Talk: "If It's Not Real Catholicism, To Hell With It"

 

I gave the following talk for the Archdiocese of Scranton's 11th Annual Men’s Conference this past Saturday in Wilkes Barre, PA. The men were solid and the event was well organized and attended, around 350 guys. The following is the transcript of my talk, which a number of people asked me to post, so here it is. 

“If It’s Not Real Catholicism, To Hell With It”

If anyone is familiar with the American Catholic writer Flannery O’Connor, they would be familiar with her famous quote, “If the Eucharist is just a symbol, then to hell with it.” Ms. O’Connor, as a Catholic living in the entrenched bible belt of the deep South, and writing her unique brand of dark “Southern Gothic” that was often lost (and sometimes seen as distasteful) on her audience, she occupied a niche space in the literary world of the mid-twentieth century. 

And yet her influence in the Catholic world both theologically and in literature has endured to this day along with the likes of Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, J.R.R. Tolkien and others. Why? Ms. O’Connor, who died of lupus at age 39, was an authentic Catholic whose vocation was found in the written word. She embraced that vocation with a dedication and purpose that dovetailed with the seriousness with which she approached the Christian life of discipleship. The themes she explored in her short stories–sin, grace, redemption–are universal themes which she explored with an incisive astuteness. In other words, only Flannery O’Connor could have written the words that Flannery O’Connor did because she embraced her vocation as both a writer and as a Catholic. For Flannery, the two were symbiotic and inseparable.

So why am I kicking off my talk at a men’s conference talking about a woman who lived almost a century ago, and a writer (when probably less than 1% of the general population are writers)? When I was drafting this talk (three days before the conference, since I was filling in for Brian Holdsworth at short notice), I knew I was a bit of a B-lister, rather than a headliner; an opener no one has heard of for the main band that everyone has paid good money to see. 

Although I have given talks to smaller audiences, a 400 man conference where I was expected to fill a 50 minute time slot is a first for me. But I think the reason I am here today is because the Holy Spirit has something to say, and I was the man He enlisted to say it. It could have been Brian. It could have been my friend Kevin Wells. These guys are varsity Catholics–faithful, insightful, smart and zealous. They love the Church and see the crisis more vividly than many. They have made it their vocation, like Flannery O’Connor, to speak the truth of the Faith in only a way Kevin Wells and Brian Holdsworth can. Sometimes it is irreverent, or shocking. But the point, as Kevin and Brian well know, is to wake your average pew-sitting Catholic from their slumber. By any means necessary.

And God does not do “accidents.” Brian is not here today because God had other plans for not only him and his family, but for you. Kevin is not here today because God needs him elsewhere. To quote some grandmother somewhere, “You get what you get, and you don’t get upset.” And that Providence is EXACTLY what God intended for you today.

Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade talks about this “abandonment to Divine Providence” as “the Sacrament of the Present Moment.” It’s one of the few times when a secular adage like “everything happens for a reason” actually dovetails with a Catholic understanding of the divine economy.

And I will tell you why in God’s perfect plan you ended up with a B-lister Catholic speaker (aka, me) today. And that is because the Holy Spirit will not be silenced. He needs to speak in silent groanings. And like Dr. Ian Malcolm in Jurassic Park observed, “life finds a way.” The Spirit MUST speak, because He will not be silenced. The Spirit finds a way.

In many respects I am not an ideal “first pick” speaker for a large men’s conference. I think with a right-side brain. I drive a Prius. I discern primarily through intuition rather than cold hard logic. 

Matt Walsh from the Daily Wire shot a documentary a couple years ago titled “What Is A Woman?” It was and is a fundamental question that can be, surprisingly, a hard one to answer. Is being a woman (or a man) a matter of biology? Of cultural expectations of how to act? Is a tomboy more girl or more boy? In many ways, the cultural gender confusion we are living through in the present age is a reflection of our inability to answer this one simple and fundamental question on which the whole of society hinges.

Although the character traits I mentioned earlier obviously do not disqualify me from being a man, there is an unspoken pressure to conform oneself to cultural standards. As comedian Dave Chappelle observed, “the hardest thing for anyone to do is go against their tribe.” Because the question “What is a man?” can be a nuanced one, there is a temptation to reduce it to the lowest common, universal denominator. And the result of that reduction is caricature. A man watches such and such sport. A man drives such and such vehicle. A man does not need other people (ie, a “one man wolfpack”).

There are some universal traits that we should aspire to as men: a sense of duty and sacrifice; an ability to defer gratification and eschew softness (‘mollis’--that is, yielding to touch); a desire to provide and protect. These are inherent traits based in nature and the divine order that are oriented towards the good, the complementary nature of men and women. But there is also a gradient or spectrum of how these traits manifest and are lived out from man to man. 

In the same way Flannery O’Connor was not your “typical” Catholic, not a caricature of what faith or belief is supposed to look like, there are men in the audience today who may be wondering how to answer that question “What is a man?” And more specifically, “What qualifies ME as one?”

Although I could extrapolate on that topic for the purposes of this talk I would like to instead focus on the question “What is a Catholic?” What makes someone a Catholic? And what does authentic Catholicism look like? Because as I’ve alluded to in the title of this talk, if you are not living an authentic Catholic life, you might as well say “to hell with it.”

Because we are exploring a fundamental question, let’s start with some fundamental assumptions concerning what makes a Catholic.

First, by our baptism, we are welcomed into the family of God. We are endowed with an indelible birthmark that can never be erased. We are marked men (and women) for God as His children. Although baptism by its nature confers grace and accomplishes this end even when it takes place outside a Catholic church (such as in a Protestant denomination, at a river, or even baptism by an atheist in times of war or emergency), a Catholic baptism is the welcoming into God’s family in His own house. The fundamentals are the same, but the character differs. Regardless, it is a prerequisite for Christian life.

In the early Church, many Christians would delay baptism til right before death because they took it so seriously, they didn’t want to mar the white garments of their freedom from Original Sin with personal sin. Today, obviously, people are baptized as infants even when their parents may not practice the faith. They at least have the spiritual good sense to recognize it as a good and not deprive their child of that sacramental grace.

We can point to political figures such as Joe BIden or Nancy Pelosi, whose public stances are at odds with Catholic teaching. Yet they are Catholics by nature of their baptism. They are only one good Confession away from coming back into communion with the Church. I may be signaling them out because of the public nature of their positions, but the fact is the percentage of baptized Catholics living contrary to their baptismal promises is high. And this is not only a scandal, but a perilous spiritual situation to find oneself in. Because they are leaning over the precipice of Hell without realizing what awaits them at the hour of their death.

So, Joe BIden, Nancy Pelosi and others living contrary to the Faith are still nonetheless Catholics (CINOs–Catholics in Name Only). Does this mean they are authentic Catholics? The evidence points to the contrary, despite the press’s insistence on President BIden being a “devout” Mass going Catholic.

The spiritual reality is that such Catholics not in a state of grace who approach the table of the Lord eat and drink condemnation upon themselves, as St. Paul warns.

I’m sure you have also heard of those who refer to themselves or others as “good Catholics.” This should be a bit of a red flag, for those who think themselves “good” are often “wise in their own eyes” as it says in Scripture, while those who recognize that “there is no good in me”  are often closer to the Kingdom of Heaven due to keeping their eyes lowered to the ground in humility and a recognition of their own sinfulness. It is part of the essential paradox that marks the Christian life, one that requires “eyes that see”--that one must die in order to live, serve rather than be served, forgive those who sin against us, etc. While the Our Father is a “complete protein,” a perfect prayer given to us by the Lord Himself, another one popular in the Jesus Prayer tradition of the Christian East is equally efficacious in its simplicity: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

This misguided mutation of authentic Catholic theology and spirituality reasons that “Good people go to Heaven” or, in another vein, that if we “do all the right things,” (serving on the parish council, volunteering with St. Vincent de Paul, participating in the KOC coat drive, going to Mass every Sunday, etc) we somehow merit or “earn” the “right” to reside there as well. When in fact, “no one is good, not one” as it says in Scripture, and that salvation is a matter of pure grace dependent on the mercy of God, not because of our merit. 

There is a third counterfeit form of Catholicism as well (and I should mention, all these scenarios have a grain of truth to them, but like all distortions of the truth, are not the full truth), and that is that of the so-called “cultural Catholic.” We often hear such Catholics justifying their positions by backing them up with “Well, I went to Catholic school from K-12” or “I went to Notre Dame/Fordham/Georgetown/insert CINO college here” or “My family is Irish Catholic, so…you know…” There is some residual value in the cultural traditions passed down via the various ethno-national branches of the Roman Catholic tree. The baptism scene in the movie The Godfather is a good example of this. 

But largely these things are artifacts of a bygone era, museum pieces that are meant to be admired rather than lived out. And this is because in the degenerate generation we live in, we cannot continue to drive the caravan of Catholicism on the fumes of an empty tank of cultural traditions devoid of authentic belief and practice. It is an impotent force against the hegemony of the cultural juggernaut  that makes victims of our children and erodes the roots of Christian culture cementing the dunes of society from washing into the sea. Cultural Catholicism is the cumbersome armor of Saul, when the particular demands of taking down Goliath depends on lightfootedness and the precision of a sling.

The scandal of Catholics professing the faith while living contrary to it; the self-righteousness of those who have the audacity to make a claim on Heaven’s throne because of their works; and the tired wheezing of riding the coattails of a cultural Catholicism that no longer exists in a post-Christian culture–these are three examples (among potential others) that miss the mark of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ today. 

In fact, I have found in my conversations with people regarding faith, belief and religion that I often refer to myself not as a Catholic, not as a Christian, but as a “disciple of Jesus Christ.” This feels like the most accurate way of describing what living the Catholic faith means to me and how it is the “whole armor of God” one dons when going to war with powers and principalities. Because of the scandal of the aforementioned Catholics, such a label has lost its meaning in the culture; indeed, even non-Catholic Christians are sometimes more bold and unapologetic in their witness despite not possessing the fullness of Truth, rightful authority, and the full quiver of sacramental grace. 

But by far the most deadly and abject state of being for a baptized Catholic today is given warning in the book of Revelation: “I wish you were hot or cold. But because you are lukewarm, I will vomit you from my mouth” (Rev 3:16). The violence of this rejection, this expulsion from the womb of God’s grace, is merited because God, in sending His only Son to die for our sins, is greeted with the most stinging of wounds–that of apathy. That God died for nothing, and that we yawn under the shower of the blood pouring from his pierced side on Calvary.  That we take this gift of life, the invitation to eternal life, for granted. 

As I may have mentioned earlier (or maybe it was in my speaker bio), I am a convert to the Catholic faith. I came into the Church when I was a freshman in college right before my nineteenth birthday. Though my father was a Byzantine Catholic and my mother an Episcopalian, my brothers and I were not raised with any faith. I never had the experience of being a cultural Catholic, going to Catholic school, or would have had any concept of what even constituted a “good” or “bad” Catholic. Although there were a lot of Catholics in my public high school, I did not know they were Catholic because nothing about their lives indicated that they were. They did not go to Mass. They did not speak about Jesus or their faith. They may have checked the “Catholic” box on a public census; but by all measures, they were baptized agnostics, a flaccid witness to what I would discover eventually to be a rich, vibrant, life giving faith that offers men the chance for redemption and salvation–which I was deeply in need of.

One of the hard things about becoming Catholic from a secular, hedonistic background was that the old man did not die easily. Like Augustine, my conversion was a “chastity, but not yet” scenario of steeling my nerve on the shores of continence to jump into the cold ocean of chaste and virtuous living, but having no one to imitate. I had come to belief and faith, but did not know how to act. Like St. James warns believers, I was a man “of two minds,” living between two worlds, trying to put new wine into old wineskins. The chasm between my old life and my new life in Christ was spreading and having one foot in each was simply putting pressure on my groin because I was reluctant to shed my old skin and take on the armor of Christ.  

I also did not know many faithful Catholics. I attended a Protestant bible study with good, faithful, solid men for six years because I couldn’t find a Catholic one that wasn’t at 10am on a Tuesday or some other time conducive to retired guys. I prayed a simple but sincere prayer in the spirit of St. Francis: “Lord, Send me some brothers.” And God answered that prayer by slowly, but steadily sending people into our lives that showed what a fruitful and authentic Catholic faith lived out looked like. 

And that’s the crux of the point I’m trying to get across to you today–heterodoxy, hypocrisy, and a benign cultural Catholicism is simply not sufficient to be a suitable witness in today’s world. I am a late Gen Xer, but Gen Z and Gen Alpha have an even stronger bs meter than my generation does. They can smell it from a mile away. On the flipside, however, is the fact that they respect and are attracted to authenticity. They also can be like spiritual “mystery shoppers” or “stealth applicants”--those who may discover the Catholic faith or Catholic teaching or witnesses by being fed it through their Youtube algorithm. It may begin with a curiosity, but can move into “gateway drug” territory where the more they learn about Catholicism and the more they witness people living out the faith in real time the more they are drawn to it, like a moth to the light. This is the work of grace, of the Holy Spirit of course; but it is also the work of evangelization, of men and women being salt and light in the world–of disciples of Jesus Christ drawing souls to Him like iron filaments to a magnet–slowly, quietly, and irresistibly. They do this not by playing a part, but being their authentic, unique selves with unique gifts and offering them for the sake of the kingdom.

We often outsource things to “experts.” My wife’s immigrant parents sent her and her siblings to Catholic school with the belief that they would be taught the faith there. This was in the late eighties and early nineties, a catechetical wasteland period in the Church which watered down the teachings of the Church in favor of social justice initiatives and “God is love” platitudes. My wife went to Catholic school for twelve years and never learned who Jesus was. 

The thing is, as a baptized Catholic sitting in this room today, you are given everything you need to not only live the Catholic faith, not only be sanctified by it, but to ascend to the heights of spiritual union with God and become a saint. That will not look the same for every man here, because you are all uniquely made in the image and likeness of God. But you were all made for holiness–it is your etiological end, the consummation of your experience as a man and human being. It is achievable not by your own efforts, but in cooperation with grace and aided by the sacraments. This is because God desires you to be saved, and will give you every means and tool to do so. Just as a chaste man is in control of his member–that is, strength through self-control, the man oriented to God is in possession of his reason and will and conforms them to God’s. The only thing preventing you from becoming a saint and leaving behind the snake skin of a tepid, lukewarm Catholicism is….you.

When Flannery O’Connor said, “If the Eucharist is only a symbol…to hell with it,” she was not being facetious, but uncovering a cultural reality with a poignant observation: there is no room for shells of realities, husk of the true–we must have meat, must dig for kernels in the midst of starvation. Anything less is dead weight and must be thrown overboard. Catholicism devoid of true faith and earnest belief is the lamest country club around. “Why do you call me Lord but do not do what I ask?” 

I realize, just as I mentioned earlier in this talk that there is not one mold or “type” of what makes a man, there are men present here today that are at different places in their faith journey. Some may be new converts, some may be cradle Catholics. For some the teachings of the faith are obvious, to others a revelation. Some may be coming back after years in the desert away from the sacraments, while some may be daily communicants and active members of their parish. But the fact remains that if you are taking time out of your busy schedules to attend a retreat like this on a Saturday in October, it’s not because you don’t have better things to do; it’s because you were moved to make the faith a priority in your life somehow. You want to be a better, more authentic Catholic and a more devoted disciple of Jesus Christ. You are ready for meat. 

I want to talk a little bit beyond the scope of “real” Catholicism and living an authentic Catholic life in general to hone in a little bit on the uniqueness of the male experience of faith. Because there is a degree of association with faith and religious practice with that of the female temperament–old ladies praying the rosary, or the women in scripture devoted to our Lord and serving him, or “church ladies” serving on the parish councils and various ministries in the church. Of course we know the life of faith and religious practice is not and should not be confined to female sensibilities–our Lord after all was a man, his disciples were men, heroic priests and religious throughout the centuries were men, and the Crusaders died defending Christendom from heretics were men. What happened to the Church? When did this shift take place that castrated the Church and effeminized it and turned otherwise willing men away from the practice of faith? When did the virility drain out through the grate?

The fallout from this is immeasurable. When the men go, they take everyone with them. Touchstone magazine years ago referenced a study that cited that when a father practices the Faith, it is much more effective in passing the Faith on to future generations than if a mother is faithful, or even if both parents are faithful. Men and fathers are the biggest influence when it comes to that transmission of faith through the family line.

Because of this fact, a few years ago I proposed a men’s group at our parish. In all honesty, I hadn’t had good experiences with men’s groups in the past, and my first article written for Crisis magazine a number of years ago went somewhat viral because it touched a nerve and a third rail. It was titled “Why Your Catholic Men’s Group Will Eventually Fold.” The basic premise was that men’s groups–necessary as they are, in my opinion–suffer from various universal deficiencies that make it hard to sustain a group long term. From needing a point person to lead, to the demands of work and family in one’s twenties and thirties, to lack of support from the parish, there are various challenges to having a successful men’s group that endures more than a year or two.

I called some guys from the parish together–some older, some younger, one of the deacons–and with the blessing of our pastor we had two informal meetings in which we hashed out a general idea of what we sought to accomplish. The “three legged stool” idea was that the once a month gathering should be limited in time (to respect family life and obligations), not require any kind of sign up or dues or bylaws or anything like that (so, informal or organic in nature), and appeal to male sensibilities–in other words, it should be founded on the three legs of prayer, formation, and fraternity. 

What it looked like when we started it a few years ago was that on the 4th Thursday of every month the church would be open for Exposition of the blessed sacrament. A man would lead the rosary during that time after 15 minutes or so of silent adoration, and men would take turns doing each mystery, so there was buy in and a sense of belonging and responsibility, no matter how seemingly insignificant. After that half hour to forty five minutes was up after Benediction, we would migrate to the basement for a talk on a topic relevant to our lives as Christian men–living the virtues, the lives of the saints, or some other theological or practical topic. Because our priest is stretched so thin, I didn’t want him to feel responsible for these talks, so I enlisted a different man each month to take up the challenge of choosing a topic and drafting a ten to fifteen minute talk to the guys. For some, this was an intimidating prospect, but the men took it seriously and there was buy-in and a sense of doing something challenging and uncomfortable. During the talk we would have wings or some other kind of food and beer and also non-alcoholic drinks. After the talk there is a fifteen minute period of discussion, and we then we wrap up. From start to finish, it’s an hour and a half once a month.

I have found that a few things help ensure the longevity of this enterprise, which consistently draws twenty to thirty guys each month. 

For one, consistency is important. Men know that on the 4th Thursday of every month, this is happening. I send a reminder email to those that put their name and email on a sign in sheet, but that’s about it. Because we are in the basement and men just kind of hear about it without any kind of formal advertising, I joke that it’s like Catholic Fight Club (without the fighting).

Secondly, there must be a value in coming. We ask guys to give up an hour and a half of their family time in the evening, so it better be worth their while. If nothing else, they get a solid period of prayer that they might not have otherwise, in the company of other men not ashamed to pray, then a meal and a good talk that challenges them to live out their faith and lead their families in virtue. It doesn’t ask men to sit around and share their feelings in a circle, or devolve into faux-masculine tropes of talking about sports or politics. We are focused on the fundamentals–prayer, fraternity, spiritual formation, in an informal setting. It is organic in the sense of coming from the bottom up, rather than the top down. The demands for the loose organizer (me) are minimal once it’s up and running–I supply the food with a coffee can for donations to cover cost, send a reminder email, solicit men to give the talks each month, and show up consistently.

Finally, it should not be complicated. KISS (keep it simple, silly), because men by nature are not especially complicated. The guys who come consistently appreciate that they know what to expect each month, that’s it's pretty much the same format from month to month, and there is no pressure to participate in discussion or get involved beyond just showing up. 

That’s it. It’s been relatively successful and gives men who may otherwise not have an opportunity for such fraternity the opportunity at the parish level. The more men can be formed into authentic witnesses to the faith, become stronger Christians and better husbands and fathers, the more I am convinced it is a necessary thing for the Church, and a small outlay of investment in exchange for big returns.

Because men especially appreciate tangible takeaways, what does it look like, practically speaking, to embrace authentic or “real” Catholicism? Like a kid going home from a birthday party that wouldn't be complete without some party favors, I’m going to send you on your way with a few suggestions that you can take or leave at your discretion:

Commit to 20 minutes of mental prayer a day. If you can’t do twenty, do 15. If you can’t do 15, do ten, and if you can’t do ten, do five to start. God gave his son’s life for you; your gift to Him is to give him your presence and you time. As St. Alphonus says, “He who prays will certainly be saved; he who does not pray is certainly damned.” You cannot live an authentic life of faith without prayer, and specifically, mental prayer. It is a non-negotiable. Because faith is a love affair, not an indentured servitude.

Speaking of prayer, pray specifically for a man, woman, or family to come into your life; or, if you are in a position to, be that man for others who are praying that “God send them some brothers.” As St. Paul says, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” As Catholics, we understand that we are working out our salvation in fear and trembling not as individuals only, but as a corporal body–that is, the body of Christ, the universal Church militant. No man is an island; no man is a one man wolfpack. We need each other, but it is also true that faithful Catholics can serve as “vetting agents” to distill the voices in the Church we should be listening to, and those we should be wary of. Those who walk before us trod down a path for others to follow. 

Make frequent use of the sacraments. They are the tools in your toolbelt, the spiritual artillery in your armory. God graciously bestows these gifts to us through the Church the way he fed the Israelites in the desert not only with manna from Heaven, but meat in the form of foul as well. A good rule of thumb is Confession once a month (I usually time this with the First Friday and First Saturday devotion); and at the very least, Mass every Sunday and Holy Day of obligation. Remember–it is a mortal sin to miss Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of obligation without a sufficient reason (such as illness). If you can get to a daily Mass a few times a week or more, even better. I signed up for a 11pm Holy Hour slot at our local perpetual adoration chapel once a week, which makes me accountable and helps ensure I make the effort to put in some more extended “highway miles” in with the Lord.

Make charity a part of your life of faith. Charity means love, and this can manifest in a variety of ways beyond the typical serving in a soup kitchen or other ministries. Love is work, and it is hard work. Christian love especially, is the caritas that doesn't simply love our neighbor, but our enemies; it does give one’s cloak, but one’s tunic as well; it takes a beating and then gets up off the mat and offers the other side of the face as well. 

Incorporate fasting into your spiritual life. This is beneficial spiritually, obviously, but also on a natural level. In doing so, we “beat our bodies” as St. Paul coaches us to do to bring them into submission so that we are not ruled by our appetites. 

It should go without saying, but if you are in a state of mortal sin, you have to address this as a spiritual emergency, the way you would a 25% APR credit card balance. Repent internally and confess your sins in the Sacrament of Confession. Make restitution and a firm amendment. Confession is more powerful than an exorcism, as Fr. Amorth says. If you fall, get up. If you fall again, get up again. Keep getting up and making recourse to the God who forgives not seven times, but seventy times seven. Eventually if you persevere you will overcome the vice that enslaves you, by God’s grace, even when He allows you to struggle with it in order to purify you as gold in the refiner’s fire. “The just man falls seven times and rises again”

Make a habit of reading the Scriptures or praying the Liturgy of the Hours, and other spiritual reading, including the Catechism to educate yourself about the faith. Stick to the classics. Many can be obtained digitally for free, as they are in the public domain. I sometimes just play the New Testament on CD in my car while I am driving so that it seeps into my bones like water percolating through the soil. “Ignorance of Scripture is Ignorance of Christ” as St. Jerome said. Don’t let the Protestants be the only ones who know the Bible (They don’t even have all the Books!).

Be faithful in little things first, and God will entrust you with bigger things once you have proven yourself. As Mother Teresa said, “Do small things with great love.” This especially applies to married men with how we treat our wives. One little thing I try to do is always give my wife the dinner plate I would prefer myself (e.g., the one with the bigger pork chop or whatever) as a small exercise in self-deference. This life is training in preparation for the next, and no athlete goes from the couch to being a marathon runner without the consistent work of training. We are pupils in the school of love.

This one is a bit unconventional, but it relates to a Buddhist non sequitur or koan (riddle): “If you see the Buddha, kill him.” The idea being that we need to put to death our idea of God so that the lived reality of God can be experienced. The idea that we are “good” people, or that we can serve idols while professing faith in Christ. We must choose the reality of Christ–the resurrected, in-the-flesh Lord–over the illusions of a cicada-shell faith. For even Satan can manifest himself as an angel of light. There is another saying in the East: “One must seek after Enlightenment the way a drowning man seeks after air.” We must ask God for the grace to remain faithful, to preserve to the end, to run the race well. He will supply this grace if we ask in sincerity and humility.

Finally, profess Christ with your lips, for “if you deny him before men, he will deny you before his Heavenly Father.” For too long Catholics have been sheepish about internationally sharing Christ, the Good News of the Gospel, and the life giving teachings of the Church with others. We have ceded ground to Evangelicals, Pentecostals, Mormons and others who capitalize on this defection of duty to slip in and usurp from the sheepfold. Do not underestimate the power of an encounter, a bold stance, a selfless act, a sacrificial prayer. For the life you touch may touch a thousand others, multiplying your talent hundreds of folds over. For all of us, whether they realize it or not, the decision to follow Christ and be wed to his Bride, the Church, is a matter of life and death. Choose life. 

I realize I’m not a big name in the Catholic speaker world or anything like that, definitely on the B-list, but I thankfully don’t really care much about that kind of stuff. I know I was brought here today, providentially at the last minute, because the Holy Spirit anoints the ruddy brother and likewise made this appointment happen because He had something to say and for whatever reason, I was the guy to deliver the message. Don’t shoot the messenger, but even if you do, I can take it because I have learned to take a beating–something we as Christian men and disciples should learn to do in a very nuts and bolts way. “The world hates you because it hated me first,” Christ says. “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you.” “Do not think something strange is happening when you experience all kinds of trials” (1 Peter). The dark times, the storm we are entering into as a society and as a Church is only able to be weathered when we have our eyes firmly fixed on Christ. When we take our eyes off him, even for a second, we begin to sink, like Peter did while walking towards Christ on the water. But we were made for these times, and there is no sense in wishing we lived in some other time or place. God put you here this Saturday for a reason. Don’t squander the opportunity He has given you to die with Him so that you might be raised with Him on the last day.

Acedia and Ennui: The Cousins of Mid-Life Manhood

 A few years ago I ran across a light-hearted little meme with a solidly truthful and existential nougat core. It’s a smiling little cartoon guy in a series of pictographic scenarios: Shop for a new tie. Make macaroni. Do Cardio.

[Don’t Let The Existential Dread Set In]

DON’T LET IT SET IN.

Vacuum the rug.

I still chuckle at it (uncomfortably) today. We live out our lives as Christians trying to synthesize the meaning of our life in Christ with the reality of suffering, the seeming futility of making meaningful change in the world, and the fact that we are going to die at some point. I’m not a fatalist nor a pessimist, but those moments of questioning what it is all for and what one’s life has amounted to will hit from time to time. I’d like to think I’m not the only one.

Perhaps this is coincidental with the post-Christmas season and turning forty-four in a few months. In reflecting on the life of our Savior, I think it gets overlooked for a lot of people that Christ began his public ministry at the age of thirty, and died at the age of thirty-three. He was, for all intents and purposes, in the prime of his life—peak manhood. And since there are no accidents in the spiritual economy, perhaps this is why the Father chose that period for his son, who was to be a choice offering, an unblemished lamb—a worthy sacrifice. It meant something because it cost everything.

The solution in the modern economy is to sidestep malaise, or hop over it. If one is anxious and looking for a way to address the root causes of their anxiety, they are often advised instead to pop a Xanax twice a day as if that was a solution. If we are uneasy with periods of boredom, there’s no shortage of food, phones, or content to distract us and get us out of that moment temporarily. 

Mid-life for men is a kind of predictable malaise that can’t be sidestepped or hopped over, however; you have to go through it on your way to old age, disease and death. It could have something to do with lowering testosterone levels. It could start in your late thirties or not hit until your early fifties. It’s not quite depression, though there can be some symptomatic overlap. It’s not quite doubt at the things we’ve committed ourselves to: marriage, family, faith, work. Mid-life seems to be its own unique thing, even when we’re not conscious we are experiencing it. 

That recalibration “halfway through the tunnel” can often play out in stereotypical ways: the Corvette, the affair, the career switch or the moving to a homestead in the country. But like the Xanax, these are the pills we pop to try to make the problem “go away.” Many men do not seem to even have the capacity for introspection, but instead (again, stereotypically) relegate this nebulous malaise to externals; to mansplain it, it is a matter of externals, a “problem to be solved.”

The Devil, to his credit, will not let any good crisis go to waste. And so he flanks our defenses from all exposed angles. He may plant the tares of doubt about our marriage vows, for one: Is your marriage really valid? Were you really in the right state of mind to make such a commitment? Does God really expect you to live the next forty years with the same woman? What if you just…left? Or he could capitalize on our boredom and general comfortability. You get the idea. 

In secular nomenclature, ennui is a kind of feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement. It seems to go hand in hand with mid-life for men and can be hard to put a finger on. In the spiritual life, acedia is a close spiritual relative—a kind of mental sloth or apathy which, ironically, strikes the solider of God often at the mid-life of the day (which is why it is sometimes referred to as the “Noonday Demon”). St. John Cassian, in his treatise from the Philokalia (“On The Eight Vices”) lays out both the diagnosis and the remedy for this form of spiritual attack,

"Our sixth struggle is against the demon of listlessness, who works hand in hand with the demon of dejection. This is a harsh, terrible demon, always attacking the monk, falling upon him at the sixth hour (mid-day), making him slack and fall of fear, inspiring him with hatred for his monastery, his fellow monks, for work of any kind, and even for the reading of Holy Scripture. He suggests to the monk that he should go elsewhere and that, if he does not, all his effort and time will be wasted. In addition to all this, tie produces in him at around the sixth hour a hunger such as he would not normally have after fasting for three days, or after a long journey or the heaviest labor. Then he makes him think that he will not be able to rid himself of this grievous sickness, except by sallying forth frequently to visit his brethren, ostensibly to help them and to tend them if they are unwell. When he cannot lead him astray in this manner, he puts him into the deepest sleep. In short, his attacks become stronger and more violent, and he cannot be beaten off except through prayer, through avoiding useless speech, through the study.”

For a monastic under a superior and a rule, the solution is simple: stay in your cell and fight your wayward nature by staying put and not abandoning your post. Not easy, but simple at least. Stay and fight.

Perhaps my mid-life malaise at the age of forty-four does have a spiritual taproot: Ennui driving the ‘Vette, with its spiritual cousin Acedia in the passenger seat coming along for the ride. St. John Cassian gives sound counsel for dealing with the latter, but the former in my opinion can be a tougher nut to crack; a kind of tension that needs to be uncomfortably sat with and stared down, or wrestled with the way Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord. To pay attention to that heart and meaning-shaped hole rather than going out to shop for a new tie or pumping some reps, while not staring so deep into the abyss that we are overtaken by it and fall in. Navel-gazing is a weak currency, but prayer for the Christian exacts change—even when it feels futile and even when it feels like those prayers eviscerate into the ether. 

Because we were hit with a storm recently, I had a small downed tree to deal with. I had no desire in this state of ennui-inspired apathy to do so, but forced myself to grab and axe and saw and get to work; it wasn’t going to move itself, and laying there in the yard seemed like a taunt. It seemed pointless and tiring to even think about, like everything else in my mind. Chopping a tree seemed as futile a distraction as cooking macaroni, or vacuuming the rug. 

After an hour or so of sweating and straining, though, I came in the house to find that Abba Moses, quoted in Cassian’s treatise, had it right: patience, prayer, and manual labor worked to dispel the noonday demon, at least for today. That doesn’t mean he won’t return, either tomorrow or next year when I’m forty-five. But at least for today, this patristic trifecta of armory was enough to help me find meaning enough to get up, get serious, and get to work.

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. 

It's Okay To Hug Your Son

 

I once had a conversation with a man with same-sex attraction (SSA) about his childhood. His parents were immigrants from Sicily; his father had a vineyard and worked hard. Like most men of his generation, he was the strong, silent type. He loved his son, but never showed it physically through any kind of affection or affirmation: no, "I love you's" or "I'm proud of you." It was clear as this man recounted his childhood that he has a deep and unfulfilled yearning for those things which were never received. 

It's not appropriate to put this man's decision to dive headlong into the gay lifestyle on the shoulder of his father, and there were probably other factors at play; but it seemed clear that the things he most wanted from his father that went unrequited he sought in the arms of male strangers in bathhouses and BDSM lairs. 

I grew up in an affectionate household. We're not Italian, so it wasn't loud and expressive necessarily; but my father was not stingy with displays of affection for my brothers and I. Hugs and talking (not just about the weather and external things) were common. My grandfather died when my dad was just getting ready to graduate college, so I think that left a deep and painful hole for him. My grandmother struggled with depression and my father was an only child. When my dad had his own children, it was clear we were the most important thing in his life, and he let us know it.

The "Silent Generation" had their own post-war ghosts and the trauma of the Great Depression to deal with; we all do the best we can under the circumstances. But we live in different times now. The Millennial dads I see seem to all pride themselves on taking an active role in their kid's lives. They unabashedly change diapers and help with housework (typically), and take their kids to playgrounds and such. They are "active dads." 

As a Gen X'er, I tend towards these things as well, but am a little more hands-off with my kids, though. One thing I do make a habit of, though, is hugging my sons (and daughter, of course) and telling them I love them, often. Maybe it's because of how I was raised by my dad, but it seems healthy to do so. I probably am lacking in the discipline and follow-through department (though we haven't spared the wooden spoon when they were younger), but they seem to be pretty well-adjusted. 

One of the things I hate most about the gay-everything lifestyle it has completely quashed the potential for healthy heterosexual fraternal displays of affection between men. Homosexuality makes a sexualized idol of the male ethos, a thing of fantasy and an object of desire. It makes it harder for heterosexual men to have a deep and abiding relationship with one another that isn't tainted with that gay specter that has made it's way like MSG into everything. 

But anyway, back to the title of this post. Yes, it's okay to hug your son. It's good and healthy. It's good to tell them you love them and are proud of them, even if you are the strong silent type; in fact, such words probably carry more weight if you are, since you might use your words sparingly and the ones you do use mean something, Probably one of the most painful things about losing a parent or a child is that you can't physically experience them anymore--the hug you might long for simply isn't possible anymore, and that can be felt acutely. 

So while your kids are still young (or even if they're older), go ahead and hug them. Tell them you love them. You never know how long they'll be around to experience it.

The Dignity Of Men

I'd like to solicit your prayers if I may; this Thursday is the first of a monthly series at our parish for men. Like men, it's not complicated: a half hour of adoration and rosary as a collective in the church, followed by a talk on one of the virtues in the basement with discussion and fraternity to follow over beer and wings. In my mind, it's a good formula: there is an active "doing" as a collective (adoration/rosary); there is a practical and tangible outcomes-focused objective (cultivating the virtues); and there is food and drink. 

I've always believed that when you build up men, you build up the family, and when you build up the family, you can begin to rebuild the Church. Surprisingly, we didn't have anything like this at our parish, so I proposed the idea first to a small group of men, then to our pastor, both of whom affirmed the need and supported the idea. I also feel a bit of pressure since it has the potential to be a big crowd, and I want it to be a worthwhile thing for all involved.

 What I like about this idea is that it's a low bar of entry: if you are a man, you can come--whether retired or teenager, blue collar or academic, single or married, trad or not, black or white, from the city or the suburbs. The Church is not, nor should it be, a country-club clique. She is Mother to all men.

My wife and I went to a mid-day holy hour last week while visiting New Orleans, and what struck me was that the half a dozen adorers in the church were all men. In the front pew, a young African American man sat motionless before the Lord; a few rows behind him, a Hispanic construction worker also prayed, with his head resting on his hands. To the left of him, a professional looking man in his thirties in a blue suit knelt before the Lord, presumably on his lunch break. All men, all different walks of life, all there for the same reason: to seek consolation and offer worship. 

This isn't some forced DEI exercise, but the natural response to a Lord who does not discriminate in his call. Neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, but all one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3:28). For the Lord does not see as men see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart (1 Sam 16:7). 

Men's ministry can be tough; it can sometimes play to caricatures, or as my friend Boniface calls it, engage in "man-pandering." Men have their own language and code, and you need to learn to speak to that in order to get buy-in as well as earn respect. 

But unlike women, men are not mysterious. Wives are often amazed to realize how uncomplicated it can be to please their husbands: feed him, satisfy him, and respect him. That should take care of 99% of the problems in your marriage. 

The universality of faith, expressed in Catholicism, is the glue that binds us as baptized believers. It isn't based on where you come from, your caste or color, your job or your personality.  St. Paul exemplifies this image of Christ by becoming "all things to all men" so that some might be saved (1 Cor 9:22). We have dignity as men because our dignity comes from Christ, the perfect man who died for all men. 

Do The Hard Thing

 "Suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning."

--Victor Frankl (neurologist, psychiatrist, philosopher, author, Holocaust survivor)

Wim Hof, colloquially known as "The Iceman," has climbed Mount Everest in shorts and sandals, run a half marathon barefoot in the Artic Circle, and been submerged in ice for almost two hours. But for the sixty-two year old Dutchman, these cold weather endurance feats are the least painful of what he has endured. “I can do it all," he notes "because compared to a grieving heart, it is nothing.”

His wife (who suffered from schizophrenia) took her life in 1995 by throwing herself from an eight story building, leaving Hof--a young father of four at the time--to pick up the pieces. Between the grief of losing the love of his life, and being forced to continue living and providing for his children, Hof had no consolation, no answers to deal with the pain and no recourse to relief. He was paralyzed with fear, gripped by anxiety, and swallowed up in emotional agony...and nothing alleviated it.

Until he disrobed and slipped into a freezing lake one Sunday morning.

While his body was gripped and paralyzed by the cold, his fear, grief, and anxiety melted away.

"Instead of being guided by my broken emotions, the cold water led me to stillness and gave my broken heart a chance to rest, restore, rehabilitate."

"The only thing that gave me peace," he recalls, "was the cold."

While I am not a devoted follower of the so-called "Hof method," I have been employing the relatively simple habit of turning my thermostat down in my house to 55 degrees, and taking cold showers every morning for the past few months. It is both the worst part of my day...and the best. The worst, because the shooting pain of ice water stinging your frigid body with no place to hide from it is akin to a mild form of torture. The best, because it did not kill me and I live to see another day.

The author Natalie Goldberg, when she was going through a divorce, approached her roshi (Zen master) and asked him, "Roshi, will I get used to loneliness?"

"No, you don't get used to it," he said, "I take a cold shower every morning and every morning it shocks me, but I continue to stand up in the shower. Loneliness always has a bite, but learn to stand up in it and not be tossed away."

The jury is still out in the scientific community as to the verifiable health benefits of cold therapy and ice baths. Anecdotally, I feel more alert, more alive, and suspect that there are more endorphins flowing through my body after emerging from the shower.

But there is something else, though, beyond the positive physiological effects.

I know the emotional agony and sense of darkness Hof experienced when he lost his wife. But in my case, I was the one standing on the proverbial ledge eight stories up, unable to find a way to escape. The moral guardrail of my religious faith restrained my desire to meet the same fate as Hof's wife, to escape a jet-black depression that seemed like it would never end. In the darkest clutches of depression, the things that would most benefit mental wellbeing--exercise, friends and family, prayer--are the most aversive.

But what if we could will our bodies away from atrophy--doing the exact hard thing we have no desire to do?

If we are convinced we can't survive two minutes in an icy lake, and we jump in anyway, what do we have to lose if we want to die in that moment anyway? If we die, we obtain the wish of our distorted mind. But if we come out of the experience, panting and shivering but very much alive and with a new lease on life...what if that was the spark needed to ignite the will to live again?

Indeed, in the city of Yukutsk, Siberia--the coldest city in the world--men routinely remove their clothes when it is minus 50 degrees Farhenheit to take ice baths outside. Their bodies are acclimated to the cold, and they rarely get sick. And in Russia and Ukraine, the Orthodox faithful celebrate the Feast of Ephiphany in January by plunging into icy lakes. "Epiphany is purification," one congregant of the ritual observes, "My soul is cleansed and I'm charged with a good mood for the whole year ahead."

There is no denying that Hof has attained a level of physical transcendence of the limitations of the body by the power of the mind that is remarkable. But he maintains that he is not unique, and that anyone can push themselves farther than they thought possible and gain mental clarity and emotional control, simply by doing the harder thing.

"As humanity has evolved and developed ways to make our lives more and more comfortable, we have lost our ability not only to survive but to thrive in extreme environments," the Iceman notes. "The things we have built to make our lives easier have actually made us weaker."

Though I'm still soft in a lot of ways, I've grown to love my morning cold shower. I mean, I hate it. But I love it. Every time I step into the stall, I know what is waiting for me: cold, hard pain. And every time I turn the shower handle as far to the right as it will go and pull it back, there is a part of me that feels like I am going to die as soon as those thousands of icy needles fly the wall and strike my naked torso.

But then, I don't. I yelp, and curse, and cry a little. But I don't die. A few minutes, and it's over. I'm still here. I continue to stand up. And I will not be tossed away.

How Not To Be Soft

 Now that winter is peeking it's frosty head around the corner, I am going into full-on dad mode. Some of it is playing the part, some of it is for our bills, and some of it is because there really is a tough-love part of me that does not want my family (or myself) getting too soft. 

There's a strain of this kind of neo-Stoicism on the internet in the wake of influencers like Jordan Peterson ("make your damn bed!") and Pete Adeney (aka, Mr. Money Mustache). The idea is basically that Doing The Hard Thing is something to be pursued, not shirked, as it is beneficially for you on multiple levels. There is truth in the saying: 

Hard times makes strong men; 

strong men make good times; 

good times create weak men.

But here's the thing--as Catholics, we are not Stoics in the classical sense; we don't do the hard thing for the sake of doing the hard thing. We can pursue the difficult path without being masochists, and have some balance and purpose in this undertaking for not only our spiritual, but our coroporal benefit. But nothing is wasted in the spiritual economy. This is why we do penance in this life--for our own souls to make restitution now rather than later, and for the benefit of those suffering in purgatory.

I was thinking about this idea of how having a more ascetical mindset is good preparation for an uncertain future. It takes some 'training' or practice, so to speak, but can also have residual practical benefits. Four areas in particular that came to mind:

Body temperature

Human beings are warm-blooded creatures, so we need to maintain a certain range of internal temperature. However, the human body also has an amazing ability to adapt and acclimate to changes in the immediate environment (within reason). 

Part of the reason I keep the heat low in our house is because we have very expensive (at least this season) fuel oil as our source. Thankfully, my wife is a true team player and doesn't give me too much grief about it; our kids also seem to be hot-blooded, so they are not suffering unduly. 

It's always a little harder in the beginning of the heating season but once we acclimate, stepping into someone's home who keeps it at 70 degrees F or above feels like a sauna. I wouldn't say we're completely comfortable in our house, and we make a point to wear warm socks, sweaters, etc. People act as if this is a major hardship, but really it's just thermodynamic common sense: heat the person, not the space. And since when did being perpetually comfortable become the be all end all?

I still take cold showers, even in winter. I know that is somewhat extreme, (and part of it is simply because it takes forever for the hot water to get to the showerhead in our upstairs bedroom) but there are some health benefits (as people who do icebath plunges realize) and it definitely wakes you up in the morning and makes you more alert. It's uncomfortable. I offer it up. Ironically, it also makes it easier to step out of the shower into a coldish room, since the delta is not as high. 

House size

I have a bit of a minimalist mindset. Part of this is for the preservation of mental health--more "stuff" equals more clutter, which translates to seemingly more anxiety. We are in a Goldilocks situation with our current house--for our family, it is neither too small nor too big, but feels just right in terms of square footage. 

It's ironic, too, that in our area at least, many of the large houses correspond with less children, and many of the large families we know have small to medium sized houses. 

There is probably a happy medium, but I also think it's worth pointing out that for many people, "the stuff fills the space." That is, if you are in a 1,500 square foot home and you upgrade to a 3,000 square foot home, you simply accumulate more things (furniture, accoutrements, etc) to fill in the difference. 

There's nothing more or less noble about living in a smaller space, and there are practical concerns when a family is on top of each other and may be able to benefit from an extra bedroom or a basement. But for the most part, extra space is often a luxury, rather than a necessity, since most families with smaller houses just make it work with bunk beds, multi-use rooms, space saving devices, etc. So, a "bigger house" may or may not be a necessity, depending on your circumstances. And getting rid of junk and clutter can be freeing as well, which may allow you to free up space in your existing house.

Salary and spending

Like housing size, there is a happy medium in terms of salary. I have heard $85,000/yr household income is the 'sweet spot' where basic needs can be met but additional income does not necessarily make one "happier." As Solomon says, "Give me neither riches nor poverty" (Prov 30:8). This is the ideal, but we don't live in an ideal world, and families don't always experience ideal circumstances.

Also like housing size, we tend to "fill the space" with increased spending as salary increases. What were once "wants" now become "needs." This is why so many athletes and celebrities go broke, because they cannot sustain their lifestyles after their careers plateau. It's good to learn how to live on one income, even if both spouses are working, to give a financial cushion for the unexpected and emergencies. To the extent you over-leverage your budgetary margin call, it puts you in a stressful and precarious financial situation that may even make you less happy despite having a higher salary.  The common sense approach is to live within your means: spend, save, invest, and give proportionally. But if you can learn to live on less, you are training yourself better for lean times, even if you have a lot of financial "fat" in your budget currently.

Fasting

Fasting is a good practice for spiritual and physical health. It can be as simple as skipping a meal a few times a week, or not snacking. To the three points above, there is also a tendency for our stomachs to expand the more we eat, so that it takes more food for us to feel full when we overeat beyond what is necessary to our bodies. 

When we limit caloric intake, our stomach shrinks a bit in response, and our baseline of what is needed to sustain ourselves is lowered as well. We can offer up our fasting for the conversion of sinners, for our own selves, or some intention. We can also train our bodies in this way to "do without" when traveling or faced with hard times so that we are not ruled by our stomach. 

Fasting can also be beyond food--like phone/technology fasts, for instance. It's just good to do to work on breaking this dependency...but it is very hard!

All in all, things like exercising, chopping wood, working hard, delaying gratification, and suffering a little helps us not be such butterballs, especially as men. There is a kind of effeminacy in needing to be perpetually comfortable. But we should have balance in all things. Weightlifters know that you get stronger by pushing your muscles beyond their baseline, but then allowing for them to recover as well. These are just four points I was thinking of the other day, there may be more. Feel free to comment to continue the conversation!

Letter To Boniface

Boniface,

I hope it's ok I write to you--not related to writing or Catholicism directly, but just as one early-forties Catholic guy to another. I don't know why I thought you might be able to relate or understand, but taking a chance you might.

By the way, I read the Matt Foley piece you had on USC, and it almost moved me to tears as well. I grew up in the nineties on SNL in it's heyday and loved Chris Farley and had a soft-spot for him, but mostly it touched me because of the gritty struggle; addiction is such a tenacious mf; having a 25 year nicotine addiction myself, which I just recently stopped cold turkey a month ago (not the first time, but hopefully the last), I know that feeling of shame, dejection, and feeling like maybe you're never really in the clear. I have always recognized how dependent I am on grace, and take to heart the words of St. Paul to the Corinthians, "take heed, lest you fall." I come from a sinful past, not the grittiest but not the prettiest either; in any case, it doesn't matter much how it compares to others. We are all slaves bought with blood, ransomed when we had no power to lift ourselves from the miry well we had fallen in.

One thing I have been struggling with is a bubbling over, frothing disgust almost which lately the devil seems to be capitalizing on. Beneath the surface, I think, is disappointment--feeling like no matter what I do in the faith, my kids will cede to the culture and apostatize. That no matter how lonely I am in my faith walk, no amount of friendships will plug that hole (which is reserved for God alone). And even just the disappointment with my men's group, and how my expectations for things that last are maybe the cause, when in most cases they just can't sustain themselves over the years and fade away. I have a very Augustinian heart, and find that even as my faith and prayer life is deepening, that my disgust with the world and the things in it has been increasing. I find myself wearied by life, and praying for a swift and early death.

But, I cannot hate my brother(s) and still love God, as scripture says; for I would be a liar. I feel in my bones this tension of needing community, social things, being able to lean on people, and being disgusted with this need, seeing it as a kind of weakness. And yet, solitude which may be deepening for my prayer life and faith, is hard to bear for long periods of time. In this limbo, there's tension rather than peace, like I'm on a kind of rack where my limbs get stretched til they pop their sockets. 

Part of that disgust bleeds over into my own trad circle--a kind of self-righteousness and insularity that doesn't go outside itself. I find I have this calling, it seems, to do the corporal as well as the spiritual works of mercy, as it is what we will be judged on (our charity): feeding the poor, clothing the naked, visiting the sick. I used to do all these things as a "normie" Catholic (I have been trying to get back to the prison where I ministered to inmates, but the prison used COVID as an excuse to continue to close things down to visitors), and yet I see none of this intentionally spoken about or prioritized by the traditionalists in my circle. Maybe they do, and I just don't see it. But I'm afraid of how I will be sentenced at the judgment for my resting on the "well, trads don't do that stuff, that's for SJW normie Catholics, we pray our rosary and attend the TLM which is more efficacious" mentality. 

When I think of my judgment, in fact, I shudder, and I'm not even being dramatic. I'm doing all the "right things"--daily rosary, half hour mental prayer a day, First Friday/First Saturday, Mass, adoration, spiritual reading, etc. And yet I know that kind of perfection of the saints is a long way off due to my selfish nature, unwillingness to suffer, lack of charity to my neighbor, self-love, sins of the tongue, etc. I have no hope but by grace, and I'm not even joking. 

I am so incredibly lonely, despite the fact that I have lots of friends and a great wife and family. I realize, too, I don't really have the grounds to complain about being lonely either given all that. But there's just something gnawing at me, a kind of sadness at this constant liminality of the relationships I do have. I have been hoping this longing would lead me into a greater depth of prayer, but again, it foments into disgust with the world, and yet lacking the sweet consolation of the spiritual. I just have this tension, and sense of loss, and disgust with myself and the fact that what I want from others I can't even actualize in myself for their sake--that is, selflessness, and being there for others when they most need it.

I realize my disposition is more of a female nature--again, it goes back to this disgust at this seeming need to have connection with other people, to share deeply, to love and be loved fraternally...and yet for most of the guys I interact with, this just isn't a thing or a need for them. Most are content to just work and be with their families, and I should be too as a man. But I'm not, for whatever reason. Maybe that longing for the things that will never be in this world is what keeps pushing us closer to God, who can and does satisfy these unfillable longings, and THAT is their purpose. I can't connect with women (because it's not appropriate to my state in life) and I can't connect with men (because of this deficiency in need) and so I try to connect with God in this deep, strange sadness and it's just...silence. The dark silent host that doesn't speak, doesn't affirm, but just IS.

I've gone on long enough. Apologies in advance for laying this on you. I just thought maybe you might understand some of this "wrestling with the angel" and having your hip popped out of socket. 

God bless you, and take care.

R

Sex Is The Snare

A Commentary on Proverbs 7, on my twelfth wedding anniversary.

 [1] My son, keep my words, and lay up my precepts with thee. Son, [2] Keep my commandments, and thou shalt live: and my law as the apple of thy eye: [3] Bind it upon thy fingers, write it upon the tables of thy heart. [4] Say to wisdom: Thou art my sister: and call prudence thy friend, [5] That she may keep thee from the woman that is not thine, and from the stranger who sweeteneth her words.

Notice the "who" and the "what" in v 1-5. An elder is giving exhortation to a younger. He has traveled longer, farther, and seen the end and where it leads. Like a seasoned scout, he admonishes the younger to "keep my words." Notice the "what" as well. What should be the "apple of one's eye?" This is typically a moniker for one's beloved. But what should be the apple of one's eye? Their spouse? No, "my law." It is wisdom which should be one's first love, the captivator--not as a lover here, but as a sister. Of the wife: "may her breasts satisfy you always, may you ever be intoxicated with her love" (Prov 5:19). But like a sister, "wisdom is sweet to the soul" (Prov 24:14). 

[6] For I look out of the window of my house through the lattice, [7] And I see little ones, I behold a foolish young man, [8] Who passeth through the street by the corner, and goeth nigh the way of her house. [9] In the dark, when it grows late, in the darkness and obscurity of the night, [10] And behold a woman meeteth him in harlot's attire prepared to deceive souls; talkative and wandering,

Married lovers can communicate, after a number of years, with wordless words. They speak with deft gestures, looks, and the silence of what is not said. A fool, on the other hand, multiplies words (Ecc 10:14). The woman here, provocatively dressing her line as a fisherman ties his lure to bait ignorant fish, is "talkative," multiplying her words. She has "her [own] house," and yet is out looking to "deceive" by being out and about, "wandering." The young man's first mistake was "going nigh the way of her house." And not during the day, when there is accountability and witnesses in bystanders, but under cloak of night, "when it grows late."

The foolish harlot uses her many words to capture the hearts and loins of the young men, because she cannot stand silence, or staying put. The dutiful wife speaks to her beloved's heart in silence, as the years go on in their marriage, because words become extraneous and unnecessary in this communion. In contrast, the harlot hasn't the peace of silence, and is instead agitated by it. She is like a gyrovague, "who spend their entire lives drifting from region to region, staying as guests for three or four days in different monasteries. Always on the move, they never settle down, and are slaves to their own wills and gross appetites." (Rule of St. Benedict, Ch 1:10-11). 

[11] Not bearing to be quiet, not able to abide still at home, [12] Now abroad, now in the streets, now lying in wait near the corners. [13] And catching the young man, she kisseth him, and with an impudent face, flattereth, saying: [14] I vowed victims for prosperity, this day I have paid my vows. [15] Therefore I am come out to meet thee, desirous to see thee, and I have found thee.

The trap of adultery is the bait set in the jaws of narcissism. For even for young lovers, their love is full of ego--they love to be loved. As married couples age, they realize this intoxication of "falling in love" is a lure of the Lord, for were they to know the difficulties of the road and years ahead, they may never have married. "Lord, you tricked me, and I was tricked. You overpowered me and won" (Jer 20:7). 

And so the wayward woman sharpens and weaponizes the irons of her words, nuget covered barbs, but not before "catching" the young man and making him drunk with the tantalizing kiss which promises "more where that came from." She disarms his reason with a flaming arrow of what would normally be reserved for the altar. She even entices with a play on words, "vowing victims for prosperity...paying my vows." Were he not disarmed by a kiss, he may have remembered his own vows, but she has gone on the cunning offensive before he has a chance. 

See, too, the bait of narcissism. "You have come out to meet ME? Desirous to see ME? Found ME?" The young man is suddenly a willful object of desire, in his mind. Flattery baits the trap, for "pleasant words are a honeycomb" (Prov 16:24). 

[16] I have woven my bed with cords, I have covered it with painted tapestry, brought from Egypt. [17] I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. [18] Come, let us be inebriated with the breasts, and let us enjoy the desired embraces, till the day appear. [19] For my husband is not at home, he is gone a very long journey. [20] He took with him a bag of money: he will return home the day of the full moon.

The words continue, now painting pictures of enticement in the mind of the brute. His mind is enthralled with the details of fantasy: "a woven bed, painted tapestry, perfumed." In his body, he is enraptured by her arms and mired in her kiss, but in his mind, he is transported beyond the streets to a exotic country, an intimate foreign chamber devoid of witnesses. For "even her husband is not home," and even the day of his return is set, "the day of the full moon" to allay the anxiety of an unexpected discovery. He is given a set window of opportunity, and he can't believe his fortune. A marathon of night-long inebriated passion. At this point, not only his mind swells with the opportunistic prospect. 

[21] She entangled him with many words, and drew him away with the flattery of her lips. [22] Immediately he followeth her as an ox led to be a victim, and as a lamb playing the wanton, and not knowing that he is drawn like a fool to bonds, [23] Till the arrow pierce his liver: as if a bird should make haste to the snare, and knoweth not that his life is in danger. [24] Now therefore, my son, hear me, and attend to the words of my mouth. [25] Let not thy mind be drawn away in her ways: neither be thou deceived with her paths.

Many words. Flattery. "Deceived by the flattery of fools" (Ecc 7:5). "Immediately" he follows her, his reason bludgeoned, any potential protest muzzled. He begins to be led like an ox to slaughter, captivated as Peter, Andrew, James, John, and Matthew were captivated and as in a trance, followed Christ to their ultimate death. "Immediately, they left the ship with their father, and followed him" (Mt 4:22). And yet it is not wisdom, or grace, or the precepts of the Lord that draw the young man away as his father's words recede in the background of his mind, but desire, inpropriety...the flesh. 

[26] For she hath cast down many wounded, and the strongest have been slain by her. [27] Her house is the way to hell, reaching even to the inner chambers of death.

But unlike the disciples--the followers of Christ who were led from their earthly ties and died for gain--the young victim is led to his spiritual deathbed by the earthly, the temporal, the honey-soaked poison, never to rise again. "The mighty are cast from their thrones" (Lk 1:52). And here the harlot, the temptor casts down the wounded--wounded reason, wounded conviction, wounded temperance. She has wounded virtue and sound mind with her arrows, "piercing his liver" like a bird. He joins the army of corpses, among them even "the strongest." For strength is impotent before desire, for desire disarms and dethrones a man from within. In the post-coital bed, the sheer drapes of fantasy dissolve and the "house, the inner chamber" which brought him here has become his prison, his hell, his death. 

"For as wisdom is a defence, so money is a defence : but learning and wisdom excel in this, that they give life to him that possesseth them" 

(Ecc 7:12)

Do Men Need Other Men?

Every now and then I will hear a story of an old lady who lives alone who passes away. Sometimes it is days or weeks before the super gets wind of it or anyone notices, and when they open the apartment, it's a dreadful smell of weeks-old death. I hate hearing stories like this, and yet I think it's more common than we think. 

I'll confess to feeling a bit of resentment sometimes when my mind gets to speculating. I feel like I'm always checking in with people, but people rarely check in with me. Aside from my family, if I passed away in my room, how long before anyone would notice?

 One of my personal Achilles' Heel is being a relational person. Whereas most Catholic men are content to just be with their families and go to work, I feel I benefit from outside relationships. This often makes me feel like a defective archetype, a "less-than" man, and a shameful weakness. It's not normal to be like this. It's kind of womanly.

There was a helpful article I came across in Catholic Exchange on this topic. I'll quote a bit of it, as the author and I seem to be on the same frustrated page:

“Do men, Catholic men, need the support of other Catholic men?”

A few years ago, I asked this question of my friend, and fellow parishioner, Jack. “Of course they do,” he replied. “I couldn’t get my job done at work without the support of the men in my department. And I’d go crazy from all the stress I’m under if I didn’t go out every Sunday with my buddies from St. Mary’s and play golf. You know, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull guy.’”

“I see your point, Jack,” I responded. “But that’s not what I mean. Do Catholic men need to share their lives with other men on a personal level? Do men need to be part of a group in which they can build close relationships by sharing their personal and common struggles, pray for one another, support one another, and hold one another accountable to live an authentic Catholic Christian life of integrity?”

“Well, now you’re talking about a whole new ball game,” Jack replied. “What you’re describing goes against the whole grain of who we are as men. By nature, men are created to be individualistic, strong, independent, self-reliant, self-sufficient, and guarded. We keep our distance from other men. We have to. Remember, men have always been the protectors of their family. Why, the highest compliment a man can receive is to be called a ‘self-made man.’”

“I agree with you, Jack, that men have certain God-given characteristics so they can fulfill their roles as protectors and providers of their family. But let me ask you a couple of questions: Have there been times in your life when you felt helpless or lacked the power or wisdom to change things? I’m talking about destructive behavior in one of your kids, grave disagreements with your wife, or a splintered relationship with a family member. Have you ever felt powerless to fight certain temptations or sinful habits?”

At this point Jack got very quiet. Then he said, “How about the playoffs so far. I don’t think the Yankees or Red Sox are going to make it. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Jack is not alone in believing that when it comes to our personal lives, men are not called to share them with other men. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we all know how difficult it is for men and their families to thrive in today’s culture. The ever-increasing demands on men’s time and energies and the collapse of traditional values and support structures underscore this challenge. Yet, I do not believe that God intended for Catholic men to live out their faith on their own.

Times have indeed changed. We’re working harder, our schedules are tight, and what little time we have is often used for television, sports, or activities that help us unwind. This has led to men having even more superficial relationships with other men. In spite of this, I do not think most Catholic men even consider that they need to be part of a group that prays together, or to have committed brothers in Christ who could offer prayer and sound advice to help them through difficult circumstances."

I will confess to feeling frustration with my local men's group, but it's not their fault--I find we connect well over "things"--events, shooting guns, worship events, bible study, social things, etc. But rarely do any of us get "real" enough to share our struggles with one another. We struggle alone. Part of me understands this, and part of my frustration bubbles up in saying, "well, what's the point of this, then?" 

Years ago there was a guy from our old parish, a few years younger then me with a large family who had some struggles with the common sins for men, as well as scruples. He was a blue collar guy, but sensitive enough to reach out and share a degree of vulnerability. I was doing my best to give him support and some guidance, sharing resources, etc, but eventually like a rubber band the relationship snapped back into the "I only need my family and not other men" mode. And I never heard from him again. 

I think all this goes back to that issue of expecting more of people than they may be willing to give. Just because I find I need support and relationships with other people, doesn't mean other men do. Part of me gets in this "well, screw this" mode and retreats, trying to be more like them--self-contained, not reaching out when struggling, keeping to oneself, etc--but it's just not how I'm wired. So I end up getting resentful--both that I'm not more like the other guys, and part that they're not more like me (and that I'm able to relate to someone on the same level). 

Augustine writes beautifully on the need for friendship, and that Christian friendship is the highest ideal. The love between two men is a beautiful thing, but many men are uncomfortable with it because it feels gay and too vulnerable. But Augustine had this with Alypius (as he recounts in Confesssions), and that love was not superficial or surface-y. But today, this is a rare thing indeed, and I have not found it.

So, the question remains--do men really need other men? Their wives might say, "yes, totally." And maybe a man might even think deep down inside he could benefit from it. But I rarely find a man willing to say, "I need a brother in Christ to help me be accountable, help carry my cross, push me, etc". We have these group things like Exodus 90, etc. where there's this warrior/knight/soldier archetype which is kind of generic and works for a lot of guys, but I find I just don't operate that way. I have a lot of guys I know--but not "one good friend" who I feel I can confide in, or if I can, that he would feel the same way. Like the U2 song goes, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for."