UnPlanned

My wife and I just got back from seeing Unplanned, the story of former clinic director Abby Johnson who left Planned Parenthood after eight years working for the organization and became a pro-life advocate. She was the youngest clinic director in Planned Parenthood's history. She now heads up "And Then There Were None," which helps other abortion workers leave the industry. This isn't a film review, just some varied thoughts.

The film opens up in a strategic way, IMO. It shows the PP escorts (Abby had volunteered as one, which is how she got her start with the organization) as caring in a compassionate way for the young women coming to the clinic. They meet them at their cars and tell them to "ignore" the "protestors." "Start talking to them right away," the escort showing Abby the ropes says. "What about," Abby asks. "Anything. Just keep them distracted." The flip side of showing the escorts in a positive light is something I have personally struggled with reconciling, and that is the aggressive "baby killer" model of (men, in this case) shouting at the women going in. You see early on there are two groups on the "other side of the fence" and the other group is the 40 Days for Life folks. The young woman speaks kindly to Abby and they develop a kind of relationship in their respective professional areas--one a PP volunteer, the other a 40DFL volunteer (both pregnant at one point too).

Abby doesn't do anything half-way. The current clinic director sees her potential and calls her into the "POC" room, a room she had never been in before. "You know what POC stands for, right?" one of staff ask her. "Products of Conception," she says. "Pieces of Children," the staff member replied in retort.

An interesting scene ensues, I'm not sure if others have noted it or not. Zachary King has spoken of abortion as a Satanic sacrifice. The way the scene is filmed and the language used when Abby enters the POC room points to a kind of parallel. She refers to the POC room as "the Holy of Holies" and in the scene the camera floats through a wall where there is a kind of pass-through vault of aborted baby parts, which must carefully be counted by the staff to ensure none are left inside the woman's uterus. If you know anything about the "Holy of Holies" in the Catholic Church, and the tabernacle that houses the Eucharist--the body of Christ--this will not be lost on you.

In the break room at one point, a staffer recounts an incident in which Shawn Carney of 40 Days for Life (the young man in the blue shirt) knocks on her door to ask for prayers and to raise awareness of the cause, when they both realize they 'know' each other from their respective camps. The staff proceed to kind of make fun of what he's doing, going door to door, until she lets it drop that he's knocked on about 25,000 doors. "What are the odds, right?" 25,000 doors. This is a young man who sees what is going on and is committed to making it a thing of the past in our culture. He and his wife will later be instrumental in helping Abby leave PP.

The role of "a job" was one that has been on my mind lately. I've had some dirty jobs before, mostly in my twenties, but was always able to move on to something else. I presume Abby was doing pretty well at PP, they compensated her well, and the staffers likewise were doing awful work but everybody has to work, so you kind of turn a blind eye to it. It's easy to say, "just walk away," but with bills to pay and families to support it's easy to rationalize things. The fear of the unknown, of not knowing how one will support oneself if such an industry is all you know, I think keeps a lot of people there. It's like stripping or drug dealing. Just keep focused and don't look at what you're really doing. That's why Abby's work with "And Then There Were None", and 40 Days for Life as well, are so important, because they see you have to have something in place for the real financial fallout of leaving the industry. It's like in scripture when it says in James 2:16: "If one of you says to them, "Go in peace; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?" They are doing a real and valuable thing in providing alternatives so people actually can leave the industry.

A telling scene concerning the business model of Planned Parenthood comes at a corporate meeting in which Abby is given an award but puts the Director in an uncomfortable position when she questions the pushing of abortion vs. the preventing of unwanted pregnancies via birth control. "Abortion is our fries and soda" she spits, making reference to the high margin markups in fast food restaurants, where they "break even" on hamburgers but the real money is in the ancillaries. "Abortion is what pays your salary. When Abby notes that PP is a non-profit, her boss notes, "Non-profit is a tax status, not a business model."

The scene (that others may have noted) that had me beside myself was when the bio-medical "waste" hauler comes out with a blue 55 gallon drum of aborted babies and body parts to load up. You kind of feel for him, he is just doing his job (again, back to the job thing). Shawn and the 40 Days folks ask if they can pray over the remains. "Ok," the hauler says, "but you might want to wait. I got another one coming out." It's a powerful prayer. This is a holocaust on a magnitude almost icomprehenisible to human sensibilities, happening right under our noses, every day, every second, in every part of the world.

Abby is a modern day Paul of Tarsus. When Saul was putting Christians to death and encountered the Lord, the early Church wasn't sure they could trust him. When Abby shows up at the 40 Days for Life office "wanting out", having been blinded by the light, knocked off her horse, and, later, crippled under the weight of her guilt and sin, it would be understandable to question or condemn her. But these Christians don't do that. They take her in and speak to her of love and forgiveness, not condemnation and judgment. Though she was complicit, like Paul she will become a fierce and zealous advocate for the very lives she oversaw the destruction of: 22,000 in all under her watch.

Abby's husband (Doug on Tap) is a rockstar. I don't know him in real life, but he seems like a model husband that hates what his wife is doing but loves her and is there for her in everything. As I understand he holds down the fort with their eight kids while she is doing the work she is called to do. Maybe not the most traditional model, but not the most traditional of circumstances either.

When PP takes Abby and Shawn to court, I could feel my palms starting to sweat. This is truly a David and Goliath fight ("We have Soros, we have Gates, with have Buffet," Abby's boss says. "Who do you have?"), but ultimately they had no ground to stand on. I loved the lawyer representing Abby and Shawn, and his affable laid backness, because he knows in this instance the truth is on their side. Pro life work is not for the weak of heart. David Daleiden is one young man I admire very much, and part of what impressed me so much is he is so cool under massive and numerous lawsuits. Courts and such can be intimidating, but he ultimately knows the Truth will not forever be silenced and he is not on "the wrong side of history."

There are other things I could say and note, but the image I was left with, that seared into my consciousness, came early in the film. Abby is in the surgery room during an abortion, a first for her. She is assisting with the ultrasound and sees the baby in the patient's womb clear as day. As the abortionist works at pulling out the struggling fetus by the leg and the clear tubes begin to fill with blood and fluid, and the machine picks up force, eventually what is left as the legs, torso, and, ultimately, head are suctioned out, is...an empty hole. A black, empty hole in the uterus, where a life used to be but is no more. The fetus fought to escape the instruments, on the ultrasound screen, but there was no one to come to his or her rescue. The empty space in the uterus is the kind of empty space left in the soul after such an act of violence--of the mother, of the boyfriend or father or grandmother that drove them to the clinic to "get it taken care of," of the abortionist, of those helping to procure it--where God's grace used to be. This cavernous void is an empty place in need of healing, but it must be seen for what it is. God's mercy is fathomless, but we must face that void--not just for our role in what we have done, or what we have failed to do when it comes to abortion, but with all sin that robs us of the indwelling of grace, the place where God used to live. There is redemption, a ransoming the weight of which only Christ's cross can bear, but it came at a steep price.

I hope all can see this film. The acting is very good, not hokey in the slightest, and pulls the rug out on the lies that Planned Parenthood perpetuates in their work, a false and misguided compassion motivated by profit and tells a story of the power of persistent prayer by pro-life stalwarts working tireless (75% of no shows at the clinic happened when prayer vigils showed up, remember that!) for years in the hopes of a Saul becoming a Paul. Abby Johnson was an agent of death who was blinded by the light and was called to become a tireless apostle for Life. There is redemption. There is a lot of work to be done, and the battle for Life is just getting started.

The Progressive Presupposition

This evening I attended a panel discussion at the invitation of a friend. The title of the sponsored evening was "A Crisis of Leadership and Faith" and included three panelists--a child advocacy lawyer, a theologian, and a parish priest--who shared their views on the "reality behind the headlines" of the clergy abuse scandal from their respective positions. It was held at a local Catholic college, one of a dozen or so in our immediate area.

I went into the evening with as open a mind as I could. My inclination was to presuppose both the panelists and the audience were of a more progressive bent, though I was also prepared to be mistaken if that was in fact not the case. I did check out the twitter feed of the theologian on the panel prior to the talk, and did notice he retweeted Fr. James Martin, Democratic Senator Tim Kaine, and a quote by liberation theologian Gustavo Gutierrez, which gave me a pretty good idea of his leanings. The friend who invited me and with whom I attended was not Catholic, but had an respectful curiosity about Catholicism in general and was open to learning something about the Church, which was in many respects a kind of foreign institution.

Life, politics, religion are never completely polarized to the extent we see on the news. Most people in everyday life are not classified in a binary fashion as either "Radical Leftists" or "Right-wing extremists" but have ideations on a gradient. And yet when it comes to my feeds, my social circle, and my Catholic sphere of influence, I would say I am in somewhat of a conservative bubble. I vet sources and am generally aware of which lean left and vice versa. I know publications like America magazine and The National Catholic Reporter exist, but do not feel inclined to read or cite them, though I try not to demonize them either. I am willing to concede that there are different ways of approaching or seeing an issue, and I try to be respectful and charitable in the way I would hope to be respected and treated with charity. So, my attendance at this talk was a kind of opportune forced exercise, a chance to venture out of said bubble and see what was going on on the other side of the Catholic fence.

The panelists shared their respective experience and views on the roots of the crisis. The lawyer--a Catholic mother of four--spoke about abuse in general and what was unique about abuse in the Church, the PA Grand Jury report, and her advocacy work. The theologian spoke about the problem of clericalism, structural sins/violence, unequal distribution of power, church organizing, and changing social structures. The priest spoke about his particular parish, comprised of predominately Hispanic families (many of whom were undocumented) and how in this community the priest is trusted and "they come to me for everything." They shared for about an hour, after which questions were taken from the audience.

I was there to learn--about the abuse crisis in the context of this particular talk, yes; but also as a "mystery shopper" to learn about how progressive Catholicism works and how "we-are-the-church" Catholics think, what they believe, and the things they presuppose. Here are a few of my observations:

-Learning how to read between the lines. 
The language that is used says a lot about their ideological presuppositions. For instance, references to the #metoo movement, social sin, change, justice, organizing, empowering, etc. are keywords for a progressive ideology. Whereas a conservative may regard with suspicion or disdain and would not include such terms in their lexicon, it is important to realize that for a progressive, these are points of pride. Change is not something to fear but embraced, for instance. It's where efforts should be focused, and mobilization should be occurring, a kind of "get out the vote" mentality. It can be subtle, though, not always overt but implicit.

-What is not talked about is as important as what is talked about.
Orthodox Catholics can sometimes fall into the trap of litmus testing and showing their hand in brusque fashion. "Yes, but what about ABORTION??" may be preemptively interjected when the topic of the preferential option for the poor comes up. Of course care for the poor should not be antithetical to the life of the unborn, so it plays into progressives' dismissal of conservatives as "obsessed with below-the-belt issues." The theologian spoke about his work supporting CRS (Catholic Relief Services) and getting other students involved with them as well. That being said, it was notable that many things were intentionally left unsaid when the John Jay report came up during the discussion. Homosexuality was never mentioned, and pedophilia was brought up, but not pederasty, for instance.

-How the narrative is framed
One thing I noticed--both from audience members when they offered their comments and questions, and from the panelists themselves--is that progressive-minded Catholics frame the narrative as one of power structures, inequality, and a kind of egalitarian ideal. One woman called for "a greater role for women in the Church" and another man spoke of empowerment of the laity in leading discussions and working to make a difference. It is an interesting intersection with conservative Catholics, though, who also realize there is a failure in ecclesial examples of personal holiness and that the laity will in fact be leading the charge in keeping the Church afloat. 

-Radically different assumptions
Much like the way Republicans favor small government, states' rights, and free markets while Democrats favor taxation and more federal oversight and regulation, there are different assumptions within the Church among progressives and conservatives on what "church" means, the role of the conscience, and ecclesial authority. Emphasis on the social and collective versus the personal was something I noticed (social/structural sin vs. personal holiness, etc)

When I had the opportunity to ask a question, I asked how the panelists saw the crisis of faith, as noted (but not discussed) in the title of the talk. I cited some statistics from Pew research indicating that 50% of young Americans who were raised in the Church no longer call themselves Catholic; that 7% of those raised in the Church still attend Mass weekly; and that 8 in 10 leave the Faith before they turn 23. Of course there is no real answer that can be summed up in a few minutes time, but the question itself, I felt, was worth asking. Does progressive Catholicism attract a committed and sustainable community of young believers? Does orthodoxy? If so, it is overstated, or is it enough to sustain the demographic vocations cliff that will radically challenge the ecclesial carrying capacity of the Church in the next twenty years when aging priests retire and/or die?

I felt like an outlier in the crowd, and while I originally had a kind of antagonistic mentality going in, I deliberately tried to temper it with an open-minded listening and a respectful temperance of pushing my own ideological assumptions forcefully into the conversation. These were people who were also committed to the Church as they knew it. I felt for the young theologian, who said that between his wife and him, they had five degrees in Theology between them. "I have given my whole life to the Church," he said, and seemed to imply that he was too invested to turn his back on it. But I also got the impression that the progressive platform rested on the theme of change, and doing it from the inside by way of organizing and challenging the nature of ecclesial hierarchy. It seemed like a kind of hold over from the 1960's way of thinking/organizing/exacting reform, a bit tired, and one that I'm not convinced will save the Church from its present crisis.

A Raggedy Faith

When I set up in the middle of town with a "CATHOLIC TRUTH" sign handing out Miraculous Medals, I feel really really uncomfortable. I don't really know what I'm doing or what we are really accomplishing, and I feel naked and foolish. Sometimes people will come up to us and say, "what about the pedophile priests? What about the hypocrisy?" And I don't really always have a good answer. I smile and pray, and just going back and keep setting up shop all the while feeling the sting.

When I go to Planned Parenthood to pray outside the doors, I feel really really uncomfortable. I don't know what me praying decade after decade of the rosary are accomplishing in the face of the overall worldly pragmatism of abortion. I don't know what I'm doing. Each man and woman that goes in and comes out, I pray a decade for. When the escorts are out in their pink vests, I pray for them but never take my eyes off them. Our eyes will meet sometimes, but they always seem to look away. They know. Still, I don't know what else to do but pray. I don't know what to say or do. And I am a neophyte, especially compared to the veterans that have devoted their life to what I do a handful of times a year.

In the movie "Romero," the Archbishop is invited to the home of a well-to-do couple. Pleasantries are exchanged, and then the businessman husband/father lays into Archbishop Romero in the kitchen:

"You religious people ...You live in your souls. You do not understand what we do ...producing, selling, bringing dollars in...Capital, to develop the country, to create jobs ...to build a prosperous economy. That is what affects people. But for that we must have law and order."

Succeeding in the world is a wholly pragmatic affair, one I never really caught on to, as I'm sometimes reminded. I never did any internships, got a useless degree, for ten years I thought I would be a monk, I never made much money and never really cared, don't have much to show for a career. But I've always prayed, and I know God is faithful. I know it is not a futile endeavor...but that itself takes faith. We're not called to be successful, as St. Teresa of Calcutta said...just faithful.

Still, faith can feel like a fools errand sometimes when we actually put it into practice, when we're not writing about it or sharing articles or having discussions. We think of the flesh typically as the passions, of lust and unchastity and the appetites. But for me it's as much the temptations of the flesh to be accepted, to pragmatism, to scientific verifiability, to NOT being really really uncomfortable and just playing safe, to not losing friends, to not being mocked.

It's seeing a woman walking into the clinic and thinking, "well, if I was in her shoes, no job and no family and no support, scared and feeling like I had not options, maybe I would be doing the same thing. Maybe abortion in that case would make sense, and who am I to judge her if I haven't walked in her shoes." Or if I was the boyfriend, maybe I'd want to 'cover my tracks' too. These are the temptations I face during these times, the very subtle whisperings of "you have no right" and "what do you know" and "sure, you can pray for me, if it makes you feel better, but it won't really change anything." The foolishness of religion, of faith, of prayer.

If you want to be a saint, you have to be a stubborn son of a gun, for God's sake. St. Philomena was scourged, drowned with an anchor attached to her, and shot with arrows. Each time she was attacked angels took to her side and healed her through prayer. Finally, the Emperor had Philomena decapitated when the 13 year old virgin still refused to marry him. If it weren't for the saints themselves, I wouldn't think Heaven was even a possibility. We have to be stubborn with ourselves too. Oftentimes I only have faith to spite my LACK of faith, to spite the one tempting me, because there is literally nothing else I have of worth except this poverty of foolish faith, like a ratty gift you offer a King. Please God, increase my faith, and take me down with the ship so I can rise with you when this life is over.

Tradition and Charity: The Face Of Renewal

For the past month or so my family and I have been attending Mass in the Extraordinary Form--also known as the Tridentine Mass or the Traditional Latin Mass--in the city near us. This is at a parish different than the one where we are registered. The parish where we are registered and had been attending until last month is actually very reverent and liturgically minded for the most part. The church itself is over 200 years old, and still has an altar rail (though it isn't used), pews facing the altar (rather than in a circle), and patins at Communion. So, it's not like we were fleeing a heterodox Mass rife with liturgical abuses.

So, I often think, 'what is it that led us here?' and considering we are thinking and praying about making the switch to be fully registered at this new parish, it seems strange that I don't have a water-tight answer. I grew up attending the Divine Liturgy in Ukranian with my dad occasionally, so traditional liturgy is more familiar than it is exotic or new. Truth be told, I was never even really attracted to it in the first place, as I felt (at least in the Byzantine liturgy) that it was all about the externals--the incense, the chanting, the constant bowing and crossing. When people speak about the TLM being Heaven on Earth, these are the kinds of things that are attractions, not deterrents. I can appreciate beauty and formality, of course; but the "beauty will save the world" argument is not what drew me.

In a way, traditional Catholicism has more in common liturgically with "deed over creed" Judaism than it does with contemporary Christianity. As A.J. Jacobs writes in "The Year of Living Biblically,"

"There's an emphasis on behavior; follow the rules of the Torah, and eventually you'll come to believe. But evangelical Christianity says you must first believe in Jesus, then the good works will naturally follow. Charity and kindness alone cannot save you. You must, as the saying goes, be "justified by faith."

Of course whether you attend the Traditional Latin Mass or the Novus Ordo (I still have trouble writing that without it feeling pejorative), we are one in our faith, which theologically is still consistent with the rest of Christianity in being "creed over deed." But liturgically speaking, it is apparent in attending the Latin Mass that the rituals, the words, the language, the orientation even--matters. Right worship leads to right belief, or so I'm told.

The thing is, I'm starting to see there might be something to this. What is so radically different about the Extraordinary Form of the Mass is that it does not take my feelings, my understanding, or my participation into account. It took a little while for me to realize what is actually happening, but one almost needs to go through a paradigm shift. We are not 'sharing in a communal meal' as is sometimes the conceptualization in the NO, but witnessing the priest offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Even as I write, I recognize how new I am to this way of thinking, given how unsure I am in getting the terminology (and, by extension, the theology) correct. And I have been Catholic for over twenty years!

But there is something to this, obviously. Dr. Peter Kwasniewski writes,

"This is the challenge that the traditional Roman liturgy makes to us again and again, in its prayers, its ceremonies, its calendar, and its ethos. It is not accommodated to our worldly compromises... It proclaims unequivocally the primacy of things heavenly and spiritual. It is the luminous expression of an ageless tradition of worship, as carried out by men and women who made this worship their primary work in life. As such, it does the opposite of pandering to us moderns; it confronts us with our need for radical conversion. The old Missal is the unwavering, undying repository of the radical message of Jesus Christ, our Lord and God. Are we ready to hear this Gospel and take up the Cross?"

"Distrust of self," writes Dom Lorenzo Scupoli, "is so absolutely requisite in the spiritual combat, that without this virtue we cannot expect to defeat our weakest passions, much less gain a complete victory. This important truth should be deeply imbedded in our hearts; for, although in ourselves we are nothing, we are too apt to overestimate our own abilities and to conclude falsely that we are of some importance."

I remember when reading The Spiritual Combat years ago making a mental note of the order of the four things (weapons) necessary in the fight (Distrust of one's self; confidence in God; proper use of the faculties of body and mind; and the duty of prayer). Why did he list "Distrust of Self" first, feeling it necessary to lay the groundwork of human weakness before extolling the virtue of confidence in God? Did it matter?

Additionally, we see another example of this 'ordering' when it comes to the Commandments in Matthew 22. When an expert in the law asks him, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied:

"‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Mt 22:36-39)

The Lord tells the expert in the law that all the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments, while acknowledging that "the first and greatest" commandment is to love the Lord God with all one's heart, soul, and mind. When speaking of the temporal goods we need to live and that we fret over--food, shelter, clothing--our Lord reasserts the proper order of things: "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Mt 6:33).

And so the way I have experienced it, that radical witness of God first as expressed in the traditional liturgy, sets the tone for everything else. This is what can be intimidating about the community--the seriousness and "set-apartness" of everything. You'd be forgiven for thinking you maybe wandered into a kind of Catholic Hutterite country if you didn't know better. At the first Latin Mass that we attended, I could not get over my self-consciousness. Our kids were behaving badly that particular day, even though most all of the other kids weren't. You could almost hear a pindrop--no idle chitchat, and a reverent attitude. The veils were a curiosity I had heard about, though not all women were wearing so it didn't seem like you would be kicked out for not wearing one. But it is that very seriousness and intentionality that, I think, is part of the attraction. There are no casual Catholics at a Latin Mass, for the most part. From what I gathered, most have significant buy-in and commitment, and have made sacrifices as well to be there. Some have suffered for it as well.

So what did get us there in the first place, and why have we continued to attend to the point of considering making it our permanent parish? I'd say it all started with...an invitation. We had friends of friends, very warm and hospitable people, who attended there and who extended an invitation for us to "come and see." We took them up on their offer. The first TLM we attended happened to be on a Sunday when they do hospitality afterwards--coffee, donuts and pastries, and a chance to mingle. Lots of kids running around, young families and older folks. As much as we tend to say as Catholics, "It's not about the fellowship, that's for Protestants," having a community to be a part of is important for some people, and I think we may fall into that camp. The community is small, but everyone seems to know one another, and are friendly. The pastor himself is a deeply humble and holy man, and he made time to get to know us as well.

I think there is a tendency, in the age of identity politics, to delineate into false dichotomies. Those less traditionally minded--as seen in liberal churches, Catholic or Protestant--may compensate by being more active in parish activities, service, and social justice initiatives, while traditionalists are all about the Mass and not as concerned with those other things. I consider myself and my family more as guests in someone's house at this point when it comes to the Latin Mass community, so I don't feel like I have any right to make such judgments about a community that is not yet our own. But I will say one of the most important things, one of the primary motivators besides an integrity in worship and learning to subject my ego to Almighty God, is that we pass on the faith to our children, and I feel that the TLM community is the best place to try to do this in. Our son has already expressed an interest in being a server, and the fact that there is no formal training or manual but that the other boys (and boys only) learn simply by observations and teaching each other with help from the priest is impressive. They serve with military precision, which appeals to male sensibilities, I think.

On the point of charity, and why I think traditionalism combined with charity has the potential to be an unstoppable force for renewal...it wasn't until listening to a conference of Fr. Ripperger's that I realized that the 'love' in 1 Cor 13 is really more accurately translated as charity. I considered that kind invitation to attend a Latin Mass by that friend of a friend as an act of charity. I had until then considered the Latin Mass community to be more or less insular and an island of sorts by choice, not open to outsiders. All it took was an invitation to get us there, a kind of gentle and innocuous evangelization in its ordinariness. Coffee and donuts as a way of connecting with other families and homeschoolers once a month was an added bonus.

Coming from a more left-leaning Catholicism in my early years as a Catholic, serving the poor was an important part of my spiritual practice and faith, one that I have no intention of abandoning. I also do not want to fall into the trap of denigrating or comparing Masses or the people that attend them; though we have made the decision to attend the Latin Mass when we are able (which is most Sundays) because we feel this is where God is leading us as a family, I still attend the NO for daily Mass and have no qualms with it (unless there are serious liturgical abuses). I'm a "both/and" rather than an "either/or" guy at heart, I think, and this applies as much liturgically as it does to charity and service to the poor, evangelization, practicing the Works of Mercy, and loving people.

When it comes to loving, we love because He first loved us (1 Jn 4:19). The greatest commandment, the "Big Stone First", is to love the Lord God with everything we have. And yet we also see in 1 John that

Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also. (1 Jn 4:20-21)

I am still a noob, but as we have witnessed, the power of the traditional liturgy to give glory to God here on earth, and the power of witness in charity here on earth as a means of leading people closer to Heaven, seems to be in my mind an unstoppable force for renewal. When I reflect on the following words of Pope emeritus Benedict XVI, it is such traditionally minded communities that come to my mind:

“The future of the Church can and will issue from those whose roots are deep and who live from the pure fullness of their faith. It will not issue from those who accommodate themselves merely to the passing moment or from those who merely criticize others and assume that they themselves are infallible measuring rods; nor will it issue from those who take the easier road, who sidestep the passion of faith, declaring false and obsolete, tyrannous and legalistic, all that makes demands upon men, that hurts them and compels them to sacrifice themselves. To put this more positively: The future of the Church, once again as always, will be reshaped by saints, by men, that is, whose minds probe deeper than the slogans of the day, who see more than others see, because their lives embrace a wider reality. Unselfishness, which makes men free, is attained only through the patience of small daily acts of self-denial. By this daily passion, which alone reveals to a man in how many ways he is enslaved by his own ego, by this daily passion and by it alone, a man’s eyes are slowly opened. He sees only to the extent that he has lived and suffered. If today we are scarcely able any longer to become aware of God, that is because we find it so easy to evade ourselves, to flee from the depths of our being by means of the narcotic of some pleasure or other. Thus our own interior depths remain closed to us. If it is true that a man can see only with his heart, then how blind we are!

“How does all this affect the problem we are examining? It means that the big talk of those who prophesy a Church without God and without faith is all empty chatter. We have no need of a Church that celebrates the cult of action in political prayers. It is utterly superfluous. Therefore, it will destroy itself. What will remain is the Church of Jesus Christ, the Church that believes in the God who has become man and promises us life beyond death. The kind of priest who is no more than a social worker can be replaced by the psychotherapist and other specialists; but the priest who is no specialist, who does not stand on the [sidelines], watching the game, giving official advice, but in the name of God places himself at the disposal of man, who is beside them in their sorrows, in their joys, in their hope and in their fear, such a priest will certainly be needed in the future.

“Let us go a step farther. From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges. In contrast to an earlier age, it will be seen much more as a voluntary society, entered only by free decision. As a small society, it will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members. Undoubtedly it will discover new forms of ministry and will ordain to the priesthood approved Christians who pursue some profession. In many smaller congregations or in self-contained social groups, pastoral care will normally be provided in this fashion. Along-side this, the full-time ministry of the priesthood will be indispensable as formerly. But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her center: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer she will again recognize the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.

“The Church will be a more spiritual Church, not presuming upon a political mandate, flirting as little with the Left as with the Right. It will be hard going for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek. The process will be all the more arduous, for sectarian narrow-mindedness as well as pompous self-will will have to be shed. One may predict that all of this will take time. The process will be long and wearisome as was the road from the false progressivism on the eve of the French Revolution — when a bishop might be thought smart if he made fun of dogmas and even insinuated that the existence of God was by no means certain — to the renewal of the nineteenth century. But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church. Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely. If they have completely lost sight of God, they will feel the whole horror of their poverty. Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new. They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.

“And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death."

Famous Last Words

Blogging today, when you are a nobody like me, is a little like small-scale organic farming. You show up at the inefficient but quaint farmer's market each week, dutifully. People love your fresh brown eggs and parsnips. You might even have a unique treat you're known for, like home-grown morrells or apple-cider donuts, that draw a faithful dozen to your stand week after week. It's a nice group of people who meander through. The county newspaper did an article on your enterprise that highlighted the role of the local farmer. You know your efforts are not really 'worth it' the way big ag would calculate it, and you have to take a second job off the farm, but you are 'adding value' through community building, sustainable development, and micro-harvesting, and giving people a connection to their food with the hands who produced it. There is value there, an idealism being kept alive because of the people who support it.

I've been writing on Blogger since 2007, when blogging was in its prime. I had an eclectic blog titled Rob's Fobs that I retired after eight years. It consisted of poetry, short stories, plays, inventions, musings, and struggles with mental health. In 2015 I wanted to have a blog focused more narrowly on my life of faith, how I lived as a Catholic man, a husband, father, and disciple of Jesus Christ. Anything not having to do with faith, family, marriage, chastity, or discipleship I consciously omitted or (saved for Facebook). This was Wisdom and Folly. Prior to 2007, I blogged on (wait for it)...MySpace. I have always written, whether it was on scraps of lined notebook paper folded in the back pocket of my Gap corduroys in high school, or on a small NEC laptop in a rented room in Mexico, or pumping quarters into a desktop computer at an internet cafe in Bangkok...I've always written.

Blogging has always been a nice outlet for me. I've never tried to monetize my blog, and I'm proud of that for whatever reason. As the pastor Francis Chan said, "money makes people do weird things." I don't fault anyone for trying to make some bucks from their writing; I just felt I'd rather pick up trash from the curb and resell it on Craigslist as a way to bring in some extra cash rather than taint something I treat as a kind of sacred recreation. Writing, especially when it comes to matters of faith, isn't really valued among the general populace. Why should it be? Christ the Lord offers the Gospel as a means of salvation for all who would accept it free of charge, though it is worth more than the finest gold. And what percentage of the population joyfully hear it, take it to heart, and keep it close to their breast?

I like to offer what I write as a gift to whomever it may bless. I'm a 'take what's useful and leave the rest' kind of guy, and I imagine some of my readers are as well. I'm not big on exploiting controversy or capitalizing on the latest Church scandal or leveraging liberal nonsense as part of a conservative mouthpiece. I just write about what I feel prompted to write about as it comes, and if it pertains to faith, I entrust that intuition to the Holy Spirit to bless my efforts and keep me from error. Sometimes I'll jot down a few keywords on a bar napkin, or make a mental note during a homily at Mass, or get up in the middle of the night to pen something and stake it to a page before it expires. Writing is a compulsion and a curse. Always has been for me. A blessing and a curse.

I have always felt close to the words of the prophet Jeremiah, who wrote,

"But if I say, "I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot." (Jer 20:9)

Writers, even secular ones, know this to be painfully true, this spiritual constipation. Writers write. That's why blogging today feels like a lonely enterprise...because it's really not about the writing anymore. It's about SEO, monetizing, building your network, ad revenue, pay per click, etc. Though I love to write, I'm wondering if blogging has been co-opted enough that it's lost it's plausability as a legitimate hosting platform. That's a hard pill to swallow when you've invested, oh, the past 15 years or so building and feeding your blog with content. I did a XML export of all my blog content (367 posts over the past three years at Wisdom and Folly) for PDF/docx conversion, and it's a LOT. I want to keep it. I know my wife wants to keep it. It's the public part I'm struggling with.

I am not a journaler. What I write, I write to share. If no one is going to read it, I usually don't write it. This is a double-edged sword. Writing for an audience hones and focuses your content and helps you develop your voice and style, but it's hard to detach from the need for validation, to know what you're writing is being read, to track stats and analytics. So much ego in writing, and so wily. There is also the privacy aspect, and for my family's sake, the desire to keep a lower profile, and not to exploit those tender private moments I have with my children, as I am wont to do, for the world to see.

Some people have encouraged me to consider writing a book. At this point I have no plans to, but with the blog off the table, maybe it will move me closer to consideration. I will continue to write for Catholic Stand and maybe work on branching out to other Catholic publications as well. To all thoughts contrary, I'm not drying up in the material department. I could keep writing and churning out posts and content. In fact, I feel as fresh as ever. Which is even more reason why I feel God may be calling me to put this on the altar right now while things are in their prime.

I've never really 'fit' anywhere, another struggle for me and a reason I've enjoyed maintaining a kind of independence here on Blogger. I'm not a hardcore conservative and I'm not a hardcore liberal and I'm not a liturgist and I'm not a theologian, I'm not a stay at home mom, I'm not a Thomist, I'm not a social media guru, I'm not a super Catholic, I'm just some 38 year old guy trying to get to Heaven and bring his family with him and leaving a trail of words in his wake.

I will be embarking on a 90 day prayer discipline with a few other Catholic men starting on January 21st, which will require a good bit of focus, time in prayer and scripture, and asceticism. I've decided to keep the blog public until that day, at which point it will come down and be archived. If you want to reach out via the contact form, I may be able to send you a copy via email of every post ever written in PDF 'book' form, but only if you promise to keep it to yourself! I hope to have that done sometime this week. Please stay in touch by way of email, should we happen to connect in this way.

This is not an easy decision, and I don't even grasp fully why it needs to be this way. But I am trusting the conviction, that in hoping to honor God in all things and above all things, that I would tie my words to the altar and draw the knife if it's what He wants. He has His reasons; He knows what He is about. He is leading me somewhere deeper and I don't know where, and taking my prize possessions as collateral. Who knows, maybe He will give them back some day, maybe even a hundred fold? I honestly don't know what is ahead, or what kind of outlet I will have in place of this blog. I'm trusting Him. Though he slay me, I will trust him still. (Job 13:15)

Comments are open to the public, and are enabled. I am so grateful for your support, those who promoted Wisdom and Folly and those who simply took pleasure or solace in reading.

Please pray for me, and I for you.

In Christ,

Rob
12 January 2019

A Wallet Full Of Memories

As parents of three kids, my wife and I try to be intentional about carving out one on one time with our kids. Some wise Christian friends told us not to waste those little moments of running errands or being out and about--take a kid with you.

I decided to do this with my oldest this past Monday. I had stayed home from work because my wife was sick, and was going a little stir crazy near the end of the day. I decided to take my son to return some pants, stop by Lowes, and make a visit to the Adoration chapel to pray. He's been wanting to do everything dad does lately: wearing aftershave, hammering nails into wood, and asking about girls. If she could handle the other two kids for an hour, I would take the oldest out.

Everything was going great. We made an impromptu stop for ice cream. There were two other dads with their sons, which he noticed. It was "our place" and we shared a cone, and spun around on the bar stools. When we finished up, we headed to return the pants, but in the store things started to get derailed when he saw a toy he wanted and I said we couldn't get it. He got huffy, and then when we also emerged empty handed from Lowes, he started feeling like it was a wasted trip. When we got to the Adoration Chapel, he was upset and sulky. We both kneeled down to pray, him reluctantly at first. He started to blame God for things--He's not really there, He never answers my prayers, etc. I don't pray enough for my kids, but I prayed for him there, very intentionally, that he should never fall away from the Lord.

When we left the chapel, the waterworks began. He was upset because the memories we were making in the beginning of the afternoon, he loved them. "And then you had to RUIN EVERYTHING!" It wasn't what he expected. I knelt down to his level and tried to console him but he wasn't having it.

"You know D, we can make memories from anything. That's what's great about having an imagination. Anything can be a memory!"

He stopped crying for a moment and looked up, curious.

"Listen, I have an idea. Let's make a memory, something to remember between me and you, right now. Do you want to be my race car co-pilot? Yeah? Well, let's go."

I strapped him in, and started the car. "Okay, now listen, there's going to be a lot of drivers chasing us, so you have to have the smoke bombs ready. I'll try to lose them, but I'll need your  help."

He was listening, getting excited. "Okay."

We pulled out of the church parking lot and made a left to the highway. Soon enough, a car with headlights emerged in my rearview mirror. "Oh boy, D. Here we go."

"What?"

"Get the smoke bombs ready. I'll try to lose him."

I sped up. "We're losing him!" he cried. "Yeah, but there's a red light ahead. Get the smoke bomb ready!"

He was bouncing in his seat, excited. "Okay, bombs away!" He turned in his seat and threw an imaginary distraction at the guy behind us.

"We lost him!" I yelled, when the driver turned right and we turned left.

We continued to race and lose cars, throwing bombs all the way home. It was a silly game that boys love, that I loved growing up on vacation. I remembered it today, even with my lousy memory. By the time we got home, he was all smiles and told his mom and sister excitedly about everything we did. We managed to salvage a potential disaster with the power of imagination glued together with a few hours of borrowed time. It didn't cost us anything, and wasn't scheduled.

When we lose people we love, their memories sustain us. Memories are bonded to time, and they take place in real life, cached in the mind. They can also sear the heart, because we can never repeat them, only replay them. It's a kind of metaphysical currency we deal in. For a boy who has lost his dad, all he has of him are memories and mementos. If my kids ever lose me, I want them to have good ones that are worth their weight in gold.

The Sweet Box

I ran across an interesting article at Crisis the other day about Japanese-South Korea relations. It touched on the controversial issue of "comfort women" and "comfort stations" during World War II:

"The point of the comfort stations was to...meet the sexual needs of its troops and improve morale while preventing venereal disease and ensuring that troops did not engage in pillow talk with local, unlicensed prostitutes, who were often paid by enemy forces to extract information from military clients. Virtually every military in the Second World War, and in every war before that, used some version of the “comfort women” system. American General Claire Chennault even went so far as to fly in disease-free prostitutes from India for his syphilis-wracked pilots and mechanics in the Flying Tigers brigade in Kunming."

In France, mobile brothels were referred to as bordels mobile de campagne or BMCs. These BYOBs (bring your own brothel) were given creative euphemisms such as "la boîte à bonbons" (the sweet box). In Europe today, the usage is less dressed up and more crudely utilitarian. In Germany, drive-in sex garages are known as verrichtungsboxen, or “relief boxes,” and in the Netherlands afwerkplek which translates as "a place to finish the work."

If this seems like a degeneration unique to modern times, I imagine you would be mistaken. Prostitution, as they say, is the oldest profession. If there were no demand, there would be no supply. And there has always been demand.

On the one hand, governments and military are taking what they see as a pragmatic approach to not so much solve, but contain what they see as an inevitable issue. For GIs at risk of syphilis and gonorrhea (the US army discharged 10,000 soldiers and lost 7 million man days during WWII because of these STDs), supplying their own sex workers was meant to keep disease, rape (which had the potential to destabilize relations in the occupied regions, not to mention the egregious act itself on the local women), and leaking of military info to a minimum. Yet, what is not addressed is why the assumption that men cannot exercise self-control, that sexual needs are an absolute, and that one can only mitigate the risks of such activity, is taken as a given.

You could make the argument that the law of unintended consequences (both social, economic, and criminal) might be at play when such liberal policies are enacted. San Francisco mandated low-flow toilets and reeked havoc on their sewer system as a result. Colorado legalized recreational marijuana in an effort to tax and regulate it, yet did not anticipate the rise in black market export of cannabis over state lines. A 2012 study found countries where prostitution is legal experience greater “inflows” of human trafficking. Germany showed a sharp uptick in reports of trafficking after it legalized prostitution, and in Denmark, where prostitution is decriminalized, the number of trafficking victims spiked to more than four times that of neighboring Sweden, where the practice is illegal.

I see the assumption that A+B will always equal C in play as well when it comes to the use of artificial contraception and abortion. Proponents of greater access to birth control argue that if you want to reduce the number of abortions, make birth control more widely available, and educate on its use. Slam dunk. But despite how easy and accessible birth control is today, it has not made abortion obsolete. Even Planned Parenthood's own research admits that 54% of women seeking abortions were using contraception at the time they got pregnant.

But this is not a social issue post. I don't know how to solve these societal issues on the macro scale. But I want to take the opportunity to talk about this idea of 'unfathomable' chastity as it pertains to men.

The sexual appetite is strong, and chastity as a virtue is not easy to attain. It reminds me of the scripture, when Jesus tells the disciples about the rich entering the Kingdom in Mt 19:23-26:

“Truly I say to you, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” When the disciples heard this, they were very astonished and said, “Then who can be saved?” And looking at them Jesus said to them, “With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

It's not just hard, it's impossible. It's interesting that these words of our Lord come in Matthew's Gospel right after his words on marriage and divorce. Servant of God Fr. John Hardon, SJ, wrote:

"I never tire repeating that without Holy Communion, it is impossible to practice the charity which Christ demands of His followers. Plain logic tells us that, if this is true, neither can we practice Christian chastity without the frequent, even daily, reception of the Holy Eucharist. It is not only that our own frequent, even daily, assistance at Mass is a powerful source of chaste living. The Holy Sacrifice, offered on so many altars, is a reservoir of divine strength against the demon of lust for all mankind."

Note the relationship between charity and chastity. And chastity is not just "not having sex with prostitutes," or not masturbating. It is a purity of heart, for the married and unmarried alike. I have been listening to St. Francis de Sales' "Introduction to the Devout Life" while driving in the car. In the chapter on purity, he writes,

"Remember that there are things which blemish perfect purity, without being in themselves downright acts of impurity. Anything which tends to lessen its intense sensitiveness, or to cast the slightest shadow over it, is of this nature; and all evil thoughts or foolish acts of levity or heedlessness are as steps towards the most direct breaches of the law of chastity. Avoid the society of persons who are wanting in purity, especially if they are bold, as indeed impure people always are."

Modern man thinks of the sexual appetite in animalistic terms with no regard to the faculty of reason. Like an animal, he cannot help himself with these urges anymore than one can go days without eating or going to the bathroom, so focus on minimizing the fallout (disease, legal repercussions, pregnancy). This reduction of sex for men to the equivalent of relieving oneself on the toilet has lead to a bottoming out in poverty not only in the spiritual elements of sex, but in our regard for the sanctity of life, the dignity of women, and confusion over what constitutes appropriate sexual boundaries. Why should we be surprised women (and children!) are trafficked to feed the demand for sexual gratification, however heinous or perverted, abortion is so widespread, and sexual confusion so pervasive?

When I think of my time before coming to Christ, and even early on in my conversion before I had a firm grasp of the standard Christ calls us to, the idea of chastity of mind, heart, and body did seem unattainable. I mean, literally. But the victory does not come by sheer human effort or gritting teeth, but by grace. God has given me a new heart (Ezekiel 36:26) and has done things for me I was unable to do alone by my own will and strength, to purify my mind, my memory, and my heart.

We are not animals, we are men of reason, and though we will always struggle, the abandonment of our wills to the flesh is not unavoidable or only to be contained. Christ does not lower the bar to meet our weakness, but raises us up by his grace to higher heights to make us perfect as he is perfect and gives us a new heart, a new mind. He gives us the grace we need, and we should be indebted to a Christian ethos that values so highly the dignity of women, upholds the Natural Law, and the model of monogamous marriage. It is a complete paradigm shift that holds even thoughts liable to judgment. It demands a lot, but offers much as well.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." 

(Prov 3:5-6)

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