Having a Voice

Have you ever been in a situation where your most deeply held beliefs are being attacked? For example, have you been in a class where a rather rude and loud-mouthed person is arrogantly spouting their ideas about the failings of the Church while you sit there in your seat, feeling your temperature and blood pressure steadily rising until steam may quite possibly emit from your ears and nose? Everyone has had an experience like this, what makes these experiences worse are when nobody steps up to defend the Church. What is worse to you? When you say nothing, along with everyone else, or when you say something and nobody else rises to defend with you?

This quandry of speaking out or remaining silent has plagued me this week (it seems to be a theme!). In each situation I have chosen to speak out. But is that always necessary? As I reflect back on this week, I wonder if my words did nothing else but burn bridges. Perhaps I had prideful hopes of actually changing someone's mind, but it appears that my direct efforts to do so resulted in simply a hardening of the other person's convictions.

So I take a step back and scratch my head feverishly like a rodent and wonder what to do on the matter. This is meant to be an open question to all. When do we speak, and when do we not speak? What is that apparent delicate balance of telling others what we know is right, and living what we know is right? I have no idea what to say on the matter, it puzzles me exceedingly. Thoughts and comments are more than welcome.

Of Rain, Rage, and Regret

Like so many thousands of people in the United States, I embarked on a journey with my college to Washington D.C. for the March for Life. It was the most difficult trip for me by far (and I have been to quite a few). I am used to having a hotel to stay in, access to a shower, a night of solid sleep, etc. It turns out that I had none of those things this time around. I am not saying this to ask for pity, I am saying it to make a point. If I get so grumpy, cold, and uncomfortable during my time in D.C., what urges me to go? What urges others to go who experience the same and worse than me? I cannot speak for the massive crowds, I can only speak for myself. I go because I want abortion to end. I choose to suffer the rain, express my rage, and endure the regret that my country is not doing more to protect the most helpless.

Each trip proves to be an experience for suffering. Perhaps this suffering can be sanctified by offering it in reparation for the abhorrent crime of abortion, as well for those who stubbornly support it despite the truth. It is hard to not be angry at a lot of people for supporting abortion, yet I do not think that anger will solve anything. As cheesy as it sounds, only love can conquer evil. I remember that in one of the movies about John Paul II, a young Karol was speaking to a man named Jan (pronounced "Yahn"). Jan said something to this effect "The Nazis will disappear because evil will consume itself. If they are not defeated by love, the Nazis will simply reappear in a different form."

This little saying is impossibly hard for me to understand. It suggests that in order to defeat with love, we must suffer. More lives must be lost, more embarassment and derision must be endured, etc. It is a hard thought to grasp for a rather vengeful person like myself, yet I somehow believe that it is true. And so we continually march, maybe for decades more as millions more infants die. But I do believe that the Pro-Choice movement will consume itself eventually. It may take years, but as long as there is a March for Life, I will be there grumbling in the rain.

A Death in the Family

I woke up this Sunday morning two minutes before my alarm went off. I crawled out of bed, feeling sorry for myself and grabbed some clothes to throw in the dryer to dewrinkle them. In the laundry room, I met my mother who told me in a shaky voice that she had some bad news: Her sister Cathy had died last night of a sudden heart attack. My Aunt Cathy was only 61 years old. As I write this, the reality has not quite set in yet. We all just saw her on Christmas day, two weeks ago. Almost two weeks ago, she was alive, she was breathing, she was happy. To imagine life absent of her is difficult for me, but I know it is excruciating to my mother and her siblings, and in particular to Aunt Cathy's husband, children, and grandchildren.

Nothing puts life in perspective so much as death. I found my recent concerns and worries fade away against the stark reality of her death. Nothing matters more than life in this world. Aunt Cathy is a beloved member of my mother's family, she was funny (extremely funny), and to me, there was something endearing about her. This "something" is common among all of the siblings of my mother. I can't quite describe it, but it is a common "atmosphere", a charm and loveliness that stems from their own father and mother, my deceased grandparents.

Not much else can be said from my end. Suffice it to say though, that I am amazed at the unselfish sorrow of my mother. She is not placing blame anywhere, least of all God. She suffers, and yet is good enough to know that Aunt Cathy is where she needs to be now. The thought that occurrs to me most right now is the part in the funeral Mass where it is said: "The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended...". Nothing can be more true than this.

Monday Morning Quarterbacks

Hindsight is always 20/20. There are thousands of examples of people who say "if only they had done this, this never would have happened". Or when we look at our lives, there is always something that we wish we could have changed. The truth of it, though, is that more often than not, those in charge of a sensitive situation did the best they could with the hand they were dealt, and we would have done no better if we were them. What am I thinking of in particular? I am thinking of the rather mean-spirited people who denounce Church leadership, and howl like wild monkeys that the Church should have handled the sex abuse cases better or differently. Are they right? Yes. The Church should have done better. Did the Church do better? No. Our leaders did what they thought was right at the time, and that is all we can ask for. Perhaps not all of the information was present to them at the time, or perhaps at worst, some Bishops knew but chose to do nothing, hoping the matter would resolve itself in the private sector. Was that wrong? Yes. Can we change what happened? No. But we can prepare better for the future. The howling baboons beating the ground with their palms and screeching for blood need to be caged for a time until they settle down and think for a moment. Punishment must be dealed out, and preparations must be made so it does not happen ever again. But for the vengeful ones whose thirst for blood is never quenched, I believe darker forces are at work in their sad, sick hearts.

Rebellion and Obedience Part II

I am not sure how many of you readers can relate, but during Mass, my mind wanders. The thoughts usually are concerned with wishing that I was in bed right now, wondering what I will eat after Mass, or I typically think mean things about the pesky parishoner who says their responses half a second ahead of everyone else in the congregation. But considering the Mass readings of late, and the focus on the joyful mysteries of the Rosary, this morning I was thinking of something else. I was considering the regretful tendency of some Catholics who, when they do not comprehend some teaching of the Church, choose to ignore it, disbelieve it, or at worst cut personal ties with the faith. I was thinking of Mary this morning in relation to this. In Luke's Gospel, Mary makes it clear she does not understand the message of God given through Gabriel (Luke 1:34). I would also suggest that Mary did not understand the implications of giving birth to God, made man. With all of this "against" her, she still responded with a humble "yes" to God.

Too often I find Catholics who hear of a ceratin teaching and sneer at it after having made a half-baked attempt to comprehend it. This often generalizes into a "sneer" of the Church at large and may lead to a contempt of organized religion, particularly Catholicism (at least this is what I find to be true, I hope I am wrong). Mary provides the alternate example of what we should do as faithful Catholics. Not fully understanding a teaching does not imply that we should "throw the baby out with the bathwater". Rather, we should calmly consider the teaching, and perhaps even say yes to it as Mary did to Gabriel. The Church is God's messenger to us, as Gabriel was God's messenger to Mary. I am not advocating blind faith, I am advocating trust in God and His Church. Let us not fall into the skepticism and nihilistic views of our world. If we cannot trust in our Church leadership, why are we Catholic? The beauty and simplicity of our Blessed Mother encourages us to show others that there is still hope in this world. We are to shine as a city on a hill. We are to shine especially now, during these last days of Advent.

George Bailey and Our Wonderful Lives

Among the many classic Christmas movies I watch this time of year, one of my top three favorites is "It's a Wonderful Life". The theme in this movie that I pick up on so readily each year is that George Bailey never, ever does what he wants to do in life. His dream is to travel to exotic places, and to see and do big, wonderful things. Yet time and time again his best laid plans are thwarted by external circumstances. I can't help but feel very sorry for him during the movie because he knows he is doing the right thing, but it breaks his heart to do what he should do, but does not want to do. His character is the perfect example of someone who is obedient to what is required of him for the happiness of others. The lesson of the film though, is that he clearly overlooks what he has in life and especially the good he has done for others. Because of his sacrifice, others could have a better life. In that sense George Bailey is very Christ-like. Setting aside personal ambition is so very difficult for all of us, I find myself having enormous difficulty reconciling the sacrificial life Jesus calls me (and all people) to, with my desires and plans. It does not seem fair at all to sacrifice for others, to lay down our desires so the other person can shoot up higher. As paradoxical as it sounds though, I believe that somehow, making ourselves vulnerable and sacrifical will make us happier than any person on earth who does only what they want to do. I can't say I understand this, because I don't. This is a mystery of God beyond me, but something inside me tells me it is true. Something tells me to look inside the manger and see the greatest example of sacrifice and happiness. The most mysterious paradox in history came as a baby for us. It makes no sense. Does it have to? All I know is that I am happy, that's all I permit myself to say on the matter.

Rebellion and Obedience

This year's Advent season brings with it a large amount of change for the Catholic liturgy. In my conversations with people, as well as in my observations, I have found a relatively negative perspective of the change. One guy I spoke to in particular hated the new translation because it was not inclusive, it was far too "conservative" in nature, he was of the opinion that it would cause more conflict than unity.
Unfortunately, I am finding this viewpoint to be rather common among people, or at the very least, many of the faithful express mistrust of the translation. I find it understandable that people are not privy to change, even I was slightly uncomfortable at Mass this morning.
During Mass today, as my mind was crowded with annoying thoughts of people grumbling about the new translation, I witnessed something rather simple that was a wonderful blessing to see. I was sitting near an elderly couple, who showed clear difficulty in standing and then sitting, it had to take them a good ten seconds to get to a fully upright position. When the moment came for the congregation to kneel following the Sanctus, the elderly man, who I expected to sit, proceeded to slowly get on his knees for the consecration.
An old man, who had every right in the world to sit because of his age, chose instead to sacrifice comfort for the worship of Jesus. To me, this was a sign of faith, a trust that Jesus is God. I connected this to people's lack of perspective for Jesus in the Mass. We who complain about the translation of the Mass are missing the point entirely. That man's act of faith in kneeling was perhaps about obedience to God. Obedience is a bitter pill to swallow, it takes the highest degree of humility, and in American society, obedience is not a virtue. Showing humble obedience to the Church in Her wisdom to change the translation is difficult, but it is what we are asked to do.
If we naturally rebel, as that man's body did to kneeling, may we find the strength to obey, and slowly kneel before our supreme and awesome God, who matters more than our wants.

The Bubble

I was catching up with a friend at Steak n' Shake on 38th Street late one night. We spent a solid two and a half hours chatting the night away as I hammered down spoonful after spoonful of a chocolate milkshake (it didn't take me that long to eat/drink? it). We talked about so many different things about what was happening in our lives, and I could tell we enjoyed every minute of being with each other. We watched as the night rush of loud teens, families, and a few rowdy drunk guys fizzle out into a relatively calm atmoshpere. It had been too long since I had spent time with this friend, my life was in top gear up to that moment, I was feeling pushed to the limit in so many ways. But to take time to see a dear friend made all the difference in the world that night.
That time with him was a bubble in my day. A separate entity that rose from the steaming vat of stress, hovered above it, and sustained itself in its own world for a time. It didn't necessarily pop either, leaving me to plunge back into an acidic world. It waited until my world settled a bit, and came back down to rest.
I needed a bubble. God has this tendency to know when we need a brief escape, so we can face the world with renewed vigor. So He gives us a bubble or two in order to calm our hearts.

Gratitude

Gratitude. Often when we are down, different people, maybe our friends or family, remind us to count our blessings. That seems like pretty shallow and cliched advice when our hearts have been broken, or when our hearts simply have no strength to carry on for the time being.

But if we truly, truly consider what we have to be thankful for, our hearts cannot help but want to burst with love for the gifts we have in out lives. We say we are grateful for family, friends, God, etc. But so often we say it without thinking of what they all really mean in our lives.

Spiritual Compass

It's funny how life works. I was set on one way for all my life: The Catholic Priesthood. And now, at twenty years old and a sophomore at a college seminary, I have discerned to leave formation. Now I'm stepping out into uncharted waters, "putting out into the deep" as it were. I am learning that I can never be too sure of myself as far as my direction in life. Why?

"The wind blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes..." (John 3:8)

God's will directs us in ways that are alien to us. His ways are not our ways. I am learning that if I choose to be directed and not turn my "sails" against his desire, fighting it, but letting it take me where He wills, then I derive a much greater peace.

We can never stop listening to how God calls us to live every day of our lives.

Listening in prayer and being attentive to the things that go on every day can be great indicators of the direction God is directing us to go. Docility, honesty, and a keen ear for listening are key ways to know where God wills us to go. Where will He take us next?