Breaking Through the Darkness

I've taken to listening to a podcast by a Catholic biblical scholar named Michael Barber. He interviewed a convert (Steven Ray) and the subject of conversion came up a few times. It reminded me just how much I love conversion stories. A useful exercise from my CPE days was to ask: what's behind that?

For the sake of starting with a positive point, I'd say that a big reason I love conversion stories is the hope it gives me. In the daily life of any Christian, a painful martyrdom sounds easier than living a consistent, holy life. Praying every day, living a true Christian charity, and taking up one's cross in the littlest ways. We need to fight the good fight, run the race; it's easy to lose sight of the goal and focus on the fight itself, the race itself. Once we do that, we're toast. We'd be crushed under our own burdens. Hearing about a conversion story restores that hope--hope founded in the promise of salvation.

Not only do we have hope restored, but our thoughts are refocused on that hope. Salvation! Heaven! What we were truly made for! Our compasses need constant refocusing, especially when it comes to moral decisions. But focusing on our eternal destination doesn't just help with morality; it helps us bear the burden of suffering, gives us the "big picture" when we're drowning in the minutiae of life, and most importantly, it provides that little reminder that God loves us enough to fashion us an eternal destination.

On an emotional level, hearing a conversion story is very affirming. To be totally honest, part of the feeling is pride. "See, I'm right!" That's simple human nature. If the affirmation stops there, it's useless and our pride cancels out the grace sent our way. Any warm, fuzzy feeling of affirmation has to be founded in the truth. As a Catholic I believe the Church contains the fullness of truth--as founded & established by Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Lastly, don't forget the power of God. We have the Scriptures with us every day and we're very comfortable with the that our God kind and loving. That's very true, but our Lord is a God of words and deeds. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead! He fed 5,000 people! He spoke and the stormy sea subsided! Our Lord can work similar wonders in our soul!

O Patron, My Patron

Today is the feast of the glorious apostle, evangelist, sprinter (John 20:3-4), and theologian: St. John. Earlier today I planned to write a glowing post about the surpassing awesomeness of my patron. Alas, for this close to bedtime, some scattered thoughts will have to do.

I can't imagine what John's life was like after the resurrection of Jesus. John shared some intimate moments with Our Lord during His Passion: resting his head on Jesus' chest during the Last Supper, following Jesus up the road to Calvary, and then being given charge of Mary... from Jesus, as He was dying. How crushed John must've been to see Jesus die!

Maybe that's why John ran so quickly to the empty tomb. There must have been some glimmer of hope, hanging on for dear life... perhaps from John's learning? Schooling? Something about being raised on the third day... If John & Peter knew what backflips were, they would've been doing them all the way back to the upper room.

What a blessed life he had! Knowing Jesus personally and then taking care of Mary for the rest of her life. The conversations they must've had! Imagine going to their house for dinner and hearing their stories! ("You know, John, you should really write all this down...")

St. John, pray for us!

Just Like Breathing

Back in the seminary, a common homiletics technique was to start a homily with a story. Ever since my time in the seminary, I'm not incredibly fond of that technique. It can be effective if done well, but often I find it distracting and a waste of time.

One of the stories I heard in a homily was the story of a wise, holy man instructing a young man on the importance of prayer. They were walking by a river and the wise man motioned for the young man to kneel down next to the water. The old man suddenly takes the young man's head and forces him underwater. After a little time had gone by, the old man jerked the young man's head out of the water. Shocked and gasping for air, the young man looked angrily at the old man. "When you realize that prayer is as important as breathing, then you will learn how to pray."

I hated this story, and not just because I later saw it in a book by the heterodox Jesuit, Anthony DeMello. Isn't there a non-violent way to convince a person that prayer is vital? How about a way that doesn't involve drowning? Maybe it spoke to some people, but not to me. I couldn't help but envision myself as the young man, eager to learn from the wise man... and that if that happened to me, the lesson I'd come away with is not to ask old, wise men for help.

Still, the underlying principle (prayer is important) is a huge lesson. And, I begrudgingly admit, the lesson is one that everyone has to learn by some sort of experience. It doesn't really matter how much someone tells us the importance of prayer. For us to truly believe its value, we have to experience it.

Recently, I had a wake-up call in my prayer life from a very unlikely source. I started doing push-ups every day, and I have done multiple sets of push-ups every day (but one) in the past two weeks. It was the inspiration of the Holy Spirit that getting healthier involved doing little things each day... and that I didn't have to lose 40 pounds in a week. I've averaged about 60 pushups a day on week days and far fewer on the weekends. Let me tell you, the effect it had on me was incredible.

My spirits were higher. Things didn't get to me half as easily. I felt like a million bucks those first few days! Chalk it up to endorphins or slowly developing discipline... whatever the exact cause, the effect was amazing. What I came away with? I can't believe I didn't do this before; something so simple making that big of a difference!

I immediately thought of my prayer life in the same way. Holiness is gained on the battlefield of everyday life. Many saints have said it; this isn't an original thought. Doing push-ups has been that experience for me--the convincing, lived experience. Doing small things well on a daily basis makes all the difference in the world!

Another Highlight

Today I went to daily Mass at St. Joseph's and discovered another great change in the new translation. In Eucharistic Prayer 3, the previous line was "may He [Jesus] make us an everlasting gift to you..."

The new line now has "eternal offering." I don't mind too much about everlasting/eternal, although the latter seems to point more directly to heaven than the former. The main thing that stood out was the word "offering." Gift is a synonym of offering in some senses, but they're not an exact match. An offering brings more baggage, so to speak. All the Old Testament sacrificial offerings (most notably the Passover lamb) come to mind. The word "offering" also brings up the sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary... and our participation in it!

1 Cor 10: 16-18 "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. Consider the people of Israel; are not those who eat the sacrifices partners in the altar?"

Col 1:24 "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church"

With these two passages, St. Paul is trying to convey how intimately we're involved in the sacrifice of Jesus. We're not just outside observers! We are partners in the sacrifice and we can take our own sufferings and offer our sacrifices in union with Christ's sacrifice on Calvary.

Having "offering" in Eucharistic Prayer 3 adds layers of richness to the words.

New Liturgical Year, New Translation for Mass!

Today is the first Sunday of Advent! Gone is the season of Ordinary Time... gone are green vestments... the apocalyptic readings of the past month have taken a back seat to the great time of preparation. Also gone is the translation of the Mass that was used for my entire life. It's a bit surreal to think about, not to mention that this will be the translation of the Mass that I'll hear until I die. The third edition of the Roman Missal was used today at our parish for the first time--and I have a number of thoughts about it. Here they are, in no particular order of importance.

• I've read a lot of articles and blog posts on this subject, and there's frequent mention of the passing of the previous translation as if a loved one had died. There were other less charitable comments sniping at the Magisterium, infuriated that the bishops didn't ask them about their feelings on changing the translation. My experience has been nothing like that, however. I can't relate to either of those at all... and the "pastoral sensitivity" reflex I gained in the seminary screams at me, that I'm wrong for not relating to those feelings. I don't feel guilty in this case, however. In fact, I look with a degree of scorn on ICEL of the 1960s and the authoring of the previous translation. I don't have a problem with Magisterial authority that promulgated the old translation. I do have a problem that ICEL left out words, phrases, and watered the prayers of the Mass down. Hearing some of the more poetic language today (in addition to bigger, theological words like 'consubstantial'), regaining the riches of the Latin text... LOOK AT WHAT WE'VE BEEN MISSING FOR 40 YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!! You can dismiss me as a church geek but that's my story and I'm stickin' to it. (shout out to Fr. Brooks Beaulaurier!)
• One of the best quotes I found about the above sentiment is a brief quote from a "First Things" article by Wolfhart Pannenberg, quoted in the Magnificat companion. I believe he said it so well that I need not comment about it: "The absolutely worst way to respond to the challenge of secularism is to adapt to secular standards in language, thought, and way of life. If members of a secularist society turn to religion at all, they do so because they are looking for something other than what that culture already provides." (full article here)
• As I experienced greater liturgies as a result of my time in the seminary, I started to view the style of Mass I saw from my youth as very horizontal. Yes, the horizontal dimension of the liturgy is very important... but it's secondary to the vertical dimension. We don't come to pat ourselves on the back or be in community: we come to worship God. Every other aspect of the Mass flows out of that. The language of the new translation seems to recapture the vertical dimension. It was never absent (nor could it be) but it was not highlighted as prominently.
• One of my favorite lines was: "Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb." Love it on multiple levels! For one, this is cool for me because I'm reading through the Book of Revelation right now. The "supper of the Lamb" comes right from Revelation, referring to the wedding feast of the Lamb (Rev 19:9). Secondly, I like how it highlights the marriage/wedding imagery of the covenant between Christ and his Church. I love the intimacy of the image... and it means so much more to me now that I've been married for a little over a year. I have a better picture of the love God has for me because of the love that my wife has showed me.
• Fr. Philip, our pastor, noted some things about the new translation that were worth writing down. He related a point from a talk by Fr. Jeremy Driscoll, a.k.a. best teacher ever: elements of the prayers come directly from Jesus (the institution narrative at the last supper), directly from St. Paul's pen (the introduction to the Mass, "Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ be with you..."), and come from the history and tradition of the Church. How amazing is that???? The Roman Missal is so much bigger than us! (my words, not Fr. Philip's, lest he get in trouble) We can't forget in the varied reactions to the new Missal that it transcends country, century, and culture! When we participate in Mass every week, we are joined to the one Eucharistic sacrifice; we are in mystical communion with the Holy Trinity, the Angels, the Communion of Saints, and with every Mass said "from the rising of the sun to its setting" (Euch. Prayer 3, Mal 1:11). To quote The Matrix, that'll bake your noodle. What an amazing blessing that the Church cares so much about the Mass that she has given us this new translation to better enter into it!

I don't always speak my mind such, especially on the first bullet point. Pressing the 'publish post' button makes me a little nervous. If anyone other than my parents, father-in-law, and sister reads this and would like to discuss it further, please, let's discuss! I'd ask your gracious consideration of my opinion and I will return the favor.

Light Bulb Moments

I thought I'd set a personal record for posting twice in one week. As I was reading the Book of Revelation, I had one of those "light bulb" moments. In cartoons since I was a kid, if any character died or pretended to die, an angel-version of that character (Wiley Coyote, for example) with wings and a harp would slowly ascend up to heaven. I never thought much of it. There are angels in heaven, harps are peaceful instruments, heaven is peaceful; there you go!

In Revelation, St. John has a number of visions of heaven. In Rev 14:2, he describes a voice coming from heaven that "was like the sound of harpers playing on their harps." Later in Rev 15:2, there are "those who had conquered the beast... with harps of God in their hands."

I found that very interesting! What better place to look for a visual image of death & heaven than the book of Revelation? I don't know what it says about me that my first thought was in the direction of cartoons rather than anything pious. Still, I think it's a reasonable conclusion that someone on the Looney Tunes animation team was a Christian. There may be other reasonable explanations, but I haven't consulted the omnicient Google yet...

In the Garden

It's official, I'm just as lazy with this blog as I was with past ones. Eh. The following was a post I meant to publish (doesn't that sound official!) a few weeks ago. Actually, it's probably more like a month ago.

My father-in-law hauled over his rototiller and went through the backyard. I helped and later cleaned the gutters. As I worked in the yard, it struck me how many spiritual lessons could be garnered from the garden. One of the first was general frustration. How many of us want the beautiful yard but would rather not do the work? The thing is, you can't expect polished yard without sweat and hard work. People who can hire a landscaping company aren't a part of this example, by the way. Too frequently we forget that the finished product depends on the hard work and is a result of the sweat.

Another lesson is from weeds. Unattended weeds take over a yard quickly and get exponentially worse. Some have diabolical, pernicious root systems that are nearly impossible to remove. In that they're strikingly similar to the bad habits/regular sins. The longer we tolerate sin and refuse to eradicate our bad habits, the more they dig in. You can strike at the weed/the sin above ground, but the true way to get rid of it is to uproot it. And they're maddening to eradicate; every time you think you got rid of them, they come back.

I was digging up & turning over dirt next to the fence where the rototiller couldn't reach. Looking at my shovel and the length of the fence, I swore. Isn't the spiritual life the same? If we look too far ahead and see all the work we have to do, who wouldn't despair? Or think that it would be easier to give up than it would be to start? Once I did start digging & turning over the soil, I'd get a few feet and look back at how far I'd gone. Next I'd question the point of doing that much, since it felt like I hardly made a dent.

Progress is an odd thing in the spiritual life, since it often comes in times we don't expect. That is, those little good works that feel meaningless (like spading dirt along the fence). Those times of suffering when it felt like anything but growth. God knows us and perfectly understands what we need to grow--so He sends us people that love us, a Church to guide us, and consolations along the way.

Incidentally, thinking about the yardwork in a spiritual way was one of the few times I'd ever really felt like I was doing my work for the Lord. I've always known that I could, and I can connect the dots intellectually. But feeling it? That's new! Damn I'm a slow learner.

Them's Fightin' Words

A while ago, I conversed with one of my best friends regarding Bible translations. There are so many translations out there: what one should you pick?

Right from the start, any translation of the Bible lose things on the way from one language to another. To get intellectual here, I'll use the word "dude" as an example. Sure, there are slang words in other languages that more or less fit the English version, but so much would get lost! A surfer's "Dude!", a stoner's "duuuuuuddddee...", "DUDE!" used as an angry exclamation, it could go on and on. A translation could get the literal meaning across; it couldn't possibly get the connotation across.

Thus, not everything translates elegantly. But since we American Catholics aren't fluent in Greek, we have to do our best with the translations we have.

A Scriptural example of a translation problem is 1 Timothy 6:12. "Fight the good fight of the faith, take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses." (Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition). I'll just focus on the first phrase, "fight the good fight of the faith."

What do the main Catholic translations have?

Douay-Rheims (DR): "Fight the good fight of faith"

New American Bible (NAB): "Compete well for the faith"

New Jerusalem Bible (NJB): "Fight the good fight of faith"

New Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition (NRSV): "Fight the good fight of the faith"

All consistent except for the NAB. I really hope this was fixed in the revised NAB that came out a few months ago! The translation really bothered me and I decided to investigate it.

1) Literal

Looking it up in the Greek-English interlinear New Testament, there are two words in that phrase that correspond to "fight the good fight." Before going further, I must fully disclose: I can't read a lick of Greek. This won't have anything to do with the literal meanings of these words. But any schmuck such as myself could look at all the squiggly characters and see two very similar words AND that the NAB leaves one of them out. Even if the word "fight" was translated as "compete," the NAB only includes the verb ("compete") and leaves out the noun "fight."

2) Figurative/Behind the Words

The theological dictionary that I consulted about the word "fight" (and its grammatical relatives) described pre-NT uses of the words as well as the scriptural ones. In secular usage, these words referred to the Greek stadium and its varied contests and conflicts. The usage didn't stop there, however. In the writings of some Greek philosophers, the meaning of the "fight" words extended to include exercise in virtue and striving to live a moral life. Those meanings were still around and in use in St. Paul's day. He not only uses the "fight" words but also uses some war-like imagery. More on that later.

3) Fight vs. Compete: other uses in the NT

In Sacred Scripture, St. Paul employed the "fight" words more than once in his letters. Here is a list of the verses where the same word "fight" is used (Strong #75):

Luke 13:24: "Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able."

In this teaching one can assume that striving wasn't something particularly easy. We can also hear echoes of "take up your cross and follow me."

John 18:36: "Jesus answered, 'My kingship is not of this world; if my kingship were of this world, my servants would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews..."

Here, fighting refers directly to battle.

1 Cor 9:25: "Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable."

The context here is athletic competition. Paul continues on and uses boxing as imagery. Did you know boxing was in the Bible?

Col 1:29: "For this I toil, striving with all the energy which he mightily inspires within me."

Striving here again. Feel the weight in St. Paul's words... toil... striving with all the energy...

Col 4:12: "Epaphras, who is one of yourselves, a servant of Christ Jesus, greets you, always remembering you earnestly in his prayers..."

Without knowing Greek, the use of the word "remembering" sounds a little odd, given the preceding verses. Still, the tone of the adverb "earnestly" goes along with striving.

1 Tim 4:10: "For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all men, especially of those who believe."

Striving again, just like in Colossians and Luke.

2 Tim 4:7: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

This echoes the verse in question (1 Tim 6:12). Interestingly, the NAB is consistent: it translates "fought the good fight" as "competed well."

Words can mean a variety of things depending on the context. Striving, fighting... the Greek word (however it's pronounced) seems to carry a lot of anguish with it.

4) The Final Round: the Context of Paul's Letters to Timothy

This comes only from my own reflections; I haven't consulted any commentaries about this. St. Paul's overall tone to Timothy suggests that the protege needs to be a little more bold. Paul uses a lot of verbs in the command form. The tone is so different than Paul's other letters that some scholars (okay, I looked that part up) think that Paul didn't really write them. I don't believe that, however. These two letters were from an experienced veteran to a rookie who was struggling with certain aspects of his ministry. Many of the verbs are in the command form: do, fight, preach, admonish.

Bottom line: I think the NAB castrates 1 Tim 6:12. Their translation could be perfectly valid, but I don't like their omission of "fight" (see above) and I don't think "compete well" fits with the overall context of St. Paul's letters to Timothy. Translators have a tough job, but one of their duties is to not suck the vitality out of the original text.

For the Beauty of the Earth...

Sometimes the majesty of God is grand and overwhelming; sometimes His majesty is best expressed in a whisper. As I drove to work this morning, a thin layer of fog veiled the nearby foothills. The hills and the trees were a dark silhouette against the blue sky; the sun was just starting to make its way over the clouds. This was not a wonder of the world, not the Grand Canyon, not a mountain top view. Those hills were quite the opposite: small, humble... but no less beautiful. The Lord's handiwork glows just as much in the smaller things as it does the larger things.

Mountains and hills, bless the Lord! (Daniel 3:75)

This Just In: People Have Weird Ideas About Jesus

I've finished reading Fr. Mitch Pacwa's Catholics and the New Age, a book equally informative and testimonial.  He isn't simply writing a book pointing out the incompatibility of Catholicism and the New Age movement; he experienced and experimented with New Age practices in the 1970s.   I've found his narrative very valuable because of that experience.

I came across some material that reminded me of a confusing conversation a few years ago.  When I worked at Easter's Catholic Books & Gifts in Sacramento, one customer mentioned "ego suffering" in a conversation.  I don't remember what led up to that point.  This customer told myself and one of the owners that Jesus didn't actually suffer on the cross.  It was actually ego suffering.  Neither of us had heard that term before and didn't know what it meant.  She had learned about this on the Cursillo retreat (of which she was very proud)... and I assume it was a fluke, since I have heard otherwise great things about the Cursillo retreats.

As far as I can tell, this "ego suffering" probably comes from the enneagram, a New Age circle thing that has nine points/personality types.  The opposites of the personality types were different ego characteristics.  "Each ego characteristics was described as a poisonous way of being and relating. No ego  could be retained; removal was the sole cure." (Pacwa, Catholics and the New Age pg. 101)  Maybe that customer meant that Jesus was suffering in order to get to His essence?  Get rid of that ego?  Who knows... when I read that part of Fr. Mitch's book, it sounded like it fit.

It really sounded gnostic.  Gnosticism was a heresy that the Church encountered in the 2nd Century; it had many different manifestations because of the number of crackpots involved.  One of the common features was that the gnostic leaders offered secret knowledge (gnosis is Greek for knowledge) that led to salvation.  St. Irenaeus wrote against this particular heresy... up until the last century, the actual contents of the gnostic writings weren't known; all scholars had was St. Irenaeus' response salvo.  Scholars actually criticized him, saying that he was going over the top in his criticisms just to make his point.  When the gnostic documents at Nag Hammadi were dug up, scholars saw that St. Irenaeus wasn't going over the top after all.  The gnostic writings were just that weird!

The Gnostics missed the boat, however; there isn't any secrecy when it comes to the teachings of Jesus.  Jesus first had a public ministry of teaching and then established His Church to make sure that His message would go out to all the world.  The Bible describes the Apostles teaching in public squares; St. Paul sailed around the eastern Mediterranean, going everywhere he could.  There was nothing secret about that!

The customer's assertion of Jesus not really suffering is flat wrong.  Maybe some New Agers think that, maybe some misguided Catholics or Christians believe that.  St. Paul himself says in 1 Corinthians: "we preach Christ crucified" (1:23).  There wasn't some deeper, secret meaning, only this: for the sake of every human soul, Jesus suffered and died on the cross.

Scattered thoughts on 9/11

I can't believe it has been ten years since 9/11.  TEN YEARS.

One year for Christmas (years before 9/11) my older sister Kristy gave me a pocket atlas, among other things.  On the front cover was a picture of the twin towers in New York... I still have that atlas and whenever I pick it up, I look at it a little longer.  I'm not sure if I even knew what the buildings were when Kristy first gave it to me.

Out of all the songs that came out in the wake of 9/11, Alan Jackson's "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning" was by far the best.  Very well-written song.  The other country music tributes, as I remember, were infinitely inferior.

There was a movie that came out about 9/11; it involved the rescuing of someone and an inside look at the passengers who prevented the plane from hitting the White House.  I had no desire to watch the movie... images get to me, they sink in deep.  If it's something frightening or disturbing in any way, it sticks to me. I didn't want to see any more detail about the towers collapsing on top of people.  For the same reason, I thank the Lord and my guardian angel that I never saw footage of people jumping out of the buildings.  The image of the towers collapsing on the news is enough.

My mom woke me up that morning when the first plane hit.  Still, I went to school.  My history professor gave the class a choice: either hold class as normal, to focus our minds on something else, or turn on the news.  We watched the news the whole time and the class was collectively in shock.

Did anyone see this coming?  Even though the first Iraq war wasn't all that long before 9/11, the fight never came to us.  Not since Pearl Harbor!  What a blessing it was, for the United States to be safe for 60 years.  A luxury, really, if you look at other places in the world.

There was a priest who died giving the last rites to a fireman.  He was a chaplain for the firemen.  And he never saw it coming... but he died doing his duty, fulfilling the vows he took when he was ordained.  Is there a death more honorable?

Our Lady of the Lake

In a somewhat-related tribute to the start of Notre Dame's football season, here's a quick post on my visit to Lourdes, France, way back in 1999.  The full name of that university in South Bend, IN is Notre Dame du Lac, which is French for "Our Lady of the Lake."  And Lourdes is in France.  Close enough, right?  

To be honest, I'm surprised that something didn't happen to me on that trip to Lourdes.  I took the Chunnel from London to Paris, then hopped on a train to Lourdes.  Before I left, I asked for a little help from one of the French students.  I spoke maybe a few words of French--"sacre bleu," which was in "Beauty and the Beast" (still don't know what it means) and "merci," which is easy enough.  My understanding of French was far less.  That is, zero.  That friend tried to tell me how to converse in a basic conversation but I quickly realized its futility.  I could speak in flawless French but if I didn't understand what was being said to me in response, what use was it?  So my friend graciously wrote down a few travel-related phrases; including the very ironic "I don't know French."  

I arrived in the Lourdes train station at 8 pm local time and it was much darker than I would've preferred.  I didn't have a hotel booked, since I was under the impression that there were a billion hotels there.  That turned out to be true... but this was November, not the peak tourist season.  I walked for about ten minutes, my anxiety increasing with each passing moment.  By the grace of God, I spied a small hotel that was open.  I walked in, was roughly able to communicate with the attendant, and went upstairs to my room.  

At this point, I was very unsettled.  The ratio of normal minutes to anxiety-filled minutes is similar in kind to the human years to dog years ratio.  Still, for wandering around for hours (on the anxiety-filled minutes scale), I was okay.  I had a place to sleep other than the train station.  No problem now!

Until I couldn't lock the door to my room.  It was one of those old-fashioned keys/keyhole things and I couldn't lock the door for the life of me!  Back on Anxiety-Filled Standard Time.  It took a while to sleep, and ultimately I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.  

The next day I went souvenir shopping and spent a lot of time in the Grotto.  It was truly one of the most powerful spiritual experiences in my life.  I felt so loved!  So special!  I sat inside the cave itself, on one of the benches, praying rosary after rosary for about two hours.  

I don't mean to glance over the good part and relish in the craziness that preceded it.  The craziness makes for a fun story to tell.  The catch about the good part--how much more can I say about it?  I prayed, I felt loved, I felt like Our Lady was looking at me like her favorite--er, second favorite--child.  There weren't a lot of people there (others knew better than to travel to a mountain town in late November) but I felt like the Blessed Mother set everything up that weekend just for me.  The details may be sparse but the power was in its simplicity.  

Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us!  St. Bernadette, pray for us!

No one is out of reach

The going-out-of-business sale that Borders is having initially made me drool. I'm a bibliophile, as my wife can attest, and I was genuinely excited at the thought of buying books at a good discount. Alas, Borders' prices were already inflated--for the first few weeks of the sale, it was still cheaper to buy books on Amazon.

Shelves in such a sale are subject to natural selection: only the popular survive. Some books are spread around the store, seemingly in a desperate attempt to get rid of them.

One of those books was the tell-all by the currently-Episcopalian, formerly-Roman Catholic priest Alberto Cutie called Dilemma. I never would have known the book existed had it not been in the bargain bin at Borders (and the religion section, and the biography section). Cutie (pronounced with an accent on the last syllable; I don't know how good looking he actually is) served in Miami, had a local Catholic radio show in Spanish, and later was featured on EWTN. In short: a very high profile priest. His profile grew even larger when a secret relationship came to light; Cutie left the priesthood, then left the Catholic Church and married his lover.

Now as to the title... no one is out of reach. No one. Not an extremely popular Florida priest/media personality. Who got into radio/TV to bring souls to Christ! Not even a dynamic preacher named Fr. Corapi, who could fill a convention center at the mere mention of his name. Not the founder of a widespread youth ministry program, the very popular Msgr. Dale Fushek. I won't bother with the details of each story, they're already well-covered.

The falls of high-profile clerics really get under my skin. It's partially a naive incredulity, as if they wouldn't sin. That's plain nuts. Another part of it was their mission. How could they carry out the ministries they did if they weren't saints? (more naivete on my part) A third part was plain disappointment. I thought highly of Corapi and his preaching. I marveled at his conversion story and seeing that grace is, in fact, more powerful than any sin. When I volunteered with my parish youth group, I experienced the Life Teen youth ministry program (Fushek). He started the program to draw teenagers into the Catholic faith and to a deeper relationship with Jesus. The departure of one teen from his parish sparked a movement that touched the lives of thousands!

Throwing Cutie into the mix, how many souls did the three of them bring to Christ? How many people--I'd guess in the tens of thousands--were brought to Christ? And think of those converts and the lives they, in turn, touched and brought to Christ? Praise the Lord for the work that Jesus did through those three men!

Now go from three Spirit-filled priests to three ex-priests. Two left the Catholic Church (Cutie and Fushek) and the other opted for a brand over the priesthood (Corapi)? It drove me crazy. I tried to distill the reason from the frustration. Was it pride? Some other sin? Was it because of the fame? Or something the public never saw?

The only thing that gave me peace was that single thought: no one is out of reach. That might sound odd or anything but peaceful. Still, we humans cannot escape our fallen nature! The devil will tempt us, yes, but sometimes he doesn't have to work very hard. We will be tempted until our death, whether the temptations be small or large. God promises His grace to all who ask, yet we could be drowning in an ocean of grace and still refuse it.

Lastly, I cannot close without acknowledging my own sinfulness. I have plenty of weaknesses and shortcomings. I don't consider myself very far advanced on the path to holiness. I am a sinner, no better or worse than Cutie, Corapi, or Fushek. The challenge to all of us is perseverance in the Catholic faith! The minute we give up or stop trying, the easier we fall.

The Cost of Discipleship

Sunday’s reading continued our walk through the Gospel of Matthew. It consisted of the three short parables of the Kingdom of God: the treasure in the field, the pearl of great price, and the fisherman’s net. Previously, my main focus in these stories was the value of the Kingdom. I always pictured the treasure in the field as a pirate treasure chest, filled with gold and jewels. Who wouldn’t want something as valuable as a treasure chest? Similarly, the pearl of great price is something glamorous… a pearl of immense value and beauty. What great images of the Kingdom, especially for the materialistic culture we live.

This time, however, the cost of the Kingdom was highlighted. The Kingdom is no less beautiful or valuable. In fact, it was because of its great value that the two characters (the farmer & the merchant) sacrificed so much. They both went and sold all that they had! ALL. The merchant didn’t sell most of what he had, bought the pearl of great price, then jumped into his fancy carriage and returned to his mansion. The farmer didn’t sell some of his things, bought the field that contained the treasure, and then met with his stockbroker to monitor his 401(k).

In the parables, Jesus reminds us that there is sacrifice to following Him. Embracing the Kingdom necessarily involves turning our back on the world, to the point of giving things up and suffering. It’s counter intuitive, to be sure—suffering and self-denial point us to happiness? Those silly Catholics…

Even with the promise of suffering, there’s still a nagging question underneath Jesus’ invitation to follow Him: what if it’s true? Just imagine… what if everything He promised will happen? He worked all those miracles…

“I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18)

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Cor 2:9, quoting Isaiah 64:4)

Parabolically Speaking

Today's Gospel reading selected three parables about the Kingdom of God from Matthew 13 (24-43). Coincidentally, they occur immediately after the parable of the sower (on which the title of this blog is based). Three more parables come after this reading, making Matthew 13 an awesome catalog of parables on the Kingdom of God.

I don't want to offer an idea on the content of the parables but rather on the concept of a parable. God knows us so well! He knows how we tick. If Jesus would have started preaching, giving various facts about the Kingdom of God? Sure, we'd listen. Jesus didn't go with a mere description, however. He painted a picture, using analogy and images to teach. Isn't that awesome? We have a hard time picturing something we've never seen (the Kingdom) and abstractions only help so much. Not so with this story! We can picture a field of wheat, we can picture having an enemy, and even if we're not a farmer, we have some vision of what a harvest is. In the other stories the examples are similar. Maybe we can't conceive the potential power of the faith, but we can look at a seed and know that, however small it is, it can grow into a tree. And who among us hasn't found a "pearl of great price" here or there? A dream house? A retirement account that Trump would envy? A 6-speed Dodge Viper V10 with 600 horses and the racing stripes down the middle? I digress, but we all know how the merchant felt when he saw something of immense value.

Parables teach so well because we can relate to theme. Jesus taps into our imaginations, our intellects, and our emotions teach us. Now that is a teacher who knows His students.

Men's Retreat reflections

Last weekend, I was blessed to go on the St. Mary's Parish men's retreat. I've gone on the retreat for three years now and it never fails to uplift me. Located somewhere east of here that has a lot of trees, the scenery is stunning! Last weekend, we had perfect weather and a nice, clear view of Mt. Hood both days. The fellowship is great, the food is always amazing (and plentiful), and it's a "journey out into the wilderness" to encounter God... away from cell phones, Facebook, work, and TV.

Each year, something different has struck me. Last year, the Bible verses that stood out to me was John 8:31-32: "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." This hit me between the eyes! The primary obstacle in my spiritual life at the time was laziness. I prayed for God to set me free from that laziness. That, instead of drifting through the world, I stand up and make a commitment to a stronger Catholic life. Temptations vary, and we must never forget that the temptation to do nothing--while not something evil like killing someone--can be disastrous to our spiritual lives.

That realization led to a renewed appreciation for my favorite of St. Paul's letters, Ephesians. At the end of Ephesians, he exhorts the community to put on the armor of God. After all, "we are not contending against flesh and blood but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." (Eph 6:12) I heard a reading of Eph 6:17 before, that "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" should be used by us to attack the sin inside of us. Very, very powerful image after that retreat.

This year, the focus turned out to be a little different. Laziness is still a struggle for me, but not as much as last year (by the grace of God). This year the spotlight was on leadership. Fr. Mitch Pacwa (from EWTN) was our speaker on the retreat and he was phenomenal. Our retreat closed with a talk on the history of the Catholic Church in the last 50 years since Vatican II. Fr. Mitch highlighted a lot of the movements within the Church. Nearly all of the movements that reignited the laity were started by the laity. And the future of the Church is bright! The Spirit is no less present to us than it was to the Apostles.

The fruit from all that was excitement. I was even more excited about the Theology on Tap that is happening in Mt. Angel. I saw the good men that were on the retreat and saw that the Church is strong. And I thought, yeah, why don't I try to start blogging and writing about these things again?

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!

Round 2

Another blog! I tried my hand at a blog a while ago but stopped due to laziness. Unfortunately, someone took my previous title, "Tilling the Soil" so I just made it longer. My approach is a little different this time. Before, I wanted to blog for other people… a desire to share with a dash of vanity. Maybe people will see how smart I am! haha! What’s different is that I will be blogging for me now. I want to write more—emails and Facebook posts aren’t exactly “writing.” I figure that the more I write, the more I exercise those little gray cells (as Poirot would say). Thanks for reading, though. I'll do my best to make it worth your time.