Do Not Cling To Me

 I have always struggled with the idea of impermanence. Why do people we love die? Why do friends come into our lives and then just ghost us for no good reason, or leave? Why are cities bombed and monuments destroyed? Why do things fall apart?

I think it's why I was drawn to Buddhism initially as a teenager before becoming a Christian. Impermanence--or if you like in western metaphysics, the law of entropy--is not the exception, but the rule. Tibetan Buddhists manifest this law tangibly in their creations of intricate sand mandalas that take months to create, working eight hours a day for weeks on end. Then in one final ceremony, they brush every last grain of colored sand away.

I was thinking about this this afternoon because I had been struck yet another blow at work with someone on our team leaving for greener pastures--my sixth director in five years. I felt foolish, thinking it would be different this time with this man, whom I had grown close with professionally. In a small way, I got a taste of what foster children must feel like.

When I lived and worked in the inner-city serving Christ's poor, the man who had founded the House of Hospitality told me as we were smoking cigarettes on the dilapidated back porch, "Rob, this work is hard. I pray a lot that my heart not close off and get hardened." He, too, would leave a few months later...in the dead of night, and without a word, leaving the rest of our community to figure things out on our own. 

When I meditate on the Mystery of the Ascension, I often pray, "Lord, I know you will not leave us orphans." And yet I experienced this feeling very acutely and unexpectedly when we were told the news at work. Instantly, my heart scabbed over and developed a shell. I was hurt and angry, even though I knew I shouldn't be. I didn't congratulate him on his new position; in fact, I went off camera, shell-shocked. I shouldn't have been. His position seems cursed almost, too much for one person to manage. I don't even blame him. But once again, I find myself professionally orphaned and starting once again from square one with a soon to be new direct report. This is normal in my industry; why I should think otherwise points more to my foolishness, not any fault of those who leave or get better opportunities elsewhere. 

Even though this is a professional scenario, I've been thinking too that it applies to our life as Catholics remaining in the Church. We don't have a loving shepherd for a spiritual father in the universal Church, but one that seems cold and vindictive, elevating apostates and giving audiences to heretics while he throws those prelates who are faithful to the wolves. I wrote in To Have Become Like Orphans in a text to a priest-friend, 

"All I feel is peace, because the fissures are so clearly drawn, and we have no excuse not for girding our loins for what's coming. Just because your father is passed out at the wheel doesn't mean there's not work that needs to be done and siblings who need to be fed and cared for."

Who are we to rely on? Who can we trust? The bad bishops stay in power, while the faithful ones stepping "out of line" get called into the Vatican's principal's office. Good priests get canceled, while the lukewarm and those riding out their status quo terms stick remain insulated because they don't rock the boat. We are essentially neutered as Catholics by the episcopacy. And yet the harvest which is great still needs to be gathered in, the vineyard still needs pruning. It gets tiring, because there are so few doing the work.

This idea of impermanence, however, I don't think is resigned to the East. It takes a different guise in our own tradition, but it is a universal law. 

Our Lord reassures the disciples that there is a purpose in his going back to the Father after his forty days on earth: "But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you" (Jn 16:7). 

And to Mary Magdalene after he was raised, "Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended. to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God" (Jn 20:17). 

On Mount Tabor, Peter wanted to preserve the moment of transfiguration in time, proposing to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah" (Mt 17:4). But Moses and Elijah vanish, and God the Father makes His terrible voice heard, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!" (Mt 17:5). 

Peter, who loved the Lord Christ so much, with a obstinate zeal, refused to accept his Master's death initially. "Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!”" (Mt 16:22). 

The fact that people leave, loved ones die, bosses transfer, priests get reassigned, and bishops don't have the back of the faithful should not scandalize us or lead to hurt or dejection. We should expect it. And yet, we are still human, and so it does hurt, because we attach ourselves to that which we don't want to die, leave, or end. Our suffering is proportional to our attachment, and so few of us (myself included) are perfectly detached. 

We can sometimes compensate by scabbing over our hearts to keep this hurt at bay, saying things like "I don't care," "Whatever," or "Screw them anyway." But this isn't what we are called to. It is a carnal, worldly response; and as Christians, we are not called to conform ourselves to the world. The supernatural rises above the natural. Job is a good example here of the detachment (which does not mean dispassion) that is righteous: "Naked I came from my mother's womb and naked I return there" (Job 1:21) Job cursed the day he was born, but he did not curse his Creator. 

Christian life is not a life of dispassion. You cannot love without freedom, and love involves loss as well. We don't shield or wall ourselves off from potential hurt or betrayal, because we imitate Christ who left the comforts of Heaven to debase himself in the Incarnation; was betrayed by one of his closest friends; had no where to lay his head. Our sojourn on earth is limited to a hundred years at most--a drop in the bucket compared to eternity. 

In many ways, though, it will remain a mystery to me why good things don't last, why we suffer loss after loss, and why people will leave us orphans. I've struggled with it for years, and today was a reminder that these instances touch a wound deep in my soul that I didn't even realize was there. But there is still work that needs to be done. And so our only choice is to take time to mourn it, then get back to work.

The True, The Beautiful, The Good

 I don't do promotions much at all on this blog, but I felt called to share an organization that is run by a friend's cousin up in Chicago out of St. John Cantius called the Catholic Art Institute. Her name is Kathleen Carr, and she is an amazingly talented realist painter. Her personal artist's website is here if you want to check out her body of work. This is just one example from her website:

Supporting the arts has traditionally been confined to the patronage of the wealthy, but I think our family is going to try to support them as well even with our modest means. As an artist and writer myself, it can be exhausting and grind you down that our society puts little monetary value on the arts, which adds so much to our lives, and that it can be pilfered and chewed up/spit out by a society bent on content consumption. It can also feel "frivolous" in a utilitarian, STEM-oriented culture which has little regard for beauty or nuance and gorges on a diet of pop-culture. I make almost non-existent money from my years of writing, but I don't do it full-time either, and I consider it a kind of vocation that God has charged me with and so I'm okay with that.

Most artists feel called (compelled?) to create (which is a gift from God) but are not compensated in proportion to what they offer the world. But imagine a world in which beautiful Catholic art did not exist. It would be a barren existence. Beauty is food for the soul, and beautiful art also attempts to communicate it's sisters--truth and goodness. The transcendentals of what it means to be human. 

I realize many people are struggling in this economy, but if you are a person of means who wants to see more beauty in the world and support the artists training to bring it into existence, consider supporting Kathleen's organization, the Catholic Art Institute. It would be money well spent.

 I've heard it said that King Solomon wrote Song of Songs in his youth, Proverbs in his middle years, and Ecclesiastes near the end of his life. This makes sense. Song of Songs is passionate, poetic, erotic, full of youth and vigor. Proverbs is a solid compilation of practical wisdom concerned with the nuts and bolts of living. And Ecclesiastes is the legacy capstone of the wisest man who ever lived and has experienced everything life has to offer and realizes in the end that it is all completely meaningless.

I had a young man respond to my Crisis article, Why Your Catholic Men's Group Will Eventually Fold, with an article of his own. While my reflections in that piece I wrote came from a place of mid-life disillusionment, I did not think the observations were out of line; in fact, the article seemed to have struck a nerve with various spin-offs and responses, including the one cited above in which the author (in his early twenties, I gathered) was in his "Song of Songs" phase, full of youthful idealism. I probably would have shared his sentiments, trying to make a name for himself, twenty years ago as a younger man.

But entering mid-life is a real bear. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the U-curve of happiness, hoping that the next decade will be on the upswing. My thirties--my "Proverbs phase" of the proverbial hustle-n-grind decade--now over, the specter of Solomon in his final chapters of life are peeking around the corner. 

All things are hard: man cannot explain them by word. The eye is not filled with seeing, neither is the ear filled with hearing.

I don't even know where the malaise comes from. It's not depression. It's not even necessarily discontentment. I have everything I could possibly want--not in terms of riches and wisdom, but in my wife and kids, a job that allows me to provide, and my faith. I haven't accomplished anything great. My name will be easily forgotten. But again, that is why the wisdom of Solomon in Ecclesiastes is canonical--it's not depressing or negative--it's simply the reality of the truth. Vanity of vanity, all is vanity. And I still have a lot of years left to live.

What is it that hath been? the same thing that shall be. What is it that hath been done? the same that shall be done.

In terms of the riches of human capital, I'm probably better off than most. There are a lot of guys I could call up in a time of physical need, and a strong community that we can lean on. Despite all this, I still get hit with these periodic waves of loneliness in which I realize my wide swatch of friends lacks the depth of love and fidelity that you see between David and Jonathan in 1 Samuel. 

Nothing under the sun is new, neither is any man able to say: Behold this is new: for it hath already gone before in the ages that were before us.

I'm resentful of the 'busyness' I see all around me, that everyone over schedules themselves and no one has time set aside to be wasted. I get resentful too that I'm always the one calling or texting people, but if I pull back on that and go quiet, so does my phone. I check my email hoping someone will write me, just for the sake of writing, but no one does. I get resentful of the guys that never seem to need to go beyond work and their families...why can't I be more like that? I'm tired of pouring into things, projects, people, when in the end it's all just vanity of vanities. 

There is no remembrance of former things: nor indeed of those things which hereafter are to come, shall there be any remembrance with them that shall be in the latter end. 

I'm also lonely. I have no Jonathan, and I'm no David either. I haven't learned how to be alone that well. I wish I was more like my wife--the fact that everyone wants to be friends with her, but she just wants to be alone. In my mid forties now, new things don't come easily--not friends, not skills, not reading new books or learning new things--just a weighted blanket of ennui. Even if I was granted a Jonathan in my life, I would not be worthy of him because of my self-centeredness. 

Because In much wisdom there is much indignation: and he that addeth knowledge, addeth also labour.

I pray sometimes that God will just take me sooner than later, that I don't live to be old, that I can just retire from life early, meet my Maker ahead of schedule. I worry about my wife, and my kids growing up without a father. I'll keep living for them, as long as the Lord wants from me. But it's wearisome. I'm living the cliche of the crisis, but without the accouterments. No sports car, no desire to be unfaithful, no heavy drinking, no wild shake-up. I'm sure some people would miss me when I'm gone. But then they'd get over it, of course. 

So I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

"Too Ugly For Polite Company": A Film Review of "The Sound of Freedom"

 

"What man of you that hath an hundred sheep: and if he shall lose one of them, doth he not leave the ninety-nine in the desert, and go after that which was lost, until he find it?" (Lk 15:4)

God bless Jim Caviezel. He reminds me of the leper who was healed by Jesus in Luke's gospel--one of ten but the only one to return and give glory and thanks to God (Lk 17:11-19). I think because Caviezel himself recognizes the debt that has been settled for his life, and the ransom paid in blood, is he able to return to the screen to give God the glory in his profession as an actor. He knows he is a man who was dead to sin, but saved by Christ and set free (Rom 6:11). He knows what it means to be saved.

And God bless Tim Ballard, the real life DHS agent-turned-vigilante about whom the film is based. The Sound of Freedom is tough viewing, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be viewed. And that's not because of any graphic depictions or lewdness, but simply because of the subject matter itself. Child sex trafficking is a multi billion (with a B) dollar industry that operates on the market principals of supply and demand. And the Devil's business is booming.

One of the frustrating things about being awash in societal "issues"--from climate change to cobalt mining to you name it--is that it becomes easy to paint in generalities: that somewhere out there something bad is happening, and someone is vying for our attention to "do something about it." In that sense, the producers of The Sound of Freedom are not unique in trying to mobilize action for a cause. 

But as a father myself, it was very hard to be a neutral viewer. "These are God's children," as Ballard says in the film. I don't think any father can really be a completely academic or neutral party in this nightmare. You see your own children in the faces of these poor children stolen and sold into a life of slavery of the most degrading type imaginable. "How could you sleep," the father of the two Honduran children who Ballard sets out to rescue tells him, "when you know their bed at home is empty?" The fact is, as a parent of such victimization, I don't think you ever sleep again.

That such heinous sin (let's call it what it is) passes right under our noses, day in and day out, not just here in the U.S. but in every country in the world, it may be easy to grow numb to it and feel dis-empowered. But that's where I think the film shines, because it highlights a man who could have easily said, "What difference does it make? We save one kid, and there are ninety-nine others who are lost?" Being ten months away from being vested in his government pension, it would have been easy to Ballard to settle in and do what he can from the sidelines, taking the safe and acceptable route of doing his part to fight this scourge. 

But Ballard doesn't do that. Realizing he is neutered by government bureaucracy that gives him the leverage to catch pedophiles while the child victims remain "out there somewhere" is a crisis of conscience for him. He heeds the call "not to hesitate" when called, leaves the Department of Homeland Security and teams up with some other players just outside the law to "go big or go home" in staging a faux "paradise island" as a method of entrapment for pedophile kingpins. A former cartel runner (who himself has his own dark reckoning with his past life and personal sin) and a well-financed entrepreneur form Ballard's small vigilante operations team, and lead them to rescue over fifty child sex slaves in one sting.

There is another backstage hero in this film, however, and that is Ballard's wife who fully supports this unorthodox mission: "You quit your job," she tells him, "and you go rescue those kids." With six kids of his own, and on his own deep in rebel territory in Columbia looking for a proverbial needle in a haystack (the sister of the first boy he rescues), this is no small act of faith on his wife's part. There is no one looking for this poor Honduran girl. There is no incentive, no reason, no will. Except for Ballard, her fate would be sealed and she would be completely lost. He has everything to lose. I think his wife is as invested in his mission as Ballard is.

To see the panic of Rocio and Miquel's father's face when he returns to the "talent company staging room" to pick them up only to find it empty and his children missing is utterly heartbreaking and every parent's nightmare. It is my own nightmare--not because it has happened to me, but because what's to keep it from becoming my reality? It's bad enough to know your children's beds at home are empty, but to reckon with the reality that they are being hurt or abused in some way, and you are completely powerless to help them, is a thousand times worse. And this happens to tens of thousands of children--God's children--every day, both at home and abroad. They are like lumps of coal, these victims, these child slaves, feeding the insatiable furnace of depravity that we perpetuate by our own complicity with sin. 

The sheer scale of this insatiable appetite for the corruption of innocent flesh is almost incomprehensible. The sins cry to Heaven for justice, and as Ballard quotes Matthew 18:6 in the film to one of the pedophiles "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin it would be better for him to have a great millstone hung around his neck and be cast into the sea." 

And yet many of these lost children are never found, but remain chained in slavery of the most horrible kind, their innocence crucified on a tree at the hands of vile men. For every one that is rescued, hundreds remain in bondage. This has the potential to be a great challenge to one's faith in a good and loving Father and in his only begotten Son who debased himself to come to earth and search out the one that was lost (Lk 15:4) when they remain out there, somewhere, in a dark room subjected to unspeakable traumas. 

And yet, "there is no one righteous, no not one" (Rom 3:10; Ps 14:3). Many of us are complicit in the sins of the flesh which have perpetuated this abominable slave ship, though--we fuel it not just with clicks and downloads, but by our apathy and fence-sitting in the face of such evil. Christ was utterly crushed by the weight of sin (Is 53:5)--our sin. He came to ransom us, left a comfortable Heaven to debase himself here on earth (Phil 2:7) and pay the price with his sacrifice and death (Rom 5:7-8). He was innocence itself (1 Pt 3:18).

I don't know Tim Ballard's back story, if he is a Christian or not, but I will say Jim Caviezel was the right man to play him in this role. When Tim is describing his "line of work" to someone in the film, he mentions that this reality (of sex trafficking) is "too ugly for polite company." 

And that hits home. Sin is ugly and it is real, and Christ didn't die on a cross in some removed, prim and proper manner amidst polite company. He was scourged and mocked, reviled with contempt and beaten to a pulp, among "bad men." God "got his hands dirty" to ransom us from perdition, and sacrificed his son, his only begotten son, to do it. There was no other way to bridge that divide. And if we are to imitate Christ in his life as his disciples, we cannot sit balancing on a fence. We, too, are called to get our hands dirty, sacrifice, and pay ransoms to set captives free. Whatever capacity one does that is between him and God. But he cannot be passive, cannot be neutral. 

God bless Tim Ballard for leaving the ninety-nine to seek out the lost one, and God bless Jim Caviezel for taking on this role. The Sound of Freedom deserves our support, and not as a charity case either. Though I viewed the film through the eyes of a Christian, it is not an overtly or even remotely "religious" film. It is well shot, well acted, and is a compelling if not difficult watch; well worth a trip to the theaters to see. I hope this film goes mainstream and convicts the heart of those who view it--even if the subject matter is "too ugly for polite company."     

The Shifting Axis

 Eric Sammons had a great podcast a couple weeks ago titled The Death of Catholic Apologetics? He says "the apologetics movement is losing steam...and their impact has been greatly neutered" and points to three main reasons why: 

1. An increased apathy towards religion 

    -If you don't care--aka apathy--about religion, you're not going to spend any time trying to determine what is true.

2. The Church has lost her witness

    -People may have hated the Catholic Church a hundred years ago--but people respected it. You knew what you got with it. She is now weak, with a scandalous pope that makes things that much more difficult for apologists. 

3. The fracturing of Catholicism 

    -What Catholicism do you represent? "Just Catholic" doesn't exist anymore. 

I wrote to Eric and commended him for the podcast, and also sent him my post The Time For Preaching and Teaching Are Over that I wrote three years ago, essentially saying the same thing (he declined to publish it for Crisis, although he said he enjoyed it, since it would have been too much overlap given his recent podcast on the topic). 

It's interesting times we are living in. While a spark to the powder keg of civil unrest has France burning, I'm reminded of another perceptive insight from Marine Le Pen (who lost the French presidential race to Emmanuel Macron, who was re-elected in 2022):

“There is no more left and right. The real cleavage is between the patriots and the globalists.” Macron makes the same claim: “The new political split is between those who are afraid of globalisation and those who see globalisation as an opportunity.” 

And on U.S. soil, Trump, for all his flaws, perceived this changing landscape as a political dark horse: “The future does not belong to the globalists. The future belongs to the patriots,” he told the U.N.

 

If you're a Weigelian neo-conservative still acting like it's 2003, and we're duking it out for souls with Protestants or inquiring Atheists in the internet comboxes, I'm sorry to say that ship has left the harbor. Traditionalists are the 'new kid on the block' (though, arguably, the longest-standing), the "patriots" of the Church who are willing to fight for their patrimony. They still compromise a small but growing percentage of those in the pews, but that doesn't mean they are inconsequential. They want the Faith--the TRUE Faith, not some watered-down version of it--and they live by it, the way a patriotic American would still hold to the ideals of the Constitution and believe that America is still a great country founded on noble (and proven) ideals. They need to be taken into account in the shifting landscape of the Catholic world, because they are not going away (as much as people like Michael Lofton would like them to)

Meanwhile, it would be a misnomer to tag any Pope as a "globalist," since this political nomenclature doesn't overlay on the Church very well--the Church is, by nature, global in scope and reach; she has a global dimension and mission. But it does seem that Pope Francis has more sympathies with the mindset of those in the globalist camp. 

In the aforementioned blog post, I wrote:

"What did this religious mean, "the time for preaching and teaching is over?" My first reaction when my friend mentioned it was YES. But then, why? 

Haven't the Word on Fire videos brought many spiritually curious people to intellectual assent of the faith? Haven't we been learning to make "intentional disciples" in parishes and through workshops and conferences and retreats? Haven't we been DOING something to address the "failure of catechesis"by LEARNING more about what the Church professes, TEACHING more about the truths of the Faith, EVANGELIZING by having discussions on social media with non-believers? Haven't we been preaching the good news to the poor, the imprisoned, as a kind of spiritual product to be considered to improve one's life, gain eternal life, attain peace?

I'm sorry to be so negative, but I'm in a bit of a stripped down state of being right now. The words my friend shared by the erudite religious--the time of preaching and teaching is over--point to a harsh and unsettling reality we are faced with as followers of Christ in war.

In fighting off demons of despair shooting arrows in my back, another wise friend also sent me a scripture that made me exclaim, once again, "Wow":

"And the places that have been desolate for ages shall be built in thee: thou shalt raise up the foundations of generation and generation: and thou shalt be called the repairer of the fences, turning the paths into rest" (Is 58:12).

But we are not in this state yet either, I suspect. We are in an in between. The well-produced teaching and catechetical materials, the preaching to a pagan culture--I have lived through these endeavors and been a part of them myself. I don't know how effective they are, or if they are making wrong assumptions about things. I do have a friend who makes rosaries and plants them for people with instructions on how to pray it; he does is clandestinely. Someone he knew even picked one up and considered it a sign to come back to the faith. So you never know. 

But we are not saving masses here, we are pulling stray bodies on the ark who, I'm sure, are ultimately grateful to be there. Like writing a book these days, it is, I'm afraid, ultimately futile. Not to those who have been saved, who would consider it anything but. And there is it's place--of course, we need to preach and teach when called for, one on one. But we are not going to convert the world by well-produced series on the history of Catholicism, or using any of the tools of the modern age. Those going to the front lines are getting mowed down by the culture because they are ultimately going alone with no shepherds to have their back, no critical mass to support them long term. The Steubenville degree and Thomistic defenses of Natural Law in a disordered society, I'm afraid, may not hold their weight against the breaches." 

The left-right paradigm is falling away. Republicans and Democrats are two sides of the same corrupt coin. Liberal Catholicism is a sterile ecclesialastical vasectomy of course, but even Neocons are becoming increasingly irrelevant post JP2. Traditional Catholics may have more in common with Orthodox Jews and fired up Muslim parents in the culture war than with lukewarm CINO's. 

The 18th century American "experiment" worked because people believed in the ideals and fought for them. But it wasn't a guarantee, as we are seeing that an immoral society divorced from virtue has no claim to its fruit. Alexis de Tocqueville, the French political thinker and historian, traveled to America in 1831 on behalf of the French government to examine the penal system and report back on what he learned. Tocqueville marveled at the flourishing American democracy at that time, recognizing that the uniqueness of such a system depended on a liberty "which cannot be established without morality, nor without faith." 

I used to think globalism was a made-up thing, until the World Economic Forum basically laid it all out in the open: You will own nothing and be happy. In other words, the Great Reset is not some Orwellian fiction: IT'S RIGHT THERE (HERE). Read them. If these ideals seem at odd with the freedom of the Christian and fill you with dread, you may not be a globalist in your heart of hearts. And if you oppose the ideals of globalism or if you think to yourself "this doesn't seem right," prepare to be humiliated, the way LGBT activists will humiliate those who oppose their ideology, the way Communist governments seek to humiliate those who oppose it. Prepare to be called a "far-right nationalist" or something similar. The incisive words of Theodore Dalrymple should then sear into your subconscious to draw on when the gaslighting gets especially bad and you start to second-guess yourself:

"Political correctness is communist propaganda writ small. In my study of communist societies, I came to the conclusion that the purpose of communist propaganda was not to persuade or convince, nor to inform, but to humiliate; and therefore, the less it corresponded to reality the better. When people are forced to remain silent when they are being told the most obvious lies, or even worse when they are forced to repeat the lies themselves, they lose once and for all their sense of probity. To assent to obvious lies is to co-operate with evil, and in some small way to become evil oneself. One’s standing to resist anything is thus eroded, and even destroyed. A society of emasculated liars is easy to control. I think if you examine political correctness, it has the same effect and is intended to."

 Just as those who truly believe in the tenants of the Faith of our fathers, Tradition, the depositum fidei, and live by it will be the future rebuilding of the Church from the ashes, as prophesied by Cardinal Ratzinger. It betrays the contempt those within the Church who are lukewarm or who do not believe as to why they hate traditionalists. The axis has shifted...as it has throughout history, and I'm not sure how long this center can hold both in the nation and in the Church herself before the Antichrist comes. 

Tell The World About The TLM. But Let's Keep Homeschooling Our Little Secret

 

I've always considered myself a more-or-less "evangelical Catholic." I was radically saved by grace, and I'm always quick to want to show other beggars where the bread is. Because I'm grateful. When you love something, you want others to know about it. We don't hide Christ under a bushel basket (Mt 5:15)

This has extended to my liturgical leanings with regards to Catholic Tradition and how the Latin Mass has buyoued our faith and the expression of it in worship. I tell people about it, I encourage people to explore it, I invite people to Mass with us the same way a family did for us years ago. As I see it, Tradition and Charity are a force for renewal in the Church. I know there are probably factions that want to keep it the best kept secret in the Church, but I don't think that's the way forward. This is a good thing that people need to know about, and then make their own choices about. From 1998 to just five years ago, I didn't even know it existed. I think that's starting to change.

Attending the Latin Mass and homeschooling have always seemed to me like two sides of the same coin. But I am not so evangelistic about homeschooling. It has been a huge blessing to us, and I feel blessed we were led to educate our children from home. They are well adjusted, VERY well socialized, and learning what they need to learn in an efficient manner that leaves plenty of room for play. I didn't always feel this way, and was pretty resistant to the idea at first. But the fruits have been apparent. 

I do not feel the need, however, to tell everyone about how great homeschooling is. If anything, I want to keep it on the DL. This is mostly because the more it gets on the government's radar, the more I worry about government interference. Just leave us alone and give us the liberty to educate our children. Many pioneer homeschoolers worked hard to ensure that laws were amenable to homeschooling when it was just a blip on the societal screen. Now that it is becoming more common and mainstream, I worry that the government will ruin it like all good things with over-regulation or controlling what we can and can't do as parents. 

I pay my school tax bill (which is substantial) and don't use any of the public school services. That's fine, whatever, just leave us alone and let us file our initial affidavit and yearly evaluation and stay out of our business. Our children are doing fine, great even. I can't imagine sending them to a government school at this point, and the meager fruits of Catholic education make that a non-starter for our family as well. 

I'll continue to advocate for the Latin Mass and Catholic Tradition, because it bears good fruit and should be normative, not some scorned leper within the "synodal" Church. But homeschooling? It is literally the best kept secret that I feel no need to shout from the rooftops about. I'm glad more people are discovering it, but just maybe be discerning in who you tell about it, huh? I'm sure the government and school districts have noticed by now, but no need to poke sleeping giants.

The Book Of Little Favors

 

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” 

(Mt 17:20-21)

Anyone can have faith. It doesn't require any capital, nor social standing, nor skills or credentials, and doesn't depend on your class or caste. What faith requires is love and trust in a good and loving God who is in control of everything and who wants to fill our cup to overflowing (Ps 23:5), and who will not give us a stone when we ask for bread (Mt 7:9-11). Faith is a gift that is freely given to those who humbly ask for it. 

I really should at this point start a separate tag for miracle stories. God is so good to us, but also to our friends who we pray for who ask for divine favors. From houses to jobs to lawsuits to injuries to the grace of a happy death, the good Lord, his Mother and his saints have come through for us in both big and little ways.

So far, we had:

-lawsuit miracle (St. Jude), 2009

-housing miracle (St. Joseph), 2015

-conversion and baby miracle (Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal; St. Catherine Laboure), 2018

-injury related miracle (SOG Francis Houle), 2019 

-injury related miracle (friend's son) (SOG Francis Houle), 2022

-grace of a happy death (St. Mary Margaret Alacoque), 2022

-job miracle for a friend (St. Joseph the Worker) 2023

-conversion miracle, cancer miracle (SOG Francis Houle), 2023

Now, these are miracles to us. They may not have the Vatican investigating the details, but for our family and friends, it is enough, and a memorial altar to buoy our faith (Joshua 4:1-7). We know God was working in these situations by our faith and trust in His power

The latest is a neat story of a friend who asked for prayers while I was at the relic chapel on behalf of a friend of hers who was in a tough spot and needed help. She texted me:

"My friend B.--her son is a first year seminarian with the ICKSP in Italy. They have tickets to fly over for his cassock ceremony next week (have never been overseas and miss their son) and their passport application hasn't gone through. It's down to the wire and not looking good but for divine intervention."

Yikes! I promised to pray for the intercession of St. Francis Paola, one of the many saints whose relic was present where I was praying last week. He was Italian, and a mighty intercessor to the point where it was kind of ridiculous how many miracles he worked. 

I also remembered, though, an article I had read about Mother Teresa's "Flying Novena", a consecutive ten-Memorare prayer (nine Memoraes in a row, plus a tenth "thank you in advance for answering this prayer" added to the end, so great was her faith in Our Lady's intercession. Anyway, this was a good and faithful modified-novena for time sensitive emergencies, so it seemed perfect. Plus, it seemed applicable to the passport situation for my friend's friend, given that in the NC Register article a priest told the story:

Impossible Becomes Possible

Mother Teresa “definitely inspired the same devotion in her sisters, but also in others,” Father Kolodiejchuk affirmed.

Father Louis Merosne, newly appointed pastor at St. Anne’s Cathedral in Anse-à-Veau, Haiti, had his own amazing experience with the Flying Novena. Once he had planned to join the Missionaries of Charity priests, had been accepted, and spent two years with them in Mexico before he said God made it clear he was to serve in Haiti instead. Active with youth and young adult conferences such as at Franciscan University in Steubenville, in 2008 he was going to World Youth Day in Sydney, Australia. On his return he was to have one-day stop in Boston, then catch a flight to the Netherlands where he was to speak at a conference.

“I went to the consulate in Boston to apply for their visa,” he said. “They told me I would have to leave my passport in order to put the visa on it. I couldn’t because I had to leave for Sydney.” Boston insisted the central office could not process anything until they had his passport. “I told them I’m going to the Netherlands and I had one day in between my two travels. They said, Sorry.”

Calling from Sydney about the visa, he got a surprise. “They told me, by the way, they don’t do urgent, express applications. They need at least two weeks once they get the passport.”  He told them the conference would be over by then. “Sorry.”

Returning to Boston, he took an early train to New York City where the main consulate office was. He continued, “I went to the office to explain the situation again, but they said, ‘You can leave your passport and pick it up in two weeks. We’re very sorry.’”

This was the day he was to travel to the Netherlands, and he had to get back to Boston board his booked flight that evening which would then fly back to New York on the first of two legs to the Netherlands.

“Maybe if I call the airline, they would allow me to get on at New York for the Netherlands flight,” he thought. The airline’s answer? “No, we don’t do that. If you don’t get on your flight in Boston, you’re entire flight will be cancelled. You cannot get on in New York.”

Still in the consulate, he called the airlines a second time hoping to find a sympathetic listener. But he again he was told the airline could not cancel one leg of the flight.

At that point Father Merosne knew it was time to say a Flying Novena. He said, “Only you, Blessed Mother, can help me do this if it is God’s will. I said the novena.

Shortly after he finished, “the representative from the consulate called me over and said, ‘Give me your passport.’ And within minutes I had my visa! And I called the airlines a third time, and this time the lady said, ‘We don’t do this, but we’ll de this once for you. Get in the plane in New York.’”

“Once I said that [Flying] Novena, it was all over for them,” Father Merosne said with a much joy. “That which was impossible for man was quite possible for our Blessed Mother.”

“I am a believer,” he said of the Flying Novena.

There is a saint for every situation, someone who understands and is close to you, and God can do anything. We should always pray with sincere trust and not doubt. And we should always pray that it is in accordance with His divine will.

"But when you pray, you must believe and not doubt at all. Whoever doubts is like a wave in the sea that is driven and blown about by the wind. If you are like that, unable to make up your mind and undecided in all you do, you must not think that you will receive anything from the Lord." (Ja 1:6-8)

I figured if our Lord wanted them on that plane with passport in hand, Our Lady could make it happen. If for whatever reason He didn't, there would be good reason--maybe the plane would crash in the ocean and He wanted to save them from that fate! Whatever His will, God sees all things, while we only see through a glass darkly (1 Cor 13:12). 

Case in point from St. Alphonsus:

"There is a similar account by Surio to the effect that a certain blind man obtained the restoration of his sight by praying to St. Bedasto, bishop. Thinking the matter over, he prayed again to his heavenly patron, but this time with the purpose that if the possession of his sight were not expedient for his soul, that his blindness should return. And that is exactly what happened -- he was blind again. Therefore, in sickness it is better that we seek neither sickness nor health, but that we abandon ourselves to the will of God so that he may dispose of us as he wishes. However, if we decide to ask for health, let us do so at least always resigned and with the proviso that our bodily health may be conducive to the health of our soul. Otherwise our prayer will be defective and will remain unheard because our Lord does not answer prayers made without resignation to his holy will. Sickness is the acid test of spirituality, because it discloses whether our virtue is real or sham." (Uniformity With God's Will)

Anyway, I made a point to tell my friend that I would pray the Flying Novena will full confidence, and also to St. Francis Paola, but that I wanted her to please inform me of the outcome of her friend's situation so we could give glory to God for the intercession.

Wouldn't you know, Our Lady came through, and the divine favor of St. Mother Teresa and St. Francis Paola (I don't know who to attribute to, so thank you both!) came through in the clutch.

God is good! We need to have faith, and we need to give glory to God and tell these stories. We don't seek miracles for our own sakes completely (there's always some of that), but for the glory of God who intercedes for us with his saints and Mother. And we need to pray and have faith, because it is impossible to please God without faith (Heb 11:6). It is pleasing to God when we trust Him that no matter what the outcome of a desired situation, we thank Him in advance and give Him glory for what He can and will do.

And if you're ever in a tight spot, maybe consider that Flying Novena of Mother Teresa's. I'd like to say I'm surprised--but I've experienced God's grace and miraculous intercession so much that there is a part of me that isn't!

Thank you again, Our Lady, St. Teresa of Calcutta, and St. Francis Paola. Glory to God!

You're Not A Trad

 

This post may be a bit of a stretch, but I'm going to write it anyway because it's been on my mind and because I have a habit of taking two or more seemingly incongruent topics and tying them together somehow so you're left saying, "Hm. Well that's one way to look at it." Ha. Bear with me, though, because there will be a few random floating observations and things floating around in the beginning.

Point 1

After spending five days on retreat in blissful silence at a proverbial trad "band camp" last week, I ended up experiencing some symptoms of liturgical indigestion when I attended a local men's conference I was invited to and gifted a free ticket for the day after I returned home. I arrived at the retreat center around sunrise to start the day with Adoration (which was a good start); there was a sizable crowd of men as well. Ok, so far so good.

After an hour of adoration, it was time for Mass. The celebrant was I guess some kind of well-known rockstar priest who had a penchant for being "hardcore" about some things. It was still early in the morning, and I was a little thrown off by his antics on the altar, which included a loud homily about "people who assume the posture of holiness really aren't," and how he feels that people who "act holy" are "hiding something." During the Our Father, he also abruptly stopped and chastised the men for "saying it too fast." He forced us through a slowed-down, deliberate way of saying it. I guess it bothered him, and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whatever, I guess?

This is not the first time I've experienced a 'showman' priest; in college, we had a (probably gay) priest from the local abbey who would get theatrical and make himself the center of attention. Another priest after college at the church I attended would use the Mass as a "teaching opportunity," which was well intentioned but felt disruptive. In both these instances, and at this men's conference, I felt like the versus populum orientation of the New Mass feeds into this kind of priestly narcissism. I also feel like because of the deficiencies of the New Mass vs. the Vetus Ordo, the priests celebrating the Novus Ordo can overcompensate with loud homilies and liturgical ad-libs because, well, they can. What I have grown to love about the traditional Mass is that the priest simply disappears. 

The Mass concluded with some truly awful OCP hymns; it struck me that the N.O is by nature much more feminized, even when there were no women present; it brought back memories of the strange embarrassment I felt when it came to the hymns especially while at Mass. Now granted, there were a lot of Boomer generation men there, so it's probably what they're used to.

All this to say, for the rest of the day when I got home, I felt a kind of 'spiritual indigestion' from what was just par for the course each Sunday in your standard suburban parish.  The Latin Mass has officially ruined me.

Point 2

When my wife and I were making every last effort to avoid yet another miscarriage after the birth of our third, we were referred to a fairly well-known Catholic pro-life doctor who was said to be able to help with fertility issues. The reality is that at this time my wife was already in her mid-forties and the chance of conceiving and bringing a pregnancy to term were slim (though not altogether impossible). This doctor immediately prescribed a no caffeine, no dairy, no meat, etc etc. diet, which I thought, "ok, this is a little quacky but whatever"). 

Years ago I had a bad experience with a Facebook acquaintance who was just trying to be helpful when it came to fertility issues, saying "avoid this, use this, don't do this..." Mind you, she had no medical credentials whatsoever, just struggled with infertility herself so I think it was personal for her. My wife was already in a kind of sensitive state, and though I suggested some of these things for her, I immediately regretted it--because then it becomes if you have another miscarriage, it's because you didn't do x, y, and z.. My wife doesn't deserve that kind of psychological sabotaging...it's hard enough losing a baby even without second-guessing yourself as to why. For the same reason I resented this doctor's insistence on some unfounded diet--95% of the issue, I think, was that my dear wife was simply in her mid forties and the chance of pregnancy (especially taking to full term) was slim. She kind of did the diet, the progesterone pills, etc for a few months and then because it sucked, just reintroduced all the no-no's and got back to our life.

Point 3

Every time we go to a Catholic gathering, somebody is bringing Gluten Free this-or-that. I don't know why. They are not in the 1% of people who have Celiac disease, but rather the 33% of Americans who are trying to eliminate gluten from their diet (for whatever reason). I think there is this belief that gluten is "bad" and that it contributes to either behavior or other health-related issues, but that doesn't really have any scientific evidence for. I have no idea. All I know is I love gluten and like most people, have no aversion to it. But GF is to the 2020s what the lowfat Snackwells craze was to the 90's.

I imagine people who truly do have a gluten allergy like celiac disease are happy people are bringing gluten intolerance into the public consciousness and making every restaurant chef hate his life, because now they have more choice, more options when they go out to eat or to the grocery store. 

Synthesizing Points 1, 2, and 3.

Ok, here's the thing: True Traditionalists are the liturgical Celiac sufferers; myself and most people I know who attend the TLM are like the 33% of the population who claim to need to be Gluten Free because somewhere we heard on the internet gluten=bad. 

A true Traditionalist will walk out of a Mass if they find out it is the Novus Ordo, or just not attend a funeral Mass or wedding Mass (or not receive communion), and will never attend the New Mass, ever. Call it a liturgical allergy or whatever--I'm not judging it, just observing. At least they are consistent.

The rest of us have a strong preference for the TLM, but if push came to shove we wouldn't stay home and pray our rosary if the Novus Ordo was the only option while traveling or whatever. We might have to suppress a groan-reflex while there, but we're not breaking out in hives or rupturing the lining of our stomachs, either. We wouldn't even have that option were it not those one-percenter trads that paved the way for what we enjoy on the menu now.  

I have at least been consistent in never claiming to be a Traditionalist, despite being 'traditional' or 'trad-sympathetic' or 'trad-leaning' or whatever you want to call it. I'm fine with that, and honest about it. I also find it annoying when people have some kind of axe to grind with Traditionalists, or are trying to make a name for themselves in the Catholic, Inc world by making strawmen arguments against tradition.

Because for a true Trad, I think there is a line in the sand you simply won't step over, and that is the line between the novus ordo and the vetus ordo. Although I find the novus ordo gives me liturgical indigestion, I'm not allergic. If you're starving on a desert island, your "gluten free" claims and preferences may quickly go the wayside if all you find is bread. Likewise, as I've written, the Novus Ordo may one day save your life. My attitude? I'm in desperate need of grace, and I'll take it wherever I can get it. And there is grace wherever the Lord is present. And He is indeed present in the New Mass.  If you'd "rather die" than attend the New Mass...well, that's on you I suppose. 

The Safe House

 

*Note: I am back from retreat. Thank you for your prayers, they were efficacious. Many graces, and one small miracle as well. I am still letting things digest, and as we spent five days keeping silence and meditating often on the nature of the Mother of God, I would like to just imitate our Mother in the way she "kept all these words, and pondered them in her heart" (Lk 2:19-20 DRV). 

I am indebted to Dom Pius Mary Noonan, OSB, who flew over from Australia to offer this retreat for men, offered the Latin Mass daily, and made himself available for spiritual direction throughout the week to the 24 men who were there to "be broken apart, and put back together again" in the Lord's school of charity. The monk's budding monastery, Notre Dame Priory in Tasmania, is a traditional order of Benedictines very much worth supporting if you are able and feel called to do so, as they could truly use the financial help; if inclined, you may donate here. 

While I'm going to keep the particulars of my retreat to myself (for now, at least), I would like to share a little bit about something tangential I experienced this past week:

Off country road 274 in western Ohio two Churches converge. Not two local parishes, nor two physical structures even, but the meeting of the universal Church Militant and the Church Triumphant. The day I arrived to the Relic Chapel in the unincorporated town of Maria Stein, I was the only one representing the Church Militant--alone among the remains of 500+ friends who has walked the same path I found myself on, and who have won the crown of victory in the heavenly court (1 Cor 9:25).

I had driven six hundred miles to attend a retreat in the middle of corn and soybean fields near the Indiana border for the week and wasn't even aware that a quarter mile walk from where I was staying would take me to the second largest collection of holy relics in the United States. I really do think I was being led there by the Holy Spirit, as I was sitting outside on a bench in the middle of a clearing, struggling with something particular to my spiritual battle and feeling besieged by the Devil (who probably wasn't happy I was there), and just felt like wandering over to what I thought was just a church down the way to kill time in between sessions.

When I came to the brick church, there was a sign that said Relic Chapel, and the heavy wooden door was ajar. I curiously opened it and walked inside and was completely blown away. 

The space itself was small, maybe 30' by 30' but it was packed with the bones, clothing, and other remnants of literally almost every single holy heavy hitter in the course of Church history: 1,200 in all, including fragments of the True Cross. I had never been to something with holiness so...concentrated before. 

I knelt down on the wood floor and got to work on asking each saint represented there, by name, for special favors for those who needed them. There as an alphabetical guide of all the saints' relics that were represented, so I started with the "A's" and ended with the "Z's". It took me 20 minutes or so all in all to ask every single one for these intentions, just to cover my bases: "St. Abdon, martyr, pray for us. St. Abinius, pray for us. St. Abundus, pray for us...and so on and so on."

Now, I hate museums, and I'm not big on books either. But holy scripture is not dead letters on a page, but God alive in the Word. And this was no 'museum' in the secular sense, but a powerhouse of living holiness, if felt like. The relics of all my favs were here: St. Agnes, St. Benedict Joseph Labre, St. Antony, St. Benedict, St. Charbel...you'd be harder pressed to find a holy man or woman in history who wasn't represented or present. Because Satan was working hard on me over the past week, pummeling me at night and during the days, this chapel felt like a safe house of sorts, where he literally couldn't stand to be because my holy friends were protecting and surrounding me.  

What was strange was I was so excited, like I found an unclaimed treasure chest that washed up while at the beach for the weekend--and the place was empty! Why? Why weren't there busloads of pilgrims, people flying in from all over the country and world, to venerate and pray here? Did they not know it existed? 

In holy scripture, we see the sick and suffering healed who merely fell within Peter's shadow passing by (Acts 5:15). To expect that these friends in Heaven can and do want to intercede for us through divine favor is not only biblical, but congruent with one's faith in God, His saints, and His Church. I just couldn't believe it wasn't standing room only. What a divine privilege to be there alone, among so many friends and heroes. 

But then, why should I be surprised? This is human nature. We have the privilege of keeping watch with our Lord in Eucharistic Adoration less than ten minutes from our homes, and rather than being standing room only, there are empty hours. The Lord's best friends fell asleep on him in his hour of need, and all those who yelled Hosanna! on Palm Sunday have left him alone or lost interest. The road of discipleship can be so sparsely traveled that you get excited when you meet another disciple on the way, one who gets it, who has a burning heart to talk with zeal about the Messiah and the salvation of mankind (Lk 24:13-35).

I feel like an elementary school kid in these situations--I take Christ as his word, that anyone who prays and does not doubt can throw mountains into the sea, raise the dead, experience the same miracles that were happening 2,000 years ago when he walked the earth before he ascended into Heaven, leaving us these breadcrumbs of the fallen soldiers mowed down by the Romans or other hostile empires. It's like a secret nobody gets or cares about--yes, a pearl of great price that you find and run home to withdraw everything you have in the bank to buy it. 

I went back each day of my retreat, and each day I was the only one there. I spent the twenty minutes praying A-Z each saint by name for favors, for faith, for friends, for miracles so that the world might know that Jesus Christ is King and Lord, and LIVES (Col 1:17). Yes, work a miracle brothers and sisters for the glory of Christ's name. 

When you think about it, though, it can sometimes be easier to travel 10 hours by car to some random chapel in the middle of cornfields, or to fly to Lourdes seeking a healing, or touch the glove of Padre Pio, than it may be to cultivate the faith living in our hearts and commune with the Lord made truly present in the Eucharist at our local parish at holy Mass or in Eucharistic adoration. The relics we venerate are holy because Christ is holy, and the bones and scraps of fabric connect us to him. But we are in not shortage of opportunities to be intimate not in the 2nd or 3rd degree with Christ, but every time we receive Holy Communion is a pilgrimage of the heart. You literally cannot get any closer and more intimate with the Lord than you do when you receive him into your body. You can visit him in the flesh anytime at your local adoration chapel as well. 

Relics are awesome, like visiting old friends. It's more than just a museum, but a safe house where you can talk shop with your friends. But the Lord has not hidden himself. He is in plain view, in ordinary guise--bread and wine--just down the street from you. 

We think spiritual direction with a wise director is something complicated or in-depth. Often, it's the opposite. Over the course of five days, when I would meet daily with the Abbot Father, I would pour out the consolations and struggle mightily under the desolation. I would dig deep and scour the corners of my soul to bring the dust into the light, only to be met with rather ordinary and commonplace advice/direction: "ask Our Lady to help you;" "pray to your guardian angel;" "commit to mental prayer." Because I'm only at the lower rungs of the ladder of divine ascent, it's not spiritual brain surgery here. But the Dom's advice was spot on. I prayed sincerely for a particular grace (because he told me to), and the Lord unequivocally and unmistakably provided it. I asked Our Lady to help me conquer a vice, and lo and behold, the vice was conquered. Just like that. 

Faith is simple; we make it more complicated than it has to be. It is a gift, freely given when asked for in humility and without doubting. The week on retreat with these twenty three other guys was like being a schoolchild, an inmate, a cadet, and a novice all at once. We were doing the hard work of discipline under the deft guidance of the Dom for a limited amount of time, so we can learn to love better, pray better, serve better, and become holy. 

If we do not become saints it is not because the Lord withholds anything from us to make that possible. It's because we do not will it and want it enough.And what else is there in this life than to become a saint? Nothing! It is only thing that matters. We have evidence--in the relics we venerate, in the stories we read--that men and women just like us have gone before and received the crown. So, the only thing stopping us from joining them is not God, nor our sin, nor our weakness or past, nor the Devil, nor our family. It is ourselves! 

When I got home my wife told me the sad story of the billionaires that recently went on a $250,000 submarine ride to see the remnants of the Titanic, and all died. Tragic. All I could think of when she told me was, "all that money, and they still died like anyone else, albeit in the middle of the ocean." It wasn't able to help one as much as you might think it could, I suppose. And they too, like many of us, will be soon forgotten. For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten (Eccl 9:5). May God have mercy on them, as they are now coming before the throne at their particular judgment and like all of us, will give an account of their lives (Lk 16:19-31)

So commit to Christ, to the work, to the suffering which is not without joy, that maybe one day a piece of our tee-shirts or a fragment of our fingernail might hang on a wall in some obscure church somewhere, to help give encouragement and friendship and favor to the next wave of cadets in the Lord's school of charity. The only thing stopping you from joining the alphabetical list of saints, is you.

 

Please pray for me while I am on retreat this week, and I will pray for you! I will be offline all week.

“Who can discern their errors? Show me my hidden sins” Ps 19:12

Photo: St Leo’s Oratory (ICKSP), Columbus, Ohio where I stopped for my Mass today on my drive out.