Rob Long, at one point, utters an aphorism: "How do I know what I think until I see what I write?" This aphorism, more than anything, sums up very handily why I bother with this blog.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
A Blogger's Aphorism
I was listening to a segment of Uncommon Knowledge this morning when I heard something remarkable (and hence, I am going to remark upon it). Guests Mark Steyn and Rob Long were discussing Ronald Reagan with host Peter Robinson. As President, Reagan made substantial hand-written revisions to the speeches that were prepared for him. Before becoming President, Reagan wrote his own speeches, and it is evident in his collection of letters that he devoted considerable thought to developing a coherent philosophical world view.
Rob Long, at one point, utters an aphorism: "How do I know what I think until I see what I write?" This aphorism, more than anything, sums up very handily why I bother with this blog.
Rob Long, at one point, utters an aphorism: "How do I know what I think until I see what I write?" This aphorism, more than anything, sums up very handily why I bother with this blog.
Monday, June 21, 2010
An Island of Western Civilization
It’s always nice to see one of your own views expressed by somebody that lots of other people actually pay attention to. I have, in the past, expressed (even if only to my dear wife) some of the rough similarities between the modern state of Israel and the Crusader Kingdoms of the 12th and 13th centuries. Israel is, as the Crusader Kingdoms were, a relatively small island of western civilization surrounded by a sea of Middle Eastern Islam. The Crusader Kingdoms lasted a few generations before falling to the armies of Saladin. The state of Israel hasn’t been around that long yet.
Ross Douthat pointed to some of those same similarities recently in a column (“Israel and Outremer”) for the New York Times, although he prefers to use the French term Outremer. It was nice to be able to read his words and think to myself, “Yeah, I already though of that.” Now if only I could think of a way to communicate it as clearly as he does. Please note that, by most accounts, the eventual demise of the Crusader Kingdoms was not entirely unprovoked. The only provocation required of Israel, it would seem, is its existence.
Ross Douthat pointed to some of those same similarities recently in a column (“Israel and Outremer”) for the New York Times, although he prefers to use the French term Outremer. It was nice to be able to read his words and think to myself, “Yeah, I already though of that.” Now if only I could think of a way to communicate it as clearly as he does. Please note that, by most accounts, the eventual demise of the Crusader Kingdoms was not entirely unprovoked. The only provocation required of Israel, it would seem, is its existence.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Gnip-Gnop Snap
One of my most vivid childhood memories of my father is, sad to say, not a happy one. Nevertheless, I find in it a measure of my dad's love and the pressure that he must have felt in providing for us.
I was the baby of the family, with three older sisters, the closest of whom was nearly six years older than I was (and am - she will always be nearly six years older than I). For Christmas one year when I was a child somewhere under ten (I might have been five, or I might have been eight - the memory's not clear on the age), we received a Gnip-Gnop game. Gnip-Gnop is, of course, ping-pong spelled backwards. The game was basically a plastic box with a transparent top. A divider with three holes separated the box into two sides, each of which had three paddles for launching the ping-pong balls within the box toward the divider. The point of the game was, I think, to get all of the balls onto the other player's side of the box. As you can probably predict, the game pretty much amounted to two players pounding furiously on their paddles, and it must have made a terrible racket.
My dad, a carpenter by trade, worked hard, especially in the summer. Construction opportunities often dried up in the winter, leaving him under-employed. He would try to make up for it by working longer hours and additional independent jobs during the summer. His only relaxation would come in the evening after dinner, when he could read the newspaper and watch the news or listen to his beloved Reds on the radio.
In the evening of my memory, Dad was trying to relax on the couch. It must have been in the latter half of the 1970s, when the U.S. economy and the whole world seemed to be going to hell. And it must have been shortly after Christmas, when Dad wasn't making much money and he and Mom were pinching every penny to pay their bills and support their family. My sister and I were on the floor, pounding away on the Gnip-Gnop when Dad just snapped. He got up from the couch, walked over to where we were, and kicked the Gnip-Gnop against the wall, leaving me and my sister stunned.
I don't remember what happened next - whether Dad returned to the couch or left the room - but I don't think that any words were spoken.
Why, you might be wondering, would I bring up a memory like this on Fathers Day, and even claim that it is evidence of the depth of a father's love? First, because this is the only memory of this kind that I have. Second, Dad's anger and frustration was directed at the game, not at us kids. Third, the timing and circumstances of the event, in retrospect, make what happened understandable, if not excusable.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples that they must take up their crosses daily. As I drove to mass with my daughters this morning, I reflected that I good homily point for today would be the way in which fathers are called daily to take up their crosses and deny themselves for the sake of their families. I saw my parents do that, and Jesus never said that the cross would be easy. It's not. As a salaried engineer, I've never faced the kind of shortages that confronted Dad nearly every winter, and yet I still find myself pressured by feelings of inadequacy when the bills come due. I don't do it as well as my own dad did. I've snapped at my kids many times, and I can only hope that those aren't the times that form lasting memories for my children. It is in fatherhood that I've truly come to appreciate my own father.
Happy Fathers Day!
I was the baby of the family, with three older sisters, the closest of whom was nearly six years older than I was (and am - she will always be nearly six years older than I). For Christmas one year when I was a child somewhere under ten (I might have been five, or I might have been eight - the memory's not clear on the age), we received a Gnip-Gnop game. Gnip-Gnop is, of course, ping-pong spelled backwards. The game was basically a plastic box with a transparent top. A divider with three holes separated the box into two sides, each of which had three paddles for launching the ping-pong balls within the box toward the divider. The point of the game was, I think, to get all of the balls onto the other player's side of the box. As you can probably predict, the game pretty much amounted to two players pounding furiously on their paddles, and it must have made a terrible racket.
My dad, a carpenter by trade, worked hard, especially in the summer. Construction opportunities often dried up in the winter, leaving him under-employed. He would try to make up for it by working longer hours and additional independent jobs during the summer. His only relaxation would come in the evening after dinner, when he could read the newspaper and watch the news or listen to his beloved Reds on the radio.
In the evening of my memory, Dad was trying to relax on the couch. It must have been in the latter half of the 1970s, when the U.S. economy and the whole world seemed to be going to hell. And it must have been shortly after Christmas, when Dad wasn't making much money and he and Mom were pinching every penny to pay their bills and support their family. My sister and I were on the floor, pounding away on the Gnip-Gnop when Dad just snapped. He got up from the couch, walked over to where we were, and kicked the Gnip-Gnop against the wall, leaving me and my sister stunned.
I don't remember what happened next - whether Dad returned to the couch or left the room - but I don't think that any words were spoken.
Why, you might be wondering, would I bring up a memory like this on Fathers Day, and even claim that it is evidence of the depth of a father's love? First, because this is the only memory of this kind that I have. Second, Dad's anger and frustration was directed at the game, not at us kids. Third, the timing and circumstances of the event, in retrospect, make what happened understandable, if not excusable.
In today's gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples that they must take up their crosses daily. As I drove to mass with my daughters this morning, I reflected that I good homily point for today would be the way in which fathers are called daily to take up their crosses and deny themselves for the sake of their families. I saw my parents do that, and Jesus never said that the cross would be easy. It's not. As a salaried engineer, I've never faced the kind of shortages that confronted Dad nearly every winter, and yet I still find myself pressured by feelings of inadequacy when the bills come due. I don't do it as well as my own dad did. I've snapped at my kids many times, and I can only hope that those aren't the times that form lasting memories for my children. It is in fatherhood that I've truly come to appreciate my own father.
Happy Fathers Day!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Elisha's Oxen
For some strange reason, I used to hear or read 1 Kings 19:19-21 and picture poor Elisha in a field by himself behind a plow pulled by a team of twelve oxen. Every time I heard the passage, I would think to myself, "That's a lot of oxen to be pulling a plow!" Now it seems clear to me that Elisha was out there with at least eleven other guys, each pushing a plow that was being pulled by a pair of oxen yoked together. Elisha, as the son of the owner of the field, was not only supervising the others, he was working alongside them.
The thought that Elisha would slaughter a whole team of twelve oxen always seemed exorbitant and, yes, a little wasteful, especially with property that probably was not his, but his father's. However, in my new understanding, when he slaughtered his yoke of oxen, it was one twelfth of the total that his father had commited to the working of the field, and the people that ate from the sacrifice were the servants that he was supervising.
The thought that Elisha would slaughter a whole team of twelve oxen always seemed exorbitant and, yes, a little wasteful, especially with property that probably was not his, but his father's. However, in my new understanding, when he slaughtered his yoke of oxen, it was one twelfth of the total that his father had commited to the working of the field, and the people that ate from the sacrifice were the servants that he was supervising.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Swagger Wagon
Toyota has a creative advertising series for their Siena minivan. I even saw one that featured Victoria Stillwell (the dog trainer) that aired on Animal Planet. I have mixed feelings about the Siena family. The mom and dad seem very obnoxious and self-centered, but I still thought that the video below was hilarious.
With the backing of Toyota, the productin values in this parody video are excellent. I wonder whether there's anything like it for the Chevy Express 3500 (15-passenger) van club.
Swagger Wagon
With the backing of Toyota, the productin values in this parody video are excellent. I wonder whether there's anything like it for the Chevy Express 3500 (15-passenger) van club.
Swagger Wagon
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Unbearable Cross
Please let me apologize now, for I'm about to get curmudgeonly for the second straight post.
I must have unreasonable expectations because, like Rich Leonardi, I tend to have preconceived notions regarding how priests ought to dress, and I prefer that my priest look like a priest. Unfortunately, I've grown accustomed to picking up our diocesan newspaper to see pictures of priests and religious who are indistinguishable from any common lay person (or even a mild-mannered atheist). A few years ago, I underwent a personality profile for the Archdiocese. I had to drive down to Cincinnati to meet with a Franciscan priest to discuss the results. I went to an office in a commercial park, where I met a man with short cropped hair who was dressing in loafers, khaki pants, and a polo shirt. I never would have guessed he was a priest if I hadn't been told before hand.
Is there a persecution going on, about which I am totally unaware? This isn't Elizabethan England or Soviet Russia. I've never worn a Roman collar - is it really so uncomfortable that men who are eager to take up their cross and earn the privilege to wear it now can't take it off fast enough?
Fr. Charles Conner records many programs on Church history for EWTN. I clearly remember one program on St. Charles Borromeo. When he became a bishop and was placed in his diocese, he found that the formation and conduct of his clergy was badly in need of reform. Among the faults listed was a fondness for secular clothing.
It doesn't seem like that long ago when vocations offices were including the simplicity of the wardrobe among the benefits of choosing the priesthood as a career (maybe that career option focus was part of the problem). As a priest, you'll never have to think about what you're going to wear! Unless, that is, you're off-duty. In that case, you'll need one closet for your clericals and another for your "normal" clothes. Fortunately, you won't have to share your closet with anybody else!
There is a T-Mobile commercial that asks what it's customers want. It shows a priest standing in front of a sausage stand. "Unlimited texting," he says. "Why, you think we don't text? We do." The commercial works because you can see that he's a priest, even though he's not engaged in any kind of priestly duty. Remove the collar, and the scene falls apart.
In the film Saint Ralph, there is a young Salesian priest who, before becoming a priest, was an olympic runner. When Ralph wants to know why he gave up running, he says it is because Salesians don't run - they'd look silly doing it in cassocks. The young man loved running, but he saw his vocation to the priesthood as being far greater in value. (Note: it's been years since I've seen this movie, and it's possible that I'm misremembering the scene.)
As I said, I'm probably being completely unreasonable in suggesting that priests ought to dress in a way that identifies them as priests. But what do the bishops of the United States say?
Canon 288 exempts permanent deacons from the clerical dress requirements of canon 284. The national norm cited above was promulgated on November 1, 1999, with an effective date one month later. The norm was signed by the President of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops as well as the General Secretary, who at the time was Reverend Monsignor Dennis M. Schnurr. Schnurr is now the Archbishop of Cincinnati. That's him, in the photo below, on the right with Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk.
I must have unreasonable expectations because, like Rich Leonardi, I tend to have preconceived notions regarding how priests ought to dress, and I prefer that my priest look like a priest. Unfortunately, I've grown accustomed to picking up our diocesan newspaper to see pictures of priests and religious who are indistinguishable from any common lay person (or even a mild-mannered atheist). A few years ago, I underwent a personality profile for the Archdiocese. I had to drive down to Cincinnati to meet with a Franciscan priest to discuss the results. I went to an office in a commercial park, where I met a man with short cropped hair who was dressing in loafers, khaki pants, and a polo shirt. I never would have guessed he was a priest if I hadn't been told before hand.
Is there a persecution going on, about which I am totally unaware? This isn't Elizabethan England or Soviet Russia. I've never worn a Roman collar - is it really so uncomfortable that men who are eager to take up their cross and earn the privilege to wear it now can't take it off fast enough?
Fr. Charles Conner records many programs on Church history for EWTN. I clearly remember one program on St. Charles Borromeo. When he became a bishop and was placed in his diocese, he found that the formation and conduct of his clergy was badly in need of reform. Among the faults listed was a fondness for secular clothing.
It doesn't seem like that long ago when vocations offices were including the simplicity of the wardrobe among the benefits of choosing the priesthood as a career (maybe that career option focus was part of the problem). As a priest, you'll never have to think about what you're going to wear! Unless, that is, you're off-duty. In that case, you'll need one closet for your clericals and another for your "normal" clothes. Fortunately, you won't have to share your closet with anybody else!
There is a T-Mobile commercial that asks what it's customers want. It shows a priest standing in front of a sausage stand. "Unlimited texting," he says. "Why, you think we don't text? We do." The commercial works because you can see that he's a priest, even though he's not engaged in any kind of priestly duty. Remove the collar, and the scene falls apart.
In the film Saint Ralph, there is a young Salesian priest who, before becoming a priest, was an olympic runner. When Ralph wants to know why he gave up running, he says it is because Salesians don't run - they'd look silly doing it in cassocks. The young man loved running, but he saw his vocation to the priesthood as being far greater in value. (Note: it's been years since I've seen this movie, and it's possible that I'm misremembering the scene.)
As I said, I'm probably being completely unreasonable in suggesting that priests ought to dress in a way that identifies them as priests. But what do the bishops of the United States say?
Complementary Norm: The National Conference of Catholic Bishops, in accord with the prescriptions of canon 284, hereby decrees that without prejudice to the provisions of canon 288, clerics are to dress in conformity with their sacred calling.
In liturgical rites, clerics shall wear the vesture prescribed in the proper liturgical books. Outside liturgical functions, a black suit and Roman collar are the usual attire for priests. The use of the cassock is at the discretion of the cleric.
In the case of religious clerics, the determinations of their proper institutes or societies are to be observed with regard to wearing the religious habit.
Canon 288 exempts permanent deacons from the clerical dress requirements of canon 284. The national norm cited above was promulgated on November 1, 1999, with an effective date one month later. The norm was signed by the President of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops as well as the General Secretary, who at the time was Reverend Monsignor Dennis M. Schnurr. Schnurr is now the Archbishop of Cincinnati. That's him, in the photo below, on the right with Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Corpus Christi 2010
So how was your Corpus Christi celebration? Mine was, sadly, about what I’ve come to expect.
The celebration of Corpus Christi was established by Pope Urban IV via papal bull on September 8, 1264. It was to be celebrated annually on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. The feast was further ratified by Urban’s successor, Pope Clement V and at the General Council of Vienne in 1311. Corpus Christi was explicitly established to extol the love of Our Savior as expressed in the Holy Eucharist. In many places, the celebration was transferred from the Thursday after Trinity Sunday to the second Sunday after Pentecost, and in modern times, the name was changed to The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ to emphasize that both the body and the blood are present in the Eucharist.
Clearly, the emphasis is Eucharistic – the mystery of Christ’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament and the love with which Our Lord gave us that enduring presence for our food.
Good liturgy not only makes present to us and allows us to participate in the sacred mysteries, it also, through the many signs incorporated into the rite, edifies us. Immersion in good liturgy is a form of catechesis.
I have to preface my statements of disappointment by noting that I attended mass on Saturday evening because I wanted to run in a 10K on Sunday morning. It is possible, though I have my doubts, that the Sunday masses were different.
In lieu of Psalm 110, which is intimately tied to the first reading story of Melchizedek’s offering of bread and wine, our “sung Psalm response” was based on Psalm 40 (“Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will”). Not that there’s anything wrong with Psalm 40, but it doesn’t have the same clear connection to the readings.
The wonderful sequence before the Gospel was completely omitted. The missal even allows for a shorter form of the sequence, but even that was apparently too much for our celebrant. I raved about the sequence last year (when I attended at a different parish) and used it as an opportunity for catechizing my own children.
The closest we came to hearing a homiletic word about the Eucharist was a blessing of the (Extraordinary) Ministers of Communion. There was next to no emphasis on the transformation of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. Rather, the emphasis was placed on our generosity and sharing (yes, there was even a suggestion that the multiplication of the loaves might have been a “miracle” of getting people to share what they had brought, rather than a foreshadowing of the generous outpouring of God’s grace in the Eucharist) and relaxing (because Jesus had the people sit down) with one another.
No processions. No hint of Thomistic theology regarding the Eucharist. Was it valid? Sure. Did it satisfy my Sunday commitment? Of course. Was I edified or inspired? Eh, not so much.
The celebration of Corpus Christi was established by Pope Urban IV via papal bull on September 8, 1264. It was to be celebrated annually on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. The feast was further ratified by Urban’s successor, Pope Clement V and at the General Council of Vienne in 1311. Corpus Christi was explicitly established to extol the love of Our Savior as expressed in the Holy Eucharist. In many places, the celebration was transferred from the Thursday after Trinity Sunday to the second Sunday after Pentecost, and in modern times, the name was changed to The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ to emphasize that both the body and the blood are present in the Eucharist.
Clearly, the emphasis is Eucharistic – the mystery of Christ’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament and the love with which Our Lord gave us that enduring presence for our food.
Good liturgy not only makes present to us and allows us to participate in the sacred mysteries, it also, through the many signs incorporated into the rite, edifies us. Immersion in good liturgy is a form of catechesis.
I have to preface my statements of disappointment by noting that I attended mass on Saturday evening because I wanted to run in a 10K on Sunday morning. It is possible, though I have my doubts, that the Sunday masses were different.
In lieu of Psalm 110, which is intimately tied to the first reading story of Melchizedek’s offering of bread and wine, our “sung Psalm response” was based on Psalm 40 (“Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will”). Not that there’s anything wrong with Psalm 40, but it doesn’t have the same clear connection to the readings.
The wonderful sequence before the Gospel was completely omitted. The missal even allows for a shorter form of the sequence, but even that was apparently too much for our celebrant. I raved about the sequence last year (when I attended at a different parish) and used it as an opportunity for catechizing my own children.
The closest we came to hearing a homiletic word about the Eucharist was a blessing of the (Extraordinary) Ministers of Communion. There was next to no emphasis on the transformation of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. Rather, the emphasis was placed on our generosity and sharing (yes, there was even a suggestion that the multiplication of the loaves might have been a “miracle” of getting people to share what they had brought, rather than a foreshadowing of the generous outpouring of God’s grace in the Eucharist) and relaxing (because Jesus had the people sit down) with one another.
No processions. No hint of Thomistic theology regarding the Eucharist. Was it valid? Sure. Did it satisfy my Sunday commitment? Of course. Was I edified or inspired? Eh, not so much.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Bartimaeus and Me
Reading the story of Bartimaeus is, for me at least, an occasion for introspection. I am Bartimaeus, but without his depth of faith. Bartimaeus is the blind man that Jesus encounters outside of Jericho. The story is related in the 10th chapter of the gospel of Mark, and was read this past Thursday.
Bartimaeus was sitting and begging when he heard that Jesus was passing by. I might be sitting in my cubicle at work or, worse, sitting at home idling time away in front of the television or playing games on the computer.
Bartimaeus recognized who Jesus was and called out to him. I like to think that I know who Jesus is, ut am I willing to call out to him, or is there an element of the Pelagian heresy in my personality. There is a part of me that thinks I should be able to overcome my faults on my own, as if the grace of God is wasted upon me because I don’t exercise the self-discipline, discernment, and docility to take advantage of it. What keeps one from calling out as Bartimaeus did? Is it some vague desire to appear respectable and self-sufficient? That’s not working out so well for me.
Those accompanying Jesus tried to quite Bartimaeus, but he only called out louder. Bartimaeus did not fear becoming a spectacle, and he persisted in the face of discouragement. Too often, I am turned away by the slightest resistance.
Jesus hears Bartimaeus and has his followers call him. The same people who were telling him to be quiet now tell him to cheer up because he is being called. It’s true, sadly, that members of the Church can be obstacles to reaching Christ, and yet He still chooses to act through them. Jesus could have called to Bartimaeus himself. He did not. As frustrating as our interaction with the Church might sometimes be, it is through His Church that He desires that we be saved.
Bartimaeus is already way ahead of where I would be. Now he jumps up and rushes to Jesus. There is no hesitation and no caution. I, on the other hand, am overly cautious, always wanting to preserve the option to go back, to minimize the risk. Were I in the place of Bartimaeus, I would be debating with myself about whether to call out in the first place, and would only reach a decision after the opportunity had passed and Jesus was out of earshot.
When Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants, Bartimaeus asks simply for sight – the healing of his infirmity. If only we all might know what it is that keeps us from the Kingdom, the rush unhesitatingly to Jesus to seek the cure. I think that I have some idea of where my greatest failures of virtue lie, and I think that I’ve asked in prayer to be relieved of these defects. That they remain whispers into my Pelagian heart that the fault lies with me, and therefore it’s up to me to bring about the change. I’m left precariously balanced between despairing of my own weakness and trusting that God’s mercy and grace can overcome it.
“Your faith has healed you,” Jesus tells him. I do believe Lord, increase my faith! I ask not for my own sake, but that your name might be glorified. I ask for the sake of my wife, my children, and all to whom I might be a source of scandal and an obstacle to closer communion with you. Fill me with a healthy hatred for the things that keep me from rushing to you and, like Bartimaeus, following you along the road.
Bartimaeus was sitting and begging when he heard that Jesus was passing by. I might be sitting in my cubicle at work or, worse, sitting at home idling time away in front of the television or playing games on the computer.
Bartimaeus recognized who Jesus was and called out to him. I like to think that I know who Jesus is, ut am I willing to call out to him, or is there an element of the Pelagian heresy in my personality. There is a part of me that thinks I should be able to overcome my faults on my own, as if the grace of God is wasted upon me because I don’t exercise the self-discipline, discernment, and docility to take advantage of it. What keeps one from calling out as Bartimaeus did? Is it some vague desire to appear respectable and self-sufficient? That’s not working out so well for me.
Those accompanying Jesus tried to quite Bartimaeus, but he only called out louder. Bartimaeus did not fear becoming a spectacle, and he persisted in the face of discouragement. Too often, I am turned away by the slightest resistance.
Jesus hears Bartimaeus and has his followers call him. The same people who were telling him to be quiet now tell him to cheer up because he is being called. It’s true, sadly, that members of the Church can be obstacles to reaching Christ, and yet He still chooses to act through them. Jesus could have called to Bartimaeus himself. He did not. As frustrating as our interaction with the Church might sometimes be, it is through His Church that He desires that we be saved.
Bartimaeus is already way ahead of where I would be. Now he jumps up and rushes to Jesus. There is no hesitation and no caution. I, on the other hand, am overly cautious, always wanting to preserve the option to go back, to minimize the risk. Were I in the place of Bartimaeus, I would be debating with myself about whether to call out in the first place, and would only reach a decision after the opportunity had passed and Jesus was out of earshot.
When Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants, Bartimaeus asks simply for sight – the healing of his infirmity. If only we all might know what it is that keeps us from the Kingdom, the rush unhesitatingly to Jesus to seek the cure. I think that I have some idea of where my greatest failures of virtue lie, and I think that I’ve asked in prayer to be relieved of these defects. That they remain whispers into my Pelagian heart that the fault lies with me, and therefore it’s up to me to bring about the change. I’m left precariously balanced between despairing of my own weakness and trusting that God’s mercy and grace can overcome it.
“Your faith has healed you,” Jesus tells him. I do believe Lord, increase my faith! I ask not for my own sake, but that your name might be glorified. I ask for the sake of my wife, my children, and all to whom I might be a source of scandal and an obstacle to closer communion with you. Fill me with a healthy hatred for the things that keep me from rushing to you and, like Bartimaeus, following you along the road.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Random Observations
A few random observations:
1. The older I get, the more my knees hurt after I run. At this rate, I'll be crippled by the time I'm 60.
2. Why is it that I'm always at least a day behind in any novena that I attempt?
3. Yahoo recently featured photos of 51 Miss America hopefuls (sorry, can't find a link). All of the pictures were "safe", yet not one gave any hint of clothing. In other words, every one looked like a head shot of a naked woman. Why?
4. There's a lot of Obama fear out there. Otherwise sensible people think that President Obama is going to destroy the United States. Although it sounds counter-intuitive, I take comfort in the man's executive incompetence. Even though his goal might be a post-American world without a super-power, he just doesn't have the organizational skill to make it happen. He will (and is!) certainly make a mess of things, and the clean-up will be long and painful, but it's not the end of the world.
5. The questions that need to be answered regarding the oil rig disaster in the Gulf of Mexico: What caused the explosion? Was it the same failure that caused the malfunction of the cutoff device, or was it a separate, coincident failure? Was the failure (failures?) a design flaw or operator error? Are other rigs at risk? What could have been done to prevent this, and how do we ensure that it won't happen again? Did anybody act in a criminally negligent manner? And, of course, how do we recover and contain the leak?
6. The nuclear non-proliferation treaty is broken. As the club of nuclear-capable countries grows, where, when, and by whom will the first use be seen?
1. The older I get, the more my knees hurt after I run. At this rate, I'll be crippled by the time I'm 60.
2. Why is it that I'm always at least a day behind in any novena that I attempt?
3. Yahoo recently featured photos of 51 Miss America hopefuls (sorry, can't find a link). All of the pictures were "safe", yet not one gave any hint of clothing. In other words, every one looked like a head shot of a naked woman. Why?
4. There's a lot of Obama fear out there. Otherwise sensible people think that President Obama is going to destroy the United States. Although it sounds counter-intuitive, I take comfort in the man's executive incompetence. Even though his goal might be a post-American world without a super-power, he just doesn't have the organizational skill to make it happen. He will (and is!) certainly make a mess of things, and the clean-up will be long and painful, but it's not the end of the world.
5. The questions that need to be answered regarding the oil rig disaster in the Gulf of Mexico: What caused the explosion? Was it the same failure that caused the malfunction of the cutoff device, or was it a separate, coincident failure? Was the failure (failures?) a design flaw or operator error? Are other rigs at risk? What could have been done to prevent this, and how do we ensure that it won't happen again? Did anybody act in a criminally negligent manner? And, of course, how do we recover and contain the leak?
6. The nuclear non-proliferation treaty is broken. As the club of nuclear-capable countries grows, where, when, and by whom will the first use be seen?
Saturday, May 15, 2010
A Woman In Labor
My seventh child was born on Thursday. I now have two sons, sixteen years apart, with five girls in between. Michael and his mother came home yesterday
As sometimes happens when I try to follow along with what the Church is reading in the Lectionary, I read the wrong gospel. I didn't realize that it was the Feast day of St. Matthias, and so I read the gospel for Friday of the Sixth Week of Easter (John 16:20-23). It turned out to be rather appropriate.
As sometimes happens when I try to follow along with what the Church is reading in the Lectionary, I read the wrong gospel. I didn't realize that it was the Feast day of St. Matthias, and so I read the gospel for Friday of the Sixth Week of Easter (John 16:20-23). It turned out to be rather appropriate.
When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world. (John 16:21)I asked my recently delivered wife if she could elaborate upon the verse for me. She just smiled and said, "Yeah, that's the way it is."
Monday, May 10, 2010
Attack of the Speculators
Bloomberg Businessweek reports on the $962 billion bailout (er, “loan package”) approved by the 16 nations that use the euro in an attempt to restore confidence in the common currency. Most of us ordinary people think that the euro is in trouble because of the incredible amounts of debt taken on by certain countries, especially Greece. Fortunately, we have reporters at Businessweek to set us straight:
Silly us. It’s not the debt that’s the problem, it’s the “speculators” who are “attacking” the currency. It seems entirely more reasonable to me to conclude that investors are making rational decisions to hedge against a looming catastrophe.
Jolted into action by last week’s slide in the currency and soaring bond yields in Portugal and Spain, the 16 euro nations agreed to offer financial assistance worth as much as 750 billion euros ($962 billion) to countries under attack from speculators. The European Central Bank will counter “severe tensions” in “certain” markets by purchasing government and private debt.
Silly us. It’s not the debt that’s the problem, it’s the “speculators” who are “attacking” the currency. It seems entirely more reasonable to me to conclude that investors are making rational decisions to hedge against a looming catastrophe.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Bullets and Grenades
The Knights of Columbus Veritas series includes a booklet entitled “Becoming a Real Man of God,” written by Fr. Roger Landry. Fr. Landry also has a book which covers the same ground. [UPDATE 5/12: The book that I was thinking of was written by Fr. Larry Richards, not Fr. Roger Landry.] I don’t know which came first, that is, whether the book is an expanded form of the booklet or the booklet is a condensed form of the book. The booklet is available as a convenient podcast that can be listened to on any mp3 player.
At one point, Fr. Landry offers a very brief reflection on 1 John 3:16,18:
Yes, we men are called to a heroic level of virtue to which few of us rise. It is not so much that we refuse to throw ourselves on that particular grenade. It is more that the threat is cumulative and chronic rather than acute. The damage is done gradually rather than all at once. Further, the grenade is always there – it never goes off, and it never goes away. That, and not necessarily a selfish disregard for his beloved, is why many men do not react to the threats that Fr. Landry presents.
At one point, Fr. Landry offers a very brief reflection on 1 John 3:16,18:
In marriage preparation, I often ask would-be grooms whether they love their fiancé enough to take a bullet for her. Never has one said no. Then I ask whether his answer would be the same if the bullet took one of the following forms: being abstinent before marriage; giving up smoking if she asks; being on time if his is habitually late; cleaning up after himself better; patiently telling her what happened that day at work if she requests it; learning the faith better to help pass it on to her more completely; or making the time and the priority to pray with her. These are the types of grenades on which many men refuse to dive. But these gifts of oneself are so much more valuable than almost any material gift one could give, and they are a far greater sign of real love than any ring could symbolize.
Yes, we men are called to a heroic level of virtue to which few of us rise. It is not so much that we refuse to throw ourselves on that particular grenade. It is more that the threat is cumulative and chronic rather than acute. The damage is done gradually rather than all at once. Further, the grenade is always there – it never goes off, and it never goes away. That, and not necessarily a selfish disregard for his beloved, is why many men do not react to the threats that Fr. Landry presents.
Exciting Times
I don’t usually offer my opinions on the secular news stories, but these are exciting times, and I mean that entirely euphemistically.
I am astonished by the public reaction to the law in Arizona that empowers state and local law enforcement officials to enforce federal immigration law. It’s not fascist to tell cops that if they think someone is here illegally, then can check their status and actually enforce the law. The issue for most of us who support the measure is not hostility to aliens (not ET – Stephen Hawking says we should be afraid of ET). Rather, the issue is national security and control of the borders. I don’t mind letting them in, as long as they use the gate and tell us who they are. I borders and citizenship don’t mean anything, the I guess I can go ahead and jump the fence to swim in my neighbor’s pool. I would like to see the criminal violence being executed by the Mexican drug cartels stay on their side of the border. Ideally, of course, the federal government would be securing the border, but they don’t seem to be too interested in performing that function. Lest anyone argue that I’m being partisan, I thought that the Bush administration did an equally lousy job of securing our borders and ports in the long aftermath of 9/11/01.
Not entirely unrelated is news that we’ve again gotten very lucky. We’ve been extremely fortunate that the Christmas Day panty-bomb and the Times Square car bomb were both duds that failed to go off. This is going to lull us into a false sense of invulnerability. We know that the enemy knows how to make bombs. We also had both of the bombers on our intelligence radar, and yet both came within a hair’s breadth of wreaking carnage on American soil. They also came here legally, and, in the case of the Times Square bomber, even obtained citizenship. If we have no border enforcement, then we can’t even hope to catch the incompetent terrorists at the gate, let alone those who are clever and shrewd. I was born in 1969, so I have no memory of 1968, when radical groups like the Weather Underground were planting bombs across the country that actually blew up. I don’t want to experience it myself.
Finally, after a year-and-a-half, it feels as though the other shoe is about to drop on the world economy, this time as the result of unsustainable government debt. Europe, specifically Greece, is leading the way. We hear that a bailout of Greece is required because all of the European nations are tied together through a common currency, and if Greece slips over the edge, all of the European nations that use the euro will be pulled down into the yawning chasm of devaluation. The problem is that the Greeks don’t care. They continue to demand that their government keep spending money on them that the government just doesn’t have. A bailout will only allow continued deficit spending, delaying the inevitable. Where Greece is going, Spain, Portugal, and the UK are headed. My sense (God, please let me be wrong!) is that Europe is about to implode, and what will be left when the dust clears is anybody’s guess.
Habitual deficit spending is a problem. Americans recently observed Cinco de Mayo, which commemorates an inconsequential victory of the Mexican army over the French army in 1862 (we Americans were a little busy killing each other at the time). Although the Mexicans won the battle, the French went on to overthrow the Mexican government and install a puppet emperor, who was likewise overthrown a few years later. The French did this because the Mexicans defaulted on their loans. We’ve got rampant deficit spending of our own, much of it financed by foreign powers like China. In our own country, California and New York are blazing a trail toward default, and the federal government appears unable to control spending. Our government will raise taxes before it cuts spending, then will feign confusion when the economy slips back into recession. Their response will be even more spending – ever higher deficits that will accelerate it down the path to collapse.
Exciting times indeed!
I am astonished by the public reaction to the law in Arizona that empowers state and local law enforcement officials to enforce federal immigration law. It’s not fascist to tell cops that if they think someone is here illegally, then can check their status and actually enforce the law. The issue for most of us who support the measure is not hostility to aliens (not ET – Stephen Hawking says we should be afraid of ET). Rather, the issue is national security and control of the borders. I don’t mind letting them in, as long as they use the gate and tell us who they are. I borders and citizenship don’t mean anything, the I guess I can go ahead and jump the fence to swim in my neighbor’s pool. I would like to see the criminal violence being executed by the Mexican drug cartels stay on their side of the border. Ideally, of course, the federal government would be securing the border, but they don’t seem to be too interested in performing that function. Lest anyone argue that I’m being partisan, I thought that the Bush administration did an equally lousy job of securing our borders and ports in the long aftermath of 9/11/01.
Not entirely unrelated is news that we’ve again gotten very lucky. We’ve been extremely fortunate that the Christmas Day panty-bomb and the Times Square car bomb were both duds that failed to go off. This is going to lull us into a false sense of invulnerability. We know that the enemy knows how to make bombs. We also had both of the bombers on our intelligence radar, and yet both came within a hair’s breadth of wreaking carnage on American soil. They also came here legally, and, in the case of the Times Square bomber, even obtained citizenship. If we have no border enforcement, then we can’t even hope to catch the incompetent terrorists at the gate, let alone those who are clever and shrewd. I was born in 1969, so I have no memory of 1968, when radical groups like the Weather Underground were planting bombs across the country that actually blew up. I don’t want to experience it myself.
Finally, after a year-and-a-half, it feels as though the other shoe is about to drop on the world economy, this time as the result of unsustainable government debt. Europe, specifically Greece, is leading the way. We hear that a bailout of Greece is required because all of the European nations are tied together through a common currency, and if Greece slips over the edge, all of the European nations that use the euro will be pulled down into the yawning chasm of devaluation. The problem is that the Greeks don’t care. They continue to demand that their government keep spending money on them that the government just doesn’t have. A bailout will only allow continued deficit spending, delaying the inevitable. Where Greece is going, Spain, Portugal, and the UK are headed. My sense (God, please let me be wrong!) is that Europe is about to implode, and what will be left when the dust clears is anybody’s guess.
Habitual deficit spending is a problem. Americans recently observed Cinco de Mayo, which commemorates an inconsequential victory of the Mexican army over the French army in 1862 (we Americans were a little busy killing each other at the time). Although the Mexicans won the battle, the French went on to overthrow the Mexican government and install a puppet emperor, who was likewise overthrown a few years later. The French did this because the Mexicans defaulted on their loans. We’ve got rampant deficit spending of our own, much of it financed by foreign powers like China. In our own country, California and New York are blazing a trail toward default, and the federal government appears unable to control spending. Our government will raise taxes before it cuts spending, then will feign confusion when the economy slips back into recession. Their response will be even more spending – ever higher deficits that will accelerate it down the path to collapse.
Exciting times indeed!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Don't Wake Me
My wife and I recently found ourselves out on the town with a half hour to kill before we needed to meet her parents for a dinner date, so we went to a local bookstore to browse for a bit. Having distinctly different tastes in books, she went her way and I went mine. I found myself standing in front of the history titles. I couldn’t put my finger on the reason, but as I stood there, I could feel my mood crashing.
I’ve grown up in an age of exceptional prosperity and security. Even with the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over our heads, it was always a theoretical possibility that never really touched us. It never happened. Because it’s all I’ve ever known, I tend to assume that such peace is normal. Reviewing history books suggests that the assumption is not a safe one to make. I find it hard these days to maintain a sense of optimism for the future. It feels as though we are waking up from a delightful nap and re-entering history. I’d rather go back to sleep, thank you very much.
I’ve grown up in an age of exceptional prosperity and security. Even with the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over our heads, it was always a theoretical possibility that never really touched us. It never happened. Because it’s all I’ve ever known, I tend to assume that such peace is normal. Reviewing history books suggests that the assumption is not a safe one to make. I find it hard these days to maintain a sense of optimism for the future. It feels as though we are waking up from a delightful nap and re-entering history. I’d rather go back to sleep, thank you very much.
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Limits of Pacifism
It’s stories like this one that lead me to occasionally question just how much I would be willing to tolerate in the name of peace. God placed limits on the legitimate vengeance of the ancient Jews. “An eye for an eye” meant that the response had to be proportional to the offense. It was an explicit repudiation of the philosophy espoused by Sean Connery’s character in The Untouchables: “If he puts one of yours in the hospital, you put one of his in the morgue!”
Jesus came along and seemed to reject even the proportional response, exhorting his followers to “turn the other cheek” and “pray for your enemies.” All well and good, as long as all that your enemy wants to do is give you a wicked cross-face. However, in the face of what happened to this barber in Pakistan (follow the link above for details), I think that I might “aim to misbehave” in the fashion of Captain Malcolm Reynolds.
It’s one thing to let somebody knock your head around a bit. It’s another thing entirely when they intend to break both of your legs and gang-rape you. Now imagine that it’s not you, but someone you love (a parent, a spouse, or a child) that’s on the receiving end. Still feel like pacifism is the answer?
Yes, vengeance belongs to the Lord; but in such a circumstance, I would try awfully hard to be His tool.
Jesus came along and seemed to reject even the proportional response, exhorting his followers to “turn the other cheek” and “pray for your enemies.” All well and good, as long as all that your enemy wants to do is give you a wicked cross-face. However, in the face of what happened to this barber in Pakistan (follow the link above for details), I think that I might “aim to misbehave” in the fashion of Captain Malcolm Reynolds.
It’s one thing to let somebody knock your head around a bit. It’s another thing entirely when they intend to break both of your legs and gang-rape you. Now imagine that it’s not you, but someone you love (a parent, a spouse, or a child) that’s on the receiving end. Still feel like pacifism is the answer?
Yes, vengeance belongs to the Lord; but in such a circumstance, I would try awfully hard to be His tool.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Marriage Market
In the May 2010 issue of First Things, there is an article (available on-line to subscribers only, for now) by Timothy Reichert that attempts to look at the effects of contraceptive technologies in socio-economic terms. Reichert argues that what was at one time a single mating market with roughly equal participation by men and women has since divided into two separate markets. The sex market is dominated by an over-representation of men and scarcity of women, whereas the opposite condition holds true in the marriage market. The relative over-abundance of women in the marriage market means that women have a disadvantageous bargaining position and therefore end up with lower quality marriages and spouses than in the past, when only one market existed. In other words, they are forced to settle for what they can get. From this, he concludes that contraception is bad for women.
I thoroughly agree that contraception is bad for women and for society, but Reichert’s socio-economic argument doesn’t come anywhere close to proving it. I would offer the counter argument that men who choose to vacate the marriage market in favor of the sex market would not have been the most stable husbands and fathers, and therefore removing them from the marriage market is a good thing. While the total population of men in the marriage market might be smaller, a larger proportion of that population would be fit for fatherhood. Further, that means that a man seeking marriage would have an improved bargaining position and, therefore, would not need to settle for a wife of lower quality. This is a good thing for the man who wants to raise a family.
While my wife might have had to settle for a husband who was only worth 50 cents to her dollar, my one dollar got me a two dollar wife!
I thoroughly agree that contraception is bad for women and for society, but Reichert’s socio-economic argument doesn’t come anywhere close to proving it. I would offer the counter argument that men who choose to vacate the marriage market in favor of the sex market would not have been the most stable husbands and fathers, and therefore removing them from the marriage market is a good thing. While the total population of men in the marriage market might be smaller, a larger proportion of that population would be fit for fatherhood. Further, that means that a man seeking marriage would have an improved bargaining position and, therefore, would not need to settle for a wife of lower quality. This is a good thing for the man who wants to raise a family.
While my wife might have had to settle for a husband who was only worth 50 cents to her dollar, my one dollar got me a two dollar wife!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Say What?
Sometimes, all I can do is shake my head and admit that I just don’t understand. That happens to me a lot when I try to read the Gospel of John. It’s not the entire gospel, mind you, just the extended discourses, where Jesus seems to say the same thin in slightly different ways five different times. Even after all of that, I’m still left scratching my head and asking myself, “What did he just say?”
Take, for instance, John 12:44-50. It’s the gospel reading from the Lectionary for Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter (today). There’s something there about belief, something about judgment, and something having to do with equivalence between Jesus and God the Father, but for the life of me, I can’t make mush sense of what He’s saying. I know that whatever it is, it has to fit in with the rest of scripture and with what the Church has infallibly taught through the ages. So the passage can’t possible be saying that as long as long as I believe that Jesus is the Messiah, none of my other sins matter. Belief carries with it some moral imperative, and we cannot know just what calculus God will apply at the Judgment when he separates the sheep from the goats.
I read passages like this, and I think, “It’s no wonder your disciples didn’t understand what you were saying to them.” I live in a post-Pentecost world. I’ve received the Holy Spirit through Baptism and Confirmation, and I don’t understand!
It’s almost enough to make me want to go and read Newman’s essay on the development of doctrine to see how the Church itself had to work through all of this.
Take, for instance, John 12:44-50. It’s the gospel reading from the Lectionary for Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter (today). There’s something there about belief, something about judgment, and something having to do with equivalence between Jesus and God the Father, but for the life of me, I can’t make mush sense of what He’s saying. I know that whatever it is, it has to fit in with the rest of scripture and with what the Church has infallibly taught through the ages. So the passage can’t possible be saying that as long as long as I believe that Jesus is the Messiah, none of my other sins matter. Belief carries with it some moral imperative, and we cannot know just what calculus God will apply at the Judgment when he separates the sheep from the goats.
I read passages like this, and I think, “It’s no wonder your disciples didn’t understand what you were saying to them.” I live in a post-Pentecost world. I’ve received the Holy Spirit through Baptism and Confirmation, and I don’t understand!
It’s almost enough to make me want to go and read Newman’s essay on the development of doctrine to see how the Church itself had to work through all of this.
My Addiction
I think I have a food addiction. The first thing that I think about when I wake up in the morning is breakfast. I can’t go more than a couple of hours without craving the stuff. I routinely snack on sunflower seeds at my desk. In the post-lunch afternoon, attempting to abstain leads to severe drowsiness. I have to further admit that it isn’t just food. Almost every day, I drink a pot of coffee in the morning and a half pot in the afternoon. If I’m in an exceptional mood (good or bad), the afternoon coffee is replaced by a massive 44 ounce Mt. Dew from the soda fountain at whichever gas station is the most convenient.
I’m a mess, and it’s a condition that I know is not sustainable. Sooner or later, it will catch up with me. I don’t want to be like the guy in my office who, every day at lunch time, pulls out his carrots and celery and yogurt. I see that, and it makes me want to cry.
It seems like it should be so easy to just tell myself to exercise some self-discipline. My dirty little secret, though, is that I have next to no self-discipline. It’s kind of like saying that the first step to being a saint is choosing not to sin. It sounds so easy, and yet I still find myself crawling back to the confessional with the same list of transgressions again and again.
So, I’m out of the closet, so to speak. Even though I can run a 5K, that 40 extra pounds that I’m carrying around makes it a lot harder than it has to be. I need to make a change.
I’m not writing solely in physical terms, here. Over the last couple of years, I’ve discerned that my body and my spirit are united through my person. I don’t mean for that to sound mystical. What I mean is that where I’ve discovered a weakness of the will affecting my physical body, there’s usually an analogous weakness of the will that affects my spiritual life. I cannot remain a self-indulgent glutton physically while expecting to make any progress toward holiness, and by holiness I mean the kind of communion with God that was intended by our Creator. Unlike an angel, the human person has both body and spirit.
Having recognized the need for change, the next question is how to go about it. Do I quit cold-turkey, or wean myself gradually? I don’t know that the absolutist, cold-turkey approach could be maintained. It might work for alcoholics, but food is kind of fundamental to life. I’m going to go for the gradual wean, with a goal of management. I suspect that will be easier on those around me. My wife was relieved, this past Lent, to learn that I wasn’t giving up coffee, and it wasn’t because she drinks the stuff. I’m not sure about the spiritual analogy, though. It just won’t do to say, “I’m not going to stop sinning, I’m just going to sin less.” Yet, I think most spiritual directors would agree that trying to erase all of one’s faults at once is a recipe for failure. Pick the most glaring, they would say, and focus on that one.
The man that I am is not the man that I want to be. That’s not meant to be a statement of self-loathing. Rather, it is a recognition that I am far from perfect, and that improvement is possible and desired. I hope that I never reach a state where I think that improvement either is not possible or is not desired. The transformation that I’m looking for won’t take place without effort, and the sooner I begin, the better off I (and hopefully, those around me) will be.
I’m a mess, and it’s a condition that I know is not sustainable. Sooner or later, it will catch up with me. I don’t want to be like the guy in my office who, every day at lunch time, pulls out his carrots and celery and yogurt. I see that, and it makes me want to cry.
It seems like it should be so easy to just tell myself to exercise some self-discipline. My dirty little secret, though, is that I have next to no self-discipline. It’s kind of like saying that the first step to being a saint is choosing not to sin. It sounds so easy, and yet I still find myself crawling back to the confessional with the same list of transgressions again and again.
So, I’m out of the closet, so to speak. Even though I can run a 5K, that 40 extra pounds that I’m carrying around makes it a lot harder than it has to be. I need to make a change.
I’m not writing solely in physical terms, here. Over the last couple of years, I’ve discerned that my body and my spirit are united through my person. I don’t mean for that to sound mystical. What I mean is that where I’ve discovered a weakness of the will affecting my physical body, there’s usually an analogous weakness of the will that affects my spiritual life. I cannot remain a self-indulgent glutton physically while expecting to make any progress toward holiness, and by holiness I mean the kind of communion with God that was intended by our Creator. Unlike an angel, the human person has both body and spirit.
Having recognized the need for change, the next question is how to go about it. Do I quit cold-turkey, or wean myself gradually? I don’t know that the absolutist, cold-turkey approach could be maintained. It might work for alcoholics, but food is kind of fundamental to life. I’m going to go for the gradual wean, with a goal of management. I suspect that will be easier on those around me. My wife was relieved, this past Lent, to learn that I wasn’t giving up coffee, and it wasn’t because she drinks the stuff. I’m not sure about the spiritual analogy, though. It just won’t do to say, “I’m not going to stop sinning, I’m just going to sin less.” Yet, I think most spiritual directors would agree that trying to erase all of one’s faults at once is a recipe for failure. Pick the most glaring, they would say, and focus on that one.
The man that I am is not the man that I want to be. That’s not meant to be a statement of self-loathing. Rather, it is a recognition that I am far from perfect, and that improvement is possible and desired. I hope that I never reach a state where I think that improvement either is not possible or is not desired. The transformation that I’m looking for won’t take place without effort, and the sooner I begin, the better off I (and hopefully, those around me) will be.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I Got Forkus Prime!
Mother Teresa of Calcutta used to say, echoing her patroness St. Therese of Liseux, that the secret of sanctitiy was not to be found in the doing of great things, but rather in the doing of little things with great love. I think that a corollary might be that the secret of joy is found not in rejoicing at the great momentous occasions, but rather in finding reasons to rejoice in the daily mundane occasions. It is the kind of sentiment that G. K. Chesterton wrote about in Orthodoxy:
Any item that we handle during the day can be a source of joy and gratitude, some things even more so than others. I have a particular example in mind.
We have many forks in our silverware drawer. Most are inexpensive stamped steel. There is one fork, however, that stands out as having superior quality. From the heft, to the material, to it’s curvaceous form, that fork is definitely the elite of the fork drawer. I’ve taken to calling it Forkus Prime.
Forkus Prime has the uncanny ability to brighten my day. When I make my morning breakfast (not to be confused with afternoon breakfast or evening breakfast) and reach for a utensil, I receive a mini-burst of joy when I find Forkus Prime waiting for me. Moreover, I find that the joy persists beyond the moment. Even in the face of a grouchy, pregnant wife, my mood is elevated because “I got Forkus Prime!” It is amazine how I can be affected by such a simple thing.
I have considered splurging for a whole drawer full of Forkus Primes. I suspect, however, that the mini-burst of joy would become severely diluted. In plenty, I would find it exceedingly difficult to achieve Chesterton’s ideal of rejoicing in all things as though they were the only thing saved from the shipwreck. It is much better to play the lottery every time I reach into the drawer in the hope of finding the occasional Easter egg, however humble it might be.
I admit that I still have a long way to go. The ideal would be to rejoice in all the forks, not just Forkus Prime, and not just the forks, but the eggs, toast, and plate as well. I can sometimes accomplish this, provided that I’m already in a reasonably good mood.
Only Forkus Prime, however, has succeeded in changing my foul mood to fair, and for that I am thankful.
It is a good exercise, in empty or ugly hours of the day, to look at anything, the coal-scuttle or the book-case, and think how happy one could be to have brought it out of the sinking ship onto the solitary island. But it is a better exercise still to remember how all things have had this hair-breadth escape: everything has been saved from a wreck.
Any item that we handle during the day can be a source of joy and gratitude, some things even more so than others. I have a particular example in mind.
We have many forks in our silverware drawer. Most are inexpensive stamped steel. There is one fork, however, that stands out as having superior quality. From the heft, to the material, to it’s curvaceous form, that fork is definitely the elite of the fork drawer. I’ve taken to calling it Forkus Prime.
Forkus Prime has the uncanny ability to brighten my day. When I make my morning breakfast (not to be confused with afternoon breakfast or evening breakfast) and reach for a utensil, I receive a mini-burst of joy when I find Forkus Prime waiting for me. Moreover, I find that the joy persists beyond the moment. Even in the face of a grouchy, pregnant wife, my mood is elevated because “I got Forkus Prime!” It is amazine how I can be affected by such a simple thing.
I have considered splurging for a whole drawer full of Forkus Primes. I suspect, however, that the mini-burst of joy would become severely diluted. In plenty, I would find it exceedingly difficult to achieve Chesterton’s ideal of rejoicing in all things as though they were the only thing saved from the shipwreck. It is much better to play the lottery every time I reach into the drawer in the hope of finding the occasional Easter egg, however humble it might be.
I admit that I still have a long way to go. The ideal would be to rejoice in all the forks, not just Forkus Prime, and not just the forks, but the eggs, toast, and plate as well. I can sometimes accomplish this, provided that I’m already in a reasonably good mood.
Only Forkus Prime, however, has succeeded in changing my foul mood to fair, and for that I am thankful.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Channeling Chesterton
In the May 2010 issue of First Things, David Hart writes a review of the recently published 50 Voices of Disbelief: Why We Are Atheists. Predictably enough for a contributor to First Things, Hart is unimpressed by the arguments submitted by the new atheists for their disbelief. There was at least one paragraph that I particularly liked, in which Hart almost seems to be channeling G. K. Chesterton:
The principal source of my melancholy, however, is my firm conviction that today’s most obstreperous infidels lack the courage, moral intelligence, and thoughtfulness of their forefather in faithlessness. What I find chiefly offensive about them is not that they are skeptics or atheists; rather, it is that they are not skeptics at all and have purchased their atheism cheaply, with the sort of boorish arrogance that might make a man believe himself a great strategist because his tanks overwhelmed a town of unarmed peasants, or a great lover because he can afford the price of admission to a brothel. So long as one can choose one’s conquests in advance, taking always the paths of least resistance, one can always imagine oneself a Napoleon or a Casanova (and even better: the one without a Waterloo, the other without the clap).
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