"Big Cooked Wieners": Why Tone Matters in Evangelization

I have a number of favorite poems that I have memorized, that have stayed with me over the years. One is William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow":

so much depends 

upon 

a red wheel 

barrow 

glazed with rain 

water 

beside the white 

chickens 

Another is from the 18th century haiku master Buson:

Pressing Sushi 

After a while 

A lonely feeling

But my all time favorite poem is one which is probably the most obscure, devoid of syntax, and written by a woman with a developmental disability who was living in a group home at the time it was composed.

Everybody 

by Shirley Nielson 

I was wearing a blue 

coat. it was cabbage and wieners. 

They were big cooked wieners, 

the smell was cabbage 

ah delicious smell of cabbage out not summer noise 

was running water in the kitchen somewhere.

Here's why I love it, why it is my most treasured poem of all time.

First, you are grabbed by the lapel and taken into the WTFness of the poem straight away. The author, the tour de force, is unapologetically wearing a blue coat. It is blue. Just so there is no doubt about what color it is. But wait, it is not just blue but CABBAGE AND WIENERS. A coat! Made from cabbage and wieners! What kind of world is this. I want to know.

So the coat is cabbage and wieners. And mind you, not just any wieners, but Big Cooked Wieners. You know the kind.  We've entered into the insanity, but it's a kind of safe house with nice smells. "The smell was cabbage." Cabbage isn't like lemon torts or cinnamon cloves, but notwithstanding it is the best thing going in this homey asylum

ah. delicious. smell.

Do you have any reason to doubt it? Shirley was wearing a blue coat, and she let you know it from the start. She establishes her credence in the Once Upon A Time setting of her wardrobe, moving into not just wieners and cabbage, but go-big-or-go-home wieners, and "the smell" was cabbage, as if there was no other smell in the world. Ah delicious smell. What is it about the smell of cabbage that transports her back, with you in the back seat of the Model T, to cabbage in the summer, in the quiet kitchen, the curtains waving and folding in the breeze. And all that can be heard is out not summer noise was running water in the kitchen somewhere.  

Why do I love this obscurely published poem written by a developmentally disabled women who lived in a group home so much? It does what great writing does: it takes me somewhere. It doesn't matter that the boat we're sailing on to get there is cabbage and wieners--what matters is they are big cooked wieners and there is confidence in a blue coat. The righteous formality of syntax has been left like a tailpipe and bumper at the station. I hear the water running. It is somewhere, not here. I am in the kitchen, and I have no idea why. But I'm there. 

The little children will inherit the earth. Syntax is the language of the Church, and it has it's place. But it's 'church speak.' If you don't know what a narthex is, or an alb, or a consecration--but you DO know coats and cabbages and the sound of water, somewhere, THAT is what you use to describe the transcendental reality of "Everybody." Not everyone speaks the language of academics; but then again, not everyone sees with the eyes of a child. You may not know what a vestment is, but you know you are wearing a blue coat. You may smell incense and be taken away to a heavenly realm, but you might also smell cabbage cooking and hear water running in the kitchen somewhere and remember your mother who passed away when you were twelve. Ah delicious smell. 

When we share the Good News of Jesus Christ with others, we would do well to offer them a ride rather than a tract. As a writer, this is what I try to do. I'm a story teller at heart. I love truth--not my truth, but capital T truth. Whether someone gets there by the lofty angelic proposals of Aquinas or the symbolism of Tolkien or the wit of Chesterton or the characters of O'Connor, all roads lead to Rome, to Christ, eventually. 

But that doesn't mean there aren't absurdities along the way. That's why I am utterly convinced that we need to laugh the laugh of blue coats and big cooked wieners from time to time, because the realm of the angelic is ordered by reason, but we here on earth can enjoy a little of the absurd grace we have experienced in how God has worked in our lives. That is a story in itself, and we all have them--whether you are mentally disabled and remembering your mother and throwing syntax out the window to bring her back, or you are an engineer who rationally reasoned his way into the Church by way of proofs and counter-points. Like our motto in our family when we have people over for dinner--we share what we have, and what we have, we give. 

I don't criticize tone too often in the work of evangelization, since everyone has their styles, but I do cringe slightly from time to time. Then again, I try to remember that St. Augustine was initially put off by the crudeness of the language of the written Bible that he was turned off by it....yet it won him over in the end, in all its coarseness. "We are not meant to be successful, but faithful" as Mother Teresa said. Successfully or not, swallowing red horsepills whole can get stuck in the throat if we're not careful--a little castor oil makes it go down a bit smoother.  

I can't help being sensitive to tone because I am a writer, have always been a writer, and will probably die a lousy writer, unable to shake the compulsion to communicate with words until my death which will release me from my final assignment. It takes years to hone tone. Though I appreciate gruffness, I get turned off by the Westboro Baptist Churches of the world, the Franklin Grahams, the utilitarian crassness and unrelenting dourness of certain strains of Catholicism. Not that I'm any affodicio, and maybe its a matter of preference--that what turns one off may turn another on to something greater, or wake them up when nuance might be shrugged off or disregarded. People are watching you. People are listening to you, and watching your tongue and who you are cutting down and who you are talking about. They watch from the shadows, taking in your actions through a straw. Speak the truth, but don't forget the charity.

Personally, I like stories. I like images. I like being moved by simple things like red wheel barrows and blue coats, or glazed rainwater and running faucets somewhere, or the moonlight loneliness of preparing to eat alone, and of what's real in this world as a way of pointing to the next: wine and bread, weddings, lamps, tears, funerals, friends, the smell of nard, the heartache of betrayal, the hope of restoration, miracles, paradox, and everything getting turned on its head. Blue coats. Cooked Wieners. The smell of cabbage. And out not summer noise running water in the kitchen somewhere

The Truth Will Make You Suffer

"I am very fond of truth, but not at all of martyrdom."

--Voltaire

Servant of God Fr. John Hardon writes about the "white martyrdom" of witness, a living martydom he experienced himself. He writes,

"Martyrdom is not an appendix to Christianity. It belongs to its essence. If we unite our sufferings for the faith with the Precious Blood of Christ, we shall be cooperating with Him in the redemption of the world.  

The secret is to love the cross. Why? Because our Love was crucified and we wish to be crucified with Him. Why? Because then we shall be glorified together with Him."

He goes on to explain this martyrdom of witness, violent in it's own regard:

"What do we mean by martyrdom of witness and how does it differ from the other two? It differs from them in that, even in the absence of active opposition--the imitation of Christ must always face passive opposition. From whom? From those who lack a clear vision of the Savior or who, having had it, lost their former commitment to Christ. All that we have seen about the martyrdom by violence applies here too, but the method of opposition is different. Here the firm believer in the Church's teaching authority; the devoted servant of the papacy; the convinced pastor who insists on sound doctrine to his flock; the dedicated religious who want to remain faithful to their vows of authentic poverty, honest chastity, and sincere obedience; the firm parents who are concerned about the religious and moral training of their children and are willing to sacrifice generously to build and care for a Christian family--natural or adopted--such persons will not be spared also active criticism and open opposition. But they must especially be ready to live in an atmosphere of coldness to their deepest beliefs.  

Sometimes they would almost wish the opposition were more overt and even persecution would be a welcome change. It is the studied indifference of people whom they know and love, of persons in their own natural or religious family, of men and women whose intelligence they respect and whose respect they cherish. 

This kind of apathy can be demoralizing and, unless it finds relief, can be devastating. To continue living a Christ-like life in this kind of environment is to practice the martyrdom of witness. Why witness? Because it means giving testimony to our deep religious convictions although all around us others are giving their own example to the contrary. It means giving witness twice over: once on our own behalf as the outward expression of what we internally believe and once again on behalf of others whose conduct is not only different from ours but contradicts it.  

Wherein lies the martyrdom? It lies in the deprivation of good example to us on the part of our contemporaries, and in the practice of Christian virtue in loneliness, because those who witness what we do are in the majority--numerically or psychologically--and we know they are being challenged and embarrassed by the testimony. We witness to them, indeed, but they are not pleased to witness who we are, what we stand for, what we say, or what we do."

When Christ was being brought before Annas the high priest and was struck he replied, “If I said something wrong,” Jesus replied, “testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?” (Jn 18:23) Later when brought before Pilate he testified that "the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me” (Jn 18:37) Pilate seems torn, when he responds, "What is truth?" the way a philosopher might. But Jesus is not a philosopher, but Truth itself (Jn 14:6), and can only testify to the truth and what is true.

How easy it is to lie by not telling the truth. But we should know that as Christians, we are bound to tell the truth, and this can put us in the some precarious situations in the secular arena when we face those who attempt to coerce us in affirming what is a lie. One quickly finds they can avoid the uncomfortable and sometimes searing indictments that come with affirming the true by sidestepping it. Like Peter, we may deny, with our heads down, that we ever knew the Truth. Just a pinch of incense, as the saying goes.

In the Western world, most of us will not die the death of a martyr, but we may live it. Good priests find themselves exiled or reprimanded for upholding God's law in the face of compromise; business owners are bullied into betraying their beliefs and by extension, their Christ. While the crowds affirm the emperor's nakedness, the child who shouts, "He has no clothes!" leaves everyone uncomfortably aghast. We pay the toll for driving in the wrong lane, for not playing by the world's rules.

We also face a kind of shedding, when we chafe up against the uncomfortable truths that we are not as good as we believe, not as charitable as we perceive ourselves to be, lacking integrity and courage by throwing our brothers and sisters under the bus by our silence and indifference. A man sees the truth about himself and tells the truth about the world, but a righteous man also suffers for it.

All things will be brought into the light on the Last Day. Until then, we must live by the truth and die by the truth, because we know what is true. If we don't yet know what is true, we must pray for wisdom, like Solomon, and for a clean heart, like David. For the truth cannot rest in an unclean heart, and wisdom cannot rest in fool's house. When we have come up against the truth, we will know, because the world will push back against it, or turn away in indifference. When we have to suffer for it, we should take it as our lot, not as something to be surprised by (1 Peter 4:12). And when we pray, we know God will give us the grace to persevere through such trials, as long as we do not turn away and abandon the race. You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free (Jn 8:32). But you may pay very dearly for it in the end.

"All truth passes through three stages.

First, it is ridiculed. 

Second, it is violently opposed. 

Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.."

--Arthur Schopenhauer

When You Hate To Be Alone...Be Alone

"All men's miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone." 

- Blaise Pascal

Humorous memes float around the internet about the lack of alone time mother's experience and not being able to hear themselves think when their children are young. Whether it's a toddler's hand thrusting under the bedroom door, or a mother going to the bathroom with their kids on their laps, the sentiment is commonplace--"Can't I get a minute alone!" Even my wife and I had a funny marital exchange when I jokingly asked her, "Do you ever fantasize about me?" to which she replied, "I fantasize about being a hotel room by myself with no one needing anything from me." You get the idea.

For men, we often have the "luxury" of going to work each day and breaking out from the household. I'm sure at times our wives have envied the ease with which we can stroll out the door and leave our household responsibilities behind for 8 hours or so (while also realizing that none of it would be possible if we didn't work). Most men, I would imagine, work in jobs in which they interact with other people, or if they do work solo they still have labor they have to attend to. But intentional solitude is another thing altogether--and, especially, when it comes to time spend with our Creator in prayer.

Our Lord was very intentional when asked by his disciples how they ought to pray. He didn't give a lofty, enigmatic or parabolic answer: instead, he said, "When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen" (Mt 6:6). And then he instructed them how they should pray--with the Lord's Prayer. It encompasses and distills the Christian life--justice, our needs, expectations, and desires--into a verbal prayer. When joined with a pure heart, it is a "complete protein" if you will. The Pater Noster is prayed during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass as a community with hearts joined to God. But it is interesting that Jesus joins this prayer with solitude: a room, a closed door, and all things unseen.

My son insisted on having his own "War Room" (to use the Protestant phrase) when he saw mine; he and I set apart for him by clearing out his closet. In it, he put pictures of saints, the Ten Commandments, a crucifix, holy water, a green scapular, and a tiny skull (memento mori) and a hand drawn piece of paper that says, simply, GOD LOVES ME. It's good for every house to have a devoted place to pray in solitude, if possible, as our Lord tells us.

Getting away for retreats seems like a luxury these days, though I went on retreat regularly in my twenties. As an imperfect concession to get some of this intentional, stripped away time in, I'm getting ready to do a kind of "house arrest" retreat this weekend. We have a larger-than-normal master bedroom with adjoining bathroom where I'm hoping to confine myself this weekend as I attempt to get off nicotine and leave it behind once and for all. I need three days for it to get out of my system, and I know I will be irritable; my wife agreed to take care of the kids and leave me to do what I need to do.

But when I think about it, it is so rare I am alone--even in my own house--that it's a slightly uncomfortable thought. What will come up when I'm alone with my thoughts? I've gotten more extroverted as I've gotten older, and like being around people. I like "doing" things. I hope to get out for a run each day and maybe work outside getting the garden ready for the Spring, but largely I will be spent in a kind of self-confinement or posh immurement for getting myself into the mess of attachment in the first place. The cure for attachment, is detachment.

Solitude is a healthy but often neglected aspect of the Christian life.  It's funny, though, when you do a quick google search of "being alone," the vast majority of things that come up are related to loneliness. While some people crave solitude, others are scared of it. I'm somewhere in between--its uncomfortable, but like eating vegetables and exercising, I know it's good for me periodically. I know I face things in solitude that get pushed down when I'm in the midst of friends, family, or co-workers. Things about myself. Things I don't like.

My father-in-law has recently, as he approaches the end of his life, been very fearful of being by himself. Family members will often have to spend the night because he gets panicky that he will die alone. The closer one gets to death, the more (or less) prepared one is to face Judgment becomes apparent and our insecurities become harder to hide. No one wants to die. But the stronger we are in our faith, the more prepared we are in ridding ourselves of vices, sins, and bad habits in this life, the more secure we will be in coming before the Throne and leaving this world behind and the less we have to fear. 

Christ was alone in the Garden of Gethsemane where he prayed (Mk 14:32). He retreated frequently to lonely places to pray (Lk 5:16). He went out into the desert to be tested for forty days (Mt 4:1). He was essentially alone on the Cross when he died. And when he died, he was entombed for three days and rose again. When I think of how little I have suffered compared to what Christ went through, and how little I can bear, I can't help being embarrassed. But I also know no suffering, no matter how little or seemingly insignificant, is wasted when joined with the sufferings of Christ. So, please pray for my upcoming immurement this weekend--I'm sure there will be some battles to be fought, some demons to wrestle with, and some discomfort in being (somewhat) alone. "But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor 15:57). To Christ be the victory. Amen.

The Indispensable Mother

I often talk about the father's influence in the life of faith. Touchstone has a good study with some stats here.

"In short, if a father does not go to church, no matter how faithful his wife’s devotions, only one child in 50 will become a regular worshipper. If a father does go regularly, regardless of the practice of the mother, between two-thirds and three-quarters of their children will become churchgoers (regular and irregular). If a father goes but irregularly to church, regardless of his wife’s devotion, between a half and two-thirds of their offspring will find themselves coming to church regularly or occasionally."

St. John Paul II mentioned an image of his father that stayed with him through the years of waking up in the middle of the night and finding his father kneeling in the dark, praying silently. Our son has started learning to serve at the Latin Mass, and I was even surprised that my wife mentioned he expressed wanting to fast and take cold showers, "like daddy." The model the father sets for the household--not only in word, but in deed--is essential, especially for sons.

If the father's influence in the life of faith is vital, what about the role of the mother in pretty much everything else? Again, especially during the early years, the mother's presence cannot be overstated.

In creating a "domestic monastery" in the home, I've found my wife to be the foundation. We have cut back on a lot of activities and things that just allow us more time at home as a family together, doing nothing but logging time together. And time has no substitution.

One thing that does take away from some of that time, albeit on a limited basis, is when my wife leaves the house for her weekend overnight shift. Thankfully, this is only a few times a month and occurs largely when the kids are sleeping and I am home. Ideally, she would not have to at all but it is the situation and arrangement we are in currently, though it may change in the future depending on finances. I notice, though, the nights when they know she is scheduled to go in, the kids are extra attached to her. It is pretty much the only time they are away from her, and they will crawl into my bed in the morning and ask, "when is mommy coming home?" prior to her returning. It's like they just can't get enough of being with her. Time is the currency they trade in.

But this is normal, especially when kids are young! Though it is disruptive in some sense, it is a manageable burden right now. I really feel for women who are forced to work by economic necessity and not wanting to. Daycare is in such cases a necessary and expensive necessity, but I think even mothers would admit it is not the ideal for them.

The argument in some Catholic circles is that women have always worked, and so working mothers should in the industrial age is a modern extension of this and should not be denigrated. Many women, as the claim goes, find fulfillment and purpose outside the home in their jobs. It can often be a vicious debate, because it is so personal. I have found, and speaking only from our experience (since we have been on both sides of it with my wife working full time and now largely at home), that children benefit from the presence of their mothers at home more than they do them being outside the home for extended periods of time.

Is this a 'privilege' that only those of economic means, who can live on the husband's income, are privy too? In some sense, but I think there are also budgetary choices that can be adjusted to make it more of a reality. The proverb comes to mind "Better a small serving of vegetables with love than a fattened calf with hatred" (Prov 15:17). A friend of mine has a good blog on many of these topics here. Women who have grown up in the wake of the feminist movement may not even realize there is an alternative, or know how to make it happen. She does a good job with 'nuts and bolts' things for those being moved in their hearts to make a change. It was a big help when we were making the shift as to the why. And grace came too, in large response to the prayers of my wife that God would give her the desires of her heart to make a way for her to be home. We're not a perfect model (is there really any perfect model), but things have vastly improved in the peace and stability of our home life with the change. Time is a currency with no substitution.

What You Live For: Drafting Your Death Wish

At First Friday Mass yesterday evening, our priest gave a brief homily on Servant of God Frank Parater, who was a seminarian from the Diocese of Richmond, Virginia. He died in Rome during his theological studies 100 years to the day, at the age of 22 from a rheumatic fever.

I have been doing the First Friday and First Saturday devotion--reparative devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, respectively--for the past six months. For those who are unfamiliar with it, Our Lord promises the following graces to those who receive Holy Communion on the first Friday of every month (for nine consecutive months) in honor and reparation to his Sacred Heart, as revealed to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque:

1. I will give them all the graces necessary for their state of life. 
2. I will give peace in their families. 
3. I will console them in all their troubles. 
4. I will be their refuge in life and especially in death. 
5. I will abundantly bless all their undertakings. 
6. Sinners shall find in my Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy. 
7. Tepid souls shall become fervent. 
8. Fervent souls shall rise speedily to great perfection. 
9. I will bless those places wherein the image of my Sacred Heart shall be exposed and venerated. 
10. I will give to priests the power to touch the most hardened hearts.
11. Persons who propagate this devotion shall have their names eternally written in my Heart.
12. In the excess of the mercy of my heart, I promise you that my all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in my displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and my Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.

Frank Parater, as a young man, composed the following letter prior to going to Rome, to be read in the event of his death should he pass, offering his life to the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the conversion of Virginia:

“I have nothing to leave or give but my life and this I have consecrated to the Sacred Heart to be used as He wills. I have offered my all for the conversion of non-Catholics in Virginia. This is what I live for and in case of death what I die for…Since my childhood, I have wanted to die for God and my neighbor. Shall I have this grace? I do not know, but if I go on living, I live for this same purpose; every action of my life here is offered to God for the spread and success of the Catholic Church in Virginia…I shall be of more service to my diocese in Heaven than I can ever be on earth.”

Though Parater was an excellent student and a model of charity, an Eagle Scout, and top in his class, but from outward appearance his was not a manifestly heroic virtue. I have always been attracted to those holy heroes and "big gun" saints--St. Augustine the major sinner turned saint; St. Francis Xavier; St. Anthony the Great; St. Teresa of Calcutta. But what I appreciated about Parater--who I had not known about prior to last night--was that he did not do anything outwardly extraordinary. His devotion to the Sacred Heart was fitting for a First Friday sermon. He recognized that his death was as if, if not more important than anything he could do in life. And he prepared for it, testified to in his writing. Not just for himself, but for the Church universal, as well as the Church local.

If you don't have a devotion to the Sacred Heart, maybe now is the time to start. Remember the graces promised to those who do. And if you don't have a death wish, maybe now is a good time to draft one. You never know when the Lord will take you, or how he will use, whether in this life or the next.

And I'm grateful to have found a new intercessor to petition a miracle from when I need it.

When Your Wife Doesn't Respect You

The longer you've been married, the more you tend to associate with married couples. The odd thing is, from the outside, we are largely unaware of the "aquifer of trouble" running through many marriages. People either tend to put on a happy face when in public or even among friends, or you may (as we have) just be sideswiped one day with the announcement of a divorce you never saw coming. The reasons are often repetitive: I'm not in love with him or her anymore. I'm tired. I just don't want to do this anymore. I've met someone else. This was never right from the beginning. Or sometimes people change, and they aren't the person they thought they married. 

As much as we try to nuance every last scenario today, and not confine people to boxes or predetermined roles, biology has a funny way of being stubborn. You try to push it down, and it springs back up the way it was meant to grow. This can often mean stereotyping, which can lead sometimes lead to good comedy fodder (such as Mark Gungor's "A Tale of Two Brains" on Youtube). It's funny because it's predictable and easy to relate to. 

There are two basic but vital aspects to a marriage that should come as no surprise, since they undergird the principals of many marriage counselors: Love and Respect. Before you think this is some secular humanist principals at work, keep in mind as Catholic Christians we rely on Scripture and Tradition to bring ourselves in alignment with God's plan for marriage and family, and not the other way around. And Scripture is clear: "Each of you must love his wife as himself, and the wife must respect her husband" (Eph 5:33)

Notice two things: Paul does not suggest that one love and offer respect. One MUST love his wife, and one MUST respect her husband. 

The other thing to note, is that the two terms are meant for their respective parties, and not meant to be interchangeable. Husbands must love their wives (as themselves) and wives must respect their husbands. 

This is so fundamental and basic but so easily forgotten in the day to day interchange between spouses. Maybe I will do another post on husbands loving their wives, and what that looks like, but for this post I would like to focus on what I see more commonly: the strife and division caused when wives do not respect their husbands. 

Now, before I start, I should say that respect (and authority) is one of those heavy handed words, especially in the context of a traditional community; some women may even get triggered by it because of abuses stemming from issues of respect and authority. Fr. Ripperger has some good points to make in some of his talk of the problem of such abuses within traditionalist communities--men shirking their responsibilities while simultaneously using a heavy hand to demand it or exert authority. If Christ is our model, we see he "humbled himself by becoming obedient to death," (Phil 2:8). Men in fact, as disciples of Christ, are called to love their wives in the way Christ loved the Church--to whom, of course, "he gave himself up for" (Eph 5:25).

How would your wife respond to you if you woke up one day and told her, "I don't love you?" Love is a deep seated need for all men, women, and children. Erik Erikson places it in the middle of his "Hierarchy of Needs" pyramid, but especially in familial context, I would place it much higher. Just as our Lord said that "man does not live on bread alone," (Mt 4:4) and just as love is tantamount to the Christian life, an unloved person (or even a person who feels unloved) will act according to this deficiency. Wives must not only be loved, but feel loved to thrive.

But it is like a Chinese finger trap, isn't it? The more a husband withholds love, or does not make it known (even should he possess it), the less the wife is inclined to offer what she knows he needs--namely, respect. It is easier to respect someone you love, and who you know loves you. But also we see in Scripture, "For rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though a good person someone might possible died for. But God demonstrated his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom 5:7-8). Love is not earned. It can't be earned. Love to be true must be freely given. Which is why we have the cross. 

But we also have the Cross in our own marriages, don't we? And that cross might just be your spouse themselves! Rather than emptying ourselves, as Christ did, we seek to get filled up. This is the paradox of Christian love, and especially so in marriage.

All that being said, if love is true because it is not earned, what about respect? Is respect earned? I would say respect should be earned, but sometimes a wife can help nurture the virtues in her husband by coaxing them the way the rays of the sun coax a seed out of it's shell. Often in marriage, we must act contract to our natural (fallen) inclinations in order to exact virtue from ourselves, and help to grow it in others. 

And the "feeling" part of it is even more acute when it comes to respect. A woman may know her husband loves her but may have trouble expressing it (though he should, even if not verbally). But a man who does not know that he is respected by his wife, and in fact doubts that, will usually find his suspicions confirmed. If a wife respects her husband, she is usually quick to express it (as women do). This could be in sex or praise or a gift or physical affection. And most women have no idea the power such affirmations hold, insignificant as they might seem on the surface. When a man is affirmed, even when he is failing, it is often what keeps him afloat or from seeking out someone else to affirm him, from leaving the family, or from withdrawing. When a man is affirmed, and he knows his wife supports him in everything he does and is trying to do, it is trans formative. It makes him want to be a better man. 

But the more conditions placed on such respect "I will only respect you if you love me," or "I will only respect you if you do such -and-such around the house," the more the husband learns that his wife's love is conditional. These are when the cracks start to develop in a marriage. The thing is, they can often be filled with simple exercises to reintroduce what a man needs most to flourish--love yes, but mostly: respect. 

The tongue is a powerful weapon, and women can cut their husbands down with it, whether directly (to him) or indirectly (to their friends, sisters, etc). Paul reminds us again, "Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that is will give grace to those who hear" (Eph 4:29)

To gain life, you must lose it. To be filled, you must empty yourself. This is the Christian paradox, and paradox is at the heart of the Christian life, the Christian mystery. Marriage itself is kind of mystery sometimes, too! But it's not super complicated either. It just takes an iron will and a lot of stubbornness to stay married in the barrage of storms that threaten it. But if I can make a suggestion to wives: find something--anything!--you respect about your husband, and let him know it--even if he doesn't deserve it! Do you "deserve" to be loved? You may be surprised you are thinking with this mind. You may also be surprised that a little yeast, a little respect, goes a long way in leavening the whole loaf.

The State of the Household: An Introduction

My name is not important. I am like many husbands and fathers, who are doing their best to raise their children and be faithful to my vows, to teach the Faith and pass it down through generations to come, to provide, and to live out my own vocation in my particular state of life. We have come a long way, and done many one-eighties to realign our lives with the life God wanted us to step into.

I had come into the Church at eighteen years old. For ten years, in my twenties, I thought I was going to be a monastic, "for it is better not to marry," as the Apostle writes. I was a late bloomer of sorts "in the world," because I had focused so much on leaving it behind once and for all. For as St. John says, "if the love of the world is in you, the love of the Father is not." (1 Jn 2:15). When I was rejected from a monastery after applying to be a postulant, and met my wife-to-be a year later, my vocation became clear. Prayers were answered in ways unexpected. The hand was put to the plow, and there was peace.

My salary working in social services (the only job I could find) was modest, but my wife had been doing well for years in the health profession. When she was promoted to the manager of a department at the hospital, she was making good money, though she paid for it in stress and busyness. At heart, she always wanted to be a wife and mother. We got working on the second part of that equation not long after we were married, having a son and a daughter in rapid succession. Our personal faith was strong, but we were far from orthodox in many aspects of the Faith. Contraception was a thorn in the side, because of my conscience (corrupted as it was by lousy catechesis and years of liberal Catholicism that I thought was normative), but I had no example of anyone not using it.


For dual income earners, two or three kids is usually the breaking point. Our daycare was costing us my salary, and "the hustle" of shuttling the infants to and from the center was, we figured, just what you did. I had shirked the idea of responsibility for most of my life, valuing freedom and autonomy above all things, and so the idea of a traditional model of my wife staying home and us living on my salary was not even on the radar. Of course she would work. Daycare (and later, a live in au pair) was budgeted for, and we figured was not forever, so we could manage it. But we had to put a cap on those kids. Originally we had planned to stay in the city and shell out for private Catholic schools, but figured it was a better financial move to relocate across state lines to a better school district and make use of the public schools. I had gone to public schools my whole life (my wife attended Catholic school for hers). It was just what you did. We bought a house we could afford in a "good" school district, and our son started kindergarten.


I wasn't quite a Mr. Mom, but I did try to do as much around the house as I could since my wife was in the more stressful position work wise. I cooked, I cleaned, I did laundry, I picked up the kids when she worked late. Something was not "as it should be," but we didn't know any different, the way a fish doesn't know it lives in water. When our kids were two and three, that was the hardest period. If we had another...well, let's just say we weren't sure we could handle it.

It's a long story I have told elsewhere, but when we found a Miraculous Medal in a pew on vacation, and my wife started wearing it, things started to change. The sacramental grace that was unleashed was like water wearing down a rock. My wife's mother died suddenly shortly after finding the medal. We had a miscarriage. Our sex life was white-knuckling trying to avoid pregnancy. It was all about control and "being responsible," which meant emulating the world that I had tried to spurn a decade ago.

Living a radical faith is easier when you see it done, so the Lord "sent us some brothers (and sisters) to show us the way and model for us what authentic Catholicism looks like. It started with a blog I stumbled on, as well as some lectures by Dr. Janet Smith ("Contraception, Why Not?") to prick our conscience. We began to give up control, make changes. We threw away the condoms. I was still adamant about sending the kids to "the good public schools," but then the transgender bathroom things started making the news, and something didn't seem right about that. My wife had a desire to homeschool, which was crazy considering it would be a waste of our high school tax privileges. I had just started a new job with a slightly higher salary and some good benefits. The Lord sent us some homeschooling families, and we saw the fruits with our own eyes. We had an au pair after our third (miracle) baby was born. But the whisper in our hearts was "trust Me." And so we began to. Our knuckles were not as white as they used to be.

When my wife made the decision to leave her full time high salary job a couple years ago, her heart was coming more in alignment with her favorite Psalm, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart" (Ps 37:4). We were making it work financially, with some graces and blessings to aid the transition. The baby came with some bread under his arm, as the saying goes. Our son had had some behavioral issues in kindergarten (manifesting when he got home from school, probably from the stress of being in a classroom setting), which began to dissipate the more things progressed with homeschooling.


My wife continued to work a few shifts a month at the hospital bedside, and a funny thing happened with the $60k loss of income--I started to step up. I picked up extra jobs, tightened our budget, and hustled. I became more invested in my own job, and took more pride in being the main provider, though the initial thought scared the hell out of me. I had my own issues as a result of struggling to hold down employment in the past on account of a mental illness, but miraculously--and largely in part thanks to the newfound stability found in marriage, despite the stressors--the symptoms I had suffered under for so many years began to disappear. I was stable, our household became more stable, and our marriage strengthened. Our sex life was healthy and natural and frequent, which solidified the bond between us. My wife tends towards submissiveness by nature, but in bringing things into 'right order,' it was like a natural puzzle piece that just found it's way to it's rightful place. She learned to cook. She tried to keep the house clean. It wasn't quite Leave It To Beaver, but it was trending that way. And we had more peace. Something was working.

We were still attending Mass at a local parish, but were introduced by a friend to the Traditional Latin Mass, which we attended one Sunday. I wasn't taken with it at first, but what became a more pressing concern for me was the transmission of the Faith to our children. I didn't see this happening in Novus Ordo parishes for the most part (with some exceptions, of course). I also taught 5th grade CCD and saw the fruit of it, which was largely useless. The foundation we were building on did not seem solid. So despite my liturgical ignorance and not being drawn to traditionalism initially, we started attending Mass in the Extraordinary Form once a month. Eventually the schizophrenia of switching between what seemed to be two totally different churches and Masses became too difficult, and we decided to hold our nose and jump to the TLM exclusively. The community we found ourselves in (again, by grace) was very welcoming, not cliquey, and largely "normal." It took about a year to feel comfortable, but now we can't image going back after, again, seeing the fruits. Our son is learning to serve at the Mass (all boys), and is enthusiastic about it even. The feminized nature of the liturgy in the N.O. was always a source of embarrassment for me without realizing, because I never knew there was an alternative. But now we found, there was, one suited to male sensibilities, who in turn umbrella their wives and children and make them want to lead, to take responsibility for the spiritual trajectory of the household. I found other men as well--again, "God sent me some brothers"--to practice the faith with in word and deed, and most have a more traditional model of leading their households than what we had initially.


A highlight of Catholicism is a synthesis of the subjective experience of the moving of the Holy Ghost with the objective foundation of Truth and doctrine to guide it. It is hard, which appeals to a man's sensibilities and makes him his best self, much like a good wife, a good marriage does. Right authority, right order...right living. Everything is hard while still falling into place, which produces peace as the byproduct, not the objective. Love deepens in the submission of the wife when her husband take seriously his charge to head his household. Children emulate their father in the faith, and grow close to their mother when they are afforded the time with the family unit.


I started this blog for both men and women, for they are the two lungs--like faith and reason--that lay the foundation for our world: the family, the building block of society. You start from the ground up, and build with the mortar of faith and the bricks of tradition. We have the blueprints from the Magisterium. We have the energy to run the machines from grace. We have the model of what "what it looks like" in the Holy Family. And we have the goal, the skyward building, in the celestial home we hope to make it to: Heaven. Is there anything more important?


"For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior." (Eph 5:23)

Give Me A Word

Every now and then I will arrive a few minutes late to daily Mass. It is customary in these situations when the Word of God is being read, to stand quietly in the back until the readings are finished, then to take your seat. Why? Because when the words of scripture are being proclaimed, God is truly present, living and active. "When the Scriptures are read in the Church, God Himself is speaking to His people and Christ, present in His own word, is proclaiming the Gospel." (GIRM, n.29) Do you really want to draw attention to yourself while the King of Kings and Lord of Lord is present in your midst? Rude!

The Word incarnate, the Divine Logos (λόγος), is so fundamental to a Christian anthropology, that is it sets the stage for everything that follows in John's gospel. God speaks life into existence in the very first chapter of Genesis, and so to in John's account of the pre-existent Christ: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (Jn 1:1). To ascribe finite language with the Unknowable, Unnamable, infinite Creator of the Universe may seem strange to general Deists, ignostics, and even Jews. But the Christian god--God incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ, who comes crashing through space and time to ransom His captive people, "the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us (Jn 1:14).

The Scripture, the Word of God, is not dead letters on a page as in a history book, but alive and with power. Like a spore or a tiny seed carried through the air, it has the power to take root in a man's heart and turn his life inside out when he is disposed to it. As St. James writes, "Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was. But he who looks into the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does." (James 1:22-25)

I have two icons on the wall on either side of the crucifix at my prayer station. On one side is Our Lady of Guadalupe, and on the other is St. Anthony of Egypt--ascetic, battler of demons, and the father of Western monasticism. But it all started with a word. From St. Athanasius:

"Not six months after his parents’ death, as he [Anthony] was on his way to church for his usual visit, he began to think of how the apostles had left everything and followed the Savior, and also of those mentioned in the book of Acts who had sold their possessions and brought the apostles the money for distribution to the needy. He reflected too on the great hope stored up in heaven for such as these. This was all in his mind when, entering the church just as the Gospel was being read, he heard the Lord’s words to the rich man: If you want to be perfect, go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor – you will have riches in heaven. Then come and follow me.

It seemed to Antony that it was God who had brought the saints to his mind and that the words of the Gospel had been spoken directly to him. Immediately he left the church and gave away to the villagers all the property he had inherited, about 200 acres of very beautiful and fertile land, so that it would cause no distraction to his sister and himself. He sold all his other possessions as well, giving to the poor the considerable sum of money he collected. However, to care for his sister he retained a few things.

 The next time he went to church he heard the Lord say in the Gospel: Do not be anxious about tomorrow. Without a moment’s hesitation he went out and gave the poor all that he had left. He placed his sister in the care of some well-known and trustworthy virgins and arranged for her to be brought up in the convent. Then he gave himself up to the ascetic life, not far from his own home."

The Word took root in this fertile soil. Anthony would go on to be a great saint and, as mentioned previously, the father of Western monasticism and catalyst for a "flight to the desert." Why a flight? Constantine's Edict of Milan issued in 313AD essentially put an end to state-sanctioned persecution and the opportunity for martyrdom. The "radical" discipleship of Anthony was only radical in contrast to the comfortableness of status-quo Christians or CINOs (Catholics in Name Only) who enjoyed the benefits of the protection of the Emperor. Anthony sparked a unintentional movement of solitary (and eventually, communal) living apart from the world and devoted to the practice of prayer and asceticism.

It was common for those coming to the desert seeking the way to Life to beg one of the Fathers to "give a word," the way Lazarus longed even for the crumbs that fell from the table of the rich man (Lk 16:21). And so we see this theme again, of the word emanating and giving life, being alive and pregnant with the kernel of Truth itself. While the holy men and women in the desert lived on crumbs of bread, those who have not been mortified seeking a new way of life lived on the utterances of sparse words, the utterances of wisdom from those who had merit.

The early Desert Fathers and Mothers were the first "self-selecting" believers. Until the Edict of Milan was issued, Christians were minorities subject to persecution, who believed the Parousia was imminent. When Christianity gained protected legal status, it had a 'relaxing' effect--believers could breath a sigh of relief, but also seek status and remain in a comfortable state. The early monastic communities were essentially an alternative Christian society for quote-unquote "serious" Christians who sought also an alternative martyrdom through asceticism, a "death to the flesh."

What was their motivation? Some interesting notes from New Advent:

"Besides a desire of observing the evangelical counsels, and a horror of the vice and disorder that prevailed in a pagan age, two contributory causes in particular are often indicated as leading to a renunciation of the world among the early Christians. The first of these was the expectation of an immediate Second Advent of Christ (cf. 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; 1 Peter 4:7, etc.) That this belief was widespread is admitted on all hands, and obviously it would afford a strong motive for renunciation since a man who expects this present order of things to end at any moment, will lose keen interest in many matters commonly held to be important. This belief however had ceased to be of any great influence by the fourth century, so that it cannot be regarded as a determining factor in the origin of monasticism which then took visible shape.

A second cause more operative in leading men to renounce the world was the vividness of their belief in evil spirits. The first Christians saw the kingdom of Satan actually realized in the political and social life of heathendom around them. In their eyes the gods whose temples shone in every city were simply devils, and to participate in their rites was to join in devil worship. When Christianity first came in touch with the Gentiles the Council of Jerusalem by its decree about meat offered to idols (Acts 15:20) made clear the line to be followed. Consequently certain professions were practically closed to believers since a soldier, schoolmaster, or state official of any kind might be called upon at a moment's notice to participate in some act of state religion. But the difficulty existed for private individuals also. There were gods who presided over every moment of a man's life, gods of house and garden, of food and drink, of health and sickness. To honour these was idolatry, to ignore them would attract inquiry, and possibly persecution. And so when, to men placed in this dilemma, St. John wrote, "Keep yourselves from idols" (1 John 5:21) he said in effect "Keep yourselves from public life, from society, from politics, from intercourse of any kind with the heathen", in short, "renounce the world"."

We are entering a 4th century situation, but in reverse. Those Christians who "self-select," who may be accused of being overzealous or "too-serious" Catholics share the same horror of vice and pagan disorder, as well as a vivid belief in evil spirits, "the kingdom of Satan realized in the political and social life of heathendom around them." It is not necessarily solitude we seek out in the desert and secluded places, but each other--those hidden believers to whom we can confide our "seriousness," to whom living as if the parousia was scheduled for tomorrow is not weird or extreme, but in line with how a Christian should be living all along. Just as Anthony sought out Abba Paul, who sought out the cold comfort of the harsh desert life, so too do the Christians of the new age of martyrdom seek to separate themselves from the persecution of a pagan culture and be strengthened and fortified by those who "get it." We "seek a word," and wisdom is always appreciated; but it could be a word of encouragement to keep going when our own family or friends have turned against us (as our Lord tells us to expect), to NOT feel so alone, where many of us are forced--either by necessity or circumstance--to be in the world.

"But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people. They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over gullible women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth. Just as Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so also these teachers oppose the truth. They are men of depraved minds, who, as far as the faith is concerned, are rejected. But they will not get very far because, as in the case of those men, their folly will be clear to everyone. You, however, know all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose, faith, patience, love, endurance, persecutions, sufferings—what kinds of things happened to me in Antioch, Iconium and Lystra, the persecutions I endured. Yet the Lord rescued me from all of them. In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted, while evildoers and impostors will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived. But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work." (2 Tim 3:1-17).

The Word--the living Word--sustains us. As our Lord says, "man does not live by bread alone" (Mt 4:4). And yet bread alone is what the world offers. And not only the world, but fellow "semi-believers" and quasi-Catholics as well, who have the husk without the grain, the veneer without the engine, the Faith without belief. Yes, we are called to be a light of the world (Mt 5:14), but we also must be fortified and strengthened for what lies ahead, and this may very well not happen among non-believers and CINOs. It is this kind of new monasticism that is interdependent rather than independent, in the world rather than separated from it, clandestine rather than flying out in the open. It's only because we know what is coming.

The Spectre of Death

I learned--inadvertently and unexpectedly by way of a second-hand tag--that a man I knew, had lived with and worked beside at The Catholic Worker 18 years ago, died this week in his early fifties. From what I gathered, it was by his own hand, and I was not surprised to learn from those in the community who knew him that he struggled with depression.

I don't feel comfortable or entitled to write about him in any kind of elegy fashion. It's a community committed to social justice in the far-left activist tradition that I no longer feel connected to. I have some fond memories of working in the community garden together, running around town in his old pick up truck picking up free food for the poor, attending Mass together across the street from where we lived, hanging anti-war and anti-capitalist messages hand painted on bedsheets out the bay window of our row house, and his tales of being arrested and protesting at the School of the Americas calling for demilitarization and nuclear disarmament. He was a difficult guy to live with temperament wise for me, but was true to his calling of radically living the Gospel message and embracing decentralized governance and voluntary poverty in the spirit of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin. He was a one of a kind character for sure and dressed the part, with his gruff voice, barrel chest, overalls, and long nattled hair. Everybody in the 'hood knew and loved N.

I have written about suicide and resisting the allure of the phantasmal Noonday Demon here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here. It's no stranger, and though I may not feel entitled to write an elegy for N., the jarring reminder of the spectre of death that this demon brings on his back appeared when I read the news. No one, no family, is immune from it.

Our Lord says in scripture, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full (Jn 10:10). This describes my view of suicide; it robs life. It is always tragic, especially for those who love the one robbed of life. Like the Devil himself, the promises of suicide are lies, the ultimate lies.

On the topic of suicide, the Catechism states:

2280 Everyone is responsible for his life before God who has given it to him. It is God who remains the sovereign Master of life. We are obliged to accept life gratefully and preserve it for his honor and the salvation of our souls. We are stewards, not owners, of the life God has entrusted to us. It is not ours to dispose of.

2281 Suicide contradicts the natural inclination of the human being to preserve and perpetuate his life. It is gravely contrary to the just love of self. It likewise offends love of neighbor because it unjustly breaks the ties of solidarity with family, nation, and other human societies to which we continue to have obligations. Suicide is contrary to love for the living God.

2282 If suicide is committed with the intention of setting an example, especially to the young, it also takes on the gravity of scandal. Voluntary co-operation in suicide is contrary to the moral law.
Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.

It is often presumed that the Church says with unequivocally that those who have committed this sin have bought a one way ticket to Hell. Although we can reasonably speculate that Hell is not, in fact, empty--that many, many people go there--it is not in fact for us to speculate on those who go there. We may be certain of those in Heaven, the canonized saints. But as to the eternal fate of the large majority of us commonplace run of the mill sinners--God reserves the knowledge. It is not our place to judge souls.

The Devil wants us to despair. But its antidote--hope--is a powerful virtue. As the Catechism states,

2283 We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.

We should be careful not to stand in judgment. What a terrifying prospect, this ricocheting bullet in scripture that threatens to rip through our own lips from which the judgment emminated: "For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you" (Mt 7:2). To consign someone to Hell and then find our own names on the ticket!

Hearing of suicides--friends, family, strangers, teenagers, elderly, those well off with everything and those struggling under the weight of despair, men, women, veterans, housewives--it always shakes me. Because the face of the spectre of death is not a figment, but a familiar visitor I have to continue to resist, having wrestled like Jacob on the edge of the abyss with the Angel of Death, my hip put out of joint as a reminder of the struggle. He flees for a time, and it is only the inoculation of grace, I believe, that keeps him at bay.

Please offer a prayer for N, for the repose of his soul. St. Dymphna, pray for us.

By Your Words You Shall Be Condemned

There is a story from the East I read years ago that has stayed with me over the years. It goes something like this:

"The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.  

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.  

This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.   

In great anger the parents went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.  

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbors and everything else the little one needed.  

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth--that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.  

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again.  

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?""

There is a similar story in the deuterocanonical 13th chapter of Daniel that gives light to living under false accusations from the vantage point of Susanna, the beautiful and God-fearing wife of Joakim, a rich and respected Jew.

In the story, two elders who have been appointed as judges and who were regulars at Joakim's house become enamored of his wife Susanna, and lust for her. It is interesting to note that "though both were enamored of her, they did not tell each other their trouble, for they were ashamed to reveal their lustful desire to have her" (Dan 13:10).

When the two lawless perverts go their separate ways but embarrassingly end up back at the same spot on account of their burning passion, they decide to conspire together to find an opportunity to make her the object of their lust. Susanna is cornered in the garden where she is bathing but cries out; in response to their thwarted desires, she is subsequently falsely accused by the wicked elders. The story is preposterous given Susanna's reputation; nonetheless, "the assembly believed them, since they were elders and judges of the people," and condemned her to death (13:41).

Susanna knows she has no recourse but to God alone, and cries out to Him aloud. And it is written, "the Lord heard her prayer" (13:44). He sends the young Daniel to speak out against the injustice, who sends the people back to court. Daniel separates the two elders, obtains conflicting stories and in the process exposes their lies. Susanna is vindicated and the lawless judges are put to death in accordance with the law of Moses.

I happened upon this story of Susanna by way of the inestimable St. Ambrose, who makes reference to her in his treatise "On The Duties of Clergy." Although covering various facets of the state of the ministerial office, it is his words on the virtue of holding silence that held me.

Why? Because I have a big mouth, that's why. Not only that, but those many hidden sins that we conveniently excuse ourselves from, or are not able to see but by grace, show us just how far we are from sainthood.


It Is Dangerous To Speak

Ambrose posits that there is more merit in keeping silent than in speaking, a virtue made all the more arduous to attain because of our sinful tongues and the temptations of the Enemy. He writes,

"What need is there, then, that you should hasten to undergo the danger of condemnation by speaking, when you can be more safe by keeping silent? How many have I seen to fall into sin by speaking, but scarcely one by keeping silent; and so it is more difficult to know how to keep silent than how to speak. I know that most persons speak because they do not know how to keep silent. It is seldom that any one is silent even when speaking profits him nothing. He is wise, then, who knows how to keep silent." (2.5)

Likewise, we see in the saints the model of holy silence. They eschewed in horror the occasions of sin, whether by fear, prudence, or recognition of their own weakness; we know that the tongue is no exception.

"Therefore the saints of the Lord loved to keep silence, because they knew that a man's voice is often the utterance of sin, and a man's speech is the beginning of human error. Lastly, the Saint of the Lord said: I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not in my tongue. For he knew and had read that it was a mark of the divine protection for a man to be hid from the scourge of his own tongue, Job 5:21 and the witness of his own conscience. We are chastised by the silent reproaches of our thoughts, and by the judgment of conscience. We are chastised also by the lash of our own voice, when we say things whereby our soul is mortally injured, and our mind is sorely wounded." (2.6)

Our Lord says that we must give an account of every idle word uttered (Mt 12:36). What a frightening thought when your mouth is like the flapper of a toilet with a kinked chain that constantly gets stuck open.

Active and Idle Silence

Ambrose distinguishes between the holy and active silence of heroines like Susanna who stake their trust in God, and the lazy idle silence of those afraid to speak when speech is warranted. He extols the virtues of David who "enjoined on himself not constant silence, but watchfulness." In the story of Susanna, it is Daniel who is enflamed to speak, when he could have idly stood by and let an innocent woman be put to death. Our lips must be guarded in the way we guard our hearts, as he quotes the prophet "Hedge your possession about with thorns, and bind up your silver and gold, and make a door and a bar for your mouth, and a yoke and a balance for your words" (Sirach 28:24-25).


Words of Provocation

In the fourth chapter of his treatise, Ambrose lays out how the Enemy uses our passions and our words of expression against us through temptation. Social media, for all its merits, is often a fetid swamp of temptation to sins against the tongue, to uncharity, to rash judgment, and to passion contrary to reason. It takes a very restrained man to navigate it, and I am not one of those men, for in the virtues Ambrose extols--mildness, gentleness, modesty, temperance, patience--are sorely lacking in my character, and so his words serve as a searing indictment.

"If any one takes heed to this, he will be mild, gentle, modest. For in guarding his mouth, and restraining his tongue, and in not speaking before examining, pondering, and weighing his words — as to whether this should be said, that should be answered, or whether it be a suitable time for this remark — he certainly is practising modesty, gentleness, patience. So he will not burst out into speech through displeasure or anger, nor give sign of any passion in his words, nor proclaim that the flames of lust are burning in his language, or that the incentives of wrath are present in what he says. Let him act thus for fear that his words, which ought to grace his inner life, should at the last plainly show and prove that there is some vice in his morals. 

For then especially does the enemy lay his plans, when he sees passions engendered in us; then he supplies tinder; then he lays snares. Wherefore the prophet says not without cause, as we heard read today: Surely He has delivered me from the snare of the hunter and from the hard word. Symmachus said this means the word of provocation; others the word that brings disquiet. The snare of the enemy is our speech — but that itself is also just as much an enemy to us. Too often we say something that our foe takes hold of, and whereby he wounds us as though by our own sword. How far better it is to perish by the sword of others than by our own! 

Accordingly the enemy tests our arms and clashes together his weapons. If he sees that I am disturbed, he implants the points of his darts, so as to raise a crop of quarrels. If I utter an unseemly word, he sets his snare. Then he puts before me the opportunity for revenge as a bait, so that in desiring to be revenged, I may put myself in the snare, and draw the death-knot tight for myself. If any one feels this enemy is near, he ought to give greater heed to his mouth, lest he make room for the enemy; but not many see him." (4.14-16)

Not Ashamed To Become Dumb

The most convicting section in his treatise is chapter 5 in which the saint warns against the temptation to return abuse. It is a just man who hides his feelings. For someone who loves the power of expression, it can be a painful prospect to remain silent when you feel the urge to retaliate or defend yourself when spoke against, like trying to hold it in when you really have to go to the bathroom. I love the expression he uses "to preserve the fruit of a good conscience...to trust himself to the judgment of good men than to the insolence of a calumniator, and to be satisfied with the stability of his own character." This is the "Is That So?" opportunity, for according to Ambrose one should keep silence even from good words, since one who has a good conscience should not be troubled by false words. I recall Cardinal Sarah seeming to institute this by his dignified and humble silence when he was maligned by detractors. How much I have to learn under the tutelage of silence.

"But we must also guard against him who can be seen, and who provokes us, and spurs us on, and exasperates us, and supplies what will excite us to licentiousness or lust. If, then, any one reviles us, irritates, stirs us up to violence, tries to make us quarrel; let us keep silence, let us not be ashamed to become dumb. For he who irritates us and does us an injury is committing sin, and wishes us to become like himself.

Certainly if you are silent, and hide your feelings, he is likely to say: Why are you silent? Speak if you dare; but you dare not, you are dumb, I have made you speechless. If you are silent, he is the more excited. He thinks himself beaten, laughed at, little thought of, and ridiculed. If you answer, he thinks he has become the victor, because he has found one like himself. For if you are silent, men will say: That man has been abusive, but this one held him in contempt. If you return the abuse, they will say: Both have been abusive. Both will be condemned, neither will be acquitted. Therefore it is his object to irritate, so that I may speak and act as he does. But it is the duty of a just man to hide his feelings and say nothing, to preserve the fruit of a good conscience, to trust himself rather to the judgment of good men than to the insolence of a calumniator, and to be satisfied with the stability of his own character. For that is: To keep silence even from good words; since one who has a good conscience ought not to be troubled by false words, nor ought he to make more of another's abuse than of the witness of his own heart.

So, then, let a man guard also his humility. If, however, he is unwilling to appear too humble, he thinks as follows, and says within himself: Am I to allow this man to despise me, and say such things to my face against me, as though I could not open my mouth before him? Why should I not also say something whereby I can grieve him? Am I to let him do me wrong, as though I were not a man, and as though I could not avenge myself? Is he to bring charges against me as though I could not bring together worse ones against him?

Whoever speaks like this is not gentle and humble, nor is he without temptation. The tempter stirs him up, and himself puts such thoughts in his heart. Often and often, too, the evil spirit employs another person, and gets him to say such things to him; but do thou set your foot firm on the rock. Although a slave should abuse, let the just man be silent, and if a weak man utter insults, let him be silent, and if a poor man should make accusations, let him not answer. These are the weapons of the just man, so that he may conquer by giving way, as those skilled in throwing the javelin are wont to conquer by giving way, and in flight to wound their pursuers with severer blows." (5.17-20)

Silence and bridling of the tongue when faced with the temptation to return calumny blow for blow is a powerful weapon. We should not underestimate the power of such temptation either, for resisting the desire for revenge and the desire to speak when we should keep silent can press against us the way a man labors against lust; he suffers for it. It burns and presses against him, promising that it will never subside until satiated. It is during these times that we must pray, trust, and resist, holding fast to Christ and following his character. A man most chaste, meek and mild, who opened not his mouth and never let an idle word come to pass and who kept silence amidst fools.

When your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat, and if he is thirsty give him water to drink. This is the "active silence" of holy resistance, the heaping of coals upon your enemy's head (Prov 25:21-22). What enemy, you might ask? Our detractors? Perhaps. But we should not overlook the Enemy lurking in our hearts, from where all evil comes (Mt 15:19; Jer 17:9).

When faced with the prospect of offending the Lord and our neighbor by our tongue and careless words, or holding the burning coal of silence in our mouth, which sears our wicked tongue and blisters our sinful mouth, we should eschew the former and embrace the latter. It is the Lord who burns us, as he did Isaiah, who accused himself of being a man of unclean lips and the Lord in response touched his lips with a red hot ember (Is 6:5-7).

"But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, 'Raca,' is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell." (Mt 5:22)

May the Lord sear our lips and seal the vault of our mouth to preserve us from blasphemy, from sin against our neighbor, and from the indictments we issue which condemn us to hell. And Lord, please start with me.