Take a Hike

"Moses does not encounter the living God at the mall. He finds Him (or is found by Him) somewhere out in the deserts of Sinai, a long way from the comforts of Egypt... Where did the great prophet Elijah go to recover his strength? To the wild. As did John the Baptist, and his cousin, Jesus, Who is led by the Spirit into the wilderness."

- John Eldredge

I think our ancestors in the faith were natural hikers, minus the fleece caps, "sport-grip" water bottles, and Velcro bootstraps (I bet they would've loved Velcro though). They were simply in their element under a star-crowded sky. The smell of a wood fire, the rich, damp earth, the swell of the grapevine, the crush of grain between the fingertips, the smell of wool, thin air rocky climbs up craggy hills, sand and rock and the salt sea: all these were not extravagances for them. It was simply life. And everything became their teacher.

But when is the last time we walked on grass? Touched the cool bark of a tree, moved off of the beaten path, got our shoes muddy? We can move about an entire day from concrete to asphalt, linoleum to the plush carpets of our living rooms and never once touch the earth. In the words of one of my freshmen students, "What up wit 'dat?"

If the earth is a kind of sacrament (and it is), and every living thing both its own reality and a glimmer of a mystery in the Mind of God (and they are, from flowers to rivers, our bodies to the swirling galaxies) then this distance we create is a kind of blockade, isn't it? We are closing our hearts to the fruitfulness of that (lower case) sacramental life. God comes to greet us in the wild, in the desert, in the stillness of the morning and the dark blanket of the night, and we close the door in the middle of His "hello."

"Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone."

"Uh, but I'm not dressed for it. Actually, I'm kinda busy right now. I have... a meeting."

As Thoreau said, we need the tonic of wilderness. We need the desert desperately. We've grown soft like jelly and we've forgotten where we come from, and where we're going. We've settled into this world as the Hebrews did in Egypt, so that even when freedom calls, we prefer slavery. We need the same antidote to the poison of sin; detoxification, rehabilitation, the stripping away of superfluities. We need to take a hike.

Enter Lent...

OK, so we can't pack up and head to Sinai, or the Sahara, or the wilds of Northern Maine (dang it), but we can enter Lent. We can get up early and walk, pray, sit in the stillness as the morning pours liquid gold on the world and listen.... There is as much if not more of a wilderness in the hollow of our hearts that needs exploring, and we've crammed it full of busyness and noise and "responsibilities."

Lent is about finding our hearts again in that wilderness, and it's often only in the wilderness that we can find them. In the cold clear light, in the arid places, in the quiet stretch of the mind apart from the noise and haste of civilization. Lent is about being driven out of our comfortability, into the mud and briars and wild tangled vines and into the woods where the hermit thrush sings and mystery moves in shadow.

So let today be the first step into that desert... unplugged, stripped, silent, watchful. What mysteries will be revealed? What signs will we see? What superfluities will we let go of on this journey? And where will we find ourselves in 40 days?

No Greater Love: The True Story of Fr. John Wessel

“More and more, I realize that love is the only thing that truly matters in life – to love and to be kind to one another.”
– Karin M. Burke

My guest tonight was Karin Burke. Her book on the life and death of a New Jersey priest is an inspiring story of faithfulness and sacrifice. No Greater Love: The True Story of Fr. John Wessel is available through Xlibris.com.

"Father John P. Wessel was a priest well loved by parishioners of St. Joseph Church, Toms River, New Jersey. He had been serving the parish for only three months when his life was forcefully snatched from him by a gunshot from one distraught member of his flock – a young Vietnam War veteran whom, with priestly concern, he was attempting to assist. The shooting occurred on December 17, 1971. Gravely wounded, Father Wessel died nine days later on December 26, 1971. He was only 32 years old. Thirty-six years since the fatal shooting of Father Wessel, his memory is still very much alive among those whose lives he has touched."

You can read more by clicking here, or to order the book call 1.888.795.4274

New Year's Resolution #2 - No False Gods

Now if out of joy in their beauty they thought them gods, let them know how far more excellent is the Lord than these; for the original source of beauty fashioned them.
- Wisdom 13:3

We're moving through Exodus in my biblical studies class (yes, I like to move slowly through the beginning of the Bible, everything happens in Genesis and Exodus anyway. The rest of the Old Testament right up to Malachi is just a vicious circle... until Jesus breaks in!).

So... presently we're looking at the idolatrous practices of Egypt, and Israel's addiction to false gods too. After all, it was the very air they breathed for 400 years, and the moment they are out of Egypt and left alone for a few weeks, they go and build a Golden Calf (aka, a tribute to the Egyptian cult of Apis, which is basically an obsession over sex, power, and wealth for the ancients). Israel falls right back into Egypt!

I like to tell my students how refreshing it is, how ennobling, that we can all look back and laugh at those silly ancients, worshiping frogs and the Nile River and bulls and sheep and stuff. Ha! We've certainly learned from their mistakes, eh what? My how we've progressed! No false idols here, no sirree. No physical wrappings or trappings enshrining strength or virility, control, power or sex for us moderns. As the old Virginia Slims ad used to say, "You've come a long way baby!"

Right...

I'm not gonna lie to you. I have my addictions, my own list of idols. I love my Mac, my ipod. I look at my cell phone about 124 times a day. That's why they call it a "crack"berry. I wonder if I could go a day without the internet, how 'bout a week? Yes yes, I know, it's a part of life now. My work is IN the internet. It's a tool, a platform for teaching, for information, etc. etc.

All true.

I'm not saying the iPhone, the internet, Blackberries, Blueberries, ipods, whatever are BAD. Don't you know me? And guess what... for ancient Egypt, Assyria, Babylon and yes, our dear Israel, the stuff they slipped into wasn't bad in and off itself either: the beauty of the stars, the paragon of animals, their strength and virility, their power and cunning, the life-giving waters of the Nile; these really did bring them life after all.... and yet.

"... If they were struck by their might and energy, let them from these things realize how much more powerful is he who made them. For from the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen." - Wisdom 13:4-5

How easily I slip into excess. From moderation to undulation, and from seeing the icon (a light-flooded sacrament of a thing), to twisting it into an idol. Into my precioussssss....

Sound dramatic? Well... if I end up spending more time looking at my techno-gadget than I do the person in front of me, or around me, than that ipod has become an igod! Is this a real kick in the pants for you? It is for me! I stink at fasting! LENT IS COMING!! I jokingly said to my students yesterday that I was giving up the internet for Lent...

"Impossible!" they cried in unison.

"It can't be done!" they shouted.

"Is this going to be on the test?"

Poor us, so addicted to electricity, gadgetry, ease and comfortability. It's been called "technolatry" - the new idolatry for the 21st century.

AND NOW THE SMACKDOWN...

St. John of the Cross once wrote "It comes to the same thing whether a bird be held by a slender cord or by a stout one; since, even if it be slender, the bird will be as well held as though it were stout. . . . And thus the soul that has attachment to anything, however much virtue it possess, will not attain to the liberty of divine union."

Ouch. Time for some soul searching and a little more letting go. I just have to turn to my wife Rebecca for inspiration. So grounded is she in the person before her, it astounds me. When I try to show off some new fireworks, bells and whistles I've found on the "Machine"... she just smiles and makes some tea.

New Year's Resolution #1

Well, we never made it to the Outback Steakhouse this past Wednesday. It was Dad's birthday and we left the choice up to him. He chose simplicity; a night at Casa Donaghy with catered food from Paul Revere's (the local pizza place that Rebecca and I do in fact "revere." Man those Greek fries!).

But alas, the other night we were determined to hit the hallowed halls of Aussie Steakdom ('cause that gift card is burning a hole in our collective wallet!). So there we were, all gussied up and proper: and the sheila (that's Aussie for colleen, which is Irish for young girl) that took our name said, in her finest non-Aussie accent "It's a 2 hour wait."

Yup. 2 hours...

Consisting of 60 minutes each, by the way, for a grand total of 120 minutes.

Now you may be thinking, dear reader, that anyone in their right mind would 86 the place for a reasonable alternative (to which I reply, "Have you not tasted the Outback Special?"). But several factors like tent pegs helped us stand our ground:

1. the fact that we were already out,
2. ready to eat,
3. holding a gift card to said establishment.
4. and the Olive Garden (other gift card, thanks Mom!) was about 30 minutes away with its own wait.

So we waited. Rebecca actually split for Target down the street to return something, so that killed time. I walked around outside, perused the Office Max, the back of the buildings where the dumpsters sat gloomily (hey, they come in lots of different shapes...who designs those things?), and I finally grabbed a stool at Baja Fresh for some $1.60 chips and salsa to tide me over. When I returned to the non-Aussie hostess and inquired about our progress, I got a little frown and a "One hour, 17 minutes."

"Is that it! Cool."

Does this sound ridiculous?

NO! Because it got me to thinking... globally...

Back in 1987-ish, a Polish family stayed with us at the Browns Mills domicile in NJ. The Sikorsgies had a beautiful little boy, not yet a year old, who needed open heart surgery. Browns Mills is home, not only to Alba's Pizza (oh man those Sicilian pies), but also to Deborah Heart and Lung Center, world-renowned for their expert cardio-care. So old Joe Frazier from the Holy Name at St. Ann's asked if we could set them up for a few weeks. It was more a blessing for us, as often is the case in serving others, than it was for the family from Poland. For we got to see our life through their eyes, and their life through their stories.

The fact of the matter is, most Americans live like kings and queens. We have so much more than we need, and compared to the rest of the planet, most of us are spoiled beyond comprehension. A two hour wait for food was half the wait for them back in the late 80's in Poland. They could wait up to 5 hours for their meat, or dairy, or meds. When we took them through our local Acme they staggered about like drunkards, like kids on Christmas morning. All of this food! All wrapped up for you, and COLD? And the cold air is just leaking out onto the floors as we walk by, and the refrigerators are packed and everything is so fresh. You can buy as much as you like? This was unheard of.

Move your hand over the spinning globe to Haiti, to the slums of Cite Soleil, to Africa, to the fear filled streets of Darfur, to any number of places where daily life is a real sacrifice and a physical, sweat and blood and bone, life and death struggle.

So we waited in the cozy strip mall of Springfield Township, and there were no guns, no pollution, no dictators, no death squads, no malaria. And the meal was wonderful, and the service was a gift, and there is soooo much more to be thankful for.

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION #1: No more complaining.

Francis

You were small once, Wrapped in medieval mists playful, magnetic of mind and heart, even then. Little Francis. You grew through joy and magnanimous heart, casting off riches for rich feasts for friends. And you laughed, at fate, at fear, at the fretting of the too too serious adults. Francis, Then you fell. Your happy world crumbled with the piercing glance of a beggar, poor and broken. Drawn by his magnetic mind and heart, into his deep pool of poverty. Francis, he captured you. And the nothingness of his poverty captivated you. The emptiness of air and water and wind filled your hungry heart. And the purse with holes was full. And the nakedness warmed you. And the derision and the mockery of the spoiled was like the praise and spoils of victory for you, little Francis. Then you again, magnetic of mind and heart, as you always were by nature, were by grace perfected.... And you drew others into deep pools of poverty. And still we are drawn, because of you little Francis. Whose eyes looked into the piercing glance of a Beggar, Poor and Broken, Who cast riches aside, of Divinity and Power, of stars and worlds unseen, and stripped, descended, dwelt among us, a Poor Little God on a bed of straw. Drawn by His magnetic mind and heart, we too feel drawn to see... Riches in His poverty.

Modern Day Martyrs

This from Zenit News:
-------------------

Priest and 3 Deacons Slain in Mosul

MOSUL, Iraq, JUNE 3, 2007 (Zenit.org).- A Chaldean priest and three deacons were shot and killed after Sunday Mass in front of the Church of the Holy Spirit in Mosul.

AsiaNews.it identified the priest as Father Ragheed Ganni, 34, the pastor of Holy Spirit, located in the Nur district of the northern Iraqi city.

Sources told AsiaNews that the bodies lay abandoned on the street today because no one dared to go and recover them, given the tension of the situation.

The news agency reported that attempts on Father Ragheed's life have been made before, and that the Church of the Holy Spirit had been attacked and bombed in previous years, and again a few months ago.

www.zenit.org

ZE07060314


Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld

Extremists Threaten Church in Baghdad

This from the Church in the Middle East, reported on www.zenit.org

BAGHDAD, Iraq, APRIL 19, 2007 (Zenit.org).- Christian churches in Baghdad have been forced to remove crosses as threats from Islamic extremists cause pressure to mount. Wednesday was the bloodiest day in Baghdad since the start of U.S. security operations. Nearly 200 people were killed in a string of attacks in Iraq's capital. Meanwhile AsiaNews reported new threats to Christians. The churches in the Dora region, a Christian quarter of Baghdad, have received threats from an unknown Islamic group, which warned: "Get rid of the cross or we will burn your churches." Chaldean Auxiliary Bishop Shlemon Warduni of Baghdad told AsiaNews: "In the last two months many churches have been forced to remove the crosses from their domes. "In the case of the Church of St. George, in Assira, Muslim extremists took the situation into their own hands: They climbed onto the roof and ripped down the cross." Bishop Warduni added that "in the Chaldean Church of St. John, in Dora, which has been without a pastor for months, the parishioners themselves decided to move the cross to a safer place following repeated threats." The Church of Sts. Peter and Paul has received the same threats but so far has withstood the intimidation. Ultimatum AsiaNews reported that the same unknown Islamic group active in Dora seems to have delivered an ultimatum to the Christian community there: Convert to Islam or die. - www.zenit.org

------------------------- God bless the lovers of Christ in this region and may He give them the courage they need to be faithful to that cross. Crucified Love is the only way to truly win hearts. Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you. May this crucified love melt the cold hearts of their aggressors!

HERO

A powerful post from Amy Welborn's blog and the Jerusalem Post....

Professor Liviu Librescu was 76 years old, a Holocaust survivor and a professor of engineer mechanics at Virgnia Tech. The Jerusalem Post reports:

As Jews worldwide honored on Monday the memory of those who were murdered in the Holocaust, a 75-year-old survivor sacrificed his life to save his students in Monday's shooting at Virginia Tech College that left 32 dead and over two dozen wounded. Professor Liviu Librescu, 76, threw himself in front of the shooter, who had attempted to enter his classroom. The Israeli mechanics and engineering lecturer was shot to death, "but all the students lived - because of him," Virginia Tech student Asael Arad - also an Israeli - told Army Radio. Several of Librescu's other students sent e-mails to his wife, Marlena, telling of how he blocked the gunman's way and saved their lives, said the son, Joe. "My father blocked the doorway with his body and asked the students to flee," Joe Librescu said in a telephone interview from his home outside of Tel Aviv. "Students started opening windows and jumping out." At least three professors were among the victims. This morning on CNN, I saw one young man relate how he and a classmate pushed a table against a classroom door, barring the gunnman who was trying to enter and firing shots through the door. The reporter asked him, "How does it feel to know that some people are calling you a hero." The young man, who had been speaking calmly up to that point, bowed his head, choking back emotion. "I'm just glad I was able to be there," he murmured.

Who's the Man?

A few years ago, a movie called "Walking Tall" opened, starring the Hollywood muscle man known affectionately as "The Rock." This remake of the 1973 bruiser was about a man roughed up by some thugs in his hometown, which by the way was a 'cesspool of corruption.' He decided to take the law into his own hands, literally and figuratively: it was a huge piece of wood to be exact.

I saw a billboard for this movie while waiting for a train. There he was, "The Rock" looking righteous and rough, with the wooden beam resting ominously on his shoulder. Now is this the man? Muscle-bound, merciless with his enemies, trading an eye for an eye, and a punch for a kick? Is this what we're encouraged to become when times get tough, when the other team scores, when someone steals your parking space?

Coincidentally, the day I saw the poster of The Rock and his trusty wooden weapon, previews for "The Passion of the Christ" were out; it was set to release at the same time as "Walking Tall." Here I saw a vision of another Man, looking ridiculed and beaten, with a wooden beam resting ominously on his shoulder. He had entered into a town that could also be called a 'cesspool of corruption.' He too decided to take the law into his own hands, literally and figuratively. The law said death was the penalty for sin, but instead of dishing it out, he took death onto Himself. With the weapon of the Cross, he faced down the Devil and beat death at its own game.

This Man, who had every right to deal out justice to the nations (since He was and is the Just One), instead took the hits for us, laying down His life. What a paradox, what a total reversal of what we'd expect. Which way is the more manly way? Which path is the more difficult one? Which man was more effective in his mission against injustice?

Isn't it ironic that the day the world was asked to choose their answer, these two visions of man were both physically present? On Pilate's left in that stone courtyard was Barabbas, a revolutionary, a fighter who had killed for his cause, and on Pilate's right was Jesus, a revolutionary who would be killed for His cause. "Bar abbas" is Hebrew for "the son of the father."

And which son did they choose? And which Son will you choose?

Pontius Pilate himself tried to show us the answer, as he pointed to the wounded and broken one to his right; "Behold the Man!"

Why This Friday is So GOOD

From an Ancient Homily...

"What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam's son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: 'My Lord be with you all.' And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise. ‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.

‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden. ‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image. 'See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one. `I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.

‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God. "The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages."

- author unknown

Leaving Egypt Forever

Let's have a show of hands...

Who likes reading/ discussing/ hearing about the war in Iraq every day? Suicide bombers? Sitting back with the paper and discovering that people are still being victimized and horribly victimizing others? Who would enjoy hearing another tale about the wealthy and powerful who are still trying to get wealthier and more powerful-er... at the expense of the poor?

Anyone care for more violence on television before 8pm? Who believes we need another show that glorifies lust in the place of love, promiscuity over devotion, and marital infidelity as opposed to a lasting faithfulness?

No? You're done with this scene? You've had enough? Me too....

If it feels like 400 years of slavery to you, slopping through the mud of the media with this fallen nature of ours and you'd like to break away from sin to a Promised Land and hear some good news for a change, then take courage and lift up your heads. Change is a'comin'. But it will take work, and these 40 days of Lent were just the beginning...

The Early Church Fathers (these guys were the Catholic All-Stars) always saw Egypt as a type or shadow of our slavery to sin... Moses was a type of Jesus, and as Moses led the People out of Egypt, so Jesus leads us out of our addiction to self and selfishness. Finally, we can enter into the holiness (a.k.a. wholeness) of God and our true destiny! Real freedom, hope, joy, justice! Woohoo! When we’ve made this solid turn towards Him - metanoia, a.k.a. conversion - and followed, then we can experience that sweet honeymoon the saints talked about. But we have to make the turn. We have to step out in faith. We've got to leave the slavery of Egypt.

If we're committed to this work of getting out of Egypt, then we'll need to buck up and make it past the honeymoon to where the real journey begins. We have to walk through the desert for an undetermined period of time with no clear knowledge of where we'll rest or what we'll eat. Now won't that be fun?

Ah, but this desert of Lent has been the key. This is our detox time, where the poison is worked out of our systems, and we sweat out sin in our own personal Gethsemanes. This is the gymnasium of the soul and of the body. Then just when we think we've hit the Wall and can go no further, we'll look back and see Egypt coming after us (and guess who Pharaoh is a type of, by the way?). It's at this point that we'll hear Jesus say the craziest thing in the world, the last thing we think anyone should say when the chariots and charioteers are barrelling down at us and there seems to be no escape route for us on the road to holiness.

"Stand still."

Stand still? No way... We feel the pursuit of sin. The ground is trembling. I can't do this. It’s the residual effect of our selfishness... called concupiscence. This is the whisper of the preciousss... and the Gollum in all of us doesn't want to let go.

"In great fright they cried out to the LORD. And they complained to Moses, "Were there no burial places in Egypt that you had to bring us out here to die in the desert? Why did you do this to us? Why did you bring us out of Egypt? Did we not tell you this in Egypt, when we said, 'Leave us alone. Let us serve the Egyptians'? Far better for us to be the slaves of the Egyptians than to die in the desert.""

Did you ever look back and think "Man, those Israelites were whiners!" But WE are their spiritual children! When the water gets choppy, and the winds blow, don't we often take our eyes off of the prize, like St. Peter in his walk on the water? We can chicken out too! But it's in this moment especially, when all the world seems to be falling apart, that we must look to Jesus.

"But Moses answered the people, "Fear not! Stand your ground, and you will see the victory the LORD will win for you today. These Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again. The LORD himself will fight for you; you have only to keep still."

Keep still.... This was the dying wish of Pope John Paul II for the Church. This was his last piece of spiritual advice to the world before he went home to the Father's House. He said "Ours is a time of continual movement which often leads to restlessness, with the risk of "doing for the sake of doing". We must resist this temptation by trying "to be" before trying "to do". (Novo)

Hmmm.... And his secret for our wholeness in the days to come? What to do when we finally get the courage to be still?

"To contemplate the face of Christ, and to contemplate it with Mary, is the “program” which I have set before the Church at the dawn of the third millennium, summoning her to put out into the deep on the sea of history with the enthusiasm of the new evangelization." (Ecclesia de Eucharistia)

Look at Him. Even as Pontius Pilate cries out this Good Friday "Ecce homo!" Then, especially then, in stillness let us "Behold the Man." Our leader and the perfecter of our faith. He can take us from death to life, through the waters of a Red Sea that pours from His sacred wounds. All for love, all for us... to free us from the captivity that has held us captive for so long! What will happen if we can do this? If we can look away from ourselves, our worries, our fears, and just look up, look and see and drink in the vision of Jesus?

"Ecce homo! Behold the Man!"

April Fool's Day

Today, Christ enters Jerusalem, the Holy City, riding on a donkey. He is greeted as royalty and palm branches are thrown down before him to honor his passing. But in five days time, he will be paraded as a fool before the courts of men. Such is the folly of the world. Its praise is conditional and short-lived. And even superstars are expendable when their life shakes us out of our comfort zone.

But such also is the folly of Jesus, who presses on against all reason and his disciple's warning cries. This Palm

Sunday is our April Fool's Day, for Jesus comes heedless of the threat of death, knowing full well that the religious leadership of his day despises him, cannot understand him, and feeling jealous of his fame is already plotting to kill him.

He rides on. Like a fool, he moves through the crowds, passing through their hollow hosannas, through the pale gleam of this spotlight. Towards the olive press that is Gethsemane, towards the crushing blows of the whip and the hammer that will literally carve from his body a Masterpiece of Love.

In the immortal words of the old song "Wise men say only fools rush in...." And that rush into danger and death can only be blamed on love, for he "can't help falling in love with you..."

This love of Jesus is a holy madness. His love leaps into the lion's den, into darkness. His love risks all, gives all to find all, to free all from bondage. The question for us is: Will we follow him all the way? Will our love share in this Love? Or will we back away into the shadows, afraid to appear the fool, mumbling to the crowds "I do not know the Man"?

Do You Want Dessert?

Silly question, I know. But this Lent, I made a rash decision: no snacks between meals, no desserts (except, of course, on special occasions, feasts, solemnities, and Sundays, which officially begin with the vigil on Saturday).

What?

I really like dessert. And dessert likes me. But let's get to the Heart of Things, because that's what this blog is all about.

In the realm of the spirit, which is of course intimately joined to the body, I think we can often fall into a "dessert spirituality." We want prayer to taste good. We want our time with God to be sweet, to cleanse the palate as it were, and to make our mood fresh, clean and clear.... "Ah yes, here's my list of wants and needs, Lord. And yes, whipped cream and a cherry on top would be great."

But most of the time, I think our Loving Father wants us to have a "meat and potatoes" spirituality. Solid stuff..... stick to your ribs kinda food. Better still, He calls us into a "desert spirituality" more than a "dessert spirituality." He longs for us to depend solely on Him, to step out on a journey into Him, to be fed by Him alone, and not to be weighed down by the baggage of excessive comfort. A mature Christian faith is called out of comfort and into the cross. Into the deep and into the mystery!

"It would be wrong to think that ordinary Christians can be content with a shallow prayer that is unable to fill their whole life. Especially in the face of the many trials to which today's world subjects faith, they would be not only mediocre Christians but 'Christians at risk'."

- Pope John Paul II

God leads us into the desert. If we listen, and we let Him take us there, we will see that this "diet" and this fast are for our own good. To make us strong, to be a real gymnasium for the soul. So are we tough enough? Are we ready for a hike into this wilderness? Remember that He has gone before us even here. We have our guide, we have the water of grace, and the markers on this trail are in the shapes of little crosses.

Saint Joseph and Fatherhood

I've heard it said that the crisis in the Church today, the crisis in vocations, and the crisis in the family, can all be traced back to a crisis in fatherhood; a cultural confusion regarding just what it means to be a man.

Interesting. Think of the failure of Adam in the beginning, to guard and protect Eve from the serpent. He chose silence rather than to cry out to God for help against the foe. He gave in and grasped at the forbidden fruit, rather than to suffer the bullet, to stand in the gap and offer his life for his bride. Men ever since find it easier to lust than to love, to take rather than receive the gift of the Bride. To cling to life rather than lay it down for others.

In the present state of affairs, in a society that thinks the only "sin" is intolerance and the greatest virtue is "niceness", the drive, the passion, and the initiation of the gift of self that is inscribed in the very soul of a man is looked down upon.

Our culture contracepts it. It robs men of their spiritual patrimony, and relegates the drive to a merely biological level. And so we say "boys will be boys" but they are not. Men are turned into animals. Lust is to stoop to the level of the beasts. Love, real love, is to rise to the heights of holiness. But this radical gift of self is seen as so... "radical." Nobody loves like that anymore, do they? It's so extreme. So selfless! What's in it for THEM? So women are tempted to settle, and with no damsels in distress, the knight's armor gathers dust, and rust, and men forget their higher call.

The confusion about the spiritual dimension of a man to become a gift for others has caused an identity crisis in the Church. It has, in a very real sense, emasculated the mission of the gospel. When we take away the masculinity of Jesus, the passion of this God-Man who turned over tables in His Father's House, cleansing it of compromise, then we are left with the Jesus who is nice. The anemic, soft-skinned nice guy who just luvs, luvs, luvs and never mentions the cross. But this is not the Christ in the gospels. The carpenter's son who alone had the gall to call the religious leaders of his day a "brood of vipers." The One Who laid down his life for us devils, just where the old Adam failed.

Today, we the bride still dialogue with that serpent. And we say to the Christs of today, those fathers in the line of apostolic authority, "Don't impose your beliefs on me!" And so some priests and bishops don't even open their mouths to challenge us. They stand silent in the garden of the world as we reach again and again for that forbidden fruit. I believe we must let fathers be fathers, and not sterilize the life-giving gift of the gospel. If we stop the fathers from giving up their lives for us, from giving us the whole gift of the gospel, then how will the new life of grace ever grow within us?

St. Joseph, pray for us! At a word you leapt out in faith, guarding and protecting the Woman and the Child within her womb. You loved Mary, putting her first, and before you knew the truth, you were willing to take the "shame" of her unmarried pregnancy onto yourself. Now you are in God; spinning and swirling in the heart of the Great Dance, and we need to learn your steps of self-giving. Pray for us, St. Joseph... pray for all fathers now. Make our lives fruitful again!

Sometimes "Stinky" is Good

Years ago, I spent some time working as a groundskeeper at a beautiful garden estate in New Hampshire. It was a lush little plot of earth set right on the rugged New England coast, a stone's throw from the sea. Every day I'd drive the 'ole Chevy "Eurosport" Wagon (aptly named the Eggplant) down the winding ocean road to the gardens, to a place that was crammed with life: dozens of hybrid roses, delicate iris, a greenhouse packed with bougainvillea, cacti, ferns and flowers. The sea air was rich and fertile, pouring over us and into us from the Atlantic. The music of the waves was always soft and near. The irony was that in the midst of all this life, I was going through a kind of death.

It was a kind of "dark night of the soul." A deep fog surrounded me then, and life seemed suddenly like a pathless void. So, finding no clear path, I took to the soil. I tossed hay and trimmed roses. We hauled dirt and cut grass, kept the greenhouse green, and the plants well watered. It turns out the simple rhythm of the work in that rose garden was just what I needed. Sometimes I can think too much.

On the way home one day, I found a little church, coincidentally named for St. Therese, the Little Flower. It was right off the ocean road, just minutes from work! So I'd pop in time and again and lay my troubled heart on the altar. "Where am I going? What do I do now?" Things never got any clearer, but there was at least this daily act of the will to "lay things at His feet." Sometimes I think that's all we can do; like little kids with shoelaces all knotted up from running around, we go to Daddy to fix it. Some knots take longer to work out than others.

I see now His timing was perfect. I spent a few months with my brother, which was priceless. We had a rundown little apartment we jokingly named the "Palace," right next door to Sander's Fish Market. Right upstairs was the coldest, meanest old lobsterman you ever laid eyes on. He had his traps all over the backyard, never said a word to us. We called him "Mr. Happy."

Walks at night along the river between Maine and New Hampshire, to a pub for a pint or just out for fresh air, were so good for the soul. And our conversations were bonding. I'm so grateful for those days when the younger brother became the older. Looking back, there were lessons all around me. I was amazed to learn about the practice of trimming the rose bushes at just such a precise angle to prevent mold, or the covering of them with thick burlap when a chill was due. Don't we need to do as much, trimming our desires, and knowing when to conceal and when to reveal our hearts in the midst of this often cold world?

My favorite lesson might seem the most ridiculous. In the early days of spring, we covered those scented rosy beauties with..... horse poop. Now that's a fun job. What a parable there is in this one. Here's a flower famous the world over for its scent, and I'm putting horse poop at its roots? The lesson - Sometimes the stinky stuff is just what we need to help us grow. This puts a new twist on the experience of having a crappy day! Maybe we should actually wish for it! Any gardener will tell you that dark, smelly compost is so often what generates the most fertile, nutrient-rich soil. And horse manure for a good gardener is like gold... nuggets.

The question then, as we continue the Lenten journey: what's crappy in your life? What's the poop with you? Maybe it can turn into something efficacious? It depends on how we respond to the soil in which we're planted...

Fearless and Finally Free

I just finished watching the movie Fearless (thanks for the recommendation, Tom B!). This was to be the renowned martial artist Jet Li's last film. And what a way to end...

I'm a sucker for a super-kick'em-up movie. Not one that glorifies violence, however, but one that confronts the reality of violence and deals with it in a way that shows discipline, courage, and self-sacrifice. Films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero, and House of Flying Daggers all portray characters who have learned great secrets, cosmic truths, and lessons about mercy and compassion through their discipline (be it Wu Dan or Wushu). The character Huo Yuanjia that Jet Li portrays learns these lessons well. So well that they lead him to a truly heroic end in the film, as he moves from an arrogant fighter who "will not be defeated" to a symbol of humble strength and endurance for all of China.

Huo learns his most valuable lesson after a self-inflicted exile leads him far from home. Ruined, broken and despairing after the death of his family, he is rescued by poor mountain villagers. An aging grandmother and a young, blind woman named Moon nurse him back to health. As his strength returns, however, so does his competitive and arrogant spirit. He is put to work in a rice field with two other men, and just as he begins to settle into the rhythm of planting the tiny green rice seedlings, he pushes himself past the other men as if it were a race. As Huo's back is bent and he scurries to plant more seedlings, he notices that the men have stopped in their tracks. They are standing upright with eyes closed, facing the bamboo forest as it is suddenly caught up in a gentle wind. He sees that the entire village in fact has suddenly stopped their work to drink in the soft movement of the wind in the trees. Ignorant of the grace of the moment, he shakes his head and buries it back in the "rice race." The next morning, it turns out, all of his seedlings had to be replanted. They were packed in so tightly that they would never have grown. "They need space to breathe, like people do," the young girl tells him. Later, we see Huo again.... this time a deep contentment in his face. The rhythm of the mountains and the discipline of the fields has taught him well. He stands upright and faces the forest, as a breeze catches the bamboo and moves them.

Priceless moments. We should drink them in, looking up from our "rat race" today to glimpse these higher motions, these cosmic seasons that hold the seeds of answers for us. Look up! Watch the skies. We know not when the Wind of the Holy Spirit will stir up something new.

Amazing Grace - A Review

We just saw the new film "Amazing Grace" and we loved it! Ioan Gruffudd does an excellent job playing the humble and passionate William Wilberforce, an 18th century man torn between his desire to give his life to God or to stay "in the world" and make it a better place. With the help of some dedicated friends, he soon discovers a man may do both. The main thrust of the film is his more than decade long battle with Parliament to end the slave trade in the British Empire.

One of my favorite lines came from the character John Newton, the former slave trader whose conversion led him to compose the famous song "Amazing Grace." Newton is played powerfully by an aging Albert Finney: "Although my memory's fading, I remember two things very clearly. I'm a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior."

This film was a refreshing return to good plot, solid acting, strong characters, real history, and the power of virtue to pull us out of vice. Stay for the full ending, and the playing of the bagpipes!

It's Time for the Spiritual Olympics!

(The sound of trumpets, booming drums...)

In a world locked in laziness, on a people weighed down by cookies and creme-filled donuts, a light of hope dawns. Yes, it's LENT, otherwise known as... the Spiritual Olympics!

That's right America! The 40 days of You-Know-What are glaring up at us from our crumb-covered, soda-stained desktop calendars. The opening ceremonies have already begun, we've been stamped (on the forehead) and now we have complete access to the Olympic stadium. Here are some suggestions on how to secure a * medal for yourself:

BRONZE IS STILL BEAUTIFUL
It's basic but bold. Try cutting some of those ties, those seemingly thin cords that might actually be holding you prisoner to yourself. Is it always ME first? Do I ALWAYS have to put in my opinion, seeming to listen to others but actually just waiting until they're done talking so I can talk?

SETTLE FOR SILVER
Try letting go of the preciousssss, the one thing you feel you're entitled to every day without thinking. Unplug it, turn it off, clear it away. (Is it TV? Constantly checking e-mail? A latest news fixation? Radio crowding out the silence?)

GO FOR THE GOLD
Now we're talking... If you want this Spiritual Olympiad to be a real life-changer, then step up to the plate for this one. In the midst of all of the activity of this season, the "stuff" we hope to work on, the extra prayers, stations of the cross, fasting, blah blah blah, this one shines above the rest. The secret to getting the GOLD? Do nothing. Stop. Surrender. Put your hands up in the air and let yourself become vulnerable before the Mystery of God. Be open and barren as a desert. This is the toughest event by far; the great emptying of self. The letting go, even of the idea of doing lots of good things. In the words of the late, great Pope John Paul II, "Ours is a time of continual movement which often leads to restlessness, with the risk of "doing for the sake of doing". We must resist this temptation by trying "to be" before trying "to do". " (Novo Millennio Ineunte, 15)

You may get the jitters for a time, but hang in there. The desert of Lent is detox for the soul. It's main purpose is to allow us to finally loosen our tightened fists and let Love in. “From the point of view of the Christian faith, man comes in the profoundest sense to himself not through what he does but through what he accepts. He must wait for the gift of love, and love can only be received as a gift... And one cannot become wholly man in any other way than by being loved, by letting oneself be loved..."
- Pope Benedict XVI

So there it is. The greatest challenge in this season is for us to be able to say to God, not "Look what I have done for You!" but to say with Mary "Be it done unto me according to your word."

Happy Lent!


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* DISCLAIMER: None of the dynamic Lenten Olympic events listed above would be possible without the sweet influx of grace. We can't do it alone, but God won't save us alone either. It's the Catholic combo of a grace-inspiring, person-perspiring, human-divine collaboration. Grace inflates, inundates, inspires and builds on our human nature. God takes our yes (and even our half-hearted maybe) and makes it something extraordinary.

Just Passin' Through - Ash Wednesday Meditation

It's not by coincidence that our ancestors in the faith were a Pilgrim People, wandering for 40 years through the Sinai Peninsula. Their journey through the desert, both literal and historical, is relevant to us today, as a parable that's allegorical.

All of life is a kind of purification; a breaking of the self that's meant to blossom into selflessness, a stripping away of all encumbrances. Life is meant to be a walk that turns into a run, the crossing over of a Red Sea of suffering and slavery to a new birth; it's a darkened and dangerous path that breaks open into fertile fields of supernatural milk and honey.

As the great sculptor Michelangelo once said, "beauty is the purgation of superfluities." The desert has a way of cleansing us of excess clutter. We must travel light or trudge behind! The nomadic life and the daily manna of the Children of Israel are all reminders for us not to settle down in this world. Even the Presence of God, the Tabernacle in the Wilderness, was always on the move, never stagnant. Today the very word we use to describe ourselves as members of a parish, "parishioners," retains that ancient meaning of movement and unsettledness: "paroikos" is the Greek word that translates as pilgrim and\or exile. We're strangers in a strange land, or at least we should feel so.

Enter the Evil One....

If the truth about our destiny is that we are meant to pass through this world on the way to the next, what would the devil's strategy be? To nail us down to earth, of course! Cut the strings to Heaven. To cloud the mind of any metaphor, musing, or memory of that Other World and get us down to the serious business of busyness here and now. Such was the advice given by Screwtape, C.S. Lewis' senior devil who trains his nephew in the art of tempting humans (read the book "Screwtape Letters" for some amazing insights into these murky waters).

"Prosperity knits a man to the world," says the demon, "He feels that he is ‘finding his place in it,’ while really it is finding its place in him. His increasing reputation, his widening circle of acquaintances, his sense of importance, the growing pressure of absorbing and agreeable work, build up in him a sense of being really at home on Earth, which is just what we want."


The Antidote

In short, the key in life is to "keep on keepin' on." Walk the walk! When the fiery serpents bit the People in the wilderness, it was because they stopped walking and started whining. If we are to remember our destiny, keep a clear head about us, and not settle too deeply into the soil of this world, we should keep our minds on things of heaven. We should look up! Look to those things that are above, as St. Paul says. The Devil hates that, hates every breeze that flows from heaven.

"Even if we contrive to keep them ignorant of explicit religion," Screwtape continues, "the incalculable winds of fantasy and music and poetry — the mere face of a girl, the song of a bird, or the sight of a horizon — are always blowing our whole structure away... The Enemy, having oddly destined these mere animals to life in His own eternal world, has guarded them pretty effectively from the danger of feeling at home anywhere else. That is why we must wish for long life to our patients; seventy years is not a day too much for the difficult task of unraveling their souls from heaven and building up a firm attachment to the Earth..."


Let's take fair warning from these words. Let's look up! Keep moving! Never settle only for earth when heaven is offered! Look up and see your redemption near at hand in every sweet sacrament and sign here below; in music, poetry, prayers and the people who point us up! But don't stop just yet. The journey of Lent is about reading the signs rightly, and nothing says "Home" but Heaven.

Apocalypto: A Review

"A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within."
- Will Durant

I recently saw Mel Gibson's new film, Apocalypto.

There's been plenty of talk about this film (actually, the talk has been mostly about Mel and his issues). I've read both sides; those who feel the Mayans got misrepresented as pure savages, and those historians who feel Mel actually went a little light on the brutality they were known for enacting on their victims. I can't argue those points, as I'm not an expert on Mayan culture. But I will talk about this incredible film, which I believe, despite intense and often gratuitous violence, every man, husband and father should go and see with his man, husband, and father friends... (please heed the USCCB's complete review of the film's graphic content. Click here for a full review)

Mel Gibson's intent seems to have been to create an action-adventure film rooted in an ancient culture about a man who is trying to get back to his pregnant bride and young son, against all odds. It's ultimately a capture, escape, chase and rescue film. What I found running through it, through the heart-pounding chase scenes and the heart-wrenching violence, was a story of intense love and sacrifice that I still can't stop thinking about.

Apocalypto was riveting from the start, and I instantly felt an affinity for the lead character, whose name is Jaguar Paw. There is a rawness in the film that puts you literally right in the midst of an ancient people; you feel it, breathe it, experience it, as only a good movie or story can let you experience it: the moist jungle, the song of birds, the Mayan dialect, the tools, the tribal humor, the ancient codes and customs, the killing of an animal not for sport but for life, the primal fear in the face of danger. I haven't felt so deeply engrossed in a film since, coincidentally, The Passion of the Christ.

There were moments when I, as a 21st century viewer, felt suspended above all centuries and could feel the throbbing pulse of humanity and our yearning for peace. During a gathering of Jaguar Paw's tribe, in the dance of firelight and storytelling, an elder tells their creation myth of the Man who felt sad and alone. The animals came to him and each in their turn gave him their eyes, their cunning, their strength so he would not be afraid. But wise old Owl saw this would not be enough. The Man would indeed grow strong and conquer fear, but Owl could see a hole in the Man's heart. This hole could not be filled by anything in the world.

It is in the end love that fills the lead character's heart; it is love that drives him on to incredible feats as he weaves his way through one challenge after another in the jungle. Love leads him back to his family. And what he finds in the end, after witnessing first hand the complete antithesis of love, the utter contempt for Man's life in the hands of the Mayans, is a "new beginning."

Despite the gore, and there was too much of it, there were glimmers of hope and light. A young girl left to lead all the little ones after her village is ravaged, who says "Don't worry. I will watch over them. They are mine now." An older mother led away captive prays fervently to a mysterious Ixchel, a moon goddess, to watch over the children (Our Lady of Guadalupe foreshadowed? She stands on the Moon and in front of the Sun). Jaguar Paw's father is an amazing man of courage as well, whose steady advice to his son is "Do not be afraid." In the end, the watery birth of Jaguar's little baby, and his wife's distant look to the visitors who enter their life seems to set the tone for that new beginning they long for, out of a culture of death and into a new life. Perhaps we living in our modern age, still dealing with the scourge of 4 million abortions a year, capital punishment, and the threat of more legalized euthanasia, can learn from this film to treasure, in the midst of such a violent culture, the beauty of life.


(For an article on Our Lady of Guadalupe, the culture of death in the ancient Americas and America today, click here. Content is graphic with disturbing images.)