Faithful To The End

 I have been at my current job for almost ten years now. I think it suits me well, I've found my groove, and I'm relatively competent in it. Dare I say, I like what I do. 

But over the course of the past ten years, our department has undergone tremendous upheaval and endured a lack of stability for years on end. I have had six different bosses during that time, and have been pushed to the brink during COVID with the implementation of a new system and having to cover multiple jobs while people were out on leave. There were times when I perused LinkedIn to see what else was out there, as I was generally feeling unappreciated and unhappy. 

My dad was a public school teacher for thirty years. It was his only professional job, and in those last few years, it was a real grind for him. He personally benefited from staying in that position, and I have incentives to stay in mine that other people may not have. For some people, it may make sense to hop around in order to move up the career ladder, or try new things. 

I've heard that "people don't quit jobs, they quit bosses." There's a lot of truth to that. In my situation, I liked my job but experienced a degree of professional PTSD in which what seemed normal to myself my colleagues was actually pretty dysfunctional and unhealthy. For a number of years and during these periods, I just put my head down and grinded it out.

I think the 'grass is greener' mentality is a real thing--that this or that job will be better than my current one--but it isn’t always telling the whole truth. The same way depression says "it will never get better," or you become convinced in your marriage that the only way to happiness is by leaving it.

In my situation, I was glad I stayed and rode out those periods. I got a new director and new dean this year who are great, my colleagues returned from leave and I went back to just doing one job, and we seem to be stabilizing the ship. Even though things were awful, they got better. That's not to say they can't get worse. But even if they do, my intention is to still, hopefully, put my head down and grind it out. 

For many Catholics, remaining in the Church can be trying. The Church, for all intents and purposes, appears to be completely dysfunctional, mismanaged, and corrupt beyond belief. The captain comes across as abusive and vindictive, and demoralizes those most devoted to the mission of the organization. Things appear to have no rhyme or reason; it's as if She has forgotten what she stands for. 

Does anyone else feel this way? I certainly do.

But I also love being Catholic. I am grateful for my ransoming and redemption by Christ the Savior, grateful for the corporal body of the local church, indebted to her timeless teaching, and my life is infinitely better because of my faith and religion. That doesn't mean its all roses and level paths. But were I to "quit" the Church because of the "bad boss" or the drama or dysfunction, I would be infinitely worse off.

Now, a job is not a faith, and there is nothing wrong with job hopping. I only use the example analogously. I have also made the case to "stick it out" in faith and marriage here and here. When all seems lost, that is when the forgotten seed of resurrection sprouts. As Peter asked when people were leaving Christ on account of his teaching, "To whom should we go, Lord? You have the words of eternal life." (Jn 6:68). 

Bad popes come and go. So do good popes. God will reveal all things at the end of the age, and our salvation depends on our own faith and perseverance, not the state of the Vatican or the Church. If anything, when things are most dysfunctional and a source of embarrassment, Christ gives us the great opportunity to rise up and be fools for the Kingdom, to do the work of restoration and in doing so earn our heavenly reward. 

But you don't gain that when you defect, just as those who divorce after decades will never experience the Golden Years of married life. Yes, there may be the allure of "great community" in your local mega-Church, or beautiful liturgy in Orthodoxy, or what have you. The Church is going through a great trial, and as scripture says, even the elect will be deceived during this period, were that even possible (Mt 24:24). But only those who remain faithful to the end will be saved (Mt 24:13). You don't earn the crown by quitting the race.

Darkness comes before dawn. We must remain vigilant and watchful. That is the spirit of Advent, especially, so it is apropos to do so now and not wait. No matter how bad or dysfunctional things get in the Church, nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus. 

Nothing.

Sit Not With Scoffers

Every now and then I will check on updates from former acquaintances in the faith who have since left it. Some are trying to figure out and reinvent themselves as former Christians. Some have simply transferred their former religious affiliations to a new flavor. Others have apologized for their former "hateful" way of life and like a college freshman coming home on Fall break, have done a 180 and love-is-lovingly embraced everything that was formerly counter to their religion. It's a cocktail of nuevo-kitch, tired predictability, and honest sadness. I'll sip the drink poolside in curiosity, but at the bottom of the glass it's just bitters.  I really need to stop following apostates.

Of the 150 psalms, the very first psalm, very first verse, begins: 

"Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of pestilence." (Ps 1:1, DRA)

Why would David begin his Psalter like this? And why does St Paul in 1 Cor 5:11 exhort: the brothers:

"But now I have written to you, not to keep company, if any man that is named a brother, be a fornicator, or covetous, or a server of idols, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner: with such a one, not so much as to eat." 

As St. Paul also notes, "a little leaven leavens the whole lump" (Gal 5:9). Or, as a popular adage goes, "you are the company you keep." Believers are not immune to immoral influence, and the sowing of the seeds of doubt and scorn can be absorbed through the skin over time. 

Maybe this is why David promises the believers who find their delight in the law of the Lord that they will be "like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers" (Ps 1:3). The goal is not to become a religious person, a "devout Catholic," or an exemplar within the community, but a lover of God's law and one who does His will. 

I think at the root of many of these disillusioned apostates and former Catholics is a deep seated woundedness. There can be a sense that their new juvenile atheism or their fervent conversion to non-deonimationalism, Orthodoxy, or what have you is the cure for their wound, which was caused by the Church herself. In some cases, this is not without warrant. One friend was abused within the Church, and is right to hurt and distrustful. But his anger and disgust for the institutional Church consumes him. It is clear from the outside (though maybe not from where he sits) that his wounds have not healed. I pray he finds his peace. But I'd bet whatever the new religion du jour is, it will simply mask over things unresolved. Healing must take place at the root. 

For another, his antagonism is directed at the community of believers and the institution itself. But in all these years, I have never heard him speak of his relationship with Christ. That's not to say he didn't have one, just that he never spoke of it or made it known. From where I stand--of COURSE the community is going to let you down; of COURSE the Church is dysfunctional and the power players within it hardly worthy of trust. The peripheries are easy targets, but the core, the center which holds everything together which is Christ, is nary mentioned. 

Why do I follow these wounded trainwrecks and listen to anything they have to say? I would not emulate them, and I do not respect their character, so why would I allow myself to be influenced by them or feed their narcissism and need for an audience? I can pray for them, sure, and I do; I know their wounds run deep and can only be healed by Christ the Divine Physician. I do not feel they are open to (loving) reproach, either, but only see it as further salt on their scars. They seek to bleed the pain by venting and continually throwing light on all the dysfunctions and abuses within the Church for others to see. 

I don't know if it is cognitive dissonance on my part, but none of this shakes my faith in Christ, my healer and deliverer. It may shed light on things I already know, or was only maybe loosely aware of. They may even have valid things to say, which I can try to sift through and respect for what it's worth. Then again, maybe it's like reading a Richard Rohr book just because he mentions Christ once or twice in it.

Part of it is probably a sinful curiosity as well. I don't wish them ill, but I do see they have not only separated themselves from the Church, but have nothing but contempt for it now. I would not count them as enemies, but it's hard to remain friends with such people, as much for them as for me. 

What more can we do? Treat them as tax collectors, as our Lord tells us--that is, sinners worthy of love and forgiveness, ones that are extended the invitation to come follow Christ by Christ himself--even if they have given up their seat at the table for their own personal greener pastures. 

Apostasy: A Social Contagion?

 Have you ever thought it funny/weird that yawning seems to be totally contagious, especially in closely-bonded groups? One person in a group can literally set off a proverbial yawn-fest! 

Contagious yawning is one of those curious/quirky phenomenon, of course. But did you also know that divorce is contagious too, especially when it occurs among friends? That is, if your friends are divorced, you are 75% more likely to follow suit in your own marriage. Scary!

The fact that divorce among friends seems to spread as a kind of social contagion made me think of something my dad used to say: "you are the company you keep." I used to think he was just being overly-strict in regulating who we hung out with as kids, but looking back he was probably trying to stave off issues down the road. 

I was having a discussion via text with some of the guys in my men's group the other day. Half of the guys attend the N.O., and half the Latin Mass. We were talking about our kids and behavior, and I (and a couple other TLM guys) brought up the point that our kids fell in line pretty quick behavior wise when we started attending the Latin Mass. This is because, I think, of the sense of reverence, and that the other kids are for whatever reason, seem to be behaved and so the social contagion of good behavior spreads. I wrote about our experience with this here.

We are fortunate that we have strong, well-balanced friends of faith that our kids can play and grow with in their co-ops and our various local circles. All these kids, and their families, are what I would consider "good influences" for our kids. In contrast, my wife and I were talking not long ago about the class she went to high school with in Catholic school, and that virtually no-one practiced the faith any more in any serious way. The social contagion of "this is all bullshit" in Catholic school seemed to spread and settle, leading to eventual apostasy, essentially.

I think the spread of the mass-delusion of trans-everything among peer groups these days is also hard to deny:

"In 2016, Brown University public health researcher Lisa Littman was scrolling through social media when she noticed that a group of teen girls from her small town in Rhode Island — all from the same friend group — had come out as transgender.

Intrigued by the statistical unlikelihood, Littman began to study the phenomenon and, in 2018, published the results. She hypothesized that transgender identification had become one more peer contagion among adolescent females. Anxiety-ridden, middle-class girls who once engaged in cutting or anorexia were now wearing “binders” (breast-compressing undergarments), taking testosterone and undergoing voluntary double mastectomies

I have interviewed over four dozen families whose teen daughters became caught in this current. Their stories follow a pattern: A girl never expresses any discomfort with her biological sex until puberty, when anxiety and depression descend. The girl struggles to make friends. She immerses in social media and discovers transgender gurus. Or her school holds an assembly celebrating gender journeys, or hosts a Gay-Straight Alliance club pushing gender ideology. At first, she tries out a new name and pronouns. Her school encourages her, keeping all this a secret from her parents. Then, she wants more."

There is a guy I know who used to be Catholic, and now I'm not sure what he is. But he maintains a big platform/social presence online, albeit with contempt and ridicule for the Church and all things Catholic. I still find him to be an interesting, smart and thoughtful guy, and I benefit in some ways from the things he writes. 

But I worry about this social contagion of his newfound agnosticism (for lack of a better word) among those who read what he writes--myself included. If I continue to tune in, will his contempt for the faith rub off on me? Make me question things? Force me to face unanswered speculations that don't get challenged in my Catholic social groups? I do see it happening in some of of his followers. Like, "I used to believe this nonsense, and now I'm enlightened to life on the other side." And it spreads like a yawn--a divorce from faith, if you will.

You could make the argument that these folks were maybe disaffected already by bad experiences in tradworld, or the larger Church, or trauma/abuse, or by doubt, and suddenly they are finding solace in the experiences of others that confirm they are not alone, not crazy for losing faith. In this way, the facilitation of leaving the faith (that this particular guy is greasing the slide of) is seen as a positive "throw off your shackles of mind-oppression and control" phenomenon. But if it's all true, all real, the world of heaven and hell, well...I wouldn't want to be this guy at the Final Judgement. 

As I wrote in Apostasy and the Casualties of War, 

"I was thinking about apostasy, the spectre that seems to hide in every closet, every corner, under every lampstand I encounter these days. The smell is nauseating and unnerving; it gets in your clothes like cigarette smoke. Faith in this age is under siege, and I'm not even talking about the collective faith of Catholics or Christians in America; in the heart of each and every man, his faith is under fire. Someone or something is seeking to wrench it from his being, cause him to lose heart or strip him of faith or consolation, hope and fortitude. My buddies and people I know are lying all around me, getting picked off by snipers, getting legs blown off, getting mowed down by machine guns, losing their souls one skipped prayer, one missed Mass, one self-justifying excuse, one innocent click at a time.

Why do people abandon the Faith? Who will endure to the end? Is it just a matter of time before I join their ranks? Will I lose my children to the age? A friend of mine, a once faithful Catholic and family man, stopped going to Mass. Family members too. People experiencing loss and suffering, instead of doubling down and tying themselves to the mast, gradually stop praying altogether and simply drift away or run aground. For some it's a sin they can't let go of, or a past, or a trauma, or a hurt, or a betrayal, or seeing too much of how the sausage is made. For some it's the old question of why bad things happen to 'good people,' or why God would allow someone they love to suffer, or some earnest but unanswered prayers. I feel like the guys to my left and to my right and in front of me and behind me are just being shredded by machine gun fire, and whose to say I'm not next, my family, my children."

I used the word 'spectre' because apostasy makes people of faith uncomfortable when they are faced with it. "How could so-and-so who was so faithful, had so many kids, believed so hard, was so invested fall?" It is unnerving. Maybe that is why the ancient Israelites expelled people from their midst, banned sinners from their community--to stave off a spiritual infection of the greater whole. Maybe it is the medicine St. Paul prescribes to the church to "not even eat with such a (immoral) man" (1 Cor 5:11), lest this spiritual contagion of immorality spread to the other members. Maybe it is why our Lord tells us to cut off the hand and gouge out the eye in a kind of spiritual amputation, that prevents the gangrene from spreading to the healthy parts of the body. 

Apostasy is a kind of divorce--a divorce from faith. It severs the bond and vow, voluntarily, when one "falls out of love"--that is, they "no longer believe any of this stuff." You could imagine a man or woman who built a life and had children with their spouse saying "I can't believe I ever loved you. What was I thinking!" So, they move on in a seeming fit of enlightenment, and like a yawn or divorce, spreads like a contagion among those they are close with. I don't know why this is, but it might be prudent for those who may be weak in their faith not to associate with such people for their own self-preservation.

An Open Letter To Steve Skojec

*Note, I do not know Steve in real life, and have only corresponded with him by email as it related to my articles that were published by him when he ran One Peter Five. This is not a hit-piece but a letter of fraternal concern that I don't expect him to ever receive or respond to. It's mostly for my benefit to get it off my chest and for the benefit of the readers here.

Dear Steve,

Although I don't have a Twitter account, you are the only figure I follow on the platform. I find a good number of the things you post to be interesting, eclectic, and off the beaten path of usual commentary. I also appreciate that you have a skeptic's mind (though I imagine this may be a bit of a cross as well) and challenge existing narratives both inside and outside the Church by looking at things from other angles. I also check in on your Substack to get a different perspective on Church matters outside the tribal narrative.

There are times I want to comment and I have even entertained the idea of opening up a Twitter account to do so. But seeing the nature of the platform, and what it has done to a number of otherwise good and healthy, balanced people, I decided it wasn't worth the cost to one's psyche. My blog is really my only medium of communication these days. Which is why I'm writing here.

We are roughly around the same age, have probably been writing for the same amount of time, and came into the Church from different entrances and dealt with our own forms of trauma over the years. I admired your undertaking of starting 1P5, though I think I expressed to you by email a few years ago that it may be your personal undoing. I don't fault you for that--I wouldn't have wanted your job. I tried to contribute as I could with a handful of articles, because even if you weren't completely on board with the preservation of Catholic tradition near the end of your tenure, many people who read 1P5 were. It was an exciting time, but as often happens, there is always that threat of disillusionment in the end.

Truth be told, I always wanted to have a bourbon with you (I think I tried to put it out there to get together when I was in Phoenix last year, but you never responded), but you seemed to have a wall up where you were more comfortable behind a screen and kept a short list of IRL interactions. I don't fault you for that. I imagine you may be dealing with the fallout from your announcements in "Crippled Religion"  of distancing yourself from the Church and may be regarded in some circles as a social pariah. I'm not here to judge you. Part of me even saw this coming and wish I could have warned you in some way more than I did. Like a car crash happening in slow motion that you're powerless to stop.

I see you as a very intelligent, inquisitive, and self-reflective person. From my limited vantage point on Twitter and Facebook (when I was on it), there seems to be a wound somewhere deep that reflectively shoots down anyone trying to reach out and help and/or encourage you to keep the faith. In all honesty, with the number of followers you have, the curt responses don't surprise me. It can be tiresome to deal with the "You don't leave Jesus because of Judas" pat responses to what I'm sure you regard as a true crisis of faith and unbelief. It also comes from complete strangers on the internet, so the currency rate of the comments is proportionate. 

The one thing I think you are honest about is that you are no model of anything, whether in faith or life, that should be emulated. I'll concur with that, and there's some benefit there: we shouldn't be putting people on pedestals. I've been hurt a number of time by people I put stock in, only to see them lose faith or leave the Church or defect in other ways. Joseph Sciambra was one man who kind of broke my heart in that way, though I don't fault him for it. It is a tough time of battle for all of us, and we shouldn't be surprised by such things in the end. 

I found you to be adept at the things of life, but you seemed to have an arterial blockage to the heart with regards to the things of the spirit. It was as if you could only see the darker sides, the doubt, the human error, and it threatened to consume you. I kind of backed up at that point in the event the black hole bleeding out would swallow my own faith as well should I follow you any further. 

Though I found you to be an honest inquisitor, the lack of charity could be abrasive at times. You admitted to dealing with issues of anger in your life; that is not my issue, but I'm sure it's no peach to deal with. You tended to shoot people down, which I guess is just what you're forced into on platforms like Twitter and Facebook, in the interest of time. You wouldn't be alone or unique in that sense. I've also found you critical of things that other people hold close to them--the teachings of certain saints, for example. Again, it's your platform. I don't think anyone is holding you up as a model of faith or virtue. And I'm sure it's hard to divest yourself of the decades or belief and involvement in this kind of ecclesial community, both in person and online.  

I'm not going to offer platitudes with regards to the Church. I'm sure you've dealt with a lot of betrayal and deception that can be hard to walk back from. Maybe I don't have as much baggage as you, or maybe I'm just more naïve. My spiritual:human ratio can be skewed towards seeing behind the veil more these days, so I don't get as bogged down with the human error within the Church and outside of it. 

If I had any advice for you (not that you asked for it), it would just be used your new found time away from 1P5 to sit in Adoration before the Lord as a blank slate. I never got the impression from your writing or pronouncements that you spent solid time in prayer. Maybe I just wasn't seeing it, of course. But that never came through. You seem like you love your wife and care well for your family. I do pray for you that the fissure wound that may be keeping you from intimacy with the Lord in these ways is healed over time, and that you find your way. I think you're trying to figure it out at this point (aren't we all?). Being in the public eye can, I'm sure, be a tiresome thing. I hope you will take the time you need to find your footing and healing. I'd still love to have that bourbon sometime.

"Good Catholics"

 The difference between people who refer or have themselves referred to as "Good Catholics" and those known to be actual "good" Catholics? A good Catholic would have the assurance of never having to add such a qualifier if he was truly good, and would even take offense at it. Qualifiers in such instances are a means of rationalization.

"Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone."

(Mk 10:18)

"None is righteous, no, not one."

(Ps 53:1; Rom 3:10)

We Are Being Split Like Atoms

 Now that June is here, I'm reminded of God's supreme grace of giving us the privilege of being used. Because God is so great and so good and so loving and merciful beyond our comprehension, the most we can hope for is to be used "as a little pencil in his hand," as St. Mother Teresa said. What do I mean?

I'm currently writing from a motel room in New London, Connecticut. Four years ago, on June 15th, 2017, my friend Joseph Sciambra (who Christ ransomed from the ravages of the gay porn industry and a life of homosexual hedonism) was soliciting a call for volunteers to join him in the lion's den of San Francisco Pride--to reach out to the gay community to share the saving power of Christ so that he might "save some," as St. Paul writes (You can read my aftermath story of flying out to San Francisco and back in 24 hours and joining him in the lion's den of Pride if you want, here.)

Joseph is not your typical "preach to the gays" figure. As a man who left the gay lifestyle, he has some street cred. He also knows that he was truly ransomed from Hell (he recounts demons flying over his hospital bed as he was near death with the adverse health effects of his hardcore gay lifestyle) by Jesus Christ. He came back to the Catholic faith of his childhood. He gives credit to the traditional priests he found in the SSPX who gave him unfiltered Church teaching without pulling punches in a sea of California wonky 1970's Novus-Ordo-ism. He found in them the masculine archetype that had eluded him (and that he longed for) his entire life. And the Traditional Mass seemed like the last vestige hope of an ability to retain his faith which seemed all but corrupted by modernism.

To tragically complicate matters, he was also a victim (by his own admission) of sexual abuse as an adult at the hands of a traditional order. Though I don't know the details (Joseph is a friend whom I have met in person, but whom I have fallen out of touch with over the past year or so), I can speculate that he thought he had found some trustworthy spiritual guides who, in fact, were no better than the gay predators in the modern Church. Just different vestments.

Attorney Elizabeth Yore, an child-rights attorney who advocates for child victims of trafficking and sexual abuse deems such abuse at the hands of clergy "spiritual murder," which I do not think is too strong a term.  

Though I can not speak from the standpoint of abuse personally, from a purely psychological standpoint, it's  a perpetual cycle of suffering on two levels--when one steps foot into a church or attends Mass, they relive what they have gone through at the hands of clergy. And so the very person, place, and thing that can bring healing is tainted like a poisoned well which you suddenly cannot drink from. 

Secondly, beyond egregiously betraying trust, it warps ones sense of the Fatherhood of God, since priests--for better or worse--act in persona Christi though fallen, unworthy men themselves.  Many victims of clergy sexual abuse tragically commit suicide as an escape from the psychological and spiritual torture. 

As someone to whom Joseph is not simply a Catholic (though from what I have gathered he has left the Church for Eastern Orthodoxy) social media figure or champion, but rather a brother in Christ whom I have a somewhat personal relationship with, albeit from a distance, I feel I have a warrant, however weak, to write what I do here. 

I also do so because it piggy backs with the internet brushfire revolving around Steve Skojec's recent "Crippled Religion" critique of traditionalism as a kind of cult, and his own self-professed crisis of faith in the institutional Church (Though I do not know Steve as well, I have corresponded with him in the past and have written for his site One Peter Five). 

What these two men share in common is both laudable and a liability--they share publicly in a seemingly transparent and emotive manner, they produce content related to and revolving around traditional Catholic expressions of faith, and have established an identity related to the aforementioned. They also talk and write about things most people don't want to talk about. While the latest heterodoxy in the Vatican is old news by now (shocker) and little change on the horizon, both have shifted gears from what I have seen to a more personal airing of the problems not just within the institutional Church, but with the church (little c) herself; ie, the body members, and shifting to a lexicon of victimhood in their writings.

Again, I can't really fault them, at least not completely. What did Gandhi say? "I would be a Christian, if it weren't for Christians." Though it has not been my personal experience, I'm sure you would not have to look hard to find off-putting traditionalists obsessed with the length of one's skirt who make a past time of judging other's behavior at Mass. A caricature or stereotype? Maybe. But there is always some truth in stereotypes. As for the focus on their self-described victimization by both clergy and at the hands of those members within the church--those people that may be sitting next to you in the pew at Sunday Mass--well, here's what I'm seeing from my vantage point.

I was speaking with a friend on the phone this evening about my twenties--probably one of the most difficult and tumultuous periods of my life. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type 1 at the age of 23. Initially, I found solace in the diagnosis; it explained why I was the way I was, why I did the things I did; it was "not me, but the sin that lives in me."

But as someone who relishes in being 'special' and set apart, for a number of years I attached myself to the label of my mental illness--not as an excuse for bad behavior, but the lens with which I saw everything through. A kind of 'critical race theory' of the malaised-mind, if you will. It was kind of like a welfare trap--as someone who was 'mentally ill,' I explored the possibilities of going on disability (I had to take leave of absences from work due to my illness and hospitalizations, for one thing, and I wondered if I would ever be able to work full time as a result). Not much would be expected of me. I could live at home with my parents and volunteer, not do anything too stressful, take my seven or eight pills a day that would keep me in a catatonic state and out of jail. It also garnered a kind of sympathy, like a #metoo cancer of the mind. Mental illness was becoming somewhat mainstream in Hollywood with films like Silver Lining Playbook and A Beautiful Mind, and actors "coming out" as having this or that diagnosis to "break the stigma." 

But here's the rub--you can't be both sick and well. Diseases of the mind are complicated and the factors multi-faceted. Additionally, not everyone beats it. Some become consumed by the darkness and swim towards the light by way of suicide. Some never work and are truly disabled. My fate could have been written in either of these books. But it wasn't. I'm still not sure why, but I have to have faith there is a reason for it.

Victimhood--whether of one's own brain chemistry or events or external circumstances, makes a claim on your life and forces you to make a choice: will this be your focus and identity, the lens with which you view all of life? Or will you choose something different, something not pre-determined? How you respond, and how you fight to reclaim what has been taken from you--has real implications. What do you say to the 14 year old that was raped and became pregnant through no fault of her own who is considering abortion? How do you respond to the Iraq War veteran that says he wants to run a marathon even though he has no shins or feet? What are you going to tell someone who is thinking about leaving the Bride of Christ because of what they have suffered at Her hands?

A few nights ago I watched an absolutely humbling interview Matt Fradd did with an Irish guy my age whose sister was murdered on her wedding night when she walked in on two men burglarizing her room. To add insult to injury, the two men got off scot-free, where they were tried in a kangaroo court in Mauritius (where the murder took place). The young Irish man and his father had recently come back to their faith through the inspiration of his sister (a practicing Catholic), and they made the conscious decision not to be consumed by anger and revenge. They took Jesus at his word that they were to love their enemies and pray for them. He knew, by grace, that Christ had died for him, forgiven him, and that he has no warrant to lord unforgiveness over these lowlifes--they would be judged, as would he, for their sins. 

During the interview, the young man (Mattie was his name) was not bitter or angry; he exuded confidence in grace and profound gratitude for the gift of faith, and his ransoming from sin and death. Ireland has devolved into its pagan roots with breathtaking speed in the past decade or so, in large part from the massive betrayal of faith at the hands of the clergy. Like adolescent children, they have rejected it and thrown it back with a splash in the face of the Church. Yet this young man is like a latter-day Saint Patrick: working at the local level to revitalize the faith among the young; praying fervently and living out the beatitudes. He's just a normal guy like you and me. A victim, yes. But not just a victim. He knows grace and has been transfigured by it, and is now getting to work. 

In Dom Scupoli's seminal classic The Spiritual Combat, he cites distrust of self as the fundamental quality necessary to advance in the spiritual life. It comes before all else. And that is what I am seeing lacking in those who have latched on like a bulldog to the tempting chinese finger trap of victimhood. Perhaps it is difficult because of the gaslighting that can often happen to victims at the hands of abusers--they are encouraged to question and even doubt themselves or their experiences. And so when they emerge from those shackles, the tendency to completely trust their experiences as the pen ultimate lens in which everything is viewed comes on strong. If an abuser says to distrust yourself, then by God, I'm going to trust myself on this one.

But in the spiritual life, without a healthy distrust of self--of our motives, our loyalties, our misguided certainties--we cannot really die to ourselves in the way our Lord calls us, and we struggle to trust things outside of the lens of our own experience. In contrast, everything becomes about the self ad nauseum. If someone gives a healthy rebuff in a kind of charitable tough love, we recoil and lick our wounds and avoid them. If someone tries to push us to see past the things that keep one immobilized by our perceived dis-ability, we say they don't understand and are being insensitive to our plight.

Although I couldn't read it (because it was deemed an 'unsecure connection' online), Joseph's latest blog post on his site titled "The Latin Mass Will Not Save The Church" filled me with a kind of sadness just by the title. It one way he is right--the Latin Mass alone, or liturgy alone, or traditionalism alone will not save the Church. "Without charity, I am a resounding gong," the words of St. Paul come to mind. But as someone who has been edified by Tradition (capital T) and the Latin Mass, while not having any preconceptions that it is a cure all for anything, I felt it was more of a straw-man title argument. I'm not sure if others are making this argument--that the Latin Mass will save the Church--but I certainly am not. But it has given me tools in my toolbox, a strong community of charitable normal people--not a bunch of caricatures, but flesh-and-blood brethren. It has given us a strong foundation to build our faith on--not an unshakable one in its own right, but a liturgical cornerstone, with Christ as it's chief mason. 

My faith is stronger than ever, though I have been through some doozies the past few years that have shook me and put me close to the edge. In these times, I reflect on my wedding vows--when love fades, the will steps in to steer. And when the will shudders, grace has a way of surprising you. And grace, for it's part, has never failed to deliver. Mother Teresa spent twenty years without the loving consolation of the Savior she loves so dearly. She was a victim soul, but not a victim. She continued to exercise her will, to smile when she was barren inside. Was this "faking it?" Was it inauthentic, phony? I'd take offense at that. For her focus wasn't on herself, wasn't inward and self-ruminating and angry, but joyful and self-emptying. She kept the blinders on like a horse, and she kept it on the cross. This is how we persevere and the only thing left standing when the #metoo adulations fall by the wayside and fade into the distance. 

But Satan is working overtime these days. He is splitting us like atoms--from the root branches over Trump and COVID and now this and that scandal in the Church, tribalism, gossip, factionalism, uncharity, judgment, slander...among the members of THE BODY OF CHRIST! He will take the good down with the bad, and even more so. He will leverage doubt and that feeling of "finally, a chance to breath!" when we are sitting and vulnerable and lead us gently from the Way. To say "there is no choice but Christ" is not gaslighting or victim-shaming--it is the charity of a hungry brother who knows where the bread is and is sharing the news with everyone he knows. He should not be ashamed of the Gospel even more than St. Paul was not ashamed of the Gospel, and when he acts in charity and truth and real--not faux--compassion: he may just save your soul. 

I'm thinking of that young Irish guy in the pagan wasteland of Ireland. I'm thinking of the Mother Teresas, but also the moms who invite you to her kitchen table so you can cry on her shoulder over tea. I'm thinking of the brother who won't let you off the hook to be honest with your wife who you've cheated on. I'm thinking of those true, real, no BS Christians who have been fed and want to feed others. They have made it their work and their suffering to be saints, come hell or high water, indult or no indult, who have transfigured their crucifixions into resurrections and been healed by the blood of the true Victim who poured Himself out for us. They will not be gaslit. They will not be focused on themselves alone. They will love and do so in charity.

I know they are out there. I have met them, and they fortify me and give me hope--not token hope, and not a hope that can't be betrayed somehow down the line. They're not strawmen and they are not caricatures. They are flesh and blood brothers and sisters who are sticking it out and staking their claims on the promise. And the are not fools...unless you count them fools for Christ, which is a badge of honor. Though we are all as Catholics being splintered like a ship run aground with the in fighting and the fracturing and the distraction planted by Satan himself, these folks are the shards I find myself picking up on shore, piecing together, to form the life raft I hope to save my soul by, the souls of my family, and anyone else we can pull aboard. I will not give into anger. I will not be distracted. And I will be used.

"Is There Any Reason Why I Should Remain Catholic? Yes. Here's why:

 One Peter Five ran a piece today that a priest friend forwarded to me. It is written by an anonymous seminarian titled "Is There Any Reason Why I Should Remain Catholic?" He is leaving the seminary in disillusionment at the lack of faith and clear doctrinal teaching in the modern Church, and is self-admittedly bitter and resentful.

I find the people who care the most are sometimes the most vulnerable to this danger of--well, let's not mince words--apostasy. You literally almost have to wear blinders today, and not get too close to see "how the sausage is made" in the institutional Church to shield and preserve oneself from this phenomenon. As I recounted in "Like An Ox":

"The more I try to live for the Lord and try to surround myself with people who desire the same, the more I have come to see that trait of stubbornness less as a liability and more as an asset, when mobilized in a virtuous manner. In the coming days, the days of martyrdom, the would-be saint would do well to cultivate a kind of bull-headedness in regard to refusing to sin, refusing to relent in holiness, even under pressure and persecution. You have to be!"

I feel for this seminarian (the article is worth a read, if nothing else to take as a warning sign and having your eyes wide open), but I don't agree with his conclusion, mostly because I refuse to sign on to bitterness and resentfulness (not fruits of the Spirit), but hang my hat on the virtue of hope. 

But, pragmatically speaking, I have a few words and insights to offer in terms of avoiding this state of being, remaining in the Church, and joyfully so. 

First, as I told our men in bible study this morning--the future Church will be a remnant of it's past self, the shell of a cicada, almost unrecognizable to its former days of glory in years past. Benedict XVI foresaw this in his "small Church" proclamation in the 1960's. You have to realize that you will often stand alone, even in the Church itself, to remain faithful. And faithful you must be, to the very end, for the crown belongs only to those who persevere.

Speaking of perseverance, we must remember that perseverance is a grace, and one we must ask and pray for. If you are not praying, daily--and often in spite of, not because of, the state of the institutional Church--you will not receive it. Martydom of the self is not for wusses, and those who look back aren't worthy of it. You have to assume the bull-headedness of an ox...that despite the abuse, despite the lack of spine, despite the loss of faith, you WILL BELIEVE, and continue to do so until your last breath. 

Secondly, and this is one I try to practice myself--don't get too close to the sausage machine. Turn off Church Militant and other sensationalist media outlets addicted to bad news. Refuse to capitulate or be influenced by others lack of faith. If you realize you will stand alone, you will not be caught unawares when you are, since that is the norm, not the exception. Do not be surprised by a lack of faith in the larger Church, by cultural Catholics--our Lord and our Lady told us so. Trust their words. 

Finally, I could go on, but I'll end with this--don't worry about what others are doing: put the blinders on so all you see is the Cross in your line of vision. You don't change a marriage by working on the other person--you start with yourself. Cultivate virtue, pray daily (even when you have to grind it out), continue to attend Mass and receive the sacraments, teach your children, and yes, evangelize--but with a 'eyes wide open' mentality to the one you are speaking with. Don't sugar coat the crap like they do with those NFP posters. The Christian life is not for wimps; no easy street. This is the attraction, not the deterrent, because anything worth it's weight is hard and costs. 

I have two sons. Would I advise them to go into the priesthood? It's a tough one. God calls, we only respond. If they have the call, I would tell them to think long and hard, pray, and choose wisely. The diocesan seminaries are largely a wasteland, so I would try to steer them towards the FSSP or ICKSP. These seem to be the places where men are going in and coming out with their faith in tact, though they are not immune from the threats. 

Remember, when you stand at the Judgement, you stand alone. So you'd better work on yourself in this life, pray for grace, and have a heaping dose of humility and stubborn perseverance. Other's lack of faith--from the Pope on down--are not your concern. Be the remnant. Own your faith and live it out in spite of the filth. Respect the Chair, but don't put your trust in princes, especially princes of the Church. We need priests (no priests, no Church), but we need good ones who believe and are committed to doing what is necessary to save souls by God's grace in the Sacraments, not apostates and careerists. Only those with grit and bruised knuckles are going to make it out alive. 

The Church Will Hurt You

If there's any spectre that haunts me to my core, that fills me with a putrid horror and an unspeakable sadness, it is the act of apostasy.

Lucifer fell from Heaven, and he is working overtime to bring down as many people from the ladder of divine ascent with him as possible.

In "Apostasy And The Casualties Of War" I wrote:

"I was thinking about apostasy, the spectre that seems to hide in every closet, every corner, under every lampstand I encounter these days. The smell is nauseating and unnerving; it gets in your clothes like cigarette smoke. Faith in this age is under siege, and I'm not even talking about the collective faith of Catholics or Christians in America; in the heart of each and every man, his faith is under fire. Someone or something is seeking to wrench it from his being, cause him to lose heart or strip him of faith or consolation, hope and fortitude. My buddies and people I know are lying all around me, getting picked off by snipers, getting legs blown off, getting mowed down by machine guns, losing their souls one skipped prayer, one missed Mass, one self-justifying excuse, one innocent click at a time.  

Why do people abandon the Faith? Who will endure to the end? Is it just a matter of time before I join their ranks? Will I lose my children to the age? A friend of mine, a once faithful Catholic and family man, stopped going to Mass. Family members too. People experiencing loss and suffering, instead of doubling down and tying themselves to the mast, gradually stop praying altogether and simply drift away or run aground. For some it's a sin they can't let go of, or a past, or a trauma, or a hurt, or a betrayal, or seeing too much of how the sausage is made. For some it's the old question of why bad things happen to 'good people,' or why God would allow someone they love to suffer, or some earnest but unanswered prayers. I feel like the guys to my left and to my right and in front of me and behind me are just being shredded by machine gun fire, and whose to say I'm not next, my family, my children."

This evening I stumbled across a public post of a couple leaving the Catholic Church. As I read it, I picked up on a similar theme and common thread to the public posts of other Christian apostates. Joshua Harris--who wrote the best-seller "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" (which I read in college)--made a public announcement on his Instagram account:

"My heart is full of gratitude. I wish you could see all the messages people sent me after the announcement of my divorce. They are expressions of love though they are saddened or even strongly disapprove of the decision.⁣⁣ 

⁣⁣ I am learning that no group has the market cornered on grace. This week I’ve received grace from Christians, atheists, evangelicals, exvangelicals, straight people, LGBTQ people, and everyone in-between. Of course there have also been strong words of rebuke from religious people. While not always pleasant, I know they are seeking to love me. (There have also been spiteful, hateful comments that angered and hurt me.)⁣⁣ 

⁣⁣ The information that was left out of our announcement is that I have undergone a massive shift in regard to my faith in Jesus. The popular phrase for this is “deconstruction,” the biblical phrase is “falling away.” By all the measurements that I have for defining a Christian, I am not a Christian. Many people tell me that there is a different way to practice faith and I want to remain open to this, but I’m not there now.⁣⁣ 

⁣⁣ Martin Luther said that the entire life of believers should be repentance. There’s beauty in that sentiment regardless of your view of God. I have lived in repentance for the past several years—repenting of my self-righteousness, my fear-based approach to life, the teaching of my books, my views of women in the church, and my approach to parenting to name a few. But I specifically want to add to this list now: to the LGBTQ+ community, I want to say that I am sorry for the views that I taught in my books and as a pastor regarding sexuality. I regret standing against marriage equality, for not affirming you and your place in the church, and for any ways that my writing and speaking contributed to a culture of exclusion and bigotry. I hope you can forgive me.⁣⁣ 

⁣⁣ To my Christians friends, I am grateful for your prayers. Don’t take it personally if I don’t immediately return calls. I can’t join in your mourning. I don’t view this moment negatively. I feel very much alive, and awake, and surprisingly hopeful. I believe with my sister Julian that, “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”"

Another popular Christian band singer:

"I’ve been terrified to post this for a while-- but it feels like it’s time for me to be honest. "After growing up in a Christian home, being a pastor’s kid, playing and singing in a Christian band, and having the word ‘Christian’ in front of most of the things in my life — I am now finding that I no longer believe in God."

And a long time listener of a Christian radio ministry:

“Over many years I have been blessed to receive free tapes, CDs, and books from your ministry. Thank you. At those times, I really appreciated them. Now I no longer believe in the God of the Bible or in Jesus Christ. Ten years of full-time ministry proved to me that there is no God, and that the God of the Bible does not care. I now reject Christianity and have come to peace.

“What was at first a great loss has now turned to joy, peace, and freedom. I did not leave the faith because of some extreme sin. I left because the God of the Bible, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are all a fantasy. I’m happy I now live in the real world. I only feel guilt about the many people whom I led to Christ and exposed them to the lies of Christianity. I’m not mad at Christians; I’m not mad at you. However, I am mad at myself for not being a more critical thinker. I won’t make this mistake again.

“Again, thank you for the many years of help and teaching you all shared with me. I do appreciate what you all are trying to do with the knowledge you have. Please remove me from your mailing list. Save the money, don’t waste it on an apostate like me. I was just giving your CDs away. But now my conscience no longer can tolerate the further spread of a false hope and disappointment."


As someone who has had periods of having to fight tooth and nail to stay alive by my own hand during periods in which death seemed a welcome respite, I see a few things worth noting in the loss of faith (spiritual suicide) and the loss of life by one's own hand (actual suicide).

There comes a point when one considers leaving this world; when the pain, darkness, and tumult reach fever pitch--where everything becomes quiet and calm, like the eye of a hurricane. When the salesman of death shows up at the door with his offer, the fog kind of clears and a lucidity sets in. "I could really do this. All this could go away." Yes, he affirms, and hands you a razor blade. When the end is near, the light at the end of the tunnel comes into view, there's a kind of false peace and enchantment as one considers the possibilities of a world in which hurt no longer exists.

Of course it is all a lie. The Devil sells lemons. As soon as the check is cashed he is no where to be found. Until its times to collect the collateral, which is your soul.

But here's what happens and what it looks like:

"Stage 3 (the final stage) begins when the suicidal person makes the decision to suicide. The moment the decision is made, it goes “unconscious” and the person goes on what we call “auto-pilot.” People in Stage 3 are imminently lethal; however, they seem more “normal” than they have seemed in a long time. At this point, the depression seems to suddenly lift because the person has made the decision to die and is no longer wrestling with the decision. Unfortunately, most mental health professionals and family members are not trained to recognize “auto-pilot,” and they breathe a sigh of relief because their patient seems so much better, not realizing that he/she is on a collision course with suicide. People on “auto-pilot” typically attempt suicide within the next 48 hours. Be alert when a depressed patient who doesn’t seem to improve after months of intervention suddenly seems to get better. Instead of relaxing, we should become more vigilant when we see a sudden, overnight improvement. We should listen closely to any indication that the individual has decided to end their life and mobilize support among family, friends, and medical/behavioral health providers."

Like those in the wake of suicide--those badly shaken family and friends--the desire to know "Why?" is both overpowering and natural. We want a reason, to make sense of things, since we were robbed of that sense by a senseless act. The most unnerving thing, the existential Doubt, though, comes when we realize that sometimes, there is no reason, nothing to pin the tail on. This shakes us to our core. We build houses, take shelter, because we were not meant to live out of doors as civilized people. And suddenly we are in the great plains under expansive skies, with nary a blanket to shield us from Nature herself in all her terrible glory.

Whether or not one can point to this or that, one thing is undeniable: the Devil has gotten what he came for, what he exists for. He exists to draw men from the Way, the Truth, the Light. He throws a blanket of darkness over our shoulders and wraps us tightly. And he often disguises himself as an angel of light to do it so that we don't smell the sulfur.

Like divorce, or a metastasized cancer, the warning signs often come too late. Those "perfect couples" that seem to have it all together and then the next thing you know they are sharing their little "announcement" of parting ways.

What the hell is going on behind closed doors? Sometimes, its true--it's not a heinous sin, or a betrayal--it could be boredom, or a desire for something new, or just an unwillingness to try (to fight even!) anymore.

For anyone who gets news like this from close friends--of suicide, of divorce, of apostasy--it can shake you pretty good. Because, if them...why not you?

After all, they may have gone to church every Sunday, prayed together as a family, did "all the right things" and still find themselves as newly minted apostates (by their own admission) outside the Ark. But there is that false-lucidity: "My heart is full of gratitude," "I'm waking up to reality," "We've found peace," Etc.

I could understand if one was leaving a cult, the sense of relief. But the Church--the Bride of Christ--is not a cult.

In reading this particular public profession of leaving the Church that I had stumbled upon, someone made a comment and mentioned that the best piece of advice he had gotten as a new convert was a jarring, almost cryptic statement from a priest: "The Church Will Hurt You." As a new convert, I remember going to Mass in spite of those around me, not because of them. Not that I had anything against my fellow men, my fellow Catholics, but they weren't the raison d'etre. I think that perspective has helped shield me in some ways from disappointment and betrayal, because I always just kind of expected it.

Something else I think the Lord, in His Providence, shielded me from by slamming doors in my face, is never having worked for the Church. It wasn't for lack of trying. I got a Masters in Theology so I could serve the Church in some capacity. I applied for jobs in Youth Ministry--nada. Campus Ministry--"we've gone with someone else." Director of Faith Formation--thank you for your interest. I didn't even realize at the time what He was preserving me from, by grace. But it may have just saved by faith, by grace. I like sausage--then again, I don't work in a sausage factory.

The Church will hurt you. Whether you live in an intentional community, whether you're a Trad or a Charismatic, a Catholic or a Christian, a homeschooling parent of many and a picture perfect believer--you will at some point get disillusioned. "Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save." (Ps 146:3). You have to believe and fight for your belief with tooth and nail, you have to be a stubborn S.O.B., a dumb ox almost, a Rottweiler with a stick that refuses to let go. "It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in humans." (Ps 118:8)

It may very well be a mystery why people defect from the Ark while claiming they are so much happier and more at peace with their new lives and newly-affirming host of non-judgers. But there is no lasting peace apart from Christ. Divorce from the Bride--the Church--is a tragedy of eternal consequence. It shakes believers--the ones who have also been betrayed by such flagrant, self-assured apostasy--to the core, as much as good friends getting divorced after thirty years of marriage do. Satan is having his field day. He has been given the reins. The only thing you can do is tie yourself to that mast, and

Don't

Let

Go.

A Glutton And A Drunkard

"Heretics are unhappy men."

--St. Jerome

Once a month I have the privilege of visiting men at our local prison for two hours. I go by myself and pretty much have free reign, a set up I appreciate because it gives room and freedom for the Holy Spirit to set the agenda rather than having a scripted program. Because Christ is present in the Word, I find it typically suffices and is most beneficial to simply read scripture to the men, rather than giving any kind of "life lessons." I do take the opportunity,  if the Spirit leads,  to instruct on Catholic teaching using the particular scripture we are listening to that evening. For instance, when I started the book of Job, I spoke about trial and how God allows us to be tempted, about suffering and righteousness, and about counsel.

Last month I was reading from Romans chapter 5, where Paul speaks of Christ as the new Adam, when a couple of the men brought up the Trinity. I forget how it came up, but I used it as an opportunity to mention that Catholics do not believe in "sola scriptura" (Scripture alone). "We believe in One God in Three Persons, but the term 'trinity' never appears in the Bible. That is because the theology was developed over time and in the context of tradition to help explain this concept." But still, I told them, such a thing is a Christian mystery, and it is easy to slip into heretical explanations...even priests inadvertently do it in their homilies from time to time!

So, you have this complex and precarious idea of three persons in one God that we can use our reason to explain to a certain degree, but something that should also be appreciated and understood as a mystery that can never completely be comprehended by reason alone. This is faith and reason, will and grace, the humanity and divinity of Christ, feasting and fasting...these are the beautiful "both/ands" that marks Catholicism and which we hold and celebrate in healthy tension.

But sometimes tension can be hard to sustain, and we are faced with the temptation to veer harder in one direction or another. The will > grace. Piety > charity. Christ's divinity > Christ's humanity. Justice > mercy. And so on.

I've always been fascinated by the almost immediate cropping up of various heresies not only in the early Church, but throughout Her history, and how the Church has survived them all. Some were more pernicious than others and harder to stamp out; others were a 'close but no cigar' that drove home the importance of getting it right when it comes to Christology, soteriology, and ecclesiology. Two in particular come to mind that I think have something to teach us today: Donatism in the 4th century AD, and Jansenism in the 17th century AD.

Rather than retype a summary of the principal points of both heresies, I'll relate some background from Catholic Answers. Regarding Donatism:

"His predecessor, Majorinus, was elected as a rival bishop in Carthage because the bishops who had elected Caecilianus had dealt leniently with the traditores, men and women whose faith was compromised during Diocletian's brief but bloody persecution, initiated in February, 303. The Catholic Church was outlawed, and professing the Catholic faith was a crime punishable by death. Those who refused to offer incense to Roman idols were executed. Churches were razed, relics and sacred vessels were seized, and any copy of Scripture that could be found was burned.
The traditores were those who renounced Christ to avoid martyrdom or who, when their churches and houses were searched by the Roman authorities, handed over sacred artifacts rather than face death. In light of the many who endured martyrdom rather than renounce Christ, those who survived the persecution (which ended in 305) were outraged that priests and deacons who were traditores were allowed to resume their ministry after being reconciled to the Church through confession. This perceived injustice provoked a popular backlash with grave theological implications.
Majorinus and other leaders of this faction asserted that the sacraments were invalid, even wicked in the eyes of God, if dispensed by a traditor bishop, priest, or deacon. This view expanded to include clergy who were in a state of mortal sin of whatever sort.
By denying the intrinsic efficacy of the sacraments the Donatists claimed the sacraments could be celebrated validly only by those in the state of grace. They required the re-baptism of any Catholic who came over to their sect."

On Jansenism:

"In the wake of the Reformation, theologians turned much of their attention to the issue of grace and to reconciling the efficacy of grace with man's free will. One tradition, the Augustinian, saw the divine role in providing grace as primary and the human capacity to receive and act on grace as real but weak, owing to original sin. The newly-formed Society of Jesus put forth a more optimistic view. Summed up in the writings of Luis de Molina, this view ascribed a greater role to man's free will.
In the universities, where the Augustinian tradition was firmly rooted, there arose a movement against the new Jesuit ideas. Cornelius Otto Jansen, better known by the Latinized "Jansenius," rose to become the spearhead of the conflict. A professor at Louvain University in Belgium, Jansenius became convinced of the Augustinian position in 1619 and eight years later set out to produce a great work presenting the complete thought of Augustine on grace. He was appointed bishop of Ypres in 1636 and completed his work, Augustinus, shortly before his death in 1638. What we know of Jansen shows him to have been a thoroughly orthodox Catholic. Ironically, it is quite possible he would have recoiled at the heresy which was to be his namesake.
His multi-volume work covered the heresies of the Pelagians and semi-Pelagians, as understood by Augustine, and tried to connect Pelagianism, which overestimated man's role in his own salvation and was clearly heresy, with the teachings of Molina and the Jesuits. Though condemned by the Holy Office in 1641, a year after its publication, and again in Urban VIII's 1643 bull In Eminenti, and dismissed by many as nothing but a rehashing of the errors of the reformers, Jansenius's ideas as expressed in Augustinus gained a small but loyal following of Jansenists, who became known for the extreme moral rigorism which is today commonly connected with the name."

When we are living in an age of severely compromised prelates and clerics not in a state of grace, the Donatist heresy helps us to remember that the ex opere operato (by the work worked) nature of the sacraments do not depend on the work of the minister, but on Christ's work. The Jansenist heresy helps temper the rigorism that downplays the need for grace that is so easy to slip into when one starts to undertake practices such as fasting and various mortifications as a way to sanctification. We must never forget that we are helpless without grace.

And yet I don't think most people living uncritically in a post-modern 'meh' age today have the intellectual integrity or fortitude to challenge the doctrinal foundations of Catholicism outright. As a result, the dominant heresies of the immediate culture today are less based in the theological questions about the nature of God and Christ and more in a kind of relativistic cultural passivity, especially among the young. The term Moral Therapeutic Deism comes to mind to describe this phenomenon.

For those inside the Church seeking to change accepted traditional practice--laity and clergy alike--we see a push for a kind of 'relaxing' of doctrine and pastoral approach to issues such as divorce and remarriage, Communion for those living in a state of adultery, and backhanded acceptance of homosexual unions, among others. Charges of rigorism and legalism rise up in such factions when those concerned with the integrity of Church teaching raise the point.

From a practical and personal standpoint, it can be hard to navigate these various moral and theological dangers today when we are not grounded in prayer and the Holy Spirit. So, that's where I start. Always pray, every day. When you let that slide, you open yourself up to the potential to be lead astray. He who does not pray will certainly be damned (St. Alphonsus)

Secondly, strive for balance. Jesus had balance. He feasted and fasted. He picked grain on the Sabbath and still asserted that the slightest letter of the Law will never pass away. He instructed his followers to observe and do what the Pharisees tell them, but not to follow their example.

Thirdly, maintain a sense of humor, charity, and humility. Take to heart when you do fast to wash your face and anoint your head. Don't be grumpy. Give alms generously recognizing everything you have is on loan, and that you can truly encounter Christ in the poor person as much as you do when you receive Him in the Eucharist. Keep in mind the publican's disposition in the Temple, not raising his eyes but striking his breast saying "God be merciful to me a sinner."

Fourthly, be willing to live for Christ as much as you might be willing to die for him. Doctrine is important, and the martyrs went to their death rather than deny Catholic teaching. So don't downplay it. But keep it in it's proper context and don't clean the outside of the cup while neglecting the inside.

Finally, be ok with the tension of mystery. Don't try to figure everything out. Marvel and be awe inspired by the Incarnation, the Eucharist, the Trinity, and Creation itself. Mystery is what makes life worth living.

Don't be intellectually or morally lax, and don't be a rigorist unless Christ calls you to it. For most of us, we would do best to find a balance, always maintaining the integrity of teaching and tradition while making room for grace, forgiveness, and human frailty in how we live it out. We can't save ourselves. We need Christ. We need grace, mercy, and forgiveness. We need Our Lady to help lead us to Christ. We need the friendship of the saints, and the poor to remind us of our duty to the least among us. Fast when you feel called and when called for. Have a dance, and have a drink.  Remember your death, and remember to live.