It's been kind of amazing to hear the glowing descriptions of Tim Russert's life and faith, and the way he kept his work and family life in balance. I always found him to be someone I enjoyed watching, both for his insightful, probing questions and for his refreshing lack of grandstanding. For the masses who didn't know him personally, a picture is emerging of someone whose faith was very important to him, and as much as it could in his position, it found its way into his work in some subtle and surprising ways. Newsweek is running an article by an Anglican friend of his whom he convinced to debate Christopher Hitchens on the air, even though he doesn't typically engage in debates (and was concerned that Hitchens would eat his lunch).
I heard a suggestion today that too much is being made of Tim Russert's faith, because it wasn't front & center in his work (in terms of content choices, presumably meaning he should have stuck with Catholic themes or somehow consistently identified himself as a Catholic on the air). I don't think that's a reasonable test to apply to someone; there is no moral imperative that a person who is a journalist by trade be a "Catholic" journalist, meaning that he only works in Catholic media or does stories with a Catholic theme. That wouldn't be any more reasonable than expecting someone to be a "Catholic" doctor, or lawyer, or mechanic. It quickly becomes an artificial distinction. We're called to bring our principles and a well-formed conscience into the workplace, no matter what we do. That's going to mean that our values and our choices should reflect Catholic teaching and values; it doesn't mean that we have to build a separate Catholic sub-culture.
A Catholic surgeon doesn't need to insist on praying with his patients or only operating on Christians to live out his faith though his work; he does it by using his skills to save lives, by making choices consistent with a Catholic world view, and by treating colleagues and patients with respect. A Catholic attorney doesn't have to only work on Church related business or restrict himself to civil liberties cases. Living his faith might mean that he turns down certain kinds of cases or restricts himself to potentially less lucrative areas of the law in order to avoid ethical dilemmas. In my case, there are radio formats in which I wouldn't work, certain kinds of commercial reads I wouldn't do, etc., were I to go back to a secular format. It's very challenging to live one's faith in a secular setting, but I also think it's were a person can often do the most good.
I choose to work in Catholic media because I feel it's where I can do the most good, and where I've had the best opportunities to talk about things that are important to me. It doesn't mean I couldn't work in a secular talk format, or go back to my roots in music radio. If I did make that kind of choice, it would be incumbent upon me to make sure that the station, format, and subject matter I chose lined up with Catholic teaching. It doesn't make one choice right and another wrong.
The remarkable thing about Tim Russert was that he lived a life that embraced his faith, and won the respect of a lot of people who didn't share his views. He worked at the highest level of an industry that often spurns and ridicules people of faith. He presided over "Meet the Press" for 20 years, and was NBC's Washington Bureau Chief. The many glowing accounts of his life have included accolades from a bishop or two, as well as news people and politicians. They respected his work and appreciated his ethics and morality. In a culture growing increasingly hostile to faith in any form, that's pretty remarkable.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Thanks, Jim
Over the weekend I converted my Sean Scales Down blog to basically a private journal. I had gotten uncomfortable with the amount of information I was putting on it; to be honest, I was embarrassed to see my entire dieting saga right there in black and white. I've sort of been struggling with what direction to go in terms of a weight-loss program, and I basically just felt stupid describing what I was going through.
I received a very nice email from Jim, who said that the blog had inspired him to try to lose some weight himself. He also said he understood why I might want to keep my thoughts about my weight loss private. I read his email this morning, and have been thinking about it off and on ever since. I was glad to hear it was actually an encouragement to someone, but I also acknowledged something I already knew to be true; I had some good reasons for starting that blog, and some bad reasons for taking it down (in a nutshell, a mixture of pride and embarrassment). This evening I decided to reset the blog to public and once again link to it from this one. I've written a rather lengthy (and honest) post about it over there.
It's really not accurate to say that this blog is the one where I write about spiritual matters and that one is where I deal with the mundane business of dieting (although it is accurate to say that dieting-related minutiae will appear there and not here). That's the joy and the ongoing struggle of embracing a genuinely Catholic worldview. Nothing is outside the scope of our faith. Nothing gets left out, glossed over, or set aside for later. The Gospel demands that our whole lives be lived pursuing love of God and love of neighbor, and that everything we do, say, eat, and drink be a reflection of that pursuit.
Blog-wise, I sort of segregated that aspect of my life for a couple reasons: 1) There would be something crushingly, mind-numbingly narcissistic of me to devote almost every post to one very personal topic, especially in the kind of detail I go into there; 2) I wanted to have a place where I could set my thoughts down about this one thing and view my progress; and 3) as I mentioned in a now-deleted post, Blogger is free. They don't charge per word or per blog, so you can just basically go nuts with it. It's kind of fun to start a short-term or single-topic blog, and as someone who's been blogging for quite a few years now, it's a good way to keep my main blog from getting overly cluttered with other stuff. Some of those blogs flourish for a short time, some develop a nice little life of their own, and some die a quick, merciful death. By the way, you'll never see the blogs that fall into that last category.
My own efforts to lose weight are part and parcel of my battle against my own concupiscence and sensuality (let's face it; most fat people are fat because we really, really like to eat). There's a reason why gluttony is one of the Seven Deadly Sins (and isn't it interesting how it's probably the only one a person can actively engage in and still be thought of fairly well by others). In this struggle, as in all of our struggles against sin, I am quite literally my own worst enemy. I saw that running as a thread through the Sean Scales Down blog, and quite frankly, it embarrassed me.
I mean, that's really the whole point, isn't it? It's what I talk about on the radio every day. It's why I've been blogging about my faith since 2002. It's the reason I became Catholic. Catholicism isn't any of the things it's often purported to be in the distorted descriptions made by those who oppose it. In a way, it's also not many of the things we Catholics represent it to be, either, at least if you judge our view of the faith by our behavior. The Catholic faith is an opportunity to look at every aspect of our lives, and every moment of our lives, and determine whether we are living in harmony with the Gospel or in opposition to it. Through the Sacraments, the faith is an ongoing opportunity to touch heaven and be touched by it. It is a chance to see the face of God and let that intersection with the divine work itself into our everyday lives.
Something as mundane (and in my case, as important) as losing weight isn't peripheral to the story of our faith journey. It goes to my need to deal with long entrenched patterns of sin, to improving my own interior life, and to honoring my commitment to my vocation as a husband and father (by keeping myself healthy, more actively participating in the life of my family as the weight becomes less of a hindrance, and by simply staying alive longer).
You're unique, so your issues aren't my issues. All I know for sure is that you do have issues; we all do. The Catholic faith doesn't take us to some far-away land where it doesn't matter how we've lived our lives, spent our money, or conducted our affairs. The more we allow heaven into our daily lives, the more important those very things become. Great saints have talked about this in a myriad of ways, from St. Therese's Little Way, to St. Josemaria's establishment of Opus Dei, to St. Francis de Sales' spiritual direction, to St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. They're really all about the same basic truth; as we respond to God's call to holiness, everything matters. The more fully we embrace his mercy, the more they matter. It's not a matter of scrupulosity, but of harmony. Scrupulosity is actually the opposite of (and a hindrance to) that harmony as one or two things are singled out and exaggerated.
We're called to live lives of consistent faith. That ain't easy.
I received a very nice email from Jim, who said that the blog had inspired him to try to lose some weight himself. He also said he understood why I might want to keep my thoughts about my weight loss private. I read his email this morning, and have been thinking about it off and on ever since. I was glad to hear it was actually an encouragement to someone, but I also acknowledged something I already knew to be true; I had some good reasons for starting that blog, and some bad reasons for taking it down (in a nutshell, a mixture of pride and embarrassment). This evening I decided to reset the blog to public and once again link to it from this one. I've written a rather lengthy (and honest) post about it over there.
It's really not accurate to say that this blog is the one where I write about spiritual matters and that one is where I deal with the mundane business of dieting (although it is accurate to say that dieting-related minutiae will appear there and not here). That's the joy and the ongoing struggle of embracing a genuinely Catholic worldview. Nothing is outside the scope of our faith. Nothing gets left out, glossed over, or set aside for later. The Gospel demands that our whole lives be lived pursuing love of God and love of neighbor, and that everything we do, say, eat, and drink be a reflection of that pursuit.
Blog-wise, I sort of segregated that aspect of my life for a couple reasons: 1) There would be something crushingly, mind-numbingly narcissistic of me to devote almost every post to one very personal topic, especially in the kind of detail I go into there; 2) I wanted to have a place where I could set my thoughts down about this one thing and view my progress; and 3) as I mentioned in a now-deleted post, Blogger is free. They don't charge per word or per blog, so you can just basically go nuts with it. It's kind of fun to start a short-term or single-topic blog, and as someone who's been blogging for quite a few years now, it's a good way to keep my main blog from getting overly cluttered with other stuff. Some of those blogs flourish for a short time, some develop a nice little life of their own, and some die a quick, merciful death. By the way, you'll never see the blogs that fall into that last category.
My own efforts to lose weight are part and parcel of my battle against my own concupiscence and sensuality (let's face it; most fat people are fat because we really, really like to eat). There's a reason why gluttony is one of the Seven Deadly Sins (and isn't it interesting how it's probably the only one a person can actively engage in and still be thought of fairly well by others). In this struggle, as in all of our struggles against sin, I am quite literally my own worst enemy. I saw that running as a thread through the Sean Scales Down blog, and quite frankly, it embarrassed me.
I mean, that's really the whole point, isn't it? It's what I talk about on the radio every day. It's why I've been blogging about my faith since 2002. It's the reason I became Catholic. Catholicism isn't any of the things it's often purported to be in the distorted descriptions made by those who oppose it. In a way, it's also not many of the things we Catholics represent it to be, either, at least if you judge our view of the faith by our behavior. The Catholic faith is an opportunity to look at every aspect of our lives, and every moment of our lives, and determine whether we are living in harmony with the Gospel or in opposition to it. Through the Sacraments, the faith is an ongoing opportunity to touch heaven and be touched by it. It is a chance to see the face of God and let that intersection with the divine work itself into our everyday lives.
Something as mundane (and in my case, as important) as losing weight isn't peripheral to the story of our faith journey. It goes to my need to deal with long entrenched patterns of sin, to improving my own interior life, and to honoring my commitment to my vocation as a husband and father (by keeping myself healthy, more actively participating in the life of my family as the weight becomes less of a hindrance, and by simply staying alive longer).
You're unique, so your issues aren't my issues. All I know for sure is that you do have issues; we all do. The Catholic faith doesn't take us to some far-away land where it doesn't matter how we've lived our lives, spent our money, or conducted our affairs. The more we allow heaven into our daily lives, the more important those very things become. Great saints have talked about this in a myriad of ways, from St. Therese's Little Way, to St. Josemaria's establishment of Opus Dei, to St. Francis de Sales' spiritual direction, to St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. They're really all about the same basic truth; as we respond to God's call to holiness, everything matters. The more fully we embrace his mercy, the more they matter. It's not a matter of scrupulosity, but of harmony. Scrupulosity is actually the opposite of (and a hindrance to) that harmony as one or two things are singled out and exaggerated.
We're called to live lives of consistent faith. That ain't easy.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Another opportunity to develop the virtue of patience
NOTE: I'm leaving this post up, but it turns out the premise for the thing was all wrong. In its update, the airline used a different desgination for the same airport. The schedule appears to be exactly the same, so I'm now kind of mystified as to what inconvenience they were apologizing for...
I just got an email from Northwest Airlines. The good news is that they apologize for any inconvenience they've caused; the bad news is that a confirmed reservation for my wife and daughter (to attend a relative's wedding) was changed. The departure airport was changed from the metro airport ten minutes from our house to a teensy-weensie municipal airport an hour away. The flight leaves at 6:30 AM, so that means we'll have to leave the house at around 4:45. Other options would be to stay the night near the airport or use some kind of shuttle; I'm guessing the room would actually end up being cheaper (although you'd still have to factor in the cost of gas).
Pretty clever there, Northwest Airlines! Rather than retroactively raising the price of our ticket(which would probably be, you know, illegal), you're passing the cost on to us! Presumably you save money on this deal (I'm guessing by running a smaller plane out of a smaller airport, in response to reduced demand). At the same time, you've put us in a position where we're having to spend more to get to the airport. You've quite literally passed the financial burden for this flight onto almost every person who will be taking it. You're a clever bunch of heartless corporate weasels, you are.
Editor's note: "Weasels" was not the first word that came into my head, but it's far more blog-friendly than what I'm actually thinking right now.
Well, at least my daughter won't have any trouble shifting from central to pacific time on the other end...she'll be tired enough to hit the sack at her usual bedtime, local time.
This is where I'm reminded that we are encouraged to "offer up" our suffering, large and small, and unite it to the suffering of Christ:
Sometimes I feel like offering up the smaller irritations of life is almost an insult to the whole idea of entering into Christ's passion; I know that when I feel that way, I'm actually looking at the whole thing backwards. The more that we actively, deliberately unite our suffering to his--from the mundane to the profound--the more our minds are on him in those moments. As we grow in holiness this should become a more frequent response, not a less frequent one. In this situation, there will be a cost in terms of inconvenience, frustration, gas, and fatigue. It's going to be a perfect opportunity.
I just got an email from Northwest Airlines. The good news is that they apologize for any inconvenience they've caused; the bad news is that a confirmed reservation for my wife and daughter (to attend a relative's wedding) was changed. The departure airport was changed from the metro airport ten minutes from our house to a teensy-weensie municipal airport an hour away. The flight leaves at 6:30 AM, so that means we'll have to leave the house at around 4:45. Other options would be to stay the night near the airport or use some kind of shuttle; I'm guessing the room would actually end up being cheaper (although you'd still have to factor in the cost of gas).
Pretty clever there, Northwest Airlines! Rather than retroactively raising the price of our ticket(which would probably be, you know, illegal), you're passing the cost on to us! Presumably you save money on this deal (I'm guessing by running a smaller plane out of a smaller airport, in response to reduced demand). At the same time, you've put us in a position where we're having to spend more to get to the airport. You've quite literally passed the financial burden for this flight onto almost every person who will be taking it. You're a clever bunch of heartless corporate weasels, you are.
Editor's note: "Weasels" was not the first word that came into my head, but it's far more blog-friendly than what I'm actually thinking right now.
Well, at least my daughter won't have any trouble shifting from central to pacific time on the other end...she'll be tired enough to hit the sack at her usual bedtime, local time.
This is where I'm reminded that we are encouraged to "offer up" our suffering, large and small, and unite it to the suffering of Christ:
1505 Moved by so much suffering Christ not only allows himself to be touched by the sick, but he makes their miseries his own: "He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.".112 But he did not heal all the sick. His healings were signs of the coming of the Kingdom of God. They announced a more radical healing: the victory over sin and death through his Passover. On the cross Christ took upon himself the whole weight of evil and took away the "sin of the world,".113 of which illness is only a consequence. By his passion and death on the cross Christ has given a new meaning to suffering: it can henceforth configure us to him and unite us with his redemptive Passion.
Sometimes I feel like offering up the smaller irritations of life is almost an insult to the whole idea of entering into Christ's passion; I know that when I feel that way, I'm actually looking at the whole thing backwards. The more that we actively, deliberately unite our suffering to his--from the mundane to the profound--the more our minds are on him in those moments. As we grow in holiness this should become a more frequent response, not a less frequent one. In this situation, there will be a cost in terms of inconvenience, frustration, gas, and fatigue. It's going to be a perfect opportunity.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Ora et labora
First off, if anyone can explain to me why my Blogger toolbar and sign-in page are sometimes showing up in Chinese, that would be great. It's not that I have anything against the Chinese language (it's alternately beautiful and frightening, the latter being the case when spoken in loud tones between our guide and a cab driver; when we asked her what was going on, she said, "We're just talking"), it's just that I can't read it. That's why I tend to prefer, you know...English. If it were stuck on Spanish I'd still be able to find my way around, but no joy with the Chinese characters.
Now on to the main event, from the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
I love that! The quote is from St. Benedict, the father of monasticism. Pope Benedict VI takes both his name and his motto from St. Benedict. "Ora et Labora" is Latin for "Pray and work."
It's a balance, and it's possible to err to either extreme. One one hand, I can succumb to the sin of pride, essentially saying that I don't need God's help because I've got it handled on my own. The other extreme is the sin of presumption; when it comes to salvation, presumption is, well...presuming that God will save me no matter what I do (sin up a storm, never repent, etc.). We can (and do) exhibit presumption in lots of smaller ways, including praying for things without making any effort to work for them. If I pray that God will give me a job as a surgeon, even though I never went to medical school, will he answer that prayer in the affirmative? I'm thinking it's doubtful.
I got to thinking about that with my current focus on losing weight. Should I pray for God's help in this area? Absolutely. Can I pray for his help, eat the way I always have, and expect a good result? The First Law of Thermodynamics says no. Matter is changed, but not destroyed; my body either changes it into energy to keep me rolling, or stores it for future energy needs in the form of fat.
I can pray to lose weight, but unless I actually work at it, it's not going to happen. In that particular situation, I think the most prudent prayer is one asking God to give me the fortitude to do the things I need to do, rather than asking him to bend the laws of physics on my behalf. The prayer is important--vital, really--and without it I don't think I would have gotten as far as I have in losing weight this year. Without the work, though, I can guarantee you it wouldn't have happened.
There's another principle at work here, and one we see with a lot of the "lose weight quickly and painlessly" programs, medical interventions, and downright scams (some of which I've tried). Along with the loss of pounds has to come discipline; that's only going to be attained through saying no to one's appetites and taking positive steps in the right direction. That's true of most things in our lives, including spiritual development. The process itself, and difficulty inherent in it, gives me the strength I need to continue. That's the way it's supposed to be.
Now on to the main event, from the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
2834 "Pray and work." "Pray as if everything depended on God and work as if everything depended on you." Even when we have done our work, the food we receive is still a gift from our Father; it is good to ask him for it and to thank him, as Christian families do when saying grace at meals.
I love that! The quote is from St. Benedict, the father of monasticism. Pope Benedict VI takes both his name and his motto from St. Benedict. "Ora et Labora" is Latin for "Pray and work."
It's a balance, and it's possible to err to either extreme. One one hand, I can succumb to the sin of pride, essentially saying that I don't need God's help because I've got it handled on my own. The other extreme is the sin of presumption; when it comes to salvation, presumption is, well...presuming that God will save me no matter what I do (sin up a storm, never repent, etc.). We can (and do) exhibit presumption in lots of smaller ways, including praying for things without making any effort to work for them. If I pray that God will give me a job as a surgeon, even though I never went to medical school, will he answer that prayer in the affirmative? I'm thinking it's doubtful.
I got to thinking about that with my current focus on losing weight. Should I pray for God's help in this area? Absolutely. Can I pray for his help, eat the way I always have, and expect a good result? The First Law of Thermodynamics says no. Matter is changed, but not destroyed; my body either changes it into energy to keep me rolling, or stores it for future energy needs in the form of fat.
I can pray to lose weight, but unless I actually work at it, it's not going to happen. In that particular situation, I think the most prudent prayer is one asking God to give me the fortitude to do the things I need to do, rather than asking him to bend the laws of physics on my behalf. The prayer is important--vital, really--and without it I don't think I would have gotten as far as I have in losing weight this year. Without the work, though, I can guarantee you it wouldn't have happened.
There's another principle at work here, and one we see with a lot of the "lose weight quickly and painlessly" programs, medical interventions, and downright scams (some of which I've tried). Along with the loss of pounds has to come discipline; that's only going to be attained through saying no to one's appetites and taking positive steps in the right direction. That's true of most things in our lives, including spiritual development. The process itself, and difficulty inherent in it, gives me the strength I need to continue. That's the way it's supposed to be.
1805 Four virtues play a pivotal role and accordingly are called "cardinal"; all the others are grouped around them. They are: prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. "If anyone loves righteousness, [Wisdom's] labors are virtues; for she teaches temperance and prudence, justice, and courage."64 These virtues are praised under other names in many passages of Scripture.
1806 Prudence is the virtue that disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it; "the prudent man looks where he is going."65 "Keep sane and sober for your prayers."66 Prudence is "right reason in action," writes St. Thomas Aquinas, following Aristotle.67 It is not to be confused with timidity or fear, nor with duplicity or dissimulation. It is called auriga virtutum (the charioteer of the virtues); it guides the other virtues by setting rule and measure. It is prudence that immediately guides the judgment of conscience. The prudent man determines and directs his conduct in accordance with this judgment. With the help of this virtue we apply moral principles to particular cases without error and overcome doubts about the good to achieve and the evil to avoid.
1807 Justice is the moral virtue that consists in the constant and firm will to give their due to God and neighbor. Justice toward God is called the "virtue of religion." Justice toward men disposes one to respect the rights of each and to establish in human relationships the harmony that promotes equity with regard to persons and to the common good. The just man, often mentioned in the Sacred Scriptures, is distinguished by habitual right thinking and the uprightness of his conduct toward his neighbor. "You shall not be partial to the poor or defer to the great, but in righteousness shall you judge your neighbor."68 "Masters, treat your slaves justly and fairly, knowing that you also have a Master in heaven."69
1808 Fortitude is the moral virtue that ensures firmness in difficulties and constancy in the pursuit of the good. It strengthens the resolve to resist temptations and to overcome obstacles in the moral life. The virtue of fortitude enables one to conquer fear, even fear of death, and to face trials and persecutions. It disposes one even to renounce and sacrifice his life in defense of a just cause. "The Lord is my strength and my song."70 "In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."71
1809 Temperance is the moral virtue that moderates the attraction of pleasures and provides balance in the use of created goods. It ensures the will's mastery over instincts and keeps desires within the limits of what is honorable. The temperate person directs the sensitive appetites toward what is good and maintains a healthy discretion: "Do not follow your inclination and strength, walking according to the desires of your heart."72 Temperance is often praised in the Old Testament: "Do not follow your base desires, but restrain your appetites."73 In the New Testament it is called "moderation" or "sobriety." We ought "to live sober, upright, and godly lives in this world."74
To live well is nothing other than to love God with all one's heart, with all one's soul and with all one's efforts; from this it comes about that love is kept whole and uncorrupted (through temperance). No misfortune can disturb it (and this is fortitude). It obeys only [God] (and this is justice), and is careful in discerning things, so as not to be surprised by deceit or trickery (and this is prudence).75
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Please continue to hold
I don't like to brag, but I am a loyal customer of the wireless telephone company with the lowest level of customer satisfaction in the history of mankind. The Roman Empire would have scored better on a customer survey than these guys. I'm happy with my basic service, but I'd pretty much rather chew off an arm than ask Customer Service for anything.
Not only have I been a customer for over three years, but a couple months ago I renewed my contract with them! I bought two brand-new phones and signed on for two more years of heaven-on-earth in the form of my family plan. Why, you ask? Did I suffer some sort of trauma that clouded my judgment? Do I view calling their customer service center as some sort of extreme sport, like base jumping?
No, the answer is even more sad and inexplicable. After a few positive experiences with Customer Service (which, as it turned out, would later spawn a series of less-than-positive experiences), I thought they were getting better.
I really, really did.
Well, to quote Marlin the clown fish (which you can do if, like me, you have a preschooler), "Good feeling gone."
The specific details of my two latest issues (which, if left unresolved, would have set me back $300) are too boring for words. Suffice it to say that they involved an early termination fee that was misapplied (and eventually cancelled) and a rebate that was erroneously denied (and then summarily approved).
The basic dance is this:
I call Customer Service and tell them what I want to do. They say, Yes sir, we can do that, no problem!
I say, Is this going to cost me extra?
They say, Oh, no, sir! You're a very valuable customer because you pay your bill on time! Have I resolved your issue today? And would you like to add another line of service you don't need, a data plan for your blind, elderly mother who can barely dial her phone, or maybe some text messaging for your dog?
And then things go horribly, horribly wrong. Sometimes it's a little wrong (like getting charged for long-distance calls on a flat rate plan), and sometimes it's a lot wrong (like having a $100 rebate declined due to a "system error.") I've actually never had them not fix things, but it always takes at least one call, and sometimes as many as six or seven, to get it fixed. The long distance issue went on for about eight months before it was finally resolved.
Me like italics.
I have developed a passionate dislike for calling Customer Service. I can feel my jaw clenching and my heartbeat picking up before I even get connected. I'm spoiling for a fight before I even get on the phone with these folks, because it seems like I generally have to explain things five or six times before a light goes on somewhere, and the problem suddenly becomes fixable.
Tonight I had to hold for about half an hour, so I had plenty of time to get tense. I made a commitment to myself that I would speak calmly and patiently to the CSR, since he or she didn't create the situation in the first place. I also resolved that no matter his or her level of apparent competence, I would try to still apply that whole pesky Golden Rule thing that Jesus was always going on about (and at the most inconvenient moments).
My spiritual director gave me some great advice a while back. St. Francis de Sales was not only an amazing man and great spiritual director, but someone who was humble about his own faults. One of them was anger. He said that to conquer anger and irritation, one very effective approach is to be overly gentle (almost to an exaggerated degree) in one's everyday speech and manner. Although I try to remember, this is not exactly something that has become habitual for me.
After I got off the phone with the Customer Service guy (who inexplicably fixed my problem with no explanation from me at all), I realized that's what I'd been unconsciously doing. I'm not exactly ready to give Mother Teresa a run for her money, but it was definitely progress.
So, I'm starting to see another reason I've chained myself to the world's worst wireless company for the next two years. It's actually good for my soul.
Not only have I been a customer for over three years, but a couple months ago I renewed my contract with them! I bought two brand-new phones and signed on for two more years of heaven-on-earth in the form of my family plan. Why, you ask? Did I suffer some sort of trauma that clouded my judgment? Do I view calling their customer service center as some sort of extreme sport, like base jumping?
No, the answer is even more sad and inexplicable. After a few positive experiences with Customer Service (which, as it turned out, would later spawn a series of less-than-positive experiences), I thought they were getting better.
I really, really did.
Well, to quote Marlin the clown fish (which you can do if, like me, you have a preschooler), "Good feeling gone."
The specific details of my two latest issues (which, if left unresolved, would have set me back $300) are too boring for words. Suffice it to say that they involved an early termination fee that was misapplied (and eventually cancelled) and a rebate that was erroneously denied (and then summarily approved).
The basic dance is this:
I call Customer Service and tell them what I want to do. They say, Yes sir, we can do that, no problem!
I say, Is this going to cost me extra?
They say, Oh, no, sir! You're a very valuable customer because you pay your bill on time! Have I resolved your issue today? And would you like to add another line of service you don't need, a data plan for your blind, elderly mother who can barely dial her phone, or maybe some text messaging for your dog?
And then things go horribly, horribly wrong. Sometimes it's a little wrong (like getting charged for long-distance calls on a flat rate plan), and sometimes it's a lot wrong (like having a $100 rebate declined due to a "system error.") I've actually never had them not fix things, but it always takes at least one call, and sometimes as many as six or seven, to get it fixed. The long distance issue went on for about eight months before it was finally resolved.
Me like italics.
I have developed a passionate dislike for calling Customer Service. I can feel my jaw clenching and my heartbeat picking up before I even get connected. I'm spoiling for a fight before I even get on the phone with these folks, because it seems like I generally have to explain things five or six times before a light goes on somewhere, and the problem suddenly becomes fixable.
Tonight I had to hold for about half an hour, so I had plenty of time to get tense. I made a commitment to myself that I would speak calmly and patiently to the CSR, since he or she didn't create the situation in the first place. I also resolved that no matter his or her level of apparent competence, I would try to still apply that whole pesky Golden Rule thing that Jesus was always going on about (and at the most inconvenient moments).
My spiritual director gave me some great advice a while back. St. Francis de Sales was not only an amazing man and great spiritual director, but someone who was humble about his own faults. One of them was anger. He said that to conquer anger and irritation, one very effective approach is to be overly gentle (almost to an exaggerated degree) in one's everyday speech and manner. Although I try to remember, this is not exactly something that has become habitual for me.
After I got off the phone with the Customer Service guy (who inexplicably fixed my problem with no explanation from me at all), I realized that's what I'd been unconsciously doing. I'm not exactly ready to give Mother Teresa a run for her money, but it was definitely progress.
So, I'm starting to see another reason I've chained myself to the world's worst wireless company for the next two years. It's actually good for my soul.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Don't ask me to explain this
I mentioned in a previous post that I've discovered the joys of Facebook. It's allowed me to reconnect with a lot of folks I haven't talked to in a while (most of them are people I haven't talked to for several years, so it's pretty cool in that regard). It also prompted me, through a series of events far to bizarre and tedious to explain, to spend an hour this afternoon writing this list:
Top Ten Signs your Parish Priest Might be a Borg Drone
10. Uses the word "viniculum" in casual conversation
9. Claims his family name, Unimatrix, is French
8. Lectors won't exchange the Sign of Peace with him; they don't believe Charlie's assimilation was a "coincidence"
7. The parish's new voicemail system tells callers, "You may enter your party's extension at any time, or simply stay on the line and wait for nanoprobes to rewrite your DNA"
6. Every week it's the same announcement: "Scrip will replace standard currency for all household purchases; resistance is futile"
5. In the bulletin, lists the Friday night fundraiser as "Borgo"
4. Insists his head is removable
3. Frequently asks the choir to sing "A Mighty Fortress is Our Cube"
2. After the Benediction, likes to finish up with an anecdote about a culture he's assmilated
1. In his homilies, frequently quotes an obscure Church historian named Locutus
I'm not suggesting a Borg drone could or should be a parish priest. Theologically speaking, there would be a number of pretty serious impediments. I'm just offering this list as a public service. If you notice any of the above telltale signs, give Starfleet Command a call.
Top Ten Signs your Parish Priest Might be a Borg Drone
10. Uses the word "viniculum" in casual conversation
9. Claims his family name, Unimatrix, is French
8. Lectors won't exchange the Sign of Peace with him; they don't believe Charlie's assimilation was a "coincidence"
7. The parish's new voicemail system tells callers, "You may enter your party's extension at any time, or simply stay on the line and wait for nanoprobes to rewrite your DNA"
6. Every week it's the same announcement: "Scrip will replace standard currency for all household purchases; resistance is futile"
5. In the bulletin, lists the Friday night fundraiser as "Borgo"
4. Insists his head is removable
3. Frequently asks the choir to sing "A Mighty Fortress is Our Cube"
2. After the Benediction, likes to finish up with an anecdote about a culture he's assmilated
1. In his homilies, frequently quotes an obscure Church historian named Locutus
I'm not suggesting a Borg drone could or should be a parish priest. Theologically speaking, there would be a number of pretty serious impediments. I'm just offering this list as a public service. If you notice any of the above telltale signs, give Starfleet Command a call.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Hug your kid a little tighter
Christian pop star Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter died yesterday when a sibling accidentally backed over her with the family car. It happened in their driveway with other family members right there.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I heard the news this morning. The Chapmans were an inspiration for us, and one of the reasons we ended up adopting from China. I've spoken to him a few times, but I can't really say I know him. I do know a lot of record industry people who have worked closely with him, and he's just a really decent, caring guy. They're a good family, sincere Christians, and people who have really tried to make a difference in the world. It's the classic "Why do bad things happen to good people" scenario, compounded infinitely by the tragic circumstances.
We're the same age--45, and their daughter Maria (adopted from China) was the same age as our daughter Julie (also adopted from China). My wife and I each (separately) talked with Julie about what happened, and about some other stories we've heard of the same thing happening in eerily similar circumstances. A few months ago here in Wisconsin, a state lawmaker ran over and killed his own granddaughter, not realizing she had made her way into the driveway as he was leaving. These aren't negectful parents, which in a way makes it even worse. They'll spend the rest of their lives haunted by what they wish they'd done.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I heard the news this morning. The Chapmans were an inspiration for us, and one of the reasons we ended up adopting from China. I've spoken to him a few times, but I can't really say I know him. I do know a lot of record industry people who have worked closely with him, and he's just a really decent, caring guy. They're a good family, sincere Christians, and people who have really tried to make a difference in the world. It's the classic "Why do bad things happen to good people" scenario, compounded infinitely by the tragic circumstances.
We're the same age--45, and their daughter Maria (adopted from China) was the same age as our daughter Julie (also adopted from China). My wife and I each (separately) talked with Julie about what happened, and about some other stories we've heard of the same thing happening in eerily similar circumstances. A few months ago here in Wisconsin, a state lawmaker ran over and killed his own granddaughter, not realizing she had made her way into the driveway as he was leaving. These aren't negectful parents, which in a way makes it even worse. They'll spend the rest of their lives haunted by what they wish they'd done.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Beating OPEC
So, crude oil just hit $135 a barrel...they're saying that within two years it could get to $200. At the rate we're going, we might not have to wait two years. That could push gas close to eight bucks a gallon.
I was reading a news article about telecommuting, and how computers, the Internet, and stuff like the new generation of teleconferencing has made working from home an extremely viable option for more and more people (and and extremely cost-effective approach for employers). I wonder if that's the wave of the future; the high-tech might end up going into supporting lives that involve a lot less travel, rather than coming with new ways to get from point A to point B.
I'm very fortunate to live just a few miles from my office. We chose something close because I work such early hours, and because we really liked the community we're in. We had looked at a town about 25 miles from work, and we're both extremely glad we didn't move there. We'd be spending a couple hundred bucks a month more on gas at this point.
I started commuting to work by bicycle this week...it's only adding about ten minutes to my commute each way, and it's good to get the exercise. I spent a bunch of time over the weekend tuning up my bike, installing lights, etc. The first day I thought that riding the bike seemed harder than I would have thought it should be, but it was my first ride of the season. Yesterday and today it seemed like the ride home was especially difficult (it's a slight upward incline all the way home, and I had a pretty significant headwind both days). Still, it seemed like I was slowing to a crawl on the way home.
This afternoon I took a look at my bike to see if everything was working. I picked up the front end and gave the front wheel a spin; lo and behold, the brake was dragging on the front wheel! It's actually been braking slightly the whole time I've been riding for the past three days!
Moron. Right here.
I made some adjustments, and I'm guessing the ride home will be a bit easier tomorrow...
I was reading a news article about telecommuting, and how computers, the Internet, and stuff like the new generation of teleconferencing has made working from home an extremely viable option for more and more people (and and extremely cost-effective approach for employers). I wonder if that's the wave of the future; the high-tech might end up going into supporting lives that involve a lot less travel, rather than coming with new ways to get from point A to point B.
I'm very fortunate to live just a few miles from my office. We chose something close because I work such early hours, and because we really liked the community we're in. We had looked at a town about 25 miles from work, and we're both extremely glad we didn't move there. We'd be spending a couple hundred bucks a month more on gas at this point.
I started commuting to work by bicycle this week...it's only adding about ten minutes to my commute each way, and it's good to get the exercise. I spent a bunch of time over the weekend tuning up my bike, installing lights, etc. The first day I thought that riding the bike seemed harder than I would have thought it should be, but it was my first ride of the season. Yesterday and today it seemed like the ride home was especially difficult (it's a slight upward incline all the way home, and I had a pretty significant headwind both days). Still, it seemed like I was slowing to a crawl on the way home.
This afternoon I took a look at my bike to see if everything was working. I picked up the front end and gave the front wheel a spin; lo and behold, the brake was dragging on the front wheel! It's actually been braking slightly the whole time I've been riding for the past three days!
Moron. Right here.
I made some adjustments, and I'm guessing the ride home will be a bit easier tomorrow...
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sorry
I hate reading blog entries that consist of apologies and excuses for not posting blog entries. So, for the sake of brevity I'll just say: sick for a week (off work for three days, an eternity for me), recovering for a week, sick again while doing our pledge drive for a week. That pretty much brings me current.
Faith without works
The readings for the daily mass are going through the book of James right now. It's got that whole wacky faith vs. works thing going on. Here's last Friday's reading:
You can read this passage in the King James, the New American Standard, the NIV, and it says the same thing. "I will show you my faith by my works...faith without works is dead." They all say it; short of intentionally sabotaging the translation, they have to. That's what the original says.
Catholics and Protestants are actually a lot closer to one another on this issue than many realize (or at least would want to admit). I know, I know...Catholicism is a works-based religious system; so say my in-laws. Not to burst any one's bubble here, but the Church is very clear that without God's grace, and specifically without the saving work of the cross, none of us would get to heaven. It's also clear that what it means by "grace" is the same thing the average evangelical, Calvinist, Reformed, or (pretty much you name it) Protestant means. Grace is God's unmerited favor. We don't deserve it, and we can't earn it.
Yes, Catholics believe that.
At the same time, I don't know a good Calvinist who isn't a stickler about the fact that you have to walk the talk. You can talk about grace alone through faith alone 'til the cows come home, but I don't know many people who would look at someone professing Christ and blithely committing what we Catholics would call a mortal sin (you know, murderin', thievin', adulteratin'...the bad stuff) and not have a big, big problem with it.
I knew a Baptist pastor (a very good man) who ran a rescue mission and was a staunch Calvinist. He preached grace from the pulpit, but he also expected accountability from the men and women in his program. For a long-term resident, a relapse resulted in loss of all privileges and 30 days of "house arrest," which looked suspiciously like...well, penance. The program was voluntary, so the house arrest only meant something if the person cooperated with the detention. Otherwise, he or she was free to walk out the front door. My Calvinist friend expected not only contrition from the people in his program, but both penance and reparation. Very, very interesting.
The longer I walk down this road as a Catholic, the more clearly I see what I initially glimpsed in 2001; Catholicism is deeply scriptural. Not only is the liturgy rooted in scripture, but so are our teachings. It's not proof-texting to point to the scriptures and say that baptism saves you, or that works are necessary (along with the appropriation of God's grace) for our ultimate salvation. It's right in there, in context, as clear as day.
Reading 1
Jas 2:14-24, 26
What good is it, my brothers and sisters,
if someone says he has faith but does not have works?
Can that faith save him?
If a brother or sister has nothing to wear
and has no food for the day,
and one of you says to them,
“Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,”
but you do not give them the necessities of the body,
what good is it?
So also faith of itself,
if it does not have works, is dead.
Indeed someone might say,
“You have faith and I have works.”
Demonstrate your faith to me without works,
and I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works.
You believe that God is one.
You do well.
Even the demons believe that and tremble.
Do you want proof, you ignoramus, that faith without works is useless?
Was not Abraham our father justified by works
when he offered his son Isaac upon the altar?
You see that faith was active along with his works,
and faith was completed by the works.
Thus the Scripture was fulfilled that says,
Abraham believed God,
and it was credited to him as righteousness,
and he was called the friend of God.
See how a person is justified by works and not by faith alone.
For just as a body without a spirit is dead,
so also faith without works is dead.
You can read this passage in the King James, the New American Standard, the NIV, and it says the same thing. "I will show you my faith by my works...faith without works is dead." They all say it; short of intentionally sabotaging the translation, they have to. That's what the original says.
Catholics and Protestants are actually a lot closer to one another on this issue than many realize (or at least would want to admit). I know, I know...Catholicism is a works-based religious system; so say my in-laws. Not to burst any one's bubble here, but the Church is very clear that without God's grace, and specifically without the saving work of the cross, none of us would get to heaven. It's also clear that what it means by "grace" is the same thing the average evangelical, Calvinist, Reformed, or (pretty much you name it) Protestant means. Grace is God's unmerited favor. We don't deserve it, and we can't earn it.
Yes, Catholics believe that.
At the same time, I don't know a good Calvinist who isn't a stickler about the fact that you have to walk the talk. You can talk about grace alone through faith alone 'til the cows come home, but I don't know many people who would look at someone professing Christ and blithely committing what we Catholics would call a mortal sin (you know, murderin', thievin', adulteratin'...the bad stuff) and not have a big, big problem with it.
I knew a Baptist pastor (a very good man) who ran a rescue mission and was a staunch Calvinist. He preached grace from the pulpit, but he also expected accountability from the men and women in his program. For a long-term resident, a relapse resulted in loss of all privileges and 30 days of "house arrest," which looked suspiciously like...well, penance. The program was voluntary, so the house arrest only meant something if the person cooperated with the detention. Otherwise, he or she was free to walk out the front door. My Calvinist friend expected not only contrition from the people in his program, but both penance and reparation. Very, very interesting.
The longer I walk down this road as a Catholic, the more clearly I see what I initially glimpsed in 2001; Catholicism is deeply scriptural. Not only is the liturgy rooted in scripture, but so are our teachings. It's not proof-texting to point to the scriptures and say that baptism saves you, or that works are necessary (along with the appropriation of God's grace) for our ultimate salvation. It's right in there, in context, as clear as day.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Why "Everything Proves It"
I kicked around a few names for my new blog before settling on this one. A few were based on song lyrics (my favorite was "Nod Over Coffee," the title of a song by Mark Heard), but "Everything Proves It," and the G.K. Chesterton quote on which it is based, ended up being the front runner.
Here's the full quote, from G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy:
Chesterton's explanation of this "huge helplessness" goes to the heart of why I blog at all, and why I do what I do for a living. It describes (much better than I've been able to) why I often feel that explaining Catholicism to skeptics (and even sometimes to Catholics) is a nearly hopeless task--all the more reason we should never stop doing it. It also is the reason that the two sources I quote most often--on and off the air--are the Bible and the Catechism. When dealing with something this complicated, it's best to keep it simple, and to know one's limits.
In 2003, a friend sent me an essay by Dale Alquist of the American Chesterton Society, in which he used the "everything proves it" line as a launching pad to talk about what's right with the Church. In addition to motivating me to purchase Orthodoxy, the quote helped me to understand why talking about my new found faith had proven so difficult, especially in the face of the sort of drive-by questions I often got ("What about the verse that says there's only one mediator between God and man? Don't you know that God will forgive your sins when you go to him directly? Why do you Catholics pray to dead people?").
To explain devotion to Mary, one has to explain the Communion of Saints. To explain the Sacrament of Confession, one has to explain the ministerial priesthood (that's also helpful in responding to the "Call no man father" objection) and its roots in scripture. To explain the Immaculate Conception, one has to explain Sacred Tradition and its relationship to the Bible. You just can't do that in 30 seconds.
Yes, Catholicism is complicated. It is wonderfully, brilliantly complex, as great minds (as well as people like me) have contemplated its mysteries for two millennia. It is also a breathtakingly simple love story, as God strives to make himself known amid the chaos we relentlessly choose for ourselves.
Seven and a half years into my journey, I'm just peeling off the outer layers of this thing. The more I learn, the more I understand that I've barely scratched the surface. My favorite Catholic book is the Catechism; reading it daily helps to shape my world view, and constantly brings me back to what Chesterton said. The truth and beauty of Catholicism isn't found in one thing.
I find it everywhere, all the time...because everything proves it.
Here's the full quote, from G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy:
When once one believes in a creed, one is proud of its complexity, as scientists are proud of the complexity of science. It shows how rich it is in discoveries. If it is right at all, it is a compliment to say that it's elaborately right. A stick might fit a hole or a stone a hollow by accident. But a key and a lock are both complex. And if a key fits a lock, you know it is the right key.
But this involved accuracy of the thing makes it very difficult to do what I now have to do, to describe this accumulation of truth. It is very hard for a man to defend anything of which he is entirely convinced. It is comparatively easy when he is only partially convinced. He is partially convinced because he has found this or that proof of the thing, and he can expound it. But a man is not really convinced of a philosophic theory when he finds that something proves it. He is only really convinced when he finds that everything proves it. And the more converging reasons he finds pointing to this conviction, the more bewildered he is if asked suddenly to sum them up. Thus, if one asked an ordinary intelligent man, on the spur of the moment, "Why do you prefer civilization to savagery?" he would look wildly round at object after object, and would only be able to answer vaguely, "Why, there is that bookcase . . . and the coals in the coal-scuttle . . . and pianos . . . and policemen." The whole case for civilization is that the case for it is complex. It has done so many things. But that very multiplicity of proof which ought to make reply overwhelming makes reply impossible.
There is, therefore, about all complete conviction a kind of huge helplessness.
Chesterton's explanation of this "huge helplessness" goes to the heart of why I blog at all, and why I do what I do for a living. It describes (much better than I've been able to) why I often feel that explaining Catholicism to skeptics (and even sometimes to Catholics) is a nearly hopeless task--all the more reason we should never stop doing it. It also is the reason that the two sources I quote most often--on and off the air--are the Bible and the Catechism. When dealing with something this complicated, it's best to keep it simple, and to know one's limits.
In 2003, a friend sent me an essay by Dale Alquist of the American Chesterton Society, in which he used the "everything proves it" line as a launching pad to talk about what's right with the Church. In addition to motivating me to purchase Orthodoxy, the quote helped me to understand why talking about my new found faith had proven so difficult, especially in the face of the sort of drive-by questions I often got ("What about the verse that says there's only one mediator between God and man? Don't you know that God will forgive your sins when you go to him directly? Why do you Catholics pray to dead people?").
To explain devotion to Mary, one has to explain the Communion of Saints. To explain the Sacrament of Confession, one has to explain the ministerial priesthood (that's also helpful in responding to the "Call no man father" objection) and its roots in scripture. To explain the Immaculate Conception, one has to explain Sacred Tradition and its relationship to the Bible. You just can't do that in 30 seconds.
Yes, Catholicism is complicated. It is wonderfully, brilliantly complex, as great minds (as well as people like me) have contemplated its mysteries for two millennia. It is also a breathtakingly simple love story, as God strives to make himself known amid the chaos we relentlessly choose for ourselves.
Seven and a half years into my journey, I'm just peeling off the outer layers of this thing. The more I learn, the more I understand that I've barely scratched the surface. My favorite Catholic book is the Catechism; reading it daily helps to shape my world view, and constantly brings me back to what Chesterton said. The truth and beauty of Catholicism isn't found in one thing.
I find it everywhere, all the time...because everything proves it.
Monday, May 5, 2008
This is my body
I work at an office where we are privileged to have a chapel; daily mass is said there on weekdays. I've been a lector there for about a year, and this week I started reading at my parish as well. Overall it went pretty well; my only blunder was putting the lectionary on the display shelf instead of the book of the Gospels. I think they're going to have me back (next Sunday, actually).
There was something pretty powerful for me in being the only real observer of the liturgy in the sanctuary while the consecration was being performed. Part of it was the fact that I was actually sitting in the sanctuary; part of it was my proximity the altar and the fact that I was facing it; and for me, no small part of it was the absence of a certain fidgety five-year-old at my side. I had an opportunity to reflect on the miracle that I saw taking place in front of me as the priest spoke the words of consecration.
One of the many objections I've read to the dogma of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is that, if the ordinary bread wine truly do become the Body and Blood of Christ, something should appear to happen. There should be a flash of light, or bells (from heaven, not the altar server), or...doves, maybe. Something. It's one of the more nonsensical arguments I've heard, and it flies in the face of the way Jesus did most of his miracles, if not all of them.
When he fed 5,000 people (as well as in the account of the other mass feeding, of the 4,000), there is actually no explicit mention made of a miracle taking place at all. Jesus blessed the food, the crowd ate its fill, and the disciples gathered up a bunch of leftovers. None of that would have been remarkable had the food on hand not consisted only of one rather smallish lunch (as Winnie the Pooh would have said, a Smackerel). The miracle itself could have gone almost completely unnoticed (although the Gospel account tells us the crowd did notice, and followed Jesus hoping for another meal). The miracle at the wedding at Cana actually did go unnoticed; the wine steward chided the host for waiting to bring out the best wine until after everyone was too far gone to care.
Time and time again, Jesus' miracles were done in small ways; large crowds and loose-lipped recipients of his healings were the one who spread the word about what had happened. It's entirely fitting that I could say the same words a priest says and absolutely nothing would appear to happen, while something does happen when the priest says them--however, in both cases, no miracle appears to take place. Jesus and a passerby could have each made mud out of his spittle and rubbed it in a blind man's eyes; only one of them would have restored the man's sight.
There was something pretty powerful for me in being the only real observer of the liturgy in the sanctuary while the consecration was being performed. Part of it was the fact that I was actually sitting in the sanctuary; part of it was my proximity the altar and the fact that I was facing it; and for me, no small part of it was the absence of a certain fidgety five-year-old at my side. I had an opportunity to reflect on the miracle that I saw taking place in front of me as the priest spoke the words of consecration.
One of the many objections I've read to the dogma of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is that, if the ordinary bread wine truly do become the Body and Blood of Christ, something should appear to happen. There should be a flash of light, or bells (from heaven, not the altar server), or...doves, maybe. Something. It's one of the more nonsensical arguments I've heard, and it flies in the face of the way Jesus did most of his miracles, if not all of them.
When he fed 5,000 people (as well as in the account of the other mass feeding, of the 4,000), there is actually no explicit mention made of a miracle taking place at all. Jesus blessed the food, the crowd ate its fill, and the disciples gathered up a bunch of leftovers. None of that would have been remarkable had the food on hand not consisted only of one rather smallish lunch (as Winnie the Pooh would have said, a Smackerel). The miracle itself could have gone almost completely unnoticed (although the Gospel account tells us the crowd did notice, and followed Jesus hoping for another meal). The miracle at the wedding at Cana actually did go unnoticed; the wine steward chided the host for waiting to bring out the best wine until after everyone was too far gone to care.
Time and time again, Jesus' miracles were done in small ways; large crowds and loose-lipped recipients of his healings were the one who spread the word about what had happened. It's entirely fitting that I could say the same words a priest says and absolutely nothing would appear to happen, while something does happen when the priest says them--however, in both cases, no miracle appears to take place. Jesus and a passerby could have each made mud out of his spittle and rubbed it in a blind man's eyes; only one of them would have restored the man's sight.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Offer it up
I've been a Catholic a little over five years now (and had been essentially living as a Catholic for about 18 months before that). I'm happy and grateful to have found the Church fairly late in life relatively late in the game (we were received into the Church at the age of 40). In terms of both doctrine and practice, some things came very easily to me, others required some work and study to begin to feel comfortable with, and still others are a work in progress. I guess I'm not really alone in that; the Church's call for a lifelong, ongoing conversion really means that one should never feel completely settled in the faith. To a large extent, comfort and stagnation end up being the same thing.
Here's one area I'm still working on:
Clearly there is nothing lacking in Christ's suffering in terms ofsomething being deficient or missing. St. Paul is talking about the Lord giving us the opportunity--the privilege--of participating in his suffering by uniting it with our own.
There's a nifty explanation of the concept here, at http://www.scripturecatholic.com/.
Here's one area I'm still working on:
1505 Moved by so much suffering Christ not only allows himself to be touched by the sick, but he makes their miseries his own: "He took our infirmities and bore our diseases." But he did not heal all the sick. His healings were signs of the coming of the Kingdom of God. They announced a more radical healing: the victory over sin and death through his Passover. On the cross Christ took upon himself the whole weight of evil and took away the "sin of the world," of which illness is only a consequence. By his passion and death on the cross Christ has given a new meaning to suffering: it can henceforth configure us to him and unite us with his redemptive Passion.
I mention it because I had an opportunity to put this into practice today. I think one of the areas I stumble when it comes to offering up suffering to God is the notion (completely my notion) that it has to be something big (death, disease, assorted mayhem). Most of the time, we're not dealing with the big stuff, but with mountains of little stuff. Work stuff, home stuff, family stuff, commuting stuff--it's all there, every day, just waiting for us to do something more positive than merely complaining about it.
My daughter has had some kind of bug for almost two weeks. It's one of those things that seems to come and go. It's affected her appetite (and without getting to graphic, it's had a major gastric component to its unpleasantness) and her sleep patterns, which in turn has affected our sleep patterns. Last night was the third night out of five that she had awakened around two in the morning. Unfortunately, last night she woke us up to tell us she'd gotten sick. I helped clean things up and went back to bed; my wife stayed up with her for several hours. She got sick again, and Stacey had to go through the whole cleanup routine a second time.
Julie came into our room around 7:00 this morning. I got up with her because Stacey was desperately sleep-deprived. Stacey got up a while later and we had breakfast; she went back to bed and I spent some time trying to help Julie feel better.
Oh, did I mention the bathroom sink thing? No? The bathroom sink got clogged for the umpteenth time (it's a 40 year old house, and the pipes are in a somewhat fragile state). When this happens it actually takes both upstairs bathroom sinks out of commission, because they share a common drain pipe. the downstairs bathroom is currently gutted, so it left us with only one working sink in the entire house (the kitchen).
I plunged for a good half-hour, but to no avail. I was trying to avoid using drain cleaner (the plumber had said to stay away from it), so I went to Home Depot and got an auger. The instructions indicated that I could use it without taking the trap off (even though I knew the clog was past the trap). While I was trying to get the head of the auger past the trap, it punched a hole in the pipe (it was corroded pretty much all the way through, so it didn't take much). I took off the trap and tried to use the auger to get at the clog. I'm pretty sure I didn't punch another hole in the pipe for which I'm grateful, but I also didn't get anywhere near the clog. Two more trips to Home Depot later (one for the new trap, and another one to get a second trap, since the first one I bought was the wrong size), I ended up duct-taping the old trap and putting it back on (since neither of the ones I bought actually fit). The old one now leaks from the fitting because the gaskets are so old. I finally surrendered and used drain cleaner, which took care of the clog in about 20 minutes.
While I was walking out of Home Depot for the third time, I took a moment to offer up my fatigue, my frustration, and my concern for my daughter. It didn't make me less tired or plumbing-weary, but that wasn't the point of doing it. The idea isn't to make it go away, but to use it positively--more importantly, to ask Jesus to use it.
Before I became a Catholic, suffering was mostly something to be avoided, and I was taught as a child that it was actually a sign of God's displeasure or one's own lack of faith. As a Catholic I've come to understand that suffering of all kinds (large and small, profound and trivial) is an invitation to enter into Christ's suffering, and thereby to know him better and participate in some wonderful mystical way with his own act of redemption. It's what Paul talks about in Colossians 1:24:
Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church...
Clearly there is nothing lacking in Christ's suffering in terms ofsomething being deficient or missing. St. Paul is talking about the Lord giving us the opportunity--the privilege--of participating in his suffering by uniting it with our own.
There's a nifty explanation of the concept here, at http://www.scripturecatholic.com/.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Gifts of Passage
I'm in the middle of reading a remarkable book, Gifts of Passage by Amy Hollingsworth. I'm not just saying that because a blurb from me is featured on the first page (although I'm delighted and somewhat mystified that I'd be considered blurb-worthy); Amy has done a beautiful job of talking about the gifts the dying leave us in the form of life lessons, final gestures, and other gifts we might have a harder time recognizing.
She mentions that if you're supposed to be with someone when they die, it seems to have a way of working itself out; she cites hospice workers who talk about people literally delaying their own deaths until a relative can arrive. Other times, someone will keep vigil for days at the bedside of a loved one, only to have them slip away in the brief span when the person goes out to stretch their legs or get a cup of coffee. I found that immensely comforting, as well as extremely sensible. My stepfather died completely alone (he was already gone when a nurse came around to check on him).
My wife and I were moving the day it happened, and we had no reason to think he was going to die in the hospital. Dad was sick, but it was seen as more of a chronic, long-term thing that would eventually spell his death (but not right away, and certainly not that day). The thing that weighed on my mind was having to tell him that he wasn't coming home, but going to a nursing home. I knew that conversation was going to fall to me, and I dreaded it. Around lunchtime, my mom came to our house to tell me that Dad had died in the hospital. She wasn't there, either; she had gone home to get some rest.
I haven't thought about this in a long time (Dad died in 1988), but it's always bothered me that I wasn't there when he died, and that I didn't get to say goodbye. It makes sense, though. Dad wouldn't have wanted to have us there, and he definitely wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye. It just wasn't his way. Dad died the way he would have wanted to--quietly, without fanfare, and without the awkwardness of having Mom and me say things he didn't really want to hear.
I don't know what his last moments were like, but I know that he rejected faith of any kind up to the end. He scrawled out instructions that there be no funeral and no clergy of any kind. My mom reluctantly carried out his wishes, even though she wanted a funeral (it would have been small; just the two of us, my wife, and a few of my mom's friends...he didn't have any). I told her that there wouldn't be much he could do if she decided to go ahead and have a memorial service, but she followed his instructions to the letter. I said goodbye to him at the funeral home before he was cremated; they ushered me into a viewing room where he was lying on a gurney, covered up to his chest with a sheet, his head resting on a block of wood. You know how they always try to make the loved one look like they're asleep? He definitely wasn't asleep. Still, I'm glad I got to say goodbye, even if it wasn't how I'd have wanted to do it.
I still pray for his soul, and I take tremendous comfort in it. I don't know what happened at the moment he died, but I know that even then it wasn't too late for him to reach out to God and seek his love and forgiveness. My prayers for my dad transcend time and space in a way I can't begin to understand. The Church says that I can pray for God to have mercy on his soul; the Church also says that at the moment of death, every person goes through a particular judgment in which his eternal fate is sealed. I know that both those things are true.
It is a paradox that I can pray for God to have mercy on my dad at a point 20 years in the past, but he does really well with paradoxes. He invented them, actually. A virgin conceiving a child, a God who is three persons and yet one God, God becoming a man--and a little thing like having mercy on a man in 1988 because his son is asking for it in 2008? That's barely even a warm up.
Dad had free will, and ultimately he ended up where he chose to be. If he persisted in turning away from God, I won't see him again, and that will have been his choice. God's will is a beautiful and terrible thing; if my dad persisted in his choice to use the gift of his free will to spurn the greater gifts, it was ultimately what he wanted.
God is truly merciful, and our free will is truly free. It's a paradox, but not a contradiction.
She mentions that if you're supposed to be with someone when they die, it seems to have a way of working itself out; she cites hospice workers who talk about people literally delaying their own deaths until a relative can arrive. Other times, someone will keep vigil for days at the bedside of a loved one, only to have them slip away in the brief span when the person goes out to stretch their legs or get a cup of coffee. I found that immensely comforting, as well as extremely sensible. My stepfather died completely alone (he was already gone when a nurse came around to check on him).
My wife and I were moving the day it happened, and we had no reason to think he was going to die in the hospital. Dad was sick, but it was seen as more of a chronic, long-term thing that would eventually spell his death (but not right away, and certainly not that day). The thing that weighed on my mind was having to tell him that he wasn't coming home, but going to a nursing home. I knew that conversation was going to fall to me, and I dreaded it. Around lunchtime, my mom came to our house to tell me that Dad had died in the hospital. She wasn't there, either; she had gone home to get some rest.
I haven't thought about this in a long time (Dad died in 1988), but it's always bothered me that I wasn't there when he died, and that I didn't get to say goodbye. It makes sense, though. Dad wouldn't have wanted to have us there, and he definitely wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye. It just wasn't his way. Dad died the way he would have wanted to--quietly, without fanfare, and without the awkwardness of having Mom and me say things he didn't really want to hear.
I don't know what his last moments were like, but I know that he rejected faith of any kind up to the end. He scrawled out instructions that there be no funeral and no clergy of any kind. My mom reluctantly carried out his wishes, even though she wanted a funeral (it would have been small; just the two of us, my wife, and a few of my mom's friends...he didn't have any). I told her that there wouldn't be much he could do if she decided to go ahead and have a memorial service, but she followed his instructions to the letter. I said goodbye to him at the funeral home before he was cremated; they ushered me into a viewing room where he was lying on a gurney, covered up to his chest with a sheet, his head resting on a block of wood. You know how they always try to make the loved one look like they're asleep? He definitely wasn't asleep. Still, I'm glad I got to say goodbye, even if it wasn't how I'd have wanted to do it.
I still pray for his soul, and I take tremendous comfort in it. I don't know what happened at the moment he died, but I know that even then it wasn't too late for him to reach out to God and seek his love and forgiveness. My prayers for my dad transcend time and space in a way I can't begin to understand. The Church says that I can pray for God to have mercy on his soul; the Church also says that at the moment of death, every person goes through a particular judgment in which his eternal fate is sealed. I know that both those things are true.
It is a paradox that I can pray for God to have mercy on my dad at a point 20 years in the past, but he does really well with paradoxes. He invented them, actually. A virgin conceiving a child, a God who is three persons and yet one God, God becoming a man--and a little thing like having mercy on a man in 1988 because his son is asking for it in 2008? That's barely even a warm up.
Dad had free will, and ultimately he ended up where he chose to be. If he persisted in turning away from God, I won't see him again, and that will have been his choice. God's will is a beautiful and terrible thing; if my dad persisted in his choice to use the gift of his free will to spurn the greater gifts, it was ultimately what he wanted.
God is truly merciful, and our free will is truly free. It's a paradox, but not a contradiction.
Blade: Penitentiary
In a stunning turn of events, he-man half-vampire* actor Wesley Snipes was sentenced yesterday to three years in federal prison. Snipes hasn't filed a tax return since 1999, which apparently is seen as a "problem." Actually, as it turns out, it's more along the lines of a "crime." He had been convicted of three misdemeanor counts for willfully refusing to file returns. Prosecutors argued (successfully) that the judge should throw the book at him, since he spent the better part of ten years alternately evading and antagonizing the authorities, and his acquittal on felony charges was seen by some as a vindication of his tactics.
There's a definite "Render unto Caesar" aspect to all this, as well as a powerful reminder that the IRS should be at the top of any one's list of people not to have miffed at you. Having had a run-in with IRS myself (about 20 years ago, and driven by ignorance rather than protest), I can attest to the fact that you really don't want to mess around with this stuff. It mystifies me that anyone could engage them the way Snipes and his advisers did, and expect an outcome other than several years spent eating your meals from a metal tray.
*Just for the sake of clarification, Snipes played a half-vampire in the Blade series. There is no credible evidence that he is half-vampire in real life.
There's a definite "Render unto Caesar" aspect to all this, as well as a powerful reminder that the IRS should be at the top of any one's list of people not to have miffed at you. Having had a run-in with IRS myself (about 20 years ago, and driven by ignorance rather than protest), I can attest to the fact that you really don't want to mess around with this stuff. It mystifies me that anyone could engage them the way Snipes and his advisers did, and expect an outcome other than several years spent eating your meals from a metal tray.
*Just for the sake of clarification, Snipes played a half-vampire in the Blade series. There is no credible evidence that he is half-vampire in real life.
Thank heavens the Pope finally went home!
Now the news media can concentrate on really important stuff like whether Ashley Simpson is pregnant, or what Jamie Lynn Spears is doing these days. I think we can all agree there wasn't nearly enough of that kind of coverage last week, since everyone was distracted by things like the Holy Father's comments on the importance of human dignity and his efforts at providing hope, comfort, and reconciliation.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Just another one of life's bitter disappointments
Yesterday at some point I saw an online ad promising that my life would never be the same if I watched Jessie L. Martin's final "Law and Order" episode. I watched it, and a full 24 hours later, I find that my life is the same. I don't watch a ton of TV these days ("30 Rock" is my guilty pleasure; that, and watching "Lost" with my wife, is about the extent of my TV viewing), and after watching something like last night's "Law and Order," I kind of remember why.
I'm certainly no stranger to time-wasting--I could cut down on my computer usage and western civilization would find a way to continue--but I'm finding more and more that television is just this huge black hole from which no intelligence can escape. It sucks your brainpower like some kind of, um, brainpower-sucking electronic device.
You know what I'm trying to say.
I'm certainly no stranger to time-wasting--I could cut down on my computer usage and western civilization would find a way to continue--but I'm finding more and more that television is just this huge black hole from which no intelligence can escape. It sucks your brainpower like some kind of, um, brainpower-sucking electronic device.
You know what I'm trying to say.
Blogging like it's 1999
A few months ago I decided to shut down Meet Joe Convert, the blog I've been keeping since 2003. I started it as a chronicle of my journey into Catholicism, and now that I've been Catholic a few years, it seemed like the whole "convert" thing was getting kind of redundant. Don't get me wrong--I'm happy to be Catholic, and my conversion will always be integral to my experience as a Catholic (in the same way that an immigrant's story is integral to their being an American). These days I spend more time thinking about being in the Church than how I got here.
After I said my goodbyes on the blog (to a largely non-existent audience, as my output has been very sporadic the past couple years), I had major second thoughts about it and decided to keep it running. Since then, I've found that that same issues (lack of focus and lack of posts) have continued to dog the blog. Nobody much cares about this but me, but I wanted to continue (or rather restart) blogging on a regular basis, but not have any particular expectations of myself about what I'd be saying. So, here I am.
The Joe Convert blog will remain up and accessible; people seem interested in how I became Catholic, and the story is pretty much all there. I've been asked fairly often over the past few years if I've thought about turning the blog into a book. The answer is yes, and I'm inching ever closer to actually doing that. The blog would be source material for the book rather than make up the bulk of it; I think it would be difficult to try to make something cohesive out of posts that are intended to stand alone. If and when I get going on that, I'll certainly let you know.
In the meantime, for what it's worth, this is my new home on The Internets.
After I said my goodbyes on the blog (to a largely non-existent audience, as my output has been very sporadic the past couple years), I had major second thoughts about it and decided to keep it running. Since then, I've found that that same issues (lack of focus and lack of posts) have continued to dog the blog. Nobody much cares about this but me, but I wanted to continue (or rather restart) blogging on a regular basis, but not have any particular expectations of myself about what I'd be saying. So, here I am.
The Joe Convert blog will remain up and accessible; people seem interested in how I became Catholic, and the story is pretty much all there. I've been asked fairly often over the past few years if I've thought about turning the blog into a book. The answer is yes, and I'm inching ever closer to actually doing that. The blog would be source material for the book rather than make up the bulk of it; I think it would be difficult to try to make something cohesive out of posts that are intended to stand alone. If and when I get going on that, I'll certainly let you know.
In the meantime, for what it's worth, this is my new home on The Internets.
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