Left At The Altar

My wife and I were joking yesterday about how compatible we are given that we are, well, almost complete opposites. We complement each other in that way, and fill in for each other's deficiencies like spackle puttied into nail holes in the drywall of life.

The topic du jour was environmental awareness. I am hyper aware of my surroundings--noises, people, energy (both good and bad), knowing where the exits are at parties, etc. My wife on the other hand is generally oblivious to such things. We've speculated that our differences in birth order contribute to this. 

As the youngest of four, my wife was used to having to wait for things, and was generally taken care of growing up. As a result she is very patient, and she also doesn't understand why the socks she leaves at the foot of the bed are still there the next morning rather than in the hamper where they belong. She also doesn't get worked up about things. Once when she was little her parents took her and her siblings out to eat at a pizza parlor. When they were finished they left, forgetting her at the restaurant. No one realized it until they got home, at which point her dad rushed back to get her. She never made a peep; she just sat wondering where they had gone. 

As the oldest of three boys, I am used to taking on the weight of the world's problems and having to be responsible for everything, which makes me prone to anxiety. Growing up, I was hyper-sensitive to even the slightest relational and familial discord, and part of that was magnified by living with a parent with bi-polar disorder (my father). If things were 'off'--if my dad and I had had some kind of strain in our relationship, or some kind of emotional tension, or he was unwell and we had to walk on eggshells...it was hard to rest until it was resolved. Thankfully we have a good relationship, but it's always apparent when something has not been dealt with between us. It won't be long before it comes up and, ultimately, put to rest.

Now it's my turn to be the bi-polar dad, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with my progeny, my firstborn. My son is emotionally sensitive, a very neat, astute, and affable boy who is, like his father, hyper attuned to things being right and in harmony between us. He wants to be like daddy. If he feels I am angry with him, or if he in turn is angry and throwing fits, he can't rest until things are made right. He pushes you away when he really wants a hug, and, amazingly, he is aware of this pattern in himself as well. I see it because I am the same way, and I know how complicated those emotions can get. My wife is baffled by it, but she's learning.

We do our best to always resolve such issues before falling asleep, taking to heart St. Paul's admonition in Ephesians 4:26 not to let the sun go down on one's wrath. On the occasions when he has fallen asleep, exhausted from a fit of stubborn anger, he is like a computer put in hibernate or standby mode--as soon as he wakes up, his emotional state kicks right back into where it left off. 

St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 16 on the Gospel of Matthew, makes notes that the night is not our friend in this regard:

"For much as Christ by this argument of the sacrifice, so there Paul by that of the day, is urging us on to the self-same point. Because in truth he fears the night, lest it overtake him that is smitten alone, and make the wound greater. For whereas in the day there are many to distract, and draw him off; in the night, when he is alone, and is thinking it over by himself, the waves swell, and the storm becomes greater. Therefore Paul, you see, to prevent this, would fain commit him to the night already reconciled, that the devil may after that have no opportunity, from his solitude, to rekindle the furnace of his wrath, and make it fiercer."

Where this issue of reconciliation becomes especially pertinent is before Mass. We have had some blow ups before Mass, times when he has been in the wrong, and times where I have to be the one asking forgiveness.

Case in point: we had one of these episodes last week before Sunday Mass, and didn't have time to deal with it beforehand. I like to pray the rosary in the pew if we get to the church early enough, and invite the kids to join in with me. But something about praying when you have unforgiveness in your heart--whether its towards your son, your father, your wife, or a stranger--feels rotten and moldy, not to mention hypocritical. It becomes a kind of outward pious action when the inside is dead men's bones (Mt 23:27), an unholy oblation.

Not much keeps me from receiving the Lord in the Eucharist these days. I take to heart the words of St. Paul who says that we eat and drink condemnation on ourselves when we eat and drink in an unworthy manner (1 Cor 11:29). If I have committed a mortal sin, of course the need for the Sacrament of Penance prior to Communion is warranted. But I also know the Devil can use scruples against us to keep us from the Lord when it comes to less serious sins.

However, there are times when I am convicted not to receive Communion, and those are the times when I have anger in my heart, and a stubborn unforgiveness towards someone, that has not been reconciled.

We read in Matthew's Gospel where our Lord says:

“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift." (Mt 5:23-24)

St. John Chrysostom, again, expounds on this exegetically much better than I can:

"Yea, for this cause He said not, "after the offering," or "before the offering"; but, while the very gift lies there, and when the sacrifice is already beginning, He sends you to be reconciled to your brother; and neither after removing that which lies before us, nor before presenting the gift, but while it lies in the midst, He bids you hasten there. 

With what motive then does He command so to do, and wherefore? These two ends, as it appears to me, He is hereby shadowing out and providing for. First, as I have said, His will is to point out that He highly values charity, and considers it to be the greatest sacrifice: and that without it He does not receive even that other; next, He is imposing such a necessity of reconciliation, as admits of no excuse. For whoever has been charged not to offer before he be reconciled, will hasten, if not for love of his neighbor, yet, that this may not lie unconsecrated, to run unto him who has been grieved, and do away the enmity. For this cause He has also expressed it all most significantly, to alarm and thoroughly to awaken him. Thus, when He had said, Leave your gift, He stayed not at this, but added, before the altar (by the very place again causing him to shudder); and go away. And He said not merely, Go away, but He added, first, and then come and offer your gift. By all these things making it manifest, that this table receives not them that are at enmity with each other."

St. John Chrysostom notes that charity is the greatest sacrifice. The Catechism notes that charity is superior to all the virtues (CCC 1826). 1 Cor 13:13 is where we often hear of the virtue of "faith, hope, and love," but that the Greek term used is agape, or selfless love. Charity is the love of God and the love of neighbor for the sake of God. When you think of an altar, there is a liturgical/religious connotation. The altar is not the place where we gather around as brothers and sisters, holding hands and breaking bread together in a common meal (except maybe in instances of egregious liturgical abuse). The altar is primarily the place of sacrifice, and it is about God.

And yet, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit," one He will not despise (Ps 51:17). "I desire mercy, not sacrifice," says the Lord (Hos 6:6). St. James writes of pure and undefiled religion as caring for widows and orphans in their affliction (James 1:27). And St. John recognizes anyone as a liar who say they love God but do not love his brother or sister (1 Jn 4:20). And

Your conscience knows when things are not right between you and a spouse, a child, a parent, or a friend. Charity demands we not hesitate, that we leave our gift "lie in the midst" to attend to the work of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation. It becomes our sacrifice, one pleasing to the Lord. Any gift or offering we bring without attending to this first is noxious to Him.

Before the sun goes down, reconcile to those whom you have wronged and seek forgiveness, and to those who have wronged you, forgive them. Charity, an oblation perfect and pleasing and to God, demands it.

"Daddy, Why Can't I Stop Sinning?" And Other Conversations

"Daddy, why can't I stop sinning?" my seven year old asked me this evening. He wasn't overly upset, but was clearly wrestling with something.

"What do you mean, son?" I asked.

"I mean, I keep on doing bad things. I say bad things to Mommy, and even to God, when I get angry. Even in my mind. And it's like I can't stop."

I asked him to come over and sit on my lap. "Do you remember what happened in the Garden of Eden?" I asked him.

"Satan tricked Adam and Eve," he replied.

"Yes, and do you remember what that sin that we inherited from them was called?" I asked.

"Original Sin," he replied.

"Yes, that's right. That's why we need the grace that comes in Baptism, to wash away Original Sin."

"But then why do I keep on sinning?" he asked, with a quiver. "Why do I keep offending God?"

"Well, even though we baptism takes away Original Sin and the punishment due to sin, we still have a big word called concupiscence. The effect of Original Sin, why we do bad things, remains. That was the consequence of Adam's sin, that we have to deal with in our lives. Do you want to read some scripture to learn more about concupiscence?"

[Nods]

"This is from St. Paul's letter to the Romans":

"For we know that the Law is spiritual, but I am of flesh, sold into bondage to sin. For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. But if I do the very thing I do not want to do, I agree with the Law, confessing that the Law is good. So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. But if I am doing the very thing I do not want, I am no longer the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me.

I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, on the one hand I myself with my mind am serving the law of God, but on the other, with my flesh the law of sin" (Rom 7:14-25).

"You see, we all sin. Mommy sins and Daddy sins, and you sin too. But we have a Savior who died for us so that we don't have to suffer the punishment of Hell that we inherited from Adam. He gives us the grace to resist sin, but in our weakness we fall. But you can go into your war room and get on your knees and ask for God's forgiveness when you sin, when you say hurtful things or don't obey your mom and me, or even when you are angry with God and say mean things to Him. He loves you and He will forgive you if you are sorry. Does that make sense?"

"But what about the worst sins?" he asked.

"Let's read some more scripture. Do you want to?"

[Nods]

"Listen to this. This is also from Paul's letter to the Romans, the next chapter":

"Who will bring a charge against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Just as it is written,

“For Your sake we are being put to death all day long; We were considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Rom 8:33-39)

"So you see my son, there is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ. You can always repent, say you are sorry and resolve to amend your ways, and God will forgive your sins.  We are blessed to be Christians, because we have a Savior who loves us. You will make your first Confession next year. That is when you tell your sins to a priest, but it is actually Jesus acting in the person of the priest, who forgives you."

He was getting sleepy by this point. I could tell he was remorseful for his outbursts the other day. He did not want to sin, but kept sinning, even when he didn't want to. We spoke about the conscience, and how it is a great gift from God for us to know our sins, so that we can repent of them and seek forgiveness. Christ is the Divine Physician who wants us to be healthy, and sin makes us sick, but that he has the cure for that sickness.

He wanted to make up with his mother, but in private. He headed upstairs, wanting to be read to from his Catholic Bible. My son is a sinner like the rest of us. But like his namesake, he is a boy after God's own heart. And he has a great, great Savior in whom he can rest, for his yoke is easy, and his burden light.

New Year, New Look...and New Option to Subscribe by Email!

Happy New Year! Wisdom and Folly is about to break the 100,000 page view mark, according to my fancy little widget. I'm a bit tech challenged, but have been playing around with the layout on Blogger and I've decided on a new layout and look. I like it! Do you?

One reason for the change was subtle, but important: White background/black text, which is a change from the dark background and white text prior. Hopefully this is easier on the viewer's eyes, and makes copying and pasting easier.

Also, exciting news! You can now SUBSCRIBE to the blog to get email notifications when a new post goes live. I can't believe it's taken me this long to get this feature up. I told you I was tech challenged! Click SUBSCRIBE at top left under "Wisdom and Folly" and enter your email, and you'll be notified of new posts moving forward. I think. If you don't get emails let me know. Tech challenged. Thank you Jesus!

Another change! If you are a member of this blog, you should be able to comment now. I had some issues in the past with comment bombing, so had disabled it. All the more reason to follow! Shoot me an email via the contact form if you're not able to comment for some reason.

I think that's it for now. I always appreciate you sharing via social media should you feel inclined, even though I am off Facebook now.

And mostly, please continue to pray for me! I never make a dime off this blog, no ads, but as long as the Lord is being glorified, I am a blessed man.

Here's to a blessed year to everyone. Cheers.

Rob

For The Love Of God, Stick It Out

I often tread a fine line in my writing-slash-blogging between the objective and the subjective. When I err too much on the side of the objective (the scholarly/theological/cultural, etc), I find myself a little out of my element. I'm not a scholar, nor am I a theologian, a pundit, or an expert in anything of any real significance. I don't have the time or aptitude for thoroughly researched and footnoted posts.

Most of the time by default, then, I end up writing about my experiences (ie, the subjective) as a Catholic, a father, a husband, and a disciple of Jesus Christ. I write about my faith and my wife and my family and our life, joys and struggles.

This comes with its own dangers. For one, I don't ever want to set myself as some kind of expert in anything. I may write about what I know, but that doesn't mean I know it all. If I write about the faith, it doesn't make me a saint. If I write about being a dad, it doesn't make me an all-star. If I write about marriage, believe me, it doesn't make me an expert.

Secondly, I don't want to expose my family to anything that would compromise us, and the internet can be a dark and creepy place. I've been encouraged to keep writing over the years, even and especially at times when I would rather keep a lower profile. Thankfully, most of the small and faithful who read this blog are, I would like to think, people of good will. That keeps me going, especially your prayers.

It's easy to lose sight of things, to think you're bigger or more influential than you are.  I've seen bloggers go from small and relatable to having huge followings. Some have handled it well, others I feel have lost touch and gone one of two routes: they either water down their message to not offend and attract larger audiences with frivolities; or they go hard line and uncompromising, since controversy and click baity titles stoke the stats.

In the end, it doesn't really matter much.

What does matter is the tangibles: Your actual faith, not what you package or market. Your actual marriage, not the veneer you present when on couples dinner dates with friends. Your actual relationship with your children, not how active they are in sports and music lessons and activities. And to the extent these things get compromised by the incidentals like being a public figure, blogger, or celebrity, your own busyness/workaholism, or a compromising personal situation with a member of the opposite sex, it may be wise to take the Matthew 5:29 approach--and amputate it, before irrevocable damage is done.

Every time I hear of a close friend (last week), acquaintance (periodically), or even a celebrity bloggers getting divorced, it always takes me by surprise. Most of the time, it feels like it comes out of the blue. I've found that by the time you pick up on things being bad, it's past the point of parties wanting to stick it out or work on it. And most of the time I had no idea. Most of my friends--I have no idea what kind of shape their marriages are in, if they are headed towards divorce, if they are stagnant and simply tolerating one another, or if things are healthy.

There are the social media facades, like the Watts family case, which was really disturbing. Today a personal finance blogger I've followed for a number of years, before he was famous, broke the news that he is getting divorced. Now, this is a liberal humanist environmentalist who espouses things like stoicism, efficiency, and hedonistic adaptation, without a covenant understanding of marriage, but it still took the winds out of my sails for some reason. I had no idea. I read through all 200+ comments on his blog and it was all people wishing him well, that they were sad for him but it's probably for the best. Most were divorced themselves, and touting divorce as traumatic but better than being in an unhappy marriage. Not one person argued for him to try sticking it out, that without knowing details of course but that maybe, just maybe, their reasons were not good enough for parting ways.

Even people of faith, people who should at least in theory have a covenant view of marriage, are not immune to divorce. I know it happens, I know there are reasons for it happening, but I still hate hearing about it. Part of it because you know the suffering ahead for the party, but also because it undermines your confidence in your own marriage, which up to that point may have been solid. If such-and-such couple or friends are throwing in the towel, what says you and your spouse won't either? Even if it's not likely or reasonable to think it, the spectre of doubt has been introduced.

I'm not interested in judging anyone, but I have never felt like I was in a position to be of help to someone in a troubled marriage. Most of the time the decision is already made. It is a small minority of those fighting the juggernaut of no-fault divorce. For those who want to stay and fight for their marriage, even in the wake of infidelity and/or some other kind of massive betrayal, they are fighting an uphill legal battle that does not support them. It truly is a David and Goliath situation.

My wife and I are coming up on nine years of marriage, a drop in the bucket of a lifetime. We are good and strong, but life can be funny and the future unknown. I think they best and simplest advice I read was from Catholic Answers on the topic of insulating your marriage from divorce, written by a Canon lawyer:

Pray Together

Eat Together

Play Together

Hold Hands 

I notice when I am not praying, when that has been put on the back burner, other things get compromised. If I'm not spending time with my spouse (like making time to have dinner together as a family), our relationship is not getting fuel or oxygen. When we're dour and snippy with each other, it's often because of stress and not having fun together. And it's hard to fight when you're holding hands (a good practice, if you can swing it, during those heated occasions. Feels counter-intuitive, but is effective)

Some Christian mom-blogger left her husband of 14 years to be with her lesbian lover and her ex-husband has this to say about the new family relationship to the WaPo:

“They’re lucky kids, to be surrounded by so much love. We have family dinners together — all six of us — and Abby cooks. (She is an AMAZING chef because Jesus loves me). We go to the kids’ school parties together. We are a modern, beautiful family. Our children are loved. So loved. And because of all of that love, they are brave.”

I don't know if that's how he really feels or if he's putting on a good face, but I find it gag-worthy. Enough with the PC-tripe. Kids want their moms and dads, together, whatever it takes. Marriage is hard, and is worth fighting for. I know there are some valid reasons for separation, but I like the Catholic Church's stance that ties you to the mast with your vows--til death do you part. It is hard. Thankfully I've known people who've been through hell in their marriages and have made it through to the other side by God's grace and with His help, and life together in their golden years is a testament to riding through the storms and living to tell the tale. They give me hope, when my hope gets shaken by friends, family, and acquaintances' marriages getting mowed down left and right by Satan's machine gun fire. He is out to destroy the family. It was revealed to the children at Fatima that this is his plan.

You can not fight if you do not pray. Pray for your spouse, and better, pray with your spouse. Pray for your children and bless them. Be stubborn, and be selfless. Fast. Devote yourself to the Holy Family. Amputate as necessary those things from your life that would compromise your marriage. Do everything in your power to stay married, and when your strength leaves you, throw yourself on the Cross. Just, whatever you do, for the love of God...stick it out.

Two Fingers To Death: On Siberia, Sedes, and Schism

"I follow no leader but Christ and join in communion with none but your blessedness [Pope Damasus I], that is, with the chair of Peter. I know that this is the rock on which the Church has been built. Whoever eats the Lamb outside this house is profane. Anyone who is not in the ark of Noah will perish when the flood prevails" (St. Jerome, Letters 15:2 [A.D. 396])


One of the nice things about being on break and off from work for a week is having time to, well, waste. Exhibit #1: trading an hour of my time on the couch watching a young British man build a cabin in the woods out of shipping pallets with his dad...one nail and plank at a time. No words, just sawing and hammering. My son loved it. I couldn't believe I watched the whole thing from start to finish. (6.5 million views on YouTube, btw)

The rabbit hole that is Youtube then suggested to me a documentary about a woman who lived in the taiga of the Russian wilderness as a hermit for seventy years. Sounds about up my alley. A film crew spent two days traveling by river to document her life. One of four children, she had been living alone for the past twenty seven years after the last of her family died. Her mother starved to death in the sixties. The woman's name was Agafia.

She would not accept bags of flour that had a barcode, because barcodes were a sign of the Beast. "Worldly life is frightening," she says, "If Christians sing worldly songs, they're doomed to eternal suffering. Same for music. Everyone who enjoys dancing creates infamy."

Ok, this was kind of interesting. She seemed of sound mind, yet lived in some of the harshest conditions on earth, alone, as a sixty nine year old woman, with a large tumor on her breast, surviving on potatoes and turnips, fish from the stream, bread, and bark. Her hands were gnarly from chopping down trees and stripping branches for the goats, starting fires with flint and tinder, and carrying pales of water.

But I didn't understand her faith. She was obviously a Christian believer, and I just assumed she was Russian Orthodox.

"My father's ancestors were true Christian believers. Ever since Prince Vladimir brought Christianity to Russian lands, our faith has been passed from generation to generation."

That faith, I learned later as the film progressed, was the faith of the "Old Believers" or "Old Ritualists" which can only be understood in a historical context.

In the 17th century, the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Nikon, desired to unify the liturgical discrepancies between the Russian and Greek Orthodox churches and made heavy-handed (and, arguably, sloppy) ecclesiastical reforms. Old Believers, as they identified, rejected the reforms and clung tightly to what they saw as the original expression of the true Faith. Agafia describes this perspective in the film:

"Christ died on the cross for the whole world. He descended into Hell to free the righteous. But Patriarch Nikon went back to Hell to confer with Satan. So he introduced new laws. He was...the ultimate Satanist. He abolished the two-fingered sign of the cross handed down to us by Christ himself, changed books and church dogma, exterminated all our priests. They tortured Old Believers and imprisoned them."

With the State backing the reforms, they anathematized the old rites and books and those who still used them. Old Believers were arrested and executed, and those who fled went to Lithuania, Ukraine, and Romania. Others, like Agafia's family, stayed in Russia, and hid in the Siberian wilderness to escape persecution.

Agafia seemed to belong to the more extreme and ascetic Bezpopovtsy grouping of Old Believers, who were largely priestless (in contrast to the more moderate conservative Popovtsy faction) and believed the world had fallen into the hands of the AntiChrist. "Only those Christians who hold on to the true faith of Christ, commit good deeds, repent and pray to the Lord for forgiveness will receive God's mercy," Agafia tells the camera crew, filming her praying the Psalms in her dark and crowded cabin. This passing on of a faith in isolation, sans priests or ecclesiastical lineage, seems to be the Orthodox equivalent of the Kakure Kirishitan in Japan, who were also forced into isolation due to persecution in the 17th century and who emerged with a deformed faith barely recognizable to Catholicism:

"With their Scripture forgotten, no real creed, and no catalogue of doctrines, the practice of this religion has evolved into a narrow fidelity to ancestral rituals.

"This is the only thing they have the ceremony," Whelan said. "That becomes their dogma. You have to do it right, you have to say the prayers right, or it won't have power. In the absence of other things that most other traditions have, this becomes the thing you've got to be true to."

"I do think that they are religious men in their own way," she said, that their prayers are directed toward God.

A tiny Catholic Church on Narushima attracts a small congregation, but the Kakure Kirishitan priests are not interested in joining it. Although they probably understand intellectually the relationship between Kakure Kirishitan and the Catholic Church, Catholicism to them remains foreign and removed.

...In the last two priests the universal religious struggle between the conservative and the liberal. One priest, in being correct to the past, is blind to the realities around him. The other, attempting to make the ritual relevant to those who don't truly understand the tradition, makes compromises that dilute the best of what had been preserved."

In a largely Protestantized country like the United States, it may be hard to understand the interconnectedness of ritual and dogma that the Eastern church has always held, that church rituals had from the beginning represented and symbolized doctrinal truth. Old Believers felt that such seemingly innocuous changes as using three fingers instead of two to make the sign of the Cross, or translations that altered pronunciation, struck at the heart of their faith, and they would rather go to their death than deny Christ, who was Truth itself. The famous personification of this in the Surikov painting of the exiling of Boyaryna Morozova (considered a martyr-saint among Old Believers), being carried away by sled while holding up the iconic "two fingers" in defiance.

I found the history of the Orthodox Church in Russia interesting, as I wasn't super familiar with this period in history. We tend to get tunnel vision as Westerners and Americans and Catholics, so it's good I think to peak out from time to time to get some perspective. What I saw in this documentary, as peculiar and specifically geo-religious as it appeared to be, tended to reinforce the general anthropological struggles of religion and religious expression: conservative vs progressive, traditional vs reformed, true vs schismatic believers. It happens in all the world religions: Sunnis and Shias in Islam, Orthodox and Reformed Judaism. Buddhists of the Mahayana school use the pejorative term "Hinayana" ("Lesser Vehicle") to describe Theravada (Traditional) Buddhism, a term Theravada Buddhists would find offensive.

In our own Church, we have a Pope that some on the extreme end think of as an Anti Christ and not validly elected. The issues of today are different yet similar to the struggles of Agafia and her family: Sedevacantists who believe there has not been a validly elected pope since Pope Pius XII was elected in 1958 due to the embracing of the heresy of modernism.

We have heard of the "Spirit of Vatican II" Catholicism (the kind of mirror that reflects this heresy of modernism and botched, sloppy, jarring roll-out of universal liturgical reforms for the world to see) being in contrast to the actual documents of the Second Vatican Council. Catholics would call sedevacantists schismatic on the grounds that they do not accept the authority of the Pope (whether Pope Francis, Pope Benedict XVI, Pope John Paul II and I, Pope Paul VI, or Pope John XXIII). No authority=no Catholicism.

A sedevacantist may counter that the Church forfeited that authority in its embrace of heresy, and the seat of Peter being vacant is a sign of the times for true believers, or which they would count themselves. They did not leave the Church; the Church left them. They are willing to suffer and endure in defense of what they see as the Old Faith, the True Faith, before it was corrupted.

So, these things are nothing new. "Bad" popes are nothing new, and schism is nothing new. Desires for an authentic orthodox expression of faith and reforms of reforms as a way of getting to the "heart of things" apart from ritual and dogma (Protestantism) is nothing new. It can be viewed historically, yes. But for the believer (or, in some cases, for the new convert trying to navigate these choppy ecclesial waters), these are highly personal and important things. A believer like Boyaryna Morozova would rather be tortured and exiled to Siberia than use three fingers instead of two to make the sign of the cross, while another Christian believer might have no problem re-baptizing a new member of their congregation in accordance with their norms of belief.

I suspect Agafia's story is a mix of Russian fortitude, admirable stubbornness, dogmatic integrity, and religious fervor. For a foreigner watching from their computer screen thousands of miles away in the comfort of a heated and air conditioned dwelling, who may have skipped church to do some shopping or stay in their pjs, it may be an anthropological curiosity. But it also presents us with the questions: what is the true Faith? Are we willing to die, be exiled, live cut off from society, to preserve it? Does it really matter whether we use two fingers or three in rituals like the Sign of the Cross? Who has the authority to interpret scripture, proclaim dogma, and excommunicate? What makes one Catholic?

For me that last part is the one that isn't a real struggle: you cannot be Catholic without the pope. You may be more austere in your penance, more sincere in your convictions, more virtuous in your service, and more astute in your apologetics. But if you don't have the pope, you are on your own.

Pope Francis is not my kind of pope. I find his words and exhortations ambiguous and confusing. I've been critical of him in the past in my own little world of preference and influence. I don't even doubt what I'm reading in Malachi Martin's "Windswept House" about the smoke of Satan entering the Church, as Paul VI warned.  But who cares what I think or prefer? He is still my pope. I cannot separate my religious expression from subjection to his authority as universal head of the Church of Christ.

To apostatize is not only to deny Christ but to deny the Faith. They are not separate, just as being Catholic and recognizing the Pope as the head of the Church are not separable. I have no real knowledge and no real virtue, no real suffering to my name, no beautiful liturgy to extol, and no real merit to bring before Christ when I meet Him at the Last Judgment. And I have no other ark to cling to in this life but the Church. I am adrift without her. So I will cling to that. Pope and all.

"There is one God and one Christ, and one Church, and one chair founded on Peter by the word of the Lord. It is not possible to set up another altar or for there to be another priesthood besides that one altar and that one priesthood. Whoever has gathered elsewhere is scattering" (Cyprian of Carthage, Letters 43[40]:5 [A.D. 253]).

Free Indeed

Every fourth Wednesday of the month I drive to the local county prison with a Bible in hand. Although I obtained my clearances through the umbrella of our local parish, I make these visits alone. I leave my cell phone in the car, turn in my keys to the intake guard, and get my badge. I pass through the metal detectors and get swiped, lift up my shoes to make sure I'm not smuggling anything in, and then make my way down the cinderblock hallway, take a right, and wait at the green wrought metal double gate to grind open. When the first door closes behind me, the second one opens in front of me. When the second one closes behind me, I inform the guard at the control station, make my way to the chapel, and pray about what to share that evening.

I never know before I go, trying to remember that "the Holy Spirit will give you the words to say at the moment when you need them" (Lk 12:12). I also never know how many guys the Lord will send me. Sometimes I meet with as few as two inmates, and (on evenings like this week), as many as thirty. When the guard unlocked the doors to the chapel, the men just kept filing in until almost every seat in the metal pews was taken. I shook every one of their hands and asked them to have a seat, made the sign of the cross, and opened with a prayer of thanks and blessing over them, the guards, and for God to be made present among us in the reading of the Word.

I thankfully have enough freedom and leeway to approach my hour with them however the Lord see fit. Some volunteers do a kind of 'life-lessons' series, others may go over the Sunday Mass readings. Personally, I like to just expose the men to the Word of God by reading aloud, pausing periodically for any questions or discussions as they come up. For the past few months I had been reading from Romans, but after finishing it up last month, this past Wednesday I decided to read from the first letter of St. Peter. I am not a theologian or biblical scholar, so I keep any discussions relatively fundamental--sin, death, redemption, concupiscence, the Fall, the need to forgive our enemies, love, virtue, and our need for a Savior. One theme I keep going back to when expounding on the Gospel message to this particular group of guys is the freedom of the believer in Christ.

I've been off of social media for three weeks now. The uncomfortable and disorienting detox period has passed, and I feel a little like waking up after LASIK surgery--things are a little more clear, without the need for contacts. Deb checked me out a book from the library written by a former Silicon Valley pioneer of virtual reality titled "Ten Arguments For Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now." This particular author is on the left side of the socio-political spectrum, but as an insider who helped develop the kind of social networking sites we take for granted today, it was interesting to see how vehemently he felt they were doing harm to society and making slaves out of the unwitting consumers in a Matrix-like illusion of pseudo-connectedness. We are being used, and we don't even realize it. But there remains a power within that very consumer to opt-out--we still have free will to not participate.

The men and women "on the inside" can also feel like cogs in a machine as well, slaves to their circumstance and "the system." They are assigned numbers and ordered where to go and when to eat and watched by surveillance at all times. They know what it feels like to not be free. And yet "everyone who sins is a slave to sin" (Jn 8:34). "Do you see the connection?" I told them. "God gives us the grace, by baptism, to resist sin. He gives us everything we need in cooperation with grace and by faith to choose to do His will. And yet as we read in Romans, we 'do that which we do not want to do' when we sin. We read:

"Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God’s slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor" (1 Peter 2:16-17)

"You can start today, right now. It costs nothing. It does not depend on your external circumstances.  No guard and no other man can take away the freedom you have in Christ, the power you have in the Gospel, the joy you have in doing good and resisting evil. When you suffer for doing good, as Peter says, don't be surprised. But it is better to suffer for doing good than doing evil."

It was weird to be just reading the word of God and expounding on the basic truths of Christian belief by the grace of the Holy Spirit (I just opened my mouth and He gave me the words) to a room packed full of more or less hardened men, men of all races and class, who were rapt, as if they had never heard such a thing. Many of the men suffered from addictions and bad habits which kept them in a cycle of recidivism. There is much going against them, especially when they get out. But though they were behind walls, they were free. They were free to resist or choose sin, they were free to retaliate or forgive, they were free to pray or ignore prayer, they were not slaves to their circumstances if they were believers in Christ because joy is a deep well that goes with you wherever you find yourself for the man redeemed and ransomed.

This is great power, I told them, the power recounted in Acts by our Lord when he tells the disciples "you shall receive power," the power of the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:8). If you have this power, don't give it up or forfeit it by committing sin. If you don't have this power, this rock on which to stand, you can ask for it and the God of mercy will freely give it to you. If you are not baptized, be baptized, and receive the grace necessary to be saved, for "no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit (Jn 3:5).

I was getting hoarse by the end of the hour, and closed with a prayer and the sign of the cross. He had given me the words, as nervous as I always am when I walk behind the gates without a plan or anything premeditated. It is a great privilege to visit these men inside and to simply read the Word of God to them. There is great power in the Gospel, a power that no man can take away from you. The man of Christ, whether in the world or behind bars, is a slave to God. He is free indeed.

Holding Worship Hostage

We attended Mass on Christmas day at a church that is not our regular parish, mostly due to schedule. It was our former parish, and there was a guest priest celebrating Mass whom I did not know.

We entered the church about fifteen minutes early, and the priest was greeting people before Mass. He asked our kids what what they "got for Christmas," did they like their toys, etc. Okay. We find a pew on the far side and Mass begins. "Whether you're an Eagles fan or a Dallas fan, local or traveling, divorced and remarried, you're welcome here." Okay. I was starting to get a little uncomfortable.

Pope Benedict noted that,“Wherever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment. Such attraction fades quickly — it cannot compete in the market of leisure pursuits, incorporating as it increasingly does various forms of religious titillation.”

At every opportunity, the priest would find a way to interject some joke or personal observation about this or that that was outside of the rubrics of the Mass. Even right before the consecration, he did his own impromptu monologue about the Last Supper. The altar as a stage, the priest as the center of attention. Soliciting jokes and clapping for this and that. The homily making no reference whatsoever to Christmas, or Christ as Savior. My heart was hurting. The army of Eucharistic Ministers took their stations, and we got out of line. As much as the priest was profaning the Mass with his antics, his hands were still consecrated. Our family filed in the opposite direction and across the back, and received on the tongue from the priest as we normally do.

Although Canon law states that there is nothing sinful about a communicant receiving the Eucharist from an EM, it is my personal practice to receive only from the priest or deacon. EMs are supposed to be extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist, used only when absolutely necessary, yet they have become standard in most Catholic parishes as some kind of lay participatory activity. I'm not going off on a tirade, but only to say I think in most circumstances they are not necessary and that the priest should be the only one distributing Communion. This was just one of a number of things that I just took for granted during my early years as a Catholic but didn't realize how far it was from how the Mass should be celebrated, because, well, that's just the way it was in every parish I visited, this kind of spirit of the 70's thing.

When Mass was over, the older couple in front of us turned around and asked us how we "liked it." My wife groaned inside, because I wasn't like her and would tell them what I thought. "Father so and so, isn't he great? He packs his church to standing room only," the woman said. I nodded and smiled, stating that I didn't appreciate words and impromptu interjections during the Mass, that it took away the focus from Christ and did an injustice to the integrity of tradition. I said it matter of factly without making a scene, and only because they asked so directly. They were completely taken aback that someone would not love such a performance, and were a little flustered. We wished one another a Merry Christmas, smiling, and left.

I was far from a bastion of orthodoxy in college and in my twenties, but the priest making himself the center of attention and treating the altar as his performing stage always bothered me. A lot. After our beloved campus priest was transferred to another assignment, and we were assigned a replacement, this happened with regularity. The new priest was like a thespian and treated each Mass as a performance. I noticed it again with another priest when I attended Mass in Philly where I moved a few years later; though he was more orthodox, he still seemed to set himself up as the center of attention on stage, so much so that I wrote a letter to him saying as much. At the "Catholic" college I worked at in my thirties, the nuns changed the words during Mass to make it "gender-inclusive" and I couldn't stand it. The words are not ours to change.

The parish we attend now seems to have a more concerted view of liturgical integrity. There are patins at Communion, an organ, and the architecture of the 200+ year old church supports a more reverent demeanor. There are still EMs, but we always sit where we can receive from the priest. Some of the altar servers are girls, which bothers me, but I guess you have to choose your battles. It seems, in my mind, an easy enough solution--there is an established altar rail. Even if it took 15 minutes longer, everyone could kneel on it and the priest could distribute Communion they way they do at the Latin Mass, with no need for EMs.

I brought it up to the director of Liturgy at the parish we attend and he said they need to take baby steps and something like that would be considered too radical. I'm not on the parish council or too involved with the politics of parish life, but am sympathetic to what he most likely has to deal with. As much as a handful of people are impassioned about a more traditional liturgy, there are just as many who are wedded to the spirit of the seventies and are pushing for greeters and guitars, and they make their voice and power known. It is a balance, I suppose, and it is bearable for us at our current parish. There are strings of orthodoxy sewn throughout the blanket, strings which are just holding us there, though I don't know for how long.

I don't quite understand where I am at, where I fall, liturgically. On the one hand, such liturgical abuse as described above during Christmas Mass feels like arrows in my heart, painful and embarrassing. And yet I'm not as far to the other extreme as someone moved to tears or having their breath taken away by the reverence of a traditional Mass. I can appreciate it and prefer it, and I think the disposition we have at Mass is in fact supported by the art, architecture, posture, and liturgy, but I don't have strong feelings about it as the be all end all.

I'm caught in the middle, it feels--our current parish is not as blatantly profane in their liturgical expression as some parishes, and so are impetus for ferrying to a more traditional parish is not as urgent as it may be for some. And yet, it is still built on what some might consider the faulty foundation of modernism, the Novus Ordo. In short, we are going to ride out the year and then pray about whether we are being called to a TLM parish or to stay and try to "bloom where we are planted." It feels like an extreme step, putting us in a seemingly "extreme" camp to which I'm not sure we would fit as a family, but I think we need to consider it is in prayer as what might prove to be a necessary option.

Merry Christmas (in pictures, from my son's notebook)

Jesus I trust in you

Bible

The Nativity

Jesus helps his foster father, Joseph

The Holy Mass

Jesus dying for our sins

The shepherd boy

St. Christopher ferrying a passenger

St. Padre Pio

St. Martin de Porres

Our Holy Mother, Mary

The Crib And The Throne

A few weeks ago my son and I stopped by our local Adoration chapel to pay the Lord a visit. I taught my son to drop to both knees upon entering in homage, and quietly pull up a kneeler. When we had prayed and felt it was time to leave, we again dropped to our knees and getting up, walked backwards til we were out of the chapel. I don't know where I picked up the tradition over the years, but I whispered to my son when he asked why we were walking backwards, "you never turn your back on a king."

As formalized as that habit can be when approaching and leaving the Lord's presence, our time in Adoration is often anything but a formal affair. It is a blessed chance to just sit and bask, or collapse in a heap, or pour out our hearts, or simply rest in silence. It is not good to be careless and slovenly, but nor do we feel the need to be overly formal, as if we were at a dinner party for distinguished guests. I typically kneel for most of my time, but when my knees feel like they are giving out, I sit. My prayers are not formalized in most cases, but just a baring of the heart and spirit, since "a contrite heart He will not despise" (Ps 51:17).

Humanity is the pinnacle of God's creation, and the Incarnation is manifestation of that glory. There is simply no creature like man, and there is no God like Christ. As co-creators in the divine work of creation, men and women given the charge to be fruitful and multiply (Gen 1:28) and participating in the miraculously ordinary work of bringing life into the world, we are invited into the royal court, to continue to lineage of man. It is a great privilege and we give honor to God when we offer our own fiat, like Mary, to welcome life. Even (and especially) when the odds seem stacked against us.

You can see the light in the eyes of the elderly when there is a baby in the pew at Mass. It's a light of hope in what can seem like sometimes dark circumstances--dying parishes, violent streets, breakdown of families, defection from the life of a community of faith among the young. But there is something about babies that gives hope. Biologically, deep in our DNA, we know that our existence as a people depends on propagation. A society without children is a future without hope. We are already starting to see this sad state in many parts of Europe in childless PMs and heads of state, in barren or one child couples, in young people choosing other paths besides marriage and children. There is an air of enlightenment and being free to choose one's own destiny. But the older generation knows what lies ahead. A child is a light in a darkness, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hostile and self-serving world.

People pay homage to ordinary babes in cribs of their own accord. They come baring collections of onesies and diapers, rattles and binkies, crocheted blankets and monogrammed plush dolls. There is something that keeps them from being able to do otherwise. When the child is a prince or princess, of royal lineage, even more so. When the child is the God of Eternity, of all Creation, the God of the Universe, made incarnate...it is almost unfathomable to conceive of.

And who is it that comes to give him homage? Three foreigners, Zoroastrians following a star, are the first on the scene, no doubt planting their knees inadvertently in a few choice animal droppings and clumps of straw. Otherwise he is surrounded by his Mother and foster father in a cocoon of protection, a brief respite from the refugee flight soon to take place with a bounty on the child's head, this threat to the king.

Paying homage to a King in a crib, one who existed before all time and outside of space, who crashed into history to save His people from their sin, but who had to suck at the breast, grow and learn for thirty three years before offering His life for us. Born in obscurity in humble circumstances, and the early years as a child lived in obscurity, should tell us something about the character of our King: He teaches us to prepare ourselves in obscurity, to be content with the circumstances we find ourselves in when it is His will that we are in them, and to accept weakness, helplessness, and dependency as a model for trust in our heavenly Father. We don't need to prepare lengthy speeches or elaborate material gifts to our Infant King as we would a head of state. We need simply to drop to our knees at the foot of His crib and marvel, that God would humble himself to become one of us. That his cries and coos are as much a divine logos as His prophetic words and enigmatic parables given a man in the prime of his life. That the milk of the Mother of humanity, the new Eve, would nourish the Divine Essence Himself in earthly flesh, and that without it He would fail to thrive.

There is something about being human that cannot compare to anything else, and there is something about the Divine that no human mind can comprehend. For God to become man is a mystery too great to understand.

But nobody tries to figure out a baby. You just love a baby, marvel and awe, stare and melt. This is Adoration at it's finest, homage at the foot of the crib, the throne. This is the Incarnation, the Word made flesh, coos, drools, and all. This is Life, the 'yes' of fiat, the nourishment of the womb, the tabernacle that every man should lay his life down to protect. This is the light in the darkness that gives the old people hope. This is Emmanuel...Christ with us.

Happy Christmas to you and yours.

Rob

To The Hills

As my parents said when they were married, "divorce is not on option," I continue to say the same to the spectre of suicide that darkens the doors at the lowest point wondering if I will invite him in. My door is shut and barred. Yet reluctantly typing the word even I can anticipate sirens going off somewhere, emails composed, phones picked up, areyouallrights? offered. All things to be grateful for, even though there is no reason to worry about this.

Women are twice as likely to suffer depression than men, yet one fourth as likely to take their own lives. Women make more relational versus unilateral decisions, and feel more free to change their mind, and rely on interdependence and friends. Men value independence and decisiveness, and regard seeking help as a weakness to be avoided and success--even in suicide--an admirable 'seeing of things through.' 

I have head about the false (but in the moment, very real) peace and lucidity that comes when a person decide to ends their life. It is a counterfeit gleam of hope in an otherwise pitch black night. And it is mighty hard to understand how something as perverted as suicide might be regarded by a person in the throws of despair. The one thing to look forward to when there is nothing else. A coveted relief. "Ya gotta give 'em hope," the spectre procures. Even if it is a lie. 

But when that's not on the table, you have no other choice but to fight, even when you're strung up on the ropes. It's exhausting. I want to sleep til forever, and forever never comes. You just keep slugging through. 

My wife is in my corner. She can hold the bucket while I spit out my teeth and shoot water in my gums, and rub my wrist between her palms like she was trying to start a fire. I love her to life. But it's a wearisome pummeling. She holds me up, elbows locked under my armpits, takes me off the pole and binds my wounds. I scan the crowd for the Lord, to tell me what to do, to even just see his eyes, but he's nowhere to be seen. I'm sure he's holding me up, and sending angels, but I can't see anything; I can't see straight. I know He's there, I just don't know where. I'm too tired to call for him even, but lift my eyes to the hills and wonder from where does my help come. (Ps 121:1)

I heard a song the last time I was getting pummeled like this. I welled up for days every time I hear it. It's for the wives, the husbands, the loved ones who can't touch you without burning...the ones who you force to sit outside your bedroom door just so you know where they are, and they do, even when they can't come in, know they can't come in. But when the heat dies down and you're not yet consumed, they will test the walls, and step quietly across the embers to make their way to you. I will throw back my head, sleep the sleep of the dead, but I will wake up, and my eyes will see the love before me through the smoke and fog.

I will keep fighting, it will not be a TKO, I will take it blow by blow and if I have to play dead I will until the spectre in his pride prances his way out of the ring. I will keep everything to myself at work, dab eyes quick and unnoticed, hold it together. I will grocery shop, I will make conversations, I will live. Then my bride and my coach will pitch me up, load me into the wheelbarrow back to the locker room. Stitch by stitch, suture by suture, night after night, til death do us part. I can't pay them anything in my weakness when I'm pummeled like this. The only thing I can offer to retribute is to stay in the fight.

"I'm afraid of the space where you suffer Where you sit in the smoke and the burn I can't handle the choke or the danger Of my own foolish, inadequate words I'll be right outside if you need me Right outside
What can I bring to your fire? Shall I sing while the roof is coming down? Can I hold you while the flames grow higher, Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now? Can I come close now?
So we left you to fight your own battle And you buried your hope with your faith 'Cause you heard no song of deliverance There on the nights that followed the wake We never though to go with you Afraid to ask
What can I bring to your fire? Shall I sing while the roof is coming down? Can I hold you while the flames grow higher, Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now? Can I come close now?
Lay down our plans Lay down the sure-fire fix Grief's gonna stay awhile, There is no cure for this We watch for return, We speak what we've heard We sit together, in the burn
What can I bring to your fire? Shall I sing while the roof is coming down? Can I hold you while the flames grow higher, Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now? Can I come close now?"

Crista Wells "Come Close Now"