Consecrating the Self-Sanctified

My lovely bride will accuse me of getting lost in the details, but I will counter that I'm just seeking a better understanding of God's revelation to us.

In the 19th chapter of the Book of Exodus (featured in the Office of Readings for Friday of the Second Week of Lent), God announced to Moses that he was going to appear in a dense cloud before Israel. In the New American Bible (NAB) translation used by the Catholic Church in her liturgies, God instructs Moses, "Go to the people and have them sanctify themselves today and tomorrow." (Exodus 19:10, NAB) A few verses later, "Moses came down from the mountain to the people and had them sanctify themselves and wash their garments." (Exodus 19:14, NAB)

I was a little confused about the meaning of the verb "sanctify" and how the Israelites would do it to themselves, so I looked up the passage in my Revised Standard Version (RSV). The translation is different, and it seems to me that the meaning changes. "Go to the people and consecrate them today and tomorrow" (Exodus 19:10, NAB) and "Moses went down from the mountain to the people, and consecrated the people; and they washed their garments." (Exodus 19:14, RSV)

In the NAB, the people sanctify themselves. In the RSV, Moses consecrates the people. Sanctify means to make holy, or dedicated to the service of God. Consecrate means much the same thing, although I've always thought that there was a subtle difference, based on the second or third definitions of holy. My confusion remains, however, between whether the Israelites did it to themselves or had it done to them by Moses.

Preparing a Disaster

You do know that our country is headed for a fiscal cliff, right? Not only is our Treasury Secretary trying to convince us that our serial trillion dollar deficits are sustainable, he is, at the same time, refusing to acknowledge that the growth of entitlement spending (i.e., Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid) is projected to accelerate in the next few years. Most of the politicians and bureaucrats in Washington know this, but choose to ignore it. After all, somebody else will be in the driver’s seat when the car of state speeds over the edge.

There are exceptions, of course. One thinks of Paul Ryan, primarily, but my own Congressman, Jim Jordan, also comes to mind. Jordan, as head of the Republican Study Committee, actually submitted to the House of Representatives a budget that was (gasp!) balanced.

Still, I couldn’t help but think of our “leaders” in the marbled halls along the Potomac when I read this passage from Jeremiah.

“Now therefore say to the people of Judah and those living in Jerusalem, ‘This is what the LORD says: Look! I am preparing a disaster for you and devising a plan against you. So turn from your evil ways, each one of you, and reform your ways and your actions.’ But they will reply, ‘It’s no use. We will continue with our own plans; each of us will follow the stubbornness of his evil heart.’” (Jer 18:11-12)

Festivities of Body and Mind

I regret having to admit that my attention often wanders during mass, even though I know the majesty of the event in which I am participating. This is especially true when I am attending with one or more of my younger children. Occasionally, however, my attention deficit is penetrated, and a word or phrase or prayer snaps me to a more alert state.

That was the case this past weekend, the Second Sunday of Lent, when the celebrant recited the Prayer over the Offerings:

May this sacrifice, O Lord, we pray,
cleanse us of our faults,
and sanctify your faithful in body and mind
for the celebration of the paschal festivities.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

This is a prayer in the Sunday liturgy of the Church, so I think that I’m pretty safe in assuming that it’s been fully vetted. It’s going to take me some time to wrap my mind about what it’s saying.

I typically think of sanctification as something that happens on a spiritual level. Here, though, we’re praying for the sanctification of our body and mind. We can sin through what we do, and when we do something sinful, we use our bodies. But isn’t the soul the motivating force of the body? Our thoughts are products of the mind, but don’t they originate in the soul?

Yes and no. Our bodies are just as much a part of who we are as are our souls. When we worship, we involve our bodies. The sacraments have physical components (water, oil, laying on of hands, etc.). Furthermore, there are instances where the body acts directly upon the will. At some point, an addict might no longer have any choice in the matter – he can no longer help himself. Some have suggested that this is what St. Paul was getting at in Romans 7:17: “As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.”

The mind is similar. We like to think that we control all of our thoughts, but it is not always so. Suicide was long regarded a sin, but the Church has recognized that it can be the result of mental illness, and that suicidal thoughts are not necessarily freely chosen or fully willed. Recent studies have suggested that viewing pornography results in physical changes in the brain that make it difficult for men or women to freely choose what is good and healthy in their relationships with others.

It is appropriate, therefore, to pray that our body and mind be sanctified, for the soul cannot be sanctified while it is held in slavery to sin.

The second striking phrase in that prayer was the reference to the paschal festivities. I’m familiar with the Paschal Mystery – the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. I’ve never heard it referred to with the term “festivities,” though. I’ve heard the mass described not only as a sacrifice, but also as a celebration, but “festivities” seems to imply a much lighter atmosphere. Could it be that a nuance was lost in the translation?

Middle-Aged Husband Syndrome

From yesterday’s Bleat, in reference to a new Lileks family hamster:

The old hamster cage is out, replaced by a nice airy wire model, and he’s already explored every part of it. The Previous Hamster, or TPH, never wanted to go anywhere. Maybe he was a reincarnated middle-aged husband.

I note this only for the benefit of my dear one, who complains that I never want to go anywhere. It’s not just me, honey, it’s the middle-aged husband syndrome.

Picking a Candidate

Today is Super Tuesday, and Ohio is allegedly the big prize this year. It’s been a long time since my vote in the Presidential primary has meant anything, so I certainly didn’t want to waste my chance to help pick the Republican candidate. On my ballot, I got to cast votes for two delegates, so I cast one vote for Rick Perry and one vote for John Huntsman, the two men most likely to be able to defeat Barack Obama in November.

No, not really.

I have refrained from commenting on the race. Way back in 2010, I noted my preference for three governors, one of whom never got in, the other two bowed out early. Now the selections on the platter are down to four, and I had to pick one to vote for this morning.

I was never going to vote for Ron Paul. I like some of his libertarian message (stop spending and get the government out of areas where it doesn’t belong), but I can’t sign on to some of the other things (end the Fed, return to the gold standard, non-engagement foreign policy). He might be consistent, but his list of legislative accomplishments is extremely thin and there’s the whole matter of his newsletters, into which he claims to have had no input.

Newt Gingrich is certainly fun to listen to when he’s deconstructing the bias behind the questions asked by mainstream media interviewers (such as he recently did to David Gregory on Meet the Press). But he also sometimes reveals a lack of discipline that leads him to say that we’ll have a permanent moon base by the end of his second term. You simply never know when he’s going to say something cringe-inducing. Legislatively, he did some great things as Speaker of the House, but those who worked most closely with him described his leadership as mercurial. He has talent and ideas that need to be harnessed, but I don’t think he should be at the head of the Executive Branch. The President needs to have a stable personality, and Newt doesn’t.

Rick Santorum was involved in passing some signature bills during his time in Congress. He is an evangelical Catholic, and I happen to agree with most of what he says, even when the secular media gasp in astonishment. He has a way of saying it, though, that makes him sound like a fringe kook. He whined his way through most of the debates. He has no executive experience. He didn’t even try to get on the Virginia ballot, and he failed to get on the Ohio ballot in some of his strongest areas of the state. I don’t think that he’s up to the job of running the federal government.

That leaves us with Mitt Romney, who ran for office in Massachusetts as a progressive Republican. He claims to have come to embrace conservative principles as a state executive. Those who don’t like Romney doubt his veracity in this respect. I don’t know, but I accept that, as Governor of Massachusetts, he was as pro-life in practice as he could be. The similarity between Romneycare and Obamacare is focused on the individual mandate to purchase health insurance. The Supreme Court might or might not declare this provision unconstitutional. The mandate, however, was initially supported by conservative think tanks like the Heritage Foundation, and, in its absence, there still has to be a resolution of the balance between insurance companies that can deny coverage to those with preexisting conditions and those who choose not to purchase insurance until they need it. More importantly to me, though, is that Romney currently says all the right things and has demonstrated an ability to successfully organize and run things at an executive level.

Policy-wise, I don’t see much difference between Romney, Gingrich, and Santorum. Where I see a big difference is in executive demeanor. Romney, I think, has it; Gingrich and Santorum do not.

It Gave It Everything It Had

Travelling back to my office after a morning meeting, I heard this report on the local news radio station. It seems that law enforcement officials spotted a stolen vehicle north of Tipp City. A high-speed pursuit ensued, lasting 35 minutes and topping speeds of 100 mph. The chase ended, it was reported, when the engine in the minivan blew up.

Imagine a 100 mph chase in a minivan, and a stolen one at that!

On returning to the office, I had to share the story with a co-worker, who remarked, “That minivan gave all that it had.”

A Preexisting Condition

In the March 5 issue of National Review, James Lileks perfectly captures the absurdity of the Obama administration’s contraception mandate as only Mr. Lileks can, and he doesn’t even go anywhere near the denial of religious freedom that is at the heart of Catholic objections.

Let’s imagine a dockworker in 1948. He’s got a hot date with a fast chippy, but y’know, like they told him in the Army, the last thing a fella needs is a dose of the drip. So he goes to his boss, who’s in the office talking on the phone. “Give me a dollar out of petty cash,” the worker says. “I need to buy some French letters.”

The employer might have regarded the employee with confusion: I must have misunderstood. For what purpose do you require the loan?

“I need some rubbers. And it’s not a loan.”

This would have been unthinkable. But we’ve moved forward. We’ve grown! Now it’s assumed that your employer will defer the cost of zygote determent, because fertility is a preexisting condition. What’s more, free birth control protects women from the adverse impact of a strange, mysterious situation that affects millions every year: sudden-sex syndrome. We don’t fully understand how it works, or what the causes might be, but apparently there’s nothing you can do about it. All of a sudden you’re just having sex! There’s not a moment to exercise free will or consider the consequences; it’s just like being struck by lightning and lightning doesn’t call you afterwards for days either.

Hence the panic over letting employer decline to provide tools to cope with sudden-sex syndrome. They have to! Mommy, make the mean man give me my pills. All the people who wanted government out of their bedroom insist not only that it take a seat in the corner, but that it bring in business and compel it to leave its wallet on the nightstand.

The Ethics of Infanticide

I approach with a default skepticism any statement by a figure who calls himself an “ethicist.” Morality divorced from theology is bad enough. Ethics seems to be a field that seeks to define not what is right, but rather what is permissible, and in so doing, avoids any exploration of morality.

The latest ethicist effrontery comes from Oxford University in an article published in the Journal of Medical Ethics. A group of Oxford ethicists argue that an infant is morally equivalent to a fetus, therefore infanticide should be legal. Jonah Goldberg, writing in the Corner, reflects my thoughts on the matter and expresses them far better than I could.

The Culture of Death starts from the acceptability of abortion and extends that to infanticide. The Culture of Life starts from the unacceptability of infanticide (and murder, in general) and extends the wrongness of it to aborting a fetus. Both sides accept that the fetus and the infant are morally equivalent.

The pro-life argument would work backwards to conception. Where would the line be drawn by the other side? Is there any moral difference between an ethicist who argues for infanticide and an infant?

Senior Mom

Many high school sports have become year-round activities, whether it’s open gym for basketball and volleyball or off-season lifting for football. My oldest son is a football player, and football is his only sport. Next year he will be a senior.

Derek came home from lifting recently and announced that all of the other seniors (this year’s juniors are now considered football seniors) were either playing baseball or running track. He, therefore, was the only senior at the off-season workouts. I commented that it was up to him to provide senior leadership to all of the under-classmen. He’s not big on leadership, and he gave me one of his “yeah, right Dad” looks.

More interesting was the reaction of his mother. In an expression of combined fear, disgust, and constipation, she erupted, “Does that mean I’m supposed to be a senior mom?” The mothers of the senior players, you see, play an important behind (and sometimes in front of) the scenes support role for the team. It’s a role that my dear wife clearly is not looking forward to.

I’m not sure what senior dads do.

The Church Flatulent

Quote of the day (yesterday, actually) has to go to Professor Paul Rahe of Hillsdale College. Writing on Ricochet, Prof. Rahe closes a post on Abortion and Contraception thusly:

Persecution can be and often is good for the Church. In its absence, the Church Militant has a way of turning into the Church Flatulent.

Suddenly Lent

SNAP! Just like that, the liturgical season changes, and it’s Lent. With Advent, you’ve got the wind down of the previous year with the celebration of Christ the King and the secular shift toward Christmas. After Christmas, we’re eased gently into Ordinary Time with Epiphany and the Baptism of the Lord. Lent is different. We’re cruising along through Ordinary Time when Ash Wednesday jumps out of the bushes at us in the middle of the week. We are told that we have to fast and abstain, and suddenly the atmosphere becomes penitential.

Can you tell that I don’t take fasting particularly well?

There are some cultural (i.e., non-liturgical) precursors to Ash Wednesday. There’s Carnival, Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday (I admit to indulging in a Fat Tuesday ritual of taking lunch at a Chinese buffet). But these celebrations aren’t any kind of transitionary preparations. They are the equivalent of hitting the accelerator just before smashing into a wall, which makes the collision that much more jarring. It is much more appropriate that the feast follow the fast, as Easter follows Good Friday.

For me, Lent comes just in time this year. The emphasis on almsgiving, prayer, and fasting calls me to reform areas of my life in which I have grown lax. It’s not as though Christians only do these things during Lent. We should do them year-round. Lent, however, is a season for renewed observance. We are reminded just how far we have relapsed and invited to make good things habitual once again.

Yes, the onset of Lent is like a slap in the face – a slap that’s needed to restore our spiritual senses to the real world. It is time to re-focus our vision and discipline on what really matters.

Avoid Giving Offense

I had to allow myself a private chuckle this morning as I read today’s selection for the first reading at mass. Recall that last Sunday, we heard from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians: “Avoid giving offense, whether to the Jews or Greeks or the church of God.” (1 Cor 10:32) Contrast that with these words from the epistle of St. James: “Do you want proof, you ignoramus, that faith without works is useless?” (James 2:20)

These are the New American Bible (NAB) translations used by the Catholic Church in America for her liturgies. Other translations provide a little less contrast.

Bad Publicity

In the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel, we hear of a leper who approaches Jesus and is healed. Jesus tells the leper to present himself to the priests in accordance with the Mosaic Law. Jesus also warns the man (sternly!) to tell no one anything. The ex-leper disregarded the warning and “began to publicize the whole matter.” The passage, Mark 1:40-45, was the gospel pronounced at masses this past weekend.

Many commentators have offered their thoughts regarding why Jesus wanted the incident kept secret. I find the most plausible explanation to be that He knew what would happen when the word got out. People would come from far and wide seeking healing of their every infirmity. Their focus would be primarily selfish, and would interfere with his mission of proclaiming the Good News. Indeed, Mark shares some of these consequences in his Gospel. “He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly.” (Mark 1:45) The crowds get to be so bad that the disciples and family of Jesus begin to worry (Mark 3:21).

The Church has been entrusted with continuing the mission of Christ in the modern world. Just as Jesus faced threats to his ability to communicate his message, the Church today finds itself faced with unexpected obstacles. Foremost in my mind currently, given the events of the last few weeks, are the legions of contracepting Catholics who disregard Church teaching and then blab about it to every pollster who calls. Their very public disobedience causes people to discount the Church’s teaching authority: either it’s not important, it’s not binding, or it’s simply incorrect.

The Church has been, to some extent, acquiescent in allowing a very large proportion of its members to dissent from her teaching. The pontiffs, of course, from Pius XII to Paul VI, John Paul II, and Benedict XVI, have consistently taught the moral truth about abortion, contraception, and sterilization. Most Catholics, however, don’t read papal encyclicals, apostolic letters, or catechetical lectures. They depend upon their local pastor to steer them to spiritual safety. Aside from a few brave souls, the branch managers of the universal Church have been hesitant to broach the subject, lest the contrast with secular orthodoxy lead the luke-warm to bolt for the doors.

The same collection of readings that saw the proclamation of Mark 1:40-45 for the Gospel used Psalm 32 for the Responsorial Psalm. Verses 8 and 9 of the Psalm evoke a powerful image that I believe fits the majority of contracepting Catholics. “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you. Do not be like the horse or the mule, which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.” Those who reduce Church teaching to “Thou Shalt Not . . .” without attempting to understand the basis for that teaching are naturally going to resent what they see as interference in their personal lives.

In my mind, I can picture a personification of the Church, desperately trying to be heard amid a sea of equine beasts wanting to spit out their bits and straining at their bridles. We are one body in Christ, and there is no such thing as a purely private sin. Every sin harms the entire body, and some serve to rob the body of its voice. For those who have sinned, forgiveness is freely offered. But for the love of God, don’t make things worse by going around happily publicizing your sinfulness.

A Two-Front War

I had thought that the 2012 elections were going to be about economic issues – unsustainable government deficit spending and the inflationary monetary policy of the Federal Reserve. This was supposed to have been an election cycle where the social issues became secondary, to be dealt with after the existential threat had passed. Mitch Daniels, the Republican Governor of Indiana, famously called for a truce in the culture war due to the rising tide of red ink that was threatening to drown the country.

Suddenly, though, the social issues are back. It’s as if the scales have not fallen from my eyes, they’ve been ripped off, taking my eyelids with them. The creeping tyranny of an Executive Branch that is weary of having to follow the Constitution has become every bit the existential threat that Daniels’s red tide is.

The latest target is the First Amendment, guaranteeing Freedom of Religion to every citizen of the Republic. First, the Obama Administration tried to claim that churches and religious institutions could not discriminate in their employment, even of ministers. They tried to make it the law of the land that the Catholic Church would have to open the priesthood to women. Fortunately, the Supreme Court ruled against them 9 to 0. Not even the most liberal justices would condone such a naked usurpation of religious freedom.

Now we have the mandate from the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) that all employers, including religious institutions, but excluding narrowly defined churches) must provide all employees with free contraception and sterilization. This is clearly a violation of the consistent moral teaching of the Catholic Church, and the bishops of the United States have unanimously and loudly objected, stating that they would not and could not abide by the ruling. President Obama, who during the debt negotiations was willing to see the Federal government shut down before giving up federal funding of Planned Parenthood, doubled down. Most of the mainstream media mis-framed the argument, clearly with a bias in favor of the administration. Now, he has announced an "accommodation" which is no compromise at all, since all employers will still be required to provide health insurance that provides free contraception and sterilization. It is a blatant assault on liberty and an affront to Catholics who take the moral teaching of the Church seriously.

At the same time, a private cancer-research fund, the Susan G. Komen Foundation, announced that it would suspend financial support for Planned Parenthood. The Planned Parenthood goons went into overdrive, even going so far as hacking and defacing the Komen website, leading Komen to sheepishly apologize and restore funding.

Yes, the culture wars are alive and kicking. We focused on one front of the war and neglected the other, allowing the forces of evil (and I do not use the phrase lightly) to attack us in the rear. Now we have to fight a two-front war, and I fear that the momentum is against us. If we can't reverse the course of recent history, our government will cease to be of the people, by the people, and for the people. The Constitution will become nothing more than words on parchment, and the liberties guaranteed by the Constitution will be worth no more than the paper on which they are written.

The Archbishop's Letter

The bishops of the United States have come out swinging in response to the Obama administration’s ruling that nearly all employers must include full coverage of contraception and sterilization in their healthcare plans. In the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Archbishop Dennis Schnurr penned a letter to his flock stating, “We cannot – we will not – comply with this unjust law.”

The Archbishop’s letter was distributed as a bulletin insert at my sister’s parish in Dayton. Fr. Martin Fox notes that he read the letter at all of his Piqua masses this past weekend, and used the occasion to preach on what some consider to be the more counter-cultural teachings of the Church. I want to believe that the Archbishop's letter was distributed throughout the parishes of the Archdiocese. However, not a word was uttered in our little corner of “God’s country.” Maybe next weekend…

[UPDATE] Not a word was spoken from the pulpit, but the Archbishop's letter was included as an insert to the February 5 bulletin.

A Friend in Pain

I have a friend who injured a tendon in his ankle a couple of months ago. Several weeks in a boot resulted in no improvement, so he had surgery at the beginning of the year. Based on his comments, it sounds like the days after the surgery were very painful.

As a Catholic (my friend is also Catholic), I approach pain and suffering as an opportunity to be united with Christ. Through His Passion, He gave meaning to suffering, and we can unite our suffering to His, so that our suffering takes on meaning and becomes redemptive. It strikes me as bad form, however, to try to point this out to someone as they are experiencing the pain. The connection should be established before the suffering is entered into. The admonition to “offer it up” is not well received unless the soul has been properly prepared.

What then could I say to my friend in pain? To my delight, the liturgy came to my rescue in the form of the Collect prayer for Wednesday of the First Week of Ordinary Time. While I couldn’t come up with the words to tactfully say, “Hey dummy! Offer it up!” I could say, “I thought of you when I read this prayer from today’s mass.” He gave it a thumbs up, so I assume that it was well received.

O God, who willed that our infirmities
be borne by your Only Begotten Son
to show the value of human suffering,
listen in kindness to our prayers
for our brothers and sisters who are sick;
grant that all who are oppressed by pain, distress or other afflictions
may know that they are chosen
among those proclaimed blessed
and are united to Christ
in his suffering for the salvation of the world.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, you Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.

Lessons from Babe Ruth

In his EWTN homily for the Conversion of St. Paul on Wednesday, Fr. Joseph Mary MFVA, read a 1948 letter written by Babe Ruth shortly before his death. It is a touching letter, and deserves to be read more widely. The full letter is available online at the Catholic Resource Education Center, but here’s a brief excerpt.

I strayed from the church, but don't think I forgot my religious training. I just overlooked it. I prayed often and hard, but like many irrepressible young fellows, the swift tempo of living shoved religion into the background.

So what good was all the hard work and ceaseless interest of the Brothers, people would argue? You can't make kids religious, they say, because it just won't take. Send kids to Sunday School and they too often end up hating it and the church.

Don't you believe it. As far as I'm concerned, and I think as far as most kids go, once religion sinks in, it stays there—deep down. The lads who get religious training, get it where it counts—in the roots. They may fail it, but it never fails them. When the score is against them, or they get a bum pitch, that unfailing Something inside will be there to draw on. I've seen it with kids. I know from the letters they write me. The more I think of it, the more important I feel it is to give kids "the works" as far as religion is concerned. They'll never want to be holy—they'll act like tough monkeys in contrast, but somewhere inside will be a solid little chapel. It may get dusty from neglect, but the time will come when the door will be opened with much relief. But the kids can't take it, if we don't give it to them.

An Old Dog in January

The almost always colorful James Lileks writes in Wednesday's Bleat about his morose day. I can relate to what he's saying - the moroseness, the paternal anxiety, the progressively enfeebled dog. I get it.

January in Ohio is no fun either. The days are gray, and even when the air isn't frigid, there's a bite in the wind. We've pretty much avoided (as if we had anything to do with it!) snow so far this winter, but that's supposed to change soon. I can only hope that the new tires on my Focus help it handle a little more deftly than a toboggan, which is what it was like driving in snow last year.

Adding to the gaiety of the month is the great sugar crash of the holidays and knowing that the next holiday doesn't come round until April (unless you're a government worker), and that's Good Friday. There's not a whole lot of celebrating going on that day - the celebration is two days later on Easter Sunday. Until then, it's a long slog of five-day work weeks, sitting hour upon hour in front of my computer in my gray cubicle in a brick building under a gray Ohio sky.

Lileks writes of how he starts to fear the worst when his daughter's bus is twenty minutes late. She is his only child, so maybe his anxiety is heightened by the fact that he doesn't have any spares. On the other hand, with more children, maybe I get that many more opportunities to let my fears gnaw at me. Mostly though, my fears lock onto my dear wife, who drives our van like it's a formula race car (I exaggerate, but only a little). She has an excellent driving record, but whenever she's late in arriving somewhere or driving in bad whether, the spectre of horror enters my imagination. What would I do if I had to raise these kids without her? The power of sin is strong in me - even when I'm worrying about the safety of a loved one, I somehow manage to make it all about me. So I say a prayer and try, in vain, to put it out of my mind.

Finally, there is the dog. Toby is not the close friend and collaborator that Jasper is to Mr. Lileks. Yet I am quite fond of him, and it pains me to see him struggle with the steps and the linoleum. When we go out, he has to negotiate a step down from the kitchen to the mud room. He long ago lost the ability to make the transition with grace. Now, he has to start his run a step or two away, and if anything enters his trajectory, he's running into it head first. He's plowed into my legs full-bore many times after I've inadvertently stepped into his path.

We have gates on the deck to keep the dogs (we have two) from accidentally (accidentally to us, intentionally to them) getting out and running loose around the neighborhood. When they need to relieve themselves, we hook a cable to the collar and let them off the deck individually, then come back later to unhook the cable and let them back onto the deck. The deck has two steps down to the ground. Yesterday, when I went to bring Toby in, he was waiting for me on the second step. I opened the gate, and he tried unsuccessfully to climb the one step to the deck. He had to go back down to the ground, two paces back, and make a run at it.

It makes me wonder how many years the old dog has left in him.

I know there will be sunny days between today and Good Friday, but this week it's all gray. And I know that my wife and kids have guardian angels aplenty, such that the probability of serious incident is small. And I know that the life span of a lab mutt is about twelve years, and Toby is pushing eleven. Still, these things eat at a person. That much, at least, I know that I have in common with James Lileks.

Ordinary Time

I mentioned to my kids yesterday that the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord was the last day of Christmas and that Ordinary Time began today. My two oldest, both of whom earned high honors on the high school honor roll last quarter, both asked if that meant we gained or lost an hour.

Sigh.

Apostle or Presbyter?

Michael Barber, writing over at The Sacred Page, has posted a compelling argument that the author of the fourth gospel was the Apostle John. Most of us have always assumed that the Evangelist and the Apostle were one and the same, but many modern "scripture scholars" have turned critical (and doubtful) eyes upon the authors of many of the books contained in the Bible.

Barber is confident that he is correct in attributing authorship to the Apostle (under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, of course), and he ends with a strongly worded conclusion.

In conclusion, I want to say that, at first blush, it would seem that the "academically responsible" approach would be to remain noncommittal about Johannine authorship. However, I'm coming to the conclusion that the opposite is true. Hedging on Johannine authorship seems to betray an unwillingness to acknowledge the coherence of the early testimony with the internal evidence.

One wonders if such reluctance is motivated by other concerns. Clearly, asserting that someone like the rich young ruler is the author of the Fourth Gospel seems to stretch the limits of credulity. Rather, it would seem the unanimous patristic witness was reliable when it held that the Gospel the manuscripts all call "The Gospel According to John" was written by, well... er, John.

Who are these "scholars" who "betray an unwillingness to acknowledge the coherence of the early testimony with internal evidence?" In Jesus of Nazareth, From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration (Doubleday 2007), Pope Benedict XVI seems to stake out a postion ("I entirely concur . . .") that draws a distinction between the Apostle John and another John, the Presbyter, who wrote the Gospel.

. . . in Ephesus there was something like a Johannine school, which traced its origins to Jesus' favorite disciple himself, but in which certain "Presbyter John" presided as the utimate authority. This "presbyter" John appears as the sender and author of the Second and Third Letters of John (in each case in the first verse of the first chapter) simply under the title "the presbyter" (without reference to the name John). He is evidently not the same as the Apostle, which means that here in the canonical text we encounter expressly the mysterious figure of the presbyter. He must have been closely connected with the Apostle; perhaps he had even been acquainted with Jesus himself. After the death of the Apostle, he was identified wholly as the bearer of the latter's heritage, and in the collective memory, the two figures were increasingly fused. At any rate, there seem to be grounds for ascribing to "Presbyter John" an essential role in the definitive shaping of the Gospel, though he must always have regarded himself as the trustee of the tradition he had received from the son of Zebedee.

I entirely concur with the conclusion that Peter Stuhlmacher has drawn from the above data. He holds "that the contents of the Gospel go back to the disciple whom Jesus (especially) loved. The presbyter understood himself as his transmitter and mouthpiece" (Biblische Theologie, II, p. 206). In a similar vein Stuhlmacher cites E. Ruckstuhl and P. Dschullnigg to the effect that "the author of the Gospel of John is, as it were, the literary executor of the favorite disciple" (ibid., p. 207).

For Your Sake God Has Become Man

The Office of Readings for Christmas Eve features a selection from a sermon by Saint Augustine. Here are the first two paragraphs:

Awake, mankind! For your sake God has become man. Awake, you who sleep, rise up from the dead, and Christ will enlighten you. I tell you again: for your sake, God became man.

You would have suffered eternal death, had he not been born in time. Never would you have been freed from sinful flesh, had he not taken on himself the likeness of sinful flesh. You would have suffered everlasting unhappiness, had it not been for this mercy. You would never have returned to life, had he not shared your death. You would have been lost if he had not hastened ‘to your aid. You would have perished, had he not come.

How fortunate we are that God did not leave us to our fallen fate! But clearly, it seems to me, the belief in this truth has vast implications for our whole outlook on life. What would be the implications of being consigned by Original Sin to our sinful flesh without redemption? As Christians, our relationship with God is radically different from those who do not accept the divinity of Christ and his redeeming sacrifice. I'm thinking primarily of Jews and Moslems, who, like Christians, believe in the one God.

At Christmas time, we celebrate the fact that the Son of God took on a human nature and entered the world as one of us so that we might receive the sanctifying grace lost by our first parents. He entered the world as a helpless infant, just as any other man would. On this blessed Christmas Day, let us celebrate our common humanity with Christ and all of God's children.

Merry Christmas!

Outside My Window

The short reading selected by the editors of Magnificat for today’s (December 12, Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe) morning prayer was from the Song of Songs. It speaks of the end of winter and the appearance of flowers.

He says to me,
“Arise my beloved, my beautiful,
and come!
For see, the winter is past,
the rains are over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth.”
(Song of Songs 2:10-12)

Maybe the imagery invoked by the passage is appropriate for the Third Week of Advent. But this is the second week of December. The first day of winter is just over a week away. Here in Ohio, the temperatures have failed to climb above freezing for the last several days, and, although warmer temperatures are coming, the forecast is for rain.

I found it difficult to read without noting the contrast with conditions outside my window.

The Clay and the Potter

On the First Sunday of Advent this year (Cycle B), the Lectionary had us read a passage from chapters 63 and 64 of the Book of Isaiah. That’s in the post-exile, messianic part of the book. The last line of the selected passage reads,

Yet, O LORD, you are our father; we are the clay and you the potter: we are all the work of your hands.

In the New American Bible, this is Isaiah 64:7. In my New International Version and my Revised Standard Version, this is 64:8. The difference appears to be in where to end chapter 63 and start chapter 64. Silly me! I had thought that the chapters and verses were standardized by St. Jerome in the fourth century.

But I digress from what I thought was interesting.

On Friday of the First Week of Advent, the Lectionary directed us to an earlier chapter of Isaiah, where the prophet is leveling his indictment against Israel, describing how she has been unfaithful to the covenant. The passage used at mass begins with verse 17 of chapter 29, but the verse immediately before it draws an interesting contrast to the selection from the previous Sunday:

Your perversity is as though the potter were taken to be the clay: As though what is made should say of its maker, “He did not make me!” Or the vessel should say of the potter, “He does not understand.” (Is 29:16)

Which chapter, 29 or 64, more closely reflects the prevailing attitude of our culture today? Are we clay that acknowledges the potter and are willing to be worked into a useful vessel, or do we think that we can shape the potter to our desires? Israel had to be conquered and sent into exile to move from the hubris of Is 29:16 to the humility of Is 64:7/8. I pray that we might respond to a more gentle correction, even as I doubt that anything short of extreme will get our attention.

Joy and Sorrow

For those who pray the Rosary, Mondays typically bring meditation on the joyful mysteries. During my Monday morning reflections lately, I can’t help but notice the proximity in the mysteries of joy and sorrow. At least two of the joyful mysteries of the Rosary are closely related to two of the Seven Sorrows of Mary.

The fourth joyful mystery is the Presentation, Recounted in the second chapter of Luke’s Gospel, Mary and Joseph took the infant Jesus to the Temple, in accordance with the Mosaic Law. Yet the joy of the Presentation is tempered by the encounter with Simeon: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:34-35) This is the first of Mary’s seven sorrows.

The fifth joyful mystery is the finding of Jesus in the Temple. This scene also comes from the second chapter of Luke, when Jesus is twelve years old. Before he was found, however, he was lost. Mary and Joseph did not find him until the third day. The search for the lost Jesus is the third of Mary’s seven sorrows.

Is there something to be learned about life here? Can we conclude from this that joy and sorrow often walk hand-in-hand?

I thought of this again while attending mass on Thanksgiving Day. The month of November starts with All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Throughout the month, our parish has a book prominently located within the sanctuary with a lit vigil candle. The book lists members of the parish who have died during the preceding year. Even on the day set aside to give thanks for God’s blessings, we were reminded that some were no longer with us. We can hope that they are in heaven, or at least being cleansed in purgatory with heaven as their ultimate destination, but we can’t know with certainty. At any rate, we are deprived of their company in this life.

Must every moment of joy be touched with a hint of sorrow?

Courtly, Theological, and Poetic

In his sermon for the Solemnity of Christ the King, Fr. Robert Barron previews some of the prayers in the new English translation of the Roman Missal, which goes into effect this coming Sunday. He ties it all together by noting that the language is more courtly – one would never use street language in a royal court. It is also, he says, more theologically dense and poetic.

After hearing the translation that we’ve been using for all of my adult life, and then hearing the new translation, both supposedly from the same Latin source, it is hard for me not to feel as though somebody cheated me out of my liturgical heritage!

The Cost of a Family

Just the other night, my dear wife turned to me in exasperation, asking, “Where is all of our money going?” (She might not have used those exact words, but you get the drift.” Like the answer to a prayer, the United States Department of Agriculture provided the reason way back on June 9. I just happened to hear about it on the radio this morning.

The USDA estimates that a middle-income family can expect to spend about $227K over the next 17 years on a child born today. The government agency even provides a nifty little calculator, allowing you to estimate how much you spend each year for your little ones. We have seven kids – the calculator only allows for six. However, the average cost comes out very close to $10K per child per year. You can do the math for seven kids.

Can there be any doubt that, in the view of the United States government, children are a tremendous financial drain? The effect of a report like this is to discourage young couples from embarking on the adventure of parenthood.

Stuck on Seven

Every other year, the Lectionary walks Catholics through St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans during the weekday masses (weeks 28 through 31 of Ordinary Time). Those who only attend mass on Sunday take a trip through Romans every third year, in Cycle A (2011 is a Cycle A year). The Sunday readings from Romans occur from the 9th to the 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time.

When the Lectionary takes us through Romans, I try to follow along. I think I do a pretty good job of tracing Paul’s logic through the first six chapters, but I always seem to miss the turn at Chapter seven. I have to back up and re-read, and back up and re-read, and back up and re-read yet again before I start to think that maybe I’m reading it correctly. By correctly, I mean according to the Catholic rules that say it has to fit in with everything else.

Anyhow, because I get hung up on Chapter seven, I tend to fall behind when the rest of the Church moves on. Friday of Week 30 is in Chapter nine (or would be, if it weren’t superseded this year by the Feast of Sts. Simon and Jude), and Saturday is in Chapter eleven. I am truly thankful for the Church’s guidance, but I need to get caught up. I hope I don’t have to read any of Chapters eight through eleven more than twice!

Tax Plans

Herman Cain is enjoying some popularity as a Republican contender for the presidency of the United States. His big idea is a 9-9-9 tax plan. Huntsman, Romney, Perry, and all the others have a tax plan. There’s only one problem: the President doesn’t determine tax policy. He can suggest what he wants to Congress, but the rates and types of taxes that can be collected (legally) are out of his hands. The centerpiece of Cain’s campaign to win the job is something that’s not in the job description.

That’s not to say that the President can’t do anything to affect the economy of the nation. All of the bureaucratic agencies that interpret legislation to impose regulations on businesses and individuals across the country are part of the Executive Branch. The President can negotiate trade agreements (subject to Congressional approval) that impacts imports and exports. Plus, of course, all of those federal government offices spend money, and reducing discretionary spending would reduce the amount of tax revenue necessary to balance the budget (or, more likely, reduce the size of the budget deficit).

So when do the Republican candidates get a chance to shoot themselves in the feet with their foreign policy proposals?

A Fifth Question

The gospel for the 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle A) is the parable of the wedding feast from Matthew 22. The gospel has a short form, verses 1-10, and a long form, which add verses 11-14. Our priest this morning chose the short form, and in his homily, he focused on four questions asked when an invitation is received: the who, what, when, and where. The short form of his homily is that our king, God, invites each and every one of us to communion with him right here and right now.

It all seems so easy - too easy, actually. After all, my name is on the guest list, and I'm right here, and it's right now. If all I have to do is accept the invitation, then I should be golden. But in the long form of the gospel, verses 11-14, some of those who showed up, even though they were invited, were kicked out because they were improperly attired. And although Father covered four standard questions in his homily, a fifth begs to be asked. How?

Clearly, there's more to it than just being me, right here, right now, and saying, "I accept."

Sleepy Football Friday

Friday night in these parts means one thing: high school football. Okay, I'll make a small concession. There is a shrinking group of elderly folks for whom every Friday means BINGO. I worked Friday night BINGO for a while, back before babies five, six, and seven. The Friday night BINGO attendance has been in steady decline for the last ten years.

This Friday night started a little unusually, with a call from my mother-in-law. She wanted to invite her daughter, my lovely wife, to see a movie. This happens less often than a blue moon. Unfortunately, my wife's mom must have forgotten that her grandson plays on the football team, and two (three if you count their cousin) of her granddaughters play in the marching band, which places their dad (that would be me) firmly in the stands watching, while their mom stays home with the youngest children. And so, my wife politely demurred.

Amy really only stays home with Michael and Erin. Catherine is in sixth grade and has discovered the social aspect of going to football games to hang out with her classmates and meet other students from the opposing schools. She promises me that she doesn't talk to the boys. And then there's Jamie, the three-year-old. She looks forward to attending the football game each week, where she cries for popcorn, suckers, and whatever other concession stand confections she sees in the hands of other children. I can usually put her off until half-time.

This week was an away game. Jamie nodded off on the drive there, and the last few minutes before arriving at St. Henry, Catherine and I spent trying to keep Jamie awake. Our team played well and brought home a 34-7 victory, taking their record to 5-2, with good chances for post-season play. The season is going well for them, but the players are starting to feel a little beat-up. Jamie, on the other hand, didn't make it to the end of the game. As the time ran out in the fourth quarter, I carried a sleeping bundle in a blanket to the car for the drive home.

Don John and Lepanto

During my morning rosary run today, I was very much aware that today is the Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary. More to the point, I was aware that the Memorial was established in thanksgiving for victory over the Ottoman Turks at the Battle of Lepanto in 1571. The rosary was ardently prayed before (and during, by those not engaged) the battle, and the victory by the Holy League was attributed to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

In a spare moment this morning, I reread Chesterton’s Lepanto. It is stirring verse, celebrating the courage of Don John of Austria, at a time when other western leaders couldn’t be bothered to come to the defense of Christendom. 440 years ago, at the age of 24, Don John led a hastily-assembled fleet into battle and, in the process, saved western civilization. He is said to have told his men, “There is no paradise for cowards.”

Here I am, about to turn 42, raising my family in a bucolic village in fly-over country. What am I doing to save western civilization from all the threats that it faces in the modern world? I know God doesn’t call us all to be a Don John. I know about the Little Way of St. Therese, and how some of us are just called to be little purple flowers in God’s garden.

And yet, there’s always the whisper of a doubt in the back of my mind that maybe I was (or am) called to something more and my own laziness or cowardice got in the way.

To all of those who clearly have not been cowed, and who have taken positions on the front line, my hat is off to you. You have my respect, my admiration, and my prayers.

Ennui, Apathy, Acedia

My spiritual life is not being lived at the level it should be. I know that’s always going to be true – even a high-functioning mystic (and that’s definitely not me!) is gong to feel spiritually incomplete on this side of the beatific vision (i.e., the presence of God enjoyed by the holy souls in heaven). But I’ve been occupying a place lower than I should reasonably expect.

I have to admit that it’s largely my own fault. Today’s gospel is about perseverance in prayer. I, however, am easily deterred. I’ve neglected the Liturgy of the Hours (not that it’s required, for lay people), and it’s been a long while since I’ve made a holy hour. I make excuses for the lapses, usually claiming that other responsibilities demand my attention. The liturgy has not been a refuge. I’ve attended, but entering fully into the mystery has eluded me. The only prayer that I can admit to is the rosary, silently recited on a finger ring while running.

Spontaneous prayer has never been a strong suit of mine. When I try to express my prayers in words, two things happen: First, I quickly run out of words and start repeating myself with words that are completely inadequate to begin with. Second, I find myself having to take back the literal meaning of the words themselves. My prayers end up being a vague uplifting of spirit and intentions.

Sometimes, that feels entirely inadequate. My daughter was in the hospital recently. I knew that I should pray for her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do any more than the vague lifting of intentions. I can only guess that this is what St. Paul was getting at when he wrote, “we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.” (Rom 8:26)

That’s not the only reason for my spiritual listlessness. I follow the headlines in the Catholic press, but the only stories that seem to be new are the scandalous ones. Every message from the pope or one of the bishops just seems to be a repetition of what’s been said before. No matter how inspirational the words might be, my reaction lately is an indifferent shrug. The need to reject relativism? Already heard it. A new initiative encouraging families to put Christ in the center? Well, duh!

In short, what I feel is at variance with what I know. I know that what is needed is perseverance. I know that the liturgy is the work of the church and that the Eucharistic celebration makes present the entire Paschal Mystery. I know that reality doesn’t depend on my feelings or on my perception of it. I know that dryness happens, and prayer shapes the soul even then. I know these things, but not feeling the fire is a real drag.

Advice to Timothy

According to Magnificat, the Lectionary gives options for today’s first reading: “Today, the Gospel of the memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows is obligatory. However, for the first reading and the psalm, one can choose between the texts fo the Thrusday of the Twenty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time or those of the memorial.” I had two observation upon reading the selection from the first Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (1 Timothy 4:12-16).

First, what a wonderful reference to the sacrament of Confirmation: “Let no one have contempt for your youth, but set an example for those who believe, in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity. Until I arrive, attend to the reading, exhortation, and teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was conferred on you through the prophetic word with the imposition of hands by the presbyterate.”

The second requires a little background. We’ve got a fellow in our men’s group who is of the faith alone, once saved, always saved variety. Paul advises Timothy, “Attend to yourself and to your teaching; persevere in both tasks, for by doing so you will save both yourself and those who listen to you.” If Timothy’s salvation was assured and could not be lost, then why is Paul telling him that he will save himself by perseverance?

Centurions and Widows

It’s a fairly common practice, when meditating upon the scriptures, to put oneself in the story. In some narrative passages, there a multiple characters with whom we are invited to identify.

Monday’s gospel reading (Luke 7:1-10) was the healing of the Centurion’s servant. The Centurion, a gentile, recognizes the power and authority of Jesus, and makes profound statements of humility and faith: “I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof . . . but say the word and let my servant be healed.” We echo these words at every mass when we say before receiving communion, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” [The words of the response will be changed in the new translation of the missal to further highlight the relation to the scripture passage in Luke.] In our paraphrase of the Centurion, we take on the role of both him and his servant.

The same can be said of Tuesday’s gospel (Luke 7:11-17), in which Jesus brings back to life the dead son of the widow of Nain. We are invited to see ourselves as both the widow, upon whom Christ has compassion, and the son, whose life He restores.

The Centurion, in his faith approached Christ through the elders of the Jews. We often approach Christ in the sacraments through the mediation of His Church. The widow, weeping for her dead son, is like the Church, weeping over the spiritual death of her children brought on by sin.

He wants us to be alive in the Spirit and not dead in sin. Reconciliation and new life await us in the sacraments. The only thing that He asks of us is humility and faith.

Human Energy

There are occasional signs that I’ve drunk deeply from the well of popular science fiction. Today, for instance, I received a magazine in the mail. On the back cover was an advertisement, the left half of which was a picture of an attractive, middle-aged Asian woman. On the right, in progressively large text, were the words, “The world needs more than oil.” Below this statement, in a hand-stamp styling were the words “We agree” and two signatures. Back on the left, near the bottom of the Asian woman’s photo, was an oil company logo and “Human Energy ®.”

“Oh my God!” I thought. “They’re sticking people in stasis pods and harvesting them for electricity just like in The Matrix!”

Ha! That was just some silly movie. They couldn’t really do that, could they?

[Note: the ad is really promoting natural gas, but it’s necessary to read all the fine print to find that out. I’m no marketing genius, but this strikes me as a really lousy advertisement. The agency that designed the ad should be fired, and whoever approved it should be demoted.]

[Further note: I showed the ad to my 17-year old son, who’s never seen The Matrix. He said that it made him think of a bunch of Chinese folks pedaling away on stationary bikes to generate electricity.]

Casual Sundays

There’s a stereotypical view out there that anyone who complains about the way people dress for mass is either a grumpy old fogey or a sexually repressed prude. I’ve come to accept that my views on proper church attire probably make me a fogey.

Then came some affirmation of my view from a surprising source: ABC News! If even ABC News is noticing that Catholics are really dressing poorly for worship, then there must really be a problem!

Go read the story for yourself, and watch the video!

My hope is that, with the fundraising drive of our parish Church to install air conditioning, grown men won’t feel the need to wear short pants and beach shoes to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass next summer.

25 Years

I was chatting with my older sister this weekend. She related how, when she was first entering the work force, she was told not to count on Social Security being around when she reached retirement age. That was more than 25 years ago. I can’t remember anybody in my generation ever thinking anything other than that Social Security would go bust before we ever got a chance to claim the benefits for which we were allegedly paying into the system. We all knew that our contributions were being spent, and the only thing in the “lockbox” was a stack of IOUs.

My point is that we’ve known for at least 25 years that we had a problem. It’s not exactly true that we’ve done nothing. We’ve invented Individual Retirement Accounts (IRAs) and 401k plans. But at the same time, we’ve left the charade that is Social Security go unreformed.

Racing for the Finish

I heard something recently, I think it was over the television, that left me shaking my head, muttering, “I don’t think so.” The basic thrust of what I heard was that the person wanted to be racing for the finish late in life.

Sure, it sounds life a fine sentiment. Make a strong finish! But my experience running in the 5K tour this summer has me thinking that I’d rather not spend my last years that way.

Don’t get me wrong! I’ve been running pretty well this year. I’ve been able to mix long distance, middle distance, and speed work into my training schedule, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really bad workout. My race times have been great – I haven’t been over 20 minutes since early June. But in nearly every race that I’ve run, the third mile has been my slowest, taking all the effort that I could muster just to keep running. I cross the finish line dripping with sweat, gasping for breath, barely able to keep from collapsing.

I’d really rather not spend the last third of my life the way that I spend the last mile of a 3.1 mile race.

This Year's Sophomores

After a hiatus of a couple of years, I am returning to the classroom this year as a high school catechist. In the fall session, I will have one of three classes of sophomores preparing for Confirmation. Our first session falls on Sunday, September 11 – the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks that changed the world for so many of us. I was a little stunned to realize that this year’s sophomores would have been 5 or 6 years old on that fateful day.

Clothe Yourself

The reading selected by Magnificat for Morning Prayer on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary is from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians:

That which is corruptible must clothe itself with incorruptibility, and that which is mortal must clothe itself with immortality. And when this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility and this which is mortal clothes itself with immortality, then the word that is written shall come about: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Cor 15:53-54)

I would like to make two quick observations.

First, this sounds awfully Lutheran, in the snow-covered dung sense. However, we have to note that this passage comes near the end of a fairly long letter. These words can’t just be pulled out and interpreted in isolation from the previous chapters. If I were more energetic, I would read the whole thing, trying to follow Paul’s train of thought (maybe a useful exercise for after dinner).

Second, I often say a prayer to the Blessed Virgin when I am about to receive Communion. I ask her to cover me with her mantle, and make me presentable to her Son. It is an acknowledgement of my unworthiness to receive the gift that I am about to receive, as well as of her intermediary role as the Mother of the Redeemer.

Liturgical Sins

Solomon's wisdom failed him in Chapter 11 of 1 Kings. His love for his seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines turned his heart after other gods. Even from the beginning of his reign, he "sacrificed and burnt incense at the high places." (1 Kings 3:3)

A note in my Ignatius Bible asserts that Solomon's failing is a warning against sexual excess. It occurs to me, however, that his sin follows a pattern of liturgical aberration. After all, wasn't King Saul's first offence against God a liturgical violation in 1 Samuel 13, when he sacrificed burnt offerings on his own rather than waiting for Samuel? Even before that, in Numbers 16, the rebellion of Korah was essentially liturgical. The death of Uzzah in 2 Samuel 6 was due to a liturgical over-step.

Many of the sins of the kings of Israel and Judah could be seen as liturgical in nature. It is not always the case that they turned completely away from the one true God to false gods. Sometimes it was that they tried to worship God in the wrong way, after the fashion of the local pagans. Even in the time of Christ, the problem with the Samaritans was not that they didn't worship God, but that they didn't do it the way He set up, but rather in the way that they thought best (see John 4).

So yes, I take it seriously when I see the liturgy abused, even in small ways. Only the Church, and not individual priests or "liturgists" has the authority to change the rites, and the rites of the Roman liturgy will indeed be changing after the end of this liturgical year. Meanwhile, I can only hope that the Creed, which has been strangely absent from the Sunday masses at my parish, finds it's way back to its proper place.

Wisdom Is Not Enough

At mass this morning, we heard of how a youthful Solomon, on becoming king, asked God for "an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong." (1 Kings 3:9) This request pleased God: "I do as you requested. I give you a heart so wise and understanding that there has never been anyone like you up to now, and after you there will come no one to equal you." (1 Kings 3:12)

A chapter later in 1 Kings, we learn more: "And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding beyond measure, and largeness of mind like the sand on the seashore, so that Solomon's wisdom surpassed the wisdom of all the people of the east, and all the wisdom of Egypt. For he was wiser than all other men, . . . And men came from all peoples to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and from all the kings of the earth, who had heard of his wisdom." (1 Kings 4:29-31,34)

Solomon received the gift of a wise and understanding heart from God, and he became famous for this gift. So it has always amazed me that, in spite of all of his wisdom, we find that, in the end, Solomon's judgment failed him. "Now King Solomon loved many foreign women . . . from the nations concerning which the Lord had said to the people of Israel, 'You shall not enter into marriage with them, neither shall they with you, for surely they will turn away your heart after their gods'; Solomon clung to these in love. He had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines; and his wives turned away his heart. For when Solomon was old his wives turned away his heart after other gods, and his heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father." (1 Kings 11:1, 2-4)

Wisdom and understanding are not enough. It is not sufficient just to know right from wrong, it is also necessary to do it, and we must be careful to guard against the influence of the things that might turn us away from God.

NFP Ain't Easy

Pope Paul Vi released his encyclical Humanae Vitae (On Human Life) on July 25, 1968. In commemoration of that date, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has established July 24-30 as Natural Family Planning (NFP) Awareness Week. The Catholic practice of NFP typically finds it’s foundation in paragraph 16 of Humanae Vitae:

If, then, there are serious motives to space out births, which derive from the physical or psychological conditions of husband and wife, or from external conditions, the Church teaches that it is then licit to take into account the natural rhythms immanent in the generative functions, for the use of marriage in the infecund periods only, and in this way to regulate birth without offending the moral principles which have been recalled earlier.

As a married Catholic struggling to be faithful to the teaching authority of the Church, I have to say that NFP ain’t easy. Those responsible for promoting the practice often point to some statistics that I think might be a little misleading.

First is the claim that the divorce rate among those who practice NFP is remarkably lower than the national average. It is implied that this is so because of NFP. Baloney! It’s because the factors that lead a couple to practice NFP are also likely to be same factors that lead a couple to view marriage as indissoluble. In other words, rather than long and stable marriages being caused by NFP, both long marriages and NFP use are caused by faithfulness to the Magisterium. If a couple is faithful to Church teaching, they will enter into marriage understanding it to be a life-long union. Similarly, they will reject contraception and turn to NFP for regulating the size of their family.

Another common claim is that NFP requires the couple to abstain from sex during only one week of the woman’s cycle. The window of opportunity includes the pre-menstrual and menstrual period. The small window of abstinence requires regular and accurate readings of base temperature, mucus, and cervix. Any illness or disruption in sleep patterns (common occurrences in a house full of kids) can affect the readings. These cause the window of abstinence to grow larger. In addition, the desire for intimacy seems to peak during ovulation, right in the middle of the abstinence window.

In our experience, the advertised one week of abstinence to three weeks of opportunity ends up being inverted. We end up with one week each month during which it is “safe” to be intimate. That one-week window ends up getting further reduced as a result of sharing the house with seven kids. Throw in the absence of the ovulation hormones and pheromones, and you have a scenario that is definitely less than optimal.

The options are to either (a) abandon ourselves to passion with the full knowledge that we are fertile and will probably end up with another little Hilgefort in diapers, (b) violate Church teaching and conscience and, in the process, corrupt the very act by which we seek to strengthen our marriage, or (c) exercise restraint and responsibility.

Nobody ever said that obedience was easy.

Nabbish

I await with great delight the first translation of the Novus Ordo Mass into English. The bland, Scripture-muffling, colorless, odorless, gaseous paraphrase American Catholics have had for forty years often was not a translation at all, nor even a paraphrase into English. It was a paraphrase into Nabbish, the secret official language of the New American Bible.

With an opening paragraph like that, how could I not go on to read the whole thing? That’s from an opinion piece (“A Bumping Boxcar Language”) in the June/July issue of First Things. I’d provide a link if it weren’t for the subscription firewall.

The whole bit was fun to read, as it pointed to all of the failings of the NAB translation of the Bible that has been used for the English translation of the mass. Unfortunately (and please correct me if I’m wrong), the new translation of the missal applies to the prayers and responses. The Lectionary readings will still be based on the NAB.

I’d also like to point out that American Catholics aren’t alone in their language woes. Based on my casual reading, Nabbish, as described by Anthony Esolen in his First Things rant, looks to be a close relative of Nivish, the secret official language of the New International Version.

Christian Men

I really enjoyed this passage from an Owen Strachan post, Men, Temptation, and the Gospel, that appears to argue that Christian men need to embrace the good aspects of manliness and are empowered to overcome the negative aspects:

When God gets a hold of a man, he doesn’t merely tinker with him, making him cuss less and smile more. When God saves a man, he looses him to destroy sin and bless his family, church, and society. Christian men are not normal men who sleep less on Sunday and wear Dockers with no creases. Christian men are transformed men, other-worldly men, residents of a new kingdom, servants of a great king…

It’s much to easy to grow complacent and forget what we men are called to.

(H/T: Joe Carter)

Consecration to Jesus through Mary

Fourteen year ago yesterday, on the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel in 1997, my wife and I consecrated ourselves to Jesus through Mary, according to the formula of St. Louis de Montfort. The parish that we were members of at the time hosted the four-week preparation program, and on the last day we made the consecration and were invested in the brown scapular. Pope John Paul II was a big fan of St. Louis de Montfort, and even, so I am told, took his papal motto, Totus Tuus, from de Montfort’s defining work, True Devotion.

I’ve certainly not always maintained the pious devotion that I once had, but I think that I’ve grown in other ways. I remain a work in progress. I need to somehow recover some measure of the enthusiasm (and practice!) that I had those many (and not so many!) years ago.

The Consecration Prayer of St. Louis de Montfort follows.

Act of Consecration

Eternal and Incarnate Wisdom, most lovable and adorable Jesus, true God and true man, only Son of the eternal Father and of Mary always virgin, I adore you profoundly, dwelling in the splendour of your Father from all eternity and in the virginal womb of Mary, your most worthy Mother, at the time of your incarnation.

I thank you for having emptied yourself in assuming the condition of a slave to set me free from the cruel slavery of the evil one.

I praise and glorify you for having willingly chosen to obey Mary, your holy Mother, in all things, so that through her I may be your faithful slave of love.

But I must confess that I have not kept the vows and promises which I made you you so solemnly at my baptism. I have not fulfilled my obligations, and I do not deserve to be called you child or even your loving slave.

Since I cannot lay claim to anything except what merits your rejection and displeasure, I dare no longer approach the holiness of your majesty on my own. That is why I turn to the intercession and the mercy of your holy Mother, whom you yourself have given me to mediate with you. Through her I hope to obtain from you contrition and pardon for my sins, and that Wisdom whom I desire to dwell in me always.

I turn to you, then, Mary immaculate, living tabernacle of God. The eternal Wisdom, hidden in you, willed to receive the adoration of both men and angels.

I greet you as Queen of heaven and earth. All that is under God has been made subject to your sovereignty.

I greet you as Queen of heaven and earth. All that is under God has been made subject to your sovereignty.

I call upon you as the unfailing refuge of sinners. In your mercy you have never forsaken anyone.

Grant my desire for divine Wisdom and, in support of my petition, accept the promises and the offering of myself which I now make, conscious of my unworthiness.

I, and unfaithful sinner, renew and ratify today through you my baptismal promises. I renounce for ever Satan, his empty promises and his evil designs, and I give myself completely to Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Wisdom, to carry my cross after him for the rest of my life, and to be more faithful to him than I have been till now.

This day, with the whole courts of heaven as witness, I choose you, Mary, as my Mother and Queen. I surrender and consecrate myself to you, body and soul, with all that I possess, both spiritual and material, even including the spiritual value of all my actions, past, present, and to come. I give you the full right to tdispose of me and all that belongs to me, without any reservation, in whatever way you please, for the greater glory of God in time and throughout eternity.

Accept, gracious Virgin, this little offering of my slavery to honour and imitate that obedience which the eternal Wisdom willingly chose to have towards you, his Mother. I wish to acknowledge the authority which both of you have over this little worm and pitiful sinner. By it I wish also to thank God for the privileges bestowed on you by the Blessed Trinity. I solemnly declare that for the future I will try to honour and obey you in all things as your true slave of love.

O admirable Mother, present me to your dear Son as his slave now and for always, so that he who redeemed me through you, will now receive me through you.

Mother of mercy, grant me the favour of obtaining the true Wisdom of God, and so make me one of those whom you love, teach and guide, whom you nourish and protect as your children and slaves.

Virgin most faithful, make me in everything so committed a disciple, imitator, and slave of Jesus, your Son, the Incarnate Wisdom, that I may become, through your intercession and example, fully mature with the fullness which Jesus possessed on earth, and with the fullness of his glory in heaven. Amen.

Generation X and Divorce

There was a heart-breaking essay recently in the Wall Street Journal that purported to speak for my generation. As a baby of 1969, I fall within what is commonly referred to as “Generation X.” The WSJ essay paints us Gen-X-ers as being children of divorce who are determined not to let that fate fall upon our own children.

Neither I nor my wife matches the picture presented of our generation (nor, for that matter, do the majority of my Gen-X friends). My parents have been married for over 55 years. My wife’s parents have been married for over 45 years. My wife and I have now been married for over 18 years.

What makes the essay so heart-breaking is that, in spite of the author’s determination to make her marriage last, it still falls apart. Buried and dismissed within the jumble of words is this paragraph:

We also paid no heed to his Catholic parents, who comprised one of the rare
reassuringly unified couples I'd ever met, when they warned us that we should
wait until we were married to live together. As they put it, being pals and
roommates is different from being husband and wife. How bizarrely old-fashioned
and sexist! We didn't need anything so naïve or retro as "marriage." Please. We
were best friends.

Nowhere is she willing to admit that maybe, just maybe, her husband’s parents were right.

Easy Yokes

Today’s gospel contains some of the most comforting words ever uttered: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” (Mt 11:28-30) Who, upon hearing such words, wouldn’t rush to join up?

However, we do ourselves and other potential recruits a disservice if we read these words in isolation, for just a chapter earlier, Jesus was promising his apostles that they would be handed over to courts and scourged in synagogues (Mt 10:17), hated by all (Mt 10:22). He proclaimed that he had come to bring not peace, but the sword (Mt 10:34) and those who did not take up their crosses and follow him were unworthy of him (Mt 10:38).

It is as if we are being told that terrible things are going to be done to us, but we’ll learn to like it, in a masochistic kind of way. I’m pretty sure that’s the wrong way to read it.

Yes, we can expect physical persecution (or at least discomfort and inconvenience). The crosses that followers of Jesus bear are not always unto death. But there is a joy to be found in following His will. It helps to remember that a yoke is never placed on a single ox in isolation. A yoke is used to couple oxen so that they work as a team. When we take on the yoke of Christ, we are uniting ourselves to him. All of our sufferings, works, prayers, and joys are joined to those of Christ, who purifies and magnifies them.

Even so, the cross needs to be re-shouldered daily, and while the yoke is easy and the burden light, the daily life of the Christian is not easy, and even a light burden can feel heavy when it has been carried for a long time. One is reminded of the story of St. Teresa who, having been dumped in the river cried out to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, it is no wonder that you have so few of them.” St. Paul recounted a long list of beatings, shipwrecks, and trials that certainly did not indicate that acceptance of the Lordship of Christ brought with it a life of ease.

We accept that life is hard. We choose the harder life, because that it what Christ calls us to, and there is peace and joy in that.

To Run Is To Be Human

The Independent newspaper of the United Kingdom has a Lifestyle feature (brought to my attention by Drudge), arguing that the Masters of the Universe (i.e., the rich and powerful men who run the world) should avoid public exercise. This was the passage that particularly got my attention:

To run is to be human. It's as natural as sex or sleep and the carefully maintained façade of the politician cannot survive it. The face of a man or woman pushing themselves to run reveals a humanity that can't be hidden as it is in ministerial photoshoots. Don't believe me? Go and stand at mile 24 of a marathon route. The looks in the eyes of the runners are less a window in their souls than conservatories.

Yes, running is very humanizing, especially if you exert yourself to the point of exhaustion. I should be thankful that nobody’s snapping photos of me in the last mile of my distance run.

Compartmentalization

Fr. Dwight Longenecker makes some interesting comments over at his blog regarding male psychology and compartmentalization of personalities by men ordained to the priesthood. In my own experience, I clearly recall spending most of a day with a priest who was quite jocular in his collar and ball cap, but seemed to become a completely different person as soon as he donned his chasuble and vestments. In a way, this is a good thing, as it showed his appreciation of his sacramental role in persona Christi. At the same time, though, the change was a little alarming

At the other extreme is the priest I know who seems to be the same guy at the altar that he is when he’s off-duty and out-of-uniform. With him, there appears to be very little compartmentalization, and therefore no threat of a split personality. In his case, that leads him to occasionally do or say things in a sacramental context that are inappropriate for one who is supposed to be acting in persona Christi.

As Fr. Dwight notes, “What makes it all the more complicated is that the priest really is supposed to ‘grow out of himself and grow up into the full stature of Christ Jesus.’ We really are supposed to fill the vestments and become the ‘alter Christus’ that we are called to be. To do this we have to pretend sometimes. We have to try hard by God’s grace. We stumble and fall and get up again, but what we can’t do is compartmentalize our dark side, deny our wrongdoing and justify our sins. That we lies destruction.”

The ideal is a priest who, while retaining his own personality, has conformed himself to Christ. His personality would be evident even when celebrating the mass (primarily in the homily – everything else is pretty much scripted). As always, we need to remember that what’s good for the priest is good for the laity. We too need to conform our lives to Christ and be the same person on Monday morning and Friday evening that we are on Sunday.

Synoptic Demoniacs

If Wednesday hadn’t been a solemnity, the gospel would have been Matthew 8:28-34. In that passage, Matthew recounts how Jesus, coming into the region of the Gadarenes, cast the demons from two possessed men into a herd of swine, which then destroyed itself by running down a hill and into a lake.

Wait a second! Two demoniacs? I’ve commented before on the parallel passage from Mark 5:1-20. In Mark’s account, there was only one demoniac.

The skeptic would be quick to pick up on this and crow, “Aha! Your gospels contradict each other! How can they possibly be considered reliable? Any religion based on such flimsy texts must be false!”

Well, not necessarily. If you’ll indulge me, I’m about to engage in some wild hypotheticals. I make no claim that any of what follows has any firm basis in anything other than my monkey brain.

First, we don’t know for certain how the individual gospels are related in terms of chronology or dependence. The most popular school of thought seems to be that, of the three synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), Mark was written first and all three borrowed from a mysterious source document known as Q. I’m very skeptical of this, since there doesn’t appear to be any external evidence for the existence of Q. There is a traditional position, which was held by the early Church fathers, that Matthew was the first gospel written, and there are modern scholars who defend Matthew’s priority.

Let’s assume for the moment that Matthew was written first, and that Mark (or Peter, if you believe that Mark was putting quill to paper on Peter’s behalf) had a chance to read it. On reading the tale of the Gadarene demoniacs, he might have said to himself, “Ah yes, I remember that incident, but Matthew left out the most important part! One of those chaps came back and wanted to go with Jesus, but Jesus wanted him to stay behind and share his story. I’ve got to write that down, but if I include both demoniacs, that will just blur the point that I’m trying to make. Therefore, I’m only going to mention the one that I want to focus on.”

Mark doesn’t say in his gospel that there was only one demoniac. He just says that there was this guy who had a really bad case of demonic possession. The difference between Matthew and Mark is a difference of emphasis, with Mark adding details that Matthew lacks in order to highlight the situation of the one possessed man upon whom he wishes to focus.

This makes sense if Matthew wrote his gospel first. If Mark was first, then part of the explanation can still be used, but you would have to assume that the gospels were written independently of one another.

The Hard Sayings

This past Sunday was the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (formerly known as Corpus Christi). The mass that I attended also happened to be the celebration of a 50th wedding anniversary. The coincidence of the two events reminded me of an essay comparing marriage with the Eucharist that I read some fifteen or so years ago.

The gospel reading for Corpus Christi was from John’s Bread of Life Discourse. The sixth chapter of the gospel of John has a heavy influence on Catholic Eucharistic theology. Jesus tells his followers, “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” (John 6:53) This is too much for many of his followers to accept. “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” (John 6:60) Jesus didn’t backpedal or nuance his words; rather, he let go those who rejected them.

Today, we find that the hard teachings – those that so many people are unable to accept – are those that deal with marriage. Jesus, through the Church, teaches that marriage is an indissoluble and exclusive union of one man and one woman. That means that polygamy, polyamory, remarriage after divorce, “open” marriages, and homosexual unions are excluded. The Church teaches that sex is reserved to marriage and must be open to the transmission of life. That means that fornication, adultery, contraception, and direct sterilization are excluded. To many people, these teachings are seen not as affirmations of what marriage is, but rather as prohibitions of behavior that they are unable to see undermines and corrupts marriage.

I’ve seen estimates that as many as 95% of married Catholics ignore Church teaching regarding contraception. The Guttmacher Institute (yes, I’m aware of its connection to Planned Parenthood) asserts that 68% of Catholic women who do not want to become pregnant “use a highly effective method” of contraception and that only 2% of Catholic women practice Natural Family Planning. Polls show that the attitude of young Catholics regarding sex outside of marriage or homosexual “marriage” are badly out of line with what the Church teaches. A 2010 Marist poll found that, among Catholic millenials, 80% believe that fornication is either morally acceptable or not a moral issue. It is as if they have said to themselves, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Rather than leave, though, they just choose to ignore what they believe is too hard to accept.

To them, and to us, Jesus asks, “Do you also want to leave?” (John 6:67) It’s a painful question to be asked, and all too often, the answer, for me at least, is “Of course I do! Life looks so much easier over on the other side, without all the burdens of being moral!” But there’s always the not-so-apparent knowledge that license and pleasure do not, in fact, lead to happiness, and that the yoke of Christ is easy and the burden light. May we always be open to the grace to answer, with Peter, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:68-69)