When Words are Nothing

When daylight fades and all that is left is deep and terrifying darkness what is loudest is always the sound of silence. We notice it more clearly than any other sound because we are surrounded by noise. It takes a weighted moment to stop the sound and that is when the sound loses all sense of purpose.

In times of terrible tragedies we are left with questions. We are left with the desire to comfort others. We are left babbling words like “I’m sorry...” or “Things will get better” but those words fall like stones to the ground. It is in the silence that we show our strength. Only Faith can stand wordless in the face of overwhelming terror. Only faith can be a silent pillar that is unmoved when the entire world around us crumbles. Only faith lashes us to the mast as the storm rages. Only hope can see that there is an end. Only love heals what is left standing afterward.

Thoughts on Relationship Score keeping

We all try to win. We all want to keep score. We try to win arguments, holidays, house work, career, everything. All while Joe Esposito sings "You're the best!"

Anytime you keep score there will be two things that happen for certain. There will be winner and a loser. And the game will end.

When you don't keep score the game goes on forever. It becomes poker with friends. It becomes learning to play better. It becomes father-son basketball too late on a school night. Without a score you just play with who you love and you get to play forever.

Smoke Rings and Whisky Stones

I had been sitting outside watching the sun set for a good hour as the thoughts began pouring through me. I had a cigar and just enough scotch left to last through it. I was left with enough sunlight to write down a few of those thoughts, and this is what came out.

When I first sat in the chair to wind down the evening I had lit the cigar only to find that I did not care for it. It no different than the others I had smoked before but I guess I just was not in the mood yet. I allowed myself to continue smoking. It was lit after all. I put on some happy music. I tend to gravitate towards Irish folk music because it can be happy and sad at the same time. I like that. After I managed the first few smoke rings my demeanor changed and I began to let the pressures and stress float away with them.

I let my mind wander to thoughts of the great minds that I have admired. Tolkien, Lewis, and Chesterton. I have often wondered what it would be like to sit with them, and just listen. Their words that I have read floated through me and my mind came to Mr. Chesterton, whose birthday is today. I don't consider myself adept in his writing mostly because I have not read (or reread) enough of him. He seems to be the flagship apologist from another time, likely because he is just so darn quotable. One of my favorite pieces by him is an essay on what he found in his pockets while stuck in a train station. Another favorite is an essay on chasing one's hat in the wind and why such a thing should not be regarded as silly. If an inconvenience rightly considered is indeed an adventure then I regarded these thoughts as a challenge to be written down and made sense of. So here you are Mr. Chesterton. See what you have sown.

The thing about smoking a pipe or cigar while drinking one's preferred whisky is that it creates a sense of ritual. Doing so at sundown and in bare feet only beckons the thoughts of hobbits saying farewell to their day of eating 6 meals and making mischief. If it is good enough for Bilbo Baggins then it is good enough for me! I wondered if my smoke rings would impress the Grey Wizard who visits the Shire from time to time. Maybe he would laugh. It was indeed a ritual and ritual is lost on our culture. The smoke rising from my chair was the smoke of worry being burnt away. It was the incense being burnt unto the Lord. Prayers rise as smoke to heaven. My thoughts were with them. Contemplative and ritualistic I let those puffs of smoke rise away and to a place that need not concern me because I was here. I was sitting at the center of Creation. I sat alongside those minds that I had admired. The music carried me so some lost tavern as the raucous melodies were chanted as I sat among a throng of men who all came before and after me the same way. I was joined by every man who watched the sun go down and that small part of him wondered if it would rise the next morning but with the faith that it would like some ambitious encore. I was with every man who ever wondered about his fate and how to get there. Ritual joined us together.

At times the smoke can become too much but that is what the whisky is for. They hold each other aloft. Two Pillars of one great moment. Two Pillars to one great faith. I felt grateful for both because I needed both.

Pondering further what the drink and smoke were telling me I thought that the old alchemists would be rather jealous of this. The whisky, the fire of the cigar, the air of my lungs, and the stones I used to chill the glass were bringing the base elements they strained over together. It was not their precious stone that I found though. Gold did not matter to me I thought. And the cold irons that weighted me down were transmuted into something far more precious and light: joy. Joy lightens the heart but only when there is room for it. We often don't realize the space we have for it until the space is made. Joy, that wonderful treasure that is gained only when that which we valued over it has gone missing.

I wished I had another cigar but sometimes you can make more out of less.

I cannot say why I was compelled to write these thoughts down. If for any reason but to recommend watching the sun set with your shoes off, your drink of choice, and a nice pipe. I once pondered the health risk of smoking. Depression kills too. Moderation doesn't. Let yourself float with the smoke rings. That may be the best way to climb to Heaven at times. Float, because after all: “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.” G.K. Chesterton whose birthday is today.  

Three Popes I have seen

They were three fathers. Each one different and yet they all loved the same. I have found myself pondering the lives of the three men I have seen take the helm of the Church I love so much. They have each given their lives as servants to the people of God, not all in the same way or style but certainly from the same source of love.

"My 3 Dads" sounds like a bad sit com but that's how I feel about this picture!

In 2001 I was fortunate enough to see Pope John Paul II (or the Great) in Toronto. His presence was overwhelming, loving, and powerful. It was how one should feel in the presence of a holy person. It was how one should feel in the Presence of the Sacraments. John Paul II gave me my first look at a Pope and what I saw was a man who looked out over a field filled with hundreds of thousands of young eyes and had nothing but love in his heart. As he elevated the Eucharist during Mass in that same field the light broke through the rainclouds directly over the platform he was on and there formed an image burned into my mind for eternity. The Church, The Sacraments, and the Pope were such an example and focal point of love on earth that nothing could stand in its way.

 JPII’s story was nothing short of inspiring. His devotion to Mary and the Church showed so many youth my age that there is a clear cut path to holiness and love. He was a Pope that showed fatherly warmth, with open arms and a big smile. He was our philosopher pope. His writings are brilliant and filled with riches for any Catholic (or non Catholic) young or old. Theology of the Body gave the people of my generation the knowledge and mindset needed to recapture our spirituality in regards to our own bodily Temples.

JPII was that teacher we all loved in Junior High. The guy we wanted to teach every class from now until Graduation day. He was the teacher that taught us how to live not just what was needed to pass the test.

I watched the world mourn his death. I mourned with them. His shining example and his loving smile was gone from this world but his example lived on in each of us and the Church grew because of him.

We waited in anticipation for our next Holy Father and we were given the Spirit’s answer: Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger who would become Benedict XVI. Despite the jokes of his similar appearance to a certain Emperor from a certain Sci-fi franchise I saw in him a very different but all the same loving man who would show us holiness. I saw the shyness in his eyes. I remember reading that he hoped he would not be picked for the job and for that I admired his bravery. He took up the yoke of service and ran with it in his own way. He showed us through his 8 years of papacy that the search for knowledge could be holy. He was our theologian Pope. His quiet wisdom and love of learning showed me that the Church would once again grow in so many ways. I remember his meeting with abuse victims in America within his first years and I remember the look in the eyes of those interviewed who met with him in that private meeting. They may not have returned to the Church, or they may have but they saw the man at the top humble himself before them to beg forgiveness on behalf of the Church. It saddens me so few remember this but it does not surprise me.

Benedict would then shock the entire world with his announcement that he would resign! YOU CAN DO THAT?! Said the entire world.

When the shock finally cleared all that was left was a very big act of humility. It was plain and simple and this act would usher in for the next pope the opportunity to keep that sentiment flowing and show us not a new but very old Church willing to get down on its hands and knees and bare the weight of the world on its back.

Enter Pope Francis.

It has only been a few days into the new papacy and already the world is spinning its collective head to see this man who embraced simplicity of life during his time as a bishop in Argentina to continue to humble himself as Pope. Here is a very different Pope A very different father with a very different style of loving. Even the non-Catholics of the world are in awe of his actions over the past week. A tune which will soon change I am sure when they realize that he is still in fact Catholic and holds to Catholic teachings. The dread of the future is not on my mind however but hope. This man instills so much hope it is unbelievable. It is hope that he can show the Church how to show the world what true Christian love is; That what we preach is attainable and livable, and WORTH THE EFFORT. Pope Francis is a man that in only a short time has set himself apart from his predecessors but also shown that he can stand shoulder to shoulder with them in magnitude of actions. It is a very hopeful future I see in this man and I truly feel that we will all experience the journey along with him as he leads us. This is not a Pope that will feel far away. He will feel close.

He says “I want a poor Church that is for the poor.” We want that too. He wants a Low Church. We need that too. He shows us humility and love. We need to learn this too. We always must be willing to relearn how to love. We are in need of a Low Church because it is the Low Church that elevates the poor so that the High Church can shine its Heavenly beauty upon them.

I do not think he is simply referring to the earthly poor alone. He is referring also to those that are poor in spirit: Those who are despairing, those who are arrogant, those who are in need of love and humility so that they too can walk beneath the very low gate that leads to heavenly holy life. Pope Francis looks to be the man to show us how to get that job done.

VIVA IL PAPA!!!

PENANCE!!

 

 

NO MEAT! PENANCE!!!

 

 

PENANCE!!!

 

 

MORE PENANCE!!!

 

 

 

Ok this one might actually involve some suffering...

 

 

 

Try to hurt a little this Lent, It's good for you.

 

"Life is pain, Highness, anyone who says differently is selling something." -Dread Pirate Roberts laying that Wisdom down

Life of Beauty and Terror

Taking a point from Walker Lemons over at 1001 Rules for my Unborn Son I went to the movies by myself (160) to see Life of Pi. I never read the book and I feel that just added to the experience for me. I always enjoy seeing a movie that even after 2 hours of sitting makes me feel that I need to sit down and think about it. Now you get to pay Tue price of me thinking about it:

It has been a while since I have seen such an artful film. I also am not a huge fan of 3D; I tend to feel like it is being thrown in my face and is gimmicky. This was not gimmicky. The art of the scenery whether meant for 3D or not were beautiful. The story was beautifully told. It was about the beauty of life and that part of that is pain.

Like the tiger beauty is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It is a true sign of art to show us something both beautiful and fear inducing. This is what we see in ourselves. We can use our pain. It transforms us. That is the nature of beauty to resonate with the soul and cause it to swell and grow. Truth is contained within it and the truth is terrible. It makes us cringe. We hide from truth because while it may set us free it is an all exposing light. We see everything and we don't always want to see what was hidden. "He brought the evil out of me!" As I heard Pi scream that the tears welled up. Into the deep within the magnificence of exposing ones weakness shone onto pain and joy. Joy at life! But how painful is life! Life is growth and growth is painful. The light of truth alone can expose the weakness as strength, that to be great we must be small, to be beautiful we will be terrifying.

On this day as my brothers and sisters March for Life in our nations capital my prayers are with them. Recognizing the magnificent beauty of life but the terrifying truth of what it ,means to fight for it. No news will recognize you. You will be treated as monsters. But remain beautiful and terrifying and most importantly love the ones who will hate you for it. Because only that kind of truth can inspire loving honest dialog.

There are foolish reactive people on both sides of such arguments that would tear at each other until there is nothing left just as there are good people. We are the ones who refuse to look beauty in its fierce eyes. It is Like a flame, that hot harsh nurturing thing that we dare not touch but desperately need in darkness. An issue such as this is one that requires love in the resolution. I have no doubt of the love that exists on both sides of an argument and thus I have no doubt in the goodness of the men and women of both sides. Only by being truthful, beautiful, and terrifying can we all be carried through such storms. The tiger will keep us alive

Zombie Survival Plans and Our Declining Opinions of Each Other.

In the aftermath of another failed apocalypse and the current pop culture popularity of all things undead I have come to the conclusion that we do not quite like each other as one would hope. The Bad Catholic seemed to be thinking the same thing as I was around the same time because he recently posted on the same topic but a different perspective. I suggest reading his piece concerning Zombies and the end times. Don’t worry, I’ll wait here.

My thoughts towards the zombie apocalypse tend to focus on the same subject matter as what keeps me watching The Walking Dead: the people involved.

You can’t walk onto a high school or college campus without bumping into a male adolescent who has thought through every minute detail of his plan to survive the zombie hordes. (Never mind he still hasn't done his math homework.) I won’t lie I have several plans adaptable for various scenarios and climates. It was this realization that led me to my previously mentioned conclusion: we want to see each other as expendable when the going gets rough.

At the core of every zombie survival plan rests the not too often talked about truth: we would kill to survive and not just kill but kill the walking visage of our own friends and families. Sure they are just the reanimated corpses of our once loved ones but that is exactly what I want to drive at. Are we so willing to view our fellow man as fodder for our baseball bat/shotguns and chainsaw arms? I dare say it would not take long for us to lose our humanity in such a world. 

Ruminating further on the idea of zombie survival and the mental energy put into forming such plans leads me to wonder why we are so eager to view our world in such a way.  My theory: because it is easy.

It is far easier to think of ourselves when the fecal matter hits the rotating blades positioned to move air forward. I would say that those zombie plans are the result of our own existential laziness. Transcend the idea for a moment that we are not a solitary being but a part of some greater whole. How easy is it now to imagine the shambling horde comprised of our dearest friends? When a part of the whole is sick we are not called to turn from it and think only of ourselves. It is not the easy path to reach out to a broken part of the whole to fix it. 

As members of the Body of Christ we are called to view our brothers and sisters as just that, our brothers and sisters, we should not be so eager to imagine the shambling horde of expendable meat sacks ripe for bludgeoning, as obstacles to our survival. I seem to think that the best hope for survival in a zombie scenario would be selflessness. Sure that may be the death of us all but at least we would go out as humans with dignity, not just another lifeless face in a horde of selfishness.