"Do whatever He tells you"

Almost two thousand years ago, in a small town in Galilee, a man and woman received each other in marriage. They were Jewish, worshipers of the One True God, and their wedding was typically Jewish. Thus, it was joyful. Worshiping the Creator of all good things, they knew how to celebrate the goodness of marriage, and they held a feast several days long to do so. Further, just as today brides and grooms find joy in inviting to their wedding the church ladies who knew them when they were little, this bride and groom invited a particularly devote woman whom they had known. This woman, a widow, had a son, so they invited him as well. Finally, this bride and groom, in their generosity, even went so far as to invite the son's friends.

They wanted to celebrate. They wanted to celebrate their love for one another, their love for God, and most of all, God's love for them. This is why they went so far to invite even the son's friends. Certainly they knew the mother, probably they knew the son, but the son's friends were fairly recent acquaintances. The son had only been with these men for a very short time, and indeed they were a rough and tumble sort of men. That didn't matter, though, to this bride and groom. Filled with joy and ecstasy, they wanted to share it with the ones they loved and more. So, they invited the son's friends.

However, it seems this young couple was rather poor. They made do with what was available and provided as much for the feast as they could, but it wasn't enough. Before the feast was over, they began to run out of wine. Now, as any lover of the Creator can tell you, it is a tragic occasion to run out of wine at a feast. In a purely material way, it can be like running out of the life of the party. Wine expresses the goodness and fruitfulness of creation. It fills man's heart with mirth, and when drunk appropriately, it leads him to celebrate the goodness of the material world. Running out of wine, then, would have been embarrassing because it would have been an indication that the poverty of this world, the suffering of this world, can overcome the goodness of this world.

Indeed, if this crisis of celebration had been left up to purely natural circumstances, the poverty of matter would have overcome the goodness of matter. But this wasn't the case. No, there were other forces at play at this feast, forces that would not let the play cease on account of poverty. These forces, the widow and her son, would not let the poverty of this world, born of sin, prevail. In their generosity, in their eagerness to affirm the goodness of all that they shared, the bride and groom had welcomed into their lives the very remedy for their suffering. In their love of Love, Love had come to them.

"When the wine failed, the mother of Jesus said to him, 'They have no wine.' And Jesus said to her, 'O woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come.' His mother said to the servants, 'Do whatever he tells you.' Now six stone jars were standing there, for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, 'Fill the jars with water.' And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, 'Now draw some out, and take it to the steward of the feast.' So they took it. When the steward of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew) the steward of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, 'Every man serves the good wine first; and when men have drunk freely, then the poor wine; but you have kept the good wine until now." John 2: 3-10

The servants knew where the wine had come from, though the steward did not. They had seen the "water recognize its creator and blush" as the poet has put it. And, we can imagine, the couple eventually knew as well. They may or may not have known then that Jesus had turned water into wine, but they certainly would have known that God had provided wine. Through servants doing whatever Jesus told them, the eagerness of the young poor couple to celebrate God's gift of marriage was rewarded with "good wine."

If, then, we are called to live in the world but not be of it, we too must emulate all the virtues of the wedding feast of Cana. We must live with an almost rash eagerness to celebrate all that is good. We must live with an overly generous heart even in poverty. We must give out of our love for Love, and in so doing Love will come to us and make up for our shortcomings. We must "do whatever He tells us", so that the normal water of everyday life might not be just for purification, but also for transformation in Joy. In short, we must become like those at the wedding feast of Cana so that the feast might go on - into all eternity.

When we put our hand to the plow, what will spring up?

"Pray as though everything depended on God, and act as if everything depended on you." - St. Augustine

Since writing on Wednesday about working hard and zealously for God, I have been thinking about quite the opposite. Well, what I've been thinking about is not exactly the opposite, but rather the compliment, the harmony to hard work. In particular, I have been thinking about how for every ounce of hard work we put into the Christian life, at the exact same time we should put in an ounce of trust and abandonment to the will of God.

I've noticed that so many things in being a disciple of Christ involve seemingly incompatible paradoxes like this. "The first shall be last and the last shall be first." "The greatest among you shall be your servant." "Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." Over and over again, we find that as Christians we must embrace two incredible extremes. We must have magnanimity and desire the glory of heaven, but we must also have humility and despise the glory of this earth. We are called to love our enemy, even though he may truly remain our enemy. We are asked to give up our very lives out of love for a greater life.

As Christians, then, we are called to be extreme in every way, and after writing on Wednesday about the need for hard work, I began to think about how there is also need for extreme abandonment. Like the other paradoxes, this seems impossible to us. It seems that either you work really hard, in which you take things into your own hands, or you don't do anything, and you wait for God to make up His mind about you. How can we apply ourselves and abandon ourselves at the same time?

And yet, there does seem to be a way to do exactly this, but it involves a personal poverty that many of us are simply not willing to embrace. The key to the problem, I believe, is the distinction between the work we do, and the results we see. So often, when we go to apply ourselves in the field of work we do so already attached to the results we will see. We think to ourselves "If I do this, then this WILL happen." It's natural for us to go to work with an end in mind, aiming towards a goal. If we didn't have this goal, we wouldn't work. The true poverty of abandonment, though, is that we recognize when we go to work, God will bring about the end that He desires. We are not the ultimate determining factor of the results of our work; God is.

Indeed, we find that often we put our hand to the plough and we reap exactly the fruits we were looking for. However, just as often, we put our hand to the plough and we find that the result is far from what we had expected or hoped for. We can put in great amounts of effort, pain, and sweat and in the end we are left with a result wholly unlooked for and wholly unwanted. What happens is not what we intended to happen, and we ask ourselves, "Why didn't this work? Why did I not get what I worked for, what I wanted?" We can become bitter, as if God did not answer our prayers. Indeed, from our own point of view it often seems that He has not answered our prayers.

And yet, if we had trust in God and truly united our wills to Him, the experience of disappointed work would be so different. We would find that during the work, we would focus more on the work and less on the end. We would find ourselves doing a better job without the pressure of having to bring everything about on our own. When disappointments came, we would have more peace and less turmoil in our souls because we would know that the true result of our work is not this or that earthly fruit, but rather it is closeness and union with God. We would find that, even if the fruit of our work ends up being disappointing and perhaps even painful for us, the work itself still has value in making us more in love with God.

The value of our work, of our hard effort, then, is not the results we see here on earth, but the results we will see in heaven. The true value of work is that it brings us closer to the greatest worker of all, the Creator and Redeemer. This aspect of work can only be seen, though, if we let go of the earthly fruit. We have to be poor; we cannot attach ourselves to our goals. We must be willing to work hard and allow God to bring us the fruit we need. To be a true Christian, then, a true follower of Christ, we must possess both extremes. We have to work as though everything depended on us, and pray as though everything depended on God.

On fear of hardship and work

From time to time, in the life of a married man, he is briefly relieved of the responsibilities of work and family life, and for a brief moment, he is returned to the state of bachelorhood. On the one hand, these moments act as a type of oasis in that he is reminded of the joys of being on his own and coming up with his own schedule. On the other hand, these moments are times of terrible desert, reminding the man of his utter helplessness and insufficiency. In short, when Liz and Alan left for Memorial Day weekend, I found that I could stay out as late as I wanted, but the apartment and the food were both missing something terribly important.

However, this post is not meant to be about the utter dependence of a man on his family (though that is certainly worthy of a post.) This post is meant to explain what I learned from what I did during the weekend. And what I did was this: I immersed myself in the worlds of other people through the lenses of assorted professional filmmakers trying to win various awards so that they can make money. In other words, I watched a number of documentaries because I finished my book on the first day and didn't know what new book to start.

Thus, I found myself Sunday night sitting in my office becoming acquainted with three young men from the Sudan. The specific documentary I watched was "God Grew Tired of Us", a terrible name for a rather good story (it was made by National Geographic, what can you expect). This particular documentary followed the story of three young men who were just children at the beginning of the civil war in Sudan. These three young men, accompanied by thousands of children, fled their homes out of fear of violence and trekked all over Sudan, into Ethiopia, and finally into Kenya. There, the UN settled them in a refugee camp until the violence was over, and so there they have been stuck for over a decade.

However, in the early 2000's, the United States agreed to allow some of these children, nicknamed "the lost boys and girls," to come to the US as refugees. I assume they did this out of humanitarian concerns and not simply as a premise for a good documentary. Anyways, this documentary follows three of these young men for five years as they become acquainted with living in the United States. During their first years, the young men face a number of staggering obstacles, including retaining their own culture, finding jobs, discerning how to help the people back home, etc. Any one of the obstacles they had to face would have been tremendous on its own, and together they make you wonder how these young men will ever survive.

But they do, and they don't just survive, but at least two of them seem to truly thrive in their own environments. And one of the characteristics that seems to mark each of these young man is a fearlessness when it comes to work. Despite having seen incredible suffering and having been dealt by life one of the worst hands possible, each of these young men were so focused on what they wanted that they were willing to work as hard as possible to achieve it. Indeed, all three young men work two or three jobs, sending back to Africa significant portions of their pay so as to better the lives of the people there. In fact, their dedication to their goals reminded of something I once read about dedication:

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Well, I do not run aimlessly, I do not box as one beating the air; but I pommel my body and subdue it, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified." 1 Corinthians 9: 24-27

The tenacity and perseverance that these young men displayed in trying to better their earthly circumstances reminded me of what I should be doing to better my eternal circumstances. So often in life, it seems that we aim for the easiest way instead of the best. We hope that if we put in the minimal amount of effort possible, we'll sneak by and still have laurels for us to rest on. I know that one of my great temptations is to avoid something when it's hard; to say, "I don't have time; I need to rest."

Yet, I also know that this is not what I truly want, not in this life at least. In this life, we are called to work in the vineyard, to bear the heat of the day with the Lord. We shouldn't want to be workers who lounge around all day, hoping to be called into the vineyard right before quitting time. We shouldn't look to shrug off our crosses when the Person we are walking next too is Our Heart's Desire. Every day, we are given the opportunity through our work to come closer to Christ, and so often through laziness we fail. Yet, if three young men from the Sudan are willing to work three jobs in order to have a better life, shouldn't we be willing to do so much more in order to have eternal life? In order to gain Him?

This too shall pass...

There are so many occasions in our life where we have the opportunity to worry and become anxious. Indeed, anxiety seems to be so common to the descendants of Adam and Eve that an alien coming to Earth would most likely assume that it is part of our nature. Whether it be work, school, finances or just simply the future, we seem to be constantly fretting and worrying about something. For many, their entire lives are spent going from one worry to the next, never experiencing the rest Christ promised to all those "who labor and are weary." (Mt. 11: 28). We become in a hurry to get things done. We compare ourselves to others, wondering why we aren't as perfect as them. And all this time, we are missing out on a Love and a meaning that would satisfy our anxieties. "Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee." - St. Augustine

As with most any part of human nature, men have found a way today to market anxiety. It is the goal of almost all the major news networks to breed anxiety in the souls of their viewers. Fox News, MSNBC, CNN - all these networks aim at making the soul disquieted so that people will feel like they have to watch more. They fill screens with images and stories of evil, suffering, and tragedies. They want to make people so worried about the world around them that they'll keep coming back to catch the "latest." They'll inflate the smallest stories into world ending catastrophes with blazing graphics so that they can sell more advertisement space. Of course, the advertisers don't mind if your anxious, because like every salesman of old they have the remedy to all your problems. The more problems you have, the more "remedies" you'll buy.

But truth be told, many of us like feeling anxious, otherwise we wouldn't so willingly engage in the anxiety of the world. We like the feeling of being at a critical point in our lives or in history, when in truth we may be at an extremely normal point in our lives or in history. Anxiety both begets and is begotten by the notion that we are the center of the universe, and ever since Adam and Eve tried to be like God without God, we've tried our hardest to actually make ourselves the center of the universe. In the process, we've made ourselves miserable with anxiety, but being all important is too important for us to give up. Anxiety gives us a sense of martyrdom, the sense that we are unjustly suffering in a cruel world.

However, the funny thing about true martyrs, those individuals who believe so strongly in Christ that they're willing to die for Him, is that they were often the least anxious people around. Indeed, many of the stories of early Christian martyrs tell how when they were being fed to the lions, they would sing. They weren't singing the blues, though, they were singing for joy, joy at being so near to entering into the Beatific Vision of God. They knew something very important, they knew that "this too shall pass".

What made the martyrs at peace with death was that they clearly saw things as they are. They knew that the minor trials and tribulations of life, such as man eating lions, were rather unimportant nuisances compared to the great undertakings of the Christian life - Faith, Hope, and Charity. For them, living a life filled with these three theological virtues was all important; nothing else mattered. They knew that by living out Faith, Hope, and Charity, they would come into closer union with their heart's desire, God. Only sin could stand in the way of achieving this goal, nothing else mattered. Thus, the only thing the martyrs ever seemed to be anxious about was their own weakness, asking others to pray that they might persevere. The lions didn't scare them, but their own pride and feebleness did. They truly understood the words of St. Paul "Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus Our Lord." (Rom. 8: 38-39).

The answer to all our anxieties has already been given us, we just need to listen like the martyrs did. "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Mt 11: 28-30). Amen.

Where the Republicans go wrong but Democrats go right

On Wednesday, President Obama created the news item of the week by stating that he was personally in favor of gay marriage. Now, for many people this wasn't a surprise as that saying "actions speak louder than words" rings too true for this administration. However, words do make a difference, so it was indeed an occasion of note to have the President of the Unite States come out in support of an untraditional definition of marriage. Indeed, the homosexual lobby was very quick to celebrate this as a victory for their side. They saw it as what it truly was, another affirmation of the idea that sex is whatever you want it to be.

As I stated, though, none of this was surprising. What was surprising (somewhat) was the way in which the Republican party responded to this announcement. The Republican reaction was summarized for me by one of my Facebook friends. This gentleman is one of those people we all have as friends on Facebook, someone we kind of knew a long time ago but have never really kept up with for 5+ years. This particular friend of mine is a die hard Republican, and I would estimate that 99% of his status updates consist of repeating the party line. Now, I don't mean to attack a nameless fellow who has no means of defending himself on this blog, I only wish to point out his status update on Wednesday as typical of the Republican reaction. His status update was this: "Now that we know North Carolinians don't like gay marriage, and Obama does, can we please talk about the abysmal economy, thank you."

Somewhere, the Democrats and homosexual groups responded with, "No, allow us to thank YOU." Indeed, Democrats and homosexuals understand something that the Republicans have failed to grasp: the main thing wrong with society today is not economic policy, but moral policy. While the Republican policy is focused on making people richer so as to win their support, the Democratic party is focused on changing their morals so as to win their support. Both are incredibly powerful means of getting votes, but I would argue that one is more powerful than the other, and the Democrats are going after it. If you can change a person's morality to the point that pleasure becomes a right, then you become the party of "choice," "tolerance," and best of all, "hope".

The Republicans have so far ceded this ground to the liberals that I did not hear one Republican stand up and say, "It's a shame President Obama endorsed gay marriage because in so doing he has endorsed immorality." Indeed, some Republicans even seemed to agree that President Obama's view of morality was right. Fox News' Shep Smith, working for what is largely considered a Republican news network, said this:

"What I'm most curious about is whether it's your belief that -- in this time of rising debts, and medical issues, and all the rest -- if Republicans would go out on a limb and try to make this a campaign issue while sitting very firmly, without much question, on the wrong side of history on it."

So, even on Fox News now the acceptance of homosexual marriage is considered to be the right "side of history." Their key concern with the President's declaration was not that it was further redefining morality, but it's distracting from jobs.

And yet, even the Republicans will acknowledge, unconsciously, that the main problem with this country is a moral one. Indeed, a familiar line of argument from Republicans is that many today need to get rid of a sense of "entitlement." They lay the ever expanding nature of government (which is primarily bad because it hurts the economy) at the feet of "entitlement." By "entitlement" they primarily mean a sense that you are owed an easy life, but truly "entitlement" is more of an addiction to pleasure and comfort than anything else. It is a moral sense that the ultimate good in life is pleasure, comfort, and ease.

Republicans, though, often reinforce this addiction to pleasure and comfort by their own policies. They run on the platform "Smaller government will make us all more rich, and when we're all richer we'll be able to pursue even better pleasures." This is why Republicans don't want to make moral issues important, at their very base, they are strikingly similar to Democrats. Until the Republicans change their morality, then, and start valuing true Good over pleasure, they will never take strong moral stands. They will remain the party of the economy while Democrats pursue their policy of changing the people's morality. If we want true change, though, if we want to bring about a true common good to America, a happiness that will fulfill all men, we must fight the moral program of the Democrats with a moral program of our own. This starts in our own lives, our families, and our communities. If we want to see change, if we want to see true "wealth", we must teach people how to live well.

The Joys of Family Life

It is a very easy thing for a man to lose sight of all those things that make life worth living. For some reason, we face the perennial difficulty of continually valuing that which is not truly valuable in our life. Instead of rejoicing in all that is good, we often become worried and anxious about a lot that really doesn't matter. We tend to focus on the little, unimportant things such as whether we have a nice house or car, whether we're meeting our financial goals, or whether we're seen as popular. We feel anxiety over bills, jobs, opinions and clothes. We lose sleep over projects, quibbles, and hurt pride. We forget about all the good, all the love that Jesus has shared with us.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful things about family life, though, is that if we're willing to look, if we're willing to listen, the love we experience in family life will always lead us back to the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. For instance, during the past two weeks, life has been rather crazy in the Anderson household. We have had a first birthday, a major gala, and a first communion. We've had a number of one-time expenses that have made it hard to keep track of finances. We've gone out a number of times with various friends or family, and had other friends or family over. In short, we have had a normal late April/ early May filled with the hustle and bustle that this time of the year entails. Spring has sprung, and the cabin-fevered inhabitants of Virginia have spilled out of the house into a busy calendar.

With such hustle and bustle comes thousands of questions to preoccupy the mind. How are we getting there? What time does it start? How should we handle having a one-year old there? Can we afford doing this? In short, the questions of who, what, where, when and how keep going through our minds over and over again. But every once and a while, amongst the who's, what's, where's and when's, a WHY sneaks in and makes all the difference.

With such busyness, with such a crazy amount of things to get done, the "why" is the greatest source of joy. Of course, the ultimate "why" for any action should be the glory and love of God. Everything we do, down to the smallest task of brushing our teach, represents an opportunity to love and serve Jesus. But one of the particular joys of the married/parent vocation is that the ultimate "why" to all of life's mysteries is wrapped up in smaller concrete "why's" - namely, the family. As a man, everything I do ought to be for God, and this will be my great joy. As a married man, everything I do ought to be for my wife and son, and this will also be my joy.

During such crazy times, then, when it is so easy to become distracted, the smallest things of family life can lead one's soul into peace again. A simple smile from a baby boy, a loving hug from a caring wife, a word of encouragement from a wise parent, these small concrete things can bring our focus back to where it ought to be. These gestures act as a reminder of who it is I'm called to work for. At Liz's and I's wedding, a close priest friend of ours who was giving the homily asked us to look at one another and see our path to heaven. Since that day, I have only begun to understand this. I still don't fully understand it, I probably never will, but in the nearly two years since that day, it has become plain to me that true joy for a married man is found in the love received from and especially given to his family.

Two weeks and One Year

One of my friends, who also has a blog, told me that a primary reason of his for starting such an online publication was to give himself a sense of a deadline. He said he wanted to write more often, and he felt that by starting a blog he would have readers that were expecting him to right. When he told me this, I immediately identified with the sentiment. Indeed, one of the best (and worst) things about having a blog is the belief, whether substantiated by reality or not, that there is this unknown audience hanging on your every word, checking back often to see if you've written a new post. This belief is one of the best things about a blog because it gives you pleasant delusions of grandeur that your are the next Chesterton or Belloc. This belief is one of the worst things because you quickly realize that you are not the next Chesterton or Belloc, and then you  feel like you're letting down your audience when you haven't posted in several weeks.

Thus, when I logged on today to write a new blog post, I was rather dismayed to find out that my last blog post was dated April 18th. Indeed, an overwhelming sense of despair hit me at that point, because I felt like whatever I had to write today better be good so as to appease the angry mob of readers upset over my lack of writing. However, I quickly realized there is more than one strategy for diffusing make believe angry mobs. One can either win them over with greatness so that they forgive you due to your genius, which is the hard and narrow way. Or, one can grovel, seeking pity and explaining why there has been no post for two weeks. This is the easy and broad way, and it is the one which I have chosen to follow.

So, you see distressed reader, it is not my fault. Have pity. The past two weeks have been very busy at work, and thus I have been rather distracted from this blog. It has been in the back of my mind this whole time. I have thought of you, and thought how I was neglecting you. I have tried to think of quick things I could post on this blog, but then I would get distracted by the work I had to do and I would forget to post anything. I was spending late nights and frantic days helping to plan a major event. But now that event is over, and I am back, and I hope to be more faithful to you now. (Disclaimer: The internet can often be a very poor medium for expressing sarcasm. Thus, please be assured that I do not actually believe I am at the top of your internet reading list.)

However, I do mention the hectic pace of my last two weeks as more than just an excuse to elicit pity and mercy from my readers. I also mention this busy time because it proved to be the context for a quite significant day, and quite a valuable lesson. Right in the middle of all the craziness, on Tuesday, April 24, Liz and I's first born son Alan Joseph Anderson reached the remarkable milestone of turning one year old. The day was filled with much fun, including cousins and cupcakes, and many statements to the effect of "I can't believe it's been a year." 

Now, I know that this experience of your oldest child turning one is rather common for most parents (for those who never experience this, I am truly sorry). But even though I am very used to thinking of babies turning one year old, it was quite a different experience to have mine actually do it. Don't get me wrong, the day itself was rather the same as the one before and the one after (though Alan did seem to be in a better mood because everybody was so happy to see him all day.) Rather, when your own child reaches a milestone like a birthday, it becomes a chance for reflection. It becomes a chance to refocus, to recognize how quickly the time we are given by God is going by. It helps us realize that while there might be so much that seems very important right now, there is also so much the really is important that doesn't seem so.

Indeed, in the midst of the craziness surrounding work, Alan's birthday shown as a beacon. It was a reminder of all that is good and important in life. It reminded me of my primary vocation as a husband and father, not as an employee. It gave me pause to consider my little boy, my son, and how he has grown and how he will grow. It helped me realize how much of his formation is still left to his Mother and I, an exciting and yet terrifying task. In the midst of one of the most busy weeks, my son turned one and enjoyed cupcakes with blue frosting. That occasion, that event, will stick with me longer than anything I've done or will do at work. Indeed, it is one of the great joys of fatherhood to watch your child become a year older. It is also a great joy to have such a concrete reminder that work is not everything.

Docility and the School of Life

As some may have picked up from several of my more recent blog postings, I have been particularly struck of late by the virtue of humility. This is not to say that I have been particularly adept at practicing this virtue, but rather it has stood out in my mind over the past several weeks as a goal worthy of a renewed effort. My efforts have been successful at times, and utterly disastrous at others, but through it all Our Lord has been there, whether I have seen Him or not. He has been behind every lesson, every curve ball that life has thrown my way as I try to give up myself, and His Presence has been most reassuring.

But as I was meditating on humility this morning, I was struck by another one of its beautiful aspects: it leads to docility. Often times these two virtues, docility and humility, are equated with one another. For many, they are simply synonymous. There is a real difference, though, between them. Humility is primarily an abandonment of all false notions of grandeur about oneself. It is a recognition of reality, of realizing how low we truly are. To gain humility, we must break through the false notions regarding our own goodness and recognize things as they are. When we become humble, we will see ourselves as good in as far as we are in the image and likeness of God, but we will also begin to see how weak our sins, our failings have made us. We will see how we are in need of God's mercy.

Docility, on the other hand, is primarily a willingness to be taught. It is the virtue by which we are made into good students of man and God. It is that quality by which we accept instruction and correction so as to come to further knowledge. The student who is not docile to his teacher is often rebellious because he believes he is self-sufficient for attaining knowledge. He would rather believe that he already knows everything rather than submit to someone else and learn from them. The docile student, though, will seek after the truth no matter whether it comes from his own abilities of discovery or from the knowledge already possessed by a teacher. For one who is docile, the truth is all that matters, not how he comes to know it. So, he will recognize that there are those around him who have attained to some knowledge of the truth, and he will be willing to submit to their instruction so as to gain a glimpse for himself.

Docility, then, is rooted in the valuation of truth above pride. Thus, before one can be docile, one must be humble. If we are to be prideful and stoke the fires of our own self-worth, we will find that we will not be willing to listen to anyone else. Using hyperbole, the sentiment of the proud student is expressed thus: "Why would I need to listen to anybody else? I am so great and wonderful that I can find truth all on my own." Now, very few people think these exact words, but there are many people who act as if this is what they think. For example, many go about scoffing at tradition (which is only another kind of teacher) while claiming they know better than everyone who came before. These are often the people that think being "medieval" is a thoroughly bad thing. They have a pride rooted in "time-ism" which is similar to racism; it is the unjust and unfair bias against someone else based on an inconsequential circumstance, namely that we have been born after those who came before.

With humility, though, we gain the ability to listen to others, including those who came before. When we are not the source of all truth, when we recognize our littleness, then we can listen to others. In particular, we begin to become docile to the lessons God seeks to teach us through our own lives. Without humility, curve balls and unexpected events in our lives become burdens. If we are constantly seeking, in our pride, to be in control of all that happens to us we'll find such unexpected events burdensome. We'll be aggravated that this or that is happening. We'll mutter saying, "Why did they ask ME this? Or why did this happen to ME?"

But if we're humble, if we're truly being docile to the teachings of Jesus, we'll find that these unexpected events are opportunities to learn. They are opportunities for Christ to expand us, to take us out of our comfort zone, to draw us to rely on Him more and more. They further our humility and docility, so that we begin to learn from all the daily circumstances of our lives. The unexpected event can help teach us how all of our experience is a lesson from God's Divine Providence. In humility and docility, every phone call at work, every supper made for family, every diaper changed truly does become an opportunity to know Christ better. In turn, then, our own pride is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to us.

Easter Friday

The celebrations of Christmas and Easter hold such an importance in the Church's spiritual life that she gives them each an Octave: eight days of Solemnity, of celebrating, after the actual day. These are eight days where the Church says it literally is the same day. So, for eight days it IS Christmas, and for eight days it IS Easter.

However, though the Church may say it is the same day, Father Time rolls right along bringing us one day after another. Thus, we end up with the rather odd occurrence of an Easter Friday. I say this is rather odd, because Friday is normally a time to meditate on the Crucifixion and Death of Christ, and Easter is normally a time to meditate on the Resurrection. Indeed, there is often a sentiment among Catholics to the effect of, "Well, we've just meditated for forty days about Jesus's death, now we need to think about His Resurrection."

We tend to separate in our minds the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, which is often very fitting and right to do. They did take place at two separate times, and indeed the scenes that we use to imagine these monumental events are rather different. For the Crucifixion we envision a bare hill with a dark sky, while the Resurrection rightfully brings to mind the sight of a garden and tomb. The physical and temporal distinctness of each event makes it natural to think of them apart from each other.

Meditating on them separately, too, can often bear great fruit in our relationship with Christ. By focusing on each event, we're able to discover more about them. By focusing only on the Crucifixion during Lent we're (hopefully) able to come to a more full understanding of Christ's sacrifice for us. We are plunged into the mystery of His suffering, of His humanity. We are called to wrestle with the fact that God would die for us. Likewise, in Easter, in meditating solely on the Resurrection, we're confronted with the power of Jesus over death. We learn that His death is not the end, and through His grace He leads into everlasting life.

However, while it is often beneficial to think of each mystery on its own, Easter Friday presents a whole new opportunity for us. On this day, the Resurrection is placed before our eyes by the Church, and the Crucifixion is placed before our eyes by Father Time. Because it is Friday we are confronted with His death, and at the same time because it is Easter we are confronted with His Resurrection. Today, then, marks the perfect opportunity to remind ourselves of the deep and intimate connection between the two. While historical and liturgical circumstances are often conducive to think of them separately, this day of the year is more conducive to thinking of them inextricably tied together.

And, indeed, one simply cannot be fully understood without the other. Good Friday, without Easter, becomes a simply tragic tale. Without His Resurrection, Christ's death on the Cross takes on the character of a true defeat. Yes, He died for us, but if He does not conquer death then it is death that conquers Him. He can still act as an expiation for our sins, offering Himself up to appease God's justice, but without the Resurrection He does not lead us into a new life.

Similarly, the Resurrection only makes sense in light of Christ's death on the Cross. First, and most plainly, Christ could not rise from the dead if He had not actually died. In order to overcome death, it was required that He actually grapple with it and confront it. He didn't wish to simply wave a magic wand to bring us to new life, He lead the way Himself. Furthermore, the Resurrection completes the sacrifice made on Good Friday. His sacrifice was not in vain, but was instead effective. He did not simply suffer, He conquered. He did both. And in so doing, He was able to both provide expiation, payment, for our sins and give us something that we had never had before. Like the Church says, "O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!" ~Easter Exsultet.

The Cross and the Resurrection, then, are both necessary. In our own lives we must make this reality of Christ present again, too. We must know that we cannot come to the Resurrection, the Glory of Christ, without first passing through the Cross. To be like Christ, we must suffer, we must become like Him in every way. If "it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (Gal. 2:20) then we must become like the description of Christ in St. Paul's letter to the Philippians "Being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore, God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name." (Phl 2: 8-9). We must live both, we must live the Cross and in so doing we will also live the Resurrection.

Easter Friday, then, presents the perfect opportunity for meditation on this union of the suffering and glory of Christ. Interestingly, the Church does teach that "Easter" trumps "Friday" today. Unlike other Fridays during the year, we are not called to do penance today. Indeed, the Church actually allows the eating of meat on this Friday. These concessions of the Church teach a valuable lesson, then. Even though the Cross and Resurrection our intimately united, one is ordered to the other. One finds its fulfillment in the other. The Resurrection is Christ's greatest achievement, and it is the source of our joy. Though the two mysteries make up the one mystery of our salvation, it is the Resurrection that is the fulfillment. So, enjoy your Easter Friday today, and eat some meat!

The Living amongst the Dead

"But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices which they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel; and as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" Luke 24: 1-5 

For nearly 2,000 years now, men and women have lived and died for the belief that Jesus the Christ died, was buried, and on the third day rose again. The Resurrection, and thus Easter, lies at the very heart of the Christian life. Those who fail to believe in the Resurrection, fail to truly understand who Jesus is, and in so doing they fail to be able to have a relationship with Him as He hopes for. It is impossible to know Jesus if we do not believe in the Resurrection, as the angels so clearly point out "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" If we fail to believe in the Resurrection, we will begin to believe that He is dead, and if we believe He is dead, we will not find Him.

This simple failure to believe in the Resurrection is much more common in ourselves, though, than we may think. We don't have to publicly renounce the Resurrection of Christ to fail to believe in it in our own lives. For instance, how often to we remind ourselves that His heart still beats, His hair still exists, He even still has fingers and toes. So often times in our lives, we fall into the trap of making Jesus into a theoretical person, or a storybook character. When we pray, we forget we are talking to One who has ears just like we do. We instead make Jesus into a purely intellectual reality, which is the ultimate temptation to all of those who pray. The devil wants us to look amongst the dead for Him so that perhaps we might fall in and become dead ourselves. But we must recognize that He is alive, that He does still have His body, and that He then shares His body with us in the Eucharist.

To love Jesus, then, is to love someone who still lives, to be united to a living Person. In our relationship with Him, we do not follow a corpse. Many people today do follow corpses when they follow Buddha, or Marx, or even the American founders. These leaders are great men and women from the past who while alive did magnificent things, but in the end died and became dust. As Hamlet so rightly says of Caesar, "O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!" Unto dust these men have returned. Their ideas linger, but we cannot have a relationship with ideas the way we have a relationship with other men. No, that requires life.

Now, in one fashion we can say that we can have a relationship with men who have died, for their souls linger on. But Christ desired that we have a closer relationship with Himself, and He desired that this relationship should draw us into a New Life. So, He led the way, and defeated death and rose again, taking on new life. For, the Resurrection did not simply reanimate Christ's body. He did not simply become alive again, as some people do when they die for a time and are brought back to life with medicine. These people will die again some day; they have not conquered death, only delayed it. But Christ Himself conquered it, vanquishing it once for all so that it now has no power over Him. His Resurrected Body is not bound by the limitations of death; it can now do such things as vanish into thin air as it did for the apostles going to Emmaus, or enter locked rooms as it did with the Apostles.

The Resurrected Christ lives a true life - one that is not afraid of death. And when we love Him, He invites us to become partakers of this same life. We are called, in our relationship with Christ, to experience the Resurrection. Of course, in this life this experience of the Resurrection is only a foretaste; we are still destined to die. We are called to follow Christ into death and trust that He will raise us. But before death, we can participate in the Resurrected life of Christ by openly accepting His graces that He won for us through His Passion and Resurrection. We can come to know Him, to love Him, to dwell in His resurrected life. And it is this foretaste, this dwelling in His Resurrection, that He will use to raise us on the last day.

This Easter season, let us always remember that the Resurrection is not just another story found in the Gospels. Let us recall that Christ is not like George Washington or Caesar, great in their own right but dead in the past. Instead, this Easter may we become more and more convinced in the present reality of the Resurrection. May we place all our hope in it and draw from it all of our joy. Let us avoid looking for the living amongst the dead.

Holy Week and Triduum

Here we are. After nearly 40 days of Lent, after making resolutions, after sometimes failing to keep them, we've come upon the time that we've eagerly been preparing for. In just over 24 hours, the holiest days of the Christian year will be upon us. Three days, the Triduum, to commemorate the mystery of our salvation, the mystery of God's love for us even in our sinfulness. His humility, His mercy, His willingness to bring us out of ourselves and closer to Him - all of these beautiful qualities of God will be on display through the Scripture and Liturgies of the next few days.

It'll fly by. It always goes far too fast. It seems like you just walked into the church on Thursday night for the Mass of Our Lord's Supper when you walk into it again on Sunday for the Mass of Our Lord's Resurrection. Even these days of desert preparation, interrupted by feast days giving witness to the uncontainable nature of Christian joy, fly by. But Holy Week especially goes far too fast. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday... there is a quiet that settles over everything. We feel it in our activity, in the liturgy: something big is about to happen. I'm sure the apostles felt it as well when they were with Our Lord in Jerusalem that week. "Where is He going, what will He do?" How they must have been eager to see what the Lord's mission truly was.

But when the mission, when his "hour", came, they scattered. The very thing they were eager to see they fled from, because they had envisioned something far different. They did not expect the suffering He was to undergo. They did not imagine the sacrifices that might be asked of them. Their action spoke louder than words, "Lord, I will love you like this, not like that." They limited God's love, confining it to their human understanding. Only a few like Mary and John accepted whatever the Lord would give. They were docile to His love, they said "Lord, love me as you wish, and I will love you in return."

This Triduum, though it is set to go by so quickly, we too must be docile like this. Some of us will be given amazing Triduum's. We will go to Church each day filled with enthusiasm. We will feel the deepest sorrow on Good Friday and the greatest joy on Easter Sunday. If this happens to us then we must rejoice, for this is how God has chosen to love us. On the other hand, some of us will go to Church each day searching for God. We will be distracted, tired, grumpy from fasting. We'll try to concentrate and we won't be able to. We'll wake up on Easter morning and feel like we've wasted the Triduum, and now we have to wait a year to do it again. Rejoice, for this is how God has chosen to love us!

God does not ask us to be in a certain emotional state during this time. To a large extent, He will determine what we feel when presented with this mysteries. What we're called to do, what we're always called to do, is to respond to however He shows His love for us by loving Him in return. This Triduum, if we really want to get the most out of these three days, we must accept and give the most. We need to accept God's love for us in whatever way He shows it to us. In turn, we must love Him and be faithful to Him in all the little activities of our lives.

Holy Week, the Triduum. We are in the midst of times that ought to change our lives. The mystery of the Cross and Resurrection should teach us that God does love us, even if it's not how we'd expect Him to. Indeed, how He chooses to love us is often far greater than what we could expect. Who could have expected the true magnitude of the Crucifixion? Who could have guessed at the true glory of the Resurrection? Jesus always pours out His love for us in new and unexpected ways. And over the next few days, we will have the chance to experience that anew, again, for our selves. These can be days that change our lives, but we must let them. We must let Him.

Easier for a camel

There is nothing like growing up in a super power to teach you what wealth is. The experience of unprecedented material comfort swiftly instructs man in the goodness of all the lower things. Unfortunately, such wealth and prosperity tend to be terrible teachers of the virtue of poverty. And without the virtue of poverty, we really lose all the wealth of the soul.

As modern day Americans, we face the daunting challenge of trying to get to heaven while living in an incredibly rich society. Indeed, this is a specific struggle Jesus warned us about when he said, "Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God" (Mt. 19:24). Even if we believe that by "eye of a needle" Jesus meant a small gate in the walls of Jerusalem, His basic point remains the same: it is very hard for rich people to get to heaven.

However, in many sermons that I have heard about this passage, I seem to have always heard the same watered down theme: don't worry, you can still be rich and get to heaven; Jesus was just talking about "poverty of spirit." The current understanding of the virtue of poverty seems to be that you can have all the material goods you want as long as you aren't attached to them. Don't worry if you have a large number of cars, or if you have a massive house. As long as you aren't attached to these things, everything's fine.

But I wonder if that is totally true. For, it seems to me, that when we have a large number of things we necessarily tend to grow attached to them. We begin by saying of this or that thing, "wouldn't it be nice if we had this?" Wouldn't it be nice if we had a second car? Wouldn't it be nice if we had a third? Wouldn't it be nice if we had an espresso maker? Wouldn't it be nice if we had a bigger TV? When it comes to material goods, especially in America, the desire for them always begins in the desire for a luxury, but then it ends in a longing for a need. "How would we ever do without our second or third car? I don't know how I could get through the day without my morning espresso. If we go back to a smaller TV, how would we be able to see anything?" What started out as a luxury becomes a necessity, and we become attached.

This tendency to make luxuries into necessities, to value comfort often at the cost of sensibility, is what Our Lord was really talking about when He spoke of the eye of the needle. The possession of large amounts of material wealth makes it very difficult to be detached from material wealth. Whenever somebody possesses material wealth, which in America is almost everybody, myself included, we tend to become attached to it. We tend to think that this wealth, this luxury is something we really need.

The root cause of this tendency to become attached to wealth lies in the fact that man is incarnate and fallen. When I say he is incarnate, I mean that all of man's knowledge, all of his experience, begins with the senses. Sensible things are the first things that are available to us, and thus it is easier for us to know them. And, because we are fallen, we tend to stay in the realm of the senses. Our tendency away from God becomes a tendency towards lower things. For instance, we can see, hear, and smell all the things in nature around us, but we can't see, hear, and smell the virtues of charity or hope. It's so easy for us to enjoy the taste of a good cup of coffee, but it's so hard for us to enjoy the virtue of prudence. Thus, we tend towards pleasure, towards gratifying sensual desires at the expense of the higher, intellectual things.

Because of this, material wealth presents a temptation for us. Even though it is rightly said not to be evil in and of itself, wealth is a great temptation because it provides us with the means to satiate our earthly desires. It makes it possible to distract ourselves to death, literally. It makes it possible to never think about the higher things, because we are always made fat and content.

If we're to live a true union with God, then, one of the first places we might want to start is in embracing poverty. While true poverty, the poverty that denies the necessities of life to some, is an evil that needs to be eliminated, we can live out a type of "not having" that is good. We can embrace not having all the luxuries of our contemporaries. We can choose to live simpler, with less entertainment and some more suffering. We do this to teach ourselves what's most important in life, to reorder all of our desires so that we don't favor what is lower, but instead favor God above all else. If we're serious about the spiritual life, than I wonder how we can possibly choose to become rich when Jesus warns us that wealth makes it so much harder to come into His kingdom.

Lessons from Lenten Penances

During the past few weeks, I have found myself wondering what late February, March, and early April are like to non-Catholics, and I imagine that this time of the year must be rather boring. We are far enough away from Christmas and New Years that the excitement of the holidays has thoroughly faded (especially since modern man celebrates the holidays during November and December), and we are still far enough away from summer that they cannot yet get excited about all that that season brings with it (though this year, the weather has allowed for some excitement far earlier than normal). So, when I imagine going through these forty days of the year as a non-Catholic, I must say it seems rather boring; so much so that I do believe I would rather go through Lent than have to live through the doldrums of February and March twiddling my thumbs.

In particular, my preference for Lent would mainly be due to one reason: a time of penance is a great teacher of the soul, and times of quiet in life and nature ultimately cannot be appreciated without the lessens that penance teaches us. In other words, I would be able to enjoy the grayness of February and March if I had already been through Lent, but not without it. If there is one thing that penance particularly teaches the souls, it is exactly the lesson that is necessary to enjoy February or March; namely, joy is possible no matter what circumstances surround you.

The reason penance is so adept at teaching this lesson of unalterable joy is because it curbs our wills. Many in the word today view penance simply as a type of Christian masochism. Indeed, they're only real encounter with penance comes from the likes of The Davinci Code and its self-flagellating albino monk. They see it as something extreme, something that only the fanatics do. And, in their mind, it is a fanaticism that is akin to masochism. For them, penance must be a sort of enjoyment of pain. It is a perversion of the natural order caused by what they view as a similar perversion - dogma. For modern man, there is no way that penance can be good unless you are twisted enough to enjoy pain, and there is no way you can be this twisted unless you also enjoy faith.

However, like many other good things, the modern world totally misses the point of what it criticizes when it attacks penance. It sets up a straw man in front of a strong man and then mocks the scarecrow for its lack of strength. What I mean is this: the modern world says the point of penance is to enjoy pain, when in fact it is quite the opposite. The point of penance is to not enjoy something, and by not enjoying it, curb one's own will. It's particularly the unenjoyable part of penance that makes it worthwhile. By denying ourselves goods of pleasure or comfort, we deny our own will. We learn how to live when things are not going our way, when circumstances in or out of our control are not favorable to us. Most of all, we learn how to be joyful in all of these circumstances.

I was reminded of this important point when reading a passage from St. Therese of Liseiux last night regarding her vocation. For those who might not know the story of St. Therese, she was a young woman in France who fell deeply in love with Our Lord. From her earliest years she wished to give her whole life to Jesus by living a life of prayer in a Carmelite convent. So strong was her desire, that she actually sought to enter the convent at the tender age of 15, instead of the customary age of 21. However, in order to do so, she had to get her bishop's permission. During this process, she was asked by Our Lord to wait. Particularly hard for her was the fact that she wished to enter on Christmas Day, but was asked to wait several more months until after Lent. Here is how she responded to that:

"How did these three months pass? They were fruitful in sufferings and still more so in other graces. At first the thought came into my mind that I would not put any extra restraint on myself, I would lead a life somewhat less strictly ordered than was my custom. But Our Lord made me understand the benefit I might derive from this time He had granted me, and I then resolved to give myself up to a more serious and mortified life. When I say mortified, I do not mean that I imitated the penances of the Saints; far from resembling those beautiful souls who have practised all sorts of mortifications from their infancy, I made mine consist in simply checking my inclinations, keeping back an impatient answer, doing little services to those around me without setting store thereby, and a hundred other things of the kind. By practising these trifles I prepared myself to become the Spouse of Jesus, and I can never tell you, Mother, how much the added delay helped me to grow in abandonment, in humility, and in other virtues." (Story of a Soul, end of Chapter 6, emphasis added)

As she so often does, St. Therese gets right to the heart of the matter. She identifies the very essence of what mortification and penances are all about: "checking my inclinations." And this is what Lent is all about. Lent and its penances are meant to teach us disciples of Christ how to check our own wills, our own inclinations. This time in our liturgical calendar is meant to help us give up our own will and by doing so find true joy in doing God's will. If we continually are trying to impose our will on creation, we will be miserable. We will find that no matter how hard we wish it, we will not simply become rich, or be treated with admiration by all, or even make it any less gray outside. But if we do give up our will, if we do curb our inclinations and in turn join our will to God's, we will find that all these things bring joy to us.

And here is where another aspect of St. Therese's words come in. Note how, in this paragraph from her autobiography, she specifically mentions that she doesn't perform great acts of penance like the saints did. Her mortifications are small, and they are the stuff of every day life. Serving those around her. Keeping back an impatient answer. These are situations that arise each day, and yet they often become moments of asserting our own will. The penitential season of Lent provides us with an opportunity to take advantage of disagreeable daily circumstances. It should teach us that every day we are given chances to give up what we want and accept the gift of life as it comes to us from God. Ordinary life ought to teach us humility, and in turn humility ought to teach us gratitude, and in the end gratitude towards God will make us more in Love with Him.

This is why February and March cannot be enjoyable without Lent, and why I would never give up a Lenten February and March for non-Lenten ones. Through Lent, we learn that our own wills are often out of control. We try to force our desires on the world, and through penance we curb these desires. When we curb these desires, we begin to accept things as they are given to us instead of wishing things were different. And when we begin to accept things as they come, we can truly be thankful for them, praising God for the blessings He grants us in life. Lent, then, is truly an opportunity to learn how to live as God meant us to live, accepting everything from Him in a spirit of joy and love, and sharing this joy and love with those around us. No wonder the Eastern Church calls this time "Great Lent."

Grumble grumble grumble ...

There are many sins that man has gotten proficient at since the fall, but there seems to be none he performs with more ease than grumbling. Indeed, it may very well have been the first response to the Fall. It is very easy to imagine Adam saying, "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree" in a half mumbled grumble sort of tone. Ever since then, man has continued grumbling. Whether it be Israel in the desert longing for the fleshpots of Egypt, or the apostles in the storm complaining that Our Lord was asleep, it seems that man is truly adept at being miserable in whatever circumstances he finds himself in.

Anybody with a brief knowledge of Facebook would see that this trend from biblical times has indeed continued today. Status updates our often filled with expressions of "bleh" or "ugh", followed by some sort of complaint. But don't get me wrong, I'm not accusing everyone else of this while exempting myself. The last thing I mean to do is grumble about everybody else grumbling. I, too, am more than adept at the art, and I find that I often grumble so much that in order for reality to match up to perception, I would indeed need to be the Cartesian "ego" with the universe revolving around me.

And that really does get to the heart of grumbling: the ego. If grumbling is anything, it really is a matter of pride. It is a reaction to circumstances that we dislike based on the idea "I am owed this" or "My life should be like this." Indeed, a grumble almost always has to do with someone being unjustly injured, whether it be by nature, another person, or the world. However, it's not grumbling simply to point out a wrong. There is great value in saying, "This situation we find ourselves in is wrong," like African American's did during segregation. However, these statements of "I've been wronged" can often become grumbling when we are not actually owed the thing we've been denied. African American's are owed equal treatment; I am not owed praise and adulation from everybody at work when I do my job.

This is why I say that grumbling is most of all a matter of pride; it is based on the assumption than I am more than I am. Statements like "Ugh, my wife is going out tonight, so I have to do the dishes" are based upon the false assumption that I should never have to do dishes (the falseness of this assumption will be readily verified by my wife.) Even grumblings such as "bleh... I am so tired today" are based upon false assumptions - in this case a false belief that I am owed sleep. In fact, though, I am not owed sleep. Sleep is a gift, it is a blessing which I should be thankful for, and when I don't get sleep I should not grumble about it, but instead I should thank God for the other blessings He has given me and move on with my life.

Now, it may seem extreme to say that statements like "I am so tired today" are grumbling and should be avoided, but can we imagine our Lord ever saying this? In fact, I would challenge anybody to find a passage in the Gospels that begins with, "And Jesus grumbled, saying..." Jesus did not grumble. He would speak in love, in joy, in surprise, in exasperation, but not in grumbling. Rather, "like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, he opened not his mouth" (Isa. 53:7). Even in his most intense suffering, Christ would not complain.

The saints, too, are examples of not grumbling. For instance, when Blessed John Paul II first received the pope-mobile with the glass covering, it is said that as he entered it the door slammed on his finger. Without missing a beat, the pope whispered under his breath, "Thank you God for loving me so much." In the Rule, St. Benedict directly addressed grumbling when talking about obedience saying, "If a disciple obeys grudgingly and grumbles, not only aloud but also in his heart, then even though he carries out the order, his action will not be accepted with favor by God, who sees that he is grumbling in his heart." To be a saint is not to grumble, it is to quickly and speedily do the will of God and accept the blessings and tribulations he give us.

Most importantly, though, grumbling is a deadly hindrance to a life of charity. How are we to greet each person as Christ if we grumble about them to ourselves when they're not around? How are we to perform every work out of love when we are so quick to grumble in our hearts if the task is not to our liking? Simply put, love is stifled by grumbling, because love is stifled by pride. If we are going to progress on the way of holiness, then, we must rip out grumbling from our hearts. We have to cease overestimating what is due to us and begin to rejoice in the blessings we do have. In short, we must learn the truth of what St. Paul says: "God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Cor 9:7).

Benedictine Humility: The Opposite of Modernity

One of the true joys of being out of college is that I am now able to go back and really read the books I was assigned in college. For some reason, the busyness and workload of college (and my own poor habits, if we're to be honest) often resulted in texts either being only partially read or too hastily read as to full appreciate them. However, these readings did serve as an introduction to these texts, and when it comes to the good texts of Christendom, all you need is an introduction to fall in love at first sight.

So, it has been a pleasure for me recently to revisit one such text: The Rule of St. Benedict. It's been nearly 6 and 1/2 years since I have had to read the Rule, and sitting down as a father and listening to St. Benedict speak to his sons is both very beautiful and truly peaceful. In particular, I was recently struck by a section in the Rule on Humility. It comes very early on in the work and is only the seventh chapter in the Rule.

While I was reading this section, there were two specific thoughts that struck me about it. First, the idea of humility that he espouses is something totally antithetical to modernity. Where he advocates for lowliness from his monks, many today spend enormous amounts of time exalting themselves on Twitter, Facebook and the like. His encouragement to climb the ladder of humility and abandon self exaltation is something not often heard in status updates. Second, the true simplicity of his writing is astounding. Unlike most of us today, he does not offer many reasons for what he says (outside of citing Scripture, which is the main source for any of his teaching.) Rather than trying to justify everything he says with rational argument, he simply instructs based on the certainty he has regarding these truths, a certainty gained through holy living. His simple "we must do this" or "we are forbidden that" is truly refreshing in a world of a thousand clashing ideas.

But, don't take my word for it. As St. Benedict himself says, "Speaking and teaching are the master's task; the disciple is to be silent and listen." So, here are the words of a true master, one who reflected the love and gentleness of the One True Master.

Chapter 7: On Humility

Holy Scripture, brethren, cries out to us, saying,"Everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, and he who humbles himself shall be exalted" (Luke 14:11). In saying this it shows us that all exaltation is a kind of pride,against which the Prophet proves himself to be on guard when he says, "Lord, my heart is not exalted nor are mine eyes lifted up neither have I walked in great matters, nor in wonders above me" (Ps. 130[131]:1). But how has he acted? "Rather have I been of humble mind& than exalting myself; as a weaned child on its mother's breast, so You solace my soul" (Ps. 130[131]:2).

Hence, brethren,if we wish to reach the very highest point of humility and to arrive speedily at that heavenly exaltation to which ascent is made through the humility of this present life, we must by our ascending actions erect the ladder Jacob saw in his dream, on which Angels appeared to him descending and ascending. By that descent and ascent we must surely understand nothing else than this, that we descend by self-exaltation and ascend by humility. And the ladder thus set up is our life in the world, which the Lord raises up to heaven if our heart is humbled. For we call our body and soul the sides of the ladder, and into these sides our divine vocation has inserted the different steps of humility and discipline we must climb.

The first degree of humility, then, is that a person keep the fear of God before his eyes and beware of ever forgetting it. Let him be ever mindful of all that God has commanded; let his thoughts constantly recur to the hell-fire which will burn for their sins those who despise God, and to the life everlasting which is prepared for those who fear Him. Let him keep himself at every moment from sins and vices, whether of the mind, the tongue, the hands, the feet, or the self-will, and check also the desires of the flesh.  Let a man consider that God is always looking at him from heaven, that his actions are everywhere visible to the divine eyes and are constantly being reported to God by the Angels.

This is what the Prophet shows us when he represents God as ever present within our thoughts, in the words "Searcher of minds and hearts is God" (Ps. 7:10) and again in the words "The Lord knows the thoughts of men" (Ps. 93[94]:11). Again he says, "You have read my thoughts from afar" (Ps. 13[14]9:3) and "The thoughts of people will confess to You" (Ps. 75[76]:11). In order that he may be careful about his wrongful thoughts, therefore, let the faithful brother say constantly in his heart, "Then shall I be spotless before Him, if I have kept myself from my iniquity" (Ps. 17[18]:24).

As for self-will, we are forbidden to do our own will by the Scripture, which says to us, "Turn away from your own will" (Eccles. 18:30), and likewise by the prayer in which we ask God that His will be done in us. And rightly are we taught not to do our own will when we take heed to the warning of Scripture: "There are ways which seem right, but the ends of them plunge into the depths of hell" (Prov. 16:25); and also when we tremble at what is said of the careless: "They are corrupt and have become abominable in their will."

And as for the desires of the flesh, let us believe with the Prophet that God is ever present to us, when he says to the Lord, "Every desire of mine is before You" (Ps. 37[38]:10). We must be on our guard, therefore, against evil desires, for death lies close by the gate of pleasure. Hence the Scripture gives this command: "Go not after your concupiscences" (Eccles. 18:30).

So therefore, since the eyes of the Lord observe the good and the evil (Prov. 15:3) and the Lord is always looking down from heaven on the children of earth "to see if there be anyone who understands and seeks God" (Ps. 13[14]:2), and since our deeds are daily, day and night, reported to the Lord by the Angels assigned to us, we must constantly beware, brethren, as the Prophet says in the Psalm, lest at any time God see us falling into evil ways and becoming unprofitable (Ps. 13[14]:3); and lest, having spared us for the present because in His kindness He awaits our reformation, He say to us in the future, "These things you did, and I held My peace" (Ps. 49[50]:21).

The second degree of humility is that a person love not his own will nor take pleasure in satisfying his desires, but model his actions on the saying of the Lord, "I have come not to do My own will, but the will of Him who sent Me" (John 6:38). It is written also, "Self-will has its punishment, but constraint wins a crown."

The third degree of humility is that a person for love of God submit himself to his Superior in all obedience, imitating the Lord, of whom the Apostle says, "He became obedient even unto death."

The fourth degree of humility is that he hold fast to patience with a silent mind when in this obedience he meets with difficulties and contradictions and even any kind of injustice, enduring all without growing weary or running away. For the Scripture says, "The one who perseveres to the end, is the one who shall be saved" (Matt. 10:22); and again "Let your heart take courage, and wait for the Lord" (Ps. 26[27]:14)! And to show how those who are faithful  ought to endure all things, however contrary, for the Lord,  the Scripture says in the person of the suffering, "For Your sake we are put to death all the day long; we are considered as sheep marked for slaughter" (Ps. 43[44]:22; Rom. 8:36). Then, secure in their hope of a divine recompense,  they go on with joy to declare,  "But in all these trials we conquer, through Him who has granted us His love" (Rom. 8:37).  Again, in another place the Scripture says, "You have tested us, O God; You have tried us as silver is tried, by fire; You have brought us into a snare; You have laid afflictions on our back" (Ps. 65[66]:10-11).  And to show that we ought to be under a Superior, it goes on to say, "You have set men over our heads" (Ps. 65[66]:12).

Moreover, by their patience those faithful ones fulfill the Lord's command in adversities and injuries: when struck on one cheek, they offer the other; when deprived of their tunic, they surrender also their cloak; when forced to go a mile, they go two; with the Apostle Paul they bear with false brethren (2 Cor. 11:26) and bless those who curse them (1 Cor. 4:12).

The fifth degree of humility is that he hide from his Abbot none of the evil thoughts that enter his heart or the sins committed in secret, but that he humbly confess them. The Scripture urges us to this when it says, "Reveal your way to the Lord and hope in Him" (Ps. 36[37]:5) and again, "Confess to the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endures forever" (Ps. 105[106]:1). And the Prophet likewise says, "My offense I have made known to You, and my iniquities I have not covered up. I said: 'I will declare against myself my iniquities to the Lord;' and 'You forgave the wickedness of my heart'" (Ps. 31[32]:5).

The sixth degree of humility is that a monk be content with the poorest and worst of everything, and that in every occupation assigned him he consider himself a bad and worthless workman, saying with the Prophet, "I am brought to nothing and I am without understanding; I have become as a beast of burden before You, and I am always with You" (Ps. 72[73]:22-23).

The seventh degree of humility is that he consider himself lower and of less account than anyone else, and this not only in verbal protestation but also with the most heartfelt inner conviction, humbling himself and saying with the Prophet, "But I am a worm and no man,
the scorn of men and the outcast of the people" (Ps. 21[22]:7). "After being exalted, I have been humbled and covered with confusion" (Pa. 87:16). And again, "It is good for me that You have humbled me, that I may learn Your commandments" (Ps. 118[119]:71,73).

The eighth degree of humility is that a monk do nothing except what is commended by the common Rule of the monastery and the example of the elders.

The ninth degree of humility is that a monk restrain his tongue and keep silence, not speaking until he is questioned. For the Scripture shows that "in much speaking there is no escape from sin" (Prov. 10:19) and that "the talkative man is not stable on the earth" (Ps. 139[140]:12[11]).

The tenth degree of humility is that he be not ready and quick to laugh, for it is written, "The fool lifts up his voice in laughter" (Eccles. 21:23).

The eleventh degree of humility is that when a monk speaks he do so gently and without laughter, humbly and seriously, in few and sensible words, and that he be not noisy in his speech. It is written, "A wise man is known by the fewness of his words" (Sextus, Enchidirion, 134 or 145).

The twelfth degree of humility  is that a monk not only have humility in his heart but also by his very appearance make it always manifest to those who see him. That is to say that whether he is at the Work of God, in the oratory, in the monastery, in the garden, on the road, in the fields or anywhere else, and whether sitting, walking or standing, he should always have his head bowed and his eyes toward the ground. Feeling the guilt of his sins at every moment, he should consider himself already present at the dread Judgment and constantly say in his heart what the publican in the Gospel said with his eyes fixed on the earth: "Lord, I am a sinner and not worthy to lift up my eyes to heaven" (Luke 18:13; Matt. 8:8);and again with the Prophet: "I am bowed down and humbled everywhere" (Ps. 37[38]:7,9; 118[119]:107).

Having climbed all these steps of humility, therefore, the monk will presently come to that perfect love of God which casts out fear. And all those precepts which formerly he had not observed without fear, he will now begin to keep by reason of that love, without any effort, as though naturally and by habit. No longer will his motive be the fear of hell, but rather the love of Christ, good habit and delight in the virtues which the Lord will deign to show forth by the Holy Spirit in His servant now cleansed from vice and sin.

Incarnate Man: Reflections on a Road Trip

Having grown up in Illinois, and now living in Virginia, I often have an opportunity to undergo long drives. And, having married a woman from Michigan, I find that at every major holiday, and at various other less notable times throughout the year, I am given the chance of spending 9-13 hours in a car traveling as fast as the fastest land mammal. Indeed, with such large amounts of time, I am often forced into amateur philosophy sessions that may or may not contribute to the common good. They at least contribute to my sanity, which in itself may or may not contribute to the common good.

Either way, on one such recent road trip, I found my attention captivated by the many signs of man's rational, and often irrational, nature. Passing mile after mile of fenced in fields, lamp posts, signs - it finally occurred to me that someone had to put them all there. For some reason, the mere permanence and repetition of a thing seems to make us think it to be like a tree: a rooted growing organism that at one point before we were born was given being by a natural process. Thus, I found it required a concerted and conscious effort to remember that all the small trappings found along the side of a modern interstate are indeed made by man, not by the hand of God.

However, once the concerted effort was made, I came to a startling realization: every interstate is a rapid succession of untold tales of glory or shame, heroism or villainy, virtue or vice, and we will only hear these tales at the end of time, when all is revealed. Indeed, this realization came to me from bits of St. Thomas that I still remember from a college ethics class. In that class, I read how St. Thomas determines that every action done by a man is either morally good or morally bad. Now, this is not to say that every human action in general is either morally good or bad. Indeed, such mundane actions as brushing one's teeth are neutral in and of themselves. But these neutral actions do take on a moral dimension when performed by an individual man. So, while brushing teeth may be generally neutral, when Mark brushes his teeth because he is excessively concerned with his appearance, his brushing takes on a moral dimension - namely a bad one.

Since each of these lamps along the side of the road are the results of an individual human action, then, it is implied that each lamp is the result of a morally good or morally bad action. Behind each lamp lies a human story as interesting and complex as our very own. Each lamp represents a moment in someone's life when they had the opportunity through their work to either come closer to, or move away from, God. Thus, each lamp, as I see them for just a fleeting second before they pass by, represents a human action that resounds throughout all eternity. Was the man who constructed this one a good or bad man? Did he work solely to indulge in pleasure, or was he laboring so as to raise his children? Even though I hardly notice them, each lamp is a hint at the eternal value of a human action.

Thus, I-70 is not simply a road, it is a theatrical cycle playing out the mysteries of humanity in a language I cannot understand. Unfortunately, being of an Augustinian bent, such reflections can sometimes be overwhelming. Since man has been tainted by original sin, many of his actions are sinful and, thus many of these lamps would have to be monuments to man's continuing rebellion against a God that loves him.

Passing through a city, though, I see two things along the side of the road that set my mind more at easy, and bring my reflections to an end. First, the road reveals neighborhoods with houses. Each neighborhood invokes images of communities based on charity. Perhaps these neighborhoods are not such communities, but good communities do exist, and they are images of the City of God that that same Augustine who wrote about original sin described so beautifully. Each house in these neighborhoods reminds me of the beauty of family life that those walls have seen. Yes, these homes and neighborhoods have seen sin, but they have also seen many Christmases and Easters. All of this reminds me that though man is capable of great evil in this life, he is also capable of great good.

Finally, the road reveals a graveyard, and I am reminded that this life will one day end for each man, and a new life will begin. His actions in this life will determine how that new life is spent, but in the midst of the graveyard there is a cross. Though man will die, though he is sinful, there is still mercy and love. And I pray for mercy for all those who rest in that graveyard along I-70. I wonder if any of them built the lamp posts along the road.

Culture Wars? What Culture Wars?

Whenever I see a headline using the term "culture war," I briefly get my hopes up for what the news article will contain. I think to myself, "Perhaps those on the left have finally become concerned about the works of Charles Dickens being too widely read." Or, "Maybe the executives at MTV have finally realized the danger to their livelihood present in the Corries." But then, when I do click on that link, I am sadly disappointed to realize that the news item being referred to concerns only one of a handful of issues that seem to garner the title of "culture war" issues - abortion, gay marriage, contraception, religious speech in public, etc.

Don't get me wrong: all of these issues are important. What I have been longing for recently, though, is a true culture war, or perhaps even a culture crusade. The usual issues associated with the "culture wars" definitely deserve attention, but they do not necessarily seem to connote a battle between cultures. Rather, it seems to me that these issues are disagreed upon only by different ideologies residing in the same, drab modern culture. And there is a big difference between two different cultures being at war, and two different ideologies.

In fact, those on either side of the "culture wars" seem to abandon all semblance of hostility when it comes to matters of culture; they watch the same TV shows, listen to the same music, read the same books, and generally have the same lifestyles as their opponents. They simply have a different ideology regarding the hot button issues of the day. Disagreements between the "right" and the "left" are put aside so they can watch the Super Bowl together. The tensions between Republicans and Democrats disappear when talking about the goodness of the Industrial Revolution, an issue that should be contended in any true culture war. The differences between "blue" and "red" are differences in intellectual opinions, not differences in culture.

The primary weakness of an ideology or intellectual opinion, though, is that there is an implied separation between it and the rest of life. For those who are simply ideologically liberal, or ideologically Christian, they separate their beliefs from the actions they perform in the rest of their lives. It's as if they were walking modern colleges, with different departments of home-ology, work-ology, fun-ology, and ideology. Ideologies do not have cohesion, they simply wish to remain at the level of ideas and never make a demand on the rest of life.

But culture is a far more demanding, and thus a far more enriching thing. Culture is not satisfied with only the intellect. True culture is a combination of all those things that make man's life human. It includes all his actions: work, home, leisure, and intellect. Culture seeks to unite books, songs, poetry, philosophy, theology, liturgy, art, architecture, economics. A culture is pervasive, it is found in all the parts of a society. It is not content with simply having people believe in its ideas; culture aims to form people to see, hear, smell, touch, taste in a certain way. It wants to make them dream in a certain way, and only then will it make them think in a certain way.

Unfortunately, there is one widespread culture today, and only a few are trying to do anything different. The present culture is, as John Paul II so rightly put it, a culture of death. It is a culture that seeks to destroy human life materially and spiritually. It is a culture that takes children from their mother's womb by taking the mother's ability to think away from her. It saturates us with "entertainment," blasting us with image after image so that our imaginations becomes a blur, and we can no long concentrate on the higher things. Today's culture seeks to bring death to each moment, wishing to make us dull so that we can no longer feel pain or joy.

If we hope to bring about great change, then, we must engage in true cultural war. Right now, so far as I can see, this war is much smaller than the ideological "culture war" that gains the headlines. However, there are those out there who are becoming truly dangerous to the present culture. These people, many of whom I have been blessed to know, are trying to reestablish a Christian culture - a culture that by and large has been lost for the last hundred years. They are trying to live as differently as they can. They live without TV, without modern music. They are relearning the old songs, and celebrating the old feasts. They are writing down the old wisdom in new books, and they are rediscovering all the poetry of Christianity.

Christianity is such a beautiful, rich thing in everything it has to offer. As the Pope has mentioned so many times, Christianity is first and foremost an encounter with the Person of Jesus Christ. It is primarily a relationship. But it is a relationship that is meant to form and affect every singly aspect of human living. A Christian culture, then, is not something strictly resigned to Sundays. Ideological Christianity will isolate itself to Sundays, but Christian culture is something more. It is something that offers to order music, literature, art, and all the rest of culture to Christ. It proposes to direct all human activity to the one purpose of bringing man closer to Jesus. It is a beautiful truth, a beautiful gift from God, and a beautiful example we can offer to the world. 

And as more people become exhausted with the current culture (spiritually and literally), there will be those who have kept alive the old Christian culture as an alternative. You'll know them because they'll be singing and reading. They'll appreciate good craftsmanship, and enjoy good beer. They'll truly work during the week, and they'll truly pray on Sunday. And one day, they'll be the one's making headlines such as, "Shock! Local family reads out loud together" and "Culture War Update: Boys' school learns old Irish tunes instead of Lady Gaga songs." Now those are headlines I can't wait to read.