Paper Thin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep Your Focus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tammy's testimony is so moving for three reasons:

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great Divides

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please Don't Post My #death

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

-Requiem Latin Mass (a given)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and

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

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

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

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

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

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

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

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

The State Of Catholic Manhood

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People Want Abortion (Redux)

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

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

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

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

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

Scott: "Well... Oh."

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

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

People choose abortion because they want abortion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Blind Leading The Blind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between Here And There

 

A few years ago I wrote a piece for One Peter Five titled, "Halfway Through The Tunnel: Catholic Manhood In Middle Age" when I was struggling in that tough "middle-spot" approaching my mid-forties: short on time, heavy on responsibilities, and feeling like an island among men. While the piece was focused more on the worldly particulars of this state in life as married men and fathers, it left out some of the spiritual elements and struggles men my age may experience as they try to grow in virtue and live authentic Catholic lives, which is what I'd like to touch on in this post.

My wife and I were talking on the couch late last night after I had arrived home from attending a lecture on the philosophy of end-of-life at a local institute of Catholic culture. As I mentioned in a previous post, my wife is my best friend, and I feel blessed to have a loving family replete with kids and a supportive spouse to raise them with. My faith in the Lord is also steady, and He is always there for me. My work is going fine, and I have been with my employer a decade now. All the boxes are checked, and this should be all I need in my life to be fulfilled.

But my wife knows me and my particulars, and she knows I struggle with little pockets of void in which there feels like there is something missing. We started talking about the plight of men, how many like myself feel they don't have that deep abiding friendship with another man--we are like islands, our orbits revolving around "things" and activities in which we interact but in which there is a reticence to be vulnerable and reach out when they are struggling. 

As I relayed in a response to Dr. Peter Kwasniewski during one of our correspondences, the program-based men's groups and conferences have a place in the Church, but do not address this issue of this kind of elusive deep friendship and accountability I seek in another man akin to Augustine having his friend Alypius sitting with him in the garden on the precipice of his conversion during his hour of need. Or the way Christ sought his friends Peter, James and John to "stay awake with him" in the garden of his passion. These conferences are wide and shallow, as opposed to narrow and deep.  

When my wife and I were talking, though, it occurred to me that this goes beyond friendship, but to the heart of the stage I find myself in in my spiritual life. For I have tasted the sweetness of the Lord (Ps 33:9), and so the things of the world--career, notoriety, money, activities--hold no lasting appeal for me. In spiritual ignorance, men in the world can delight in and aspire to these things, even though they bring no lasting peace or joy. Because they know no alternative. The poem "Virtue" by George Herbert encapsulates this for me,

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,

The bridal of the earth and sky;

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,

For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave

Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,

A box where sweets compacted lie;

My music shows ye have your closes,

And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like season'd timber, never gives;

But though the whole world turn to coal,

Then chiefly lives.

The sweetness of virtue comes by way of acquired taste; the more virtuous we become, the more we love virtue for God's sake. The problem is, though I have acquired some virtue and some crumbs of wisdom, my lower faculties and appetites are mingled like gall with them. Augustine describes this torturous middle so accurately in Book VIII of Confessions,

"For the Church I saw to be full, and one went this way, and another that. But it was displeasing to me that I led a secular life; yea, now that my passions had ceased to excite me as of old with hopes of honour and wealth, a very grievous burden it was to undergo so great a servitude. For, compared with Your sweetness, and the beauty of Your house, which I loved, those things delighted me no longer. But still very tenaciously was I held by the love of women; nor did the apostle forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to something better, especially wishing that all men were as he himself was. 1 Corinthians 7:7 But I, being weak, made choice of the more agreeable place, and because of this alone was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and languishing with withering cares, because in other matters I was compelled, though unwilling, to agree to a married life, to which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of truth that there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake; but, says He, he that is able to receive it, let him receive it. Matthew 19:12 Vain, assuredly, are all men in whom the knowledge of God is not, and who could not, out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who is good. Wisdom 13:1 But I was no longer in that vanity; I had surmounted it, and by the united testimony of Your whole creation had found You, our Creator, and Your Word, God with You, and together with You and the Holy Ghost one God, by whom You created all things. There is yet another kind of impious men, who when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful. Romans 1:21 Into this also had I fallen; but Your right hand held me up, and bore me away, and You placed me where I might recover. For You have said to man, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; Job 28:28 and desire not to seem wise, Proverbs 3:7 because, Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. Romans 1:22 But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I had, Matthew 13:46 I ought to have bought; and I hesitated."

In the talk I attended last night, the lecturer mentioned that God created us to need one another; He could have made us self-sufficient, or only dependent on Him, but the Body of Christ--the Church and our fellow man--factors in somehow in a mysterious way, the way St. Paul writes, "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24). At no point is that yearning, that need so acute as at the hour of death; for it is there that there is no time for platitudes or shallow salutations. It is a sacred space, but also an uncomfortable one. Because the reality of death strips away the husk and chaff of superficiality, and much like at the foot of the Cross, there are few standing there in one's hour of need. If you are standing there, remember that it is a great privilege.

Maybe this is why I think about my death a lot in the spirit of memento mori--it's the ultimate unavoidable reality, the ultimate truth, the ultimate proving ground for what matters, what endures. We can long for death because of what lies on the other side, and when we are in this proverbial "limbo" between two worlds, it can be excruciating.

What I landed on was something I wrote in "If You Want To Get, You Have To Give." When God affords us wealth, time, talent or virtue, it languishes and rots when we seek to keep it to ourselves much like the manna in the wilderness. And so I have a little virtue, a little wisdom, some time and talent and I'm finding that I'm in a place where I have more to give rather than just an insatiable appetite to receive. I've been trying to seek out and pour into guys younger than myself, guys in their mid-twenties. I'm speaking at a retreat next week for young college-aged men, and have been spending time with more guys younger than myself; part of it is motivated by that void I find in my own life, "who fills my cup?" because rather than sit and lament it, I can work with what I have to give back what little I have to guys who may be just as hungry and in need as I was twenty years ago. 

And there is joy and satisfaction in that giving, because as scripture says it is better to give than to receive (Acts 20:35). It tempers the loneliness not as a panacea or the way two aspirin would mask a headache, but makes use of that loneliness and dull ache of a missing element in a constructive way and exacts the change you wish to see. That's why the best remedy by clinicians for depression is to get out of yourself and do something, anything: force yourself to take a shower, go for a run, call a friend. It's akin to jump starting a dead battery in a car; you don't throw away the battery, but ask someone to give you a jump.

As I heard in a homily once, "no one is a saint in this life," for even the would-be saints struggle through this chasm of tension between living in the world and longing for eternity. The fruit of sanctity is charity, and a mark of a true man of virtue is that he pours himself out for others even sometimes at his own expense. That is why prayer is indispensable to become a saint, because it is in prayer that our cups are filled. Prayer is a mini-death: it erodes our ego, exposes the vanity of created things that rust and moth-eaten; places us at the foot of the cross and in the garden with few companions so we are alone with Christ. It makes us realize our neediness and weakness, and strips us of the superfluous. It makes us grow to know and embrace the dark, and seek out the flicker of the candlelight of hope.

And so, I think the loneliness I feel and struggle with is not a problem to be solved, but a state to sit in. We lose the grace when we seek to resolve the tension we feel in our souls as if it were an engineering defect, and our virtue rots on the vine when we try to horde it as a pet-project of mortification. God has made us for Himself, and as Augustine famously wrote, "our hearts are restless until they rest in Him."   

Why Do We Need Theology?

In the wake of the Holy Father's latest motu proprio, many people may be wondering what the role of the discipline of Theology is in the Church today. Indeed, they are right to be suspicious given how Theology is taught in many CINO (Catholic in Name Only) academic institutions. As I wrote about in, Do I Regret My Masters Degree in Theology?, I could have been better served from reading the Baltimore Catechism and studying various papal encyclicals on my own.

However, studying Theology as a discipline did present me with the opportunity to dig deeper not just into what we believe as Catholics, but why we believe what we do--in other words, where the "rules" and teachings come from and what their source is. Of course, everything goes back to Divine Revelation as well as the "two lungs" of Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition; this is the backdrop against which all theology should be checked against. 

But life is not so black and white, and circumstances, intentions, and other mitigations can offset culpability when it comes to moral acts. This is basic catechesis here (as we see, for example, in the conditions to qualify a sin as mortal versus venial), though in the wake of a reactionary kind of "Catholic fundamentalism" that can sometimes be seen in traditionalist circles these areas of grey can make one who wants black and white answers uncomfortable. 

I think this is why priests like Fr. Ripperger and Fr. Isaac Mary Reyes have gained so much traction in these circles over the past few years. In the wake of wishy-washy moral reasoning, subjectivism, Gradualism, and "white bread" catechesis devoid of substance, these priests dish out hearty portions of substantive and unapologetic teaching that people are starving for. They also do so with a mesmerizing air of assurance so that one can hardly help but eat what they put on your plate without questioning. It's easier to say, "Fr. Ripperger said..." and point to a lecture or conference on something like Harry Potter or working outside the home and end the discussion there. It's natural that such springs of delivery would make their way to the surface because of the parched and arid environment we have been living in as Catholics since the Second Vatican Council.

But the work of Theology--much like the interior life--is just that: work. It takes time, study (and not strictly academic study), discipline, integrity, and wrestling with various issues to mature and deepen. We know that Christ is both true God and true man, but what does that really mean for us? What are its implications for us as human persons? 

For all the knocking in trad circles, St. Pope John Paul II was a theologian in the truest sense of the word, as was Pope Benedict XVI. Even if you disagree with his Personalist approach to, for example, sexual ethics, he employed the best of philosophy, moral theology, and orthodox magisterial teaching for the ends of true pastoralism. I don't think I have to say how this obviously contrasts with the approach of the current pontificate to "doing" theology.

Catholic fundamentalism, not unlike Protestant fundamentalism, seeks to settle things clearly and quickly so that one does not have to deal with the messy particulars of life and complicated moral issues. Instead, they prefer pre-packaged snack packs and one-size-fits-all dresses that apply to all people in all circumstances. And who wouldn't? It can be easier, safer, and more convenient to do so. Catechesis may be viewed in a positive light, but Theology through a lens of suspicion (given how it has been abused in the past). As Catholics, we rely on moral and magisterial teaching to be developed through the filter of learned theologians. But what do you do when those theologians can no longer be trusted or are heterodox in their reasoning?

We don't necessarily "do" theology on our own as Catholics in the way a Sola Scriptura Protestant would sit down with his Bible and interpret the Word of God on his own. But that doesn't mean we get a pass from having to wrestle with our own circumstances and moral life and work out the concrete particulars as they pertain to those instances.

Take the issue of marital foreplay. If you have three schools of interpretation with regards to, say, the role of fellatio among married persons, you may get three different answers: the Liguorians would say, "no never," the Thomists would say "no, but..." and the Personalists would say, "yes, but..." For a scrupulous person, liberty is a frightful prospect, and Augustine's "Love, and do as you will" adage is a cause for anxiety. And so when the marital bed should be a vast playground for our delight and walled in for our safety (so we don't fall off the edge into mortal sin) but instead becomes a paralyzing field of landmines to be avoided, we have missed the entire gift of marital intimacy given to us by God and instead get focused on the texture of the wrapping paper.

Theology does not live unfettered on its own, nor does it rest on either Sacred Scripture or Sacred Tradition alone either. Theology is the synthesis of moral reasoning in light of both, and lives within the walls of the safe house of magisterial teaching. We think theologically not to get puffed up as JV academics, but to live out our vocations and work out these issues with a sense of maturity. 

Just as not all are called to be mystics or religious, so not all are called to be theologians. The universal call is to holiness, not knowledge. A person can have a simple, child-like faith accepted with docility having never read anything on the topic of theology. Likewise, the most learned academic theologian can have no moral virtue in him.

Pablo Picasso had a quote attributed to him (accurate or not, I'm not sure) that went something like, "Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist." Under the tutelage of his father, he learned to paint as an academic realist and naturalist, but later in life began to experiment, moving into abstraction, earning the right. As Catholics, we are not looking to "break the rules" for their own sake, but we are called to learn what they are so that we can work out our salvation in the concrete particulars of our state of life in a way pleasing to God and avoid that which stunts our spiritual maturity (namely, sin). Theology is learning to first stay within the lines while realizing that no artist ever became a great master by sticking with paint-by-number.

I have nothing against St. Thomas or St. Alphonsus, but we have a diversity of Doctors, religious orders, charisms, and saints in the Church for a reason. Even Theology itself is not uniform, but disciplines within a Discipline (moral theology, systematic theology, mystical theology, etc). People are not one-size-fits-all, and though Divine Revelation is unchanging, our world and our circumstances are not. 

If Christ incarnate helps us make sense of who God is, and Theology is the study of God, then it is Theology which us unpack the mystery of that revelation and work out what it means to be a human being created in God's own image and how that reality is lived out. What's unfortunate is that so many theologians have not been faithful to their calling or the Church and have tainted the science by acting like teenagers rebelling against their parents. Questioning is okay. Even doubting is okay. But to the degree Theology does not comport to the Truth, it betrays its raison d'etre and becomes nothing more than another academic discipline--salt that has lost its seasoning and is not even worthy of the dunghill.