Asleep On A Pillow

We experienced a small miracle today: Rome granted permission for our pastor to continue to celebrate the Latin Mass in our diocesan parish. Our pastor,who is the judicial vicar for the diocese, had anticipated the rescript and our (new) bishop had sought a dispensation a few months ago, which was granted by the Holy See. Our pastor made this announcement to the congregation at the 11 o'clock high Mass. 

I was not expecting that kind of news. In fact, for the past few months, I had been anticipating the worst and speculating about our fallback options as a family. I am not an optimist by nature; I also tend to worry and project into the future to predict future outcomes. I see the glass as half empty and that death by dehydration is imminent. I'm often fed doomer projections by priest and lay friends alike, and get temporarily worked up. 

Worked up like the disciples in the boat with Jesus during the squall in Mark 4:38. You can cut the anxiety in that scene with a knife, and imagine the disciples desperately seeking reassurance to allay their fears of, well, dying: "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" they cry. "Jesus," you can almost hear them say, "We're going to be okay, right? Right?" Instead of reassurance, though, they earn rebuke. And not for their fear, per se, but for their lack of faith.. Not only that, they woke Jesus up from his pillow nap. 

Who sleeps through a tempest at sea? Someone who has one hundred percent assurance that God is in control of the situation. Who is untroubled at the outcome. Who sees with eyes of faith. 

For those who have staked their faith lives on worshiping in the usus antiquior, these can feel like anxious times in which we are trying to build a house and foundation on bedrock of sand. Are we the plaything of Rome, to be batted around at will like a cat with a mouse? Will we be thrown a bone for a year or two, as the concession akin to that of a benevolent dictator keeping his subjects on a short leash?

You know, this could very well be the case. And we may be the exception to the rule. You don't have to naively believe in the benevolence of those in the Vatican. But you also don't have to de facto assume the worst about things, which is what I have gotten in the habit of doing, and even more so in the past two years as I've been steeped in all things traditionalist. Again, it's not without good reason to be skeptical and on guard, either. 

But today, I'm choosing to not take the doomer mindset, the scoffer perspective, the incredulous doubt of the apostle Thomas. Instead, I'm counting the reprieve as a moment of unmerited grace. 

What if tomorrow, though, it was all taken away from us at the whim of the Dicastery for Divine Worship? Is the Lord instead trying to teach us something--a divine deference, a holy indifference, a virile passivity, an admonition against anxiety and distress? What if in applying ourselves and leaning in to the whispers of the Holy Spirit we learn to say, "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away--blessed be the name of the Lord!" (Job 1:21)?

Anxiety about what we can't control is so pernicious. Perhaps that's what St. Francis de Sales was getting at when he advised,

"If any one strives to be delivered from his troubles out of love of God, he will strive patiently, gently, humbly and calmly, looking for deliverance rather to God's Goodness and Providence than to his own industry or efforts; but if self-love is the prevailing object he will grow hot and eager in seeking relief, as though all depended more upon himself than upon God. I do not say that the person thinks so, but he acts eagerly as though he did think it. Then if he does not find what he wants at once, he becomes exceedingly impatient and troubled, which does not mend matters, but on the contrary makes them worse, and so he gets into an unreasonable state of anxiety and distress, till he begins to fancy that there is no cure for his trouble. Thus you see how a disturbance, which was right at the outset, begets anxiety, and anxiety goes on into an excessive distress, which is exceedingly dangerous.

This unresting anxiety is the greatest evil which can happen to the soul, sin only excepted. Just as internal commotions and seditions ruin a commonwealth, and make it incapable of resisting its foreign enemies, so if our heart be disturbed and anxious, it loses power to retain such graces as it has, as well as strength to resist the temptations of the Evil One, who is all the more ready to fish (according to an old proverb) in troubled waters.

Anxiety arises from an unregulated desire to be delivered from any pressing evil, or to obtain some hoped-for good. Nevertheless nothing tends so greatly to enchance the one or retard the other as over-eagerness and anxiety. Birds that are captured in nets and snares become inextricably entangled therein, because they flutter and struggle so much. Therefore, whensoever you urgently desire to be delivered from any evil, or to attain some good thing, strive above all else to keep a calm, restful spirit,--steady your judgment and will, and then go quietly and easily after your object, taking all fitting means to attain thereto. By easily I do not mean carelessly, but without eagerness, disquietude or anxiety; otherwise, so far from bringing about what you wish, you will hinder it, and add more and more to your perplexities." (Introduction to the Devout Life, Part IV, Ch 11)

 

Part of this anxiety for traditionalists is because we want to know where our bread is coming from tomorrow. But we are given manna from the sky only today. It is not trite to trust in the God who gives us enough light to illuminate the path only right in front of us, while the rest of the dark path we walk by faith. The scripture is not trite in admonishing us to trust, not fear, that we will be cared for, given what we need to live:

"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they?  And which of you by taking thought, can add to his stature by one cubit?  And for raiment why are you solicitous? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they labour not, neither do they spin.  But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these.  And if the grass of the field, which is today, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, God doth so clothe: how much more you, O ye of little faith?

Be not solicitous therefore, saying, What shall we eat: or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed?  For after all these things do the heathens seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things.  Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.  Be not therefore solicitous for tomorrow; for the morrow will be solicitous for itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." (Mt 6:25-33)

This morning at Mass, we also had lavished upon us another gift of hope, on a more local level: a man we had gotten to know for a brief time came into the Church. He was to be received at Easter, but due to job circumstances and an impending move, concessions were made for him to be Confirmed and receive his First Holy Eucharist today at the 11 o'clock Mass. A man who was dead in sin, who now lives and has become an adopted son of God robed in white. A man who has found the well that never runs dry.

These are the things, the sign posts, the cairns we are meant to be focusing on. We cannot always change the circumstances, but we can adjust our perspective. We can put on blinders if need be, be selective about who and what we listen to, eschewing Chicken Littles in the Catholic media who feed on drama and distress for their daily bread. Our circumstances are not always within our power. To the degree that we become people of hope, allayed of anxiety and long faces, who shine with the assurance of divine adoption, that is within our power. 

My wife usually starts dreading going into her overnight shifts a week before she actually goes in. As a result, she tends to rob herself of peace for that week leading up to it. It's hard not to, but I told her maybe this week, try not thinking about it at all and just trusting that it will all be fine. 99% of the time, it is. And even when it's not, God has always given her the fortitude to overcome whatever she was thrown in the ER. 

For a lot of us, we've been doing the same thing with regards to our beloved Latin Mass. We fret and we make concession plans. We worry about our children, and how they will receive the sacraments. We take the current unfavorable situation and cast it into the future in the same trajectory with one hundred percent certitude. We shield ourselves from accusations of naivete by assuming the worst--the worst about motives, about outcomes, about the ability to live out our faith the way we envision it should be lived out. And that all could very well play out. 

Or, it could not. 

I think our pastor had a measured approach of taking to heart the sixth chapter of St. Matthew's gospel: that we should not worry, that it does no good, does not change things, does not add to our life, does not enrich our current circumstance, does not accomplish anything really. It even robs us of faith, which is why our Lord rebukes the disciples in the storm from his pillow as a lesson to them: trust is greater than fear, and a prerequisite for faith. And faith extends just beyond the spiritual, but even the material and corporal. Our homes. Our livelihoods. Our churches. Our communities. Our families. There is no aspect of our lives that God is not in control of and has neglected to account for. He wills the good for those who love Him (Rom 8:28).  

Today I witnessed a man born again, ransomed from death into life, before my very eyes. He has been adopted into our family of faith. He now lives, lifted from the miry pit by the strong arm of grace. 

After Mass, I went over to him as he sat alone in the front pew after his adoption, and embraced him. It warmly took me back to my own confirmation and First Holy Communion 25 years ago in a sleepy Byzantine church, sponsored by an older couple from the parish that I hardly knew, but who loved me and stood beside me that day as a miracle took place--a dead man being brought to life. 

These signs of hope are what fortify us, and lead us to remember the First Things of faith; when we too were babes, taking milk for food, naive of the hardships to come, the temptations and disappointments. On the day of our redemption, we too were innocent and basking in the warm glow of grace. We were oblivious to the storms raging in the world outside. There was only today. On that first day of the rest of our lives, we were not anxious or distressed. We simply napped in the arms of Christ, asleep on a pillow. 

Lent And The Human Desire For Self-Discipline

 I recently had a conversation with Matt Swaim of The Coming Home Network about this topic, which I thought was a good one. Christianity does not have a copyright on fasting and asceticism, as it is taken up by almost every ancient religious tradition. Even in the secular world, things like time-restricted eating and cold exposure are gaining interest. And as I mention in the podcast, I was attracted to this kind of moral code and self-denial even before I became a Christian, which I tried to live out in Straight-Edge underground hardcore scene.

But in our own Catholic faith, it's often not so much the "why" behind what motives us to undertake various disciplines, but the "Who."

It's about an hour long, but may be of interest to some of you. Pat Flynn (Chronicles of Strength is his podcast, focusing on fasting, fitness, philosophy, and minimalism) is the other gentleman on the podcast (he's on the left side of the screen, I'm on the right). I enjoyed the conversation.

I pray your Lent is off to a good start. Remember, it's a marathon, not a sprint!

Penance, my child. Penance

 And what a penance. The timing, though:

https://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2023/02/rescriptum-ex-audientia-from-yesterdays.html

Happy Shrove Tuesday.

"Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven." (Mt 5:44)

One Thing Is Necessary: A Reflection for Quinquagesima Sunday

I don't know about you, but these readings in the traditional calendar during the past few weeks have just really spoke to me and are so timely. Consider the Epistle today:

"Brethren: If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil: Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void or tongues shall cease or knowledge shall be destroyed. For we know in part: and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. We see now through a glass in a dark manner: but then face to face. Now I know in part: but then I shall know even as I am known. And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity." (1 Cor 13:1-13).

Paul (and by extension, the Church) reminds us of the essential, the necessary, the heart of the Christian life. We have begun the process of stripping away and getting to the core of things over these past three weeks in order to keep up the momentum for the spiritual battle ahead of us. 

But we don't strip away everything. Charity must remain, and remain in abundance, or else prayer, fasting, and almsgiving have no merit or meaning. 

And in Luke's Gospel, when the Lord gives his apostles a precursor to the coming days, it is also written, "And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid from them: and they understood not the things that were said." When they move on to Jericho, a blind man is causing a commotion. This blind man the disciples rebuked on account of his desperate crying out, his cries for mercy. And yet it is this man who is made to see, and the disciples blind (Lk 18:31-43).

We can be like the disciples--thinking we know what we're in for for the next forty days, with our resolutions and noble aspirations to be better, to be good. But it's kind of like standing at the altar on your wedding day, isn't it? You don't really know what you're pledging for the coming years, what you are vowing to live by or if you will really live it out in your marriage. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. I mean, you know the words you are vowing, and you may stand behind them that day even as a couple of dumb kids in love. But you haven't really been tested yet, have you? You are in health, for richer rather than for poorer as you stand before your witnesses. When we are led into temptation, we can only cry out in total dependence on grace as the blind man of Jericho, "Jesus! Mercy!" 

Lent is about strength, about coming through the other side, but also about weakness. It is about the externals, but really about the heart of things. The feast of the wedding is kind of like our Shrove Tuesday, before the real work of marriage begins. 

And what are we working on? Charity. To love our spouse as Christ loved the Church, and to love Christ as we should love our spouse. 

But we sin against our spouse, don't we? We fail in charity. We may betray their trust. We take them for granted. We sometimes cut them at the knees, because we know them more intimately than anyone else does, and know the chinks in their armor. Selfishness constantly threatens to steal us away from our vows and promises, leading us to sin against the person we should love and cherish the most. In exchange for what? For indulging the self. 

And so we live out our vows on the practice field. We give our spouse the bigger pork chop, even when we want it ourselves. We cultivate kindness towards them when we don't feel kind on the inside. We dig deep to fast from anger even when we are justified in it. Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil: Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Faith. Hope. Charity. But the greatest of these is charity. 

As disciples of Jesus Christ, we pray for our eyes to be opened, to be able to see. To see how to love and serve him more fittingly and more fully. We are invited into the intimacy of relationship with him, just as we live out intimacy in our marriage--of knowing someone more fully than anyone else, warts and all. The Lord has none of these warts, but our spouses do. Isn't that really what Lent comes down to: the ideal and the real? Our noble plans and the embarrassing reality, sometimes? 

And yet, if we can keep charity at the forefront of our practices, we can be assured that our efforts will not be wasted. We can be forgiven for our failures and faults, have our eyes be opened. Above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8).

The Carnal Man Is An Effete Man

My wife snapped a picture of me while we are on a trip to a ski mountain recently. I had my miserable Ben Affleck look going on, apparently. She texted a few friends jokingly..."Rob doesn't like doing enjoyable things."

There is something about indulging every desire and pampering oneself to an inordinate degree that comes across as...well, effete. The word derives from Latin effetus, meaning "no longer fruitful," and for a brief time in English it was used to describe an animal no longer capable of producing offspring.

Effete (adj):

-affected and overly refined.

-(of a man) behaving in a way traditionally associated with women and regarded as inappropriate for a man.

-no longer capable of effective action.

Now, there is nothing wrong with the proverbial fine wine or an expensive cigar or a nice meal. But when our Lord refers to the greatest man born to woman, John the Baptist, he says,

"What did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces." (Mt 11:18) 

John is a man's man. Rough clothes. Rough food. Rough demeanor. Virile, yet chaste. And he is sharply contrasted to the effete nature of Herod who was so "delighted" with a dance done by Herodias' daughter that he is led to make an oath he will regret (Mk 6:22). The two men do in fact stand side by side in the flesh. John's head ends up on a platter, however. 

Lent is an opportunity to put your inner Herod on the back burner for a time and put on some camel hair. The clothes are merely the outer reflection of the man, however. We have the opportunity to become singularly focused, like John; to go to our inner desert, like John. To exhort in boldness, like John. To turn sharply away from the indulgence of sin. To pave the way for Christ's second coming. 

Related: Led Like An Ox: The Effeminacy of Carnal Capitulation

Electric Cars Are Not The Answer. But Electric Bikes May Be

Note: This is a non-religious, "musing" post which may or may not interest you. But I had fun writing it regardless.

I've been a huge fan of all things alternative-energy since high school. I've also been a bicyclist and bicycle commuter since that time. It's exciting to see how the industry has advanced, costs have come down, reliability has gone up, and feasibility of light electric transport has become more realistic.

To put this in to context, I go into the office three days a week. When at all possible, I try to bike in. It is twelve miles over rolling terrain and backroads to my office...a generally pleasant route. The hills are not overly burdensome, but on a regular pedal bike it can take me almost an hour since I am old, fat, and out of shape, and usually results in me getting to work sweaty. The route I bike takes about 27 minutes to drive. 

I've been building and riding gas and electric powered bicycles for about ten years now, and have experimented with a lot of different setups--from a battery-operated 'push-trailer,' to a mid-drive geared motor, to 2 and 4 stroke gas engines...you name it. My current bike is a very simple but powerful 1500 watt (2 hp) rear direct drive motor from Ebay. There are no gears to break, just magnets within the hub that theoretically can last forever. That is one of the beauties of electric vehicles--there are very few parts to break down, and reduced maintenance makes them fairly reliable. 

The kit itself consisted of the rear motor laced to the rim with heavy 11 gauge spokes; a controller (the 'brains' of the kit where all the wires connect); and a roll throttle, similar to a motorcycle, with 'fuel' gauge. I think the kit cost me about $250 or so shipped. Because these are mass produced, and not proprietary, manufacturers of these aftermarket kits can keep costs low because they deal in volume. 

I bought the 48 volt, 20 amp-hour lithium battery on Ebay as well, for about the same price ($250). The battery is good for about 30 miles of range (more or less depending on speed, terrain, and pedaling), and at over 1,000 cycles, will last at least 30,000 miles. It costs a few pennies to charge with a simple laptop-type charger you just plug in and in a few hours it's replenished and ready to go. I did sew the bag myself, and soldered the connectors.

The bike itself I bought for $150 on Craigslist. It's not super complicated--mostly swapping out the rear wheel with the motor-wheel, and hooking up the connections. I wouldn't say anyone can do it, but watch a few Youtube videos and a reasonably mechanically-inclined person can do what I did in building up this rig. The whole set up, then, cost me about $650. 

What's counter-intuitive is that electric bikes are actually more efficient than pedal-powered bikes alone when you factor in the cost of food. The only thing I really need to replace is tires and brake pads, and the cost of electricity is negligible. The motor is good for 100,000 miles at least, and the battery for 30,000. I ride about 4,000 miles a year--to work, for errands, to Mass, etc. This winter has been very strange in that we have had virtually no snow, so I have been able to bike all winter as well for the most part. I travel about 20-30mph on the bike and it has been super reliable. I get to work in 35 minutes most days (remember, it takes 27 minutes to drive the same route). If there were more traffic, it would take even longer by car. 

I also do get some good exercise on the bike, even though it seems like "cheating." I pedal the whole way, though I'm not blowing a gasket up the hills like I would be on my non-electric road bike. From estimations I have seen online, electric bikes get around 1,000 miles per gallon equivalent; they are literally the most efficient form of transportation.  

A car that gets 25 mpg will cost you fourteen cents a mile in gas alone (assuming $3.50/gal). Factor in oil changes, tires, wear and tear, depreciation, and you could easily approach fifty cents a mile operating cost. At 12,000 miles a year, that's $6,000 annually. Assuming I get 30,000 miles out of my electric bike, I'm paying two-tenths of a cent per mile. I also get exercise, fresh air, have fun, and save miles on my existing car. 

I also feel safer on an electric bike. I can speed up when I need to through intersections, ride defensively, and not back cars up behind me on hills. Now, I have been biking for decades and feel comfortable on the road, and you may not. Most parts of our country are simply not built for biking safely, and that's a shame. I feel comfortable doing it, that the reward outweighs the potential risks (which, let's face it, are there when you drive as well). But that's just me. I ride defensively and am very visible with lights, reflectors, etc. I've only been hit by a car once in thirty years of biking. In my book, that's not a bad track record. 

There's been a lot of press about how electric cars are rising in popularity. I'm not sold. I think hybrids and plug-ins are a more reasonable solution, personally. 

For one thing, the environmental and human-rights impacts of lithium mining are real, and there simply is not enough cobalt and lithium to supply all the electric cars we seem to want to have on the road. a 75kWh battery pack in a Tesla is a lot more costly to not only mine but to buy. To put in perspective, my e-bike battery is about 1kWh. That's a lot less material, and at $250 (versus $25,000) is a negligible investment.

If e-bikes get about 1,000 mpgE versus 120 mpgE, they are ten times more efficient, and cost tens of thousands of dollars less. It's a great way to get around, but it's not a status symbol, which is what electric vehicles have become--just another form of gentrification.

Also, if our existing grid cannot handle surges in electric consumption, and we are still fueling them with natural gas and other non-renewables, what makes us adding millions of electric cars to our existing fleet is a sustainable option for our energy grid? I'm not saying it can't happen, but it would need a massive investment in updating our existing grid, adding nuclear, etc. 

But add a million electric bikes on the road (that actually get used and get people out of their cars), and you may make some kind of meaningful impact.

I know this is not a realistic option for a lot of people. I still have a car (we have two actually, as a family), but it's helped me put less miles on it, be more sustainable, and saved a ton of money in the process. I don't regard my electric bike as a toy, but rather as an effective tool for getting from point A to point B in the most efficient and economical way possible. I'm grateful for the advances in this industry, personally. Not all technology is bad when it helps you live a better life on earth...as long as I don't get hit by a car and meet the Lord sooner than expected!

Water Your Field With Tears: A Reflection for Sexagesima Sunday

What do Sexagesima Sunday and Superbowl Sunday have in common besides falling on the same day? Nothing really, except that it reminds me of a lecture I heard on a bonus track of a Krishna-core CD when I was in high school that started my search for God and, eventually, led me to the Catholic faith. In this exchange, (which I still remember word for word to this day), Stambha Das is being interviewed on the way of life of devotees of Krishna Consciousness.  It was my first exposure to talk of something beyond the material world. God writes straight with crooked lines, I suppose. 

Interviewer: 

"Since you've mentioned the Pittsburgh Steelers' helmets, do you ever go to a football game? Go to a movie?" 

Stambha Das: 

"No. We don't engage in what we consider to be more or less diversionary type activities. There is a goal to human life. Human life is meant to be serious...that doesn't mean morose. But we experience our pleasure on a higher level...the pleasure for the soul is not in seeking some temporary gratification in the play or colors of some configuration of bodies running across lines on a pasture, but the pleasure of the self is pleasing God, just as my hand gives food the mouth. So, there is no question of being happy. We may divert ourselves termporarily, but there is no question of happiness apart from serving God.

There again, we utilize those things which can be engaged in Krishna's service. We're not impractical, in other words, a watch is not sinful as it sits there ticking away. The question is, how do we use it?"

Interviewer: 

"A football game is not sinful."

Stambha Das: 

"Not so much that it is sinful, but if in watching the football game, I forget what is my eternal nature--trying to find pleasure in a few moments of this or that on my way to old age, disease, and death, and another birth of an undetermined nature, then it is actually an...improvident engagement."

Interviewer: 

"A priest would, in many cases, feel the same sort of love of Christ that you feel of Krishna, but yet would not feel bad about going to something you that you might consider a diversionary pleasure." 

Stambha Das: 

"But in the Bible, Jesus says, 'if the love of the world is in you, the love of the Father is not.'  And the first commandment is love the Lord with all they heart, mind, and soul. It's kind of hard for me to imagine Jesus Christ and Saint Peter sitting up in the stands, like, calling for a blitz and screaming "Nail him! Nail him!""

Thankfully we were spared, by virtue of the rubrics of the TLM and a good pastor, of any mention of the Birds or subjected (as some of the guys in my men's group who attend the N.O.), to the Philadelphia Eagle's game chants at Mass). Nothing wrong with a football game. But I think Stambha Das raises some good points for Christ-followers. The way is narrow for a reason, and we are often forgetful of our purpose and lose sight of the markers in our worldly distraction. 

Anyway.

During the readings, we were forced to reflect as Lent draws near on St. Paul's words to the Corinthians: Paul, who relishes in his infirmities despite staking every claim to be a complete boss in the faith, realizes that God sends reminders of our weakness so that we may not forget to rely on him. When we think we are standing tall, we are often struck low. "And lest the greatness of the revelations should exalt me, there was given me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan, to buffet me. For which thing, thrice I besought the Lord that it might depart from me. And he said to me: My grace is sufficient for thee: for power is made perfect in infirmity. Gladly therefore will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

And then we have the Gospel reading, the parable of the sower, which on the surface seems like an obvious message and one we've heard a hundred times: your seed of faith needs to be planted in fertile ground. One thing that struck me about the examples Christ gives--of the seed falling on rock, in thorns, and by the wayside--is that in none of those cases does the seed fall on actual good soil. On the rock, it cannot lay root. In the thorns, it is choked out. By the wayside, the birds eat it up.

Rich soil doesn't just happen. It needs to be prepared, built up; otherwise sprouting seeds end up stunted. During this lead up to Lent, we are preparing the soil of our bodies, our minds, and our hearts. A field needs moisture, rain--what better way to water your field than with the tears of repentance. 

A field needs fertilizer as well--it is the excrement products of animals (manure) that is often spread on the fields in preparation for planting. What else would you possibly use horse sh*t for? God has a plan for even our waste products, though. 

When manure is "hot", however, it can burn tender young shoots; it needs time to age. God can use even the detritus of our past life, our past sins, our weaknesses and infirmities, for the glory of the Kingdom. It is not his will that we sin--but when we do (and He knows we will), if it leads us to compunction and tears of sorrow, suddenly we have a damp bed to germinate the seeds of faith and nourished by our aged and now composted bullsh*t.

The past week I have fallen into some pretty heavy sins of uncharity. Selfishness is sin, and sin is selfishness, and I am excelling at both...against my wife, my kids, my parents, my friends. I felt I was standing pretty tall prior to that--plowing the field with confidence, laying the manure of mortifications and letting it age. 

And yet out of nowhere, God sent me thorn after thorn to attack my confidence in my own strength and ability, to completely raze my pious exterior and reveal the brute animal I am beneath it apart from grace. He gave me opportunity after opportunity to practice charity, and I failed miserably every time. I was not only uncharitable, but unforgiving. Suddenly the seeds sown in my heart were starved of oxygen and moisture, and the shoots stunted. My bullsh*t was steaming and burning the stalks of the young plants. 

It was only with tears of repentance, in seeing my sin and selfishness for what it was and not making excuses for it, that the kernels reconstituted slowly. "Take heed, lest you fall," St. Paul writes in his first letter to this same group of believers (1 Cor 10:12). The readings today from his follow up letter (2 Cor. 11:19-33; 12:1-9), combined with the Gospel reading, helped open my eyes to how tenuous feats of spiritual strength are, when our fields are not furrowed with the plow of charity. The day is now far spent. Let's not waste any more time preparing our fields.

Saying The Quiet Parts Out Loud

 

I really am not a fan of taking screen shots, but sometimes it's just helpful to have a bookmark for later. A couple things strike me about the posturing of this individual:

-Liberals often virtue signal all over themselves, but trads can do it too, and they wear it well for all to see. This is as good an exhibit as any.

-Zeal requires wisdom and temperance to be a complete protein. Unchecked, it's like trying to drink from a firehose.

-It's good to be ready to die for the faith, to have the right disposition. I'm not sure this is it, though. 

-I don't think this is theatrics per se (if the individual really would pull the trigger), but it is effeminately dramatic.

-It's brute tribalism.

-It backs you into a corner, serves as a kind of oath if you will. Nothing to do but double down.

-Just get off Twitter, online knight. Nothing good comes from it and it doesn't advance the cause. And I think people get self-goaded into posting this arm-flailing stuff because they know they have an audience and people are following them and so they have to 'stake their claim' to where they stand on x, y, z.

In one sense, though, he's taking the hardcore trad 'line in the sand' stance to it's logical end, so I'll give him credit for that. It only sounds outlandish when you go from A to Z without seeing the rest of the lead up in the middle of the alphabet. I just wonder how many other trads really think this way besides the 134 that liked the post.

I used to have a saying--don't be extreme in anything except charity. It's served me okay, and these kinds of tweets are a reminder to test all spirits (1 Jn 4:1). 

I sent this email to someone I know recently. I thought maybe it is worth publishing here (I never got a response) to share my own thoughts, which do not square with the individual above. Call me soft. We all have to make these decisions for ourselves when the time comes, and take responsibility for them. I've made a lot of wrong decisions in the past, but all we can do is work with what we have, continue to pray and ask for wisdom, and step out in faith. Not that I ever had a trad card in my possession, but I'll probably lose whatever I had with this revealing. Anyway, here it is:

I just watched the Michael Lofton video ("Can Pope Francis Ban The Latin Mass?") you posted on FB (my wife still has an account). I wanted to respond, as someone who is not a Traditionalist (in the strict sense of the term) but who has exclusively attended the Latin Mass for the past four years, has fallen in love with it, and has never had the desire to return to the Ordinary Form.

Since the last time I wrote you about a year ago in struggling with various attachments, I feel that God has been giving generously from the storehouse of grace and supplying me with what I need to grow closer to Him. Thanks be to God, I have cut out tobacco/nicotine (a very pernicious 25 year addiction, mind you), have committed to a minimum of twenty minutes of mental prayer a day, regular Adoration, and undertaken a variety of commonplace mortification to discipline the body (cold showers, fasting, etc). I still have a ways to go with service to the poor apart from personal charity and coordinating various volunteer opportunities at our local soup kitchen, but one thing at a time at least. Ironically, the Youtube video referenced above may be one of the last, as I'm trying to forgo that attachment (to Youtube) during the Lenten season.

I make note of the above because I hope it is clear that my intention in undertaking these things is to empty my hands, so that God can fill them. That includes physical attachments and minor comforts, but also attitudes and judgments. I know I have no good in me of my own, but that He is great enough to make me "as holy as I should be," according to His will--ie, that He desires me, as well as all his children, to become sanctitified. In other words, I want to learn to suffer well, so that I may see His face in Heaven and join the company of his saints, whether on earth or after death.

As mentioned, it is hard enough to navigate the interior life sometimes, so I try to keep it basic (scripture, rosary, Mass, confession, spiritual reading of the classics, state of grace, charity, etc). But just as difficult can be where my place in the Church is. I have an eclectic community which is comprised of both hardcore traditionalists and just plain good, faithful Catholics happy in the Ordinary Form. Watching the Michael Lofton video was somewhat over my head (I'm not an intellectual or an academic), but it also made me sick and angry. If it is true that Pope Francis has the rightful authority to abrogate the Traditional Mass, and if one does not assent to that authority and, say, goes off and continues to attend underground (Latin) Masses, or whatever....that this is an act of willful disobedience. Well, it's all very confusing. And my own community will completely fracture. It is almost too much to think about.

But I also realize my personal "preference" for a solemn liturgy in the Extraordinary Form may in itself be an attachment. I wrote a post a while back titled "Should You Have A Liturgical Plan B?" in which I had to really wrestle with these practicalities. It is heart wrenching to think that is may very well be on the horizon (and I have good reason to think it would be). 

But the fact stands--if God deigns to see fit that Pope Francis abolishes the usage of the '62 missal, there are some (most) in Traditionalist camp that call for resistance, a kind of "civil disobedience" of not accepting this decree. Others maybe not so invested will accept and not put up a fight, and revert back to the Novus Ordo. For people like myself and my family, it would be a great humiliation almost (perhaps that is not the best word, but it's all that comes to mind right now) to follow in that second path. 

But if it means a kind of spiritual humbling that can lead to greater sanctification, for however long, I am willing to undergo it. Even though everything in my natural faculties is screaming "No." As I write it, I see how cultivating detachment has a lot of trails still to undergo. 

I do feel it is a grave injustice, and I don't understand why the Holy Father seems bent on this. And to know that our dicocesan TLM community will completely fracture, we will lose everything we have grown to love (many will go to the SSPX or FSSP, if even the FSSP is untouched)--it fills me with grief and heart sickness. 

But our Lord was filled with grief and heart sickness throughout his ministry and on the cross. If we deign to imitate Him, follow Him, why do we think we can avoid entering into this state with him (being baptized in his death, as Paul says)? If God wills I crucify my desire for the TLM, I pray for the grace to shed it then in order to follow Him. I pray for a holy docility, a holy indifference, but it is so incredibly hard. And incredibly confusing times.

Anyway, I've gone on long enough. I don't know if you have any advice or insight, but I thought at least you might want to hear from someone pretty much all-in on the traditional liturgy who is still willing--through tears--to crucify it should it be in disobedience to continue to attend it (if that were even possible). I don't know what to do, but I pray God will give me the grace to discern when and if the time comes. Please pray for me as well. 

"Pre-Gaming Lent": How Should You Prepare for Septuagesima?

 

Mardi Gras used to be my favorite holiday of the year. It has religious significance, of course, but it was also a good chance to eat, drink, and party (and I love to party). I would always throw a few really big gatherings at my my apartment in Philly in my twenties, but Mardi Gras always took the (king) cake. I would cook all day, hit the beer distributer and liquor store, and invite co-workers, friends (Catholic and heathen alike), and people off the street to make merry. 

Ash Wednesday, then, was usually a somewhat difficult affair. A little groggy, and little headache, a little bloated...jumping from full-tilt revelry and decadence to fasting in sackcloth and ashes was Catholic, right? 

Well...kind of. We do honor the natural and liturgical cycle of feasting and fasting in the Church, but it wasn't until the past few years that I was even aware there was a "break-in" period in the traditional calendar as a three week lead up to Lent: that is, Septuagesima (Seventieth Sunday), Sexagesima (Sixtieth Sunday), and Quinquagesima (Fiftieth Sunday). 

Now, as most of you know, I am not an especially die-hard liturgical-calendar guy. But this season seems to just make sense, and the fact that it was taken out of the New Rite...well, doesn't quite make sense. But I digress.

Practically speaking, in the pre-refrigeration days, this would the be period in which you would eat down your perishables such as meat and cheese. Fat Tuesday would then be the last chance to clear the house of those things you don't want to be indulging in during the Lenten season. I'm sure others have written on the historical context in which the season was lived out.

But since I'm neither a historian nor a liturgist, I'm just going to lay out some practical offerings for potential ways to "ease in" to the Lenten season. 

Though the Church today technically only requires fasting on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and the modest prescription of "2 half meals and one full meal," many traditional Catholics will take on extra penances and fasts during this season. I used to scoff at this as being a "holier than thou" type practice. But let's face it--the post-conciliar proscription is really pretty lax. At least when you've been trying to undertake various penances already, it may seem that way.

Septuagesima, then, may be your period to 'try out' some things you may want to institute in your own life as penance during the thirty day lead up before the official start of Lent. It can always be a good way to ease into things. For instance, if you decide to fast every day during Lent, perhaps a good lead in would be to fast on Wednesdays and Fridays during the pre-lenten 30 day season. If your idea is to give up sugar or meat entirely, or something like that, maybe restrict what sugary things or meat you eat during this period by half, or every other day, without going too nuts about it. 

What's nice is during this period, such mortifications are voluntary and not bound under pain of sin. 

But more importantly is to really enter into the season of somber reflection and preparing the manger of the heart by clearing away the dung and dust. Of course, Confession is an excellent way to kick this off with an infusion of grace. I was thankful to have gone yesterday, and feel ready now to start peeling away those vices and imperfections more intentionally by kicking off on the right foot. 

I'm not going to share what I am 'giving up', but I will say that I do plan to add some more spiritual reading, some extra time at adoration, and focusing on my speech and being more charitable and generous. It helps to have a plan beforehand, rather than just deciding your voluntary penances the night before. Septuagesima gets you 'in the zone' to have a fruitful penitential season. Remember the three pillars of Lent: fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. And that this is not a time of self-improvement (at least not directly), but of repentance, searching our hearts, making amends, and growing closer to the Lord in the desert. 

My Lents have traditionally been hit or miss, but a big part of that was not really preparing as well ahead of time. The three weeks leading up to Ash Wednesday are your chance to do just that, so that when you do "get them ashes" the ground is already plowed, turned over, and watered to accept the seed of the Gospel. Make good use of this time, for you know not the hour of your death!

Your Catholic Bubble

A few years ago I used to do street evangelization, which is just what it sounds like. I would set up with one of two other people on a busy street corner in town, put out a "Need Prayer? Catholic TRUTH!" sign, and hand out rosaries and Miraculous Medals trying to "fish for men." If people weren't Catholic, we'd ask them if they ever thought about the Faith. If they were Catholic, we'd ask where they attended Mass. If they didn't, we'd invite them to come home. Conveniently, we were set up only a block or two from the local parish we were attending at the time as a family.

It was hard work, honestly. Like my morning cold shower, it's uncomfortable to do this work and I never really looked forward to it. At the same time, it always gave you a kind of adrenaline rush and when the hour or two was over, you always felt somewhat elated. This was despite the constant rejection and being ignored, and despite the fact that the work of evangelization seemed so futile.

One of the highlights, though, was seeing the parishioners I recruited to help in this endeavor face their fears and hesitations and who subsequently experienced the 'rush' of the Holy Spirit in getting out of their comfort zone. They had never felt that telling people about the Kingdom of God was part of their calling as Catholics. "I've never done anything like this before!" they would marvel. It was really neat to see.

Catholics can get pretty comfortable in their safe spaces, which may be at Mass amidst like-minded people of the same faith, in our friend circles among other Catholics where we all speak the same language, in our mom's groups and men's groups where we take solace in our similarities. But we were not made for comfort, as Pope Benedict XVI famously said.

One tough thing about the street evangelization for me personally was when it came to situations in which someone was open to returning to Mass--where should they go? It was about this time I was becoming more uncomfortable with the antics in the Novus Ordo, and was being drawn to the Latin Mass. Almost every neighborhood parish was a mixed bag--if you sent an inquiry to one parish, he might be subjected to this or that awful RCIA program, a feminized liturgy, or just general lukewarmness--and then they may never go back. I suppose that is really in God's hands ultimately.

I had to leave the local street evangelization apostolate I started at that parish when we moved over to the Latin Mass at a different church. But there's a part of me that wants to get back to it, if anything for the discomfort and sense of exposure it entails. And if anything, now I have a solid parish to bring people into should they want to take the next steps to 'come and see' what the Mass is all about in its full glory. 

But there is also a part of me that feels that there's the potential to just trade problems. The vast majority of people at our parish are wonderful, and I think the online tradosphere skews the picture of TLMers as "rad trads" or "mad trads" or whatever the term is these days. But I also think there is a tendency to see the bubble that we are in (less than 2% of Catholic parishes in the U.S. are TLM parishes I believe?) as the be all end all. We get worked up about Pope Francis and this or that scandal or abuse in the Church or this or that nonsense coming out of Rome and have tunnel vision about it. When the fact of the matter is, almost 3/4 of the Catholic populace are not even aware of the restrictions on the Latin Mass. 

One of the things I do find somewhat tiresome about traditional Catholicism (and which I fall into myself) is critiquing everything outside this tunnel-vision. We get riled up about the minutia of liturgical rubrics, minoring in the majors, and this can fly when you are in your bubble. When you are speaking about evangelization and making disciples, though, I think Dale Carnegie has a good point here:

"Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person’s precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment. …. Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain—and most fools do. But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving.

When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity.

The only way on earth to influence other people is to talk about what they want and show them how to get it."  

(How to Win Friends and Influence People)

I have always taken to heart what St. Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, 

"Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if someone with a weak conscience sees you, with all your knowledge, eating in an idol’s temple, won’t that person be emboldened to eat what is sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother or sister, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother or sister to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause them to fall." (1 Cor 8:9-13)

His concern for the weakness of the brethren is moving, because it shows true charity and self-deference. I think in our zeal and love for the traditional Mass we can fall victim to this critical spirit which is looking for the wrong in everything outside of it (and even within it). Bad news sells, of course, and good news is often ignored or brushed off. 

How much of traditional Catholicism is love of the traditional Mass (which I have), and how much is the association with those of (traditional) like mind--e.g., our Catholic bubble? It's this second part that has me rethinking; am I simply getting too comfortable not being challenged? Am I really doing the work God is calling me and my family to? This doesn't mean leaving the TLM or the parish, but not getting so comfortable that we cling to it and sequester ourselves in it. I think it's natural to do that--just like it's natural to want to take a warm shower every morning. 

Don't take this as a criticism but as a challenge--to do the hard work, the uncomfortable work, the work that exposes you to the world and all it's messiness, the work that needs to be done and not simply what we prefer to do. That will look different for everyone, as St. Paul says, "And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers" (Eph 4:11).

There is still a lot of "normie" work to be done--care for poor and sick, outreach, teaching and catechesis, evangelization, witness. I hate to say it, but the Traditional Latin Mass is not all there is. To the extent that we neglect the other yokes of discipleship to stay comfortable in the walls of a church with our various devotionals and accoutrements (good as they are) is to be like the brother who says to the Father, "I will go" into the vineyard to work...and never goes.