The Goodness of Nature

I just arrived home from a three day work conference which was held at a resort. Because there was an indoor water park and other family-friendly amenities, I brought my wife and my kids with me, which was nice since I find staying by myself in corporate hotel rooms depressing. While I was presenting, going to receptions, eating and drinking and networking with colleagues, the rest of my family entertained themselves.

By the second day, however, we were all starting to feel a little...hungover. For our summer family vacation, we rent a modest cottage on the Cape, which has been spared much chain commercialization. We spend our days going to a fresh water pond and the bay, riding bikes on the rail trails, laying in the hammock, and cooking in the small kitchen, occasionally going out to get fish and chips. The most important thing is being together as a family, but it's also in a more natural environment which is more in line with our values. So, the setting we found ourselves this past week seemed great at first, but slowly felt like it was corroding our souls. When we emerged from the commercial tomb and stepped out into the 16 degree air on the third day to go home, we all breathed a frosty sense of relief.

Because everyone is different, this is not a judgment piece. Some people really enjoy places like Disney World and Six Flags, but I personally do not (and that's a restrained statement), nor (we all realized after this week) do my wife and kids. Maybe this is because while I'm not an environmentalist per se, I think there is something special and sacred, not to mention psychologically and spiritually healthy about the natural environment. It was where I first encountered God. It was where I continue to return to when I need to be refreshed and re-center my prayer life. I can appreciate the spirit of conservationists like Emerson and the naturalists like Thoreau. The natural world humbles us, inspires poetry, and inspires awe at the magnificent handiwork of God. That he has entrusted us to be stewards of the earth which He created is a great and privileged responsibility.

When I find myself in these kind of artificial environments, however, I feel my spirit struggling to bloom as if I were an orchid planted in a can of spent potting soil in the middle of a prison yard. Mother Teresa, of course, found Christ and his radiant glory in the worst slums of Calcutta and among the most forgotten poorest of the poor. The task of the Christian is to put things in their proper place in relation to God, but in doing so is given the gift and subsequent burden of having eyes to see. And sometimes the world in which we live and have constructed for ourselves does not in fact reflect God's handiwork, but the elevation of man in all his self-centeredness and forgetfulness of his Creator. 

What I really struggle with most in these commercialized environments--besides the price gouging, the sterility and lack of anything beautiful, the difficulty in praying, the plastic kitschy commercialization, and the frenzied over-stimulation--is that they exist to indulge, pamper and serve the self. For the Christian, we strive to find our joy in God alone, and to find life by emptying ourselves in service to others. We mortify our senses to gain what money can't buy--joy, detachment, inner freedom. When your heart has been captured by the true, the beautiful, and the good, the counterfeits are akin to dead wooden idols before the power of the Living God.

We are blessed in this vast and diverse country to have access to at least little pockets of natural environments. Even the city dweller living in mid-town can escape to the Poconos or the shore to get little bite-sized respites of the natural world outside the concrete jungles. Those blessed to live in states like Montana or Alaska may even take such untamed environments for granted, since they are in their backyards. It's good and natural to take periodic respite in nature--good for the soul, for the mind, good for the body--away from the digital sea we soak in daily, away from the commerce and money changers taking up house in the Temple--to be with ourselves and our God. 

Speaking of the Temple, it was there in that dramatic scene in Mt 21:12-12 where Christ's anger burned and consumed him, and where he drove them out from that place that should have stood undefiled but had been corrupted by the self-interest of those trying to turn a profit and make debt-slaves out of unsuspecting people.

There is also something healing about nature, something which allows us to draw from a deep spring rather than being cajoled to open and empty our purses for the promise of a drink of water which will only make us thirst again. It gives us time to rest, to bandage the wounds inflicted upon us, to fast from self-indulgence and satisfying our every whim and desire and experience hunger--the hunger of the soul. Ironically, when we return to our homes, we feel refreshingly full; whereas coming home from this kind of commercialized vacation, I felt unfulfilled and even a little empty.

Nature at its most pristine and untouched reflects the majesty of God which cannot be captured, commodified, domesticated and exploited. It is a reflection of the wild autonomy of the Creator and the terrible firmament of justice, which can only be tamed and made hospitable with the grace of His mercy. God answers to no man, and yet nature and the laws of nature--as stark and majestic and cruel as it can be--are subject to Him, for "our God is in the Heavens; he hath done whatever He hath pleased" (Ps 115:3). 

Saying No To Good Things

As a married father living “in the world,” I’m aware that the period between Thanksgiving and New Year’s seems to operate at warp-speed. People on the roads seem impatient, there’s always something to do and somewhere to be, and folks are feeling stretched thin. It may be culturally driven as consumerism naturally ramps up during this time frame, but as Catholics we are also entering into a new liturgical cycle as well. If we’re not careful, we can get robbed as the simple and beautiful anticipation of Christmas—Christ born in a manger—becomes one more thing to “get through.” 

Because we homeschool our three children, we are blessed with more time than we would otherwise have if our kids were in school. But if I’m being honest, there is no shortage of activities and opportunities in our circle: from sports to theater to poetry recitation, nature study, field trips, youth-group—our kids are probably overly-socialized! While my wife is a true introvert, and we are more or less homebodies (when we have the choice), I consider myself an “extroverted-introvert.” I genuinely like connecting with people one on one, but don’t tend to gravitate towards large gatherings as much. 

We do, however, guard our family time and try to make sure we have amble unstructured “down time.” This concept of “white space”—space that has value in and of itself, not simply time that isn’t filled up with something, was something I wrote about in “The Space Between”:

“Musicians know that the space and tempo between notes is just as important as the notes themselves. Artists need to make use of negative space to contrast and accentuate the form and color that is on the canvas. Writers need to make the words on the page count, and not use too much filler. The comedian and rhetorician knows that timed pauses and strategic silences are just as important as the punchlines themselves. And every saint has found that 'time away' in private prayer, akin to Jesus' retreat to 'lonely places' to commune with his Father, is indispensable to counter-balance active ministry. White space--the space between--has value in and of itself. It's lack of defined substance is, by its very nature, where its value lies.”

Part of this “guarding” is in the interest of self-preservation; but I have also felt as Catholic Christians, we need to be good stewards of our time so that we are not spending it all on ourselves or our children; we should be making ourselves available to others, and in service to those in need. I came across a quote somewhere that was very convicting, since as Christians are fundamental vocation is to love: "Love and hurry are fundamentally incompatible. Love always takes time, and time is the one thing hurried people don't have."    

In trying to maintain our balance, but also while seeing everyone around me so jam-packed with things to do, I have been thinking about this “epidemic of busyness” lately. To see if I was the only one, I reached out to a friend of ours who is a homeschooling mom of seven to get another perspective and who graciously gave me permission to use some of her insight for the purposes of this reflection.

“Even in the faithful Catholic world full of people stumbling along learning to express their cultural Catholic identity, there is this tendency to imagine every feast day is important to celebrate every time. Everything must become a tradition or activity or event. But no one was making a big deal out of St Patrick AND St Lucy AND John the Baptist AND St Anthony AND St Nicholas AND….

Don’t get me wrong. I love reading Sigrid Undset and being immersed in that medieval world where Christianity permeates the culture so much that the liturgical year was how time was marked and measured by everyone. It is beautiful.

But I think there is a temptation to take this modern tendency toward busyness and try to sanctify it.

Also, I think that formal activity has taken the place of casual/organic activity. As cultures shifts to one with fewer children overall, fewer stay at home mothers, and less shared culture and community, we don’t chat with other mothers out hanging their wash or play pick-up games in the neighbor’s yard.

I remember a priest who grew up in the city describing how drastically air conditioning changed the neighborhood he grew up in. Neighbors used to spend summer evenings cooling off on their front porches, which inevitably involved socializing with neighbors. But once everyone started getting air conditioners, they spent their summer evenings inside.

So, in some sense, I think our culture of busyness is an attempt to compensate for lack of community, poor neighborhood planning in the fifties, no sidewalks or front porches, and lack of a shared culture. The organic framework that used to exist for exactly what you describe (just come in for tea, let’s help elderly Mrs M with her home maintenance, etc) has left us making stuff up from scratch. 

But also, there is a lot of FOMO going on and parental guilt. It can be like keeping up with the Joneses and imagining that our children are being deprived of something if we say no.

“I listened to some wise women back in the early days of the internet on Catholic homeschool forums and such. There was an emphasis on guarding the margins of your time and the reminder that it will mean saying no to *good* things. That is something I was able to take to heart. Our current world offers so much excess, and perhaps that includes excess of opportunity.”

I thought that was really insightful. For many of us, our intentions are good; we’re doing the right things while fighting an uphill cultural battle. Many of us are trying to restore a traditional faith life we were never given a blue print for, and through trial-and-error doing the best we can. But the isolation, the social fracking, is real. Exhausted moms try to curate some community in their spare moments through digital means (Facebook, chat groups, etc) because of geography. Busy dads in careers find that they are too spent at the end of the week to do much of anything, let alone get together with other men. We are a lonely generation, but for many of us we are trying to restore the health of the social soil which has been stripped by the bulldozer of modernity. And so we can sometimes over-compensate, as my friend mentioned, with “all the Catholic things” because we don’t have the benefit of those simple organic bonds that were taken for granted in previous eras. We’re trying to figure it out as we go. 

As you get older, you realize time is currency; we’re all on borrowed time, and what we spend it on becomes more important and worthy of daily discernment. We pour into our children, sometimes neglecting our spouse. We focus on our family, sometimes failing to pour into our community and those in need. We focus on the material, the tangible, the schedule-able at the expense of the “useless” unstructured time and space needed for creativity, availability, and yes, even boredom. We often don’t even think that a phone call or a visit to someone who could use it is even possible, given our schedules. These aren’t big things, we just miss them.

As we enter into this reflective time of Advent, where we anticipate the coming of the Christ-child, it may be worth taking an inventory of our greatest asset—time—to see how we are spending and investing it so that we do not end up like one of the foolish virgins who miss the Bridegroom when he comes. And to make that necessary space and time, that may mean saying no to even “good” things.

The Shirt That Never Fit

 

As I have written here before, all I ever wanted to be was a monk. From the age of 19 (a year after becoming Catholic) to the age of 28, I discerned a religious vocation. Over the course of those nine years, I visited the (Contemplative) Benedictines, the Trappists, the CFRs, and even inquired with the Carthusians, doing periodic Observerships across the country and corresponded for a number of years with the vocation directors of the respective communities. To me, monastic life made sense and seemed in my mind to be intentional Christianity simply taken seriously and lived out in fruitful expression. 

And then I met my wife-to-be, and in a matter of weeks knew that marriage, to this woman God had set aside, was my true vocation.

Happiness is a by-product of our vocation, not the target we are aiming for. God's ways are not our ways, His wisdom surpasses all understanding, and He knows us better than we even know ourselves and wants what is best for us "that we might have life, and have it more abundantly" (Jn10:10). Because of that, when we are pliable and seek His will for our lives, things have a way of fitting into place. The priest or religious who is called to that vocation, despite the challenges and crosses, finds peace and purpose, and yes even happiness. The same goes for those whose vocation is marriage. Happiness is not at odds with the crosses that inevitably come with those callings--for Christ embraced his Cross; he loved it, because his vocation was to die, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Were he to have come down from it and settled down with Mary Magdalene (as Nikos Kazantzakis sketched out as The Last Temptation of Christ)...well, we don't have to go there.

I talked about this in a previous post, this idea of the 'close but no cigar' situation we sometimes find ourselves in: in vocations, relationships, jobs, identities, and life in general,

"The analogy I have always used to describe this experience (or discernment) that seemed to describe it best was akin to finding the shirt you always wanted at the local thrift store, trying it on, and finding that it's one size smaller that what you typically wear. You can make it work if you walk out of the store with it. But then you begin to notice it chaffs under the arms, rides up an inch too much at the waist, and is just snug enough to be uncomfortable. It looks great--it just doesn't fit. Because it wasn't made for you. 

You could use the 'trying to fit a square peg in a round hole' analogy, but it doesn't quite work because no matter what you do in that situation, you can't ram it through. It would be almost easier if it was like this, because the fact that you have the wrong piece would be apparent from the start. You wouldn't spend ten years trying to make it so (that would almost be an apt description of a kind of insanity). 

You could use the 'puzzle piece' analogy, which is closer to the mark, but that isn't quite it either. You know, when you find a 'close but not cigar' piece in a puzzle, and it's almost the one you are looking for, but you'd have to slam your fist down on the table to force it, which would distort the edges and present an inaccurate picture. 

No, I think the shirt analogy works best in this circumstance. You want to look good. You found a good deal on a great brand. Surely, it should fit, despite the label saying 'Small' rather than 'Medium.' The stitches aren't breaking, the buttons aren't popping off. You can tolerate the discomfort to an extent, but it's far from fitting like a glove. You always kind of feel it, even if you convince yourself otherwise. 

When we don't pay attention to these things, these little chaffings, we can sometimes miss the ways in which God is telling us "this isn't for you. I have something set aside for you. But you have to trust me." Because God rarely speaks to us audibly, we have to rely on these signs and signals to discern whether we are trying to conform our will to God's, or God's will to our life." 

If I would have tried to force God's hand, and said "I'm going to become a monk come hell or high water," and assuming an Abbot who was not as discerning accepted me a postulant, I think it would have been like that one-size-too-small shirt. It may have worked, even for years, were I to push down those nagging feelings of dis-ease. And the religious life is a good life, objectively speaking. But I would not have flourished, either spiritually or in a human sense, but would have stunted.

I write about this experience as a pivot-point to how it relates to those who are either openly gay or struggle with same-sex attraction (SSA). I parse those two categories out separately because as we know, and as the Church teaches, sexual orientation or proclivity is not the same as a willful embrace of the homosexual lifestyle. Just as it is easy to point out the "clown Masses" in the Novus Ordo as an indicative example of post-conciliar abuses and deficiencies and use it as ammunition in the Traditionalist arsenal, this is not the norm. Rather, it's the beige, lukewarm banality of the New Mass in the majority of churches that is normative and the real problem at hand. 

In the same manner, we cannot point to BDSM actors, TransPorn or the extremes of homosexual deviancy as the norm. Yes, it is out there. But also out there are those in stable homosexual partnerships, those who are gay and single, those who teach and work and hold office and, yes, even attend church among you. Some may be married to members of the same sex, some to members of the opposite sex. Additionally, there are those who may struggle with SSA and not identify as "gay" but who nevertheless maintain lives of chastity, have deep prayer lives, may attend the TLM, and not feel any inclination to identify with the LGBT community. 

It is a hard pill for the world to swallow, but the teachings of the Church, by way of holy scripture and tradition, is that not only are homosexual acts a grave depravity, intrinsically disordered, and contrary to the natural law (CCC 2357), but that the inclination itself is objectively disordered (2358). And so we run into this issue of human flourishing. Is it possible to compartmentalize that part of ourselves--our sexuality--and still flourish and be psychologically healthy? Can we live (and by happy) without sex? Are those with SSA somehow not whole as human persons? Additionally, how can those with such proclivities and attractions willingly submit themselves to a spiritual authority (the Church) that teaches that those inclinations are, in fact, "disordered"?

As any psychologically healthy person knows, sex is a big part of life; whether you're having it or not having it, married or single, gay or straight--it consumes a lot of our thoughts, our behaviors, and how we live out our lives and pursuits. Because it is a gift from God for the continuing of the human race, and has the power of fire (which can warm a house and cook food or burn down a village), we must treat it reverently, carefully, and soberly. 

In many ways, the mystery of the Incarnation points to how we integrate our sexuality with our personhood. For God, in taking on flesh, was in another sense "out of his skin"--that is, the Father's home is in heaven. For many during the Patristic age, the Incarnation was a complete scandal, for the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands (Acts 7:48). So how can God take on the body of a (finite) man? How can Jesus as God find himself at home in a human body? It seems--disordered, in a sense. 

Integration is no easy feat. Those who find themselves called to the vocation of marriage may find it is not easy to live with someone so different than themselves. Learning the nuances and subtleties of lovemaking takes time and tenderness. Deferring one's own self-interest, day after day, takes work. If I am saved by God's grace, it will be as a married man. In the confection of that Sacrament, my identity has been altered--I am not longer one among another, but "one flesh" with another.

And we don't always get this right, either. People grow apart, change. Betray one another. Jump ship, break their vows. Act out. Forget love. Those who are divorced (but sacramentally married still in the eyes of the Church) find themselves with new and heavy crosses they are called to bear. When a partner gets ill, or comatose, the spouse can find themselves saying "this is not what I signed up for." Those who are widowed with a gaggle of young kids find themselves alone, grieving, and burdened. In all of this, as in all of life, we cannot run from our crosses because our crosses were made for us. They are wrapped up in the mystery of our vocation. 

But I think for people who are gay or struggle with same sex attraction, there are additional layers. I don't have statistics, but I would imagine a higher proportion may have been victims of childhood abuse, either realized or unrealized. Not all of course, but wounds and trauma can be deep-seated in many cases. Because our sexuality is wrapped up with our identities, our sense of self, our personalities, and everything else, when that is set off-track by the psychological and spiritual murder of sexual abuse, it is not an easy feat to find wholeness and healing. The lower-cost alternative, in many cases sadly, is to mask it.

You may be wondering at this point why there is a picture at the top of this post featuring three men--my friend Joseph Sciambra, celebrity provocateur Milo Yiannopoulos, and Catholic journalist Michael Voris--that seems to have nothing to do with what I have been writing about up until now. As public figures in the digital age, they can be open targets for both the right and the left. Joseph is an open-book (for better or worse) online and does not hide his past life as a former gay porn actor and his conversion to Christ, as well as his animosity towards the Catholic Church and leaving it for Orthodoxy; Milo has not been in the news much lately, but has always struck me as a complicated individual, a walking paradox of his own construction who also happens to be Catholic; Voris and Church Militant was never my cup of tea (I always thought their brand of journalism was reckless and sloppy), but of course with the news of his ousting by the CM board it's not hard to notice that, sadly, his secrets were eating him alive. 

For these three SSA men, theirs was the "shirt that never fit." For Joseph, who has suffered abuse (both sexual and ecclesial) at the hands of the Church, he found he could no longer exist in the Stockholm-like situation of remaining Catholic. I do not judge him (which doesn't mean I condone his flight to the arms of the East, only that I understand it). For Milo, his hatred of "the left" and embracing his identity as an “alt-right f*g" was a both perplexing and savage. He sought out his identity in politics, in social media, and in the spotlight--a kind of gay right Paris Hilton--and no exposure was bad exposure. Voris I suspected had struggles with SSA (which was later confirmed), and his bulldog demeanor of hunting down and rooting out enemies of the Faith seemed to be channeled from something deeper within himself. I do believe he loves Christ and the Church, but that there are other issues at play psychologically and spiritually that need to be worked out.

I hate admitting this, but it was fairly obvious from my laptop vantage point over the years that these three particular men were not whole, were wounded and constructing their respective houses as best they knew how. Their constructed personas were compensations, not vocations. 

In Joseph's book Disordered, he wrote about spending his whole life looking for that wholeness in the arms of other men--not because that was the Promised land, but because those arms opened wide and gave him a rental home. And that, I think, is the struggle for most, if not all, gay men: what will make me whole? If my inclinations are, in fact, "disordered," I can turn myself to order myself to the disordered (in the gay lifestyle), or I can "disorder" and contort myself into the order of Catholicism. The first is a deadend, and the second (while it holds the potential for wholeness), when undertaken without addressing the necessary healing, is a recipe for not only cognitive dissonance, but disastrous scandal.  

If the wisdom is in the means, however, it begs the question: is there a middle way between these two unsavory roads? Because I am not a gay man, this not my road to walk. But to think there are not men and women with SSA who kneel with us in the pews at Mass, who live in our neighborhoods and community, who we are not called to love as pro-bono charity cases but as brothers and sisters and equals would be naive at best and an injustice at worst. We need to come to terms as Catholics that we are living among the walking wounded--gay and straight alike--and get off our spiritual high horse and ivory internet towers. The work of healing is hard enough; that we are erecting field hospitals in a war zone to treat the wounded necessitates we become whole ourselves.

All men are called to conform themselves to the cross of Christ, and our crosses are tailor made. Christ died not for some, but for all (2 Cor 5:15). The journey to wholeness--of which our sexuality is just one part--is one we are all called to labor towards, just as we work out our salvation in fear and trembling (Phil 2:12). When we are not whole we employ counterfeits, costumes and personas, in our attempt to find the shirt that fits. For some its a Givenchy suit; for others, it's a pair of stilettos and a halter top; still others a feathered pink boa and a rainbow sash. 

But in all cases, the loving eyes of Christ who calls us to wholeness gaze straight through the wardrobe to the dressing room of the heart. Just as he appeared in the Upper Room to Thomas and the disciples without forcing the door to offer his peace, so too he sees the heart of man (1 Sam 16:7) underneath the clothes we don. He brushes away our past and our sin with a gentle sweep of his arm, steps over the fortified barriers we erect to keep him out because of our wounds, smiles at our feeble defenses and protests and sits down at table to sup with us. 

If you say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," you will soon know that even the darkness will not be dark to Him; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to Him. For He created your inmost being; He knit you together in your mother’s womb. And when you are made whole, you will praise Him--because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You will find then the shirt that fits.

Blood On Our Hands: Preparing For Your First Confession

This afternoon I met a friend for coffee. At almost fifty years old, he is preparing to enter the Church at the Easter Vigil. Thanks be to God. 

We spoke for about two hours at a wrought-iron cafe table under a charcoal November sky, chilled to the bone and nursing our Americanos. We discussed a lot, but most of the conversation revolved around our past lives. Though those pasts are different in some of the details, there is a lot of overlap because we both know the bitter dregs of the flesh, the darkness of our own depravity and the specter of tempting death with the way we lived our lives as dumb and blind sinners. That we were spared when other people in our paths succumbed to overdoses, suicides, prison time, and the weighted blanket of mortal sin was a mystery for us both. I have to believe we were ransomed from the miry pit for a purpose, and that that forgiveness came at a heavy cost--the price of blood. That we should spend our lives in penance and gratefulness for a new lease on life is a given. 

The difference is, I made my first (general) Confession over twenty five years ago, and my friend is preparing to make his now. He feels the weight of his past life and the consequences of certain choices, and is understandably a bit nervous, because "there's a lot." 

When children are preparing for their first Penance, it can be a rather commonplace affair. "I was mean to my brother," or "I took something that wasn't mine." I wish I had their general innocence, but we have to play the cards we're dealt, make restitution as best we can, and trust the power of absolution that makes the crimson stain of sin white as snow by Christ's sacrifice and his desire to reconcile us to himself. He takes our shaking hands, red with the blood of our brethren, into his own, and we can see the lines of our palms again as he speaks those coveted words, "I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit..."

My friend is not alone in his apprehension. For converts to the Faith, it can be intimidating not only to recall our sins--some of which may be grave--and their consequences, but to actually disclose them to another human being. And so I thought I would highlight some of the thoughts I shared with my friend for the benefit of others who may have been away from the Church and the Sacrament for months, years, or even decades, as well as for those converts coming into the Church in a few months and preparing to make their first (General) Confession.

Know you are a marked man

For the sinner turning back to God, Satan will use any means necessary to detour you on your return to the home of grace. He may throw physical or material setbacks in your path (mechanical problems, spousal feuds, health issues, etc) to keep your focus from the spiritual war being waged for your soul and your upcoming appointment with the priest. He may fill you with doubt (that you can ever be forgiven), that your sins are so great that you will scandalize your confessor. He may run scenarios through your head--the attraction of the wide road of turning back to your former, comfortable way of life, the friends you may lose, the (imagined) look of horror on the priest's face. He will use whatever it takes to keep you running from the daylight. He may have you marked, but the devil is on a short leash; he can only tempt you to doubt, despair, or fear which are mirages and distortions of truth. 

You should expect such things not as an aberration, but a means of disarmament. "Dearly beloved, think not strange the burning heat which is to try you, as if some new thing happened to you; But if you partake of the sufferings of Christ, rejoice that when his glory shall be revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy" (1 Pt 4:12-13). Were your soul to have no value, he would not bother. But because you seek the mantle of Christ, he knows he will soon lose a client unless he takes action. So, know that you are marked for destruction, but that God guards the steps of his faithful ones (1 Sam 2:9).

A spiritual colonoscopy

"The penitent man will pass," as Indiana Jones recited in The Last Crusade. Humility and contrition bring the sinner to his knees where he finds the key to the jail cell on the floor at his feet. But there is still a long corridor to walk to daylight. 

“Who can discern his errors?" King David prays, "Forgive my hidden faults. Keep your servant also from wilful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression" (Ps 19:12-14).

To prepare an audit for what may be a long and sordid past, it would be good to spend at least a few days in intentional prayer, alone, aided by fasting. Ask for the grace to have your hidden faults revealed, a grace God will grant the humble and contrite. Employ a good and thorough Examination of Conscience. Though not necessary, from a pragmatic standpoint it can be helpful to write down one's sins, as far back as memory allows, to make sure every crevice is cleaned, every stubborn nook searched and scrubbed, to get it all out and down on paper. Keep the paper safe from view; bring some matches or a lighter with you; for when you emerge from the confessional on that fateful day of forgiveness, you can burn that sheet. Let the flames that consume it be a reminder that your soul was spared from the flames of Hell by the blood of Christ.

Withhold nothing

Confession is our opportunity--maybe for the first time in our lives--to be radically honest with ourselves, another man, and God. You do no favors keeping anything intentionally hidden, and fool no one, for the LORD sees the hidden deeds of men. In fact, were one to do so, their absolution would be nullified. 

"Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD.” And you forgave the guilt of my sin" (Ps 32:5).

If you unintentionally miss something in your examination of conscience, do not let scrupulosity rob you of the joy of forgiveness, for scrupulosity is a tool of the Devil. When we beg, "For these sins and all the sins I cannot remember, I humbly beg pardon, penance, and absolution," we trust that the Lord forgives even those sins we were not aware of in ignorance, as long as we do not intentionally leave them out of our confession. 

Feel the burn of shame

When I made a General Confession a few years ago, there were sins that surfaced from my past that literally burned my tongue as I confessed them out loud. This is the savage beauty of the Sacrament--that we must confess with our mouths, protected by the Seal of the confessional, in which we can get a taste of the effect of sin physically. We can feel disgusted with ourselves, and may shed tears of contrition in the process--this is healing, because these feelings do not back into a dead end, but open up into the expansiveness lightness of our final home, which is Heaven. The festering scabs of shame are bound and treated with the balm of mercy. 

"Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion; instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot; therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion; they shall have everlasting joy" (Is 61:7)

Number and kind (but don't go down rabbit holes)

The Church teaches that mortal sin must be confessed "number and kind;" essentially, what and how many times. This can potentially be overwhelming to enumerate, but do your best to be accurate without getting worked up about it. A contrite heart the Lord will not spurn, but the emotions may or may not track with that depending on your personality--if you do not shed tears, that does not mean you are not contrite, and vice versa. Likewise, you don't need to go into great detail (unless the priest appropriately guides you to clarify something), but do so enough to take accountability for it and what is necessary and no more. Remember Mary Magdalene, whose love for the Lord was intensified because of her great sin which was forgiven. 

"And where sin abounded, grace did more abound" (Rom 5:20)

Neither embellish nor minimize

We are prone to self-deception; Confession is no exception. We should not make ourselves out to be a greater sinner than we are, nor try to minimize what we have done. There is no need to embellish, but one should be truthful. Sin should sear our conscience and cut us to the heart, not puff us up in a depraved pride at how bad we've been. We are putting on the "new man," not holding on to our old shell of sin. Metanoia--turning away from sin--is the proper posture of the penitent. Do not plan to go back to the pigsty, like a dog to his vomit. 

"For the sake of your name, LORD, forgive my iniquity, though it is great" (Ps 25:11).

Trust in the mercy of God, and resolve to sin no more

When you have finished enumerating and confessing your sins (which may take some considerable time), you will be assigned a penance by the priest, perhaps (or perhaps not) given some counsel, and then will make an Act of Contrition before the words of absolution by the priest are spoken over you. "O My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I detest all my sins because of thy just punishment. Most of all, because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more, and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen."

Should you be insincere at this point, and act in presumption that you will return straight away to earn the wages of death in sin (thinking "I can just confess again"), it is akin to one who eats and drinks condemnation upon himself in an unworthy Communion. You should resolve, to the best of your ability, to turn away from the life of sin and never look back. As Christians, we realize that we will fall again, sometimes splendidly so, and that Christ is always there waiting to welcome us back when we are contrite and sorrowful. But this is different from smug presumption, which is worthy of condemnation.  "A just man falls seven times and rises again" (Prov 24:16)

The words of absolution may move you to powerful emotion--the crushing weight of guilt bearing down on your conscience lifted once and for all by Christ--or it may not. But know, and trust in faith, that you are truly forgiven. For the priest acts in persona Christi, and has the authority given to him by Christ himself (through his Apostles) to bind and loose. He has cast your sins into the deepest ocean and plants a "no fishing" sign there. Go in peace....your sins have been forgiven.

"As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us" (Ps 103:12)

Penance and Restitution

You broke the window and the landowner has accepted your apology and forgiven you for your recklessness. But the window is still broken. Sin disrupts the fabric of society, introduces disorder into the world. We can never atone for sin on our own or by the blood of animals, but we can and should attempt to make restitution for those we have harmed by our sin when at all possible. Not only that, but for the baptized (who are not being washed clean of Original and personal sin for the first time) who have been forgiven, penance is our thanksgiving for that grace that we undertake in gratefulness. To the degree it costs us (in comfort, or satiety) in this life and brings us closer in conformity to Christ, it is to that degree that we seek to be free of our disordered attachments which puts something between us and Christ. We do our time here so we do not have to do it after death in Purgatory. Even small penances done hidden and in great love have merit. We do not "earn" our way into Heaven, and cannot atone for sin on our own. But penance is necessary in this life, to a greater or lesser degree according to our sins, if we want to conform ourselves to the selfless abandonment of the Christ we follow to Calvary.

"Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing" (Mt 5:25-26). 

One final note--the new penitent can sometimes feel fear and anxiety that he will die unconfessed if it is still some months away. I have to believe that a humble and contrite heart God will not spurn. And if he is motivated by perfect contrition and the earnest desire to confess sacramentally, even should he die before having the opportunity, that desire merits the Paradise St. Dismas was welcomed into. For God desires that none are lost, but that all should be brought to repentance. 

Keep my friend in your prayers. We were both ransomed from a heavy sentence.

Paper Thin

 I used to marvel at people online who could take hits like Mike Tyson and let it roll off like water off a duck's back. As a budding writer and a generally conflict-avoidant person, I was much more sensitive to saying the wrong thing and getting push back for it. I never went looking for a fight but sometimes I found myself in one. My skin was paper thin.

One of the advantages of getting older is that I'm now finding myself less and less susceptible to the opinions of others, whether I'm liked or not someone's cup of tea. The more I write and the more I try new things, the more inclined I am to shrug my shoulders--if something works or sticks, great. If it doesn't, no big deal. You can't please everyone, nor should you try to. 

I also find myself trying to simplify my life more. One of the reasons I started taking cold showers every morning was because the hot water would take forever to reach our upstairs bathroom. So now I just turn it on to the coldest setting every morning and step in. It hurts, but it's not complicated.

Because I'm not catering my writing to this group or that group, I write what I feel God is leading me to write and let the chips and seeds fall where they do. If people glean something useful from it, great. If not, there's no shortage of other content out there. Negative comments I just kind of shrug off, which I would never have done in the past. I had someone reply in all caps (I assume, to underscore the point) UNSUBSCRIBE when I sent out a yearly personalized email to those who subscribe to this blog, which is fine as well. I've learned to trust my voice, something I never thought would happen. I've seen some fruit, but not an overwhelming harvest, but maybe at some point my day will come. In the meantime, we have to keep doing the work--the hard work of mercy.

Recently I had to do something very hard for me, something I didn't want to do, when it would have been easier and less troublesome to keep my mouth shut. I realized that keeping silent would have been easier, but my conscience kept nagging me, even when the consequences may potentially be losing a good friendship. I turned it over to God, tried to trust my instincts, and was given the grace of indifference and detachment--if it cost me the friendship, so be it. In a marriage or a friendship, in public office or in ministry, it's best to be transparent with nothing to hide, since our secrets can eat us alive. If nothing else, for simplicity's sake.

It's honestly refreshing to not care too much what people think--if you are a writer, you're probably in the wrong business if you're too susceptible to it anyway, since there will always be critics and detractors. In a friendship, if you can't be honest and truthful in charity with someone, even when it's hard to do, what is that friendship based on? 

Because our time is our most valuable currency as we age, we learn to be more discerning with it. More energy spent worrying about the opinions of others, or people who don't agree with us, is just wasted time. I've gotten a little crankier too--more patient in some things, and less in others--and so I'm more inclined to say what I think though I could do a better job doing so in a spirit of charity. If people are pruned from our lives, maybe it's because God is doing something in and for us that we can't do ourselves, and for a purpose we can't see. 

In any case, I'll continue the slog, continue trying to be truthful, continue trying to learn charity and not be so preoccupied with the opinion of others. As St. John Vianney said, "You cannot please both God and the world at the same time.  They are utterly opposed to each other in their thoughts, their desires, and their actions."

As my skin gets tougher (not a bad thing), I pray it is always seasoned with truth, but tenderized with charity. 

Keep Your Focus

I sometimes have a vision, a kind of visual locution in meditation concerning the Holy Spirit.

I am sitting in a grove, or even sometimes a park bench. A white dove flutters in and lands near where I am seated. I don't move, am completely still. Even my breath--in, out, in out--is measured and my racing thoughts settle down to a clear, quiet whisper. 

The dove looks around, then inches slowly closer, ever closer until it is on the bench, then my knee--I cup my hands in my lap, and it cautiously inches in to make a home. I don't dare move, I hardly breathe. I am completely in the moment, this awareness of something special happening.

But then my mind flits and wanders. My motivation shifts from one of accepting this rare moment to possessing it. I think "wouldn't this make a cool shot?" and a brief thought of reaching for my phone pops in my head. Or I think, "wow, I must have some sanctity vibes going off." It's at those moments that the dove, previously docile and calm, gets spooked and is gone in a flash.

Lest this smack of any kind of 'mindfulness,' rest assured it applies to our life of faith as well. God abhors sin, and can not stand in its presence. But because Christ "became sin for us" (2 Cor 5:21), he can enmesh himself in the lives of sinners, though he knew no sin himself. This is the mystery of the incarnation, God subjecting himself to our human state, to enter into time and space and history to redeem us. 

But the 'wave-length' of the Holy Spirit is sometimes very subtle, very hard to tune into due to our concupiscence, our attachments, and our distracted nature. Even when we are in a state of grace and not steeped in mortal sin, we still have imperfections and venial attachments that makes it difficult for the dove of Peace to rest in our hands. The slightest vibration of sin, selfishness, and impure motivations can keep the environment for Him hostile to make a home. 

Take for example this snippet I wrote in "You Are Being Used":

"The same goes for Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) companies. I'll never forget my wife being approached by a friendly young woman our age at our former parish who wanted to "connect." We were new to the parish and were happy to make some friends; that is, until we realized she was connecting with us as part of her network to sell essential oils. 

The same thing happened to us when a man from my bible study invited my wife and I out to coffee with him and his wife. So friendly, took an interest in us, asked us questions about our faith and family. After the second meeting (which we had gotten a baby sitter for, and driven half an hour to meet them), I surmised from the vagueness of his talk about his "mentor" and "opportunities for growth" and "financial security," that something was off. It turned out to be an Amway pyramid-scheme pitch. I felt completely used, and foolish. 

The same thing happened again with another long time friend from college who was recently out of work and approached me with a similar "good opportunity" pitch. It took me a good while to forgive, though I should have been more understanding that he was more or less a victim, not a perpetrator."

I remember that innocent feeling in the second paragraph of thinking, "oh nice, someone wants to be friends," and then later my subtle feelings of unease creeping in when I realized this couple's intentions were not pure. I was attuned enough to feel like 'flight' was the correct response, as I always try to trust my gut and listen to that inner voice. 

I think sometimes the Holy Spirit responds in the same way, and we miss opportunities for grace when our motivations are not humble and pure, like that of Mary at the Annunciation. She is our model here. The Holy Spirit came upon her because of that home, that disposition, which had no guile, no pride and no ulterior motives or selfishness. 

I say this because so many people today have their focus on the church, the world, and their self-image that they often lose the grace of faith and instead are tempted to despair. Gaslighting can come from the Church (especially for victims of abuse), but it can also come from those same victims themselves who have been victimized and so hold in contempt the Church and anyone who remains Catholic. It is an unhealed wound that lashes out to find a home. It is a hard road to healing.

When we focus on the Church as the savior, or politics as our solution, or the reduction of suffering as the answer to our prayer, or for someone rather than ourselves to change, we must often admit that we have lost our focus. At these times, the nervous energy and signals of disquiet spook the Spirit from finding a home and resting in our laps. It is not easy to get to these contemplative states, and let's admit it, most of us only have rare moments of them in our entire lifetime. But this is the wavelength the saints spent the majority of their time--focused on Christ, aided by grace, docile to the Holy Spirit, humble in prayer. This is our model in real-time, just as Paul imitated Christ and Christ showed us the Father. Not to copy, but to guide. 

We are driven to distraction. "See, here is the Christ or there he is!" it says in scripture. This is how we act, both for divine saviors and the "devil under every rock." Meanwhile Christ is asleep on a pillow in the stern, and Peter sinks in the sea. 

Keep your focus not on the Church, but on Christ. Not on clerical martyrs, but on Mary. Not on your parish, but on individuals both inside and outside the walls. Not on programs or initiatives or bullet-point solutions, but on your prayer life. Not on your fear, but on your faith.

The yoke of Christ is easy, his burden light. The Holy Spirit rests where he finds faith and humility. If you find yourself unforgiving, unquiet of mind, pre-occupied with yourself or the opinion of others, or fearful of the state of the world...don't forget to check your focus. 

The Power of Accompaniment, the Beauty of Faith: Tammy Peterson's Testimony of Grace and Healing

 My friend Chad sent me this video tonight that his friend Gabe produced, and I was very glad to receive it. Gabe had the privilege recently of flying to Canada and interviewing Tammy and Jordan Peterson on Tammy's experience praying the rosary for the first time and experiencing a miraculous healing from cancer while praying a novena to St. JoseMaria Escriva. 

I had flown out to visit Chad and his family in Texas a couple years ago, and got the chance to hang out with Gabe at Chad's house--he's the real deal, a man of deep prayer and faith who loves the Lord and his Mother. I'm glad to see that his channel--GabiAfterHours--is getting the recognition it deserves, for the glory of God and exposing people (especially young people) to the truth of the Catholic faith. He is a talented videographer as well, as you will see in the video

Tammy's testimony is so moving for three reasons:

-It highlights the power of accompaniment--true accompaniment--in her friend who visited her every day for five weeks in the hospital and who introduced her to the rosary in the most loving way. 

-It shows a deep humility and childlike beauty in Tammy, whose orientation towards the Divine Will is so pure and trusting. Of course many people know Jordan Peterson (who also appears in the interview and gives his perspective on her new found faith), but as the saying goes "behind every strong man is a stronger woman." 

-It gives a great witness to the beauty of the Catholic faith, the true power of miracles, the irresistible draw of Truth in the face of one's own mortality, and the love of God and especially Mother Mary; who knows what good may come of this to others, but it is truly inspiring and humbling to witness such high profile figures at the beginning stages of a life-changing journey towards faith.

Tammy is also currently in RCIA and, God willing, will be coming into the Church this year. Deo Gratias. Welcome home, Tammy.

I'm so glad Gabe was able to give glory to God by using his gifts and talents for the world to see, and for the Petersons for their willingness to give witness to this miracle that is not only inspiring, but beautiful. May it lead even more people to Christ, his Mother, and the Catholic faith. 

Enough from me. Enjoy the video which just dropped a few hours ago, and be sure to share with others. 

The Great Divides

It's no secret that I write a lot on this blog about the Latin Mass, Traditionalism (the good, the bad, and the ugly), and ancillary topics as they relate to the aforementioned. I'm no expert on these things, just a guy writing from the pew, and that pew where we sit now as a family has changed over the years. As I've written about here, I'm an Eastern Catholic (Byzantine) by rite, but came under the wing of Charismatic monastics early in my year as a Catholic. We spent periods in beige suburban parishes where we felt like fish out of water, but in the last five years have found a home and laid roots in a diocesan Latin Mass community, attending the Latin Mass every Sunday exclusively. 

I'm no stranger to the rich spiritual and liturgical heritage of the East, and am probably more cognizant than your average Catholic that the Church herself is big and diverse, encompassing 5 other rites (besides the Latin rite) and 25 particular churches unified under the Pope in Rome. Neophytes to the TLM can sometimes suffer from "Latin (tunnel) vision" and don't realize something so fundamental about the Church and the liturgy that I think it's worth mentioning.

When we were first discovering the Latin Mass, I wrote a post titled Tradition and Charity: The Face Of Renewal to try to reconcile (for myself) this newfound love of the traditional liturgy with the nagging feeling that the life of a Christian disciple must nonetheless go beyond the walls of the church where we find such safety (in the rubrics of the TLM) and comfort (being among like-minded believers); that we are meant to be a light to the world, and take serious the command (not suggestion) to "make disciples of all nations" (Mt 18:19-20). I spent time early in my conversion devoted to serving the poor, the drug addicted, and refugees in the inner city trying to "pray the black, do the red." I wanted to follow the Holy Spirit, the "wild goose" and go wherever he led me, even when it took me to crazy places. I hit the streets doing public evangelization and made a fool of myself in many ways--a fool for Christ. In all of this, God has been faithful, wasting nothing in the process.

But that nagging feeling has persisted--yes we have found a solid community of like-minded believers; yes, the Latin Mass is more edifying than the Novus Ordo and objectively speaking, is more fitting for Catholic worship. Yes, we have lost many of the powerful prayers and rites that have been excised in the post-conciliar church, and the reclaiming of our patrimony is a good thing. The temptation for all good things, however, is to pitch a tent and set up camp, as Peter proposed on Mt. Tabor at the Transfiguration and say "Lord, it is good that we are here" (Mt 17:4). 

So, when my friend Kevin texted this afternoon because he was taking a course through Encounter Ministries and was getting impatient to "do something" (going "out there" to make disciples and heal the sick, spread the Good News, and proclaim Christ to the world), it was a bit of a crisis of conscience for me. Hadn't Dr. Mary Healey (who is the Encounter School Curriculum Advisor) written critically of the Latin Mass and the renewed interest in the TLM in Church Life Journal? And hadn't Dr. Peter Kwasniewski (whom has been a supporter of many of my pieces, and for whom I had written a review of one of his many books) skewered her and her colleagues in response in the edited work Illusions of Reform? And hasn't Fr. Ripperger mentioned in a number of his conferences about his wariness of Charismatics in general? This is all insider-baseball in the Catholic liturgical and traditionalism world where I write from the peripheries, stuff my friend Kevin most likely isn't aware of or if he is, could care less about. All he knows is a fire has been lit inside of him, and he is seeing with eyes that see that the Catholic faith and the power of the Holy Spirit are the best kept secret that simply can't be hidden any longer. It has to get out there. 

I remember watching the Fearless documentary when it came out a few years ago, probably not long after I got back from attending a St. Paul Street Evangelization conference after listening to Fr. Mathias Thelen, Ralph Martin, Janet Smith, and Mary Healey speak, and experiencing the sessions of healing that took place there, thinking to myself "Yes, yes." And then also having a similar (though more subdued) reaction after watching the Mass of the Ages documentary (though that was after having attended to the Latin Mass exclusively for three or four years already)--"yes, yes." It didn't take me long to realize, though, that these kinds of Catholic enclaves--the Charismatics and the Traditionalists--were as far apart from one another as the Irish and black ghettos were in New York City in the early 20th century. As the saying goes, you can't have your cake and eat it too. 

One thing I admire about Elon Musk is his unwillingness to play by the way things are supposed to be done. People said you can't disrupt the automotive industry--it's too hard, too entrenched--and he took it as a challenge and Tesla was born. People said you can't have a private company that does space exploration, and he responded in the same way. Whereas NASA's model was "Failure is not an option" and had stalled for decades as a result of their unwillingness to take risks and think outside the box, Musk assured his SpaceX team "It's ok to fail." Because nothing great ever happens without risk.

I sometimes wonder if Peter and Andrew had hesitated when Christ called them to leave their home, their family, and their jobs and come follow him. But scripture makes clear they dropped their nets "at once" (Mt 4:20) at those three words. When we get comfortable in our tribes and risk-averse, we tend to keep our radios tuned into the same stations. I know faithful Catholics who won't even attend a Latin Mass--either out of principal or based on second-hand information--just as I know many traditionalists who hold Charismatics and things like healing ministries in suspicion. 

Because my friend Kevin is looking to me to help him "go out there and do something" for Christ I don't want to let him down. He wants to go straight into the warzone of Kensington (one of the largest open air drug markets in the country, just a half hour from my house) and pray over the tranq-addicts, arming ourselves with Narcan just in case we accidentally brush up against some fentanyl in the process. And I would, but I told him this evening "let's start local and work up to that" with a smile. 

The thing is, I must have a little bit of that Elon Musk thinking in me because I'm thinking to myself "Well, why can't we? Why can't we have our cake and eat it too?" Just because I assist at the Latin Mass doesn't mean I can't pray over people in need of healing and the Holy Spirit on the street? Or just because I'm open to such things and believe in faith that God can move mountains, heal instantly, move mountains...that means I'm resigned to worship in a way that is less fitting, less reverent, less traditional just "because trads are 'mean, rigid, etc'"?

While people on the traditionalist side are angsting over the Strickland hammer drop and writing articles and worrying about everything coming out of Rome, and people on the Charismatic side of the spectrum would never consider giving the TLM a chance, I'm here in the middle thinking to myself "I want it all. I want the traditional liturgy. I want the power of the Holy Spirit. I don't want to choose" in this binary manner. And I look at the enthusiasm with which my friend Kevin has, his amusing impatience, and his pure intentions and I think to myself "Well, why not? What do we have to lose? We have the Truth. We have the assurance of faith. We have everything we need by grace. Why can't we do big things for Christ?"

Like Tex-Mex and Asian Fusion, maybe there's a place for traditionally minded Catholics like myself to stretch and push ourselves uncomfortably out from the safe space of the parish walls and follow the Holy Spirit where he leads--whether that's on the streets, witnessing at a gay pride parade, starting a conversation with a complete stranger, or simply being willing to look like a fool for Christ. And maybe there's a place for charismatic Catholics to be open to worship that isn't extemporaneous or untethered, but disciplined and structured and efficacious. If you say "no, you can't do that," I would simply ask "Well...why not?"  

You can't pick grain on the Sabbath (Mt 12:1-2)

You can't heal today (Mk 3:1-6)

You can't talk to that woman (Jn 4:9)

You can't cut through that region (Jn 4:4)

You can't feed all these people (Mt 14:1-2; Mk 6:14-16; Lk 9.7-9)

It's interesting that the only place where Jesus "couldn't do any miracles" (Mk 6:5) was because of the lack of faith of those in his hometown, and this lack of faith "amazed him" (Mk 6:6). But to those who possess faith, what does he say?

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done."

These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will drive out demons, they will speak new languages. They will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not harm them. They will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover." 

Do not be unbelieving, but believing" (Mt 21:21; Mk 16:17-18; Jn 20:27)

As the Church descends into more and more factions and camps, those who side with this or that prelate, who worship in this or that manner....maybe there is a place for others who aren't content to accept the boundaries we establish, the walls we erect to keep ourselves in and others at arms length, or the stunting of faith with regards to what is possible for true renewal in the Church and in the world. "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 18:3) For the kingdom of God belongs to the child-like... and little children have not learned these artificial divides--the actual from the imaginary, the possible from the impossible, the real from the ideal. They dream big and they believe the words of those they trust and love, even when they don't have the head knowledge or life experience or bitter disappointments to tell them otherwise. Maybe it's time we humble ourselves and follow the example of these little ones, so that we too can begin to get to work and not be put off by the divides we see that are, for all intents and purposes, largely illusory.  

Please Don't Post My #death

 I've made three requests of my wife for when my time comes to pass from this world to the next--whether that is tomorrow or fifty years from now. I haven't gotten around to drafting my death wish in writing, but she knows the following are my three requests when it comes time:

-Requiem Latin Mass (a given)

-No eulogy (will probably be contested, but I won't be there to fight her on it)

-No sharing of my passing on social media or any kind (a non-negotiable)

The window of death is one of the most sacred portals we can pass through. It is the anti-opus; everything in your life culminates in that moment, but at the same time it amounts to but a drop in the ocean of eternity. What you lived for, what you died for, what you worked all your life for--all of it will be revealed and judged. But the only one whose judgment matters is the one who sits on the Throne of Judgement.

Having Masses said for the dead is a supreme act of charity and is the most valued currency in the spiritual economy. If you've ever been to a requiem TLM, it is a fitting send off--solemn, reverent, a good visual reminder, and everything the dead deserve. I can't say the same for other funerals I have attended, because they are quite the opposite. 

On the second point, my request for no eulogy should not be controversial, as this practice has no place in the context of a Catholic Mass. Eulogy is Greek for "words of praise," and if anyone is going to be praised at the Holy Sacrifice for how he lived, what he taught and how he died, that man is Christ. I would even prefer were there a homily given, it doesn't involve me at all, but perhaps an allowance could be made for the things I held to in this life as they reflect back to the glory of Christ in the context of the Gospel--discipleship, forgiveness, prayer, charity. The poor are blessed not only because they hold company with Lazarus who was welcome into blessed repose, but also because they die in obscurity and with little fanfare. They are remembered in Heaven, because they never had the consolation of remembrance or praise in this life. 

On the final point--my wife has mentioned that social media is "cheap." I think she means it in the way Bonhoeffer referred to the "cheap grace" that so many Christians seek. And so she has agreed to honor this wish because she knows the nature of it and that I'm serious about it. To be scrolling through and see a post on the horrors of war, followed by a funny cat video and then an advertisement for bathrobes or whatever elevates the frivolous and cheapens the elevated until everything is content and nothing is worth anything. We've all bought into and fallen prey to this, and people are starting to wake up and extricate themselves from this experiment of exploitation-gone-wrong. The more people the better, in my opinion. 

I'm not exactly a public figure, but I've put myself out there in this digital landscape like a fisherman to pay back my debt to Christ under obligation in the hopes that "some might be saved." This is my cross, and I bear it gladly. 

But I also know that the wise man knows the true nature of things, as he says

"For the living know that they die, and the dead do not know anything, and there is no more reward to them, for their remembrance has been forgotten" (Ecc 9:5)

and

"For neither the wise nor the fool will be long remembered, since in days to come everything will be forgotten" (Ecc 2:16)

And so it is inevitable that we will be forgotten, and quicker than we might think; if we live knowing the footprints we leave in this life will not be cast in bronze, the sooner we can get to the work of laboring in charity and obscurity for the things which moth will not destroy, and no one will want to steal. We will be more apt to give with our right hand while our left hand is left in the dark; we will not seek our names on stadiums or auditoriums. Our memory will be safely embalmed in the minds of those who matter, those whom we loved, not in cheap digital posts to be scrolled through and forgotten.   

After Confession last night, my penance was to pray the prayer of St. Francis three times. It is fitting that the good St. Francis wanted to die naked, eschewing even his beloved ragged and patched habit; he only put it on under obedience. I've prayed it before, but never paid much attention to the words:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Death for the Christian is the ultimate sentence and the ultimate gift. When we are caught unaware like foolish virgins, we should tremble; but as St. Robert Bellarmine said, "he who lives well, dies well" and so I look forward to the day when the Lord will call me home and loose me from my debt I've incurred and tried to repay in this life. When He calls is His good judgment. I know He is the only one I have to answer to. For He has promised me, “Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee" (Is 49:15).

The State Of Catholic Manhood

 

I will be giving a talk at a retreat for college-aged men this evening. I would ask for your prayers that I am simply a mouthpiece for the Holy Spirit. 

It is not easy being or becoming a man today, mostly because we have no idea what it's supposed to look like. Weak community bonds mean rites of passage are an artifact of a bygone era. Men are given conflicting messages from our culture and women in general: Don't be toxic. Don't hold the door. You're expendable. And there is a gaping father wound to deal with as well.

24 million children (34%) live absent their biological father. Nearly 20 million children (27%) live in single-parent homes. 43% of first marriages dissolve within fifteen years; about 60% of divorcing couples have children; and approximately one million children each year experience the divorce of their parents. This has a huge effect on young men today, because as St. Paul said "be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Cor 11:1). Figures like Jordan Peterson (okay) and Andrew Tate (best to be avoided) are trying to step in to plug this hole and provide guidance and an archetype in the online space, but this is a poor substitute for the real-life modeling of fathers, priests, and tribes of men to learn from and emulate in real time. 

There's also the leaching of feminism into the culture at large that affects both men and women. If there is an innate and biological desire to protect, provide, and be needed, feminism undermines all of these things. Men are nearly twice as likely to have mental health problems due to being unemployed than women. Young, single, idle men in developing countries are prime candidates for radical extremist groups to recruit. Men simply languish when they feel they are not contributing to anything, when they have no purpose or are unnecessary. 

Even young Catholic women often have unrealistic expectations of a Catholic man to marry. They come with their lists of qualities and attributes and if they are not all checked in their entirety, they take a pass. Young men, as well, have imbibed the passivity and docility that feminism inadvertently encourages, and so struggle to approach or initiate any kind of courting. It's a recipe for frustration.

There's two sides to this pendulum: in a post-modern society, there are no archetypes, no models, no established and time-tested norms for anything, let alone what makes a man. In a pre-modern society, however, there was no room for deviation. If a man showed the least sign of gentleness or perceived effeminacy,  he was cast out. This would include men who struggle with SSA, or are simply wired differently with less masculine traits. 

I look to Christ as the model of the perfect, quintessential man. He synthesized the best of both male and female, as God made us. He endured suffering and faced hardship like a man. He had no guile, and was a model of integrity. He did not shy away from speaking the truth. He mobilized a band of brothers as disciples. He flipped over the tables of injustice in righteous anger. He laid down his life for his friends. But he also wept, had a tenderness to towards sinners and the oppressed, spoke as easily to women as he did to men. Jesus' masculinity was not "toxic," but nor was it haughty or warped. He knew who he was. He was the model of confidence--and that confidence rested in his standing with the Father and the Father's love for him. 

Nature abhors a vacuum. The internet is a good place to learn how to fix a finicky furnace or how to skin a deer, but it's a poor substitute for how to live like a man among men. The Catholic world is replete with men in their mid-twenties pecking away in comboxes with avatars of knights and warriors, but deep down there is an insecurity that belies their online bravado. This is because online communities are not real communities partly, but also because there is no real accountability or apprentice model of taking a young man under one's wings and being a father-figure to him in real-time. At the root of that insecurity is not wanting to admit that they do not know what it means to be a man, how to be a man, or even if there is such a thing in the wake of postmodernity. Porn, video games, social media--this is the white sugar of men's diets today.

The fact is, however, that these are not unhealable wounds. God the Father through the incarnation of His son shows us the quintessential archetype of manhood in the person of Christ. A good husband does not sit back in his recliner expecting to be waited on hand and foot by his wife. A good father does not shy away from disciplining his children and modeling love by how he treats his wife. A good man of faith does not shirk away from the hard work of prayer and penance. A good man of God does not project confidence in his own righteousness, but knows his dependence on Christ and his grace for all that is good. 

Like learning what it means to be a Catholic, or how to live as a Catholic family, there is a place for a diversity of living out one's manhood. There is a place for men who (like me) think with a "female brain;" there is a place for men with SSA who strive to live chaste lives and follow Christ; men who don't happen to like sports or beer or cigars or whatever; men who are short in stature or who have soft voices. Because these aren't the things that make a man anymore than going to Mass or praying the rosary makes you a Catholic. 

It's human nature to over-swing the pendulum to correct the errors of the past. The Church is too modern? Tradition is the answer. Feminism has run amuck? So-called "toxic" masculinity will step in to take it's place. Liberalism has taken hold of everything? Conservativism will be our savior. Etc. As always, the truth is in the mean, because this is where virtue lives. And this applies to archetype of manhood as well, Catholic or otherwise. 

People Want Abortion (Redux)

 *This is an older post I wrote in November 2021, but I think it still holds true, especially in light of what was voted for in Ohio yesterday. May God have mercy on us. "With a wicked heart he deviseth evil, and at all times he soweth discord. To such a one his destruction shall presently come, and he shall suddenly be destroyed, and shall no longer have any remedy" (Prov 6:14-15)

 In the 1992 movie Singles, urban planner Campbell Scott is having a passionate conversation about the future of transportation with Kyra Sedgwick in his apartment. His dream is to transform Seattle with his idea for a "supertrain:"

Scott: "Let me ask you a question. You think about traffic? Because I do, constantly. Traffic is caused by the single car driver. Single people get in their cars every morning. They drive and wonder why there's gridlock. 

This is what I've been working on. If you had a Supertrain...you give people a reason to get out of their cars. Coffee, great music...they will park and ride. I know they will."

Sedwick: "But I still love my car, though."

Scott: "Well... Oh."

There's another one, in which Scott has a sit-down with the mayor of Seattle where he gives the same pitch, and receives the same response: People love their cars. He gets flummoxed, his pitch-window closing quickly. It's as if he couldn't believe that people would hold such an illogical view (driving a car) in the face of all the seemingly obvious advantages of public transportation.  

I've thought about that scene a lot over the years, and more recently, in light of the work of those involved in the pro-life movement. I'm sure those working tirelessly to support pregnant mothers, found crisis pregnancy centers, change legislation, and provide alternatives to abortion have found themselves from time to time feeling like their pitch to choose life comes up against a wall similar to that of the transportation planner in the film. And the wall is this:

People choose abortion because they want abortion

Despite it being healthy, natural, effective, and virtually free, less than 2% of the U.S. population utilizes Natural Family Planning.  The "inconvenience" of unwanted pregnancies in most people's minds far outweighs any potential advantages this system of regulation of births promises. It's a tough pitch to skeptics, because it requires a metanoia of mind and heart--in how we think of children, the Natural Law, and the means and ends of human sexuality, and the nature of personal sacrifice.

I bring up NFP because for many people, abortion has served as a kind of backup contraceptive in today's culture. Abortion-as-contraception doesn't prevent pregnancy, obviously, but is used to prevent the live birth of a child. Not all those who abort their child do so willingly--some are coerced by family members or boyfriends, even if they would in fact want the child. But many do choose abortion willingly as the most convenient, lowest-cost, least intrusive way to deal with their unwanted pregnancy. Even when they have the option to give up their child for adoption, or receive help in raising it.

I also get hot under the collar when I think of all those couples who DO want children but can't, and so are open to adoption. Is it a supply-and-demand issue that creates such financial and bureaucratic barriers to doing so? Even when a couple would pay for everything and beg and plead with a young woman tempted to abort to have the child, it is a rare incidence in which they decide to do so--they may not want to carry to term, or have people know they are pregnant. Abortion is "convenient," "easy." It makes the "problem" go away.

Abortion ushers in not only the death of a child but the death of the soul. It is not healthy--it deforms cultures and warps consciences. But when contrasted with what an individual is called to when they decide to raise up a child, the sacrifices called for, the commitment and potential difficulties, is it a wonder abortion is chosen as the "path of least resistance," the most "convenient" option? That doesn't make it good (an evil that can never be justified). But why are we surprised when people of a wicked generation choose what is wicked, even when presented with life-giving and live-saving alternatives? When 98% of people actively work to prevent pregnancy in their relationships through contraception, and when that fails always have abortion as a "backup?" 

I really don't have any answers. Maybe it's not a fair analogy, but sometimes I feel like the pro-life movement is that Supertrain pitch to try to get people out of their cars. Public transportation is a good thing in a lot of ways; it's efficient, it makes sense. And yet, people love their cars. They won't easily part with them. 

I hope I'm wrong. I wish we would have a mass-conversion away from the scourge of abortion-on-demand and a transformation to a culture of life. I don't know if this is the ethos of organizations like Live Action, etc. I have nothing but the utmost respect for those fighting in the trenches day after day, proposing alternatives and doing the good work. They are up against a lot. But people want abortion, because their ways are evil. Try to take it away and see what happens. We will not be delivered as a generation, but by grace.

I have to think that the words of St. Peter are a sober reminder, though, "And if a righteous person is saved with difficulty, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?" (1 Peter 4:18).  God wiped out humanity with a flood because of their wickedness. His patience will not last forever (Rom 9:22-24). 

The Blind Leading The Blind

I voted before work in our local municipal election. I don't want to take the opportunity to vote for granted, and it only took a few minutes. 

I'm a fairly ignorant citizen, but I want to be informed. I'm finding, however, it very difficult to get any kind of information on the candidates for district judge, school board, supervisor, etc in this election besides their party affiliation and names. There are lawn signs everywhere at intersections. They are all listed on the sample ballot on our county's website. But when it came time for me to try to figure out who to vote for based on their platforms, proposals, voting records, etc., I was coming up short. 

I asked our neighbor, who sent me our county's website which, like I mentioned above, simply lists the names and party. I asked people at work and friends, who couldn't answer me. I even asked the local retired State Representative, who said, "I'm sorry, I don't have a good answer for you." I would have thought there would have been a non-partisan 3rd party groups like "Center for Informed Votership" or something where they could do the heavy lifting (but simple) work of linking a website or bio to each candidate's name on the county website sample ballot. 

So what, exactly, are we basing our votes on then? Who had the most lawn signs out? Are we picking candidates to vote for the way we pick wine out from the liquor store "Oh, this label looks pretty. This is fine." Seems like a completely ignorant way of voting, and I'll take full responsibility for my part in it. But I want to do better. I want to be informed. It's scary this is how our democracy functions, because I know I can't be the only one who is struggling with this. 

My wife and I had dinner with an old-coworker of hers who is coming back to the Faith. We had given her a Miraculous Medal a couple months ago when her mom died, and it seems like grace is already working there. After dinner, we didn't waste any time--I gave her an Examination of Conscience sheet, a pamphlet for how to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet I found in my car plus a rosary, and told her about the joys and hardships of living by faith, some basic apologetics and catechesis, and encouraged her by way of invitation to check out the Latin Mass with us where we assist. She was amenable to it all, which was a great joy. And we pray for her every day, as she is now our spiritually adopted daughter. 

Many new Catholics want to be informed, want to be faithful, but sometimes don't know where to start. They need a trusted friend or vetter to take them under their wing and say, "This site is good, this priest is a heretic, this book is solid, this parish is beige," etc. Otherwise the James Martins and Richard Rohrs of the world are just as much a priest as the solid orthodox ones who actually care about souls. Often those who "went to Catholic school K-12" or "were taught by nuns" or whatever are some of the most ignorant when it comes to orthodox teaching and basic catechesis.

If you have been gifted with the faith and graced with conviction, that's where you come in. Don't waste opportunities to educate and support when there's an opening. Don't be afraid to be both kind and frank, and speak the truth to someone while making it clear you are walking with them. Don't overwhelm them, but give some rich milk to start before starting on solid food. Definitely pray for them with laser focus, every day, and make sacrifices. Gift them with sacramentals. Share your wealth of learned knowledge of who to avoid and what sources can be trusted. It's not easy to get there, and many of us have bumbled and stumbled for years trying to get to this point for lack of a guide. Be that guide. In this "messy" ecclesiastical environment in which we find ourselves, it can be like walking in a fog without a lantern otherwise.

No one goes into the jungle alone. You are not a blind guide, but have the light of faith. Light someone else's candle with your own. That's how the light gets into the world to dispel the darkness of ignorance and unbelief.