rotten at its core

After the March for Life, the students and I spent the weekend as tourists in the Washington, D.C. area.  The nice thing about our nation’s capital is the plethora of free activities — the monuments and memorials, the Smithsonians, and National Archives — and we tried to see as much as we could.

Our first stop was the Natural History Museum, partly because there was an interest in seeing the Hope Diamond.  It’s a fun and beautiful museum, although it unfortunately feels the need to push an agenda on its visitors.  But we all just ignored it and enjoyed seeing the animals, vegetables, and minerals.  Until I was pushed too far.

We were in the Hall of Mammals, which the museum feels the need to present as if you’re looking at photo albums from your great-great-grandmother.  There’s already an exhibit celebrating the 150th anniversary of Darwin’s Origin of Species– I don’t see the need for them to tell me while I’m walking through the Hall of Mammals that I’m looking at my family history.  Thanks.

But the museum is beautiful and the animals impressive, so we were enjoying ourselves.  Until I saw the following seemingly-innocuous plaque:

I’m sorry… what?!

I pointed it out to the students and used it as an opportunity to show them (and everyone within earshot of my big mouth, extra loud with indignation) what is wrong with that statement – a statement that most people — teachers, children, adults– pass by and take in without the least thought.

Yes, my physical traits place me in the classification “animal,” and I don’t deny that I’m a mammal.  But it’s that second statement that worries me so.   “Your cultural traits  — such as language and art — help make you a human being.”

Those help make me a human being?  Or are those outwards manifestations of something else that sets me apart?

If we follow this to its core, what about the woman in vegetative state, lying in bed, unable to communicate or appreciate Monet or Vivaldi?  Is she human?

What about the newborn baby, depending on the outside world for its very survival, its blue eyes shining up at its mother with utter trust?  Is she human?

Yes, our ability to produce great works of art and our faculties that enable us to communicate orally or in a written way do set us apart from the other mammals.  But we have these abilities because of our intellect– something that other mammals will never have, regardless of how smart Lassie and Flipper seem.

And, to go farther (at which point we’ll lose the Smithsonian crowd)- we have a spiritual soul, given to us by God.  The immortal soul of man sets him apart from the mammals, allowing him to paint like Raphael, sculpt like Michaelangelo, speak like Cicero, write like Shakespeare.

Last night, on a special on television, I saw a 1 lb 6 oz baby lying in her incubator, perfectly and beautifully formed, facing the world, albeit a little earlier than she expected to — and I thought back to this statement.  This little girl had no art, no language– nothing but her immortal soul, her little body, and a loving family.

I started to cry, out of the sheer joy and thankfulness that we live in a world where she will survive, despite her early departure from the womb.  But in the pit of my stomach, there was a knot– thinking of the cruel world we live in, where society is willing to define man by his work, his abilities, his potential.

The March for Life was a beautiful witness.  But is our work in vain?  Are the philosophical underpinnings of our society so rotten to the core?  If they are, and if society continues to brainwash us with such ridiculous statements, the unborn will never be seen as people.  Because we will have shown with false philosophy that they aren’t.

The real battle is in the culture, in the hearts of the people.  Will you fall for the rhetoric?  Or will you see the lies when they are sold to you?

 

the Manhattan Declaration

I have about ten posts in my head.  I wish I could write all day.

I definitely wish I could write more about this: the Manhattan Declaration.  It is a declaration signed by leaders from every branch of American Christianity, announcing that we will stand firm against the tide as it pushes against the sanctity of life & marriage and the rights of conscience and religious liberty.  We will not compromise our beliefs, even if it means civil disobedience.  (You can read the Declaration and sign it here.)

I wish you heard more about it on the news, because it’s kind of a big deal.  Depending on the road down which our country chooses to travel, it may go down in history, a phrase bolded in textbooks.

(Do you ever think of life like that?  That someday a junior in high school will be reading his textbook and one of the paragraph headings will be “Healthcare Reform” in the chapter on the early 2000’s, or one of his vocabulary words will be “the Manhattan Declaration” ??  It could happen, you know.  People in the 1940s probably never thought “the Manhattan Project” would be a vocabulary word in a textbook, and it was in mine.  Well, they didn’t even know the Manhattan Project existed.  But that’s besides the point.)

Anyway, I really believe the Manhattan Declaration will be huge.  It is huge, but no one is paying attention to it.  Because it’s inconvenient.

So I don’t have time to blog about it, but here is an interesting article written from an international viewpoint, by a very good journalist in Rome, Sandro Magister: The Manhattan Declaration: The Manifesto That’s Shaking America.

Please consider signing the Declaration yourself.  Stand up for your rights.  Witness to your faith.  Take your place in history.

 

Formed from the dust of the earth

This post was intended for November 2nd, but I’ve learned that I can’t force a post– and it just wasn’t coming to me on the 2nd.  Everything was there but the words.  Since the entire month of November is dedicated to remembering those who died, though, I don’t think it’s inappropriate to write today.

This subject has been on my mind for quite some time, actually, and the only reason I haven’t written about it before now is that it’s definitely bigger than what I’m prepared to tackle in a little blog post.  Whole books have been written on the subject, and since I haven’t read any of them, it’s daunting to try to come here and say anything coherent.

But that doesn’t stop me from trying.

I had a conversation a few years ago with my mom about mausoleums.  I never had to face a mausoleum until my grandfather died.  It wasn’t the first funeral of a grandparent I experienced, but it was the first time I stood inside a building to watch a burial.  And it was strange-  I won’t lie.  In fact, I had to leave and walk outside.

There was something odd about mourning in a sterile, staged environment.  The armchairs in the hallway, the Catholic muzak piped throughout the rooms, the coldness of the air-conditioning in the Indiana summer day.

Everything was thought through to be perfect– comforting and pleasant to grieving families.  So it wasn’t.  It was as if the world was telling me, “It’s okay.  We’re here for you,” … in that fake smiley sort of way that reeks of superficiality.

It wasn’t okay.  My grandfather had died.  I didn’t need any fake sentiment, and I certainly didn’t need to hear Be Not Afraid ala dentist’s waiting-room.

To clarify, this is to say nothing against that particular cemetery/mausoleum.  I don’t doubt that sincere, well-intentioned people work there and I’m sure they would never want to convey a mere superficial attitude toward grieving families.   It was the mausoleum environment itself against which my insides rebelled at that moment.

I stood facing the reality of death, and the raw feelings inside of me did not want to be soothed by an attempt to mask the reality.  They sought the tumultuous, unrestrained surroundings of creation.

I wanted to stand in the elements of nature – the grass under my feet, the wind against my tear-streaked face- and watch my grandfather’s casket go into the earth.

Death is real.  It faces us all.  And I think the more we try to whitewash the reality, the harder it is to accept.  Remember, man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Our society, this culture that John Paul II named ‘the culture of death,’ fears death.  It believes in killing a baby in order to save a woman’s life.  Why?  Fear of death.   This world condones euthanasia — not because it really believes in “good death,” but because it can’t stand to face something it cannot control.  Through assisted suicide, man can control what he fears most.

The Christian does not fear death, because the Christian knows it has been conquered in the cross of Christ.  Christ’s death on the Cross meant that death was no longer an affliction, but a victory.  Only the culture that understands death and embraces it for what it is– a return to the Creator and an embrace of what man was made for (eternal Trinitarian communion)– can fully live.

Even with this understanding, however, facing the reality of death is a heart-wrenching act.   Even your faith and hope cannot erase the natural pain you feel at someone’s death.  In his Confessions, St. Augustine writes about his feelings at the death of his mother Monica.  His full understanding of heaven and the nature of death did not change the grief his heart felt.

“We felt it was not fitting that her funeral should be solemnized with moaning and weeping and lamentation, for so it is normal to weep when death is seen as sheer misery or complete extinction.  But she had not died miserably, nor did she wholly die.  Of the one thing we were sure by reason of her character, of the other by the reality of our faith.  What then was it that grieved my heart so deeply?”

Augustine finally accepts that grief is a natural emotion in response to death. “Because I had now lost the great comfort of her, my soul was wounded and my very life torn asunder, for it had been one life made of hers and mine together.”   He eventually let himself weep.  “Now I let flow the tears which I had held back so that they ran as freely as they wished.  My heart rested upon them, and it reclined upon them because it was Your ears that were there, not those of some human critic who would put a proud interpretation on my weeping.”

The Christian grieves and rejoices at the same time.  These two contrary emotions were reconciled to each other on Good Friday, as our Blessed Mother stood and watched her Son conquer.

The one who fears death cannot rejoice in it.  And the one who does not embrace death cannot grieve.

We must face the reality of death to fully understand it, and we must understand it in order to more fully live.

Cemeteries lie overgrown and unvisited, for our world would rather not be reminded of their own mortality.   If we’re going to be reminded of it, at least let the surroundings be comfortable–staged and sterile– so it’s a little less disconcerting.  We don’t want to think about our bodies being dropped into the cold earth.

Remember, man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Go forth, Christian soul, from this world
in the name of God the almighty Father,
who created you,
in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God,
who suffered for you,
in the name of the Holy Spirit,
who was poured out upon you.
Go forth, faithful Christian!

May you live in peace this day,
may your home be with God in Zion,
with Mary, the virgin Mother of God,
with Joseph, and all the angels and saints. . . .

May you return to [your Creator]
who formed you from the dust of the earth.
May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints
come to meet you as you go forth from this life. . . .
May you see your Redeemer face to face.
-Prayer of Commendation

 

Home run for Archbishop Dolan

Archbishop Timothy Dolan has an excellent piece in his diocesan newspaper.  Too excellent for the New York Times, who wouldn’t publish it as an op-ed piece.

Anti-Catholicism

October 29, 2009

The following article was submitted in a slightly shorter form to the New York Times as an op-ed article. The Times declined to publish it. I thought you might be interested in reading it.

FOUL BALL!
By Archbishop Timothy M. Dolan
Archbishop of New York

October is the month we relish the highpoint of our national pastime, especially when one of our own New York teams is in the World Series!

Sadly, America has another national pastime, this one not pleasant at all: anti-catholicism.

It is not hyperbole to call prejudice against the Catholic Church a national pastime. Scholars such as Arthur Schlesinger Sr. referred to it as “the deepest bias in the history of the American people,” while John Higham described it as “the most luxuriant, tenacious tradition of paranoiac agitation in American history.” “The anti-semitism of the left,” is how Paul Viereck reads it, and Professor Philip Jenkins sub-titles his book on the topic “the last acceptable prejudice.”

If you want recent evidence of this unfairness against the Catholic Church, look no further than a few of these following examples of occurrences over the last couple weeks:

• On October 14, in the pages of the New York Times, reporter Paul Vitello exposed the sad extent of child sexual abuse in Brooklyn’s Orthodox Jewish community. According to the article, there were forty cases of such abuse in this tiny community last year alone. Yet the Times did not demand what it has called for incessantly when addressing the same kind of abuse by a tiny minority of priests: release of names of abusers, rollback of statute of limitations, external investigations, release of all records, and total transparency. Instead, an attorney is quoted urging law enforcement officials to recognize “religious sensitivities,” and no criticism was offered of the DA’s office for allowing Orthodox rabbis to settle these cases “internally.” Given the Catholic Church’s own recent horrible experience, I am hardly in any position to criticize our Orthodox Jewish neighbors, and have no wish to do so . . . but I can criticize this kind of “selective outrage.”

Of course, this selective outrage probably should not surprise us at all, as we have seen many other examples of the phenomenon in recent years when it comes to the issue of sexual abuse. To cite but two: In 2004, Professor Carol Shakeshaft documented the wide-spread problem of sexual abuse of minors in our nation’s public schools (the study can be found here). In 2007, the Associated Press issued a series of investigative reports that also showed the numerous examples of sexual abuse by educators against public school students. Both the Shakeshaft study and the AP reports were essentially ignored, as papers such as the New York Times only seem to have priests in their crosshairs.

• On October 16, Laurie Goodstein of the Times offered a front page, above-the-fold story on the sad episode of a Franciscan priest who had fathered a child. Even taking into account that the relationship with the mother was consensual and between two adults, and that the Franciscans have attempted to deal justly with the errant priest’s responsibilities to his son, this action is still sinful, scandalous, and indefensible. However, one still has to wonder why a quarter-century old story of a sin by a priest is now suddenly more pressing and newsworthy than the war in Afghanistan, health care, and starvation–genocide in Sudan. No other cleric from religions other than Catholic ever seems to merit such attention.

• Five days later, October 21, the Times gave its major headline to the decision by the Vatican to welcome Anglicans who had requested union with Rome. Fair enough. Unfair, though, was the article’s observation that the Holy See lured and bid for the Anglicans. Of course, the reality is simply that for years thousands of Anglicans have been asking Rome to be accepted into the Catholic Church with a special sensitivity for their own tradition. As Cardinal Walter Kasper, the Vatican’s chief ecumenist, observed, “We are not fishing in the Anglican pond.” Not enough for the Times; for them, this was another case of the conniving Vatican luring and bidding unsuspecting, good people, greedily capitalizing on the current internal tensions in Anglicanism.

• Finally, the most combustible example of all came Sunday with an intemperate and scurrilous piece by Maureen Dowd on the opinion pages of the Times. In a diatribe that rightly never would have passed muster with the editors had it so criticized an Islamic, Jewish, or African-American religious issue, she digs deep into the nativist handbook to use every anti-Catholic caricature possible, from the Inquisition to the Holocaust, condoms, obsession with sex, pedophile priests, and oppression of women, all the while slashing Pope Benedict XVI for his shoes, his forced conscription — along with every other German teenage boy — into the German army, his outreach to former Catholics, and his recent welcome to Anglicans.

True enough, the matter that triggered her spasm — the current visitation of women religious by Vatican representatives — is well-worth discussing, and hardly exempt from legitimate questioning. But her prejudice, while maybe appropriate for the Know-Nothing newspaper of the 1850’s, the Menace, has no place in a major publication today.

I do not mean to suggest that anti-catholicism is confined to the pages New York Times. Unfortunately, abundant examples can be found in many different venues. I will not even begin to try and list the many cases of anti-catholicism in the so-called entertainment media, as they are so prevalent they sometimes seem almost routine and obligatory. Elsewhere, last week, Representative Patrick Kennedy made some incredibly inaccurate and uncalled-for remarks concerning the Catholic bishops, as mentioned in this blog on Monday. Also, the New York State Legislature has levied a special payroll tax to help the Metropolitan Transportation Authority fund its deficit. This legislation calls for the public schools to be reimbursed the cost of the tax; Catholic schools, and other private schools, will not receive the reimbursement, costing each of the schools thousands – in some cases tens of thousands – of dollars, money that the parents and schools can hardly afford. (Nor can the archdiocese, which already underwrites the schools by $30 million annually.) Is it not an issue of basic fairness for ALL school-children and their parents to be treated equally?

The Catholic Church is not above criticism. We Catholics do a fair amount of it ourselves. We welcome and expect it. All we ask is that such critique be fair, rational, and accurate, what we would expect for anybody. The suspicion and bias against the Church is a national pastime that should be “rained out” for good.

I guess my own background in American history should caution me not to hold my breath.

Then again, yesterday was the Feast of Saint Jude, the patron saint of impossible causes.

 

Freedom, the Academy, and the State

Over a month ago, the Holy Father traveled to the Czech Republic.  Next month, the county will celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the Velvet Revolution, when the Communist regime was overthrown and freedom was restored.  Not surprisingly, most of the Holy Father’s addresses and homilies drew upon the ideas of freedom, justice and the reign of truth.

The day before he departed to return to Italy, Pope Benedict addressed the academic community of the Czech Republic with a speech in Prague Castle.   It’s not a long speech, and I’d recommend reading it here.   As always, he teaches with such clarity and insight.

He focused on the idea of academic freedom.   As in his other messages during those days, he recalled the effects of totalitarian rule in the country.  He reaffirmed the importance of the universities’ autonomy — as we all know, when a totalitarian regime takes over a country, it will always take over the academy and attempt to control thought.  The Holy Father reminded the academy, however, that “the proper autonomy of a university, or indeed any educational institution, finds meaning in its accountability to the authority of truth.” (emphasis here, and in the following quotes, mine.)

He reminded his audience that academic freedom has a purpose.  It is not freedom for the sake of freedom, but freedom to pursue truth.  “The freedom that underlies the exercise of reason – be it in a university or in the Church – has a purpose: it is directed to the pursuit of truth, and as such gives expression to a tenet of Christianity which in fact gave rise to the university.”

This perhaps brings up the age old question of Pilate: What is truth?  Is it subjective or objective?  Can it be found at all?

In his address the day before to civil and political authorities, the Holy Father answered Pilate: “For Christians, truth has a name: God.”

After referring to the triumph of truth over totalitarianism that the country witnessed in 1989, the Holy Father cautioned the academy.  He first warned them against the “fragmentation of knowledge” that arises today in the face of the “massive growth in information and technology,” where education is viewed as a gathering of facts, severing reason from the pursuit of truth.  Then he warned against the relativism that comes from this weakening of reason:

“The relativism that ensues provides a dense camouflage behind which new threats to the autonomy of academic institutions can lurk.  While the period of interference from political totalitarianism has passed, is it not the case that frequently, across the globe, the exercise of reason and academic research are – subtly and not so subtly – constrained to bow to the pressures of ideological interest groups and the lure of short-term utilitarian or pragmatic goals?”

These are powerful words from our Holy Father.  Anyone with the slightest bit of contact with a public university has to find themselves nodding to that last sentence.  And let’s not just point fingers at public universities.  We all know of examples of private universities, who so proudly wave the banner of “academic freedom!!” whenever they do something to betray their founders or identity.  They too are bound in chains to public opinion, political correctness, and… money.

The Holy Father continues:   “What will happen if our culture builds itself only on fashionable arguments, with little reference to a genuine historical intellectual tradition, or on the viewpoints that are most vociferously promoted and most heavily funded?  What will happen if in its anxiety to preserve a radical secularism, it detaches itself from its life-giving roots?”

He has an interesting answer:  “Our societies will not become more reasonable or tolerant or adaptable but rather more brittle and less inclusive, and they will increasingly struggle to recognize what is true, noble and good.”

Exactly the opposite of what they all claim to be, no?

It all comes down to truth.  When you get that wrong, you get it all wrong.

“In the end, “fidelity to man requires fidelity to the truth, which alone is the guarantee of freedom” (Caritas in Veritate, 9). This confidence in the human ability to seek truth, to find truth and to live by the truth led to the foundation of the great European universities.  Surely we must reaffirm this today in order to bring courage to the intellectual forces necessary for the development of a future of authentic human flourishing, a future truly worthy of man.”

What is the goal of the university?  To become a premier research institution?  To have an acclaimed faculty that is published and esteemed?  To raise large endowments?

What is education?  Is it an accumulation of facts?  Acquiring a warehouse of skills?  Completing a certain number of requisites in order to earn that piece of paper that says “diploma” on the top of it?

In my favorite part of his address, the Holy Father reminded the professors that their mission is far greater:  “From the time of Plato, education has been not merely the accumulation of knowledge or skills, but paideia, human formation in the treasures of an intellectual tradition directed to a virtuous life.”

Wow.  Tell that to a state school.  Can you even say the word “virtue” in those halls?

He continues, “While the great universities springing up throughout Europe during the middle ages aimed with confidence at the ideal of a synthesis of all knowledge, it was always in the service of an authentic humanitas, the perfection of the individual within the unity of a well-ordered society.  And likewise today: once young people’s understanding of the fullness and unity of truth has been awakened, they relish the discovery that the question of what they can know opens up the vast adventure of how they ought to be and what they ought to do.”

Is that what is happening in our universities, who are so quick to hide behind the phrase “academic freedom”?  Do they realize that true academic freedom calls for the pursuit of truth and acquisition of virtue, not the lemming march to the politically-correct drum?  That it requires fidelity to what is true, noble, and good, not the pledge of allegiance to the latest ideological trend?

A society which allows itself to be hypnotized in the academy by the State will soon be conquered and ruled by the State.  Where are we headed?

 

Quarrels in the prolife movement

Sometimes I have posts brewing in my head for awhile.  It’s usually a good thing that they sit up there and simmer so that when they finally come out of my fingers, they’re a big more refined.

This post, for example, is completely different than the post I was about to write last night, partly because my nightly reading included a passage from 2 Tim 2, which reminded me, “Have nothing to do with stupid, senseless controversies; you know that they breed quarrels.”

The subject of the controversy and quarrel I was going to write about is not stupid or senseless, nor are the possible effects of the quarrel.  Indeed, both the subject and the possible effects are quite grave.   But I think Paul has some good advice, both in 2 Tim and in today’s first reading, Ephesians 4.  The more people who stick their noses in controversies, the greater the fight that breaks out, and the greater the disruption of unity, which is so damaging to the Church.

I was going to detail the controversy here, but changed my mind after I realized that the biggest problem is the prolonging of the quarrel by the interference of outside parties.  To simplify, there is a fight amongst prolifers that has become public and messy.  What began on a blog with a priest warning prolifers against becoming hateful and self-righteous, soon turned into false accusations and hateful remarks being thrown around by various people, many of whom know little about the real, original situation.  It seems  everyone wants to get the last word in the argument, even prolife leaders who had nothing to do with the initial discussion.

As a result, the devil is succeeding in further dividing both the prolife movement and the Catholic Church.  It is a shameful display of disunity, perpetuated by passions and egos and misunderstandings, all contrary to the Gospel message.  As Paul reminds us in today’s first reading, “I, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (Eph 4).

This did not need to be a public fight.  It did not need to splinter the Church or divide the prolife movement.  But it has, and it will continue to, unless we all rise above it.

Much of it comes down to this: there are radicals in the prolife movement who do nothing to help the cause by their self-righteous, bull-headed behavior, and they eclipse what the prolife movement is really about: imago Dei.

Abortion is a horrible crime against humanity and needs to be fought.  But it is part of a much bigger problem.  Our culture no longer recognizes the imago Dei in each person– the fact that each person– regardless of age, health, color, education, or political stance– is created in the image and likeness of God and has an inherent human dignity.

When members of the prolife movement engage in verbal denigration, backbiting, or public displays that lack respect for anyone involved… well, their message begins to ring hollow.  Do we have the obligation to speak up when the truth is attacked?  Yes!  Do we have the right to speak with passion for what we believe in and hold dear?  Yes!

Do we have the obligation to always speak with gentleness and compassion?  Yes.

St. Paul continues in his reminder to Timothy, “Have nothing to do with stupid, senseless controversies; you know that they breed quarrels.  And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kindly to every one, an apt teacher, forbearing, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant that they will repent and come to know the truth,  and they may escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will.”

I was thankful I read that passage before posting.

Let us stop attacking each other and work together to bring about the civilization of love in this country.  Not a false love that lacks truth and settles for false unity under the banner of relativism, but also not a false truth that lacks the virtue of charity.

 

Musings on Fame

Tonight I had the privilege of picking up Father Thomas Rosica, CSB from the airport.   For many reasons, Father Rosica is one of my personal heroes.  Here is a man who truly is a John Paul II priest– someone who loves the youth and calls them to something higher– because he knows their capacity for greatness.  Here is a man who transformed a university’s Newman Center and was then appointed to head the entire 2002 World Youth Day and Papal Visit to Canada.  Here is a man who, through the grace of God and a stubborn Italian man, agreed to become CEO of a Canadian Catholic Television Network, Salt+Light, a network that has brought the Church, the Pope, and the saints into average homes and made the Church accessible to everyone.  Here is a man who has been appointed by the Holy Father to work at the 2008 Synod of Bishops– and as a result of his work, set the American Church alive with excitement of the Synod.  Here is a man appointed by the Holy Father as consultor to the Pontifical Council of Social Communications.

Here is a man who has eaten breakfast with John Paul II.  Who shares inside jokes with Pope Benedict.  Who just had an exclusive interview with Bishop Fellay (a man who has only granted one other interivew in his entire life) and who just emailed the Vatican this afternoon about said interview.

Who has helped water the seeds, planted by John Paul II, that are blooming into the new Springtime of the Church.

This was the man I picked up at the airport.

While I stood with my mom and waited for him to arrive, there was a slight commotion about three feet to my left.  I watched as people surrounded a short African-American man, putting their arms around him to take pictures with him and impeding his walk to the exit.  Clearly annoyed with being held up, he stood still for “just one more” picture, then went on his way with his entourage.

After years of saying, “I just want to see someone famous.  Randomly.  Like in an airport” … after months of living in Nashville and complaining that I still haven’t seen that famous person, despite living a few miles away from Al Gore and Nicole Kidman, here was my chance.  I saw a famous person.

I just didn’t know who he was.

I finally asked the airport workers who were standing there next to me, who had witnessed the event as well.  Why, that was Randy Jackson.  The American Idol judge.

Hm.  Here was a man being fawned over by random people in the airport.  Here was a man who is known by the average American for his work [sic] sitting behind a table and critiquing people’s vocal skills.  Here was a man who seemed to care less about the strangers who rushed to get close to him.  Here was fame.

When my mom thanked Father Rosica for coming, he said, “I wouldn’t let her down.”

Me.  Little me.  And you know what?  He proceeded to talk to me this evening and actually cared about me.

Here may not have been “fame,” but I’ll tell you what– the man with whom I walked out of the airport is making a difference in the world.  Far more than any American Idol judge.

 

The Passion of the Christian

I saw a preview the other day for the show Glee.  Even if it’s not any good, the network desperately wants it to be, because we’ve already seen a lot of hype in that direction and it doesn’t air until the Fall.  But watching the preview of that show made me think back to my own time in high school choir.  It seems that the experience of the director in Glee was the same as our director– once the popular kids got involved, the choir would take off.  It mattered whether or not choir was seen as something “popular” for it to be successful.  That was definitely the case in my high school.  When the popular kids got involved and it wasn’t seen as a nerdy activity, choir really took off and we became very good–partly because the director was able to tap a lot of talent from a lot of different groups that would have otherwise remained isolated: the jocks, the academics, the quiet kids, the musicians that would have been in choir anyway.   All those groups came together to form a very good choir, simply because choir became something you could do without worrying about being ostracized.  Like so many other programs for the arts at that time, we saw a lot of persecution from the powers that be, and like so many other stories we’ve heard, the arts were denied funding, etc.  For some odd reason it seemed as though the school wanted the basketball team to succeed far more than the choir– so eventually our choir director was let go (for a number of reasons) and the choir is now back to being its mediocre self with ten members. 

But I was reflecting on why we were so good besides the popularity aspect, and one thing I can say about our choir director is that he had passion for music.  A Vietnam vet who was very disillusiioned with what he saw in Vietnam, even more disillusioned with how he was treated when he returned from Vietnam, our choir director didn’t seem to be passionate about many things.  But one thing he was passionate about was music (and the other thing he was passionate about was our country–the country that he had served).

And we responded to this, whether we knew it or not.  We responded to his passion and his love for music with a recipriocated love for music.  In thinking about all this, another teacher was brought to mind — a teacher who recently retired after many years of service to the school.  He retired shortly after his 88th birthday.  He gave so much to that school, even beyond his few class periods, and he was held as a role model by many of the students.  I was thinking back to this teacher and how many lives he had touched in the classroom and out, and I realized again that it was his passion that made him so appealing and such a role model.  It wasn’t his teaching style, quite frankly, that made him a great teacher.   Sometimes he merely sat at his desk and lectured.   But we responded to him — very well — because he was so passionate about what he was teaching.  Whether he was teaching us the roots of every day words or vocabulary or Scripture, we responded to him because we knew he loved what he was doing and he taught with a passion.

I think one of the great errors of our day is that Christians are not passionate.  Sometimes the passions are falsely seen as bad things.  Perhaps we confuse our passions with sins — with lust or intemperance– rather than seeing that the passions are God-given.  The passions are good when ordered toward our final end.

So while the sin of anger certainly exists, there’s also righteous anger that should rise up in us when we see something contrary to nature, when we see something contrary to our final end.  I think a lot of times Christians think that they need to squelch their passions such that they become this boring individual with very little life in them.  For Pete’s sake, when you see someone like this, with no expression– who wants to emulate that?  Who wants to be like that?

But when you see someone full of life, full of happiness, full of joy, and in the right circumstances, angry at an injustice– sure, you want to be like them.  G.K.Chesterton said the Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting- it has been found difficult and left untried.   It’s hard for us today to regulate our passions and to use them for the good. Surrounded by our sex-ed up culture, it’s hard to see that lust is a sin and that we can’t act on every desire that rises up in our hearts.  But this doesn’t negate the value of passions.

We should be angry at what is happening in our culture.  We should be angry at the abuse of the great gift of sex.  We should be angry at the murder of innocent children in the womb.  We should be angry that our tax dollars are being used for research on embryos and for population control.   And yet we let our President get away with a radical agenda because “he’s a nice guy.”  We don’t speak the truth because we don’t want to make waves in the workplace.

If Christians were more passionate people, not only would more get done around here– we would be people that someone looked at and thought, “I want to be like them.”

Mother Teresa is a perfect example of someone full of passion.  If you ever saw or heard Mother Teresa get angry over abortion, you knew she was a passionate woman.  And people loved her — people saw something in her that they wanted.  Christ was a passionate person.  He got angry.  He got cried.  He laughed.  (It never says in Scripture that He laughed, but it’s hard to believe He never did.  How could you not laugh, surrounded by those twelve men!)

I think we need to return to that passion.  Pope Paul VI said, “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.”   This is crucial for us.  We need to be witnesses to the truth.  The two teachers mentioned above were witnesses  to what they held dear, to what they valued, and we responded to it.  

So if anyone ever thinks that the young generation is unresponsive or hard to get through …  it’s because the teachers are not living the life they’re preaching, they’re not living a life that reflects what they hold dear.

“Be watchful, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong.  Let all that you do be done in love.” (1 Cor 16:13-14)

Notice Paul doesn’t say “be a spineless pansy.”

 

keep lowering the bar

Obama met with credit card executives today for credit card reform.

Perhaps I’m naive to think that credit card reform isn’t one of the roles of government.

Look at these statistics: “U.S. credit-card debt has increased by 25 percent in the past 10 years, reaching $963 billion by January, according to figures released by the White House. The average outstanding credit card debt for households that have a credit card was $10,679 at the end of 2008, according to CreditCard.com, an online marketplace designed to link consumers and card issuers.”

These are serious problems. What’s the remedy? Let’s pass a law for credit card reform!

These problems are certainly not caused by Americans who don’t know how to use a credit card, who don’t understand the nature of credit, who irresponsibly are spending money they don’t have, or who have lost any idea of self-control.

Of course not! It’s the fault of credit card companies, who are out to *gasp* make money off of people with no self-control!

Bad credit card companies! We must waste our time writing legislation to stop you!

Forget the fact that people need to learn how to control themselves and control their spending. Forget the whole idea of responsibility for one’s own actions.

If there’s debt, it’s not the fault of the person in debt! It must be the fault of the system!

Of course, these are the views of a president and Congress who irresponsibly are spending money they don’t have and who have lost any idea of self-control.

We can’t expect you to be accountable for your actions.  Here, have a condom.

 

Into Great Silence

This past week, I had a movie night for my students.  The movie had been requested by one of the young men, so although I had my doubts about its ability to attract college students, I went with it.

Into Great Silence.

I hesitate to even write about it.  To find words for this film, nay, this experience, seems to betray it at its very core.

I doubted the whole thing.  I wondered how I could watch a movie for three hours in complete silence.  And while we did break it up (we’re watching the second half tomorrow), all I can say is that you just have to give it a chance.  Sit there in silence and take it in.  Stop doubting.  Just watch.  Let go.  And you’ll find yourself slipping into a peacefulness that you haven’t felt since you were six or seven years old.

A few observations on the viewing:

In the first several minutes of the movie, the loudness of the room around us was apparent.  I instinctively wanted to turn up the volume, as if that would make the silence cover the cacophony of noises that surrounded us.  Noises we hadn’t even noticed five minutes earlier.  A Coke machine hummed.  A refrigerator kicked on.  Someone drove by outside.  A siren screeched from the hospital next door.  A speck of dust landed on the couch.

It was hard for some of the students to sit still and really enter into the movie.  While they didn’t mention it when we broke at the end, I was sitting behind most of them and could see them instinctively check their cell phones every so often.  It wasn’t that they weren’t enjoying the film– rather, we’re programmed to commit half our brains to something or someone that may or may not need us now or later.  We can’t surrender our entire attention, we can’t become completely engrossed in something, because we have made ourselves available at -literally- every moment of the day to anyone who can get a hold of the ten numbers that correspond to our pants pocket.

Once I allowed myself to fall in, I fell in.  Once I stopped wondering, “How long are they going to show that monk kneeling there in prayer?” or “Why are they zooming in on that drop of rain on that windowsill?” I found myself sitting on the stone floor, the coldness numbing my rear, the damp French air heavy in solitude.  The monks didn’t seem to notice I was sitting there, the incredulous interloper who carefully watched their calculated, graceful movements.  I wanted to tug on one of their rough habits and ask how they resisted running outside into the Alpine wonderland and yelling for joy, just to hear their own echo.  The silence around me,  interrupted only by the sound of a monk’s footsteps or the sound of a cart coming down the hallway, seemed the remedy for a long week of work in the world.   

There was utter and complete peace.  I never thought I could watch a movie that seemed to give me that same weightless feeling that sitting in the chapel sometimes gives.  You know the feeling– all the stress disapears as if someone physically lifted it from you with a compassionate yank. 

After awhile, just the thought of a movie with people talking in it seemed loud and wrong.  That’s the only way to explain it, really.  It seemed odd to think people talked at me in movies, and I had to stop thinking of the possibility before it gave me a headache.

I think some people would complain that more things in the movie weren’t explained.  For example, there are a few scenes of a monk rolling a cart down a hallway and opening little windows and putting things in, taking things out, etc.  I think this is how the monks eat– normally they eat in solitude, and their meals are delivered by the cart-pushing monk through a little window-like door.  (On Sundays, we learn, they eat in common.)  This isn’t explained, but is absorbed.  I believe not having explanation helped.  I know that sounds weird.  But in this day and age, we always want to know the answers.  We’re always demanding information… without letting ourselves just enter into the situation.  

Let me ‘splain. Friends of mine attended Vespers at St. Paul Outside the Walls last spring.  Everything sung and prayed was  entirely in Latin and Italian.  One of the women wasn’t Catholic, and therefore even the notion and form of Vespers was rather foreign to her.  Afterwards, my Catholic friend apologized to her.  But Carol had a very interesting comment.  She loved the Vespers, and she commented that it was better that she didn’t understand the language.  Not distracted by every word, she was able to enter into prayer.  It became an experience to be lived, rather than a pedantic exercise.  That’s what it was like here.  Not burdened by a didactic explanation of every action, one is able to enter into the life.

All of this being said, my favorite part of the movie, ironically, was a conversation the monks were having (the priests get to speak to each other on Sundays) about washing their hands before eating.  I don’t want to ruin the whole scene, because it really is a jewel, and I debated whether or not to mention it here.

But it’s just too good to pass up.  If you’re going to watch the movie, stop reading here, and then come back and read this after watching. ; )

 They weren’t washing their hands for sanitary reasons, but in a symbolic gesture.  One monk questioned whether they should continue.  It wouldn’t be wrong to get rid of something useless, right?

Another monk replies, “Our entire life, the whole liturgy, and everything ceremonial are symbols. If you abolish the symbols, then you tear down the walls of your own house.”

Another monk… or perhaps the same one (it’s hard to tell them apart, haha) adds, “When we abolish the signs, we lose our orientation.  Instead, we should search for their meaning.  But one should unfold the core of the symbols.  The signs are not to be questioned, we are.”

And another (or again, the same… he’s very wise if it’s still him…) adds, “The error is not to be found in the handwashing, the error is in our mind.”

And then, as quickly as the profundity came in words, it slips back into deeds, and you find yourself in great silence once again.

As for that discourse… someone may have just found the beginnings of a dissertation topic.