Gentle Persuasion in the Slums of Secunderabab
I am very moved by the work these sisters are doing.
This is the best thing that I ever read about Jack Kerouac. The URL points to, "Drive, He Wrote," by Louis Menand, published in the October 1, 2007 print issue of, "The New Yorker." Louis Menand gives us many reasonable and realistic perspectives on many different aspects of Jack Kerouac, of "On The Road," itself, and associated social phenomena, but here I shall focus on Menand's observations as they relate to Kerouac's search for meaning in life, his Catholicism, and his response to what Luigi Giussani refers to as, the religious sense.
Labels: Jack Kerouac Beat Beats beatnik On the road louis menand luigi giussani religious sense catholic
- an interview about his Cardinal Francis George's book, The Difference God Makes.
Fr. Giussani's entire career with the movement was an attempt to rescue Catholicism from an empty formalism. Note that this is in the form of a Platonic Dialogue. I'd like to thank Fred Kaffenberger for showing me this article from Traces Magazine, of the same title as the blog entry.
I like this guy; he has an effective leaderships style. In the article, I like how he articulated how he would counsel a woman who came to him considering an abortion, as well as how he articulated the church's position on same sex relationships. It is not clear to me that he has been handling the pedophilia crisis in the best possible way. He may be, but I'm just saying that that is not clear to me based on the article.
Christian community and relationships make for dignified aging and death.
The introduction is the best primer on human trafficking that I have read yet.
The initial attraction is to his wild and passionate style. It sustains itself with simultaneous poetic and logical power.
If you want to avoid buying chocolate that was made with child labor, only buy Fair Trade Certified Chocolate.
As Roman Catholic Bishop Blase Cupich of South Dakota cautioned his fellow bishops at a national meeting, a “prophecy of denunciation quickly wears thin.”
I had read the novel Steppenwolf, by Herman Hesse, when I was in my late teens. I was not sophisticated enough to understand that I did not understand what was going in the book, but the feelings, tone, and mood, captivated me. It was a time in my life when I needed something like that, though I knew no one else who read Hesse.
Click on the title above for the article. It will first come up in Spanish, but click on the small button in the upper right hand corner that says "English," for a translation.
Labels: Augustinian Recollect Tagaste
Will you take three minutes to vote for this worthy cause?
Labels: Nomi Cambodia sex slavery trafficking Kristof ideablob
“Being Catholic is an act of rebellion. A mad stubborn, outrageous, nonsensical refusal to be comforted by anything less than the glorious impossibility of the resurrection of the body and life everlasting.”
Ingid Betancourt's faith during her captivity by FARC and after her rescue:
At the above URL, see the subtitle, "Fatima's Quest."
The Shack is a warm-fuzzy about God. It is a very imaginative fantasy that attempts to teach spiritual truths, but as literature, it is rather poor. Thankfully, it is not about dogma but relationship to God. At first impression, the novel may not seem to address more difficult to accept concepts like brokenness, sin, or discipleship, but they actually hover over the entire story, in the person of the main character, Mackenzie Allen Phillips. While a few of the ideas are clearly off-track theologically, the book illustrates some spiritual concepts very well.
Mackenzie’s young daughter had been abducted a few years prior. The body was never found, just some bloody clothes in an old shack in the mountains. Now, Mack receives a mysterious note inviting him to return to the shack. The heart of the novel is a dialogue with God. The enchanted world in and around the shack reminded me of the imaginary land of Teribithia, from Bridge to Teribithia. The combination of ordinary people and the supernatural remind me of the works of Stephen King, with the difference that The Shack is about good rather than evil.
Rigid, unimaginative, authoritarian, legalistic, or overly dogmatic Christians (they are legion) may have a hard time appreciating the story. It will be a challenge to anyone whose image of God is of an angry patriarch, or whose experience of Christianity is of fire and brimstone.
As far as literary style goes, I choked on the first paragraph of the first chapter. This is a book about relationship to God, and the author states that, “the god of winter was not about to relinquish its hard-won dominion without a tussle.” A Christian author who is trying to teach truth who starts a book with a citation of pantheistic theology confuses the reader and undermines his own credibility as a teacher or a narrator. The same paragraph finishes with this gem of originality: “snuggle up with a book and a hot cider and wrap up in the warmth of a crackling fire.” The book is rife with similar cliched images.
Beneath each chapter heading is a quote from a different author. The quotes are bold and provocative in themselves, but they tend to spoil the reader experience. Besides being distracting, good authors do not tip off the reader that way. A well written story can speak for itself. Part of the fulfillment of reading is to discover the substance and meaning of a text on one’s own.
I have no intention of trying to vet the validity of the theology that is presented. I learned quite a bit about the Biblical concept of submission in relationships (it is a little different than what it sounds like!). I am sure that that part is absolutely correct. The book presents a reasonable but not original answer to the age-old question of why God permits the existence of evil. Forgiveness is presented as extraordinarily difficult but possible. However, the author’s heretical presentation of Wisdom as a fourth person, apart from the Holy Trinity, is just too wacky.
The Shack correctly takes the common but mistaken notion that religion is primarily about morality and stands it on its head. Christianity is firstly about one’s relationship to God. As Luigi Giussani says, morality is less about abstract rules and laws than it is about honoring a relationship.
For Christians, the concept of relationship is ultra-important. Those who do not cultivate or experience relationship are doomed to living out their lives as empty shells. I am relatively new to an appreciation of relationships, whether between myself and God or between myself and another person. I am not sure that one can have a positive relationship with God until one has had a positive relationship with another person. One models the other. Perhaps we can only cultivate a relationship with God to the extent that we can cultivate relationships with other people? Or is it the other way around, or in parallel? I have observed that those who actively, continually work on their relationship with God tend to apply the same effort to their human relationships, with fruitful results. Christians are expected to act with charity, that is, love, towards others. The place where charity begins, and can be practiced by anyone, is in our relationships with those closest to us.
I accept at face value the numerous people who say their lives have been changed by book. That is a good thing. As a “message” book, I do not mean to be so harsh, but The Shack is a work of fiction, not theology, and ultimately, it must be judged as such.
I am posting this mostly because I was struck by the quote below.
As someone born into a large Roman Catholic family, and not a convert, I find the people and the institution of the church to be like extended family--we all are familiar with everyone else’s personality, habits and all too-humanness, good and bad. I find the occasional paranoia about the church, on the part of some American Protestants, to be somewhere between charming and amusing. We cradle Catholic know better! We also readily welcome new members of the family, and I’m glad we occasionally get some fun and interesting enthusiasts like G.K. Chesterton.
Some G.K. Chesterton Resources:
http://www.chesterton.org/Labels: chesterton converts pangloss
Little Chapel on the River is a warm memoir of a family and a community that eat, drink, and socialize at Guinan’s, a family owned Irish pub in the town of Garrison, N.Y. The pub, now closed, was on the Hudson River, across from West Point and next to the Garrison train station.
I am mostly Irish-American, and I enjoyed the depiction of modern day Irish-American culture.
The author, Gwendolyn (Wendy) Brooks is from North Carolina and is a journalist for the Wall Street Journal. She is in a relationship with another woman, Kathryn. Their apartment was across the street from the World Trade Center, and they had to flee on the morning of 9/11. Some months later, a friend brought them to Guinan’s, upstate, and Wendy became so enchanted with the place that they settled in Garrison.
Guinan’s became an important part of her life. The personalities and relationships of each of the diverse characters who frequent the pub are well drawn. Each comes across as interesting and dignified. Common courtesy is expected and people respect each other in general. Wendy doesn’t flaunt the fact that she is in a relationship with another woman but doesn’t hide it either. She comes across as a normal, even classy person and is accepted by the men and women who hang-out there. Soon enough, she earns the trust of the Guinan family and, inevitably, pitches-in at the pub whenever help is needed. She becomes a member of the inner circle of an extended group of family-like Guinan loyalists. Their lives became part of her own.
The event of 9/11 caused many who experienced it so reflect upon what is most important in life. Each chapter of Little Chapel on the River is suffixed with a recollection of the author from her childhood in North Carolina. For Wendy, post 9/11, the discovery of Guinan’s provided her with a network of relationships in a community of ordinary but very human and loving people, like the ones she knew as a young child.
The book evoked a bit of sadness in me. America has been in a decades-long love affair with the self and the almighty dollar. The pub and its community are a relic from the past, when persons, relationships, family, and community counted. Little Chapel on the River is a reminder of something that America has been slowly losing for a long time.
My first encounter with Communion and Liberation Movement and Msgr Luigi Giussani was the November, 2004 issue of their monthly magazine, Traces. My wife and I had had a vicious fight right before she took the kids to Hong Kong for a month, in December, 2004. I was home alone that Christmas season, feeling down, alone, and somberly reflecting on my situation. Meanwhile, at work, Virginia C. had left a Traces magazine on a co-worker’s desk, and so I took it and read it.
Two articles struck me deeply:
After reading the whole magazine, I felt like I knew Luigi Giussani personally. To understand why, you would have to have known one of our parish priests, Fr. Richard Joyce, back when I was in grammar school and junior high (the 1960’s). Fr. Joyce had regularly engaged young people in casual settings, with questions about the faith. He taught and evangelized people at their own level, but he also understood and discussed freely the trends and ideas in society from the viewpoint of Philosophy. Joyce was passionate in his Christian convictions and acted freely according to what he believed, without concern for career, status, conventional wisdom, or what anyone else might think of him. I saw all this in Giussani, in spades.
Beyond that, Msgr Giussani's ideas about evangelization, about what was wrong with the church, and how to fix it, agreed with my own, and that's about the first time that ever happened!
Not only that, but intuitively, with Giussani, I saw the signs for the way out of my own personal tangle of formalism, moralism, authoritarianism, and intellectualism. I intuitively sensed that not only had I discovered a way of being Christian that would allow me to be fully and freely human and one that approached life as a wonderfully grand adventure; albeit, one where the stakes were all or nothing.
After I read that issue of Traces magazine, I asked Virginia, "What is this? Who are these people?" I had only heard of Communion and Liberation once, years ago, in an article in the New York Times that criticized them as being conservative because they were loyal to the Pope.
For those that do not know, Fr. Giussani had been a seminary professor in Milan, Italy. In the summer 1954, while taking a train to a vacation on the Adriatic Sea, he saw a group of teenagers on the train and, out of curiosity, decided to question them about their knowledge of the faith. He discovered that they were not only ignorant of Christianity but contemptuous of it as well. This precipitous encounter led Fr. Giussani to decide to resign his professorship and seek a position teaching in a high school, that fall. And that was the origin of the Communion and Liberation Movement. One reason that that encounter resonated with me was that our old parish priest, Fr. Joyce often sought out young people and engaged them in conversation conversation to see how much they knew about the faith.
In addition to Giussani’s encounter on the train, I was profoundly moved by several other encounters that Giussani had in his first few weeks of teaching high school. Those incidents were examples of living what one believes, of preaching the gospel always--a powerful witness. In the interests of brevity, I won’t describe those additional encounters, but I will at least list them: (1) the encounter with the student named Claudio Pavesi in his very first class at the high school, over faith vs reason (2) the encounter with the students on the street who were wearing Catholic Action logos, (3) observing the groups of students gathered under the school stairways, passionately discussing Communism, and (4) the school assembly where students debated the politics of Communism and Monarchical-Fascism. In each of these incidents incidentally, there is no doubt that Fr. Joyce would have responded in exactly the same way as Fr. Giussani. So you can see why I feel that I know him.
After I had read that issue of Traces magazine, I was still unaware of Giussani's method, teachings, perspectives on scripture, his wonderfully wild writing style, his exemplary tolerance and respect for the beliefs of people who were non-Christian, and his deep interest and value that he put on all things cultural, especially music.
Nor did I grasp Giussani's emphasis on experience. That took a long time and has been the biggest adjustment I've had to make. I now understand that, at a social-psychological level, the reason that reliance on experience was so foreign to me was that I grew up Irish-Catholic at a time when Protestantism was still the dominant, overarching culture in America (that insight is courtesy of Christopher Bacich). And my insight is that in that context, unity needed to take precedence over individualism. The mentality was one of circle the wagons, over-protect the children’s minds and morals, tolerate no dissent within the ranks, and present a unified front--survival tactics well-honed in British occupied Ireland, transported to America. To learn from experience was too risky. The community might lose control over someone who did. They would risk making mistakes; they might fail. They might come to do something immoral, or worse, succumb to heresy. That is how I perceive it.
A few months after my encounter with C&L, I attended a seminar on Giussani's book, The Religious Sense. The seminar leader, Christopher Bacich, talked boldly and forthrightly about using experience to grow as a Christian, and I was completely flabbergasted! To me, experience meant experimentation and that was absolutely, completely forbidden! The spector of sex, drugs, and violence!
I needed to think about the implications and consequences; yet, though it was hard for me to imagine it for myself, I saw the reliance on experience as an invitation to walk and breathe freely in life, though I still could not accept it. It was quite a shock: I had just been given permission to be in charge of my own life. I am still working on overcoming my old, overly rigid ways, towards becoming freely human, not to mention Christian, and of course, this is a life-long task.
Stability in Iraq may never be achieved. The Iraqis say they can’t assume control of their country until the Americans leave. We can’t leave because there will be a civil war. The American military learned many lessons from the Vietnam War, but our civilian policy makers did not.
I am very disappointed in my own clarity of thinking just before the invasion of Iraq. Originally, I was opposed to an invasion of Iraq, based on the principles of Just War theory. But as the buildup came closer to the time of the invasion, I got caught-up in the surrounding emotions, based on what was being reported in the media. In hindsight, I realized that before the invasion, the U.S. and Iraq were behaving like my two sons fighting in the back seat of the car.
I knew that the Iraq war did not meet the necessary conditions of the Just War theory, but I told myself that the theory had not been updated for modern realities. I thought the war was justified on a “greater good” basis because of the crimes Hussein was committing against his own people. However, the Pope had warned Bush that in going to war against Iraq, too many innocents would suffer and that he would not be able to predict or control the course the war would take, the consequences or outcome.
You should only go to war when you have no other choice. We need to deal with people like Sadaam Hussein with negotiation, no matter how difficult it is or how long it takes. Our government does not put enough effort, talent, resources or priority into negotiations in situations like this. We need to be more creative in applying political pressure. To say that one can’t negotiate with the likes of Hussein is a mistake. One should never walk away saying that such negotiations aren’t working. The Bush administration does not negotiate or exercise diplomacy. Their policy towards smaller, non-friendly countries is to simply demand they do things our way, and if they do not, they don’t talk to them except to threaten, bomb, or invade them.
One sad thing about the war in Iraq is that there is nothing like the anti-war movement that there was against the Vietnam War. One reason is that there is no draft. Another is that because of 9/11, and because most Iraqis are Islamic, many Americans wrongly associate Iraq with a general threat against America from Islamic terrorists. But the American military also learned a lot from Vietnam. Journalists are not permitted to embed themselves with troops in Iraq the way they were in Vietnam. That prevents them from reporting on atrocities committed against civilians. Also, the military does not allow the filming of the coffins of returning American dead. Enemy body counts are not reported like they were during the Vietnam War, and we don’t see news footage of piles of the enemy dead stacked like cordwood. With Iraq, it’s a case of see no evil.
Americans don’t know history or other cultures. The people making our foreign policy are all mid-Westerners (Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al) who have no exposure to people different than themselves. They can’t imagine or understand that other people in the world think and behave in ways that are entirely different than themselves. They assume that other people are reasonable, based on their own understanding of what reasonable means. In the 20th century, the British had a long history in Iraq. They understood the tribal culture very well (and got out!). Our leaders chose not to learn from the British experience but that would have required them to acknowledge that they did not understand that part of the world.
Colin Powell had warned Cheney and Rumsfeld about invading Iraq that, “If you break it, you fix it.” I still find it incredible that Rumsfeld actually thought that we could march into Iraq, be greeted by streets full of cheering civilians, that the Iraqis would all go back to work the next day and everybody was going live happily ever after. When will they ever learn? When will we ever learn?
In reference to the May 7, 2000 New York Times article, by Msgr. Lorenzo Albacete, at the above URL:
Quoted from Karl Rahner's Wikipedia entry-
The recent New York Times article on John McCain was nothing but a witch hunt of gossip and innuendo. If the article showed anything of substance, it was that our politicians, of necessity, must work in a dark wood of ethical pitfalls and dilemmas. Contrary to the article’s intent, I was impressed by the priority that McCain gives to ethics and by the corrections that he has made after committing ethical lapses. Unlike other politicians who lie, rationalize and deny, John McCain has owned up to his mistakes. Unfortunately, for many people, that’s not good enough.
I think we should form a group composed of Christians and atheists who want to have respect for each other and are willing to engage in dialogue, in an effort find common ground. Such a group would be good for both religion and political life. One of the group's goals would be to inculcate respect in churches and society at large.
Behold the night sky this Christmas morning.
I recently rented to movie The Namesake, where Gogol and his short story, “The Overcoat,” were featured prominently. It prompted me to read the short story.
The story is about human dignity, and that is what the overcoat symbolizes. Akaky Akakyevitch is a person of no worldly consequence, influence or power, without even a wife or family. He lives in material, social, and spiritual poverty. What little human dignity he has is constantly under assault at the office. He invests all of his human dignity in a new overcoat which he purchases at great sacrifice. Soon, he is violently robbed of his overcoat. The police offend Akaky by having not the slightest inclination in investigating the robbery. And then, a person of Person of Consequence adds mortal insult to the original injury. It is no wonder Akaky dies.
Ultimately, I find the story disappointing. Yes, there is a retributive justice. To make up for his loss, Akaky’s ghost robs many others of their coats. He flusters the police, just as they had flustered him, and, finally, Akaky’s ghost confronts and terrifies the Person of Consequence while freeing him of his overcoat. It was sad to see that the justice achieved was only transactional, as opposed to transformational, and that none of the characters redeemed themselves, repented, or were significantly changed for the better in anyway. It is no wonder that these social conditions of Russia resulted in revolution.
After reading the story, I also read Frank O’Connor’s, “The Legacy of Gogol’s Overcoat.” O’Connor talks about how groundbreaking this story was, but of course, I cannot read it as if I had never ready anything written afterwards.
I think O’Connor is going too far in stressing that the story is an analogy to the crucifixion of Jesus. However it is very much a Judaic-Christian story, in that it is about the innate human dignity of a person regardless of their station in life
Stanley Hauerwas is a Protestant and a professor of theology at Duke University. My understanding is that he is among the most highly respected theologians in America today, among both Catholics and Protestants.
Today, the Sunday after Easter, is Divine Mercy Sunday. It was added to the Roman Catholic liturgical calendar by Pope John Paul II, in the year 2000, to emphasize and celebrate the mercy of God.
Twenty years ago, I had come across the name Henri Nouwen in a magazine article, and once, a parish priest mentioned the name and one of his books in a sermon. At the time, I tried one of his books but found it bland and abstract--nothing resonated, and I was disappointed.
I’ve been avidly following the news coverage of the Amish schoolhouse massacre. I’ve been intellectualizing it as an American gothic tale—like something straight out Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allen Poe, or Stephen King. Considering the facts about the perpetrator and the victims, this was a case of almost pure evil versus pure good.
something far-fetched, perhaps too fanciful, perhaps something to put you to sleep, a midnight snack for the left and right brains
The following is part of a comment that was left by someone on a prior entry on this blog, titled, “The Religious Sense: Nietzche”
“What about your views as a Catholic? I'm sure you are sincere but unfortunately sincerely wrong as well. What do I mean? The Bible says that there is only one way to getting saved and my website will show that as a Catholic you do NOT know how to get saved.”
“The religious genius of the Protestant Reformation, as I see it, lies in its struggle with the problem of justification in all its depth. The great Christian question is the conversion of man and his restoration to the grace of God in Christ. And this question, in its simplest form, is that of the conversion of the wicked and the sinful to Christ. But Protestantism raised this same question again in its most radical form—how about the much more difficult and problematical conversion, that of the pious and the good? It is relatively easy to convert the sinner, but the good are often completely unconvertible simply because they do not see any need for conversion.
“Thus the genius of Protestantism focused from the beginning on the ambiguities contained in “being good” and “being saved” or “belonging to Christ.” For conversion to Christ is not merely the conversion from bad habits to good habits, but nova creatura, becoming a totally new man in Christ and in the Spirit.”
- from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, pp 168-169.
" And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country."
"In his book, The Gay Science, Nietzche tells the story about a mad man who goes to a crowded market place in broad daylight, carrying a lantern and shouting, “I am looking for God! I am Looking for God!” But the crowd simply ridicules him and bombards him with verbal abuse. Turning angrily to the crowd, he declares, “God is dead.” Then he smashes his lantern on the ground. “God is dead,” he continues. “We have killed him, you and I. All of us are his murderers. How did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon?”
Wherefore those many nights,
(This was an article titled, “Thought in Movement,” by Carlo Dignola, published in the December 2000 issue of Traces, the magazine of the Catholic Movement, Communion and Liberation.)
"It is true that individuals who subscribe to an
If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
“Why are we close friends? I don’t ask. I don’t want to know. Love the mystery. Don’t want to know why I’m here, per se, in life. Feel it, follow the feeling. But don’t want the answer. Don’t believe I’ll get it. Don’t want the safety net of ‘Am I gonna have an afterlife or not?” He continued, “Somebody says there’s a God. I think it’s a kind of funny notion. Somebody says there’s not. I think it’s a funny notion. To know is a funny notion. And so you know, if I’ve got religion, it’s the mystery of the thing.”
Life is not only full of more distractions and noise than ever, but if you are like me, then it is almost a compulsion that whenever you get into the car, or the house is silent, the first thing you do is turn on the radio, stereo, or TV. I know many people are never without their I-Pod or cell phone—on the train, at the beach, shopping, or anywhere. If you’re like me, it has gotten to the point where you don’t know what to do with yourself unless you’re stuffing information into your brain, whether it’s words, sounds or images. When I’m not talking or writing, I’m reading a book, a magazine, a screen, a newspaper or a cereal box. I seem to be making it very difficult for any thoughts and feelings to surface freely of their own accord. I seem bent on drowning them all. Have I had any inner peace lately? Can I put two and two together?
Barabbas is one of my favorite Biblical characters. I recall knowing about Barabbas when I was a young boy. Today is Palm Sunday, and in the Catholic Mass, the Passion narrative from the Bible is always read. The priest, lecture, congregation, and another voice take different roles from the narrative, like actors rehearsing their roles. The congregation plays the role of the crowd in the square before Pilate, and, among other lines, we get to shout, “Barabbas! Give us Barrabas!” When you’re a little kid, this is fun.
The Look of Barabbas
I was moved by this article which I shamelessly took it from the January 2006 issue of Traces, the monthly magazine of the Catholic movement Communion and Liberation. I am not "pushing" Communion and Liberation, but that is where the author below encountered Christ.
This entry was triggered by Megan’s comments on my previous blog entry.
Oh, the dramatic irony!
The Pope's awaited encyclical is out.
Is my heart sleeping?
The above hyperlink of the title is to an article in Slate, by Chloe Breyer, posted today, 12/22/05. There are a large volume of comments about it on Slate, ranging from the reactionary and ignorant (mostly!) to the thoughtful and informed. I opened an account on Slate today and posted my comment below, under the name Kabloona.
Thoughts provoked by the poem, Gaze, by Elizabeth Lynn Rakphongphairoj, 18 years old.
Also see other bloggers comments:
"Performance has true integrity when the heart
Today is the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's death (and the feast of the Immaculate Conception).
The Characters in the Dream:
This is not a rhetorical question. I would like to hear from people why they think we should praise God. I am not questioning the need to praise God. Praise of God is everywhere in the Bible, including the Lord’s Prayer.
"If we allow Him access to our hearts, our imperfections don't even matter."
In light of the Tsunami; the hurricanes Katrina, Rita and Wilma; the earthquake in the Pakistan area; plus numerous smaller disasters; not to mention the poverty in our own backyards; and the fact that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming up, the gospel reading at last Sunday’s mass couldn’t have been timed better.
This past Sunday was gorgeous with a clear sky, cool air, and low humidity. I drove my two sons to my parent’s place in Suffern, N.Y. and then further upstate N.Y. to my sister’s house in Mountainville. The reason for the trip was to leave my wife alone so she could study for her CPA exam. The peak of the foliage season has just passed, but it was still wonderful. The reds and particularly the yellows are exceptionally bright this year. Just enough leaves have fallen so that the ground was covered with yellow, read and brown; yet, the tress still have most of their leaves on. We went to see my niece’s basketball game, at St. Thomas of Canterbury in Cornwall. In town we stopped at a place called Prima Pizzeria, where we ate at a table outside. A gargantuan, old maple tree towered over the whole eating area like an umbrella, while yellow leaves and winged maple seeds cascaded down and around on us, as we drank and ate our iced tea, pizza and calzones. There was only one other party eating outside with us. They were four West Point cadets, in uniform, including two girls. (West Point is close by). The unsurprising surprise is they looked and acted so much like children. Everyone knows the formal, public relations image of disciplined West Pointer cadets, but it is refreshing to see them off base, acting like adolescents, which is what they are. One of the girls, who could have passed for a 13-year-old, whined that she hoped no one from the school sees her not wearing her uniform hat. One of the guys was wearing a long dew rag with his uniform, which was quite a sight! He was taking an even bigger risk than the girl, in the event an officer caught him. I couldn’t help but picture these young people against the images of the war in Iraq, of truck bombs and bullets, of the butchered flesh of once beautiful bodies, of amputees in rehabilitation, of coffins arriving at Dover Air Force Base, and of grief stricken mothers. These cadet’s peers and seniors are getting killed and maimed overseas, and soon they will be in harm’s way themselves--the crème de al crème of American youth. Other cadets were passing on the sidewalk, including a group of Chinese-American cadets. Some teenaged boys and girls from the town, in spiked and purple hair, were milling around, and the punks and cadets got along like leaves from the same tree. I sensed some jealousy and envy on the part of the cadets towards the punks, plus a sense of respectful fun at the cadet’s expense on the part of the punks. The two groups are, in reality, peers after all, members of a shared culture of youth. The boy cadets were happily interacting with the girl punks and likewise between the girl cadets and the boy townies. I loved the peaceful, loving humanity of it all. Moreover, I must be abrupt and ask: How we can send beautiful children such as these off to war?
The Author's Note from the book-
Someone on another website asked me the following question. Do you feel reconciled to some of the things your chosen faith has said/done? Do you feel a struggle? How do you feel about that shared religious experience?
Daylight savings time doesn't start until the end of the month. I leave for work at 06:00 A.M., and the sky has been startlingly dark at that hour. With intermittent rain for weeks, everything is soaked and smells faintly of wet leaves. The air feels like a soft quilt on a cool night.
"There is a secret place where the Christian dwells. It is the shadow of the Almighty. Transactions take place there which none but God knows." - Elisabeth Elliot -
-I ache to be loved, and to love.
A few weeks ago (or was it months?), I brought my wife and children to a get-together at a working colleague’s new house. At the party, I met several people from France who are members of a Catholic movement called Heart's Home, that I had never heard of before. They lived in a residence in the Bronx. They are missionaries whose objective is to assist poor children, and "to love them as God loves them."
My job moved from Manhattan to Warren Township, N.J. last June, and so I have been driving to work instead of taking the train. Listening to the radio in the car, I have gotten tired of listening to the same classic rock songs and have little interest in kiddie pop. I became digusted with talk radio very quickly, especially the afternoon show on N.J's main station, 101.5 As an alternative, I had been hoping to find a good Christian radio station.
So they said to him, "What can we do to accomplish the works of God?"
My parents, coworkers, and everyone I know that has seen the movie, March of the Penguins, raves about it, including people who are never interested in animal movies or documentaries. I’ve read that it’s the second largest grossing film documentary in history. And then I read that some Christian groups are promoting the film as supportive of family values!
While browsing the book table in my local Costco, I saw the following titles.
The other day I watched a documentary on the Catholic TV channel (EWTN) about the persecutions of Christians in ancient Rome. I will spare you the details of the various tortures which were practically beyond our imagination. I am also skipping over the fact that to avoid torture all one had to do was to renounce Christ and pray to the pagan Roman gods. I am also skipping over the fact that many of the martyrs were women. But, what I also felt very strongly moved by and deserves note was something else. Rome had a central sewer system which emptied into the various rivers. After the Romans killed a Christian, they dumped the dead, dismembered, burnt and disfigured bodies into the sewer system. Every morning, Christian women in Rome would gather where the sewers emptied into the river. They would reclaim the bodies of the dead, wash their bodies, and bury them in the catacombs. Can you imagine the strength of character, the faith, the belief in Christ, to have the fortitude to do even this? The documentary did not mention any men doing this, only the women! And that there were so many women who did his! Interestingly, one of the ancient Roman sewers ducts is still there. One can stand on the bank of the river where those Christian women stood, pulling the corpses of saints out of the sewage. For me the entire documentary was a VERY powerful meditation on Christian faith. There is nothing like the example of others to bolster one’s own faith.
I’ve just completed reading, Feast of Faith, by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger. It is the first book that I have read that was authored by our new Pope. It is also the September book, for members of the Enzo Piccininni reading group which is a reading group for members of the movement Communion and Liberation.
Next to the saints, the art which the Church has produced is the only real “apologia” for her history. It is this glory which witnesses to the Lord, not theology’s clever explanations for all the terrible things which, lamentably, fill the pages of her history. The Church is to transform, improve, “humanize” the world—but how can she do that if at the same time she turns her back on beauty, which is so closely allied to love? For together, beauty and love form the true consolation in this world, bringing it as near as possible to the world of the resurrection. The Church must maintain high standards; she must be a place where beauty can be at home; she must lead the struggle for “spiritualization” without which the world becomes “the first circle of hell”.
A friend of mine described an old girlfriend of his who was a devout Christian: “An evangelical of sorts… She came to it by invitation from friends, and meetings. To her it was a religion of joy and celebration.”
“The truth will set you free.” (John 8:32)
“In terms typical of Giussani’s thought, “spirituality” can be defined as a relation with Mystery that is perceived by the religious sense as totally transcendent and yet at the origin and as fulfillment of those defining human experiences that he calls the “original” desires of the heart. Giussani also uses the expression “original experiences of the heart,” which is similar to term John Paul II’s concept of “primordial experiences” in the “Wednesday Catechesis on Human Love” where he uses this concept to construct what he calls an adequate “anthropology.” The point of departure for both, therefore, is the experience of being human, of being a person, of being someone unique and unrepeatable. The word “heart” is a metaphor for the subject, the acting agent, the “I,” or self that engages with reality. In this engagement with a reality that is not created by the self, the subject experiences its own originality. The experience is the point of departure for “spirituality.
The first disciples of Jesus did not believe he was the Messiah because of any theological or philosophical reasoning. Nor did they believe as the result of a reading of Old Testament prophesies or because some human authority told them that he was the Messiah. Rather, the first disciples believed in Jesus because they had an encounter, or a series of encounters with him. Through their own experiences, they came to know, in their head and heart, that Jesus was the One.
God bless Pope Benedict XVI, and may his reign be long and successful!
There is nothing that I could possibly say that hasn't already been said. In particular, I am astounded at the respect with which he was held by the the leaders and people of other faiths.
I invite you to ruminate on these photos.
R.R. Reno, a professor of theology at Creighton University, explains his recent conversion from Episcopalianism to Roman Catholicism.
I just finished reading a book, At the Origin
On EWTN today I was listening to Dr. Timothy O'Donnell, president of Christendom College, who was reading from Matthew, chapter 8, which included:
Below is the text of an article called, “Jesus Christ: The Human Being,” by James W. Douglas that was published in a journal called The Critic , published by the Thomas More Association, in the summer of 1991. Ponder this article in light of all the war, terrorism, murder and abuse in the world today, including the violence depicted in Mel Gibson's film, The Passion of the Christ.
About twenty-five years ago, I had a read a book of tales about Saint Brendan the Navigator and some other legendary sailor-monks of early Medieval Ireland. I was fascinated by one story about a monk who lived in a cave on an island in the North Atlantic. Alone, he spent all of his time in prayer. Whenever he needed it, an angel appeared in his cave and provided him with bread. I had a very vivid image of a thin and rugged looking monk with pale Irish skin and long white beard and hair.
In last week's newsletter from my children's Catholic grammar school, the principal included the following note.
Giancarlo Cesana - "Corriere della Sera," January 7th, 2005
A great way to start the new year: contribute to the relief of the Tsunami victims.
Today, five days after the Tsunami, an acquaintance at work, a man in his fifties, told me that on the afternoon of 9/11/01, he opened the Bible to the book of Habakkuk. He said that once he read it, he saw the parallel to 9/11 clearly and immediately became a believer in the word of God.
I extracted the following excepts from the November, 2004 issue of the magazine Traces, which is published by an international Christian youth group called Communion and Liberation.
In the days before Christmas, I read something that reminded that the meaning of Christmas cannot be understood unless we also understand the passion, death and resurrection of the Lord.
Behold the night sky this Christmas morning.
I love live performances—music, plays, and everything in between. When I was single and lived in Manhattan, I did not avail myself of the opportunities to see top-flight theatre (although I did of Jazz music). During the 80’s, there was much solo performance art and small company theater work going on in New York. I regret not making a point of seeing any of it. One of my pipe dreams is to someday be able to go to the theatre on a regular basis.
On Mondays, my sons’ Catholic grammar school sends home a school newsletter, plus a motley collection of notices, announcements, sign-up sheets, etc. This past Monday, the last sheet that was stapled to the pack was titled, "Letter to Parents."
In Mel Gibson's, The Passion of the Christ, I was struck by the beauty of the opening image which consists of a black screen with the words: