A supremely blessed Christmas day

Words cannot convey my mixture of contentment and tiredness.

I pray that Christmas has brought you a similar bounty of blessings.

Here's one of the REALLY high points (captured in-progress):

"Merry Christmas"

It seems to me that we sometimes mindlessly repeat a thing out of habit until it completely loses its real meaning. I think of two young lovers, so enamored of the feelings they have for each other that they repeat "I love you," at every opportunity. Eventually the words can become a substitute for real, loving choices in their lives that might nurture a growing, deepening love, into which they could continue to grow for as long as they live. Long ago I was partner to a marriage such as this; eventually even I came to realize that the words weren't true anymore, so I stopped saying them. How blessed I am to have those days behind me, to have rediscovered the choices and actions that engender the lasting love in which my wife and I share.

I think that "Merry Christmas" has become that kind of phrase for some of us, even among those who insist on this greeting rather than a more "neutral" alternative because they insist on naming what they're really trying to celebrate. This Advent season, I've been blessed with consistent daily reflection on what Christmas really means. As a result, I find that I don't fully agree with Linus, who after quoting St. Luke's account, concludes, "And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

You see, I think Linus is only partly right. For recalling the historical, humble birth of Jesus two millennia ago, accompanied by the proclamations of angels and the worship of shepherds and Magi, is not so beneficial to us if this Savior's love does not transform our lives. Just as the love to which I once paid lip service became a shallow substitute for the real love my wife and I have since found together, so the commercial, traditional, and even religious and humanitarian trappings of Christmas can become superficial substitutes for truly celebrating Christ.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying we shouldn't give gifts, attend parties, trim the tree, attend church services, feed and shelter the hungry and homeless, or give to those less fortunate. Each of these, in context, can be a valid and worthwhile thing. But where is our focus amid all the resulting hubbub?

The belief that Son of God came to dwell among us 2000 years ago, to deliver all who would wish it into the Father's love for all eternity, does not bear its fullest effect in our life until we allow Him to bear us into that love, to fill us with His Spirit, to dwell in us as surely as he ever dwelt among us. It is He alone, alive in me, that does any good thing that springs from my life.

Lest you fear these ramblings may be a haughty put-down of the way you observe this season, may these final words persuade you otherwise. For even if these various outward observances form the only meaning of Christmas we may have ever known, still we should embrace them. For just as the empty words I spoke to my now-beloved spouse ultimately became filled beyond my imagining, so Christ will fill us as we respond to His presence in the ways in which we are able. We should observe this holy season as well as we know how.

The most blessed and merry Christmas to whomever enters here!

Small blessings

Sometimes, simply not getting as sick as it feel like I'm going to be is a real treat.

Late yesterday morning I started feeling queasy. I ate a packet of oatmeal, hoping that might settle my stomach. Instead, I felt myself feeling progressively worse throughout the early afternoon, so decided to carry my sick self home. I pretty much went straight to bed for a couple hours, until oldest daughter rang. Read a while, then put the lights on the tree, finally, after which I started having chills. Meanwhile my queasy stomach and grumbling intestines continued to cause me to feel quite nervous about where all this was headed. Back in bed by 9 for a broken night's sleep, but surprisingly felt well enough to come in to work today, if a little late.

I really thought this was going to be much worse.

Tired Monday

Well, I thought I had the weekend planned pretty well. Saturday we'd get out fairly early and head out to the tree farm to execute our Christmas tree - apparently the greener option, from what I've been reading - before the storm hit, as the weather was supposed to be even worse the next day. Sunday we had our youngest grandson's first birthday party scheduled "in the evening," but an otherwise clear day except for a trainer session on the bike.

Well, heading out into the weather late Saturday morning, we found the roads passable but treacherous, so decided to postpone the tree trip. I planned instead to take a couple hours off during the week to tree hunt. As it turned out, the roads got better on Saturday as the tree hunting weather got worse, snow giving way to rain. Good thing, too, as I ended up running a grandchild errand on Saturday afternoon, then going and getting my daughter from work later in the evening.

Sunday, the weather pattern didn't dump on us as forecasted, so after 10:30 Mass I started the spaghetti sauce for supper, ate lunch, we took advantage of the "mini-break" in the weather to get our tree, did another grandkid errand followed by the birthday party (4:00 isn't exactly "in the evening," is it?), had supper, went to evening prayer, and then closed the day with a cheesecake-baking and caramel-wrapping mini-party at the house (accompanied by my half of a bottle of red wine).

I should have taken time off today to sleep!

Giving thanks

I'm really looking forward to the upcoming weekend, hectic though it is shaping up to be. Tomorrow early we're driving to MD, hopefully arriving around noon. Dinner with my aunt, at whose house we spent every Thanksgiving when I was growing up, and my uncle (her brother; they're my late mom's only siblings). I'm wondering how many of my cousins will be there, too. It will be my first Thanksgiving dinner with them in about 30 years.

Back to OH on Saturday, in time to celebrate the feast of Christ, the King on Sunday. It is about our highest "ordinary" feast day, a celebration not quite on the level of Christmas and Easter, but still a really joyful end to the church year; the new one starts with the season of Advent.

Monday it'll be back in the car to head to Rochester, NY, for a three or four day consultation concerning some tools we're considering. We'll see how that goes.

So much to give thanks for, but chiefly I'm appreciating the blessings of God's love, particularly as poured out through family and dear friends.

I Love to Write Day

Well, I suppose I can't let the day go by without at least a few hastily composed words. While there are other commemorative and feast days which I might celebrate more enthusiastically, there are probably few such days whose very name is more true for me!

The word - a gift to open minds -
inflames our passions, shares the heart,
brings hurt or healing, war or peace,
expresses our most secret thought,
provides a means for discrete minds
alien ideas to comprehend,
rejects or welcomes foreigners,
creates enemies, nurtures friends,
isolates or unites neighbors,
hardens or tears down a wall,
casts judgment or embraces souls,
speaks prejudice or hope for all,
terrifies, soothes, rages, comforts,
works, entertains, excites, teaches,
reminds, distracts, enslaves or frees,
hates and loves, disdains and reaches.

It's but a vessel to convey
our very selves to one another.

How apt: the Father spoke the Word
to bring us home in love forever.

The pursuit of happiness

"One should be either sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers."
—Eugene O'Neill

A coworker's homepage "quote of the hit" generator served me up this gem (tongue lightly in cheek) today. There was a time when I voiced an opinion much like it. There is both truth and deception within it.

In its declarative document, our fledgling nation included "the pursuit of happiness" among the unalienable rights endowed to us by our Creator. While this raises the observation that many of us today don't believe in a creator, this post will not sojourn further along such a divisive, and likely useless, trajectory.

More helpful, for me, is a careful consideration of this contrast O'Neill draws between joyfulness and contentedness. During one particularly passionate period of my life, I too lamented the contentment for which I felt I'd settled theretofore, clinging to my newfound (and, in this case, verboten) excitement and delight. "I don't want to settle for just being content!" I bemoaned.

Let me be clear before developing my thoughts further: I do not now believe contentment should be our goal any more so than happiness, passion, excitement, or delight.

Still, the mistake that O'Neill and I, and much of our society, have shared in common has at its root the problem of forgetting the purpose of our existence. The answer to the age-old question, "Why are we here?" has become, for many of us, nothing more than to experience all of the happiness -- all of the excitement, passion, delight, and success -- that we possibly can.

Now in my forties, I'm (just barely) too young to have learned from the old Baltimore Catechism as a child, yet I've heard many of my elders in the faith repeat from deep-rooted memory: "God made me to know Him, to love Him and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him for ever in heaven." Matthew Kelly, writing so as to appeal to a more secular audience while honoring his Catholic faith, posits that each person has an essential purpose, and for each of us it is the same: to become the best-version-of-ourselves. Interestingly, the things that make us the best-version-of-ourselves in each area of our life are also those things that maximize our true happiness. Yet paradoxically, the pursuit of happiness as a goal in and of itself usually leaves us disillusioned and disappointed. It is only by striving to become the best-version-of-myself that I experience the most happiness amid all the other emotions that this life brings.

(One important point that Kelly is always careful to tie closely together with this concept: we mustn't get the pursuit of excellence in any one area of our life out of context with the rest. We each have four distinct and important aspects of our selves: the physical, the intellectual, the emotional, and the spiritual. Overemphasize or neglect any of the four, and our lives become out of balance, preventing us from becoming the overall best-version-of-ourselves and reducing our happiness.)

Back to Eugene O'Neill: I agree with him that we ought not make contentment our end. If we do, we will stagnate, no longer striving to become the best-version-of-ourselves or to know, love, and serve God in each situation. Such satisfaction leads to complacency, which keeps us from growing and loving as we ought. But if we make happiness -- unalienable right though we may have declared its pursuit -- joyfulness, or any other more intense emotion our goal in its place, we are likely to make decisions in its pursuit that make us less than the people we could be, and hurt those around us in the process. Ahh, but if we pursue the goal of becoming the best-version-of-ourselves, we will grow through the pursuit of excellence in our lives, and those feelings of joy, passion, or even "mere" contentment, will more frequently result.

As emotional beings, we will each at times feel glad, sad, angry, or afraid, and any number of combinations and degrees thereof. Often, the external circumstances that invoke the more undesirable of these emotions in our lives are beyond our control, so we cannot hope to eliminate these feelings completely. Nor should we; they serve as important indicators, stimuli, responses. However, it is also true that we unconsciously nurture these less desireable feelings by many of our decisions. We do this most frequently when we're out of balance, or when we're striving to fulfill the wrong purpose.

Happily blessed are the poor in spirit

I was discussing the beatitudes recently, and someone indicated that they weren't sure they fully understood what it meant to be poor in spirit. I can understand their confusion. Surely the Lord wasn't just talking about economic poverty, right? But maybe there needs to be room in the concept to include that category of poorness, too?

By no means is this "the" definitive answer, but for me, the idea of poverty of spirit is closely coupled with those of humility and dependence on God. I spent so much of my life trying to be self-sufficient, and I recognize now that this extended even into my attempts to be in relationship with God. In fact, I think I was among the many who view Christianity primarily as a means of becoming a good person, such that the scale of our life comes into a balance that, upon our death, merits our entry into our heavenly home. While there indeed should be evidence of transformation over the course of a Christian's walk with God, I've come to believe that this is a side effect of living the essence of Christianity, which I believe is an utter dependence on God.

I will never be able to approach God with an attitude of entitlement. At the end, I will not be sputtering "But . . . but . . . I did this and that and the other, and I never . . . ." I will not have any illusions of being worthy of the place which Jesus has prepared for me.

To me, being poor in spirit means knowing, truly knowing in the heart in a way that gets beyond the cliché that the words have become, that I cannot approach on my own the glory and righteousness of God. My only hope of salvation is that which God has provided for me through Jesus. Oh, I am not conveying this well.

Suppose an abusive father loses his family, is imprisoned for his crimes against them, and therein or thereafter comes to truly embrace the process of becoming a healthy person. He does the painful work of therapy, doing his part to repair his brokenness and that which he has caused. His family gradually comes to see and embrace the new person he has become.

Do you suppose that father ever reaches the point of believing that he is entitled to be restored to his family? Or rather, does he forever recognize his unworthiness of them, and with overflowing gratitude accept his restored place in their grace and forgiveness and love, bought at the price of their own pain and in which he has only of late participated positively?

I think this conveys my understanding of poorness of spirit. It is profoundly humble, and utterly recognizes, fully appreciates, and consistently celebrates the profound love it knows it could never deserve.

Advertising that has gotten under my skin, in one way or another:

Oh, it appears that the labels are always published in alphabetical order. I'd prefer them reversed for this post . . .

Have you noticed - and about the only way you wouldn't is if you don't watch television - the Visa Check Card commercials? Some complex, German-clockwork-like operation is humming along smoothly: hamburgers flying from grill to bun to tray to consumer (pardon me if the details aren't 100%), or happy customers and clerks juggle toys. In each scenario, consumers swiftly complete their transactions with a quick swipe at the card reader, until one thoughtless customer approaches and tries to write a check or - **GASP** - pay with CASH (IMAGINE the NERVE of some people!), to the utter inconvenience of those in a rush to complete their business and move on. Immediately the entire, formerly-efficient machine grinds to a screeching halt, and the offender either sheepishly completes his slow, outmoded transaction while everyone around him scowls, or knowingly smiles and breaks out her Visa Check Card, to everyone's approval.

I'm sorry, but I'm NEVER going to accept the premise that a credit/debit card is the only socially acceptable way to pay. Some would suggest that this is just another step toward the Revelation-predicted mark of the beast, without which individuals will not be able to participate in commerce. I'm not going there. Still, I utterly reject, and resent, the implication that using cash (which, in the U.S., still says "This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private," right? I'm pretty sure the Visa Check Card doesn't say that!) or writing a check inconveniences others to such a degree that I should feel socially obligated to pay for EVERYTHING with a piece of magnetism. It is one thing to suggest a product's benefits, and quite another to imply that we all have a social obligation to use it.

And that doesn't even begin to address these commercials' underlying message about the rush in which we seem to live our lives.

Every time one of these ads appears, I grow more angry at Visa over them. They offend me to the point that I'm really glad I don't have anything in my wallet that says Visa on it!

Another one, which didn't bother me quite as much, appeared as a sidebar ad on an e-mail website. Match.com told me today: "It's okay to look!" It's the old cliché, "Just because you're on a diet doesn't mean you can't look at the menu." But isn't there a difference between noticing someone who walks by on the street and going to a website specifically to look? Isn't the latter a choice that moves me a step closer to at least considering a dalliance? Don't get me wrong: I look. I've even looked at such sites. But now that they assure me, "Oh, don't worry, it's okay . . . " I find that I must ask, "Is it, really?"

And further, I find that I know the answer.

I suspect that this actually ties into the recent conscience thread. It isn't always a matter of doing what is obviously or objectively sinful or hurtful. But rather than considering whether I can justify an action as harmless, isn't it better to ask what choice best helps me to be the husband - and in general, the person, in my current life context - I'm called to be?

Thoughts on conscience, v

Tom's observation regarding free will got me thinking a bit further:

If obedience to an all-loving, omniscient, omnipotent God is what is best for us, why on earth would we be given free will?? Perhaps it is because we learn so much about God's will through others, yet others are often wrong in one way or another, so we need an informed will and conscience to provide guidance. Still, the best reason I can think of for free will is that love is impossible without it, because love is a choice. With that capacity unavoidably comes the possibility of choosing wrongly, of choosing not-love. But I imagine God has a better and more complete reason!

I think the general point I'm trying to get to about conscience is this: instead of allowing it to call us to our best, we too often reduce it to helping us feel okay about whatever it is we've done or think we want to do. Not always, of course. Other times we see an ill, and the only answer we can see to it is what appears to be a lesser ill. But I'm primarily focusing on the former and, in my experience, predominant case. And putting this back into my Catholic (or other Christian, for that matter) perspective, when this becomes our approach to conscience, we'll almost always be in conflict with the Church, because the Church's purpose is to call us to be our best, in relationship with Christ. But if we mentally reduce the Church to an archaic, out-of-touch, man-made institution (none of which I believe it to be), then it is easier for us to reject her guidance without due consideration or attempts to understand the broader issues behind it.

But that doesn't free us to cast self-righteous judgment on those who disagree with us, which too often is just our way of salving our conscience concerning our own shortcomings through favorable comparison. I think it is easier to find the right balance if we've truly both accepted our own shortcomings (I have to be careful not to embrace this term over the more "outdated" sounding concept of "sinfulness") and embraced God's grace. Still, we have to be careful. Yes, Jesus forgave the adulterer, but without telling her that her adultery is okay! And Jesus didn't assume scripture was out of touch with his times, even though much of it had been written centuries before. When he seemed to contradict scripture, it was usually to set a higher standard, such as for the indissolubility of marriage, the adulterous nature of lustful thoughts, or to emphasize mercy over legalism. (Notice: there's a huge difference between mercy and self-righteousness. There's a vast gulf between accepting forgiveness and insisting we don't need it because what we've done isn't wrong!)

So in what do we place our faith? God has given us free will and the ability to reason; are we to value these gifts above the One who gave them? Is it that tough to know God's will, or is it only hard for us to submit to it?

Because in this day and age, it seems as if we've decided that, now that we're so advanced, now that we've so finely honed our ability to reason, we need no longer pay attention to God's opinion, as revealed to us through the scripture and the church throughout salvation history.

BTW, I'm not writing these things from some lofty perch. These are my struggles, too.

4 down, 46 to go

Yesterday I took another baby step toward my long-term goal of completing a cycling century in every state. It was a gorgeous day for the Apple Cider Century, out of Three Oaks, MI. I got started a little later than I'd have liked, due to getting into the area really late on Saturday night (well, 1:30 Sunday am). But the ride was very well-supported, with four good rest areas, each well stocked with bananas, apples, trail mix, PB&J sandwiches, soup, cookies and, of course, apple cider in addition to the standard water and Gatorade. The hot cider was especially nice before things warmed up - though with a near-record high yesterday I only partook of that at the first stop - and lunch by Lake Michigan was very cool! And they had these cute little color-coded apples with directional stems consistently painted on the pavement to indicate the 5 different mileage routes. I managed to meet a few folks, all from Chicago as it turned out, and basically had a great time!

Anyway, I'm counting this as my Michigan century even though, checking the map today, it turns out that about half of the century route was actually in Indiana. (Grrr . . . !)

But man, am I tired and sore today! I wasn't nearly as ready for this one as I've been for my previous centuries!

more on conscience still to come

Thoughts on conscience, iv

Don't get me wrong: our rationality, intelligence, and experiences are definitely gifts from God. But throughout salvation history, God's children have tended to put their faith in the gift rather than the Giver, and it has always caused trouble:

• In the beginning, Adam and Eve put their trust in the fruit of the tree rather than in the loving creator who instructed them to avoid it. I believe it is no accident or coincidence that the original sin involved the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Salvation history is replete with our self-deterministic missteps. Even if the story of The Fall were a mere fable, it would be the most insightful one ever told
  
• The children of Israel came to worship the bronze serpent which God instructed Moses to make to heal them from the deadly bite of the fiery serpents
• Even thousands of years ago we overvalued our own intelligence; why else would God warn through Isaiah that "as high as the heavens are above the earth, so are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts"
• Today, we have rampant materialism, alcoholism, and hedonism, in addition to rationalism and experientialism, not to mention the predominance of relativism - I'm sure we could come up with many more such "isms"
• Spiritually, some invest too much effort into seeking signs and wonders, or some form of spiritual high
  

Each of these represents an overzealous embracing of some category of God's good gifts. For each example above, its opposite would be the utter rejection of the gift (these lists may not correspond point-for-point . . . ):

• Refusing to consider issues of right and wrong, just going along by inertia
  
• Rejection of sound medical care or other healing
• Dismissing intelligence, rationality, and experience, blindly following what I’m told to do by some “authority,” and forcibly imposing my views of morality on everyone else
• Disdaining all comfort and pleasure
• Insisting there must be a rational physical explanation for everything, and refusing to believe God is at work in any tangible way
  

With every gift God has created, a healthy perspective seems to be somewhere in the middle, with room to err on either side. So it is with conscience. At one extreme lies Pharisaic legalism, emphasizing conformance to every jot and tittle of the law (church teaching, etc.) even at the expense of love, compassion, and mercy. At the other is our ability to rationalize whatever it is that we really want to do. In each direction lie many gradations.

And yet the Church teaches us that our conscience is to be our primary moral guide. She doesn't really want to encourage us to act independently, but only insofar as we agree with Her, does she?

I believe we’re getting there . . .

Thoughts on conscience, iii

I think there is yet another fundamental area to consider in this discussion. It lies in our beliefs about salvation and heaven, our resulting attitude toward them and, really, our basic relationship with God. On the surface, some of these might seem unrelated or tangential, but I believe these primary issues underlie every moral decision we make. And like every other gift of God, they can be misapplied in two opposite extremes.

As a child, I somehow absorbed the popular premise that heaven is a reward for those who live a sufficiently good life. When we die, we’ll approach those pearly gates, and Saint Peter will be standing there, with his keys and The Book of Life in front of him. If I've lived rightly, my name will be written there. If not, well, not even God will help me anymore. It will just be too late. So, doggone it, I'd better make sure that the scales of my life (don't ask me how this Supreme Court image got mixed up in there!) balance out in the right direction. And if we screw up along the way, well, "God's gonna getcha for that!" The resulting inquiry of my conscience becomes, as the rich young man asked, "What must I do to be saved," or conversely, "What is okay for me to do without imperiling my soul?" As long as this remains our approach to morality, we're going to continue to think of (and use) our conscience in ineffective ways, as a means of self-justification. At the same time, we may make an effort to ensure we accumulate enough good works to tip the scales in our favor.

At the opposite extreme is the popular Protestant perspective that salvation is something that happens to us in the instant in which we accept our need for Jesus’ sacrifice and put our faith in him. The potential pitfall is that I misinterpret the freedom from sin that Christ has won for me as license to do as I wish. Someone who accepts Christ sincerely will likely respond in ways that avoid the potential traps of this sort of thinking, but reading St. Paul's letters indicates that this has been a problem since the first century.

The traditionally Catholic teaching on salvation is very different from both of these. Salvation is God's gift to us, and while we don't believe it is a one-time event that occurs at our baptism or in some other conversion experience, it is nonetheless a matter of grace, which we can never, under any circumstances, earn or deserve. Rather, God works in our lives through His gifts of faith and works, to continually transform us and deliver us into His eternal kingdom. In His grace, He allows us to participate in the process of accepting these gifts and seeing them at work in our lives, as well as to be vessels through which He communicates and delivers His gift of salvation to the world.

With this attitude, conscience stops primarily having the role of asking, “What is okay?” or even (too often), “How much can I get away with?” and instead asks things like, “How can I respond to the boundless love which God has lavished upon me, despite my unworthiness?” and, “How can I best participate in the process of becoming - and helping those around me become - the person that God envisions me/them to be?”

For the record, I’m not fully there yet, but then, I don’t imagine anyone is.

This is coming together for me, I think. More . . .

Thoughts on conscience, ii

I should probably point out that this series is primarily geared for fellow practicing Catholics. I should probably also mention that this isn’t an indictment against anyone for any decisions they may have made. Rather, it’s an effort to help myself (and, incidently, anyone who reads this) grow in understanding, wisdom, spiritual maturity, and - as quaint as we’ve come to consider the concept - true holiness.

There’s likely to be some delay between these posts as I struggle through this topic. I’m not sure exactly how it’s going to develop or how long it will be. If this were an academic exercise, I’d do a formal outline and have a better idea by now how I was getting to the end. As it is, the only end I’m really concerned about is the eternal one, and so I’m trying to enjoy the exercise of just rambling a little. I’m also trying to be careful of my tendency to be a smug know-it-all. If I stumble in that regard, please let me know.

I regularly encounter people who say perfectly reasonable sounding things like "God is no respecter of man's rules," and as a basic tenet, I largely agree with them.

The problem occurs when we use this truth to arbitrarily dismiss other truth. For instance, we’ll propose, "The Church says to avoid artificial contraception, but that's ridiculous in this day and age of overpopulation. My spouse and I will decide for ourselves how many children we should have. The Church needs to wake up and move into the 21st Century!" That certainly seems logical and reasonable, but it’s full of its own suppositions, including:
a) we usually know what’s best,
b) we usually do what’s best, rather than just what we want, and
c) the Church is run by a rigid and closed-minded bunch of out-of-touch old men

Again, I’m not suggesting we turn off our own brains. Limiting the conversation (for now) to this specific topic, there are definitely specific circumstances that might call for departure from the Church’s teaching on artificial contraception. (Obviously, if we're going to act in disregard of the more basic issue of honoring our sexuality, such as by indulging it extra- or premaritally, we’d be stupid to then avoid artificial contraception, but by no means is that all. There may be specific medical indications that call for contraception, either in the short term or the long term. BTW, I seem to have chosen as an example one of my biggest mistakes.)

In general, don't we tend to rebel against perceived restrictions like a petulant teenager, and harden our hearts against that which opposes our will? We won’t try to really understand and appreciate any opposing viewpoint when we’ve decided that it is a roadblock to the path we’ve chosen, let alone one with authority. We might go so far as to ask our priest about a topic like this, but only if we view him as like-minded, so as to validate our position. But actually reading the truly enlightening documents that pertain to it – in this instance, the encyclical Humanae Vitae, or the insightful Theology of the Body series - which might serve to broaden our understanding of the issues beyond our own thoughts, circumstances, experiences, and wishes? Not likely. So we never learn how the former has proven shockingly prophetic regarding the long-term effects of the contraceptive mindset, or see the broader approach to our human dignity (in God's image) laid out in the latter. No, we’ll simply conclude that the Church has institutionalized a puritanical set of burdens which it rigidly imposes on us, when Christ came to free us.

Too often, we conclude that living according to our conscience simply means doing what we think is best. And tragically (for us and those around us), the net result is that we often end up rationalizing what we think we want in the first place.

Now, I’m not condemning couples who use artificial contraception, or live in any other way contrary to the Church’s teaching. But I’ve found that every time I’ve rejected the guidance that God has provided through the Church (note how this assumption differs from those above!), I’ve come to regret it. Those actions were sometimes driven by my own arrogance. Others arose from a failure to fully know myself and our world, which I was interpreting, of course, strictly in light of my own understanding and experiences. Still others were a matter of stubborn willfullness. And some have been a combination of all these.

But at its root, the basic problem is always my tendency to trust in myself instead of in God. “Only I can know what is best for me,” is the post-modern concept of conscience.

In short, we've embraced a sense of conscience which rejects the teaching authority of the Church, and which reduces Her to an out-of-touch, Jiminy Cricket pseudo-parent. This attitude has been been around nearly from the beginning, and has certainly flourished over the last 60 years. But it represents a distortion of the concept of conscience as it has developed throughout salvation history, and has become rooted in our embracing of the twin gods of rationalism (the world must be as I rationally understand it) and experientialism (the world must be as I have experienced it; both of these definitions are my own).

Definitely more to come . . .

Thoughts on conscience, i

I lost sleep over this last night, after having a near argument on the topic with someone I respect deeply. For me, this discussion reflects both our culture's attitude (toward so many things, really) and my experiences of growing up Catholic immediately post-Vatican II.

I have reflected often with many Catholic and Christian friends about our society's attitudes toward our intelligence. In short, I believe we have made it one of our chief false gods. Rationalism and experientialism have become our chief heresies, and they are strong partners. We (each of us) insist that things must be as I (or as we collectively, mainly including people smarter than me) are able to understand and grasp them and have experienced them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that we should check our brain at the door, or that we embrace superstition. But the the Gospel is rooted in humility, which our society disdains. We know what is best, damn it, and nobody is going to tell us any different. Further, because of the technological wonders of our age, we've come to think of ourselves as more intelligent than our forebears of previous centuries (let alone millenia). Now, it is true that we've come to know many things that they didn't, but it is important to understand that this is not because we are fundamentally smarter than they were. Rather, we have been raised under the influence of accumulated knowledge which wasn't available to them. This affects us both for good and for ill.

Having been born and baptized Catholic in 1960, I was raised in a Church struggling to cast off the shackles of blind obedience which had marked it for previous millenia. This characteristic both caused the Protestant Reformation and was hardened by the Church's response to it. When Pope John XXIII threw open the doors and proclaimed that we needed a new Pentecost, that it was important to allow the wind of the Holy Spirit to renew the Church, he recognized that we had become stifled, and were stifling the Spirit. This prayerful man recognized that we needed to allow God to move in us in new ways, and that powerful growth would result if we did. For one thing, the Church came to remember that when the Spirit spoke at Pentecost, it was in the language of the people.

I don't believe, though, that it was ever his intention to cast off the accumulated wisdom which the Spirit has taught the Church throughout salvation history. Still, many people threw out the baby with the bath water. Rejecting what they perceived as the superstition of their parents' generation, and with an attitude that it was "about damn time" the Church came into the 20th century, they embraced much of the prevailing cultural perspective, especially under the influence of the twins of rationalism and experientialism. We began to put the accumulated knowledge on par with spiritual truth, often even embracing that which was merely theoretical or suggested as if it were fact.

As a result, when I was a child, even within the Church I was taught cultural attitudes concerning a lot of things, and the fundamental one underlying all the others was with regard to my conscience. It was up to me to decide what was okay, and I had a responsibility not to let anyone tell me otherwise.

This represents a subtle but vast distortion of a mature Catholic Christian's understanding of conscience's formation and role. Because of it, I see and hear many Catholics of my generation, including too many priests, giving (to each other and other Catholics) and heeding poorly-rooted (secular!) guidance and advice in the guise of spiritual wisdom.

more to come . . .

Contemplating this here popsicle . . .

Here I am, at my second birthday party, standing in my back yard. Grandpa's been snapping pictures long enough that I'm not continually clamoring for his attention anymore. Mommy gave me this great popsicle, of which I've been making short work. It could be that I'm trying to decide if this is the best thing in the entire world, or maybe I just can't quite figure out what my cousins or my Pappy are up to over there. But I'm having a great day, and Grandpa (well, I'll be calling him Pappaw for a while longer, but I already know that starts with a "P") just loves the way the popsicle juice on my chin matches my top, not to mention this faraway look in my eyes!

A special week

Sometimes it's nice to schedule a "vacation" that's just all about our relationship.

To our surprise, our youngest daughter, for whom my wife babysits daily, informed us two weeks ago that her mother-in-law wanted to watch the kids last Tuesday through Friday. On such short notice, we didn't feel like planning an out-of-town trip, but we definitely wanted to take advantage of the unplanned opportunity to spend some time together. So we made a list of several things in the area we wanted to do. Last Tuesday we went swimming at a local family water park; Wednesday we visited a cousin and his wife a few hours away, whose company we always enjoy; Thursday we spent a few hours at a bicycle museum; Friday we went canoeing. We even managed to carry the things into the weekend, seeing a really neat movie (Stardust, which we enjoyed immensely).

It was just the recharge we needed.

"Tough" readings

We had a substitute priest at mass yesterday, who has subbed for us many times before, and whose homilies I've enjoyed very much. Yesterday, however, may have set my personal record for most cringes during one homily. Why is it so often Marianists who have this effect on me?

A brief synopsis of the Gospel reading: someone asks Jesus if only a few will be saved. Jesus replies that we should strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many will try to enter but will be unable. He goes on to say that these will knock at the door and hear the reply "I don't know where you're from." They will protest that they ate and drank with him, that he taught in their streets, but to no avail. They'll ultimately look on in anguish at the vast number who come from north and south, from east and west, feasting at the banquet.

Now, our visiting priest described this as a "tough" reading to understand, then interpreted it in the typical pre-Vatican-II Catholic manner, with the typically Marian twist. His point was that, while we may find we haven't been "strong enough," we have an advocate in Jesus' mother who will speak on our behalf at that moment, as we regularly implore " . . . pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death."

Now, once upon a time, I had a problem with the role of Mary as an intercessor. That is no longer the case. However, his approach to this reading still doesn't work for me, as I believe it underappreciates Mary's humility and Jesus' Godhead.

So here's my take on this reading. It isn't that "only a few will be saved," as the inquirer asked at the start of the Gospel passage. Rather, those who attempt to enter by their own merits, or who approach with an attitude of privilege, will find themselves unable to. Many of Jesus' own people had taken on a self-righteous sense of entitlement concerning their place in God's favor. Instead, the banquet hall will be filled with those saved, but they will indeed be saved, not worthy or entitled. It seems to me that those who are convinced that they belong can't ever work their way in. Only those who know how unworthy we are of God's love and of Jesus' sacrifice will have the proper attitude to enter the gate. Jesus is the narrow gate ("I myself am the gate for the sheep," Jesus says in St. John's gospel), and we enter through him, not through our own merits.

It seems to me that the earthly Christian church (and this is an issue beyond denomination) has too many people who act as if the purpose of our faith is to get us to the point at which we no longer need a savior. I believe it is impossible to achieve this. Our eternal destination isn't a matter of being good enough or strong enough or "faithful" enough (in the way we use the term to mean we've stayed the course), but humble enough. Yes, we are called to remain faithful, but not so that we can puff out our chests over our faithfulness, but humbly full of faith.

Now, lest I stumble into "sola fides," let me clarify that I don't believe such faith in Jesus is real if it is unaccompanied by a response. I believe we are to run the race, fight the good fight of faith, and (as St. Paul says) "work out our salvation with fear and trembling." But both the faith and our response to it - our running, fighting, and working out - are God's gift to us, so it is only by God's grace we enter the banquet, not by our belonging there in any other way.

Sheff

You know, I try not to pay too much attention to celebrity, but now and then someone says something that just really strikes me.

Gary Sheffield was quoted as saying, "If I lose friends, so what? I don't need friends. I've got plenty of friends," Sheffield said.

Wow.

My friends are more precious to me than that. I sure hope he was quoted completely out of context.

Sanctimony

Barry Bonds. Michael Vick. Tank Johnson. Adam Jones. Tim Donaghy. Michael Rasmussen. Alexander Vinokourov. Ryan Tucker. Marion Jones. Tim Montgomery. Neifi Perez. Ivan Basso. Floyd Landis. Mark McGuire.

Okay. I'll stop now. But let's get the point. And it isn't just about sports figures, either.

We ought not tolerate cheating.

We also ought not get all uppity in the process. Let's not think ourselves better than others. If we do, we've missed the point.

And no, I don't think myself better than those who think themselves better than others. What a trap that would be!

We all have our weaknesses. We should help each other out of them or, if our help isn't desired, at least not enable the dynamic that nurtures them. But just because I don't have another person's weakness, or because my weakness hasn't made the headlines, that doesn't give me room to judge.

Or maybe I just feel that way because my own weakness was so undeniably ugly.

From what comes hope?

Compared to a lot of tragedies in this world, this one (registration req'd, and I don't know how long the Post keeps its articles available) may be small. Perhaps it doesn't compare to terrorism, war, starvation, or genocide. Still, it touches me deeply.

Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake were brilliant people, deeply united with one another, yet they became hopeless.

It seems that none of these things that the world values - intelligence, esteem, beauty, brilliance, riches, success - can provide true hope. Or, in the words of Arlene Landis, "All this proves to me is that worldly fame is worthless."

I have been this full of despair. On the way to work one day, over a decade ago (at close to Jeremy's age, in fact), I chose the means and site of my death that afternoon.

Providence and grace delivered me over to a better answer than to follow in my father's footsteps, and saved my family the further hurt to which I would have selfishly subjected them. But it wasn't a matter of choosing to live in misery myself rather than making them miserable.

There is a Way through such desperation. Beyond the abject darkness there is bright, joyful day, where life is indeed far better.

Pimples

As a teenager I didn’t have to deal with very much acne. Still, every pimple left me longing for the day that I’d be old enough that I wouldn’t get them anymore.

I’m 47 now. Isn’t that old enough?

Why did the adults in my adolescent life lie to me? Why did they say that the zits would all be over soon enough, and I’d long for the days when my problems were that simple? (Well, I suppose they were half right!) Why didn’t they tell me, back then, that there was still a good chance I’d always be dealing with blemishes on my back, or on my rear end? Those, at least, are usually hidden by my clothes. How about the ones out in the open, alongside my nose, visible on my chin through my beard, or on my balding pate?

Oh, wait. Maybe they didn’t tell me because they didn’t have them. Does everyone, or is it just me? Are we each allotted a fixed number of pimples for our lifetime, and I didn’t get nearly enough as a kid, so I have to put up with them as long as I draw breath?

Nowadays (see, I’m old enough to say "nowadays" now, and it sounds just as hokey as when my grandparents used to say it; shouldn’t I be old enough that I don’t get pimples anymore??), the medical advice is to leave them alone, don’t pop them, because it increases the risk of them becoming infected.

Right.

As if I could leave that swollen, slightly painful, white-headed pustule alone if my life depended on it! That would be impossible even without still hearing my dear, late mother’s voice ringing in my memory’s ear, telling me I "really ought to go pop that thing!" I don’t think she ever used the adjective "disgusting," but I always heard her imply it nonetheless, and still do now.

See, it isn’t enough I still get zits. I have to obsess – not to be confused with abscess – over them, too. Gee, thanks Mom!

Abundant blessings!

I think I've learned to just appreciate times such as these when they come, rather than a) making them some sort of unachievable, obsessive end in themselves, or b) destroying them through an unconscious belief that I don't deserve them. A lot of folks end up applying either or both of these ineffective approaches to happiness in their lives; I know I've applied both in the past. It's nice to be able to simply appreciate such blessings as:

- to be able to look at the gradually decreasing yard debris where I successfully felled a mostly dead maple tree in my front yard on Saturday, without dropping it on our house or the street or myself, or killing or maiming myself with the biggest chain saw (by far!) that I've ever used; the whole time I was hearing the lessons my stepfather shared three decades ago, mainly "Keep the chain out of the dirt!"

- to be able to enjoy a truly splendid Father's Day, including nice phone calls from each of our daughters

- to enjoy both the regular and the special cycling outings with our riding group

- to spend pleasant evenings with a wonderful group of friends

- to participate in and contribute to our parish through Mass, music ministry, small faith-sharing groups, festival, etc.

- to continue to be blessed within the prayer group we helped get started 20 years ago, and to see the Holy Spirit still moving in our lives in powerful ways, always helping us to grow and be transformed

- to have such close friends that I can discuss even the most difficult things life offers without fear of losing their friendship, and to know how to couch those discussions even when a topic holds the potential to hurt them deeply but still must be addressed

- to see our prayers begin to be answered for our daughter and her estranged husband, when many might have given up hope for them at the point of the divorce, and yet to recognize that the need for continued prayer for them is still urgent, for they have all their original issues to overcome plus the pain of their more recent decisions

- to be able to speak words of comfort to a small, highly upset 22-month-old granddaughter as she received a half-dozen stitches in the horizontal split she opened between her upper lip and nose because she wasn't quite big enough to follow her four-year-old cousin's leap from the coffee table to the sofa; to know how much worse it could have been had the table's glass top broken under them instead; to show loving yet firm correction rather than angry recrimination to the older grandchild

- to be in better shape at 47 than I've ever been before

- to know that no blessing, and no challenge, serves any other purpose than to help us collectively to know God's love more deeply, and to more deeply love God in return.

Longing for simplicity

I used to believe that being complex or enigmatic was admirable. I was drawn to those who seemed to possess what I thought of as a captivating depth, layers of intrigue to discover. Conversely, I disdained simplicity or transparency as uninteresting, or even boring. In retrospect, I'd have to say that I thought of simple people as not being worth much of my attention.

How egotistical I was.

I still struggle against those prejudices, and find that I've long since taken on these traits that I so vainly valued, in ways of which I am certain I will never be free. I now treasure in others and long to find within myself those characteristics which I formerly scorned.

Perceptual weirdness

The oddest thing is going on in my brain.

Perhaps it’s from too much computer time, which would be strange, because I spend nearly all day on the computer nearly every work day. Maybe it’s a cumulative effect. At any rate, my brain feels as if my desk and computer screen are orthogonal to how they should be.

It’s hard to explain, and I’m sure weird to read, but here’s as close as I think I can get to describing what it feels like: it’s as if I’ve been holding my head over at a 90° angle for so long that my brain has gotten used to it and is automatically interpreting everything I see as being upright. Now, I know that such a phenomenon occurs after a couple of days when experimental subjects are provided with inverting glasses to look through for all their waking hours. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything like that happening with a 90° visual translation - if such a thing is even possible or practical.

Anyway, it’s a rather unusual feeling. Perhaps it’s just a weird effect of the astigmatism which a) I spend much of the day not correcting because I don’t typically wear my glasses when I’m doing computer work and b) I haven’t had checked in entirely too long. Or maybe I’m just a little lightheaded from not being caught up yet from fasting for my physical this morning (but my doc was really impressed with my resting heart rate. Cool!)

Or since I’m feeling weird, maybe it’s just the same thing that I tell my wife is going on with her when she says she’s feeling dizzy:

improved perception

Contented **sigh**

Wow. Every last little detail around the house didn't get taken care of, but that was ok. Everybody we expected didn't come (including one who absolutely should have come, though we really didn't expect her to), but that was ok. A couple folks were bent out of shape by the kids having such an unabashedly good time, but that was ok. We spent too much money, but that was ok.

We threw a wedding (well, technically a convalidation ceremony) on Saturday for our youngest and her husband. Before that, since we would have a bunch of extra family staying at the house, there were numerous projects that we wanted to take care of, including repairing and painting ceilings, painting the guest room, stripping off old wallpaper remnants, reorganizing the kitchen, general cleaning up, and that was before the mrs. pulled up the carpet and underlying linoleum in the entry, adding a porch and entry tiling project to my already full agenda of the past several weeks. We didn't finish all the details (well, mainly two trim pieces in the entry), but got a ton of things done. Then there was all the usual stuff associated with a wedding, which we probably could have gotten away with not doing all-out, but it we really wanted to convey how important we thought it was.

Everyone seemed to have a good time. There were several unique and wonderful elements that set the ceremony and the reception apart from the ordinary. Oldest daughter has probably burned her bridges with youngest, and God only knows why she didn't attend, but at least she sent her kids, and we had a fine time with them.

Now to avoid a post-event letdown. Oh, and get back on my bike!

TOSRV 2007

When I took up cycling a little over 4 years ago, I had no idea I would enjoy it to this degree, let alone that I would become as insane as the guys who inspired me to start. Nonetheless, last weekend I completed my fourth Tour of the Scioto River Valley, a 2-day, 200-mile ride between Columbus and Portsmouth, Ohio.

This year we had 14 riders start, on 3 tandems and 8 singles. One of the tandems was a pair of college freshmen who had ridden it with us before. This year they had about 16 miles of training between them, so completing half of the ride was a pretty impressive accomplishment for them. One of the singles was a coworker and friend who managed to complete his first century on Saturday, then ran into a bit of tire trouble early on Sunday which gave him adequate reason to bail out, especially given his concern that he would otherwise be holding up the group. Since we had a support driver meeting us in Portsmouth on Saturday and then at the first two rest stops on Sunday, the three of them had means of getting home, each with a sense of having accomplished much, if not all they might have set out to do.

Weather on this ride is generally hit or miss. This year it was a home run. Gorgeous both days, and if it was a little chilly to start on Sunday, we were all prepared for it. Tailwind all the way down on Saturday, though that was a challenging headwind - stronger than forecast - on the way back on Sunday. Effective group riding on the way back on Sunday helped, and though I was perhaps a bit of weak link for a bit, I recovered well for the final push coming in.
Overall, my average speed for the two days was higher than for any past century, and higher than all but one of my training rides this year.

Now if we can just get through this busy month with a few more riding opportunities so as not to lose the progress I've made.

The forgiveness challenge

For years now it has been my belief, if never fully verbalized, that we don't truly understand forgiveness and grace until two things happen in our lives:

• We are hurt by someone we love deeply, even seemingly unforgivably, and truly forgive them for it
• We hurt someone deeply, even seemingly unforgivably, and receive forgiveness which we know we don't deserve
  

For me, the second was the real eye-opener. Being forgiven by others when it was otherwise impossible to forgive myself taught me what a gift true forgiveness really is. Most of us go through our lives mistaking true forgiveness for cost-benefit analysis. "You've hurt me," or "I've hurt you," and then we mentally go on, "but the overall balance of our relationship remains fairly even," or "the benefit of reconciling is greater than the cost of severing our relationship." Maybe that's largely true in our relationships with others, but it can never be so in our relationship with God. I don't think most of us understand true forgiveness until our need of forgiveness from others has been extensive.

The giving and receiving of forgiveness can get complicated by a few things. In the latter case, there is a difference between someone offering us forgiveness and us receiving it. Many of us never truly receive the love, forgiveness and reconciliation offered us. We often choose isolation over any real acknowledgement of our hurtful actions, which is a prerequisite to our acceptance of forgiveness. This probably could bear some expansion, but this will have to suffice for now.

On the other hand, forgiving someone else doesn't necessarily mean we should put ourselves in harm's way again, especially if they've taken no concrete steps toward fixing whatever it was in themselves that led them to hurt us.

Also, in my experience, at least, forgiveness is a process, not usually an instantaneous event. When I've been deeply hurt by someone, forgiving them doesn't mean I don't feel hurt or angry, at least right away. It does, however, mean that I never stop wanting the best for them. Not in some superficial way, rather I continue to desire for them a deep, abundant life in God. And over time, those feelings of betrayal and anger should diminish if I refuse to feed them by obsessively hanging onto them.

Neither does forgiving another mean they won't have to face the consequences of their actions. In extreme cases, there may be legal actions that really need to be taken; if so, I shouldn't seek to maximize them for the sake of retribution.

Another tough complication can arise when we don't learn about the hurt we've received until it is impossible to express forgiveness. In this case, the only thing we may be able to do is the underlying, heretofore unspoken requirement for receiving and giving forgiveness in other circumstances: we can pray for healing for the other.

I find myself in this boat for the present. I'm angry and hurt. It is literally impossible to reach out in any tangible way to the friend who utterly betrayed me by deeply hurting someone I love. Yet I have been forgiven much, and my desire is for this other to be forgiven, too. So I offer my prayer, asking God to do what I cannot: heal the one who has been wounded, heal me from my pain, heal the one who has hurt us so.

Da Vinci

A coworker has a list of quotations - about 3000 or so - that are cycled through each time you hit his homepage. In tribute to Poe, we refer to it as the "quote of the hit," or QOTH. Today, I saw this one, which led me to reflect for a moment, which is of course the reason he puts quotations on his page in the first place:

"People react to fear, not love—They don't teach that in Sunday School, but it's true."
—Leonardo da Vinci

Da Vinci was a genius, but he was only almost right on this. I will credit him with meaning something like this, though: "People's reactions to fear are more basic than their responses to love. As long as someone is afraid, it will inhibit their ability to receive and return love."

I believe that the chief reason that so many marriages fail to achieve their potential (well, relationships in general, but a marriage is supposed to reach the ideal) is that we never get beyond our behavioral issues to the underlying, unrecognized, and therefore unresolved, fears that produce these behaviors. These fears have deep roots which (often) long antedate the current relationship, and it takes a long time in a truly safe environment for a wounded person to feel secure enough to face them.

A relationship that becomes marked by insecurity just doesn't feel safe enough to provide that opportunity. Unfortunately, most marriages are on rocky ground before we realize we need outside resources to help us root out our longstanding issues. Ironically, it can be the presence of a secure relationship that initially provides a safe environment in which the wounded person begins acting out this latent fear, thereby eroding that security before they can get at their underlying issues.

Many people live in constant fear without recognizing it. For the longest time - in healthy retrospect, I realize it was for as far back as I can remember - I was one of them. I thank God that my wife was willing to love me through it all.

Good Friday thoughts

It has become a custom for me to spend at least an hour in prayer in the wee hours of Good Friday morning. The concept is that we are keeping watch with the Lord in Gethsemani, though we're not so presumptuous as to think ourselves any more successful at that than the apostles were. The Garden may have represented a time of crisis for them, but we usually find our personal crisis points somewhere other than our unitive and commemorative participation in the events of Holy Thursday night.

I marvel at the insights and blessings that arise out of this prayer time. Sometimes, I'm touched anew by things I know I've reflected on before: how marvelously Ps 95 (the invitatory psalm which may be used to start prayer virtually every day) applies to the context of Christ's passion ("harden not your hearts," indeed!); the sublime insight of St. John Chrysostom, who points out that the water and blood which flowed from Christ's side are the Baptism and Eucharist by which we become transformed in him; a fresh identification with Jesus' utter crushing (part of the meaning of Gethsemani, where the olives were crushed into oil) -- the One who deserved to be adored by all creation was willing to instead be crushed in our place.

Usually, newer insights accompany these. The last couple of days in the car during my (very short) commute, I've been listening to a talk by Fr. Robert Spitzer, president of Gonzaga University. I was there as he delivered this talk a couple years ago, in the course of which he spent some time discussing the practical application of Jesus' prayer, "Thy will be done." Of course, Jesus taught this in what we know as The Lord's Prayer, but then showed us its ultimate application in the Garden.

To what degree am I willing to truly submit: Father, Thy will be done? Will I trust that this really will be for the best? Isn't it usually only insofar as we can see the potential good, and are not too put out? If it means that we're likely to encounter consequences that intimidate us, or which might cause us to suffer loss or embarrassment or shame, we're not so good at living this out. When we know the right thing but fear implications which cow us into (what we rationalize as) pragmatism, it is much more challenging to trust God's will and providence rather than our own vision.

Today, I am given a gift I can never deserve, as my Savior gives his life in my place. I pray my response to my deliverance will be an ever deeper trusting in God, a willingness to truly and fully submit to God's will, especially when it is most challenging.

Some thoughts on the raising of Lazarus

What was going through the disciples’ heads? First, Jesus tells them that "this isn’t going to end in death." Then, two days later, he says, "Lazarus is dead." Surely that series of events must have shaken their faith in him? At least Thomas remained willing to rally his peers: "Let’s go die with him." It’s the kind of confidence that gets utterly crushed when one falls short. I think Thomas' subsequent doubt was rooted in his own perceived failure to see his resolve through to his own end. But he was ultimately restored, became a faithful leader in the early church, eventually fulfilling his earlier rash promise.

How about Martha? I love Martha; maybe it’s because I think we tend to have a lot in common with her. I know I do. Don’t we compare ourselves to those around us who aren’t measuring up to our standards of behavior, just as she judged her sister for not helping out? Now, here she is, on the one hand saying, "Yes Lord, I know my brother will rise in the resurrection on the last day," and affirming "I believe that you’re the Messiah, the very Son of God." But when it comes to actually trusting Jesus, she says, "Umm . . . but . . . but . . . , if you roll away that stone, it’s going to really STINK!" Aren’t we like that? "Yes, Lord, I believe," we say, but then, when the path before us heads in a direction we don’t want to go, or of which we’re afraid, we hem and haw and look for all the reasons we should choose our own way. "But . . . but . . . ," we stammer. Eventually we'll likely have to face what we're afraid of anyway, and the hurt can get a lot worse if we delay. We may find it easy to trust God to do what we want him to, but not trust him enough to agree to go where he is clearly leading us. We trust in our own judgment rather than God’s, when if we do what we know we ought to do, what God is waiting to empower us to do, our lives would be SO much better. Indeed, we would become the people we dare not hope to be.

I think this passage teaches us about obedience in another important way, too.

Suppose they hadn’t rolled away the stone?

When Christ delivers us from death, we owe it to ourselves to continue to follow his guidance, or we’ll experience further pain and death. Once I know I’ve been delivered, shouldn’t it become easier to obey God in every leading? Too often, it isn't.

In whom do we place our trust, really?

From The Seven Levels of Intimacy

I've stayed home sick yesterday and today with my worst cold in several years. Everything has an upside, though: I've rested a LOT, and have been able to read more than usual. Here are some quotes and reflections from Matthew Kelly's book, The Seven Levels of Intimacy:

"Revealing our feelings makes us vulnerable, but we endure risks in order to reap rewards. The reward of making ourselves vulnerable is mental health."

I'm struck by the simple truth of that statement. Trying to keep yourself safe all the time will literally drive you crazy! We need people in our lives with whom we can just be ourselves, can let our guard down to simply feel whatever it is we're feeling and express it appropriately. We cannot have true intimacy without this freedom.

"The genius of intimacy is that when we bring our dark side out into the light in the context of a loving relationship, our darkness loses its power over us. Darkness cannot abide the light of love. It is intimacy that will hold our hand and walk through the dark rooms of our past and present. It is intimacy that has the power to set us free from our faults, fears, and failures."

How true I have found this to be in my own life. Every close relationship I've ever experienced has involved the sharing of something deeply personal and painful, and in every case it has opened the door to intimacy. Unfortunately, that only brings the light of freedom to the degree that we can acknowledge the darkness' past power over us.

Now obviously in both of these ideas there is an underlying assumption. You can't just take someone off the street and decide that the two of you are going to be emotionally intimate. Obviously, to reach these levels of intimacy requires that a relationship has developed between people with similar goals which has allowed them to develop a sense of trust with one another. Not until our partner proves trustworthy in small matters can we entrust them with larger ones.

"There is a saying in Christian circles that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."

I believe that most hypocrisy is the result of people being unwilling to face their own failings. If I've never received mercy -- even if it has been offered freely, if I've never wrapped myself in forgiveness and even come to embrace the role my failings have played in making me the person I am today -- then I'm unlikely to be be very accepting of myself. But (I think) it's psychologically impossible for us to live that way, so we project all of our self-judgment on those around us. Instead of striving to be the person we could be, we settle for being better than "them," as if we don't deserve any better than that.

And maybe we don't. Maybe we're all born with an inner awareness of the ugliness of sin, or if you prefer, with an inner hatred of how we hurt others. And it isn't until we have freely received mercy and forgiveness for our own failings that we can begin to accept others in spite of theirs.

Prayer and fasting

I find it entirely too easy to let my life get away from me. I know it isn't just me that sometimes feels overwhelmed by the pace of life amid the circumstances surrounding me. It takes conscious choice to keep my attention on the things I've decided are really important to me, and those choices sometimes have to be adjusted for the sake of others who are important to me.

Prayer time this Lent has been more consistent than in the past months, but really intense reflection time, the sort that leads to some nugget of value to share here, has sometimes had to take a back seat to family issues.

There's a neat thing going on in our parish (and a couple nearby parishes) this Friday and Saturday. Apparently a bunch of our high school kids have taken on a sense of unity with the world's hungry. In an effort to be more in unity with them, as a way to help them focus on what they might do in response to the problem, they're going to have a lock-in this weekend. They're going to have dinner on Friday, then fast together for 24 hours, drinking only fruit juice, until dinner on Saturday. It gives me hope to see our young people looking beyond themselves in this way. Not everyone can do this, of course; some people have legitimate health reasons not to fast thus. But everyone can fast in some way in their lives, give up for a time something that normally has power over them so as to gain possession of themselves in a new way.

Another neat thing that has happened in response to these kids' decision is that some of the adults in our parish have decided to support them in fasting and prayer. A fast is easy to undertake, but takes commitment to see through when the stomach begins to feel really empty. It can be a self-setup for confirming one's sense of failure, if you're not careful. But the thing is, a fast isn't really about the person fasting, and I believe God is pleased when we make a personal sacrifice in order to think beyond ourselves. It expands our awareness of the world, and begets more selflessness, which is a good thing.

Feasting and fasting

Last night we participated in what has become a wonderful annual tradition in our parish: the Shrove Tuesday evening prayer and feast, a family-friendly version of Mardi Gras. The children's and adults' choirs sang a few upbeat songs before the service, while families gathered with their kids, and it was an almost raucous atmosphere. I mean, the church was just packed, with everyone pumped for a fun time. Then the evening prayer service started in earnest, with more up-tempo singing and liturgical dance. And while things remained highly celebratory, the mood of the congregation shifted noticeably, as our rejoicing took on a sense of reverential thanks which even all the children seemed to get. The continuous undercurrent of noise that was present during our pre-service music just disappeared as we prayed and sang together.

Our pastor shared briefly on the contrast between the feasting of yesterday and the fast we start together today. He observed that we have just as many things in our life for which we are thankful, for which we have reason to proclaim an alleluia, and which we continue to appreciate during Lent. Still, we choose to shift our attention to ways in which we need to grow. It is a special season of growth and transformation, containing an important element of introspection but without self-centeredness or (especially!) self-loathing. After our joyful prayer together, we went over to the school gym/cafeteria for a snack-fest of nachos, popcorn, Belgian waffles, ice cream sundaes, and assorted other goodies. What a boisterous and joyful event!

All of this had me reflecting this morning on why we fast, and a thought immediately came to mind from a book I'm reading, Matthew Kelly's Seven Levels of Intimacy. At one point, he talks about the childish images that we so often associate with the concept of discipline (not a concept we normally apply to relationships and intimacy), and how we bristle against any intimation of having limits imposed on us. He suggests we instead think of the discipline of an athlete freely choosing to bring out the best in him- or herself. "Discipline," he says, "is a gift we give ourselves." He goes on to describe how our lives and relationships thrive when we gift them with appropriate self-discipline. "Discipline doesn't enslave or stifle us; rather, it sets us free to soar to unimagined heights." Still, discipline isn't the core human experience. Rather, it is the key to making us truly free from enslavement to the inertia and hedonism of modern life. "Freedom is not the ability to do whatever you want." How well this immature approach to freedom fits our faulty notion of discipline! "Freedom is the strength of character to do what is good, true, noble, and right. Freedom is the ability to choose and celebrate the-best-version-of-yourself [one of his central concepts] in every moment. Freedom without discipline is impossible."

Yet, he goes on, freedom is also not the core human experience. Rather, love is the essence of life. But to truly love we must be free, "for to love is to give your self [emphasis his] to someone or something freely, completely, unconditionally, and without reservation . . . Yet to give yourself -- to another person, to an endeavor, or to God -- you must first possess yourself." Self-possession requires freedom, and we are not free without the exercise of discipline.

Thus the season of Lent. Many people have discipline in their lives without a particular season. Still, I find it very helpful in this specific season of each year to journey together with others who are also seeking to become more free, so that we can truly love as we are called to do.

Valentine's Day

One of my goals in life is to never let my wife regret that we don't go out for dinner on Valentine's Day. Tonight, Epicurious.com helped me succeed for another year. She wasn't expecting much, knowing we had some not very impressive sirloin tips and new potatoes in the larder for tonight's meal. So when she came upstairs to find peppered steak with a port, zin, and 'shroom sauce, along with balsamic roasted potato wedges and a nice, simple salad, she was pleasantly surprised, and impressed far more than my effort warranted. And dessert -- strawberries in a chocolate caramel sauce with lightly sweetened whipped cream -- well, let's just say it far exceeded expectations.

Thanks, Mrs. Markelonis (my Bachelor Survival teacher in high school, who taught us our way around the kitchen, among other important survival skills)!

Oh, I almost forgot (what I'm sure, from her perspective, was) the best part! It was a snap to clean up as I went along, so I had all the dinner dishes done before dessert, and the dessert dishes not long thereafter. I hope my darling knows how much I love her!

Prayer in the context of relationship

There are many different ways to pray, and many different things to pray for. Is it right to pray for little, everyday things, as well as over more seemingly important matters? After establishing the context of relationships (previous post, below), I feel comfortable beginning to transition in this discussion of prayer, which is really a continuation:

Another paradox about giving self vs. giving things concerns that the way in which we give our self, which after all can be a little hard to put our finger on, exactly, is to give something more tangible: a hug, time, attention, a carefully-considered gift, help to grow, the choice to sacrifice something we want for the sake of the other (that can be a tough one, and here's another:), forgiveness when we've been really hurt, etc. But in a relationship, we can't only give big things, for a couple reasons. As human (flawed) givers, we tend to need to develop a degree of trust before we can give, and small giving helps us be able to trust ourselves for larger giving. But as receivers, we are also have a hard time accepting (in trust) gifts of others that seem, well, too much for the relationship we have with them. So all giving should serve to build up the relationship, and the giving and receiving smaller things paves the way for giving and receiving bigger things, all of which is ultimately really about giving and receiving one another to a degree appropriate for the relationship.

Likewise, in our relationship with God, God isn't primarily interested in giving us things, he primarily wants to give us himself.

So now we begin to see that it isn't merely okay, but a good idea to ask God for small blessings as well as big ones. (These thoughts aren't original; St. Paul was inspired with them long ago!) In either case, it isn't that God doesn't already know our need before we ask. It is that asking God for what we think we need, and trusting God to provide what we really need (maybe I really need to overcome a small adversity more than I need a close-in parking spot, for instance), and then seeing that God's grace was indeed active in my life in that small thing, helps me to trust God in larger ones.

Oh, the reverse is also true. As we give of ourselves to God (i.e. trusting God's revealed opinion rather than the way I wish the world worked, or putting someone else's needs ahead of my own, recognizing that I'm giving to God in them) in small things, we become more capable of trusting God's loving providence when it comes to bigger concerns.

Another relationship-related aspect of this question: what would any relationship we have be like if we could only talk about the big things, and couldn't "bother" the other with the little ones? We may have experienced something like this in our own teenage years, and see it from the other side as our children go through those challenging teenage years. Didn't it almost seem as if every conversation with our parents was about something major? As a kid, for a while it got to where I avoided my mom so as to avoid the next big discussion. As an adult, I won't swear I dreaded those conversations with my daughters as much they did, but I bet it was closer than they'd realize. Isn't it true that dealing with the little things together along the way increases our capacity to deal with larger issues when they arrive? It nurtures our relationship, and gives us the solid foundation we need for the big stuff. And if we don't deal with life's little things together, don't we feel too far from the other to entrust ourselves on the things that are most important to us? Oh, we might still consult on big things, if they're important enough, but really tend to rely only on ourselves and overvalue our own opinion. As it is, don't we feel a little nervous about how the other person might respond?

I suppose that's just that trust issue again from another perspective. Still, just as discussion with our friends and loved ones over the small matters helps nurture our relationships to provide a forum for the larger ones, likewise turning to God over the "little things" nurtures that relationship as well. God, of course, knows and loves us intimately already. Prayer in all things helps us to begin to know God more intimately, as well.

Don't think for a moment this is an ideal I've achieved! God, please draw me nearer . . .

Relationships (a prelude to some thoughts on prayer)

I was recently writing to someone on the topic of prayer, and I thought it might make good blog material. Like, maybe three or four posts worth. (I guess I can be a bit verbose!). Anyway, here's the first installment:

It's impossible for me to discuss prayer except in the context of my relationship with God, just like I couldn't discuss communication with my wife outside of the context of the rest of our relationship.

Let's bear in mind that our relationship with God is, first and foremost, just that. A relationship usually isn't primarily about giving things to one another, it's about giving ourselves to one another in some way. We don't give ourselves in any two relationships in precisely the same way, but all of them (well, all healthy ones, anyway) provide an opportunity to receive from God in them and give ourselves in return back to God through them.

There are a couple of seemingly paradoxical things about this idea of giving ourselves in any relationship. One is that really giving ourself to another doesn't reduce us, but increases our capacity to love. (So many pertinent ways to go with this one thought!)

- As we give ourself to our spouse, we become more ready to give ourself to him or her in the future
- It is likewise as we and our spouse reach beyond our relationship to jointly give ourselves to others. A particular and wonderful manifestation of this is in giving of ourselves to the new lives we may be blessed to participate in creating
- As we give ourself to our spouse (and our spouse receives us), he or she becomes more able to receive love
- As we and our partner jointly give ourselves to others, those others become more able to receive love. Again, we see this most profoundly in the children we raise. Hopefully, they move from being utter takers, giving us only the joy of knowing we've given to them and the hope of their blank future, to eventually growing into adults who give of themselves in marvelous ways we could never envision
- This receiving and giving of love - and truly we must have received to ever have anything to give - expands our ability to receive and give love

Each of these two basic aspects of giving ourselves in love is a parable of God's love (and like all parables, has its limits; for one thing, God has no need to become more loving).

- As God gives himself (the more PC form of that would be God's self, as God is ultimately either not masculine nor feminine or else fully encompasses all aspects of both genders, but let's not go there; I use a pronoun for the sake of simpler writing and to keep God more accessible to my brain, and use the male one chiefly out of familiarity) to us, and we receive him, we become more capable of receiving love
- When we truly receive God's love, we desire to share it with others, be it our family, our dear friends, or those who have some need that we see are particularly equipped to meet and through which we ultimately give of ourselves to do so
- As we receive God's love into our lives and love God in return, it expands our ability to receive and give love to and from God and others

Now, what happens when, perhaps out of fear or self-judgment of some sort, we are unable to receive or accept love, from God or others? Then we have nothing to give. Our lives become a self-fulfilling prophecy of fear and failure. If I can't receive a blessing from God - directly or through others - either because I'm afraid to trust or because I ultimately don't believe I deserve it, then what I'm really blocking off is my ability to receive the relationship with God or the other person. (We are working our way back toward prayer, honest!)

On being out of control

I'm convinced that one of our greatest fears -- behind public speaking, if the hype on that one is true -- is to not be in control. While this fear often goes unrecognized, I believe it is at the root of nearly every obsession in our lives, in one way or another, and drives more decision making than we would ever like to admit. I could write volumes on this idea.

The appropriate recognition and exercise of control is one of the keys to an emotionally healthy life. The fruitless attempt to control things that are really beyond our control drives most familial dysfunctions, and a failure to control our own actions properly drives most addictive behaviors. In my experience, these two unhealthy approaches to life -- the attempt to control what we cannot and the inability to control what we should -- frequently coexist. It would be worth spending some more time on that, but this post isn't going there.

I always thought that once our children grew into adults my wife and I would have almost universal control over our schedules. I envisioned having the kids and grandkids over regularly, babysitting occasionally, but mostly having our time to ourselves. That has happened, to a degree; I generally have time to cycle a couple days a week (in season), and we don't have to make sure our kids are taken care of as we make whatever plans we're interested in. Still, I envisioned that most weekends the two of us would have most of our time to ourselves.

What a foolish dream that is turning out to be!

On Friday night, our youngest called to ask if we could watch her two (18 months and 1 month) for a few hours. My wife and I had an understanding that we wouldn't babysit Saturday because of planned activities Sunday morning at church, so seeing as the rest of the weekend was looking open, we agreed.

Ahh, but on Saturday afternoon, our oldest called us from the hospital. She'd been admitted again for the chronic health problem she's been dealing with since she was 12 or so. Her youngest two (3½ and a young 6) needed someone to stay with while Dad worked. In such circumstances, we wouldn't say no unless it was clear that they were taking advantage of us rather than using a more appropriate option. The kids finally got picked up around 7 Sunday evening.

Our grandkids are a great blessing. They're mostly well-behaved. We're glad to be in a position to spend time with them. Still, come Saturday, it was important for us to make the decision to watch them, to realize that we were choosing to have them over, to avoid feeling out of control. The truth is that we could have put our foot down and refused to help out, or begrudingly agreed and thus felt put out. But in these circumstances, either of these options would have meant choosing to be other than the people we want to be.

Control over our circumstances is an illusion. We have absolutely no control over our daughters' health. But recognizing the control we have over the decisions we make in response to our circumstances, and exercising that control appropriately, is essential. We were able to be patient and loving with our grandchildren, to respond to them effectively all weekend, since we didn't feel out of control, because we recognized we'd made the best decision -- even if it was an obvious one.

Ahh, but when our youngest asked us to babysit again tonight (Sunday), after the weekend we've had? We had the insight to recognize that we needed to choose otherwise.

Finding the sacred amidst the familiar

This Sunday's gospel reading will be the conclusion of the narrative of Jesus reading from the prophet Isaiah in his hometown synagogue. His neighbors, knowing his roots (including, one would presume, his scandalous birth circumstances), were a tad skeptical of the stories they'd heard of him from abroad, and his response to their skepticism further roused their ire against him.

It makes me consider who, in my life, I think I know so well that I quickly dismiss them without considering whether God may be speaking to me somehow through them. I believe God uses the circumstances of our lives, especially our relationships with those around us, in remarkable ways. I also believe we miss a lot of the messages for failure to value the vessels through whom they are given us.

Super Bowl menu

In recent years, we've nurtured a tradition of planning the dinner menu for Super Bowl Sunday around the teams in the game. Some years present a bounty of options; other years, not so much. The Bills introduced us to Buffalo wings, the Bengals to Cincinnati-style chili, and the 49'ers to sourdough bread. New England has been a boon. Pittsburgh was a bit of a challenge; I can't even remember how we represented them, besides Heinz condiments. My all time favorite was definitely SB XXXV: crab cakes for the main entreé, with an authentic NY style cheesecake for dessert (the latter was nearly as good as the family recipe, though completely different in style).

But as nearly as I can tell, there is a serious dearth of signature food items for Chicago and Indianapolis -- an additional reason I was rooting for the Saints! Fortunately, I have the first of the two covered. After all, Chicago is the home of deep dish pizza, and there's a Pizzeria Uno within 6 miles of our house. Still, we've been to Chicago and, like most of the locals I know there, our definite preference is for Giordano's stuffed pizza. Oh, how I want to order from there, but the additional shipping cost may lead us to fall back on Uno's.

Preliminary research indicates that the "signature" items for Indianapolis (or, more generally, for Indiana) are breaded pork tenderloin sandwiches and sugar cream pie. The latter should be doable, I'd think. Any Hoosiers (is there another term for someone from Indiana? Indianans just doesn't seem right!), feel free to leave suggestions, especially if you have a particularly delectable recipe for sugar cream pie!

Reflections on Psalm 19

We're singing this Psalm this weekend, so I found myself reflecting on it this morning. Random thoughts:

Lord, you have the words of everlasting life: I don't know (without looking it up) if this refrain we're singing is an actual verse of the psalm or merely an added responsory. Still, it seems worth an observation. It represents the disciples' response to Jesus when many followers had left him because his words were too cryptic or challenging for them. This is also true: "Lord, You are the Word of everlasting life."

The law of the Lord is perfect: We will never find a way that is superior to God's perfect Way. We worship what we think of as our superior intellect, without realizing we are not intellectually more developed than our ancestors of whom we read. We may be more learned, more technologically advanced, and more civilized, but we aren't any smarter, and we would do well to recall this from time to time. God's word isn't any less applicable than it has ever been, either, or any less perfect.

. . . refreshing the soul: Considering the perfection of God, our fundamental need for him, and, most particularly, the fact that God will never fail to meet that need for us, is indeed the refreshment for which our souls long. Though we look to slake our thirst with all sorts of other pursuits and pleasures, God alone refreshes us.

The Lord's rule is to be trusted: We insist on trusting only ourselves, when our judgment (on our own) is least trustworthy. Our vision is clouded by our emotions, our wants, our hurts and fears. The Lord's rule and guidance are reliable where our self-determination is flawed.

The simple find Wisdom: Society would dispute it, but simple faith is of greater value than our greatest sophistication.

The fear of the Lord is holy: There's that phrase "fear of the Lord" that is so off-putting. If only we would fear offending or hurting God as much as we fear so many other circumstances in our lives.

. . . abiding forever: When we dwell in God, we find our eternal home.

The command of the Lord is clear: When we choose our own way, it is rarely for failure to see God's way. The path God sets before us is usually very straightforward. But since our faith is usually in ourselves, we too often choose our own evaluation, our own wants, instead of the clear guidance God has given us.

giving light to the eye: I just came from our second graders' first Reconciliation service. The image of the light of Christ, and of restoring that light when we have chosen darkness, was powerful. The Way which God sets before us is illuminated and illuminating. We may not always see the second step ahead of us, but the first one is generally well lit, and we need only trust that the next one will be when we get there, too.

the precepts of the Lord are right: We want to decide right and wrong for ourselves, but no amount of self-deterministic morality will ever lead us in right paths. God's Word, particularly as manifested in Christ Jesus, will not lead us anywhere else.

they gladden the heart: When we embrace God's guidance, we find the desires of our heart fulfilled. (Sometimes that's because our desires have changed to match God's!)

The decrees of the Lord are true: I've been alluding to the Way, but let's not forget Jesus said he is the Truth, too.

. . . all of them just: In our society, we tend to doubt this. We see some which we think cannot be just. But will we trust our own judgment, or will we seek a way to conform ours to God's?

They are worth more than the finest gold: No treasure we can possess can ever rival the gift of knowing and living God's will.

. . . sweeter than honey from the comb: God's desire for us is far sweeter than our greatest ambition for ourselves!

An apology

Okay, for the first time ever, I've taken a post down.

My blog has never, like, had any READERS, so I've never much worried about what I've posted here. I'll be more sensitive in the future.

The offending post was COMPLETELY tongue-in-cheek.

Note to T: I think it's GREAT that you're involved with the kids and, contrary to my post, I wasn't at all offended by your gifts to them. I apologize for hurting your feelings. I've never felt that you or any of your family are ignorant. Quite the opposite, and despite my "poor judgment" gag, I think the world of your brother. I hope the misunderstanding was just a matter of us not knowing each other well enough. But not realizing I was joking, I can understand why it would offend. Feel free to call us (get our number from C.) if you like, so that I can apologize more personally.

Public responsibility within one's sphere of influence

I was just reading, with great sadness, the news stories of the young boys who have hung themselves in imitation of videos they've seen of Saddam Hussein's hanging. The thing that strikes me is how our communication can have meaning vastly different from what we intended by it. I'm sure the news services had no inkling that their broadcasts could have these results; the fact that their intentions were completely different from the effects on these young lives, now tragicaly cut short, is of no comfort to the families now in mourning.

This strikes me particularly sharply because of having recently written words that were taken at face value, rather than being received in the joking manner I intended. It isn't the readers' fault that they didn't know my intentions. The words were pretty strong, so why would a reader who doesn't really know me take them at anything other than face value?

Now I pray that I haven't created a problem that was a lot bigger than the joke I intended my words to be.