QOTD - Sacraments, How to Change the World

Ever thought the last time you went to confession could change the world? Think again:

The sacraments are defining moments for Christians - and for the world. - Fr. Kurt Stasiak, OSB

Seven Sacraments Altarpiece by Rogier van der Weyden
Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp

Concupiscence, True Communion, and 'Friends'

I decided to repost my first thoughts posted on blog format. This post originally was written on Monday, June 30, 2008.

It does not correspond to the personal union or 'communion' to which man and woman have been reciprocally called 'from the beginning,' in fact, it is contrary to it, that one of the two persons should exist only as a subject of satisfaction of sexual urge and that the other should become exclusively the object for such satisfaction. Further, it does not correspond to this unity of 'communion'--in fact, it is contrary to it--that both the man and the woman should mutually exist as objects for the satisfaction of sexual urge, and that each of them on his or her own part should be a subject of such satisfaction. Such a 'reduction' of the rich content of reciprocal and perennial attraction among human persons in their masculinity and femininity does not correspond to the 'nature' of the attraction in question. Such a 'reduction,' in fact, extinguishes the meaning proper to man and woman, a meaning that is person and 'of communion,' through which 'the man will... unite with his wife and the two will be one flesh' (Gen 2:4). 'Concupiscence' removes the intentional dimension of the reciprocal existence of man and woman from the personal perspective 'of communion,' which are proper to their perennial and reciprocal attraction, reducing this attraction and, so to speak, driving it toward utilitarian dimension, in whose sphere of influence one human being 'makes use' of another human being, 'using her' only to satisfy his own 'urges.'
Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of the Body by Blessed John Paul II

Friends was one of the big sitcoms in the 90's (you can hear the claps from the theme clap-clap-clap-clap). It had a lot of influence on my generation. Yet, this quote from John Paul II puts forward the basic weakness of the series.

There is a total reduction of the relationship between man and woman to one of sexual satisfaction. The two friends who ended up marrying each other began their intimate relationship with sex. When they hid the 'relationship' from the other friends, they where hiding the fact that they were having sex. To my knowledge, which is limited and finite, and possibly wrong, they didn't go out on a 'date' until it was public knowledge that they were dating.

A relationship which ended in marriage was based and grounded upon a sexual relationship, i.e. sand. This is what my generation saw each week, and it is what John Paul II called the utilitarian dimension, wherein the person of the opposite sex is an object for sexual gratification. The ideal in this dimension is mutual sexual gratification, which, to many nowadays, means a basis for a solid marriage.

Is Collecting Bad?: The Fountain Pen and Our Consumerist Culture

To "have" objects and goods does not in itself perfect the human subject, unless it contributes to the maturing and enrichment of that subject's "being," that is to say unless it contributes to the realization of the human vocation as such ... The danger of the misuse of material goods and the appearance of artificial needs should in no way hinder the regard we have for the new goods and resources placed at our disposal and the use we make of them. - Bl. John Paul II Sollicitudo Rei Socialis 28,29

These seem to be contrary statements, but are rather intended to moderate our use of material goods. We live in  a society that idolizes materiality. I feel like I'm preaching to the choir being that most of us realize this. Realizing it is one thing, and not participating in it, is another thing altogether.

Take myself as a poor example. Back in January, I fell in love with fountain pens (they write so much better than ballpoints). They're messy. They are really nice looking, and they leave you open to an endless possibility of inks.

I loved taking notes with them while in my final semester of classes. I actually no longer took notes on my laptop or iPad. Over the course of six months, I have purchased a total of ... 1, 2, 18 fountain pens. My latest purchase is a set with Benedict XVI's signature on it. I got caught by the collector consumer bug, courtesy of Amazon and eBay. 

Now, seriously Kyle what are you going to do with eighteen fountain pens? Well, I use this one for this and this one for that and that one for signing checks and that one for homilies. I still don't use them all. I gave one to my sister. A few ended up being duds and unusable (which in itself proves the point).

Pens hold a certain nostalgia to them. Some of them make really cool fancy lettering. Some of them just look cool (like the one second from the left in the picture that is made from olive wood from the holy land.) 

Pens can contribute, as Bl. John Paul II, to the realization of the human vocation. They can be used to write down thoughts (I write out my homilies because for me, typing requires less energy and less memory). Thoughts are very important in the realization of the human vocation. They can communicate truth and beauty. But "to 'have' objects and goods does not in itself perfect the human subject." In other words, I don't need 17 pens to write my homily. I only need one. 

Where is the line drawn (no pun intended)? Is collecting things a pursuing something that does not bring us closer to God? Are there moral justifications for collecting, whether it be baseball cards, stamps, or fountain pens? Does such a hobby build us up? Dear reader, these are questions for which I do not have an answer. Sound off if you so desire and let me and others know what you think.

Of Hair and Health Care, by GKC

This is a Chesterton essay that acts as the conclusion of his book What's Wrong with the World. Though written over a century ago, it asks just how far the government can go in matters of health and hygiene. It's pertinence to our current situation cannot be overstated.

A little while ago certain doctors and other persons permitted by modern law to dictate to their shabbier fellow-citizens, sent out an order that all little girls should have their hair cut short. I mean, of course, all little girls whose parents were poor. Many very unhealthy habits are common among rich little girls, but it will be long before any doctors interfere forcibly with them. Now, the case for this particular interference was this, that the poor are pressed down from above into such stinking and suffocating underworlds of squalor, that poor people must not be allowed to have hair, because in their case it must mean lice in the hair. Therefore, the doctors propose to abolish the hair. It never seems to have occurred to them to abolish the lice. Yet it could be done. As is common in most modern discussions the unmentionable thing is the pivot of the whole discussion. It is obvious to any Christian man (that is, to any man with a free soul) that any coercion applied to a cabman's daughter ought, if possible, to be applied to a Cabinet Minister's daughter. I will not ask why the doctors do not, as a matter of fact apply their rule to a Cabinet Minister's daughter. I will not ask, because I know. They do not because they dare not. But what is the excuse they would urge, what is the plausible argument they would use, for thus cutting and clipping poor children and not rich? Their argument would be that the disease is more likely to be in the hair of poor people than of rich. And why? Because the poor children are forced (against all the instincts of the highly domestic working classes) to crowd together in close rooms under a wildly inefficient system of public instruction; and because in one out of the forty children there may be offense. And why? Because the poor man is so ground down by the great rents of the great ground landlords that his wife often has to work as well as he. Therefore she has no time to look after the children, therefore one in forty of them is dirty. Because the workingman has these two persons on top of him, the landlord sitting (literally) on his stomach, and the schoolmaster sitting (literally) on his head, the workingman must allow his little girl's hair, first to be neglected from poverty, next to be poisoned by promiscuity, and, lastly, to be abolished by hygiene. He, perhaps, was proud of his little girl's hair. But he does not count.


Upon this simple principle (or rather precedent) the sociological doctor drives gayly ahead. When a crapulous tyranny crushes men down into the dirt, so that their very hair is dirty, the scientific course is clear. It would be long and laborious to cut off the heads of the tyrants; it is easier to cut off the hair of the slaves. In the same way, if it should ever happen that poor children, screaming with toothache, disturbed any schoolmaster or artistic gentleman, it would be easy to pull out all the teeth of the poor; if their nails were disgustingly dirty, their nails could be plucked out; if their noses were indecently blown, their noses could be cut off. The appearance of our humbler fellow-citizen could be quite strikingly simplified before we had done with him. But all this is not a bit wilder than the brute fact that a doctor can walk into the house of a free man, whose daughter's hair may be as clean as spring flowers, and order him to cut it off. It never seems to strike these people that the lesson of lice in the slums is the wrongness of slums, not the wrongness of hair. Hair is, to say the least of it, a rooted thing. Its enemy (like the other insects and oriental armies of whom we have spoken) sweep upon us but seldom. In truth, it is only by eternal institutions like hair that we can test passing institutions like empires. If a house is so built as to knock a man's head off when he enters it, it is built wrong.


The mob can never rebel unless it is conservative, at least enough to have conserved some reasons for rebelling. It is the most awful thought in all our anarchy, that most of the ancient blows struck for freedom would not be struck at all to-day, because of the obscuration of the clean, popular customs from which they came. The insult that brought down the hammer of Wat Tyler might now be called a medical examination. That which Virginius loathed and avenged as foul slavery might now be praised as free love. The cruel taunt of Foulon, "Let them eat grass," might now be represented as the dying cry of an idealistic vegetarian. Those great scissors of science that would snip off the curls of the poor little school children are ceaselessly snapping closer and closer to cut off all the corners and fringes of the arts and honors of the poor. Soon they will be twisting necks to suit clean collars, and hacking feet to fit new boots. It never seems to strike them that the body is more than raiment; that the Sabbath was made for man; that all institutions shall be judged and damned by whether they have fitted the normal flesh and spirit. It is the test of political sanity to keep your head. It is the test of artistic sanity to keep your hair on.


Now the whole parable and purpose of these last pages, and indeed of all these pages, is this: to assert that we must instantly begin all over again, and begin at the other end. I begin with a little girl's hair. That I know is a good thing at any rate. Whatever else is evil, the pride of a good mother in the beauty of her daughter is good. It is one of those adamantine tendernesses which are the touchstones of every age and race. If other things are against it, other things must go down. If landlords and laws and sciences are against it, landlords and laws and sciences must go down. With the red hair of one she-urchin in the gutter I will set fire to all modern civilization. Because a girl should have long hair, she should have clean hair; because she should have clean hair, she should not have an unclean home: because she should not have an unclean home, she should have a free and leisured mother; because she should have a free mother, she should not have an usurious landlord; because there should not be an usurious landlord, there should be a redistribution of property; because there should be a redistribution of property, there shall be a revolution. That little urchin with the gold-red hair, whom I have just watched toddling past my house, she shall not be lopped and lamed and altered; her hair shall not be cut short like a convict's; no, all the kingdoms of the earth shall be hacked about and mutilated to suit her. She is the human and sacred image; all around her the social fabric shall sway and split and fall; the pillars of society shall be shaken, and the roofs of ages come rushing down, and not one hair of her head shall be harmed.

So, The Health Care Thing

I promised those who know me (the lucky and unlucky few) that I would make no statement on the Health Care Issue until the Supreme Court had made its statement, both its assenting and dissenting statements. My idea in doing this was both practical and penetiential. Too often I speak too quickly, taking on the tone of authority prior to the authority getting its fair chance (for if authority ever carried with it a particular privilege, it is it's right to speak before all others, so that when the others criticise, they can at least know what statement it is they are criticising). It has been over four days since the highest court in the land has made that comment, with five justices saying one thing and four justices saying something completely different. Anyone who knows me knows that I agree with the four that disagreed with the five whose opinion now carries the force of law. But because we live in a country where the fine seperation between force of conscience and force of law is so gladly understood as running parallel to the seperation between Church and state, it is up to us, as citizens, to determine which side to take in the debate (and not up to the Court).

In that spirit, there is only one thing that our President has said that has made me want to stand up in objection. He has said many things that I object to (and many things that I agree with), but this statement alone unleashed the ticklish desire to denounce him. He said that now that the highest court in the land had spoken, that all arguments should cease and that the inevitability of progress should be embraced. The history of this country has taught me otherwise. Should we have let Plessey v. Furguson have the last say simply because it was said by the Supreme Court? If anything, it is when the 'high court' falters that the people, a higher court still, are called upon to argue at the top of their lungs. The beautiful thing about our Republic is that strange and stirring fact that if 5 people sitting on the high bench are wrong, than it is up to the 300 million of us who were not on their bench to refuse to take it sitting down.

Many other writers have expressed more clearly, more concisely and more conscientously the objections to the Health Care Bill. Most of these objections are selfish and unessential to the arguement. But the arguement should still happen. Which brings me to the point of this essay (if calling it a 'point' is truly appropriate). The reason that the now-debated 1st Amendment exists is because the Founding Fathers truly believed that there were areas of the citizen's life over which the government should have no control. Those areas included (but are not limited to) religion, speech and assembly. The current ruling seems to infer that my bodily health is excluded from such protection, that there is no amendment in our Constitution that can prevent the law from investigating the health status of my lungs. Some extremists say that this could lead the government to tax our breathing. The fact that supporters of the bill can only rejoin, "No, but we can tax the person who monitors your breathing" is far from comforting. But whatever they say, they still cannot tax the sounds that come out of my lungs, and that is a comfort.

What is less comforting is the odd truth that the President and his supporters agree with free speech and free love, but have little concern with free health and free religion. They would rather cheap health care and ambivalent religion. They wish to tax both the biological body and bodies of faith, and that which is taxable is neither legally nor finacially free. As a US Citizen, your body and soul now come with a price tag in the eyes of the government, and there is nothing comforting about that fact.

Please do me a favor before I wrap up this short reflection (editorial, manifesto, soliloquy?). Do NOT assume that I side with the GOP or Tea Party on this thing. The only elephant in the room is my large and perhaps naive hope that freedom of speech still stands in this country. When I spoke of us all speaking at the 'top of our lungs,' it is because I believe that that 'top' is of a higher authority than the top court. We might lose our voices, and the government might tax our laryngitis, but they have yet to pass a bill that can tax our words. And as philosophy affirms that the pen is mighiter than the sword, theology affirms that the Word is mightier than the Court.

Why Ray Bradbury Was Right - The Loss of the Culture of the Book

We have another guest post from friends and fellow blogger, Luke Arredondo, from Quiet, Dignity, and Grace. He reflects on a classic of the Twentieth Century, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. I must speak honestly; I've never read the book. However, after this post, it has become a necessary read (after the Hunger Games trilogy, of course).

Re-Visiting a Classic

Ray Bradbury passed away last week at the age 91. I decided to re-read his classic work, Fahrenheit 451 when I heard the news and read his obituary. I tried to rationalize that I didn't have the time, as there are far too many other books I haven't even read once. Why read this one twice? Well, after a few days I picked the book off the shelf and started over again. I'm very glad I did. It has proved extremely rewarding and proved to me that one never reads the same book twice, because you will be a different person the second time you read it.

The edition of Fahrenheit 451 that I have features a post-script and an interview with Bradbury done in the past ten years, commenting on some general features of his writing, with some particular questions about Fahrenheit 451. He wrote the rough draft of the book in a library, renting typewriters for a dime per half hour. He spent nine days furiously typing and the total cost of renting the typewriters was $9.80. One of his comments is that he wrote his books in huge bursts of passion, reacting to whatever was important in his life at the time. Obviously as a writer, he had a love of books, and he saw TV as possibly posing a threat to books, or at least some major competition in the future. It's scary just how close his vision has matched up with reality in the 60 years since his writing the rough draft.

Prophetic Themes in Fahrenheit 451

A. The Existence of a Media-Driven Culture

In Fahrenheit, the popular culture and the "average" household revolves around non-stop entertainment. Homes are centered on their super-advanced televisions, which are no longer single screens. Those who can afford them have three or four screen models, ideally covering each wall in an entire room. But they're pricey, at $2,000 apiece. Furthermore, the broadcast programs have been cut down significantly in time. An entire series can be viewed in an exhilarating ten minutes.

The main character, Guy Montag, has provided well for his wife, and she has a three wall set-up. She paid extra so that the announcers and actors address her by name. The extra money paid for a device that even makes the announcer's lips mouth her name. She is completely sucked into this world of entertainment, and is begging her husband to add a fourth screen as soon as possible. Even though the cost of the screen is a huge portion of Guy's salary, she insists on how important this purchase would be.

When she finally goes to their bedroom, where they have their own beds, Guy's wife pops in her microscopic ear piece and lets the news and radio drift her of into a sleep that is often drug-induced. Even when her husband is not feeling good, she refuses to turn off the screens, or even turn the volume down. She refers to the announcers as her "relatives." When she socializes with friends, the entire focus is on programs being broadcast on air or which will soon be broadcast.

B. Books: Banished from Society, by Society

Guy Montag is a fireman. But in the future envisioned by Bradbury, firemen don't put fires out; they start them. Guy works at the fire house only in the evenings, and inevitably this is the only time they ever receive any alerts. Alerts are placed when anyone suspects that their friend or neighbor has been harboring books. The firemen wheel up to the house, douse the books in kerosine, and set them on fire. The fires always draw a crowd; it's a good show. Furthermore, the burning of books didn't happen by a government mandate. People in the culture started destroying them on their own, and this only later was codified into law.

C. The Disappearance of Leisure and Reflection

Throughout the course of the book, Guy meets a young girl who begins to talk to him about things nobody else has talked about for years. The weather, nature, how fast the world is. She mentions that billboards on the highway used to be only a few feet long, but since people drive so fast, they had to make billboards 200 feet long, otherwise nobody would be able to read them. She notes that most people think that grass looks like a green blur which they see outside of their window. Everything in the popular culture is driven by fast-paced sensual satisfaction.

This girl, Clarisse, says her family sits around and talks. They used to talk on porches but houses no longer have porches, so they sit inside and talk. She leads Guy to begin thinking about things differently. He gets curious about why fires are started and not put out any more. Eventually the temptation gets to him, and he wants to find out what all the fuss is about these books. Perhaps even more curiously, he wants to know why he never talks to anybody. He never thinks about anything. He just reacts, and as far as he can tell, everyone around him has given up thinking. They just do whatever their televisions say. Entertainment abounds, but nobody really relaxes anymore. Nobody really has fun, there is no actual happiness, despite all the methods of entertainment that seem to fill everyone's day.

D. A Way Out

In due time, Guy is of course caught and an alarm set out against him. I won't spoil the entire book, but this is the essence of the book: Guy finds someone who still remembers the olden times of literary discussion, argument, and in general, the liberal arts tradition. They represent a minority, and even still speak of things like the Bible. But they maintain the connection to the past by never forgetting the great books of the world. They won't win the world over by sheer numbers, but they are confident that, eventually, people will want to know what they've been trying so hard to forget. And when the time is right, they'll be ready with the answers. The answers will be Shakespeare, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Voltaire, Plato, Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius, Kant, Schweitzer, Milton, Poe, etc.

What Bradbury Got Right

Bradbury saw a future where people would no longer think for themselves. They were bombarded with images and sounds, colors, music, words. From their morning rise to their last moments of consciousness each night, they are "plugged in."

He hit on such a prophetic streak with this book! Look around at our world today. TVs may only be single screens, but the other screens are already in the room: cell phone screens, computer screens, tablets, and who knows what else coming down the pipe. Just like the futuristic world Bradbury envisioned, books seem to be vanishing from society. Even more quickly disappearing is real discussion about ideas. People spend abnormal amounts of time discussing the latest gossip, sports, and other forms of diversion and entertainment. But how often do we have discussions (or even real arguments!) about things that matter. Things like justice, faith, peace, freedom, joy, beauty, God, goodness, art, etc.

Surely in this scary vision of the future, Bradbury was right. We're looking more and more like that frightening world every day. And there don't seem to be a lot of signs that we're slowing down or changing directions any time soon.

However, just as he saw the problem correctly, I believe he sees the solution correctly. The way out is for those who have the time, for those who have the energy, to do something. We need to tell people about books. We need to show how important ideas are. We need to bring up books in discussions with people, and remind them about their existence. A great way to do this is to just start reading!

One of Fahrenheit's characters comments that what's so great about books, as opposed to tv, is that if you disagree with a book's main point, you can put it down. You can argue with it. You can write a book to counter it. TV shows and movies don't really give us the same chance. They keep on rolling along, producing more episodes, more shows, more movies, more of the same. And reasoning or arguing with it? Doesn't work very well. It's almost impossible to convince, for example, the average teenage girl that a show like Pretty Little Liars is dangerous to her. But with books, you get that chance.

Personally, I've long desired to embark upon a reading of the Great Books of the Western World. Considering some of the work I do now and some preparation I'm currently working on for an adult catechesis program aimed at helping parents conquer the big dragon that is the modern media, and after re-reading this prophetic vision of the world we're living in now, I am more than ever inspired to pursue that goal. True, I may have a full-time job, a one year-old baby and a new addition expected in January. I am also working on a masters degree in my "spare" time which will soon require me to learn Greek without the benefit of a classroom in which to do so or a teacher to guide me. Even still, I am making a commitment today, to save the money for a new book shelf and a set of the Great Books. I have to do what little I can to stem the tide, and to be there with some of the "answers" for others in the coming generations, first and foremost for my own children.

Pax,

Luke

The Avengers Have Nothing on Jesus Christ

I am a comic book geek. I might not be as geeky say as guys/girls who blog about comic books (I thought about doing that by the way, it would be called Catholic Comicie, no?), but I'm still pretty geeky. I was very much looking forward to watching the film version of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, the Avengers. Marvel had hyped this film up over years of prequels that were created prior to the film itself, a brilliant advertising move. Get'em hooked and then create a super-team. Anyway, Joss Whedon, the idol of many comic fanboys, directed the film so it promised to be done well, achieving where other comic book films fell, mainly in being worth watching. 

Anyway, so when it came out I was on my retreat in preparation for Holy Orders, and although I am a geek, I am also a follower of Christ Jesus. Jesus came before Tony Stark, Thor, and Samuel L. Jackson's eyepatch. In case you were wondering, I had a great retreat the Lord worked a lot in my heart and thought the great wisdom of Archbishop Alfred Hughes better prepared me for the sacrament I will soon receive. Much of the retreat got me naturally thinking about Jesus, His person and His redemptive act.

Today, I finally got to see the movie, in 3D even. It was very enjoyable and exactly what I imagined it would be. There was a great plot line and fantastic actions scenes. The interaction between the characters was classic Marvel, Stan Lee style with 21st century language.

About half way through the movie, you realize that the Avengers have to save the world from Loki and his army, which is many movies and comic book plots. What was different though was my reaction. I began to reflect, in an action movie that doesn't evoke reflection (it wasn't directed by Christopher Nolan). The plot is set for the Avengers to be the only hope for the world. Well, I realized, we've already been saved, once and for all, but the death and Resurrection of the Son of God who became man for our sake, Jesus Christ.

After the movie, I began to reflect on that passage from Hebrews that talks about the once for all sacrifice of Christ. It starts by talking about the priests in the temple. They offer sacrifice daily and yearly for their own sins and for the sins of the people. Their sacrifice needs to be repeated whereas Christ's was once for all. It dawned on me. We treat superheroes like priests. They are there to save us, but their offering needs to be repeated (in trilogy form). They will never fight a fight to end all fights and defeat the archnemesis of all, namely death and sin.

Our desire for heroes is rooted in our desire for saving, which has been fulfilled offered in the eternal salvation offered by Jesus Christ.

Left Hungry

Everybody has an opinion on the Hunger Games series, which is quite appropriate since the series seems to have little opinion of itself. Just as people are always quick to praise the exulted quiet man, be he hero or villian, the great mass of readers (yes, there are still enough of us to compose a 'great mass') will say as much as they can about the popular book that has little to say on its own. There was that author that commented he had stopped reading his fan mail and book reviews because he was tired of people telling him what he had said. He explained that he never meant to say half the things they said he said. Suzanne Collins might voice a similar complaint, but the irony is that, even if she doesn't deserve all the attention she is getting, she does deserve all of the comments. That is because the Hunger Games begins and ends on an empty stomach. Should the fans be blamed if they are forced to stuff their mouths with commentary (if not, like the characters of the book, with food) because not enough was served them by the author?


The test by which any science fiction or fantasy must be judged is how realistically it portrays humanity. Tolkien was fond of pointing out that the suspension of disbelief should not be shyed away from, but embraced but it is embraced on certain terms. I can believe in human beings being tempted by an all-powerful ring because I have seen human's tempted. The fact that I will never (God willing) come across an all powerful ring is a minor detail in comparison to the fact that I will (devil willing) come across powerful temptation. I can believe in an evil galactic Empire that existed a long time ago in a galaxy far far way because I have studied evil european Empires that existed a short time ago. It is the humanity of science fiction and fantasy that must ring true precisely because we do not rely upon the believability of the technology or the magic. Nevertheless, this technology and magic must be consistent with human nature. I accept the idea of an 'Eldar Wand' or a 'Death Star' because I know humans are always trying to build more awful and more deadly weapons. However, I also know that these weapons rarely work to benefit those who build them. The reason why the stories that contain these menaces are received with such relish is because, deep down inside, we all know that those who live by the sword will perish by the sword.


It is the lack of this lesson, or the confusion with which it is presented, that makes the Hunger Games less than satisfying. The story has a lot of potential. It begins with a simple and powerful conflict: a progressing post-Apocolyptic society, an evil Capitol, hungry slaves, illegal black-market deals, a young warrior, and an oppressive gladiator style competition (and thats just the first 50 pages). However, written in typical 'page-turning' fashion, the reader is given little chance to dwell on these facts. The bad guys get things going too fast, and the narrator is too worried about mere survival, for full rumination on the subject of human dignity, the greater good or the nature of self sacrifice. In a world where injustice draws names out of a hat and the good guys shoot first and do not even ask questions later, virtue and vice become matters of reflex, not matters of choice. Good and evil seem to be little more than instinctual. Life is a game. The driving force is hunger. If there is any greater depth to life in Panem, Katniss Everdeen never discovers it.


There are many powerful points in the plot, too many to mention because the author overloads the story with them. If the reader comprehends their significance, its only because she has taken the time to dismiss the urge to flip the page. That is to say, she has chosen to make a choice that none of the characters make: the choice to reflect in order to grow. As long as the action keeps coming, this is no problem to the stream-of-conscious plot (though it should present problems to the conscience). But when the series draws to its conclusion, and Plutarch Heavensbee smugly suggests that victory over the Capitol may or may not change anything after all, the honest reader wants to throw the book across the room. Or when the love triangle resolves itself because one of the guy's philosophy on total war shoots him in the foot. Or when Katniss ends up as a recovering morphine addict thanks to her 17 visits to the hospital over the course of 18 months. Without giving too much more away, I think that these examples suffice to show how the ending is less than thrilling. The fact that the first book showed so much potential only makes it worse. Here was a popular teen phenomenon that addressed such relevant points as solidarity, first-world vs third-world poverty, human rights, and a bitting critique of the media's role in undermining human value. Even the love triangle was intriguing: ever-faithful Peeta vs. edgy, sexy Gale. There is so much here that could have challenged us. Instead, it merely charged us up for a less-than-satisfying conclusion. 


I really wanted to like these books. I really wanted to tell you to read them and like them too. Instead, I find myself warning you: if you do read them, don't get your hopes up. Katniss Everdeen may be a girl on fire, but she is no phoenix. When the blaze of the games is over, she does not rise from the ashes. Redemption and resurrection have little place in this novel. It is never Easter season in Panem: yet one more reason to be glad that the place is fictional.

Saturday Thoughts - St. Patrick, pray for us

Back in the summer of 2001, I had the great gift to be a part of a program initiated by President Dwight D. Eisenhower, the People to People Program. Its goal was and is to build relationships with countries by send young people from the United States as student ambassadors to witness to the country visited the desire to maintain relations with that country. From the student ambassador perspective it was to learn about and interact with people from another country in their country and so grow in an understanding about the universality of human relationships.

People to People gave me the opportunity to go back to the cultural roots of the United States. We travelled to England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. We saw some beautiful sights. We met some great people. We lived in homes with regular English and Irish families. We grew as a community of teenagers.

I speak of this because I got to see, talk with, and learn about Ireland. Those who look at me would think that there might be Irish in me. My mother's father is of Irish descent from a family originating in County Down in the north of Ireland. You can tell from the way that family drinks despite being raised Southern Baptist. Spending time there in the country of my ancestors was almost surreal, even at 16. I spent two days living with an Irish family living forty miles outside of Dublin. The brogue of the mother of the family was so thick I had to get her children to translate. The crown of the trip though was visiting Glendalough Abbey.

photo by Eve Andersson

Founded by St. Kevin in the mid-sixth century. This was a place of prayer and asceticism for seven centuries before it was partially destroyed by a British invasion in 1398. It was my first encounter with a monastery and indeed it was in a sad state. An old simple church stood along with a large cemetery famous for its Celtic crosses. I remember being overly attached to a rosary I bought there that had clovers on each bead and a Celtic crucifix at its beginning.

Unfortunately, this monastery, at least for me, has become the image of the Church in Ireland. One can see the greatness that used to be there but what remains is mostly ruins and a few faithful standing strong with their bishops and priests.

The decline happened before then. In fact, Ireland is finally experiencing what Europe experienced a little over two hundred years ago. Once faithful group have turned to other things, in my opinion wealth. This opinion is based on my amateur study of history, but do not leave me just yet.

The Irish had a faith that withstood unbelievable persecution of the British since the time of Henry VIII. They dealt with oppression, violence, attempted genocide, and still trusted in the Lord Almighty, because he was their rock and their strength. Their witness to faith aided in the quick growth of the faith and its practices here in the US one hundred and sixty years, or so, ago. They brought with them the only three things they had, love of family, love of country, and love of God and His Church.

Some, tired of the oppression to the point of no return, fought violently for 500 years against the British government. You can find riddled throughout Ireland's history during that time small and large revolts. Then, southern Ireland gained independence in 1921 through the Anglo-Irish Treaty. Then, men and women continued to fight some to the point of idolizing freedom.

Then the Celtic Tiger occurred. From 1995 to 2007, Ireland moved from the one of the poorest nations in Europe to being one of the wealthiest nations in Europe. They experienced uncontrollable economic growth after centuries of poverty and near starvation. Only the most virtuous of the poor cannot dream and be attached to money that they do not have. When the poor become rich and quickly, money can cloud their prudence and displaced their faith.

On the heals of the economic downturn, that brought Ireland away from this prosperity was the extraordinary amounts of priest abuse reports that had, like many diocese in the US, been covered up. What faith still remained in those who had come into prosperity was lost. Their faith weakened by the Tiger experience, unbeknown to them.

Now, today is St. Patrick's Day. This holy man was the apostle to Ireland. He brought droves of Irish into the sacraments. He said in his Confession,

I came to the Irish peoples to preach the Gospel and endure the taunts of unbelievers, putting up with reproaches about my earthly pilgrimage, suffering many persecutions, even bondage, and losing my birthright of freedom for the benefit of others. If I am worthy, I am ready also to give up my life, without hesitation and most willingly, for his name. I want to spend myself in that country, even in death, if the Lord should grant me this favour.

Even in death, does he want to give his life for the sanctification of this country. Let us implore him today to fulfill the desire and that promise made. We in the United States are indebted to the Irish through their descendants working to give some respect to the Catholic Church in this country, even if it is now lost again for different reasons. We are also indebted to the many sons of Ireland who came here as missionaries to serve in Catholic dioceses as priests.

Now, more than ever, is the time for the great conversion of Ireland, for us to call upon the powers of heaven to strip from the hearts of the Irish people the attachments to greed and pride and accept again, in fullness the faith of Jesus Christ.

St. Patrick, pray for us.

The Evangelization of Masculinity and Femininity through Music

I began writing this post on the evening of February 2nd before going to a basketball game. That basketball game had great effect on my life. See this post, this one, this one, and this one for details, if you haven't been following along. Anyway, I finally want to try and finish the post because the insight I feel is very important.

I had the opportunity last night (last month now, but for my own emotional posterity, I will let the misinformation stand, I apologize for being overly attached) to go to my first Matt Maher concert, yes, first. I have been present when he has led worship and led music for the liturgy, but as for a concert this was a first. It was a great blessing. It took on a different form from the usual concert feeling. The opening act, Audrey Assad, played in the middle of Matt's set. A bit different indeed but it brought out something for me that was really poignant that evening.

Through Audrey's music and Matt's music came forth the natural complementarity of sexes. Matt and Audrey are obviously very good friends who have a relationship that spans way past music and is rooted in the heart of Jesus Christ. They've played music together for many years, and that chemistry is immediately apparent to those participating in their live show. Matt was a certain influence in Audrey's conversion to the Catholic faith. The added depth of his spiritual fatherhood, in a sense, deepens their relationship on stage. Friend and father. Male and female. (It must be stated for the one who misunderstands my words. I am in no way saying are they intimate than in a manner of friendship. Be patient and I hope to show how their communication of the beautiful truths of the human person set them apart from most other professional musicians and songwriters. P.S. Their both happily married. Matt is already exhibiting the fruit of the oneness with his wife through their beautiful baby boy.)

Matt's music is very forthright. It's out there, driving. His latest album, even more so than previous albums manifests his masculinity. The melodies are deeper, the rhythms are heavier and stronger, the messages are kerygmatic. He is out there, moving forward, pushing forward. In a sense, they imitate that natural inclination of the male to give himself fully to suffer everything for the sake of self-gift.

Audrey's music on the other hand is very introspective. It speaks much about her relationship with her Redeemer. It is very receptive, light, melismatic. It's very feminine. She uses keyboard settings that are more etherial setting a mood of receptivity.

At certain songs they came together, and witnessed through music the beauty and wholeness of marriage. Masculinity and femininity were brought together to shine forth new creation.

The witness of such beautiful and awesome, indeed truthful, self-understanding from this man and this woman will have great effect on their audiences. This is how I can be a man. This is how I can be a woman, and feel and be whole. All is centered on Christ, the Savior, the True Man, who takes away that which prevents wholeness, completeness, joy.

Matt and Audrey, if you read this. Thank you for your witness of what is to be a man and what it is to be a woman.

Of Saints and Sinners

At times, the tension of the Saints 2009 'super' season was difficult to watch. Years of faith, hope and expectation culminated in an amazing dash for the Lombardi trophy. In our very own New Orleans Superdome, the sight of unprecedented destruction and disaster only 4 years before, the city watched as Sean Payton, Greg Williams, Jonathan Vilma, Tracy Porter and countless others did the impossible. We went to the Superbowl. We won the Superbowl. It all seemed too good to be true.

And it was.

In the last 24 hours, the NFL has revealed that their investigation of the New Orleans Saints has uncovered a history of corruption and cover-up on a Watergate/Spygate scale. While welcoming such football legends as Kurt Warner and Brett Farve into our stadium, coaches and players placed illegal bounties on their heads. The hard hits in those games, hits that virtually sidelined our most talented opponents, were fueled by more than just spirit: they were fueled by a cash flow. Greg Williams encouraged it. Sean Payton and Tom Benson knew about it, and did little to stop it. The crime was bad. The cover up was worse.

As difficult as it was to watch the Saints finally make it to victory, it is now even more difficult to watch this scandal unfold. Difficult in an entirely different way. Difficult in a way that makes it appropriate to discuss this in a spiritual way. The Saints, true to their namesakes, have become spiritual inspiration in this city. Payton, Benson and their comrades were made quasi-religious icons in this culturally Catholic city. We've attended Mass with them, seen them lead prayer breakfasts. We've waited in line for them to sign their books, but we've also watched them receive blessings from local ministers, Louisiana bishops and even the Pope. The NFL bestowed the Lombardi trophy upon them and, for our part, we bestowed something of a halo. They were heroes on the field and off: winning games, supporting charities and renewing our sense of hope and dignity. We had faith in them, faith in the full sense of that word. That faith is now reeling in doubt. What do we do with this? These men were hallmarks of integrity. They weren't just lucky: they were good. We've discovered that some of them were just lucky and bad. Now, their luck has run out. And we who believed in them, are struggling to make sense of it all.

Lent in New Orleans has never been that big of a sacrifice. The seafood is good. There are a lot of festivals to distract us. Yet we all know that there is much we need to do penance for. With a consistently high crime rate, perennial public scandals and a 'culture of violence' that our Catholic mayor and Archbishop have decried, this should be a time of soul searching. Apparently that culture of violence is not limited to the Ninth Ward: it has infected our beloved Superdome as well. Paying bounties to knock revivals off is bad enough among drug dealers. Among NFL players, it’s just shocking.

That's what we know thus far. So now, we pray. We fast. We repent. No, this isn't just Catholic guilt extrapolated into the sphere of sports. Payton and Benson received the same ashes on their foreheads that we did last Wednesday. And those ashes are not an empty symbol. Nor are they just an emotional expression. They are the remains of last years palm branches. They are what is left over after the biggest parade in the church's liturgy, when Christ rode into Jerusalem and was hailed as a king. We threw just such a parade for these men. Now, we must face the truth and wear the ashes. The difference, of course, is that Christ was innocent when, a week later, he was put on trial. These men may not be. Nonetheless, we must pray for mercy. Yes, pray. They are not just NFL leaders: they are our brothers in Christ. This is the season to love them more than we do during the football season. This is the season to change our ways, to become better and to look to a prize greater than the Lombardi trophy, that perishable crown. Don't get me wrong. I love football. I am a Saint's fan. I will remain a Saint's fan. But, first and foremost, I am a Christian watching my fellow Christians endure tribulation. And I will pray them through it.

Friday Thoughts - Is Fiction Lying?

I subscribe to Fuel Your Writing with the amateur and fantastic intention of one day becoming a writer. The bloggers there usually have great insights into many aspects of writing. They often times keep me going. 


A month ago, I received one of their encouraging emails only to be thoroughly discouraged. It was called And Then the Beckham's Paid Off Our Mortgage ... Please read that quickly before continuing or this post might not make sense. 


The writer, Christopher Johnson, is the editor for Fuel Your Writing and I have no doubt sincerely desires to communicate the best information to his constituency. Furthermore, I thoroughly respect Stephen King as a writer and a writer for writers, but I disagree wholeheartedly with his statement, "Fiction is truth inside a lie." 


This originates from the concepts that myths are lies. Tolkein and Lewis spent their lives combatting this literary heresy. Myths and with them, fiction, are not lies. Rather, they communicate truth through their stories. They communicate the truth of the human condition, of the sinfulness of man, of the desire for redemption not found. Fiction is the battleground of the human soul wherein men and women come to see the world in a different light through flights of adventure, romance (which, by the way I'm not a fan of romance novels, but they still communicate that which is true, lust), mystery, even science fiction. 


Take the story at hand, the Beckham's. This story communicates man's desire for unconditional love, a love which no matter the depth, can never be fully requited by man. The Beckham's, in the story, are an image of Christ's love for his Church. He's willing to give without expecting but a little repayment (our cooperation with His unconditional gift), a repayment certainly not to the degree of the gift. 


Instead of a lie, the Beckham story becomes an image of the reception of divine love and our reticence to receive because of our wanting to hold onto to our own will. Fiction is not lying. Fiction, at its very essence, communicates truth, namely Truth Himself. When fiction betrays that, it betrays itself and destroys the reader instead of lifting him/her up toward that which is greater. 

"When all is done, Judgment comes..."

Day of wrath! O day of mourning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning,
Heaven and earth in ashes burning!

I have a new favorite song: the Dies Irae. Day of wrath, day of mourning. Sounds really heavy, right? And Lent is still over two weeks away. Why not wait ‘til then to talk this up. Better to set that dreary mood after Mardi Gras. That was my initial thought. However, after jamming out to DC*B's version of this ancient hymn for a month, it has made me realize something that's bursting in my chest right now. This song about the dawn of Judgment Day illuminates a part of Christian theology that was once over emphasized and is now largely ignored, a part of our good news that for centuries was seen as nothing more than bad news. Our modern mentality looks upon the last Judgment with a skepticism that disguises a groping fear. Some of the hardcore movies of our time (Terminator, Armageddon, etc) are about preventing judgment day, about erasing it, rather than about finding the courage to face it down. But Judgment Day, in the Christian tradition, ends on a happy note.

Death is struck, and nature quaking,
all creation is awaking,
to its Judge an answer making.

David Crowder purposely wrote his version of the song in C (the happiest of all keys!). That doesn't mean that the song is all sunshine and sparkles and rainbows. It does mean, however, that the very last note we hear resolve the whole hymn is a ‘C.’ If you have a piano or guitar on hand, go ahead and strike a C for me…Very good! It’s quite a happy sound, isn’t it? In the context of a sequence of songs full of dissonant power chords, fiery prophets, peals of thunder and the death of the Son of God, this simple C rings out with profound beauty. The point that Crowder is trying to make after 18 minutes of reflecting on death and judgment is that there is something strikingly beautiful to look forward to. At the end of it all.

Think, good Jesus, my salvation
cost thy wondrous Incarnation;
leave me not to reprobation!

So there was the Holocaust. And there were the Gulags. Now there is apartheid and abortion, greed and global warming. So there will be political infighting, economic unrest, famines and fires, widows and wars, and yet it will not yet be the end (See Matt. 24:6). We know not the day nor the hour, though in our darkest hours we may hope it comes sooner rather than later. Though I do not consider myself a melancholy person, I cannot have an entirely optimistic outlook on the way the world is going. I've certainly never had the chance to be idealistic. My teenage years began with 9/11 and culminated in hurricane Katrina. Whether or not things are really getting any worse, I have no scientific reason to believe that anything short of the Reign of God could make them any better. Yes, scientific: because, as far my study of the sciences (physical, social, liberal) goes, it seems obvious that God would have to come down in order to truly reverse the effects of entropy. The crimes of racism and murder cry out from the ground not just to congress or the UN. They cry to the heavens asking for atonement. My faith brings me real comfort in the knowledge that, when the time comes to judge humanity for the killings of the poor and the Jews, it will be a poor Jewish carpenter sitting on the throne.

Faint and weary, thou hast sought me,
on the cross of suffering bought me.
shall such grace be vainly brought me?

Yet, this is not the only comfort I derive. He is, after all, a truly merciful judge, like us in all ways except sin. In all ways except sin. In all ways that are good, true and beautiful. In all ways except those ways that have led to our own destruction. To this Judge, who is truly God and also truly bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh (recall: He is our spouse as well), we cry out, "Huic ego parce, Deus!”

When all is done, Judgment comes. Spare, O God: have mercy.

As a closing note, I would like to point out how refreshing it is to hear the phrase "Have mercy" resound in praise and worship songs. Normally, the Protestant theology of the authors of this genre steers them away from publically proclaiming this petition. Because of the reasons listed above, I feel that it is oh so necessary to sing it now and always. With all the weariness of this world, my heart cries out for mercy, but it cries out in the key of C!

Pie Jesu Domine,

Dona nobis requiem. Amen.

Friday Thoughts - Human Culture Reveals God

Human culture is a form of the imitatio dei. - Raymond van Leeuwen

As you know, I like to delve into our culture and pull out that which God has retained in it that reveals Him. As I was reading for my class on Wisdom Literature, I came across this quote.

Wisdom literature, in much modern scholarship, is seen as extra-pious or beyond piety. It speaks of morals and other such ways of living. It rarely mentions the divine name, LORD. It is the most pagan, they say, part of the Bible. It takes most of its stuff from outside of the Hebrew culture.

van Leeuwen's point is that human culture, in general, reveals God. By its being human it reveals God. It can never not reveal God no matter how distorted and perverted it becomes. We can look at the Western Culture, the American culture in particular, and think we're doomed. We are going to down the road of Rome. We will sputter out into a void of disintegration.

I have mentioned before Belloc's Europe and the Faith. One of his main arguments was that Roman civilization didn't die. It rose to new life within the Church. As our civilization declines, the same opportunity can occur. In part, this happened in Russia after 1989. Much was turned back to Orthodox Church. The faith there flourished. Our steadfastness in faith will the witness to secular man. Where civilization seems to fall the Church rises from the rubble to show that we stand on the rock of Christ. Persevere dear Christian. Do not loose faith in God. Do not loose faith in humanity. The weeds have grown up with the wheat, and as history reveals, at certain times a purging fire passes through. Clearing that which cannot live on its own.

Look for and amplify that which is of God in our culture. Set aside that which is false and magnify the truth.

"I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!" Luke 12:49

O Great God Give Us Rest!

In order to understand what follows, it would be best to watch the video at the link below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=50DStEt4uwk

Ecumenism. In case you haven't been on iTunes in the last week, you might be surprised to hear that the David Crowder* Band has released their final album, a Requiem Mass (co-authored by our boy Matt Maher). That album jumped to the top of the charts (not the Christian charts, THE charts) the day it came out. It has remained in the top 5 ever since. David Crowder is a southern baptist, a representative of Baylor University and a well versed theologian, outside of being an evagelical worship leader. Two decades ago (not to mention two centuries ago), a man from the Calvinist tradition who wrote a Mass "centered on the beauty of the Eucharist" would be kicked out of his denomination, much as the Eucharist itself was physically kicked to the curb by the first protesting iconoclasts. Now, just as it is most decidedly NOT my intention to speculate on whether or not Mr. Crowder is moving toward Rome, I also have no intention of opening up old wounds. The atorocities of the 30 year's war, the scandal of Henry VIII and the happenings of the Huguenots belong to another age, when the West was all Christian and the differences between Catholics and Protestants resulted in some of the gravest sins in history. As both protestants and Pope have admited, there was guilt on both sides. However, when I read the history of that hideous period, what disturbs me the most is the sacrelige commited by fellow Christians against the Body of Christ. We burned each other, members of that Body, at the stake and poured the Sacred Host and Precious Wine out upon the pavement. The horror of our actions should silence any finger pointing, especially now that we are centuries out from the scandal.

Now, look where we are. Maybe it is the openess of our society. Maybe the providence of time has helped heal all wounds. Maybe it is the fact that we Christians have been forced to cooperate in a strange new era, no longer having the luxury to carry out our family fued across Christendom. What was Christendom, what was our family home, has become a secularist, consumeristic, materialistic, hedonistic parody of all we hold dear. Now, more than ever, Christians must turn to truth where ever it is found. David Crowder, definitely son of these times, has discovered that Truth can be found in the Eucharist. And he has not refrained from giving glory where glory is due. At the behest of Bl John Paul II, many Catholics have found ways to praise the Lord through song styles that our fathers would call too worldly or worthless. And we have not refrained from using them to give God the glory. Now, five centuries out from our great split, Catholics and Protestants are once more praising the Sacred Host together.

This fact does not represent the end of anything, except perhaps the end of the beginning, (to borrow a phrase from Churchill). Can we dare to look forward to a future where we will no longer debate about the Blessed Sacrament, but can commit ourselves to adoring it together? I certainly hope so. But I am ambitious and hope for more than that. I hope that we have come to a point where sacred silence before that Saving Victim can truly begin to heal our divisions. Singing is a great place to begin ecumenism, but the sacraments are the only place that it can end. I am barely a theologian. I am nothing close to a minister. However, I am a child of the Church, and I must say that, though I cannot pretend to know where all this is going, I am content to kneel at the altar with Mr. Crowder. Or Mr. Tony Blair. Or whatever other leaders decided to come around to the Eucharist. Our sad division began at the foot of the altar: let us hope that it's ending may begin there as well.

Friday Thoughts - Why Barnes and Noble Makes Me Sad

Unfortunately, there is much poor representation of the Catholic Church on shelves of people who like myself grew up with poor Catechesis. One such book might be The Pope's War by Matthew Fox. To boot, Barnes and Noble is selling the nook book version for $4. A cheap 'Catholic' book!


I know should expect this from such a corporation. I know I should expect this from secular media controllers. I know I should expect this from men who are angry at the Church and have an axe to grind. I still need to come out of the naïve mindset that if I treat someone with Christian love and desire to receive that back in turn, I will not necessarily receive it. Nope. That's not what's happening in this world.


I desire for people to know Truth and Matthew Fox comes 'revealing the truth' about the corruption of the papacy for
the last 25 years. To say there hasn't been corruption among successors of the apostles, among priests, deacons, religious, would be to lie. He doesn't target those who rightfully should be targeted for their sad representation of men and women called by God to serve the Church. No, he targets righteous men! Righteous men!


I feel in need of a psalm of lamentation.

Top Ten Books Read in 2011, #1

Finally, what everyone has been waiting for, the number 1 book read in 2011 is ...

Leisure The Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper

There are books. There are great books that you will always remember. And then, there are books that change the way you view the world. Josef Pieper's philosophic classic did that for me. You would have been a follower for this blog for over year to remember my postings on this book in late 2010 (there are too many to link). I finished the book in January of 2011, and it set the tone for my whole year.

Pieper's basic concept is that we misunderstand what leisure is. We think of leisure as vacation, time away from work, time doing things we want to do. Leisure isn't time. It isn't a suit. It's a way of living. It's a way of looking at the world. Simply put leisure is the reception of truth, good, and beauty. It is philosophic contemplation.
(Deacon Kyle your losing me)
I think I just lost myself. Sorry.
To be in leisure is not be bound by work and dominated by work, enslaved by work. Work is not what defines the human person (although his work is dignified). The human person, first and foremost, is created in the image and likeness of God. He is both body and soul. Leisure is reception of the divine in ordinary circumstances. It's celebrating at the beauty of a child running in joy at the return of her father from business trip. It's seeing and contemplating the revelation of the divine in the mundane activities of the day.

Work, if divinized, blinds one from seeing the divine in washing dishes or sitting smoking a pipe in the nice cool air on a fall day. Divinized work has one end, productivity. Productivity without the final end in mind, i.e. celebration in the full presence of the divine in heaven, destroys a proper understanding of the human person. He/she becomes a means to an end, when God says, love as I love, without condition, without the need for response, without ulterior motives, just cuz.

No matter your background. No matter your reading level. No matter how much you read. If you read any book in 2012, it should be this book. End of story. End of list. Can't wait to find out what good reads I will encounter this year.

Top Ten Books Read in 2011, #3

Kind and patient readers, I apologize the incompletion of this series. I intended to write three and two on Friday and number one on Saturday and an illness caught up with me.

Number 3 is ...

Tremendous Trifles by G.K. Chesterton

It's not often that I read a collection of essays. Being that this was my first year reading Chesterton (shame, Deacon Kyle, shame!), I figured I'd go with what had been recommended to me. This was recommended to me by one of our fellow writers on the blog (who has been overly busy to write). He told me he reads this over every year. Therefore, I had to read it. The essays were fantastic. Chesterton's wit shone through but more importantly, it provided me with a necessary outlook change. One can find the good, the true, and the beautiful in the ordinary circumstances of life, whether they be brown paper bags and white chalk, or travels to unknown towns, or taxi ride. Chesterton's intellect shines forth in his ability to see the underneath of the material happening. Things are much deeper than they seem.

Top Ten Books Read in 2011, #4

Number 4 is ...

unPlanned - Abby Johnson

This is the only book on the list that was actually published this year. It is very rare that I'm actually up to date on stuff like that, but this book travelled with me on the way to and from the March for Life. It provided great reflection on many things.

The pro-life issue needs to be humanized. Abby communicates to the reader two things in this regard: babies in the womb are humans and those who abort them are humans, neither should be dehumanized. Both are required respect, love, charity, and action for their freedom.

Abby showed that freedom from 'the other side' is possible. She is a witness to the providence of God. Her life shows that God desires for all to see the truth. We must pray that each man and woman involved in the 'industry' of abortion can be open in a small way to God breaking through in their lives.

Top Ten Books I Read in 2011, #9

Number 9 is... Europe and the Faith by Hillaire Belloc

I had written a post a few months back about the book. Belloc writes with the zeal of a revert and the intelligence of an Oxford scholar. He hits the nail on the head about the movement and flow of European history. His oft quoted line, "Europe is the faith, and the faith is Europe," is the premise of the book.

The reason it makes the list over other books is its revolutionary quality to me. European history had always been communicated to me within the intellectual context of the secular Enlightenment. To see the history of Europe through the eyes of the Church (not in a biased way but through historical evidence) was, well, eye opening.

His conclusion was so profound and has played out since his death. If we betray the church we betray Europe because historically Europe exists due to the Church. We have watched as Europe has forsaken the faith and in turn begun to destroy itself. It began with Luther and has slowly gone downhill since then.