife concurred. I had to run away.

After I told my friend I couldn't have regular conversations with her, I didn't hear from her again, and that is probably for the best. I'm both a weak man and a naive one, and that's not a great combination. Were I to "resist" these attractions while still subjecting myself to them, the potential to be undone by them would be ever present. Best to just flee the scene, even if it is embarrassing or gruff. Apart from my faith, my marriage is the most important thing in my life. Even a hint of threat to it is too much. 

If your conscience is well formed, you know when there is a threat. I do have female friends who I speak with, but my wife knows them, and we have an "open phone/computer" policy. When my conscience tells me I have nothing to hide, I am at peace. But when I get that sneaky feeling, like "I don't want my wife to see this," that's a red flag. That's when you throw fire on that flame, stomp it out asap or run away like a little girl. Embarrassment or losing your coat is a small price to pay for a clean conscience. 

We do need to resist the Devil, so that he will flee from us, as St. James says. We don't need to be afraid of him when we are cloaked in the mantle of the Lord and our Lady. 

But we need to be smart--sometimes digging our heels in and fighting is not the best tactic. Fight when you need to fight, run when you need to run, and learn in prayer when to know the difference. Keep everything in the light, keep nothing secret from your spouse. The moment you start to feel excitement, tingling, anticipation, etc at the prospect of something that has the potential to turn into sin, you are playing with fire. And fire can spread quickly, and get out of control before you realize what's going on. 

Our first parents were not overtaken by brute strength in the garden, but a smooth tongue. And we are still paying the price of that fall. Don't make the same mistake! "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths" (Prov 3:5-6).

Have All The Babies

 Note: This is a repost from June 2021. It's my youngest's birthday today. We celebrated with Chinese food, a DIY obstacle course, and a homemade Spiderman cake. My wife was 43 when he was born five years ago--a miracle of sorts...our second-chance miracle of grace. We've made peace with the likely reality that we will not have any more children. I'm trying to take in the noise, the mess, and the crawling in between us in our bed. Because the fact is, each passing day erases a little bit of the childhoods under our roof the way a sand dune gets eroded a little bit each year. In five years, my oldest will be driving. In time, our house will be clean and quiet. But that makes me sad, truth be told. 

The self-serving trend towards millennials choosing a child-free life (and 77% reportedly being happy with the "freedom" gained by doing so) doesn't bode well for our future. A quote from the film Children of Men that stayed with me was when Kee's midwife reflects on the beginning of the infertility crisis in 2009, when people stopped getting pregnant and giving birth. "As the sound of the playgrounds faded," she said, "the despair set in. Very odd what happens in a world without children's voices."

Anyway, here's the repost:

 I don't give advice very often, but if anyone in their twenties or thirties was anxious about having kids and wanted my opinion, I would tell them at this point, "just have all the babies."

The concerns are always understandable--for me early in my career, when I wasn't making much money and we were juggling a lot and at our wits end with our two, it can be tempting to not be so open minded (and open-ended). This is the faulty promise of contraception, that you can "be done" and just get on with your life without the constant worry and anxiety that comes with being open to life.

But where does this anxiety come from in the first place? The contraceptive mentality is so prevalent in our culture it's like the air you breath or the water you drink. New life is a barrier to autonomy; it throws things off, wrecks best laid plans, causes financial hardship, and generally makes life harder. 

Is that such a bad thing? Satan wanted to be autonomous, loosed from the bonds of the Divine. Yes, new kids "throws things off," and sometimes upends our best laid plans--but when I think of the 'best laid plans' I have laid for myself and what God has put in their place, I'm constantly reminded that I don't always know what's best for me. Do kids cause financial hardship? Sometimes they do. Life is hard to begin with, but sometimes the hardest things bring out something good in us that wouldn't otherwise if we weren't pushed to trust that it's worth it. 

Babies are not a threat--they are pure gift, and the reason we all exist in the first place. We seem to have forgotten this. We don't "live to procreate," but take having babies out of the picture and it wouldn't be long before we all die out (see Children of Men). Underpopulation, not overpopulation, seems to be more a threat today in many countries thanks to the scar of contraception and may lead many countries to a demographic winter where there is no easy turning course on.

But no one has babies purely because they want to "save the planet." Some people do, however, choose not to have them because they "don't want to bring children into this world" or are fear-mongered into thinking they are being "irresponsible" by doing so or consuming "too many resources." 

I was talking to a mom at our fellowship get together on Wednesday at our house, and she mentioned that St. Alphonsus' Uniformity With God's Will (which we were studying and reflecting on during the course of the evening) felt kind of over her head. I told her that's ok, in scripture St. Paul says that women are saved through childbirth. "I've never read that," she said, with a bit incredulously. "Yep. First Timothy 2:15," I told her, and we looked it up. "Well, I'll be," she replied. "So take heart," I said, "You're doing great!"

The fact is, we are all saved through childbirth. Abortion and contraception introduce nothing but disorder, throwing a monkey-wrench into God's divine plan for happiness and salvation for mankind. This is not to speak of those who want children and can not have them (by way of infertility, for instance), but the decision to delay or prevent children for the sake of the things of this world and our short-sighted plans is, in my opinion, regrettable. I can say without doubt that as a father, "the children have made the man." The notion of sacrifice and protection is wired into us as men, but becoming a father organically taps into those primal characteristics and brings them to fruition. 

The Catholic plan for life is to be generous in regards to life. Some people do in fact have grave reasons to abstain through the use of NFP, but one should dig deep to look starkly at those reasons and discern their gravity. God is not trying to shortchange us--He wants to fill our cups to overflowing with the choicest wine. I think that children are that wine. Can they be overwhelming, taxing, hard to deal with? Sure. Are they worth it? You bet. 

I wish we would have been more open to life earlier in our marriage. Who knows how much more we would have been blessed. We changed course a little late, but God is good all the time, and we still pray that He might use us as His instruments to bring saints into the world. They can't do the work if they are not born. Who knows--you might be the soul they save in the end.

So have all the babies. It's my one regret in life, that we haven't had more. But we trust Him still. Listen to our Lord, "Fear not, for I have overcome the world" (Jn 16:33). Some of the richest people in the world are the most alone and unhappy. But for those rich in children, who may not have much but you trust that God wants them here--"You are already filled, you have already become rich, you have become kings without us" (1 Cor 4:8).

Big Tech Is The Next Big Tobacco

When I was in high school in the mid-90's, we would hit the local Perkins on a Friday night and order bottomless thermoses of coffee and smoke at our booths inside. Same for college--my dorm had a designated lounge (replete with commercial air filter) where we would hang out, pack tubes with Top tobacco on a little machine, and chain smoke. After college, some of the (dive) bars in Philly you could still smoke in, though others were starting to make you step outside.

Nowadays, I know very few people who smoke analog cigarettes. I don't think it's just my age. I work on a college campus, and I see very few students smoking either. It's just not cool. Vaping isn't really that widespread either, though. Most of the people I do see smoking tobacco are lower socio-economic class, and they're not doing it to be cool, but because they are addicted, and maybe it is one of the few precious things they can look forward to on break from their shift or whatever. 

I predict social media in all its forms is going to follow a similar trajectory. Myspace and Facebook were fun and interactive 15 years ago. People are starting to feel the dis-ease now, though, if they haven't already. They don't derive the same pleasure from it, find themselves wasting inordinate amounts of time on various platforms, realize their mental health and productivity is being negatively impacted; also, it's not really novel or cool anymore. The people who remain on it are eventually going to be like those shift workers smoking in the dirty alleys outside the restaurant or at the bus stop.

And I'm not even talking about this platform or that app in particular. I'm talking about an existence of perpetual connectivity in general. Those in big tech obviously engineered smartphones and social media apps to exploit our psychological vulnerabilities. They don't let their own kids use it. The addiction is not an incidental; it is inherent. Cal Newport thinks that handing your kids a smartphone today is the same as handing them a pack of cigarettes. We were all guinea pigs in this massive social experiment. But all it takes is a few kids in the class to simply say, "Nah," to swing the pendulum. Suddenly being a neo-Luddite is nouveau riche. 

In the movie Idiocracy where a man of average IQ is suddenly the smartest guy in the world because everyone else has been so dumbed down, he only seems to be by comparison. Likewise, those who unplug from the Big Tech matrix and do adopt more neo-Luddite sensibilities regarding technology will eventually find themselves having better concentration, increased memory, sharper focus, less anxiety, being comfortable with boredom and solitude, and not being ruled by compulsion to the point that it will appear to be a superpower. 

I'm of the generation where I remember a time before internet, cell phones. I remember those times fondly. For the younger generation, though, it is complete existential paradigm shift, and just as existentially scary. We can't necessarily "go back" completely or put the big tech genie back in the bottle as a society--but why not at least try for a pro-scripted amount of time on an individual level and let the data speak for itself. Say, maybe, forty days? 

Lent is just around the corner, after all. 

Friendship Is Always Conditional

 

One of the hardest pills for me to swallow in my adult life has been that none of my friends will be there with me through thick and thin, when things get ugly and I get ugly. No one will be with me to the bitter end. One of the hardest pills to swallow is that friendship is always conditional. 

I have always struggled with this, from high school on. Maybe I was spoiled by a family and parents that loved me unconditionally, even at my very worst. In an ideal world, we would have friends stand by us even when we change, when we do unconscionable things. In reality, I have not found this to be the case. 

And maybe for right reason. Employers don't like pension funds because they put them on the financial liability hook to their employees for life. Is it reasonable for them to incur that risk when people are living longer, and markets are volatile? Maybe not. 

Likewise, maybe my idea of people that will not distance themselves when you become a public embarrassment or a ghoul or a Democrat or an apostate is not reasonable. Maybe the conditional logic and clauses are the appropriate response: we are friends as long as you are Catholic. As long as you don't commit a crime. As long as I still like hanging out with you. As long as you don't get weird.

I've made and lost a lot of friends over the years. Very, very few people will stand by you when you are being crucified. If that's the case, these are the "friendships of utility" in which a quid pro quo unspoken understanding is that we have permission to peel off when we are not being fed by the other, or finding a lack of common bond as things change over the years. 

Again, I think this is just a matter of misplaced expectation. I don't have a friend in my life who has pledged to be there for me unconditionally, nor have I been that friend to others. It's a catch 22, isn't it? When we are younger, we do not have the virtue to be concerned about the ultimate good of another, but are concerned mostly with the emotive and utility (benefits) of the friendship. 

Yet, as we age and acquire virtue, the opportunities to develop true friendships--whether utilitarian or those based on the good--wane. Aristotle considered friendship a virtue, and "necessary for life." Whereas in the modern world, however, we get set in our ways, have families and work obligations, and most men simply deduce that friends are a luxury one can do without. 

Given that a true friendship founded on the good of the other requires trust, intimacy, virtue, self-deference, and vulnerability, it becomes like a needle in a haystack trying to find a male friend to which we can confide and bear burdens for. I'm obviously precluded from seeking such friendships with those of the opposite sex. And among those of my own, it can be very difficult to come by a man willing to enter into something like this. 

Realizing that I will probably never have a true friendship based in filial love and virtue to the level in which I would like is, as I said, a tough pill for me to swallow. Like realizing you'll never be a pro basketball player, or that you'll never do great things in your career. I feel foolish for waking up to it so late. So now it's a matter of adjusting expectations and coming to terms, in a kind of dark night, that maybe unconditional friendship really just is a luxury we are simply not afforded on this side of eternity. 

Right Speech: Charitable, Necessary, True

 We usually think of self-discipline in terms of the body--exercising, fasting, not indulging every whim of fancy. But I find the hardest discipline I've undertaken so far this year has been the discipline of the tongue.

In trying to be more conscious of my speech (which includes texting communication) and making 'every word count,' I find that I really need to be more deliberate and mindful when it comes to this practice. It is more instinctual to just spout off a barrage of words to fill the sometimes-awkward silence. I'm still working on it, and it definitely is not an overnight process. 

What helps is taking a brief pause before speaking, and hitting three check points that I've established for myself (probably borrowed from somewhere) to evaluate. We don't tend to emphasize "right speech" or "mindful speech" as much in Christianity as some of the Eastern traditions, which is fine but I find there is untapped potential in regulating our speech and paying attention to it more than we do. 

It's not unprecedented to do so, either. Paul lays out lays out a similar framework of good conduct in speech in his letter to the Ephesians:

Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. “In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Anyone who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful with their own hands, that they may have something to share with those in need.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. (Eph 4:25-32)

And so, my three 'checkpoints' before a word passes through customs and goes out into the world are as follows:

Is it Charitable?

"Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." 

Charity wills the good of another. But our speech is often self-indulgent. We seek to build up ourselves, make ourselves look good, paying no mind to the needs of our neighbors or even giving them an opportunity to speak themselves. Part of charity in right speech is listening, as well as affirming. 

But charity can also encompass admonishment, when another can benefit from having his bubble of ignorance popped, for instance, or when one needs to be called to the mat for something. It is not always flattery or dripping words of praise. It must be motivated by love of neighbor, and we typically know when we are or are not being led by love. 

Is it Necessary?

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."

Not everything that comes into one's head needs to be spoken. We use words carelessly as filler, like breadcrumbs in a meatloaf. We choke the air with many needless words, scaring off the dove from the branch of silence in which the Holy Spirit builds a nest. Silence is unnerving for many people. 

It's a simple test, and it has been effective at least for me to keep from unnecessarily texting to fill a void: you simply ask yourself "does this need to be said right now, and if so, what purpose does it serve?" As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm not taking a vow of silence, but trying to cull my words and texts by 75% so that only what is needed is communicated. It takes a LOT of practice, and intentionality. I find myself stopping as I'm whipping out my phone to consciously ask myself that very question. Nine times out of ten, what I want to say does not really need to be said. 

I do make exceptions with my own immediate family (my wife and children), though I'm hoping that the practice outside of that sphere rub off there as well.  

Is it True?

"Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body." 

We really need to be mindful of "speaking the truth in love," as scripture says. When we cull the unnecessary filler of words, there is more potency to truth when it is spoken and not clouded by dross and packaging. This means not lying, of course, but also "assuming the best" in others (which I am terrible with) and not exhibiting rash judgment. We may be tempted to tell someone off (which may or may not be true or warranted), but if it is not motivated by charity, it is probably left unsaid. 

So, all three conditions should be met before speaking or communicating with a brother or sister, whether pagan or in Christ, for our speech to be holy and worthy. The world doesn't need any more filler. What it needs is true, necessary charity.

No, You Don't "Need" A Spiritual Director

About six months ago I was invited to consider joining an online apostolate focused on advancing in the interior life. This organization was doing good work in the realm of offering community (albeit, 'virtually'), orthodox resources, retreats, and opportunities for spiritual direction. It seemed right up my alley. Until recently, I was active in the online community and had gone on a couple retreats, and had attended a few bi-weekly meetings via Zoom. I even had a brief pro-bono phone session with a priest who served as a bonafide spiritual director; after waiting three months to speak with him, I was given some refreshingly basic advice to do at least twenty minutes of mental prayer a day, and stay in a state of grace. 

Ultimately, though, I found this community wasn't for me, more for personal reasons than anything having to do with the apostolate itself, and I ended up deleting my profile.

For one thing, it was predominated by women. As a forty-something year old married father of three who deleted all my social media a couple years ago, I just didn't feel like "discussing" "spiritual" topics ad nauseum on the message boards was necessarily deepening my prayer life or the best use of my time. Fr. Ripperger made mention in a talk recently that women reportedly derive ten times the amount of pleasure from talking/conversing/discussing than men do. I found that interesting.

I also found myself uncomfortable with the perhaps unconscious message that I would be hindered from making significant progress in the interior life apart from such a community, who seem to have "cornered the spiritual market" and set themselves up as experts in the interior life. Again, this is an admirable organization for helping people in this regard, if it in fact deepens their sacramental and prayer life. I just didn't find that was the case for me, personally. I also maintain that while they may serve a purpose, online communities are not real communities due to the lack of accountability and encounter.

I continue to do twenty minutes of mental prayer daily, attend daily Mass when I can, read scripture and spiritual classics, daily rosary, weekly holy hour, monthly Confession, periodic fasting, engage in the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, and avoid mortal sin at all costs. For me, this is the K.I.S.S. (Keep It Simple, Silly) approach. I figure if I exercise the will as best I can, God will supply the grace and give me what I need to grow closer to him in divine intimacy.  It's not like I'm dwelling in the advanced interior castles of divine union here. 

It's not that I think spiritual direction is unnecessary; I'm simply piloting my own boat by necessity.  Since I am no expert in navigating the interior life myself, and since my only guide at this point is the writings of the saints, the Scripture and Magisterium, and the Holy Spirit, I'm sure I could benefit from periodic spiritual direction.

The problem, as most ardent Catholics know, is that trained Spiritual Directors are not easy to come by. The ones who solicit directees are suspect by the very fact that they desire the role, and the solid priests and religious who reluctantly take on custody of souls are usually few and far between, with demand for their counsel far outstripping supply. 

It's not that for lack of trying, either. I've had a variety of spiritual directors in the past--from a heterodox Jesuit, to a pay-per-visit Augustinian, to a cloistered Trappist, to a monk a two hour drive from my house, it's been a mixed bag of experience. I've come to the conclusion at this point that the relationship between spiritual director and directee is such a weighty one soteriologically speaking, that I would rather have no spiritual director than have one who gives bad spiritual direction. 

In The Dignities and Duties of the Priest, St. Alphonsus quotes saint after saint on the terrible burden of ordination. I would apply these quotes to any would-be Spiritual Directors who take on the custody and direction of souls as well:

"St. Cyprian said, that all those that had the true spirit of God were, when compelled to take the order of priesthood, seized with fear and trembling, as if they saw an enormous weight placed on their shoulders, by which they were in danger of being crushed to death.

"I see," said St. Cyril of Alexandria, "all the Saints frightened at the sacred ministry, as at an immense charge."

St. Epiphanius writes, that he found no one willing to be ordained a priest. A Council held in Carthage ordained that they that were thought worthy, and refused to be ordained, might be compelled to become priests. 

St. Gregory Nazianzen says: "No one rejoices when he is ordained priest."”

 

To address this short supply of, and overwhelming demand for spiritual direction, lay people (again, largely women) have sought to undergo some form of training or certification to become "spiritual directors." I would have to agree with Patrick Madrid here, however, that except in certain rare exceptions, lay people are simply not qualified or competent to serve as spiritual directors, and that even lay people who have some formal training in theology do not, by virtue of that fact, have the requisite qualities necessary to be spiritual directors.

Not only are women the ones who predominate these certification programs in spiritual direction, but it is women also who are the ones primarily seeking out spiritual direction themselves. Whether this is because women by and large process things through verbal communication (ie, talking) and benefit from a listening ear, or if women themselves are more spiritually minded, I do not know. But what ends up happening more often than not is not formal, trained direction, but simply listening and perhaps counseling. Not that the intentions aren't good, but it can be a case of the blind leading the blind. 

Another potential pitfall in securing a spiritual director (should you be so fortunate) is the temptation of deference of responsibility for one's spiritual choices and their subsequent consequences. "My spiritual director said I should x," or "My spiritual director recommended I read y" can have the potential to lead someone into thinking they need to consult their SD regarding a myriad of decisions which, realistically, they could make without such consultation. 

This symbiotic relationship can develop into a kind of spiritual dependency if one is not careful, where we feel we must seek consult for every last thing. Now, certainly, one-off spiritual direction can come in handy during major life changes to help navigate situations in which there are a lot of factors at play. All of us can benefit periodically from having someone to bounce ideas off of. 

But God gives us the faculties of reason because he also expects us to make use of them; we don't need to overly-spiritualize everything. Most of us laity are basic Catholics with basic (common) Catholic problems that are often rectified with general and common-sense advice like the advice I got from my phone consult with the priest-spiritual director: Don't commit mortal sin; do at least twenty minutes of mental prayer a day. Read your Bible. Pray your rosary. Take part in acts of charity. Etc. 

Where this leaves me as a forty-something year old man seeking to advance in the interior life? I don't know, honestly. In an ideal world, we would all have a priest or religious to be our personal spiritual director, we meet monthly, and we advance to the upper echelons of sublime contemplation and divine union in our lifetime. 

In reality, most of us are just trying to piece together a spiritual life like beggars getting second-hand goods donated from a variety of shops. We listen to good Catholic sermons and exhortation on Youtube. We read the catechism, and the spiritual classics like The Spiritual Combat, Introduction to the Devout Life, The Imitation of Christ, and do the best we can. We don't always know "how to pray as we ought," but fall back on the Lord's Prayer, the holy rosary, and simply Adoration. And, of course, regular confession.

On that note, a regular Confessor may be able to serve a more appropriate role, and be easier to come by than a spiritual director for lay men. There is the grace of the sacrament in the forgiveness of sins for one thing. There is also the regularity (once a month, at minimum) and familiarity of going to the same priest, provided they have a baseline of basic spiritual advisement in the context of one's sins, and can provide encouragement and gentle admonishment as needed. 

I have to believe that God gives us every tool, every grace we need to become saints--not through some pre-scripted program or membership club, or only for those who have the privilege of having a spiritual director, but for all people--men and women, young and old, from the simplest illiterate beggar to the most learned theologian. The secret of grace is that it completes in us what we cannot complete ourselves--that is, our sanctification. 

If you have access to solid spiritual direction or the consult of a regular SD, good on you. But Catholics who do not have this privilege should not feel anxious, or that they have no hope of advancing in the spiritual life in that absence. God gives us everything we need, because His ultimate desire is as basic as the first line of the Baltimore Catechism: that we know Him, love Him, and serve Him in this world, and be happy with Him forever in the next. To that end, as baptized Catholic sons and daughters of God, we are lacking in no good thing.

Penance Should Come From Love Of God, Not Hatred Of Self

There is a story in the Buddhist world that a Westerner once asked the Dalai Lama "What do you think about self-hatred?" The Dalai Lama was startled by the question, and kept asking his translator what the person meant. Eventually, after a long while of trying to get to the heart of the question, he admitted, “I thought I had a very good acquaintance with the mind, but now I feel quite ignorant. I find this very, very strange.”

As the calendar rolled over to the new year, I was surprised to find myself not only making various resolutions--both corporal and spiritual--but carrying them out. I began taking ice cold showers, exercising in the morning, fasting more often, cutting out caffeine,  and even carrying through on an internal resolution to be more intentional about speaking. I've been to Mass and adoration almost every day this past week. These practices themselves are all fine and good, potentially beneficial, and biblically traditional.

None of that really matters, though, because my motivation in undertaking them is out of alignment with the Divine will. To put this in context, I recounted the words of St. John Cassian in a previous post,

"Self -reform and peace are not achieved through the patience which others show us, but through our own long- suffering towards our neighbor. When we try to escape the struggle for long-suffering by retreating into solitude, those unhealed passions we take there with us are merely hidden, not erased: for unless our passions are first purged, solitude and withdrawal from the world not only foster them but also keep them concealed, no longer allowing us to perceive what passion it is that enslaves us. On the contrary, they impose on us an illusion of virtue and persuade us to believe that we have achieved long-suffering and humility, because there is no one present to provoke and test us. But as soon as something happens which does arouse and challenge us, our hidden and previously unnoticed passions immediately break out like uncontrolled horses that have long been kept unexercised and idle, dragging their driver all the more violently and wildly to destruction. Our passions grow fiercer when left idle through lack of contact with other people. Even that shadow of patience and long-suffering which we thought we possessed while we mixed with our brethren is lost in our isolation through not being exercised.

If then we wish to receive the Lord's blessing we should restrain not only the outward expression of anger, but also angry thoughts. More beneficial than controlling our tongue in a moment of anger and refraining from angry words is purifying our heart from rancor and not harboring malicious thoughts against our brethren. The Gospel teaches us to cut off the roots of our sins and not merely their fruits. When we have dug the root of anger out of our heart, we will no longer act with hatred or envy. 'Whoever hates his brother is a murderer' ( I John 3:15), for he kills him with the hatred in his mind." (pp 85-86)

It is clear that this window dressing of piety (while objectively good) is, in fact, motivated by not only a hatred of self, but of my neighbor.  

Something Thomas a Kempis wrote stayed with me, 

"A fervent religious accepts all the things that are commanded him and does them well, but a negligent and lukewarm religious has trial upon trial, and suffers anguish from every side because he has no consolation within and is forbidden to seek it from without."

This "suffering anguish from every side because he has no consolation within and is forbidden to seek it from without" I have often thought about when I catch myself envying the dead, when each day feels like a punishment to endure rather than a gift to give thanks for. I can't kill myself. And yet I have to go on living. I have no consolation within (peace of spirit, charity) and yet I can't end this suffering prematurely as I would often wish."Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." (Ps 42:11). 

And so, my initial motivation to undertake these various penances is to not only mortify the flesh, but to punish it. Punish my very self for having to exist...for having to keep on living, for not having the grace of being hit by a bus or something. When I do fail to punish my flesh--that is, when I end up eating (ending a three day fast a day early out of weakness), or skip a day of exercise, the cycle of self-hatred perpetuates. The way one talks about a "successful" suicide being one that is carried out--and when one lives, that it is a "failed attempt."

Needless to say, I would better off abandoning it all in favor of charity of neighbor, so that I may love my brother as my self.

 St. Moses the Black had some good insight on the futility of going toe-to-toe with the flesh in this way: "You fast, but Satan does not eat. You labor fervently, but Satan never sleeps. The only dimension with which you can outperform Satan is by acquiring humility, for Satan has no humility.”

Humility, and charity, are severely lacking in my life right now. If these mortifications were motivated by and combined with charity and humility, they would be a powerful force. But as they stand currently, they are nothing but an uncomfortable and resounding gong.

I will continue to exercise and cause discomfort to my body, take the cold showers, fast regularly, hold my tongue...because it is good for my body and my mind. But there is no spiritual merit there at present, and I will not fool myself otherwise. My heart is cold, the well of charity dry. God help me, I long for the respite of death, and death doesn't come. I feel spurned by others, and spurn them myself. I sit in the back pew at church, trying to disappear. I don't know how to love, and I don't know who will teach me. "For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out" (Rom 7:18). 

Charity is the scale of judgment. It is the only thing we exist for as Christians, and the only thing we will be remembered by. Penance is a way to serve charity, not the other way around. 

Sede Priests: Trannies of the Trad World

 There was a guest on the Joe Rogan Experience last year; I thought, "aw, she's kind of cute." Then I realized she was a guy. (Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me!) 

Funny, though...a friend traveling through Connecticut was looking for a TLM, and found a traditional chapel but asked me and another guy via text if we had heard of it. Given that it wasn't listed in the diocesan directory, it was either a) SSPX; b) Old Catholic; or c) Sedevacantist. I wagered "C," and I won the round. 

One idiosyncratic giveaway was the website looked similar to a sede chapel in Jersey I drove by once, and looked up later. The priests there can trace their lineage all the way back to 1981!

1981 Ngo Dinh Thuc Consecrations Table (2018, Andrei Casey)

I was cleaning out some books yesterday and came across the Padre Pio pamphlet I picked up at a St. Pio shrine giftshop in Jersey years ago. It belongs in the trash, as it is a sede 'zine, compliments of none other than the infamous Br. Michael Dimond of Most Holy Family "Monastery" in New York. 

There is someone we know who used to go to our parish who hosts secret "underground" masses at an undisclosed address downstate, and even though it would be more convenient for us to attend something like this while down at the beach, I keep my distance because I suspect it's a sede priest. I'm not going to ask to see his consecration papers anymore than I would ask a transvestite to "show me the equipment" to prove whether they are male or female. You just hope your intuition is right that something is a little "off" and you decline the date. 

It's an affront, though. Imagine meeting an attractive person, striking up good conversation, and then realizing they are not a woman at all.  Sede priests pass themselves off as Catholic as downplay their blatant rupture with being under the authority of the Pope. Like Satan himself, who did not want to be under authority, they "go their own way" and act in defiance. To unsuspecting trad-sympathetic folks just looking for a reverent TLM, they play the part well. 

Pope Benedict XVI quoted St. Jerome in his 22 Feb 2006 General Audience to emphasize the "safe harbor" of the Seat of Peter: "I decided to consult the Chair of Peter, where that faith is found exalted by the lips of an Apostle; I now come to ask for nourishment for my soul there, where once I received the garment of Christ. I follow no leader save Christ, so I enter into communion with your beatitude, that is, with the Chair of Peter, for this I know is the rock upon which the Church is built" (cf. Le lettere I, 15, 1-2).

Just as you wouldn't date a tranny (because they are founding their existence on falsehood, but also for obvious reasons), don't fall prey to traditionalism at all costs...especially not at the cost of legitimate obedience and apostolic authority. Ask anyone in deliverance/exorcism ministry and you know "you do not step outside of your sphere of authority." I'd take a banal Novus Ordo over a sede Mass any day (and yes, I realize the Eucharist confected in Sede chapels is valid). For the Chair of Peter is the rock upon which the Church is built.

#savageandtrue

 

Hate to say it, but there's a lot of truth in this tweet. I think about it every time someone dies, and I think it will be true for me as well. Of course, to the one to whom your absence leaves a gaping hole, who *do* give a sh*t about you, these losses are not so easily forgotten or healed. That is usually family, and maybe a one or two close friends if you are fortunate. 

It's not morose, it's not mean, and it's not even depressing. It's just very perceptive. There is some freedom there--the freedom from the illusion that you are more important than you are, that your work or your contributions to society will be enshrined somehow, when most likely it won't even take ten years to forget everything you've ever done. It also can allow us the freedom in realizing that, that the only thing that matters is your eternal trajectory, your standing before God, and your judgment. Everything else is toppings on the coffin.

I do check in on Steve from time to time--he's wounded, cynical, jaded, and apostate, but I also think he hits the mark sometimes. I give him credit for that. 

I'm working on letting go of that expectation that people will remember me when I'm gone. I already have friends who I used to talk to regularly who have drifted away; this has happened consistently over the years, so it shouldn't surprise me. Like I said, there's some freedom there, if I can shift my expectations to bring them in line with the realization that yes, most people just have "their own issues to worry about," and you are not in the forefront of their thoughts--even when you find yourself in periods of great need. 

That's okay! I don't blame them. I probably do the same thing! I am a king of misplaced expectations. I think the sooner we can let that go, the more we realize that those who would feel that hole of our absence for years on end...is a very short list. 

Lost In Translation

"A perfect mortification is to avoid speaking without having to, for that is a great fault in a Christian soul. We must fear, we must avoid useless conversations because of the sins we commit in them and the time we waste in them."

St. Teresa of Avila

I currently got hooked on a bit of synth-pop via Mr. Kitty's "After Dark" dubbed over splices of the 2003 film Lost in Translation. Though this musical genre is new to me, it's been an ethereal meditation personally, syncing with my own feelings of loneliness, disconnect, and isolation as of late. The film itself (which I saw years ago) is an artfully done "romantic melancholy" working within the confines of emotional (rather than sexual) intimacy between two American strangers in Tokyo--poignant scraps of connection in a modern day world of disconnection. 

A look, a gesture, a touch--all sans words in the music video--are akin to the economics of words within poetry, all while eliciting a cogent sense of presence and longing, the lingering taste of the hangover of loneliness. In the words of Ezra Pound, "use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation." 

I started writing thirty years ago inspired by the poetry of the 17th century Japanese haiku masters--Buson, Basho, Issa. Haiku is the poetry of the real, as the saying goes. Within the confines of a 3 line, 5-7-5 sylable structure, the poet has no words to waste. But because the essence of haiku is experiential, the words themselves must become wordless--the pure translation of experience. Time, too, is transcended in a moment of presence. Take for instance this haiku of Yosa Buson (1716-84), which has stayed with me to this day from when I read it decades ago:

Pressing sushi;

After a while,

A lonely feeling

In the context of the Faith, we can experience this transcendence in the reception of the Eucharist, the direct, subjective, poetic experience of the Divine, within the established and objective 5-7-5 rubrics of the Mass. We are transported from our present state to Calvary, to the Upper Room, to the bosom of the Lord with St. John...that is, when we are paying attention and enter into the reality we consume--when we become what we eat.

This wordless communion, and the silence therein, has led me to reflect on this neglected bit of scripture, the words of our Lord, 

"But I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall render an account for it in the day of judgment" (Mt 12:36).

Every idle word. Were I to take a true, honest inventory of the words I expel daily so carelessly...well, it is an indictment. The more I reflect on it, the more I want to sanctify not just my thoughts and actions, but the words which I speak. They should be korban, "something which draws close," not fodder for conversation, caloric filler to take up space in the atmosphere, or random texts sent to distract me from my present state of being. More often then not, our words are spoken in order to choke the silence rather than sanctify the air.

It is very difficult to intentionally starve our environment of words so that we mindfully use only what is necessary to convey a point, a direction, a salutation, an experience. But I'm going to make it a New Years resolution of sorts to try.

Not speaking at all (a "vow of silence") is not especially practical, but I do think I could cut the amount of words I speak and texts I send in a day by 75% and still function and communicate effectively. In our daily life, we deflate our currency with the frivolity of our barrage of ill-conceived words the way the Fed prints money. It's going to take some thoughtfulness, and pausing to think first. It may involve some discomforting periods of letting verbal fields lay fallow. Like the haiku artist, each word must serve a function--to be charitable, intentional, meaningful, and fruitful. 

But I'd like to undertake this challenge--to re-frame my loneliness as a power rather than a weakness, imbibing meaning in each word spoken rather than diffusing it through frivolous manners of simply talking for its own sake. To listen first, and speak second. To say only what needs to be said, text only what needs to be texted, and nothing more. To respect the role of meditation in daily life, painting with minimal strokes on the canvas of silence. To respect the Lord who oppressed and afflicted "opened not his mouth" (Is 53:7). To be mindful of my judgment. "Keep silence," writes St. Paul of the Cross, "like a golden cross destined to preserve the treasure of the other virtues. Whoever keeps his tongue, keeps his soul." 

I don't want my words to be used against me in the heavenly court. "For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned" (Mt 12:37). I cannot take back the torrent of trifles that have spilled from my mouth over the decades, rendering judgment, causing scandal, breaking down rather than building up, decaying the enamel of how many souls, polluting my environment with excess of language. But I can repent and turn off the faucet starting today to be judicious, thoughtful, sober, tempered with regards to my words. No one is owed any of them. 

Grateful Addicts and the Felix Culpa

 

New Years Day has been a sober affair for me the past few years. Since my wife usually works overnights on New Years Eve, I'm in with the kids--we drink fizzy soda, have a little dance party, and do a YouTube countdown to midnight. Because I'm not drinking or smoking typically, I wake up grateful the whole affair is over and feeling rather good. I was up at 6:30am this morning, did fifteen minutes on the elliptical, took a cold shower, had a protein shake and coffee, and listened to a podcast on the neuroscience of addiction.

The period between Christmas and New Years is a consistently a hard period for me mentally, and I have on more than one occasion been tempted to pause "just saying no" to indulge in my addiction. I have so far resisted, but it keeps knocking on the door daily like a Jehovah's Witness that can't take a hint. 

Recovery is the epitome of the synthesis of grace and work. God saves us, pulls us from the miry pit and places us on a rock--but he expects us to do the work (aided by grace) of enduring suffering, and exercising our free will, in order to not hop off, to stay rooted in sobriety. Sometimes it is minute by minute or hour by hour, just to keep saying "no" to sin and slavery, and "yes" to life and freedom. 

There is an expression sometimes used in twelve steps of being a "grateful addict." It's a curious phrase, isn't it, to attribute gratefulness to something that may have robbed you of everything you have, stolen everything from you that you love.

But think about the Easter proclamation of the Felix Culpa (O Happy Fault), and it may have a theological context:

O love, O charity beyond all telling,

to ransom a slave you gave away your Son!

O truly necessary sin of Adam,

destroyed completely by the Death of Christ!

O happy fault

that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!

We often pine and lament our lot here on earth, that we had it so good in the garden and that Adam and Even had to go screw it up. God, in His goodness, did not desire us to sin and be subjected to the punishment due to disobedience--but his also omnipotence, He knew we would fall. Christ existed before time, and so, in fact, the Fall was 'factored in' to the divine economy, and Christ's incarnation a necessary part of making the wrong right again (something we could not do on our own). 

St. Ambrose had a series of meditations on this mystery of how even sin can be used and redeemed by God: “My fault has become for me the price of redemption, through which Christ came to me. For me Christ tasted death. Transgression is more profitable than innocence. Innocence had made me arrogant, transgression made me humble” (De Iacob et vita beata, I, 21)

There is also what Dostoevsky wrote in Notes From the Underground that I think is a worthy meditation on this topic,

“Shower upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in bliss so that nothing but bubbles would dance on the surface of his bliss, as on a sea...and even then every man, out of sheer ingratitude, sheer libel, would play you some loathsome trick. He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to introduce into all this positive rationality his fatal fantastic element...simply in order to prove to himself that men still are men and not piano keys.”

We can never go back to the Garden, as much as we may desire to; it simply is not our lot. Daily we toil for our bread, we experience death, and concupiscence is our constant companion. Life is work, struggle, and loss. We think, "if only I would have married this person instead of that person," or "my life would have been perfect if I never would have touched x substance." And yet, there is beauty in the contrast, and meaning in our suffering and trial. Look at what St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans: 

"The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom 5:20-21)

Sometimes, God uses our brokenness and falls for His glory and our redemption. Were we left to be eating spiritual cakes all day, shielded like princes from the horror of death and suffering, we would grow plump with spiritual comfort and prideful at our mastery. 

For what does David say? "For you, God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let people ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance" (Ps 66:10-12). 

And Isaias: "Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction" (Is 48:10).

And St. Peter: "And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you" (1 Pt 5:10).

Grateful sinners, like grateful addicts, recognize that our bottoming out in life can be redemptive to the degree that we look up and see the hand of Christ stretching down to take hold of us. A Christ whose supreme beauty we would never have laid eyes on were it not for sin. O happy fault, that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer.