I was late.  Again.  It’s nothing new for me, but it was driving me crazy none the less.  Around the corner from the parking lot into the separate handicapped parking area I sprinted when a woman with a bag on her shoulder came running up to me so very daintily.  Through the fog of muttering at myself in my head for being late again I almost didn’t even notice her until I heard her ask, “Do you know where they’re having Mass today?”  Still stuck in between self pity and self loathing I turned around and jogged backwards as I nodded my head back and said, “It’s in the Chapel during the week, not in the Church”.  Then I realized this poor lady was trying to catch up to me and I was being incredibly rude to run past her, so thoroughly focused on my own problems was I.

I slowed down to a slightly fast walk (which I now realize was probably all but a jog for this lady as she is a full foot shorter than me) and as she pulled up even with me said, “Oh thank God you were here, I was convinced the Devil was going to keep me away from Mass.”  My body may have kept moving toward the Chapel door, but my brain stopped dead in its tracks right on that spot.

I don’t know why she was so desperate to get to Mass that morning – I’ve never seen her there again since, so I can only imagine it was something very important to her.  She needed to get to Mass and God delivered the help she needed, just not in the way either she or I would ever have imagined it.  I know that God can work good out of bad and even evil situations, but turning my penchant for being five minutes late into being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time wasn’t one I had expected.  Think about that the next time you think nothing is going to help your situation.

It’s with a heavy heart that I realize the post title would probably be the extent of the response most people these days would be able to muster to the question posed below, compared with the eloquence of St. Cyril of Jerusalem.  And yes, I am totally and completely thieving the quote from Mike Aquilina’s A Year With The Church Fathers; I consider it advertising for an eminently worthy work.  Yes, yes that should do nicely.  In an age like ours that so often attempts to blindly put the past behind us it does us well to look back to find the deep riches of wisdom in the words of our forebears.

But someone might say, “If what God is can never be comprehended, why do you even talk about these things?”

So, then, because I can’t drink up the whole river, am I not even allowed to take in moderation what’s good for me?  Because with eyes made like mine I can’t look directly at the sun, am I not even allowed to look at as much of the sunlight as I want?  Or if I go into a big garden and can’t eat all the fruits, would you have me go away completely hungry?

I praise and glorify him who made us, for it is a divine command that says, “Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!” (Psalm 150:6).  Right now I am trying to glorify the Lord, but not to describe him.  Although I know I won’t be able to glorify him as he deserves, yet I still think it’s a work of piety even to try at all.

– St. Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lecture 6, 5

… something positive about the Church, you know it’s hard to ignore.  As a Postulant for the Lay Dominicans this article really gave me something to smile about.  It would seem that, contrary to many other signs of trouble in the Church, vocations to the Dominicans are on the rise particularly in Ireland and the Northeastern US.  Why?  In part, as the article says, because they stuck to the fundamentals of the Order and continued to wear their habits and live in community.

“We made a conscious decision a few years ago to wear the habit because we had no vocations and we were in a bad way,” said Father Dunne, 46, who estimates that he has traveled nearly a half-million miles along Ireland’s country lanes and highways in search of recruits. “If we didn’t present ourselves in an authentic manner, who would join us? And that meant going back to the fundamentals.”

…

Even as other orders close houses and parish priests in Ireland are vanishing at a time of clerical sexual abuse scandals, the Dominican order is growing, and not just in Ireland.

…

In the United States, the largest northeastern branch is expecting 18 novices to enter its theology school in Washington, which was expanded three years ago. In the smaller southern region based in New Orleans, the Dominicans are scrambling to finance an influx of novices — six this year — with annual expenses of $30,000 for lodging and theology education over seven years.

Yes, despite what so many would like us to believe, the Church is continuing to win when people take a long hard honest look at what the culture offers them.  Sometimes good news really is as simple as black and white.

H/T to Godzdogz.

…well the old saying says “May flowers” but in my case it’s peas and lettuce (so far).  When you have the relatively short growing period we do up here in the Northeast you take chances every time you plant early.  Sometimes you’re rewarded with a bumper crop, sometimes a late frost wipes out your work before it ever got going and you have to start all over again.  I was always amazed that my mother seemed to know exactly the right time to plant our (to me) huge garden and somehow I never can quite figure that out.  I guess the truly green thumb skipped this generation somehow.

Spending a few hours this past weekend getting the garden ready for the early plants gave me some quality time to think.  Fortunately my gardens are small enough to be turned over with a shovel, so contemplating deeper truths wouldn’t wind up with a runaway rototiller.  That’d be … bad.  I’ve always wondered at God’s providence in timing His Resurrection around the same time as this hemisphere is experiencing the wonders of new growth in nature – buds are popping, flowers are blooming, baby animals are poking their noses out into a fresh new world.

“Therefore, if any one is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.” (2 Cor 5:17)  Even though we’re in the season of Easter it’s very easy by now to have swung back to the way we were living before rebuilding ourselves over Lent for the great celebration of Easter.  In our Baptism we were made new creations in Christ – whether our lives have fully shown that truth or not!  We are those seeds that once buried come to life anew giving life, vigor and sustenance to the world.  Let’s let these new sprouts remind us of our great calling and take up again the new life to which we have been called!

If anyone out there is using the Logos Bible software tool, or its Catholic-targeted derivative Verbum, you’ll want to view the short videos they’ve been putting out every week of Easter thus far.  The videos are all only a few minutes and, while they do have a small amount of upselling going on (and let’s be realistic, if you use Logos much you’re pretty used to their subtle upselling by now), the tips and tricks in them make using this massive piece of software much, much easier.  I found even after just the first two videos that I felt much more comfortable sitting down to do some research – suddenly that feeling that you were going to be swallowed by the ocean of abilities and resources isn’t nearly so bad.  The four videos so far are:

How to use Logos for Apologetics 1

How to use Logos for Apologetics 2

How to use Logos for Apologetics 3

How to use Logos for Apologetics 4

In an effort to kickstart this thing again I’m going to try some lower-minimum-effort blogging.  Writing long posts that wrap around multiple sides of a topic is fun, but let’s face it – doing so requires quite a bit of time all at once that is incredibly hard for me to come by these days.  In that effort, I’m going to try to include smaller posts as I come across things that seem of interest, rather than waiting for that one big huge oh my goodness I’ve gotta blog this thing to come by.  So, with that…

The Family is the Key to the Future of Faith
The demise of the practice of faith is a foregone conclusion.  As people become more prosperous they necessarily become more secular.  Religion only appeals too the less-educated and less-well-to-do in society.  This article addresses all these propositions that modern society considers self-evident and shows how they are anything but.  If you want to feel better about the chances for a resurgence of faith in this country this would be a good place to start.  It’s amazing how frequently the facts don’t actually support the narrative we’re supposed to believe.

The Infertility Objection to Traditional Marriage
This article echoes, albeit far more eloquently, a discussion I recently had with our parish RCIA folks.  While I’m sure the exact terminology used here would cause entirely too many peoples’ eyes to glaze over it’s a wonderful overview of the reality of an argument used frequently to justify same-sex marriage: the capacity to have children cannot be considered part of marriage because infertile couples are already allowed to marry.  If, as is posited in the post linked above, the health of the family is crucial to the health of the church it is imperative that those who love the church and love the family are able to defend both in truth.

Well whaddaya know, this took less time than those big long posts.  Who’da thunk?

We find ourselves today standing in the glow of the news of the Resurrection so brilliantly proclaimed just two days ago on Easter Sunday, a truth so incredible it takes us eight days to say it and fifty days to celebrate it.  Eight days for the Octave of Easter in which we now find ourselves, which reverberates with the echoes of the seemingly incomprehensible news that not only has the Messiah come, but he has come as one of us; not only has he come as one of us but he even went so far as to die for us; that not only did he die for us but he has risen just as he said – risen not only as a ghost but with his wounded body intact and indeed glorified.  Let us take the time this eight days, this fifty days, to allow these truths – these mysteries – to sink in not only to our hearts but our heads.

Surrexit Dominus, alleluia, alleluia!
Surrexit Dominus vere, alleluia, alleluia!

There have been about a half a gazillion (no you’re right, probably more) posts made since Pope Francis was elected to the Seat of Peter.  I want desperately to love this man, and there are many many reasons to do so.  His genuineness, his affability, his deep love for the poor, his orthodoxy, his deep reverence for the Eucharist – all of these things are readily obvious right on the surface of this man.  Though I do not recall him first-hand, I’m told he reminds many of Pope John Paul I particularly in how he smiles so frequently (ironic given the rather spurious stories passed around about him that some thought he never smiled).

There is just one thing that keeps sticking for me though.  Every time I watch him at Mass or any liturgical function he opts for the lowest denominator in dress.  Yes, I’m really that shallow, but we’ll get there in a minute – you can put the stick down for now.  You see I live in a world almost bereft of beauty.  Aside from my wife and my children – who are, without a doubt, jewels of the finest grade – so much of the rest of my life is dull compounded upon dreary tied together with plain.  As a software engineer I live in a world of zeros and ones – even as a performance engineer my days are surrounded by numbers, facts, statistics, algorithms and data structures, all of which have the beauty and elegance of a clod of dirt.  Beauty simply does not enter into the daily equation.

Similarly I haven’t the slightest hint of artistic abilities – I can’t paint, draw, sketch, sing or play an instrument (okay so I can make a few notes on a trumpet but that’s the extent of it).  My wife can make crafts of dazzling beauty and does so almost without a thought, but me, yeah, I can draw a straight line if the ruler is taped to the page.  Beauty, being one of the Transcendentals, is something for which we as humans were made by God to long for, along with Truth and Goodness.  The latter two I can pull off on my own in studies and attempting to do good works as inspired by the Lord but Beauty no, sorry, that one I have to look outside for.

I’ve tried appreciating fine wines (that is way too expensive for me and takes many years to properly develop the palate), baking (yeah, uh, every other loaf I bake is pretty decent but certainly not Beautiful), I’ve even tried classics of literature.  They are all interesting, but none of them holds the unspeakable potential of the Mass.  And I’m not just talking about your average run-of-the-mill parish Mass with decent singing of hymns that were hip and trendy at the same time as the first go-round of bell bottoms, altar servers who on occasion have to get a nudge to actually watch what’s going on and vestments with all the artistic qualities of a blank canvas (who ever thought a solid-colored chasuble with zero ornamentation was a good idea anyway?).  I’m talking about a Mass where you have to stop yourself and even the atheist admits, “these people are serious about what they’re doing.”

If I wanted – nay, needed – to experience something truly beautiful in these past years a Mass with Pope Benedict XVI was never that far away.  Not only was there almost bound to be distinct precision by the servers but harmony throughout.  For those who think I’m picking an aesthetic nit, the precision and harmony in the movements by the servers should instantly remind you of the actions of the angels ministering in Heaven.  I have no doubt the angels are not twirling their cincture around their finger when bringing our gifts to God’s altar in heaven.

Wondering which ancient vestment the Holy Father would be wearing was always more than just a touch exciting.  The vestments were so very often themselves a study in theology written in brocade and cloth – no space was wasted in telling the story of some part of our Salvation.  Even his change of crosier from that used by Popes Paul VI and John Paul II was a study in history.  The one thing all these did though was proclaim, “God is near, God is real, He has done everything for you – do everything for Him“.  Look at some of the ancient vestments he wore, contemplate the fact they took months – or longer! – for someone to make.  Even though some of the vestments didn’t fit him just right (let’s face it, not every Pope has had the same body – just look at John XIII and John Paul II as simple examples) they all cried out “there is nothing not worth doing for God, no matter how uncomfortable“.  Even more so, “there is no such thing as too much when it comes to God“.

There is no such thing as too much when it comes to God.

Look at Christ beaten and crucified and say, “this is too much for you” or “that is too much for you”.  It’s incongruous – one simply does not fit with the other.

All you who tell me that I am worked up over nothing, or that I should appreciate simplicity, I beg you to simply mentally spend a few moments in my proverbial shoes.  You want to tell me I’m obsessing over trivialities that’s fine, I readily admit I am a small, weak and sinful man worried far too much about many things of little consequence – I’m not exactly likely to be written into an extended version of the Lives of the Saints.  But if you want to tell me of your deep abiding love for the poor inspired by simplicity, I only ask you to have a little pity for those who are poor in beauty.  That vestment that sighed at and its deep and long history might well have been the greatest glimpse into the beauty of Heaven some of us are likely to see any time soon.  Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner.

I’ll get back to the MMQB series shortly, but I only have a smidge of time to write something that’s buzzing in my head since Mass this morning.  In the first reading this morning we hear from the 2 Kings 5:1-15, the story of Naaman the Syrian leper who is cured by Elisha.  The problem is, Naaman doesn’t like what Elisha tells him he has to do to be cured (simply wash seven times in the Jordan) and goes away angry.  Only after counsel (and, I’d have to guess uninvited counsel at that) from his servants does Naaman do as Elisha told him and is indeed cured of the leprosy.

What was the problem with what Elisha had told Naaman to do?  It was not that it was too strenuous a request – indeed the problem was quite the opposite. ““My father,” they said, “if the prophet had told you to do something extraordinary, would you not have done it? All the more now, since he said to you, ‘Wash and be clean,’ should you do as he said.” (2 Kings 5:13)  The problem was not that he was requested to do something too difficult, too severe – the problem was that he was asked to do something entirely too simple, so simple in fact that his pride was insulted and he went away angry.

For all the kibbutzing we do about how hard it can be to be a good Catholic (and let’s face it, we all do at some point or another) it’s really a very simple request – as I posted yesterday, it all boils down to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” (Lk 10:27)  I know I, for my part, would rather be given some high, grandiose and seemingly impossible task to do – something I could really sink my teeth into and use as obvious inspiration like that mountain peak still afar off.  Being asked the difficult and even the impossible appeals to our egos and if we’re asked for something simple it seems like a letdown, and sometimes just like Naaman we walk away angry or at least disinterested.  But God isn’t after our egos, he’s after our hearts – expecting him to entice the former rather than the latter is the way of the devil.

So c’mon, I dare you (and, yeah, me) to try that seemingly too simple to bother thing to which Jesus has called us.  Love.  With your whole heart, all your soul, and all your strength.  You might find that it takes just a wee bit more work than washing seven times in the Jordan, and the end result won’t just be a body free of leprosy but a soul free to soar to the heights of unimaginable bliss.

I remember to this day watching the ceremonies after the death of Pope John Paul II and wondering just who in the world could possibly take on the role of Pope after this man.  He was, of course, the only Pope I’d known and he seemed to fill the fisherman’s shoes in a way so unique as to be unrepeatable.  I’d made my way through many of his Papal writings and admittedly struggled at times to hold in tension all the various points he made in his particularly spiral logic, circling ever closer to the truth that was at the center.  I think it even effected how I wrote some papers in college, most likely to the chagrin of some of my professors.

If you were willing, and able, to keep up with John Paul II’s logic as it worked its way to a conclusion you would be rewarded with an incredibly in-depth understanding of whatever issue it was he was writing on.  As someone who truly enjoys wringing every last aspect out of a question I felt right at home with this writing style.  Yet simultaneously by the time I was done wrangling my way through his dense prose I was, simply, exhausted.  His writings could be incredibly profound but yet also incredibly exhausting.  A part of me knew the average Joe out there simple did not either care enough nor have the patience to wade through his works to understand why the prevailing public opinion was so often misinformed.

Then I listened to the homily at the funeral, delivered by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, and saw an entirely different way of portraying the truth.  He was simple without being simplistic, humble in a way that you could almost feel.  I’d heard some about this man over the years and the fact that he was disliked intensely by all the right people lent him a certain credibility in my book.  But this man, this “God’s Rottweiler” as he was called, stood there simple, humble and meek.  Was this the same man?  I knew then and there that he was going to be elected the next Pope.

Being the bookworm I am I simply had to start digging into his writings.  I had, of course, no idea just how voluminous they were – this could be a project I will never finish in my lifetime.  The very first book of his that I read was his The Spirit of the Liturgy.  It was incredibly well-researched yet without the dryness or pomposity that can come from the very well-read.  In my insufficiently humble opinion nobody should venture to talk about the Liturgy without having gone through this book at least once; even if you don’t agree with everything he writes you simply owe it to yourself and to the Church to wrestle the points with someone who has an intense interest in the topic.

From there I went on to read his Introduction to Christianity.  Expecting (remember, the word in the title is “Introduction”) a broad but shallow introduction to many topics of the faith I was simply unprepared for the depth and technical precision of this work.  Some days I struggled to barely make it through a couple of pages in my short available reading time.  By the end of the book however I was incredibly glad to have put in the time to make my way through it.

I now have a good chunk of a shelf full of his books, from Salt of the Earth to the Jesus of Nazareth trilogy including the last work and yet I have only barely begun to scratch the surface of his writings.  He inspired me to subscribe to Communio, which with the first installment I received helped me to realize just how little I really know both on the technical topic of theology in general and Catholic theology in specific.  That was a dose of humility I definitely needed.

I could go on and on about how this Pope has changed the way I look at Liturgy, the Church, humanity and even God Himself (let’s face it, who was expecting his first writing as Pope to be on such a simple topic as Deus Caritas Est – “God is Love”).  I think, above all, he has taught me one very valuable lesson – without love all the intellectual firepower in the world is ultimately useless.  This is a man who could write and speak circles around just about anyone on topics of theology and philosophy but yet remained humble and loving enough to teach in a way that often makes you just say “oh, of course, that should have been obvious to me all along”.  Writing that now makes me realize that it does, indeed, all come down to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” (Lk 10:27)  Perhaps the best way to give thanks to God for blessing us with this man as Priest, Bishop, Cardinal and Pope is to take up again and anew that call.

Thank you Papa Bene for your many years of diligent service to the Lord’s Church and indeed all people of the world.  Thank you Lord for the gift of a man with such a loving heart and soaring and gracious intellect.  May we have the humility to be led by his teaching and the love to put others before ourselves and You, Lord, above all.