The Bosom of Abraham

Legislative Defense of Religious Freedom and Human Dignity

2011-10-13T15:54:00.000-05:00

Our state government is working on righting past wrongs by amending a 2010 law, which requires school districts across the state to teach sexual education in 'comprehensive' fashion--which is to say according to current popular culture standards. As a limited government conservative such authoritative legislating is repugnant, but as a Catholic it is utterly unacceptable. A handful of progressive elites in Madison think they know better than the Catholic Church about the truth of the human person? Fine. But telling us what to teach and writing it into law? No way.

I sent this letter to my representatives, whom I trust will stand with freedom and the dignity of the person on this issue. Please contact your representatives as well!

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Dear Senator Harsdorf, Representative Severson and staff,

I write to you with a significant request as a concerned constituent:

In 2010, Wisconsin enacted the “Healthy Youth Act” (HYA), which requires that if a school district chooses to provide pupils with human growth and development instruction it must instruct them using “comprehensive sex education.” This law is both unconstitutional and tyrannical.

Since the law’s enactment, parents and advocates have been working to reform the HYA, in order to restore local control and parental involvement, while retaining the best aspects of current law. Senator Mary Lazich (R-New Berlin) is currently circulating a bill draft for co-sponsorship (LRB-2088/P3), dubbed the “Strong Communities…Healthy Kids Act” (SCHKA).

As a Catholic, I cannot in good conscious support a government that would tell my Church that it (the government) knows the truth about sexuality and my church does not. Further as a law, the government would use the force of law to make my church's schools teach against its ancient and consistently held beliefs about the human person. If progressive elites want to think they can rewrite the nature of the person and our sexuality, I pity them. But, if they are bent on writing their flawed and destructive vision into law, I will resist them and I beg that as our senator you do the same!

I heartily commend to you that, in the name of freedom and the dignity of the human person, you support Senator Lazich's drafted bill to ensure that the wrongs written into law last year be amended!

Thank you for your attention in this matter,

Chris and Stephanie Hurtubise
Balsam Lake, WI

"A Personal Odyssey"

2011-05-23T10:44:00.000-05:00

Through a stroke of luck I ordered a couple of Thomas Sowell books that I'd never heard of through our great library system last Wednesday. The books came in on Friday and I was able to spend a decent chunk of time during the rainy weekend reading through Sowell's autobiography, A Personal Odyssey.

It was a fabulous read: witty, profoundly insightful, and delightfully written. Both Friday and Saturday nights I had a hard time putting it down and stayed up far later than I ought to have devouring the anecdotes and vignettes.

Sowell was born into poverty living first in Charlotte, N.C., but moving to Harlem at the age of nine. His story of overcoming great odds, by using his God-given gift of discerning intellect was truly an inspiration.

Needless to say, Sowell is not a saint: his integrity sometimes felt a lot more like stubbornness. But nevertheless, his odyssey from abandonment as a 17 year old on his own in NYC to being a senior fellow at the top ranked think tank in the country is indeed a striking one.

For any of you who are fans of his other works, I highly recommend this delightful book!

Also, the most recent edition of National Review's interview series "Uncommon Knowledge" with host Peter Robinson features an interview with Sowell about his most recent book, an updated edition of Economic Facts and Fallacies. Check it out! There are five portions; here is part one -- follow the links to the others.

Farm Blog

2011-04-16T00:06:00.001-05:00

As I've more or less given this blog over to posting about our adventures (and mis-adventures) in hobby-farming, I've decided to start a farm blog that Steph and I will both post on and to return this blog to it's roots and reserve it for social, political and religious commentary. I'm not sure which blog will get more attention, but that way anyone that may not care about my opinions in re culture, politics, etc. but is interested in following our progress with the farm, will be able to do so unmolested by my other views.

The new blog, which is named after our name for our farm, which is in turn named after Steph's patron, St. Mary Magdalen, may be found at http://magdalenfarm.blogspot.com. And, of course, I will provide a link on the side bar of this blog, which I will continue to consider the mother-ship of my blogging endeavors.

While I'm thinking and writing at the same time -- the chief cause of blogging's bad name... -- many thanks to all of you for your continued interest in my writing and in me. It is a great pleasure to know that there are folks out there that are interested in knowing about what we're up to, up here in the hinterlands.

A happy and blessed Holy Week to you all!

Yours truly,
Lector

Winter on the Farm

2011-03-23T00:32:00.000-05:00

Greetings bosom buddies!

I'm terribly sorry about the lengthy gap in time between farm-updates, but I'm afraid the winter here has been a little less than scintillating... We played lots of cards, watched some Psych, Foyle's War and Jeeves & Wooster; Made a few trips to the Twin Cities and to Chicago; attended a weekly class in Stillwater on G.K. Chesterton taught by none other than Dr. Loome himself -- but all in all, there has been very little to blog about until recently.

One slightly noteworthy occurrence was when a big doe spent the afternoon meandering about the barnyard a few weeks ago.

But to tell you the truth, this winter has been interminable. Indeed, 'it was cold, it was gray, and it felt like it was going to last me the rest of my life...' Perhaps we should have moved North one state at a time, experiencing slightly longer, harsher winters over the course of a few years, and finally settling into the never ending, Hoth-like madness that is winter in Northern Wisconsin. That being said, the last two weeks we finally started to see thawing and even got a few days in the lower 50's.

Over the last two weeks we had two adventures, one blissful and the other quite wretched. Let us begin with the latter, so as to end on a happier note.

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We haven't been the only ones on the farm itching to get out of doors and to soak up a little sunshine; our chicks try to flee the coop every chance they get. However, we have neither fencing nor a guardian dog in place to protect them so we've been keeping them locked up for the time being.

Last Thursday morning was too beautiful though and Stephanie gave in to temptation and let them out. She set up her computer at the kitchen window and was going to keep an eye on our little flock. After all I was going to be heading out to stack a load of wood we'd been given by a friend of Don and Arlene's (Steph's maternal grandparents) and would be relatively close at hand.

When I left the house to attend to the wood something was amiss: the chickens were making a frightful ruckus. Our barn yard is still mostly covered bulging ice, so I couldn't sprint altogether, but I ran as best I could. Stephanie screamed that there were dogs. I ran faster. I cursed that I didn't have the shotgun loaded and in my hand. I wondered what sort of carnage I was about to encounter.

As I rounded the garage and the coop came into view most of the chickens were wildly fluttering back into the relative safety of the coop. One of our prized layers, the Buff Orpingtons, was in the mouth of the attacking canine and a smaller hen lay already mortally wounded in the tall grass. There were three dogs on the scene. Two were large labs, but for whatever reason they stood back and observed rather than enter the fray--lucky for us. The third dog, presently molesting one of our most productive hen, was a smaller though rather rotund bird dog of some type. As I raced past the fleeing hens and roosters toward the assailant I drew back my mighty right leg and punted the little bastard (sorry) a good 10 feet across the yard. The blow, delivered with my steel toed boot, caused him to release the hen and he limped off into the corn field to rejoin his cowardly mates.

Steph showed up moments later (without the gun sadly) and we assessed the damage. We'd only lost one bird, though we weren't sure the Buff would make it. One rooster had cleverly escorted a handful of hens to safety on the far side of the building -- that was a relief. The surviving flock was highly agitated though, and took a number of hours to settle down.

We learned our lesson and will be babysitting the flock whenever we let them out until our safety measures are in place. We're pretty much set on getting our dog as soon as we get back from a trip to La Crosse and Chicago next weekend.

The occasion was both infuriating and vexing -- I don't know that anything in life is more mystifying than wanton and frivolous destruction of life. We would be sad if a coyote or bird of pray took one of the chickens, but at least there would be a point: hunger -- I can relate to that. But killing for killing's sake, there's a touch of the diabolical in that.

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On a far, far happier note we spent much of our free time over the last two weeks at Don and Arlene's stringing lines for their maple syrup operation.

As I've noted before, it was through their generosity (along with that of our good friend Charlie Eldredge) that the house stayed heated this winter. We must have taken a good 10 cords of wood out of their forest this past fall and winter. So, finding a small way to repay them was both warranted and welcomed!

I'd spent a good deal of time in their woods but never during the action of the sap season, so seeing it all in action was rather exciting!

I'll outline briefly how it works:

Their sugar bush (the traditional name for a syrup farm) has a total of 2,800 taps, with most trees having between 1 and 3 taps, a few having as many as 5. The number of taps depends on the size and health of the tree.

To get the sap from the trees and into their boiling shed they use a network of long plastic tubes. There are four or five permanent main lines in their forest onto which there connect dozens of smaller lines strung from tree to tree. These smaller lines have to be taken down each spring after the sap run and then strung again the following winter. This latter task was ours. After the lines are strung and hooked onto the trees, new taps have to be drilled and the taps hammered into the tree. There were a few teams of volunteers there on Saturday getting this done too.

Most of the lines work just on gravity, thanks to the hilly layout of the sugar bush, but there are vacuums in some places to help out as well as on the main lines to get the sap up to the shed.

Each of the four days that we worked, Arlene spent the morning rinsing the tubes out one last time and then heating them so that they could stretch the necessary distance between the trees. Stretching is key as it keeps the lines straight and allows gravity to do its part. In total, Don and Arlene must have at least a hundred lines, which Arlene keeps organized with masterful detail.

Arlene and I Planning Our Morning Route

Generally we would show up around 10am so it was warm enough to string, get our snow gear on and figure out a game plan. Then we'd load up the snowmobile and sled and head out into the woods. Three of the four days a really nice neighbor named Reed was there helping out too, so we were able to have two teams stringing at the same time to speed up the process: Steph and I and Don and Reed. If the lines get too cold they don't stretch and end up breaking repeatedly, so we could only take a handful of lines out at a time, which meant lots of fun trips in the snowmobile.

Starting a new line

The stringing always got easier as the temperature went up and the sun got stronger. And by the end of the fourth day (last Saturday) we were rather adroit at putting just enough pressure on to get the requisite stretch without breaking anything. For mending purposes Steph got to carry a Power Puff Girls backpack with snips, a blow torch, extra tubing, tube connectors, and other odds and ends . Sadly, I didn't get a picture of the cool backpack, Steph somehow eluded the camera whenever wearing it...

A 'one tapper' at the end of a line

I'd driven Don and Arlene's snowmobile once before, and apparently that was a full enough resume to appointed the chief snowmobile driver for the week. The snowmobile seats two, and then there's a place for one person to stand on the back of the slay. So we'd whip around the woods, me driving and experiencing a welcome surge in testosterone, Steph holding on tight to me and navigating us through the winding forest paths, and Don standing on the back of the slay like a Nordic god, letting out youthful cries of delighted excitement. The one time all four of us rode back in together, Reed got to ride in the sled with the blankets that we used to keep the tubing warm.

Assembling another load of warm tubing

Ready to head back into the woods

One of the fun parts of the line stringing was getting to hang out with Don and Arlene's awesome dog Buster. Bust is a big goofy mutt that is unwaveringly loyal and loves running through the woods. Whenever we'd drive out to the woods or back in for more lines or for lunch Buster would race the snowmobile and usually win.

Buster atop his snowy perch

The best part of stringing though was getting to spend lots of quality time with Don and Arlene. Each day Arlene made a big old fashioned lunch that we all sat down to together. There was much conversation about spring and summer; about the garden and berry picking and small town festivals; about ice cream and day trips to specialty shops.

We are both delighted to have great jobs working from home, but the long winter has proven to be a bit monotonous and the change of pace and the wonderful company was welcomed, nay, treasured.

Fr. Benedict Groeschel's Lenten Messages

2011-03-14T12:23:00.002-05:00

I've been enjoying these short Lenten messages by Fr. Benedict Groeschel over the last 5 days or so, and thought I'd pass them along.

Meditation 2

2011-03-12T16:28:00.002-06:00

My second Lenten meditation is up over at the Smoldering Wick. Check it out!

Lenten Meditations

2011-03-09T14:51:00.000-06:00

Greetings Bosom Buddies,

Throughout Lent I'm going to be writing a series of meditations over at my other blog. Please stop by and check it out! A blessed Ash Wednesday to you all!

Two Cups on my Table

2011-03-04T12:08:00.000-06:00

Greetings friends! My apologies for the lack of updates as of late, I've been having to save all my writing faculties for work. Rest assured though that something will be forthcoming--perhaps during the reported 10-16 inches of snow we're supposed to get early next week.

For now, I would happily point you in the direction of my darling wife's blog, Two Cups on My Table. She recently put a post up about some of our recent adventures in poultry raising. Suffice it to say, we have eggs! But not without some cost to the hens...

Fantasy Baseball Season!

2011-02-15T11:11:00.000-06:00

It's that time of the year, when my 'dale pals and I each tell ourselves that maybe we won't play fantasy baseball this year: "I've got so much going on, maybe this is the year to hang 'em up..." or "My wife is going to kill me if I spend as much time researching mediocre pitchers for spot starts in mid-July..." or "Maybe I should find something better to do with my time this year..."

But in the end, we know we can't resist and tell ourselves, "Well, maybe just one more year... After all, it's a great way to keep in touch with the guys throughout the thrilling summer months and the long season of that greatest of sports: baseball!"

A Smoldering Wick He shall Not Quench

2011-02-02T22:12:00.000-06:00

I just started a website for meditations and talks at our parish. Please check it out!

Meditation

2011-01-31T11:11:00.000-06:00

My good buddy Andy asked me to do another guest post for the "Theology Corner" on his blog. The post is more or less the text for a meditation on the universal call to holiness that I'd given last Wednesday night at our parish. You can check it out here.

Prayer Request

2011-01-31T11:07:00.001-06:00

A very kind and dedicated gentleman that I interviewed for an article earlier this month was in a very terrible accident last week. He was riding his bicycle to work and was hit by a pickup truck; he sustained a number of very serious injuries. I believe he has already undergone a number of operations and will certainly be headed to rehabilitation after he gets out of the hospital. He is a school teacher and longtime RCIA teacher, and his name is Martin. Thank you for your prayers!

Feline Fiends, er, Friends

2011-01-17T18:09:00.000-06:00

One of the necessities of farm life, unless you have a pension for emptying mouse traps, is keeping a few good mousers around.

While Stephanie's parents still ruled this roost, a few fine barn cats showed up and never left: Sophie, an all black cat with a stereotypically haughty feline personality and Isabelle, a sweet, gentle, deaf, tawny colored cat with a crooked neck. Izzy disappeared in the late fall--perhaps to another home, more probably to the greedy talons of an eagle or the hungry fangs of a fox. Meanwhile, Sophie, on account of my wife's gentle heart and inexplicable love for cats, has been spending these cold winter days fattening up in our basement.

Sophie developed a pretty bad case of worms as of late and has been leaving little, wormy evidences all over the basement for the past few weeks. Predictably, she mostly left them in the chair that I like to sit in while I'm stoking the fire. On account of this unpleasant ailment, I've recently renamed her Grima Wormbutt. She seems to have taken to it well. It may be a harsh nickname, but it is no doubt appropriate. Sophie represents everything that cat-haters hate about cats. Deceitful, cunning, willful, bold, stubborn, snarly.

Grima

Grima, however, is not the only feline in the house. She is counterbalanced nicely by our housemates' charming and calf-sized cat, Johnny Cash. Johnny, as he commonly goes by, is a particularly large breed of house cat--I've been corrected, the largest breed of house cat. He is also more dog-like than any cat I've ever known, which is probably why we get along alright. My brother-in-law Kevin, when here for a visit at Thanksgiving, quickly fell for Johnny and nick-named him Golden Boy. The name has stuck with us.

Golden Boy

Golden Boy and Grima have a love-hate relationship. Grima, a typical feline, is aloof and disdainful of GB's amicable entreaties. His visits requited with hisses, not kisses. Having always been an indoor cat, GB was declawed; consequently he compensates for his lack of acerbity with extraordinary zeal in his frequent battles with Grima. He is also much bigger than her, so when he bats her with his judo-chop action, there is a disproportionate amount of weight behind the fast-action blows.

I have learned in recent years that I am somewhat allergic to cats (and perhaps dogs), so we try to keep the two of them out of the public spaces as much as possible. We've more or less trained Golden Boy not to come past the kitchen door, but Grima is a hopeless rebel. She'd rather make us get up and spray her with the water bottle than retreat from our threats--yeah, she's that sort of creature.

As of late we've discovered that Golden Boy has a new lair. He's taken to climbing on top of the crafting table ("Craft World") and leaping onto the shelf just below the ceiling, where he snoozes in a basket filled with fabric remnants. I suppose his real impetus for staking his new claim was to have a higher roost that Grima, whose perch is only about four feet off the ground and lies easily under Golden Boy's watchful eye.

GB's Kingly Perch

In this moment of rare reflection, I suppose that I'm glad to have the cats' company most of the time. That being said, I will be glad when animal companionship comes in the form of a dog.

ET VERBUM CARO FACTUM EST!

2010-12-31T10:00:00.002-06:00

Merry Christmas, dear friends!

"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw his glory,

the glory as of the Father's only Son, full of grace and truth."

During the Christmas season, I highly recommend meditatively listening to Franz Biebl's Ave Maria about 10 times in a row. The piece is filled with the words of Sacred Scripture that account the Annunciation and the Incarnation of our Lord.

Winter Fun in the Frozen Tundra

2010-12-13T15:25:00.001-06:00

You know, the irony of it all is that when I moved to Dallas I felt like I was moving somewhere kind of 'out there', but this is truly a strange planet that I've landed on, here in northwest Wisconsin. I know that it's kind of cliche, but you wonder what on earth settlers were thinking. Take today for example: it's December 13th, so naturally it should be a bit chilly -- after all, we are within 8 days of winter technically beginning -- but the high is 5, and the low is -14... That's just ridiculous! I know the three seasons not called winter are amazing up here, but still! 5/-14 is no way to live!

Sunday morning we got up early to assess the damage from the blizzard that hit us on Saturday and to try to get things cleared off enough so that we could make it to Mass. We had 2-3 foot snow drifts across the upper part of the driveway all the way to the garage, but luckily the bottom half of the drive had been blown clean by the 30-40 mph winds. As we hurriedly shoveled a slender path for the snow panther to slink through, the temperature hovered around 0, with a gentle breeze providing for a wind chill of -10 or so. Needless to say, my glasses were quickly covered with fog, and then frost. I took them off and put them in my pocket. Big mistake.

"He gone!"

Crestfallen, despondent, dispirited, and inconsolable, I lamented the passing of my faithful companion. I had loved these glasses. Luckily, we'd taken an old pair from my parents this summer and I wasn't left totally in the dark -- though it would have been nice to be half-blind from 3:15 to 6:15 p.m. while the Bears were getting destroyed yesterday afternoon...

The experience of shattered plastic made me wonder though, how do people with glasses deal with it on Hoth? Then again, do people where glasses in that far-away galaxy? I know they wear protective eye-wear, but corrective eye-wear? Not sure. I'll leave that one up to you experts out there.

Nevertheless, it is amazing how Hoth-like it is here. The snow drifts truly look glacial, and at night it is certainly cold enough to freeze a tauntaun. That's why Steph and I are getting each other these for Christmas:

Mike Fontenot in a Tauntaun Bag.

Chicago Weekend Away

2010-12-11T11:31:00.006-06:00

Two Fridays ago now, we made the seven hour trip down to Chicago for Emily and Doug's wedding. The weekend was great fun; here are a few highlights:

During our drive down on Friday, we learned the sad news that Chicago Cubs legend Ron Santo had passed away. Ronnie was a first class third base man in his day, winning a few gold gloves and getting perennial all star calls. He began broadcasting in the mid-nineties, and spent, I believe, fifteen years with Pat Hughes. Pat and Ron had an amazing chemistry. There are clips all over the internet but Here is one of my favorites. Here is Pat Hughes' lovely eulogy from the funeral. Pat shares some of the best stories from the booth over the years. Ronnie will definitely be missed -- it will be a totally different broadcast without the old boy. He brought an unrivaled passion to the booth. Rest in Peace, Ronnie!

Friday afternoon I did an interview and a bit of work, before we headed out to the rehearsal at Flossmoor Community Church. We came in for the rehearsal because, much to my honor and delight, Em and Doug asked me to do a reading at the wedding. After a few practice runs, we headed to Lorenzetti's over in the Heights, where the Stojak family put on a beautiful dinner -- delicious lasagna, hmmm... Following the feast, we went home to watch the most recent episode of Psych with my parents, since my hip dad DVR'ed it for us!

The wedding wasn't until late Saturday afternoon, so I had time to sleep in in the morning and knock out a quick article on the Knights of Columbus for, as it happens, a Chicago parish.

The dignity of my lectoring duty that evening required a certain dignity of dress: enter the bow tie!

Cousin Sarah, who blew all our socks off with a fabulous toast, was well pleased with the Noter Dame colors on my bow tie. I had hopes that at least cousin Sean would also be rockin' the bow tie, but to no avail. I alone donned that gay apparel, as the Christmas song has it.

It was a great wedding: always fun to be with the whole fam. all gussied up. We hadn't seen my cousins Sean and Beth in a long time so it was fun to get to sit next to them at dinner.

Sunday we went to an early Mass at IJP and then over to Jer and Cath's for a tasty breakfast; it was a very fun little visit. Everyone was still pretty pooped from the late night, but we had a blast. The party was very interested to hear about our adventures up here at the farm -- especially Grandma and Grandpa Esposito -- so we brought our laptop and ran a few slideshows of pictures. It was great.

Our Captive Audience

Then we watched some of the Bears game with Jerome and headed home. The Bears beat the Lions on more than a technicality this time, so that was nice.

Sunday evening we were privileged to be able to go to my Dad's vespers concert at the beautiful church at the Benedictine Monastery of the Holy Cross on the south side. Check out their website; they seem like a really neat group. The concert was just a vespers (Evening Prayer) service with some additional polyphony music sung by a small group from the Chicago Chorale -- of which my dad is a part. It was spellbindingly beautiful! It sometimes slips my mind how talented he is!

The Sky Was Beautiful That Night!

After the concert, we were all rather hungry so we dined at the Flossmoor Station Restaurant -- a family favorite, to be sure.

Monday morning I again did some writing, while Steph hit up an exchange at Kohl's and an oil change on the snow panther and picked up some Portillo's on her way home -- what?... Then we hit the road, happy to know we'd be seeing my side of the fam again very soon.

You can all breath easy, the chicks, thanks to our housemate Jordan, were neither cooked nor frozen upon our return home. They're even bigger than when we left. I'll get some more pictures up soon.

Chicken Run

2010-12-02T23:20:00.000-06:00

For a number of reasons, which I shall list presently, the time came to move the chickens from the brooder shed to the chicken coop.

The reasons are as follows:
1. Space -- the brooder shed had become too small for our nearly full grown chickens, who are wont to flap about and find roosting locations.
2. Warmth -- One would be tempted to think that a smaller space would stay warmer, and one would often be correct. However, the shed is free-standing, uninsulated and shaded from the South. The coop, is insulated, shares 3 walls with other parts of the building, and has four windows facing south. The windows, are courtesy of father-in-law, Mike. Thanks Mike!
3. Roosting -- the chicks will now be able to roost on the roosting rack (as I've just now dubbed it), and in their little laying cubbies (I doubt 'little laying cubbies' will pass muster with the authority on the subject).

Steph Prepping the Coop

"Little Laying Cubbies"

My Favorite Chicken in Front of "The Roosting Rack"

Still Not Quite Sure About that Rack...

A Few More Chicks Checking Out the R.R.

Chicken Ferrying -- Boy It Was Chilly Out!

So, we filled the coop with fresh sawdust and carried the birds two by two in the arc of our arms across the ocean of snow and ice. Then we retrieved their feed, water holders and other paraphernalia. They are now pretty well settled, and will be happy to have sunlight -- especially if we ever have another sunny day...

When we travel to Chicago tomorrow, we're hoping that their water heater continues to work and the electricity doesn't go out. Or we may be eating chicken next week... Sad thought, that.

Winter Sunset

Winter Sunset #2

New Link

2010-11-29T13:30:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to Abp. Timothy Dolan of New York on his recent election to the presidency of the USCCB! His blog, The Gospel in a Digital Age, is a fun, fresh and interesting read. It is such a blessing to have such a man leading the American portion of the Catholic Church. I'll put a permanent link to his blog on the side bar too.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-27T21:40:00.000-06:00

Greetings Bosom Buddies!

My apologies for the dearth in posts as of late, things have been in a period of transition here at the homestead, allow me to update:

1. We got about ten inches of snow a week and a half ago and winter preparations more or less came to a halt -- apart from wood gathering.

2. I've been recovering from the mad dash to get the garden and wood stores ready. I sustained several minor injuries to my elbows and shoulders.

3. We've been perfecting our craft at heating with wood -- there is quite an art to it. Our good friend Charlie gave us a cord or two of dried oak, so that's been burning beautifully. We try to get the fire hot and burning smoothly with the oak, and then add our not quite as dry Maple and Elm from Don and Arlene.

4. As if on cue, work slowed down for our final Fall push a few weeks ago, and is picking back up again now for the quiet winter months. What a blessing both of our jobs have been already!

5. We were overjoyed to have my parents, sister Erin, and brother-in-law Kevin (Kev-bo) came all the way up to the farm for a few days over Thanksgiving. We'll get to see them all again in a week when we go to Chicago for my cousin Emily's wedding to our good buddy Doug.

5.1 The fam was shocked to find that we were already engrossed in the cold climes of winter -- it was snowing and sleeting ("wintry mix") when they arrived, and the next morning it was around 7° when we all got up with a high of 12°. We wouldn't mind if we had a few more weeks where it got up into the upper 30's or 40's before the real cold is here to stay.

Kevin, Erin, Steph and I out in the snow

6. We are stoked that Advent is here and we are in the Northland. Stephanie made our Advent wreath today and Charlie is starting an Advent series on the book of Genesis. In preparation, I am finishing a wonderful book by Pope Benedict on the first few chapters that has been very fascinating and informative.

The Good Ol' Days

2010-11-17T15:46:00.000-06:00

Today I was making sure I was spelling Bismarck correctly for an article about a North Dakota parish and I stumbled upon this song about the British sinking of the Nazi Battleship the "Bismarck". One line goes, "We've got to sink the Bismarck, 'cause the world depends on us!" Can you imagine Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber singing a song about our need to stamp out the terrorists in Afghanistan?

Sorry, try not to imagine such a thing...

The Compost Bin and a Special Guest

2010-11-13T12:12:00.003-06:00

This week I had one article to write, three weeks ago I had thirteen. So, needless to say I've had some free time to work on farm-related projects. Thursday and Friday were spent building our 10'x5' compost bin.

As with our wood racks, the finely tuned architectural plans for the composting bins utilized materials we had on hand: pallets, large posts, and cedar planks.

As with our garden, the site for the compost bin looked something like this:

Future Site of the Bin

I mowed the site coarsely and then went over it again to scalp it. While I have your attention I'll tell you about our push-mower. A unique feature to this particular mower is a large window on one side where (presumably) there once was a plastic piece to direct grass into a bag or to flap closed for mulching purposes; or perhaps there was simply a guide that shot the missile lawn debris out the side with some general guidance. Regardless of its original makeup, as it stands now, the window allows for anarchy when mowing large amounts of brush or tall grass. So these sorts of projects are a bit interesting.

Mowed Compost Site

Having scalped the weedy grass, I proceeded to hoe the area so that nothing was tempted to grow back, then later on (no photos, sorry) I tilled it all with a shovel to give our compost heap a nice bed of turned black dirt to work with.

Hoed Compost Site

Once the area was prepped and leveled, I dug 30" deep post holes and set the posts with gravel and dirt, tamping in the fill with a 2x4 and sledge hammer (thanks for the tip, Mike!).

Post #1

Once the posts were in and secured, I cut 4'x10' pallets to fit the gaps and attached cedar deck boards with which I could screw the walls into the posts.

South Wall

Then all that was left was to cut the post tops level with the pallets, screw a small pallet as a divider between our two bins and transfer the old compost into our sturdy and handsome new compost bin!

Competed Bin from Front (South)

Completed Bin from Side (East)

The other news this week was that we got to dog-sit an old black lab for our good friends Charlie and Marion. "Mandy" is a very docile and good natured pup and we were very happy to spend a few days with her!

"Mandy" on the Kitchen Floor

No agrarian update would be complete without a mention of the weather: I took the pictures of the compost bin construction yesterday and the day before, during which it was 45 and 65 degrees respectively. When we woke up this morning it was 30, there were 2 or 3 inches of snow on the ground, and there was no sign of it letting up! There are now about 4 inches and it appears to be done for the moment, though the forecast calls for more snow over the next few days!

Fresh snow covers the lawn, trees, arbor
and our car -- the "Snow Panther"

Last, but certainly not most least, today is my beloved wife's birthday! Please join me in wishing her a blessed year! Happy birthday, Stephanie! May God bless you abundantly this year, and may He be praised for the innumerable blessings He showered on you in previous years!

Agrarian Update 4.0 -- Heavy Wooden Objects

2010-11-09T19:22:00.000-06:00

The theme of this update, as the subtitle would indicate, is our procurance and use of heavy wooden objects for a couple of projects around the farm.

As may have been mentioned earlier -- note the tone of ambiguity I've created by using the passive voice there: 'mentioned by whom?' 'here at the blog?' 'or in the news?' 'what's he talking about!?!?' As I was saying, as may have been mentioned earlier, we'll be heating strictly with wood this winter. This means we'll be needing a handsome amount of wood by the time spring rolls in -- at which point we'll still be burning wood, to be sure.

As I was saying, we'll be needing lots of wood. Now, in previous years, Mike and Sue stacked a great deal of their timber along the garden fence, which most people, myself included, thought looked quite lovely. However, thanks to the inspiration of Grandpa Don's three or four year supply of wood -- a colossal amount, indeed -- we decided to try to get ahead in the wood game by building several permanent wood-drying racks. These also were inspired by Grandpa Don's design (and are filled with wood from Grandpa Don and Grandma Arlene's maple syrup farm -- aka a "Sugar Bush").

The construction is quite simple and the materials are quite cheap, which is to say they're free if you're lucky.

Let us start with the materials. You want to start with an old, long wood pallet. Often times, as is in our case, old farms will have pallets lying about from who knows what. Often times, as is also true in our case, they will be missing a few boards. However, scrap wood generally abounds in old farms too, so just cut a few pieces to length and hammer them in.

Our salvaged pallet before getting new planks.

Next you'll want to get the pallet into position and get it leveled with some blocks of 2x4 or other wood you have lying about. Then you can resume your scavenger hunt in search of two small pallets. Having found these, which will be your book ends, you'll want to find some enormous and very heavy pieces of iron with which you can anchor your small pallets. Having found these sundries sink the iron pipes (or whatever you can get ahold of) several feet into the ground and pin the pallets in place. We also chose to screw the pallets together and went so far as to screw a bracing piece across the top as an additional safety feature -- again, our impetus being lasting use.

Half Loaded Wood Rack

Fully Loaded Wood Rack

The key to drying wood we've learned, again from Grandpa Don, who has become our tutor in things agrarian, is keeping it free from precipitation on top, and open to the wind on the sides. You also want to stack it with the grain-face open to the wind.

So far we've built two racks, and are all set to put a third together tomorrow. There is room for five total along side the garage, since I cleared the weeds and tall grass most of the way back to the corn field. We'll most likely get all five built and stacked in the next week or two thanks to our beneficent wood providers.

Our other big project in the coming weeks is getting our garden posts sunk in the ground. A friend of a friend that works at the electric company gave Mike and Sue a tip that you can go get 8-10' lengths of old electricity/phone poles for free. So yesterday morning while our laundry was washing at the laundromat we went down to Polk/Burnett county utility headquarters and got a dozen poles. It was a typical country experience: tip about something free from a friend of a friend, everyone was super friendly and helpful, somebody helped us get them loaded up in our truck and they told us to come back whenever we needed more.

However, getting them out when we got home, without a forklift, and without another guy to help me was the trick. They more or less max-ed my poor bride, so we pulled the truck over to where we wanted each set and dropped them. Its kind of interesting, they still have a lot of the utility company's stuff on them. So, if you want any enormous steel screws and mysterious electrical line stuff, feel free to stop by.

Two of Our Longer Poles

Unidentified Metal Gadgetry

Why, you might be wondering, would youwant to use such enormous poles for a garden fence? I suppose one answer is the reason given above for building the wood racks -- lasting durability. However, another answer is that they were free, and it's going to be awesome! That being said, I haven't actually dug any of the holes, or sunk any of the poles. Feel free to check beck and taunt me when my back is folded over from the toil.

We continue to be amazed at the transformation that our life has undergone since this summer. Just this June we were living in Big D working two office jobs and waiting for someone to hire me to move on. But here we are, hauling pallets and phone poles and digging and chopping and tilling and raking and forking and generally having a ball. We feel abundantly blessed that God has opened the doors (and closed others) to get us here. Sometimes we'll be driving down the road to get firewood or messing with something in the garden or playing ping pong in the living room and just stop and realize where we are and what sort of life we're living -- at least for the time being -- and just say, 'whoa'.

While I'm at it, waxing personal and writing the sort of blog post that generally gives blog posts a bad name, I would like to thank you for reading these long-winded monologues. It means a lot to me (us) to know that people want to stay connected -- especially since, in a lot of ways we're isolated out here, with friends and family scattered from Oregon to Alabama and Phoenix to NY. Thank you and God bless!

Late Evening Pics

2010-11-04T21:29:00.000-05:00

Last night it was abnormally warm out so we worked in the garden late into the evening. Steph started pulling up the massive asparagus crowns so we can split them and have tons of asparagus next year. I tore down the decrepit old compost bin and cut the sod off the few remaining 'hills' in the garden and pulled them down. Tomorrow, if the tendonitis in my elbow dies down, I'll get the mound of compost moved over to the site of our future compost bins.

The real purpose of this small post was to put up a few nice pictures that we took yesterday after the sun set. Enjoy:

Asparagus Crown

Farmer Stephanie, Asparagus Crown, Cat

Geographical Lament

2010-11-01T13:12:00.000-05:00

I suppose there is no geographically perfect location in the world, but if there were, here are a few certain characteristics:

--It would start with our beloved little farm -- the garden tilling is going very well, by the way
--It would be in close proximity to our family and friends (scattered as they are in dozens of states around the country)
--It would be close enough to UD that we could drive to Cistercian this evening to celebrate All Saints Day and hear the collegium sing the Requiem

Agrarian Update 3.0

2010-10-31T12:44:00.000-05:00

Greetings again, Bosom Buddies!

My apologies for largish gap between posts -- time seems to have a way of slipping past me. Life has been quite busy, which is somewhat surprising given the slow pace and simplicity of our existence here on the farm.

Before I get to things agrarian... Work has been going very well for me. I'm really enjoying my job and have been more or less filling my days (and some evenings) trying to keep up. Last week I had 13 articles due, along with five the previous Thursday and Friday. This week I only have a handful, so it looks as though things will be a bit inconsistent.

I was able to write several articles on different parish's Catholics Come Home ministries, which are part of a nationwide effort spearheaded by the USCCB (US Conference of Catholic Bishops). In researching these pieces a bit I was led to the Church's Catholicscomehome.org website. It's an amazing resource for myriad reasons. The Church will be sponsoring really powerful commercials throughout the Advent and Christmas season during prime-time television, but the commercials also play at the website. Check it out!

The interviewing portion of my job, though stressful because sometimes its impossible to get ahold of folks, is often a huge blessing. I get to talk with people who are totally on fire for their faith and who are truly giving themselves to Christ through the ministry in and through the Church.

Steph's job has been going well too; its very similar to her work when she was in the office, but tends to have a much more laid back feel. Also, we were blessed again when they asked if she could stay on indefinitely. As a contract employee she will be able to take more time off whenever she needs to -- giving notice ahead of time of course -- which will be very handy as different seasons will require a lot of our time being spent on things Agrarian. Which leads me to the last portion of this update.

Things on the farm are hastening toward winter. We had our first big adventure one night last week when the power went off during a particularly nasty storm. It was raining, the temperature was hovering between 35 and 40, and the wind was gusting up to 50mph. Our chicks, which are still working on getting fully feathered-out (as they say), rely on heating lamps to stay warm; so, we braved the ridiculously awful elements and ventured out to bring the chicks into the basement for the night. As we crossed the barnyard, we realized that the tarps covering the tops of our wood stacks were loose and flapping violently in the wind. Taking note of the tarps, we ventured to the brooder shed and collected our terrified flock. We carried the chicks to safety in a large plastic tub, each keeping one hand on the tub and the other on a mat we had draped over the top -- leaving our faces exposed to be pelted by the machine gun fire of the freezing rain.

The chicks safely inside we tackled the tarps, securing them with sundry heavy objects from the closest buildings: a tire, a small pallet, and a shovel -- this last, my own contribution, we drove into the ground at the base of our stack so as to pin the tarp on the southwest wall, the side that was getting drenched with rain.

Our Adolescent Chickens

With all of our emergency duties performed, we lit some candles, stoked the fire into a mighty blaze, crawled into bed, blew out the candles (always a good idea, Sue), and promptly fell asleep; it was then between 8:30 and 9:00p.m.

Happily we awoke to restored power around midnight -- reassured that we'd be able to 'go to work' in the morning, which is to say log-in at our home offices. Speaking of which, Stephanie has now moved her office three times. She started in the addition, but that was quickly left behind for a warmer spot when it started getting chillier, the logical warm spot was in the crafting area (a.k.a. "Craft World) by the furnace in the basement, this week she abandoned Craft World for the kitchen, where she could dehydrate bananas and make gluten-free bread doughs in her spare time during the work day. While we're on the subject, I've been something of a nomad as well. With my office suffering from its distant proximity to a heat-vent, I've more or less followed my bride around the house -- I've always done better with a study buddy.

This week we hope to finally get the garden tilled, having had to put it off last week due to the rain. We cleared it from the wasteland it had grown into with repeat mowings and lots of raking and we also got the asparagus and rhubarb end weeded and manually tilled already; we're ready to split asparagus when its time in a few weeks.

Before

At Present

In a previous life of this garden, there were pea gravel paths down its middle both length-wise and breadth-wise; we're thinking about leaving the long one down the middle, since removing it would be a colossal pain, but we've already taken up most of the shorter width patch.

In other news, Stephanie learned that the root of the nasty, invasive burdock weed is actually quite good for you so she collected a bunch of the them as we cleared the garden and dried them to include in her homemade herbal tea blend.

Drying Burdock Root -- yum!

In still other news, we attended a diocesan conference over in Rice Lake yesterday (really more of a training session, I suppose), to become sponsor couples for engaged couples in our parish and sister parish in Amery. It was a wonderful day of learning about FOCCUS, which is the survey that most parishes around the country have engaged couples take to spark conversation about important things like finances, child-reading, social-life, etc that they probably haven't thought of. The gentleman that led the 5 hour conference was Jeff Heinzen of the diocese of La Crosse; coincidentally I'd spoken with him last spring about finding a job working for the diocese of La Crosse. Jeff did a wonderful job, and, though we're new here, it would appear that our diocese is blessed to have La Crosse close by. We also met a number of new people and shared a table with a great new priest, who had very similar literary and musical interests, so our conversation was most enjoyable.

Finally, we're heading back to Rice Lake tomorrow to get our Wisconsin licenses and plates. This will allow for two very important other things to take place: 1. Voting on Tuesday and 2. Buying our pick-up truck! To be sure there will be a number of pictures of the truck when it finally arrives at the farm!

Agrarian Update 2

2010-10-12T15:36:00.001-05:00

The past few days have been busy here on the old farmstead!

Saturday I gave the lawn another mow. I can't believe that its been so warm here -- mid 70's everyday for 10 days now. I couldn't get the riding mower to start, so I mowed with the push mower again. I'm sure that sounds tedious for such a huge amount of lawn, but I really enjoy pushing so it was a pleasure.

Before I could do the front lawn, however, I had to rake it -- that was tedious. I'm hoping to secure my old "Barracuda" leaf blower/sucker/mulcher when we go to Chicago this weekend. This will help not only with controlling the leafs, but also with composting as I'll be able to suck the leafs up and mulch them, which helps expedite the composting process. The chopped up leaves also provides for a more homogenous mulch when the composting is done. (I need to build a new set of compost bins very soon too.)

In the evening I cleared an area between some large pines next to the house for stacking wood for winter. This was the first project that I'd done that wasn't merely cosmetic, so it felt good to get that done.

Sunday we observed a true day of rest -- our first in many weeks. It was glorious and rejuvenating.

Yesterday, Monday, we had Mike and Sue down for breakfast then we all piled in the van and pulled the trailer down to Grandpa Don and Grandma Arlene's house to pick up our first installment of wood for the winter. We loaded the trailer for our house and the van for Mike and Sue's. We ended up with a cord or so (4'x4'x8'), we'll need a good ten cords or so to make it through the winter, so we have much more to get still.

1/10th of our winter supply

After we got the trailer unloaded and the wood stacked, Mike gave me a refresher course on using a chain saw, and we trimmed a few trees. There is a lot more tree trimming to do as well as brush clearing -- but its a bit of hobby for me, so I'm looking forward to it.

While I did a spot of writing that evening, Steph started weeding what will be our vegetable garden next year. Then I came out and blasted the heck out an old door that's become a favorite item for target practice. The dogs (who killed all of Sue's last few flocks) will be back as soon as our chicks are outside -- and I'll be ready for them!

"Target Practice"

Today (Tuesday) we started a new routine of getting outside by 8am to get two hours of farm work in before we both start our paying jobs at 10am. This morning we started prepping for our spring piglets. Their pen was totally overgrown with grass and weeds, so we hacked our way through it, clearing a swath big enough to rebuild the fence and the paved area abutting the entrance to their building.

Our chicks are doing well, enjoying having a bit more room to flap their wings and run about. This morning when I checked on them, one was standing on top of the water bottle -- and they say chickens can't fly...

Agrarian Update 1

2010-10-07T15:57:00.000-05:00

Greetings, Lector!

This week things have really started to settle in. We're mostly moved in, just haven't painted yet, or finished getting our stuff out of the barn. Also, Steph started working from home on Tuesday, which has helped me to work a lot more effectively from home as well (I started last week)!

At 10am we both go to our offices and work for about 6 hours, with me taking a break to make us lunch, check in on the chicks and walk down to the road to pick up the mail.

I've gotten a few articles written and settled into a pretty good process for managing several articles at once.

One thing that's been nice about my job that I'd not foreseen is that I get to chat with really nice older ladies all around the country that are excited about being 'interviewed' for a 'publication'. Often times they take it really seriously and give me really great detail -- which makes the writing process a lot easier. For example, today I spoke with an older gal from rural Iowa about her funeral luncheon ministry, and got to learn about the process -- which she's participated in since 1974 ("Yeah, I'm that old," she said. To which I responded, "That's really neat that you've been doing this that whole time!"). Needless to say, its something she knows pretty well.

As I learn more and more about various ministries that go on in an average parish, I'm realizing how much I take for granted because there is a host of people behind the scenes taking ownership and meeting the needs of the parish community. Its an inspiration to me to figure out better what I have to offer and get involved.

In our agrarian news, due to a recent warm spell in NW Wisconsin, we've moved the chicks out from the basement to the "brooder shed", where they'd have been all along if we'd gotten them in the summer. They're penned into a smallish area so that we can heat it effectively enough for them until they finish growing their feathers -- they're still mostly just fuzzy, which is to say, really cute. Its nice to get to see them in their intended accommodations.

The other big news is that today's the big day for our trip down to St. Croix Falls to go grocery shopping and pick up some tools at Menards! Woo hoo!

I snapped a few pictures of the beautiful Maple trees here as well as some of the brooder shed and the chicks. The last picture is from a beautiful evening up on Mike and Sue's balcony overlooking what they insist on calling "the pond" in Grantsburg, WI.

+ + +

This passage has been on my mind and heart today, so I thought I'd share:

“For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance." (Romans 8: 24 – 25)

The falling leaves...

2010-10-01T14:53:00.000-05:00

...drift by my window; the falling leaves of red and gold.

The trees welcomed us last week with resplendent foliage, and the air, perfumed with nostalgia for autumns past, whispers of old winter's song. I can't think of a happier situation to welcome us, than this true taste of the glory of the seasons turning from Summer to Autumn.

We left Chicago and the Hurtubise side of our family two Mondays ago now. But events have conspired to keep us from getting settled yet. By mid next week I think most things will be in place and we'll start to feel a sense of 'home' more strongly.

Last Friday morning, we went up to beautiful Isle, Minnesota for the my brother-in-law Caleb's wedding. A small town of less than a thousand permanent residents, Isle is happily situated on the Southeast corner of the quite large Lake Mille Lacs (pronounces Mill-lax, with the accent on the second syllable). A good hour North of the farm, the foliage had already turned a goodly bit more than down here in Balsam Lake, which made for gorgeous drives on Friday and Sunday.

The wedding was in a lovely old Lutheran church in Isle, and the reception was outdoors in a huge tent on the family's land. A wonderful time was had by all, and I was greatly honored to be a part of so happy a marriage as a groomsmen.

This week, having returned Sunday from Isle, we've been able to get a few of our rooms mostly set up. But are still waiting to get a few things out of the house before our layout can start taking on its final shape.

The big news of the week came today. This morning Steph got up early and took a phone call from the post office announcing the arrival of our chicks. She woke me up to tell me the news, so I got out of bed, a bit delirious still from my evening dose of NyQuil (terrible cold...), got dressed and we drove down into town.

The chicks came in a smallish but sturdy cardboard box with plenty of holes for ventilation (and for voicing their displeasure effectively). When we walked in the door of the post office we heard them cheeping away at full throat, and instantly our hearts were warmed to them.

They will require a balmy temperature of 90-95 degrees in their first days, so we have them in a big plastic tub in the basement with a heating lamp for the time being. We'll transfer them into a "brooding" shed in a few weeks and then finally into their spacious coop sometime after that. With winter around the corner we want to make sure they're healthy and strong before putting them outside.

We bought a mix-breed batch of 25 laying hens, and, if healthy, they should reach maturity and start laying in about 5-6 months. They're very cute, and we're very happy with the first installment on our little farm.

Here are some pictures:

Next Things

2010-09-07T17:39:00.000-05:00

Greetings, friends!

Well, after another far too long an absence from blogging, I'm back.

After a few months of time in Chicago helping my parents in their role of care-taking for Grams, we're moving on to Wisconsin. Happily, I was offered a job writing for Catholic Stewardship Consultants, which will make living at the farm possible. We'll leave two Mondays from now, in time for my brother-in-law Caleb's wedding, the following weekend.

Lots of aspects of living at the farm are attractive to us, but an agrarian life in general is the strongest impetus for the move. We're tremendously excited to get settled and started. I hope to make regular updates about our new adventures once we're there and started.

In the meantime, please keep us, my parents and Grams in your prayers as we get closer to her hip replacement surgery next Thursday.

Cheers!

Updates

2010-07-22T21:06:00.000-05:00

Greetings!

My apologies for the absence after such a momentous announcement!

We've arrived safely in Chicago for the next month or so, but are without internet service at home so posting will be scant. I'll be back again soon though!

Cheers!

Farewell to Big D

2010-06-30T10:11:00.000-05:00

According to A Severe Mercy, as C.S. Lewis took his leave of Sheldon Vanauken, he hurried away saying "Christians never say good-bye", but I beg to differ with our old friend on this one.

At long last Stephanie and I are moving on from our little home here in Big D. We'd been waiting for a job to come along before moving, and wait we have. But with no jobs forthcoming, we've decided to eschew that safety measure and move anyways. We visited Chicago recently to help my family with a few things, and on our way back to Texas (chronicled at length here, here, here and here) we decided it was high time to be back in the Midwest.

We were greatly blessed to have significant spiritual promptings that both prepared us and confirmed us in the decision. So, though the move will present certain significant challenges, we feel very much at peace about it. Plus we get to get out of Dallas before the worst of the heat comes!

Our time in Dallas has been wonderful. We were blessed with more good friends than we could have ever hoped for. We were blessed with wonderful spiritual guidance and nurturing through the Cistercians and Fr Rudy. We were blessed with amazing professors, whose lives as much as their classroom teaching reflected their affinity for Truth, Beauty and Goodness, and their proximity to the Love that animates all that is true, beautiful and good. We were blessed with jobs that provided us with the opportunity to live comfortably and with financial responsibility and to fly home as often as we needed to. We were abundantly blessed.

Parting from our friends, our beloved Cistercian Monastery, and the UD community will be difficult, but having experienced a similar break when we left Hillsdale we feel prepared with the foreknowledge that such chapters in life are transitional, and cannot last forever. I guess we feel kind of like the fellowship back at Rivendell after the "War of the Ring", delighted to be yet in such wonderful company but eager to get home and to the world that awaits, and has awaited, us there.

We don't know what the next chapter in our life together will hold, but are eager to begin it.

To our beloved friends here in Texas, our fondest farewells. Thank you for your wonderful friendship. It has been an amazing gift to share these years with you! May our friendship last for many years to come!

Cheers!

The Cleanse

2010-06-29T16:43:00.001-05:00

At the recommendation of a homeopathic doctor we went to, Steph and I decided to do a cleansing diet.

The diet restricts all wheat, all corn, all red meat, all dairy, all sugar, all caffeine, and all fun. After a week, the diet also restricts all grains except rice (no more oatmeal), meat altogether, all legumes, all nuts, and any other ounce of fun that you might have fenagled out of week one's more liberal restrictions, leaving you eating fresh fruit and vegetables and boat load of rice.

Now, the beginning of the cleanse happened to coincide with my getting a sinus infection courtesy of a second round of pseudo-whooping cough. After about 3 or 4 days of sinus headaches combined with sugar and caffeine withdrawal headaches, all the lobes in my sizeable cranium were throbbing in such a fashion that I was very, very crabby and very unhappy. Things were bleak. But, having been duly chastised for being a sissy, I rededicated myself to the diet and its goals.

Two weeks in, we've come through most of the worst of it. I've gotten used to eating a third of my normal caloric intake (helpful for the old waistline, too!), and have gotten used to eating rice at least once or twice a day, and I have even gotten used to to the powder that we drink diluted in juice or water three times a day, which looks, smells, and tastes like very expensive dirt.

It ought be mentioned though, that built into the 3-4 week cleanse, was the understanding that I'd be able to enjoy certain already planned events such as lunch at the steak place with my paper vendor and lunch at the BBQ place with the guys. So today, having not eaten any read meat, any dairy, any wheat, or any sugar in over two weeks, I pulled my chair up to the table at Texas Land and Cattle and enjoyed a cheddar, bacon and barbecue sauce burger with lemonade and garlic "smashed" potatoes perhaps more than I ever have in my entire life!

One unforseen benefit to the cleanse is that its a great conversation piece: "So we're doing this cleanse thing..." "Really? What's that like?" Etc. A further benefit , in addition to a healthy intestinal track and liver and some weight loss, is that you can blame stuff on it. I usually just blame my color blindness when I need a random excuse, but the cleanse comes in even more handily than color blindness. For example, during the cleanse you sweat out a lot of toxins, so if you find yourself a little bit rank, regardless of the normalcy of you smelling foul in a certain situation (like playing Frisbee in the summer in Big D), you can just say, "Dude, I'm sorry, but we're doing this cleanse thing..." And that should always elicit one of those 'nuf said moments.

But in all seriousness, I think laughing about it has really helped us get through the difficult times of cravings and weaknesses. And in a similar vein, the biggest benefit has been that of conquering my will. Its amazing how weak our wills tend to be -- and really exciting to see that you can do things that you never would have thought yourself capable of. So I guess the cleanse also has a bit of a Lenten Spirituality to it: breaking our needs for unessentials can be of great assistance in turning to our one true Essential.

There and Back Again, A Civic's Tale -- Part IV

2010-06-22T12:54:00.003-05:00

Tuesday morning came, as any other -- the sun rising in the East, darkness yielding to daylight; we rose giving glory to God for his goodness in allowing us to traverse so great a distance without great calamity.

Over coffee and pastry at the kitchen table, we planned our week with my Dad. [It ought be mentioned at this juncture that the main impetus for our trip to Chicago was to help my parents get their house ready to sell. They're selling the house because they have moved in with Grams to help take care of her after her return from rehab after hip replacement surgery (the first of two).] Having listed and prioritized the projects, we set out to drop off the car and pick up supplies.

My Dad's usual garage is in Flossmoor on Flossmoor Rd, across from Infant Jesus of Prague Catholic Church and School. Its called Flossmoor Family Auto Repair, and the proprietor, Bill, is a great mechanic. We talked through our saga with Bill. He asked questions and listened carefully to all the information we could give him. By the time we left we were sure he'd fix it for us.

That day was spent trimming bushes, a craft I perfected years back when Andy and I ran Gaffers, our own Lawncare and Landscaping business. We trimmed and trimmed and trimmed. Bush trimming is as gratifying an occupation as any I know of. When you start the bush is scraggly and unkempt -- these, no offense M/D, were no exception -- and when you finish they are orderly and neat. Perhaps the joy is in the fulfilment of the command to subdue the Earth, bringing order out of chaos. We also cut off some big limbs from a few trees that were encroaching where that oughtn't have. Then we made our first visit out to Alden to see Grams at her rehab center. She was doing well and was delighted to see us, and us her.

The following day, our anniversary, we finished the bushes, power washed the deck (our favorite task of the week) and ordered 8 cubic yards of mulch to spread in all the beds, it would be delivered the next morning. We also enjoyed, as Stephanie's anniversary present to me, a couple's massage at a local salon -- it was amazing! To cap it off we watched game three of the Stanley Cup and had a nice dinner: an antipasto salad and a large "Chicago Style" Aurelios pizza with pepperoncini, sausage and pepperoni.

Thursday we got all of the beds weeded, started spreading mulch, and stained the deck. Sadly, after two trips to Home Depot that afternoon and evening we were still came up short on stain and by 9:00pm we were also short on daylight, so we retired to Esposito-style spaghetti for dinner.

It was also on Thursday that we heard back about our car, Bill the mechanic had looked at it extensively but he couldn't get the car to overheat, and everything looked fine.He concluded that our gage was probably just reading inaccurately. He encouraged us to try to get it to overheat and bring it in the next morning. I was vexed.

Friday, my Mom's birthday, Steph set out early to drive the car for a few hours, trying to simulate the circumstances that had previously led to overheating. I set out early to work on the mulch pile. Sadly, the car wouldn't cooperate; it pretended to be fine -- sinister Civic. Around noon, Steph and Erin took Mom out for birthday pedicures, while Dad and I finished up the mulch and ran some errands -- it was wonderful to spend so much time with them! We finished the mulch, but couldn't finish the deck because it started raining. That was the one project left incomplete.

That evening to celebrate the birthday we went out to dinner with G & G Hurtubise, Al, Jen, E and my parents at Rock Bottom Brewery -- sadly, brother-in-law Kevin couldn't make it. Everyone came back to the house for cake and the conclusion of Game 4 of the Stanley Cup. It was a fitting way to end our wonderful week.

Saturday morning we said our "good bye" early and, be-donuted, hit the wagon trail, hoping to make it to Joplin again, if not all the way to Tulsa.

Our morning drive was smooth and uneventful and I was a nervous wreck. Traffic came to a halt as we crossed the Mighty Mississippi, and I was sure we'd overheat on the bridge, but the gage didn't even climb. "What the heck?" As we started our Ozark assents, I was sure we'd overheat there, but for the most part the gage reflected healthy engine life -- some rise on big climbs then, as the coolant did its job, moderation. Finally, up to its old tricks again, we resumed the thermal roller coaster.

Warn out, we stopped for lunch around 1:30pm in Springfield, an hour and a half from Joplin. We sat in Applebee's sharing an Oriental Chicken salad and Buffalo Bites, and I contemplated the depths of human agony. I sipped lemonade. "Can life get any worse?" I crawled back to the car, and assumed the seat of ultimate torture behind the wheel.

Bill had said that if the car actually overheated (again, he thought it was just the gage), all sorts of emergency lights would come on, and the engine would start steaming. As I pulled out of the Applebee's parking lot, I awaited these lights and this steam, resigned, cold, dismayed.

Stephanie called ahead to our Marriott and booked us a room. Beset by the basest of cynicism, I highly doubted that we'd be seeing Joplin that night. (I kept this to myself.)

But see Joplin we did. As we pulled into our Marriott there was a great fleet of road construction trucks in the parking lot. As we walked in there was a great gathering of Southeast Kansas road construction workers loitering about the lobby. "You going to the bar with us?" "No, El Dorado is on. I'm fixing to watch that." "Oh, Okay."

The room they had placed us in was really smoky so we returned to the front desk to get a second. As I reached for the key from the clerk, I heard one of the other hotel staff giving a final warning to one of the road workers about smoking in his room. As we rode the elevator back up, one of the more affable of the lot, turned to me and mentioned that his roommate had flooded the tub, and that there was now 3" of standing water in his room. I was relieved when he got off a floor below us. We finally settled into our accommodations, ordered our customary Joplin Missouri Papa John's special (Italian Sausage and Pepperoni) and vegetated to the tune of a Royals vs. Tigers game.

That night we watched a C-Span special featuring military-historian and cultural/political critic Victor Davis Hanson (sometimes professor at Hillsdale). He made a point that really resonated with me. He said that moderns assume that peace is the norm and war and suffering are the anomaly, and its only greedy heads of state that keep us from peace, but every student of history, of psychology, of theology, viz. of Man, knows that this is not the case. Suffering will always accompany man this side of the veil. The most obvious philosophical/theological principle in the world is Man's fallen nature.

Knowing this, I went to bed. We found a Church in Joplin to attend Mass the next morning (no comment there...) and hit the road. I took the morning shift. We left Missouri and its manifold miseries behind us, and entered the promised land of I44, the Indian Nation Turnpike, speed limit 75. Life seemed good, we blasted Buena Vista Social Club. Then came the real test.

You'll recall from Part I, that to cross from Northeast Oklahoma down to Big D you take Highway 75/69, but this road is peppered with obsolete small towns that greatly impede steady progress. As we entered the first of these towns, the gage climbed rapidly, I sweat bullets. As we exited Grand Lake, Oklahoma I accelerated quickly, so as to cool the engine down...

[At this point we reach the low point of our narrative, just so you're forewarned, my gentle reader.]

As the speedometer climbed and the gage fell, I started to feel better. Then a cat darted across the 2-Lane highway, and I ran it over. I killed it. It bounded behind the car. It was alive before it darted across the road, then I hit it with the car, and now it was dead. My heart sank. I beat the dash with my fist. Cursing our civilization for having created the sort of transportation system of which a necessary consequence is the arbitrary killing animals.

That being said, for our car's sake I'm glad it wasn't an armadillo.

These towns were agonizing, climbs with each deceleration, but we endured.

Then, having cleared the last of them and resuming unimpeded highway speed. We stopped just North of the Texas border for lunch at Chili's, whose Buffalo Chicken Sandwich, by the way, was both amply portioned and delicious. The temperature had been in the low 70's when we left Chicago Saturday morning. It was now over 100 as we prepared to re-enter the Lone Star State. Sated and no longer on the edge of insanity, we took to the highway once again. We'd passed through all the small towns, all that was left to navigate was the ever-present traffic of the 75/635 and 635/35 junctures and we'd be home.

As we crossed the border we were stunned by how much nicer the roads were and how much cleaner everything looked. Promptly we saw a road sign that read, "Cleaning up litter on YOUR hwy costs YOU money". We'd never been so delighted to be back in Texas.

The gage darted on us a few times, be we didn't care any more. We'd made it back to the metroplex, and would make it home. We did have to open the windows and vent the heat just so we wouldn't have to stop, but we made it.

At this point, you're probably wondering what ever happened with the car. Well, we're not entirely sure. At Bill's recommendation we took it to the dealer and they ran a thorough diagnostic test on the whole engine. They found a 40% leak in the head gasket, which, under the pressure of stop and go traffic would admit air bubbles into the coolant system. Mark, the guy we were working with, had quoted us $1757 for a new head gasket and to replace the timing belt and water pump, which we'd known it was time to do anyways. The next day at work I couldn't get a hold of Mark. When I checked my phone I had three voice mails from a different guy named Donny. Donny had upped it to $2200. I told Donny thanks but no thanks and we went and picked up the car.

Our good friends Dan and Bethany had been heartily recommending Hondura Car Service for days, so after we picked it up from the dealership we brought the Civic there, got a quote of $950 from a lovely older gentleman, gave him the keys, and bid him fix our engine and end our tales of woe. Spending $950 never looked so good. We should hear from them today, and that should be the end of this Civic's tale.

Cheers!

There and Back Again, A Civic's Tale -- Part III

2010-06-21T09:46:00.000-05:00

Resuming our narrative, after a bit longer break than expected (which I shall explain later -- be patient), Sunday morning arrived and we rose in our lovely chalet to the sound of birds chirping and Brother Sun rising over the nascent cornfields. Drinking-in the beautiful surroundings we sat with all the windows open and prayed morning prayers in a state of total peace.

Around 8:00am we made our way across the driveway to the Crane's house where Andy was working on a few final details to the menu for the forthcoming barbecue. We sipped a bit of coffee with our hosts, chatted about the baptism, and got ready to make our way to Mass. A few minutes later than intended we hopped into the Monte Carlo and plotted our course for Jerseyville and St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church.

St. Francis Xavier, like many of the old small town parishes in the Midwest (though not all), is a large beautiful church. The pastor, Fr. Patrick Gibbons, is a wonder priest -- filled with zeal for the Gospel and its heritage in the Church. As we made our way down the aisle to our hosts' usual spot, we saw the whole Wegrzyn crew a few pews over, sitting behind a few rows of Cranes. What a wonderful sight!

After the lovely Mass, we greeted the Wegrzyn bunch and made our way to the front for the baptism -- Maggie generously agreed to be photographer with our family. What a joy and honor to welcome Clare, our dear friends' first child, into the Body of Christ in baptism as godparents! After the baptism and the post-baptismal pictures and after the post-baptismal chatting the caravan meandered back to the Crane farm for the celebratory feast, but not before my clever wife snapped our photographic evidence of New Beginningwings of a Dove Church -- see Part II.

The feast was a feast indeed. Andy having planned the menu, there were meats aplenty from a local country butcher: burgers, beef franks, bratwursts, cheddarwursts, jalapeno cheddarwursts, and best of all, marinated meat-kabobs; and beers aplenty: several Midwestern micro-brews and, everyone's favorite, Stag. We ate lunch with the Wegrzyn family and Fr. Gibbons, chatted with some of the Andy and Amanda's friends and finished the afternoon with a few games of 'Bags'. The bean bags themselves were made with White Sox material, which was trying to say the least, but at least I was throwing them away from myself... Paul, who clearly had had much more practise than the rest of us, proved indomitable and the rest of us limped back into the house to lick our wounds in the air conditioning, which is to say to eat more delicious food, while Clare opened her presents.

After all the day's excitement (and food) Sunday evening was quiet. We chatted with our friends, watched some Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN -- an unusual treat us -- and retired to the chalet and to bed.

Monday began much as Sunday had with a beautiful, sunlit morning; the fields seemed to glow. Andy having made breakfast, we enjoyed a breakfast casserole featuring eggs, cheese, broccoli and 2lbs of sausage -- it was delicious. After breakfast, coffee and conversation, we got dressed and loaded up our Civic for the final leg of our trip to Chicago.

Mr. Crane generously did his best to diagnose our problem. He correctly pointed out that the leak was transmission fluid, but the reservoir was still full, our coolent levels were fine, as was the oil; so we should be OK. As we charted our course the previous afternoon with Andy's dad (an expert in Midwestern travel), we had kept two principles in mind: 1. Stay on the Interstate as much as possible, and 2. Avoid stop and go traffic at all costs. Though a bit further in mileage than the obvious choice of I72 to I55 to I80, our I72 to I57 course should more fully employ our two principles.

Having said goodbyes to our friends and the Cranes, we warily set out on the road again, thinking it not unlikely that we'd be seeing the Wegrzyns and Cranes again that morning...

It was about a forty minute drive through the small towns of Southern Illinois to I72, but the Civic did fine. The weather, as it had been the two previous days, was warm and humid. However, as we made our way to 72 storm clouds gathered overhead and it began to rain, then it began to pour. This rain, which we took to be the cooling hand of God upon our soon to be overheated engine, was at once at once welcomed, and other than a spike in temperature at our two stops for gas and bathroom, the Civic did fine until we got off I57 a few miles from my parents' house.

The usual spikes accompanied our final few miles.The heat now blasting in a vain effort at engine cooling, we came close to having to stop a few times as we traveled East on Vollmer, now just minutes from my parents' house. Our hearts inversely rose and plummeted with each fickle rise and plummet of our temperature gage.

At last we made it, frazzled and exhausted from yet another anxious journey. But, we'd made it. We had six days for my Dad's trusted mechanic to figure out the problem and fix it before we made the 15 hour trip back to Texas. We brought our bags in, greeted and hugged our happily assembled family (Mom and Dad, Erin and Kevin, and Aunt Al and Jen), pet Sophie, and enjoyed a nice cool bottle of water.

It being Memorial Day, we were shortly to head over to Uncle Jerry and Aunt Cathi's house for Italian Beef and game 2 of the Blackhawks vs. Flyers in the Stanley Cup Finals. We had a marvelous evening, unwinding with family, delicious food and Newcastle Brown Ale.

We would take the Civic in first thing Tuesday morning, and all would be well... Or would it?

There And Back Again, A Civic's Tale -- Part II

2010-06-08T10:14:00.007-05:00

One of our favorite pastimes during road trips is playing car games. Generally we play old favorites like "The Countries Game" (which consists of seeing who can name the most countries starting with a given letter) or "Twenty Questions", a variation of which the Morgans play called "Botticelli". On this particular trip we were decided to focus on two other games: the license plate game and the church game. As to the license plate game we fared very nicely, missing only 11 states (including HI and AK). The "church game" was a new one for us; we invented it to try to help out Mike and Sue by making a list of every funny church name we saw, since they're in the process of renaming their church. Throughout the course of our research several themes emerged: victory, truth, beginning, ending/finality, and family-centeredness. We appreciated that those naming these churches often added emphasis by combining words, and by sometimes leaving the word 'church' out altogether.

The following is our complete list:

*Twilight Church
*River of Life Christian Fellowship
*Way to Victory Church
*Victory Church
*Truth Church
*Church Central
*Family Praise Center
*Lifepoint
*Truth (Just Truth)
*New Beginnings
*Destiny Family Church
*Harvestime
*Lighthouse
*Legacy Family Church (This one was in a strip mall in rural Oklahoma)
*Pleasant Hope Church
*Gates to Glory Ministries
*Church of Living Water
*Lifechurch -- Its not just a church its a way of life! (all on the sign)
*Rock 'n Rose Church
*New Beginningwings of a Dove Church

The last two were far and away our favorites. We even snapped a picture of New Beinningwings of a Dove Church, (which was across the street from the Wegrzyn's St. Francis Xavier in Jerseyville) because we thought it to be so amazing that you just might not believe us.

There And Back Again, a Civic's Tale -- Part I

2010-06-07T14:44:00.007-05:00

Greetings, gentle Lector.

The past eleven days have been comprised of such a whirlwind tour as your devoted Auctor and his beloved bride have not seen in many a year. Allow me to catch you up on all things Hurtubise:

Well, it all started a week before we were to begin our journey North to St Louis for the baptism of our goddaughter Clare, and on to Chicago for a work week at my parent's house in Flossmoor.

To kick off the anniversary season (#3 for our still young marriage) we decided to go see our Cubbies play the Rangers in an inter-league affair at the Rangers' ballpark in Arlington. Having gotten most of the way there, we hit some stop-and-go traffic with the AC on full bore and our trusty little Honda Civic began overheating. Trying to ameliorate the situation we blasted the heat the rest of the way but had to stop short of finding a gas station to let things cool down and check the fluids. Setting off on foot under the watchful and despotic glare of the summer Texas sun, we searched out some dinner and some coolant, as the anti-freeze reserve tank was totally empty -- an obvious cause of overheating, we assumed. We located coolant at a Pep Boys, and dinner at Colter's BBQ, which we found to be mediocre as far as Texas BBQ goes. Then we hiked back to our car, put the coolant in and trotted off to the game -- confident in our automotive solution and well-sated with dinner. The Cubs lost a great game, but would go on to win the next two -- each of the three decided by just one run. The car ran fine on the way home later that night in the (relative) cool of the evening.

The following morning, having driven to the farmer's market in Big D, and back to Irving without incident, we took the car in for its scheduled oil change and check up at our trusted Midas on 183 in Irving. Charles Tinker, the owner and chief mechanic there, took a look at things, and said we were good to go. Again, we trusted that our lack of coolant had been the issue. Taking off for Grapevine later that afternoon (another sweltering, sunny day) the engine overheated on us again, and two more times on the way home. Desperate for a solution with our drive North less than a week off now, we limped back to Mr. Tinker. He ran it for an hour, testing all the levels, and finding nothing. His best guess was what he called a "Gremlin" -- viz., that we'd gotten an air bubble in the coolant system when we added the coolant the day before. Flushing the system and adding new coolant, he thought we'd be fine.

Steph drove the car to and from work all week without incident, and we tooled around town for a while on Thursday night, again, with no overheating.

Friday arrived and we left for St. Louis and the Wegrzyn/Crane farm with highs in the mid 90's in Big D. We got to Denison, TX, just South of the Oklahoma border, and hit stop-and-go traffic in the Texas heat, under the Texas sun and the thermostat shot up again. We limped off at the first exit and parked in a liquor store parking lot under a pathetic little tree; we were two hours, and 100 miles from home wondering what to do now. Steph went into the liquor store to use the bathroom, brave woman. I stood under the puny tree -- no good for any real shade -- and stared into the engine compartment, fancying that if I peered in long enough an idea might come to me. Well, funny enough an idea did come.

I'd gotten Steph a GPS for our anniversary and given it to her 5 days early. I pulled the GPS out, resumed my place under the lamest tree in North Texas, and began scrolling through the options. Clicking on something akin to "Garages" -- to my utter amazement -- .1 miles away, up a podunk little wooded lane was John Chak's Automotive. Stephanie came out of the liquor store, none the worse for wear -- it wouldn't be the worst bathroom we visited on our adventures -- and we willed the trusty Civic up North Loy Lake Rd., to Mr. Chak's garage.

The receptionist, a cordial, chatty native of Dallas -- not of the rural Texoma environs we now inhabited -- greeted us with a smile and some much appreciated cold bottled water. A while later a large and cheery Jamaican mechanic diagnosed our problem as a busted radiator. Ignorant of most all things mechanical, and unable to point out a radiator at this point, we warily asked if they could replace it that afternoon; and were delighted to hear they could.

Finally, with two and half hours invested in topical conversation with the receptionist, a few dozen pages read in our books (Sir Martin Gilbert's biography of Churchill for me and Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband for Stephanie), and $400 invested in a new radiator, once more we set about finagling our escape from Dallas in search of the gentler climes of the Midwest.

In discussing this journey, it is important that you realize that there is no very sensible way to get from Dallas to St. Louis. Interstate 35 draws one slightly off to the West, if mostly straight North, en route to Oklahoma City, where you intersect with I44 and resume heading in the actual direction of your destination via Tulsa. A more direct route is Highway 75/69 which takes you not only East of Oklahoma City, but also East of Tulsa, thus avoiding several potential snares in the state's two largest cities. "What is so insensible about this latter route?" you're likely to interject. Well, nothing, provided you don't mind dealing with dozens of small Oklahoma towns, as you're on highways, and not interstates for 290 odd miles.

Resuming our narrative again, we crossed the border into Oklahoma and started the long trek up the Eastern end of the state. We knew we had reached Oklahoma when none of the male customers at the gas station had shirts on, and all of them were buying huge bags of ice and cases of the cheapest beer available -- no offense to any readers I might have from the Sooner State (if that notion isn't in and of itself oxymoronic). The small towns that slowed our Northern advance consisted mostly of decrepit old buildings with "antiques" strewn about out front -- some more honestly advertised their hocked wares as "good junk". The temperature gage did rise a few times as we crawled through the towns, but we made it to the placidly smooth Indian Turnpike (Interstate 44 in Northeastern OK), and cruised into Missouri without further incident. Thanks to the GPS, we booked a room just across the border in Joplin, MO whilst en route and even ordered a Papa John's pizza to be delivered to our room shortly after our arrival.

However, when we got off I44, no longer the Indian Turnpike, the thermostat resumed its old tricks -- to our great consternation! Having parked, we opened up the hood, and found a considerable amount of leaked fluid and smoke. "What now!?!?"

That night I slept quite poorly as I was up with indigestion. The flaming esophagus was fueled either by the stress of apparently desperate car trouble many miles from both home and destination or perhaps by the delicious garlic butter that accompanies each and every Papa Johns pizza; more than likely the blame rested with both. Groggy the next morning, but in good spirits, I once more ignorantly gazed at our engine, plied the dip sticks, opened the radiator cap and pronounced the car fit for the road -- despite a small pool of unidentified fluid beneath the car. Then, having plucked the finest fruits of the continental breakfast (blueberry muffins and coffee/tea), we resumed our journey.

Saturday was another hot day, as we crossed the widest belt of "Show Me State". The heat, combined with the fact that I-44 trods a rather hilly trail across the Missouri Ozarks, the conditions conspired to test our new radiator and our steely resolve. We made it up and down the climbs of the Ozarks with predictable undulation in engine temperature. But, having skirted St. Louis on I-270, and left the uninterrupted flow of interstate highway at Alton, IL, our fickle thermostat had had enough and shot upward like an Albert Pujols infield pop fly. The remaining 45 minutes of our itinerary to the Crane farm would be elongated into a very trying and very warm two hour fiasco as we ran the heat full blast in the 90+ degree Southern Illinois sun. Our once steely resolve began to bend a bit, and we had to pull off to let the engine and ourselves cool down several times. Finally, moist in body and frazzled in spirit, we arrived at the sweet safety of our rural refuge, and left the Civic for the next few days. Mr. Crane would take a look at the old girl a few days later and correctly diagnose the leak to be transmission fluid, and the new radiator to have been brutalized on its insertion into the engine, and the problem to be with the gage or thermostat. But, for now, we were relieved to have made it to a safe and familiar haven.

That night we unwound with our beneficent and much beloved hosts Andy and Amanda (and Clare) at Carpenter's in Jerseryville over a few Coors Lites and other delicious fare. Comforted with friendship, food and drink, but still very much spent from our trying journey, we retired to bed fairly early in our chalet and slept a sweet and peaceful sleep, much like Bilbo at Rivendell after passing through the unexpected dangers of many unexpected wild woods.

FYI

2010-04-25T09:26:00.004-05:00

Greetings, friends!

FYI: I've published a 'guest post' at my good friend Andy's blog, which is linked here. I think many of you will enjoy it, and I'd love to hear what you might in the comments there. The post is a philosophical/theological answer to the question of 'why do Catholics do that at Mass?'

Cheers!

And the walls came a tumbling down

2010-04-11T11:17:00.011-05:00

We had a rather interesting morning yesterday. What follows is a rough chronology of the rather unusual events that happily unfolded.

6:20am -- We woke up, got dressed. I wondered, "What is the appropriate attire for an implosion? Bear's shirt? Nah, too snarky..."

6:30am -- With some friends we walked down to the southeast corner of UD's property to stake out a spot for the big implosion; the implosion, that is, of the old Texas Stadium -- the home of the Dallas Cowboys since 1971.

6:45am -- We arrived at the crowded corner and realized that we were late for a party that had apparently begun the night before with UD's "Mallapalooza" -- a day long rock concert affair featuring several different bands and going late into the night. In addition to the very groggy undergraduate contingent, there were also the die-hard Cowboy's fans: decked out in Cowboy's apparel and amply equipped (to say the least) with tailgating accommodations: grills, meats, beer, flatscreen tv's, etc. UD's catering service was supposed to have been there with coffee and pastries for sale, but sadly we couldn't find them. Alas. Nevertheless, bereft of hoped for coffee and donuts, we found an open spot atop a smallish hill and waited.

7:00am -- The destruction was scheduled to unfold at 7:00am but nothing came.

7:02am -- A flurry of fireworks went off; we were at first surprised but quickly remembered we were in Texas and anything worth doing is worth doing with fireworks. Then what seemed to be a series of flares went off over the three highways that were temporarily closed (12, 114 and 183). Finally, the detonations started:

The stadium was held up by large cement buttresses all around the periphery, the detonations seemed to be focused on these. The bursts started on the far-side from our vantage so at first we just heard (and felt) the booms of the detonations -- we decided the only likeness for these thunderous noises was the mighty troll drums that shook the mines of Moria. Finally, the detonations turned the southern corner and came into our view. Being that they were aimed at 'implosion' at not 'explosion' they weren't terribly bright or fantastic. Nevertheless, we cheered and laughed with mad delight as the succession of flashes preceded the rolling destruction and gradually the whirlpool of imploding fury consumed that heinous structure which had too long ornamented our lives in Irving.

As the video evidence will undoubtedly reveal, a wonderful time was had by all. (The laughing and screaming, you'll all recognize, came from yours truly.)

Here's a video I took on my phone:

There are also tons of better videos of it all over the internet, such as here, here, and here.

7:08am -- Finally, I couldn't help but feel a bit like the destruction of this heinous shrine of 'Tex-cess', as I call it, was somehow a moment of collective atonement. Thusly, I cheerily sang all the way home:

"Joshua fought the battle of Jericho, Jericho, Jericho

Joshua fought the battle of Jericho

And the walls come tumbling down!"

7:35am -- We ate a celebratory pancake breakfast, overjoyed with our momentous morning and our newly much-improved prospect to the South East.

The Best Anti-Abortion Video I've seen

2010-04-06T23:55:00.003-05:00

Easter Hymn

2010-04-06T09:50:00.006-05:00

This Easter hymn, suggested in the morning prayers today, struck a chord with me -- it felt like one of those chords that's ambiguous as to whether its major or minor (I guess that'd mean the 3rd is left out), that concludes a line of minor chords without sounding lamely cheerful. As a further aside, I hate when people end beautiful minor hymns by making the last chord major, I feel like shaking the musicians and telling them to grow up.

Back to the topic at hand. This hymn whispered to me the hope of Easter, not in the blaring, rejoicing trumpets and 'Alleluias' of Jesus Christ is Risen Today, but in the gentle touch of our risen Lord, yet caring, nurturing and healing those with aching hearts, bodies and minds.

Lord, we come before thee now,
At thy feet we humbly bow:
Oh, do not our suit disdain!
Shall we seek thee, Lord, in vain?

In thine own appointed way
Now we seek thee, here we stay.
Lord, we know not how to go
Till a blessing thou bestow.

Comfort those who weep and mourn,
Let the time of joy return;
Those that are cast down lift up,
Make them strong in faith and hope.

Grant that all may seek and find
Thee a gracious God and kind.
Heal the sick, the captive free;
Let us all rejoice in thee.

+ + +

Yesterday was opening day for Major League Baseball, so Steph and I went to a sports bar to watch our beloved Cubbies open a new season (fyi: they got crushed by the Braves). We got a couple of appetizers and innumerable refills of Lemonade and Arnold Palmers. Despite the festiveness of the occasion, the atmosphere in the sports bar (i.e. loud music, countless tv's, fairly sketchy waitresses, etc.) combined with a chance encounter with a homeless veteran in the parking lot served to thoroughly depress me. The man in the parking lot implored us in God's name to help him pay for a shower and shave at the Salvation Army just up the road. He showed us some wounds he'd gotten in the army. He pleaded with us. He apologized profusely (and herein my depression). I gave him the money he needed, wondering if he'd take it to the liquor store adjacent to the lot we were in. He headed in the direction of the Salvation Army. God bless him and keep him.

Those that are cast down lift up,
Make them strong in faith and hope.
Grant that all may seek and find
Thee a gracious God and kind.

+ + +

God is always teaching us. We are being formed in His eternal image -- the image of Christ. He is the potter we are the clay (IS 64:8). I've been learning experientially that Christian maturity is largely about surrendering to the hands of the Divine artist, which is to say, learning what it means to say 'Thy whill be done' so as to say it more truly and effectively in our lives.

It would seem that God often has to resort to the chisel, as C.S. Lewis put it, because we are too obstinate to be worked with His hands. The chisel, as it were, consists of the painful experiences that call us out of ourselves, to grow in ways that normal experience and development failed to accomplish. These days it seems like there's a lot of chiseling going on, in my life, and in the lives of many people dear to me.

Let us all hold each other in our constant prayers before the Lord.

Lord, we come before thee now,
At thy feet we humbly bow:
Oh, do not our suit disdain!
Shall we seek thee, Lord, in vain?

Grant that all may seek and find

Thee a gracious God and kind.
Heal the sick, the captive free;
Let us all rejoice in thee.

The Physician's Perpective on Healthcare Reform

2010-03-30T09:33:00.006-05:00

This link takes you to a CNBC video interview with a physician that founded the largest online site for physicians. I highly recommend giving it a listen if you're interested in what actual practising physicians tend to think of so-called "Health Care Reform".

Janet Smith at UD

2010-03-23T17:37:00.004-05:00

7pm Friday March 26th at Lynch Auditorium

"The Right to Privacy:

Unbridled Autonomy and the Distortion of Freedom"

A talk from
Dr. Janet E. Smith
Chair of Life Ethics and Professor of Moral Theology
Sacred Heart Major Seminary

(She's also a former UD professor)

More on Conversion

2010-03-23T11:01:00.003-05:00

From the late Cardinal Dulles' book on Newman:

"Revealed religion is to be accepted not simply by the intellect but by the whole person as a gracious gift from a loving God. Supposing that someone could be converted by sheer force of argument, without feeling the need or the desire of it, how would that person be the better for believing?... Newman maintains [that] evidences rarely bring people to change their views. Religious minds, as a general rule, embrace the gospel becuase it responds to their religious needs, whereas evidences are thrown away on irreligious minds."

Our Cistercian Brothers

2010-03-22T10:33:00.003-05:00

Some co-workers informed me this morning that the Dallas Morning News -- the big paper here in Big D -- had a front page article about the resurgence of new vocations at Our Lady of Dallas Monastery, known to us as "Cistercian". The article features a conversation with one of the younger brothers, Brother Lawrence -- an affable young monk, that I got to know through some of my classes.

I was greatly privileged not only to be able to take four classes from the amazing priests from the monastery, but also had several of the younger monks in those four classes and in many of my other classes with lay professors. In all of those classes I got to know several of these brothers well. They are brilliant young men, but also kind, generous and holy. Some of my favorite times here at UD as a student, were chatting with the brothers during 15 minute class breaks, or after class while they waited for the older priest teaching the class to finish meeting with students before they all drove back to the monastery.

When people ask me about the priesthood, and why it is celibate, I wish they could meet these young men, and their older confreres -- who so willingly and happily give all for a life of ministry.

The Insidious Evil of Pornography

2010-03-17T15:00:00.002-05:00

Patrick Fagan, a good friend of the University of Dallas and a Fellow at the Family Research Council, has compiled a very comprehensive review the effects of pornography on marriage and family. This link takes you to the paper which he wrote to demonstrate his findings.

I highly recommend getting educated on this critical topic, which sadly is pandemic in Western culture. To wax spiritual warfare, the Devil knows that pornography is highly effective in undermining the whole foundation of marriage and family life.

Some Thoughts on Recent HCR Developments

2010-03-16T10:54:00.004-05:00

First a quote from Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, (D) California:

Rep. Pelosi is endorsing using a backdoor parliamentary procedure (ironically?) called the 'self-executing rule' to pass the Senate bill through the house without ever bringing it to a vote. She says, "I like it, because people don't have to vote on the Senate bill."

If a bill is not only not representative of the people, but is not even representative of our representatives, under what pretense can we term this type of government as being democratic?

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Next, in his chief work on the social-political theory of distributism, The Outline of Sanity, G.K. Chesterton gives a brilliant synopsis of the basically dictatorial temperament of socialism. His imagery sounded very eerily similar to the pontificating of democratic elites as of late (see above):

"Socialism is a system which makes the corporate unity of society responsible for all its economic processes,or all those affecting life and essential living. If anything important is sold, the Government has sold it; if anything important is given,the Government has given it; if anything important is even tolerated,the Government is responsible for tolerating it. This is the very reverse of anarchy; it is an extreme enthusiasm for authority.It is in many ways worthy of the moral dignity of the mind;it is a collective acceptance of a very complete responsibility. But it is silly of Socialists to complain of our saying that it must be a destruction of liberty. It is almost equally silly of Anti-Socialists to complain of the unnatural and unbalanced brutality of the Bolshevist Government in crushing a political opposition. A Socialist Government is one which in its nature does not tolerate any true and real opposition. For there the Government provides everything;and it is absurd to ask a Government to provide an opposition.

You cannot go to the Sultan and say reproachfully, "You have made no arrangements for your brother dethroning you and seizing the Caliphate." You cannot go to a medieval king and say,"Kindly lend me two thousand spears and one thousand bowmen,as I wish to raise a rebellion against you." Still less can you reproach a Government which professes to set up everything,because it has not set up anything to pull down all it has set up.Opposition and rebellion depend on property and liberty.They can only be tolerated where other rights have been allowed to strike root, besides the central right of the ruler. Those rights must be protected by a morality which even the ruler will hesitate to defy.The critic of the State can only exist where a religious sense of right protects his claims to his own bow and spear; or at least,to his own pen or his own printing-press. It is absurd to suppose that he could borrow the royal pen to advocate regicide or use the Government printing-presses to expose the corruption of the Government.Yet it is the whole point of Socialism, the whole case for Socialism,that unless all printing-presses are Government printing-presses, printers may be oppressed. Everything is staked on the State's justice;it is putting all the eggs in one basket. Many of them will be rotten eggs; but even then you will not be allowed to use them at political elections."

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Some might interject to our line of thought: 'the party that lost the elections fair and square has no right to thwart all legislation they disagree with.' True. That would go against the nature of a democracy. However, that is not what is going on at present. A narrow majority of legislators are either opposed to this bill (whether in the specifics, e.g. Stupak's contra-abortion position, or in the whole, Republicans) or are afraid of the rammifications that voting for it would likely bear on their political careers moving forward. Thus, a slight minority is seeking means to force it through in what cannot be held to be anything short of un-democratic fashion.

A final objection would likely ring out, 'But Republicans would resort to such tactics to pass a bill that they strongly supported.' Irregardless of the truth of this objection, is it not beside the point? Is not illicit behavior illicit behavior, even if your opposition resorts (or might resort) to it?

Lenten Prayer

2010-03-01T09:12:00.003-06:00

Here is a beautiful prayer of penance from the book of Nehemiah:

“O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, let your ear be attentive and your eyes open, to hear the prayer of your servant that I now pray before you day and night for the people of Israel your servants, confessing the sins of the people of Israel, which we have sinned against you. Even I and my father's house have sinned. We have acted very corruptly against you and have not kept the commandments, the statutes, and the rules that you commanded your servant Moses. Remember the word that you commanded your servant Moses, saying, ‘If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the peoples, but if you return to me and keep my commandments and do them, though your outcasts are in the uttermost parts of heaven, from there I will gather them and bring them to the place that I have chosen, to make my name dwell there.’ They are your servants and your people, whom you have redeemed by your great power and by your strong hand. O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of your servant, and to the prayer of your servants who delight to fear your name.”

The Coming Forty Days

2010-02-16T15:38:00.009-06:00

“Forty years you sustained them in the wilderness so that they lacked nothing; their clothes did not wear out and their feet did not swell.” Nehemiah 9: 21

“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And he fasted forty days and forty nights.” Matthew 4: 1-2

A dear friend of mine—a Christian of the Protestant stripe—asked me the other day, “so what’s the deal with Lent, what are you doing for it this year?” So, I figured I’d put together a post in response. Coincidentally I was already planning just such a piece. A great passage in Hans Urs von Balthasar’s fabulous book on prayer, which I’ll share later in this post, had prompted me to think about a Lenten post a week ago. So, here are a few thoughts about the liturgical season of Lent, which is already once more upon us.

What is “Fat Tuesday” and why have Lent at all? Today is Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, on this the last day before Lent we prepare to trim off the excesses that have built up in our daily lives, and make last minute decisions about what we want to ‘give up’ for Lent. However, Lent is not about dieting and doing the things that we should already be doing on a regular basis. It is so much more. Above all, it is a season of turning back to God, of finding the things in our life that keep us from drawing closer to Him and getting rid of them—which is to say it is a season of penance. To borrow an oft used analogy: it is a season for serious introspection through which we look inside ourselves for the places that we have closed off from God, so that we might surrender all to Him, opening every door—no matter how big the mess might be in that particular room.

What’s the deal with 40 days? This number is symbolic of the 40 days that Jesus spent fasting in the desert, which in turn harkens back to the 40 years that the Israelites spent in the desert en route from Egypt to the Promised Land. This symbolism bears critical significance for understanding what Lent is all about as we’ll discuss below.

Why these prolonged stays out in the desert? Is God really so cruel as to demand four decades of living in the barren nothingness? The Israelites had grown far too accustomed to the ways of the Egyptians. They were happy to be miraculously liberated from their status as slaves, but soon the hardships of the journey had them clamoring for the perceived safety of life in chains in Egypt, their faith was that short-sighted. God knew that they needed a time of growing in dependence on Him, of coming to see Him for what He is: the Almighty, upon Whom we depend for everything, for every beat of our hearts, for every second of the world’s existence. That is one of the key lessons for us: as creatures we are utterly contingent upon our Creator; He created us out of nothing, so we have nothing to fall back upon that is our own. Thus, the 40 years were not a punishment so much as they were an amazing blessing—an utterly unique opportunity to grow in faith.

But why would Jesus, the only begotten Son of the Father, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity undergo 40 days of fasting in the desert? The answer to this question affords us a still deeper understanding of Lent and its purposes. Christ was indeed fully God, but he was also fully man. Though he had an impeccable human nature (he could not sin), his humanity drew closer to God in these forty days (and in his frequent solitary, all-night vigils). Christ knew with complete confidence that the Father would meet his every need. Further, he often chastised his disciples for thinking only in material terms:

“Now they had forgotten to bring bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, "Take heed, beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod." And they discussed it with one another, saying, "We have no bread." And being aware of it, Jesus said to them, "Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Having eyes do you not see, and having ears do you not hear? And do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" They said to him, "Twelve." "And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" And they said to him, "Seven." And he said to them, "Do you not yet understand?" – Mark 8:14-21

Balthasar notes that all the great prophets, even Jesus himself did not begin their public ministries until they had been confirmed in their relationship with God by fasting and dedicated prayer, through similar periods of testing and learning to rely upon God:

“We see those privileged to hear God withdrawing from the crowd and seeking solitude, Moses on Mount Sinai and in the clouds, Elias in the desert and on Horeb, John the Baptist and Paul in the deserts of Transjordan and Arabia. Jesus himself entered on his external mission only after forty days of fasting and prayer in the desert. They all set about their active life after a time of contemplation in which they withdrew from ordinary life but this withdrawal was clearly seen by the people to be but the prelude to their mission in the world, and in view of which God called them first of all to his presence ‘out of the world’.”

This withdrawal cannot be merely spiritual, and here we come to the crux of meaning of Lent. As human beings we are composite creatures: we consist of body and soul. Of course it is principally through the faculties of the soul that we know God, but our bodies are often the best tutors of our hearts and wills. As Balthasar notes, one of the errors of modernism is the Eastern notion of contemplation which would divorce the spirit (and spirituality) from the body:

“The act of contemplation, in which the believer hears the word of God and surrenders himself to it, is an act of the whole man. It cannot therefore assume a form in which man truncates his own being , whether for a short or longer time—for instance, by systematically training himself to turn from the outer world and attend wholly to the inner world… That kind of deliberate artificial restriction reduces man to a shadow of himself and is a misunderstanding of God’s demand, namely ‘conversion’.”

This division is thoroughly unbiblical:

“[Conversely,] the Old Testament…always envisages the whole man as the hearer and contemplator of the word, though it should be unnecessary to insist that it is not the animal or mineral part of man that hears God, but his spiritual soul, which comes from God and returns to him. It is the whole man who has to turn to God, retire into solitude, and listen exclusively to the word of God. And the whole man, too, including all that is most inward in him, has then to place himself at the service of God in the world and at the disposal of his brethren.”

Finally, to answer the original question, here are a few recommendations for things to do (and not to do) during lent:

* Remember that Lent is a positive thing, not a negative thing.
* Set aside daily time for prayer: Find/create a quiet space where to sit and listen to God, let Him speak to you. Let him into those closed off portions of your inmost self.
* Having done this deep and sincere prayerful self-examination, go to Christ in the Sacrament of Penance – confess your sins to Christ present in the priest. For non-Catholics, Lent is still a great time to make a deep examination of conscience and personal prayer for forgiveness.
* If you can, go sit in a Church in the presence of the Eucharist. Even if you’re not Catholic, it is a wonderful place to go and sit in the peaceful and beautiful (hopefully) quiet presence of God.
* Make a careful examination of yourself today, find a few things that you can deprive yourself of that can serve as a daily reminder of your desire to draw closer to God throughout the next 40 days.
* Don’t turn Lent into something vainly centered around you – don’t turn it into a second chance at forgotten New Year’s resolutions to diet or exercise.
* A great guide for the spirit of Lent is James 1:12-18:

“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. Let no one say when he is tempted, "I am being tempted by God," for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures.”

Lent is a season defined by hope. God does not begrudge us the growth that we seek, for our Lord has promised: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened” (Mt 7:7-8). God is our loving Father—bear in mind the parable of the prodigal son. This Lenten season, always remember that in every moment of weakness, wherever you are coming from, however far you’ve strayed from His love, He stands, eagerly awaiting your return, ready to forgive any offense, ready and capable to heal any heart, no matter how fragmented and broken: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Mt 11:28-30).

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Please see also: Some Some Disjointed Thoughts on Conversion

Running a Deficit Budget, National Debt, et al.

2010-02-15T10:00:00.002-06:00

Today may be a bit of a quiet day here at the BoA. I'm trying to get through a bit of reading/studying that I've been struggling to make time for, and am preparing a post about Lent -- which you can expect to see either tomorrow or (Ash) Wednesday.

In the meantime, I came upon a very informative article by N. Gregory Mankiw in the NYT -- of all places! -- about deficit economics and the irresponsibility of the current administration's policies.

The piece starts out by quoting Mr. Obama's State of the Union address:

“Let’s invest in our people without leaving them a mountain of debt. Let’s meet our responsibility to the citizens who sent us here.”

Mankiw then goes on to judge Obama and his administration by this ambitious self-exhortation. The verdict is not pretty: "President Obama’s long-term fiscal strategy is to appoint a commission to figure out a long-term fiscal strategy."

In other words, while the government growth machine keeps churning out new ways of increasing the budget and deficit -- to the tune of 77.2% of the G.D.P. by 2020! -- the rhetoric of the State of the Union can be seen as nothing short of hoodwinking.

Lastly, I am delighted to see the NYT publishing this crucially important criticism.

"Whats Sustainable About This Budget?" by M. Gregory Mankiw

Judith

2010-02-12T16:04:00.009-06:00

The snow left campus in a bit of a funk yesterday. We opened up the mailroom at 10am, but most of the university's classes were cancelled and the students (and staff) were restless. Though the work day was abbreviated to 6 hours -- blessed be God! -- those 6 hours were some of the longest of my tenure in the mailroom. I therefore sought something exciting to captivate my otherwise fluttering attention. I browsed the Old Testament. Almost settling on 1 Samuel since we just went through 1 and 2 Samuel in the daily readings at Mass, I happened upon Judith. "O yes, Judith! That will captivate me!"

I gobbled up king Nebuchadnezzar's boasts of divinity and lordship over the earth, and eagerly devoured his chief general Holofernes' reaffirmations. Then, Judith -- the title heroin -- entered, and I received from her blessed lips the Word of God:

Context: The Army of the Persian King Nebuchadnezzer is beseiging a boarder city of Israel. They have cut off the city's water supply and the people are on the point of death. The city officials have just given into the thirsty mob and promised that if God does not save them in 5 days, they will turn the city over to the Persians. For which lack of faith Judith reproaches the officials.

"And who are you that tempt the Lord? 12 This is not a word that may draw down mercy, but rather that may stir up wrath, and enkindle indignation. 13 You have set a time for the mercy of the Lord, and you have appointed him a day, according to your pleasure. 14 But forasmuch as the Lord is patient, let us be penitent for this same thing, and with many tears let us beg his pardon: 15 For God will not threaten like man, nor be inflamed to anger like the son of man. 16 And therefore let us humble our souls before him, and continuing in an humble spirit, in his service: 17 Let us ask the Lord with tears, that according to his will so he would show his mercy to us: that as our heart is troubled by their pride, so also we may glorify in our humility. 18 For we have not followed the sins of our fathers, who forsook their God, and worshipped strange gods. 19 For which crime they were given up to their enemies, to the sword, and to pillage, and to confusion: but we know no other God but him. 20 Let us humbly wait for his consolation, and the Lord our God will require our blood of the afflictions of our enemies, and he will humble all the nations that shall rise up against us, and bring them to disgrace. 21 And now, brethren, as you are the ancients among the people of God, and their very soul rests upon you: comfort their hearts by your speech, that they may be mindful how our fathers were tempted that they might be proved, whether they worshipped their God truly. 22 They must remember how our father Abraham was tempted, and being proved by many tribulations, was made the friend of God. 23 So Isaac, so Jacob, so Moses, and all that have pleased God, passed through many tribulations, remaining faithful. 24 But they that did not receive the trials with the fear of the Lord, but uttered their impatience and the reproach of their murmuring against the Lord, 25 were destroyed by the destroyer, and perished by serpents. 26 As for us therefore let us not revenge ourselves for these things which we suffer. 27 But esteeming these very punishments to be less than our sins deserve, let us believe that these scourges of the Lord, with which like servants we are chastised, have happened for our amendment, and not for our destruction. (8:11-27).

Blessed be God!

For those of you unfamiliar with the book, I highly recommend it. I finished the rest in bed last night. A captivating read to be sure, it is a very inspiring tale of courage, faith, and adventure. As a teaser I've included a portrait from the decisive scene.

Great Pro-life Video

2010-02-11T17:22:00.005-06:00

This pro-life video makes the seemingly obvious but so oft ignored point: no individual would be here if they'd been killed by abortion. None of us. And for anyone younger than Roe v. Wade that is a distinct possibility. Once you get born, the commonest cause of death until adulthood has been avoided.

The article I posted about a few days ago made this similar point: there is much of a generation that has been snuffed out before it ever got to live -- especially in the African American community, where abortion rates are disproportionately high. Who might those men and women have been? What amazing things might they have done? What a tragic and stunning thought...

Snow in Big D

2010-02-11T10:04:00.007-06:00

This morning we awoke to a veritable winter wonderland! This was the first time that we've had legitimate snow since we came down to Texas. Its hard to tell from the pictures, but we have about 2-3 inches of accumulation. As I was walking back from the gym around 7:40 some kids came bursting out of one of the dorms to play in it. And, to take these just now, I had to risk getting pelted by errant snowballs from the massive snowball war taking place on the mall -- the lengths that I go to for this blog...

Enjoy!

Update: We should be getting up to 6 inches! The university is closing at 3:00pm today and will be reopening after 10:00am tomorrow!

Only in Chicago...

2010-02-09T08:55:00.005-06:00

Only in Chicago would the major paper run a full length sports-related interview with the ousted governor, awaiting trial for attempting to sell a U.S. senate seat. Whatever his many, many, many, many, many faults, two traits that Rod Blagojevich does not lack are an insane (perhaps literally) amount of self-confidence and a larger than life personality. Unfortunately, he's not a White Sox fan...

The hilarious interview discusses the parallel and seemingly intertwined fates of Blago and Cubs. You can't make this stuff up people.

A few hilarious quotes:

*"Next year is going to be a better one for both me and the Cubs. I expect big years from both me and the Cubs in 2010 -- both of us are going to have winning years."

*"There are lessons from baseball. Lessons in leadership. Baseball is a metaphor for life in so many ways. There's always tomorrow. One day you win, another day you lose."

*"I was sitting in box seats at the time and, by the way, I paid for those tickets myself."

*"I tried to make the case that the Cubs were doing so good because I was the governor. Look at my record as governor, and look at the Cubs, right? Last year we both got hijacked. I had a worse year than the Cubs."

Thanks, Rod, for stickin' around to make sure we still have something to laugh about. Priceless.

As one commentor put it, "Rod, wearing his crown of ineptitude." Sadly, a most apt description.

Black History Month

2010-02-08T10:53:00.006-06:00

I happened to checkout the First Things blog today, which I seldom do since we subscribe to the print edition, and found a dandy of an article about Black History, President Obama, and civil rights. The piece is by Lawrence D. Hogan, a professor of black history at Union County College. He makes the wonderful, and what ought to be obvious, point that the true principal of the civil rights movement -- advocacy for the civil rights of the marginalized in our society -- simply cannot possibly include support of abortion.

I know that Mr. Hogan's thesis cannot be popular with many of his peers in higher education, for whom the election of the first African-American President seems to have trumped the glaring civil rights problem of electing a president whose positions of exploitation and destruction of the weakest and most vulnerable among us -- the unborn -- are a glaring denial of the most basic of civil right, the right to life. As Mr. Hogan so aptly put it, "A persistent voice sounds a warning that demands to be heeded: 'Never side with those who do cross the line [of objectifying the weak among us].' That “never side” warning was deepened as I studied and read and taught and wrote about so many places in history where an awful price was paid by those who were categorized and denied—and by those who did the categorizing and denying."

So, this Black History Month, let us celebrate the progress made by our society in moving beyond legislated racial discrimination; and let us celebrate the heroes who effected this great and much needed change. But, taking our cue from the likes of Frederick Douglas, let us demand with the same urgency and tenacity the equal rights of all under the Constitution of this great country, irrespective of color, creed, age or size.

A Response to a Question

2010-02-03T10:15:00.004-06:00

Yesterday one of my student workers and I were chatting during the late afternoon doldrums and he asked, "So, what do you do now that you're done with school?" The irony of the question, of course, was that I was sitting at my desk at work as he asked me that question. (I work fulltime, my friend, did you forget?) Though, I knew the real essence of his question was about all that 'free' time that I now have.

I hemmed and hawed about a response, before realizing that I do more or less what I've been doing for the past 4 years, except that I don't go to class and I don't turn papers or take tests. I go to work for 40 hours a week like most people do; I Enjoy my evenings and weekends with Stephanie and our friends; I fill my spare time with reading, Mass, working out/Frisbee, cooking/eating, games and conversation.

And yet, this innocent inquiry also somehow managed to provoke in me those primordial human questions: what am I doing here? What am I doing with my life? Why?

I think, in a sense, what defines a person is how they go about answering these questions -- in their formulation of a verbal response, but even moreso in their actual lived out response.

Last Sunday the second reading at Mass was from I Corinthians 12-13, which is St Paul's great hymn to love. That chapter (13), as many of you know, was Gramps' favorite chapter in Scripture; I read from it and talked about it in relation to his life at his funeral. So, needless to say, it has profound resonance with me. But, as Fr Rudy preached about love it dawned on me that true love provides for an utterly simple and yet utterly profound response to those questions that were raised in my mind (and moreso in my heart).

"If we have not love we are a clanging gongs or clashing cymbals." As Fr Rudy pointed out, the Christian vocation is to bear witness to our Faith with our lives, with selfless, Christ-like love. The Christian vocation is to be conformed to Christ by living like him -- by being filled with his spirit. We are the branches, He is the vine; we grow and bear fruit by employing his vitality, his grace. This is the crux of Paul's message in the whole of his letter: "If you are Christians, O Corinthian church, why aren't you acting like it? Why aren't you living out your voaction?" Or to put it differently, "Do you not realize that none of your religiosity matters if you throw grace away, living like the pagans you once were only under the guise of Christianity?"

Several times in the last few months I've been presented with the question, 'are you living life like you want to become a saint?' After all, becoming saints is the Christian vocation. Its easy to be mislead into preconceptions of what a saint should or shouldn't be and do: 'a saint should pray five hours a day and a saint shouldn't watch football.' But these categories, of course, fall short. The real question of sanctity, as St. Paul so beautifully illustrates, is love. Do I love God more than myself? Do I love God more than all the attachments of my will to earthly things. Do I honestly prefer God's will to my will?

These questions demand concrete, lived out responses, not just fuzzy reminisces of childhood prayers and sunday school songs and a lifetime of good intentions and good will. That's why the penitential seasons of Lent and Advent are so important for us. They are special seasons of the liturgical year in which we test ourselves and our wills; our 40 days in route to the Promised Land in which God helps strip us of our old Egyptian ways and retrains our eyes on Himself in all things.

So, to answer your question, my young friend, I'm trying to become a saint, in my own humble, awkward, often faltering way.

Happy Groundhog Day!

2010-02-02T09:39:00.002-06:00

Did you know, gentle Lector, that the origin of "Groundhog Day" is an ancient German Christian tradition in which on the feast of Candlemas (now more commonly known as the Feast of the Presentation -- Luke 2:22-40) if a hibernating animal saw its shadow it would return to hibernation for another six weeks, meaning six more weeks of winter, but if conversely he did not see his shadow, he'd stay out and everyone would enjoy an early spring. The custom, brought to Pennsylvania by the same Germans, has grown in popularity as our culture has grown more secular, filling its need for Holy Days with secular "Holidays", and the religious customs of Candlemas have all but disappeared.

Irregardless, a happy Groundhog Day to you all. Sadly, that 'Seer of Seers, that Prognosticator of Prognosticators' saw his shadow and all my friends and family in the North must endure, at least according to Phil, six more weeks of winter.

Without further adieu here are some of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies, Groundhog Day:

5. [After Phil has driven the truck he has stolen off a cliff to kill both himself and Punxsutawney Phil]

Larry: He... might be okay.

[The truck explodes in a fireball]

Larry: Well, no. Probably not now.

4. Rita: You speak French?

Phil: Oui.

3. Phil: When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

2. You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.

1. Piano Teacher: Not bad... Mr. Connors, you say this is your first lesson?

Phil: Yes, but my father was a piano *mover*, so...

(Quotes courtesy of IMDB.COM)

Some Somewhat Disjointed Thoughts on Conversion, etc.

2010-01-21T12:06:00.004-06:00

My sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence from the blogosphere -- holiday travels and a busy spell at work have conspired to keep me either occupied or away from my computer.

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Resultant upon a conversation that I had with some family while we were home for the holidays, I've been thinking recently about religious conversion. Many Christians, of all denominational stripes, tend to think of conversion as a one time event -- whether that event be sacramental baptism or 'accepting Jesus as your Lord and Savior'. However, experience tells us that conversion is not nearly so simple. We do not come to believe or get reborn in baptism and then suddenly lead holy and virtuous lives. Rather, conversion is indeed an ongoing process.

Some very kind friends gave me Thomas Merton's autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain for Christmas this year, and much to my delight he spends much time treating this very subject.

Remembering the day of his baptism, Merton realized that he had assumed that, with this sacramental and supernatural event having taken place, he could go on living as he always had provided that he avoid serious sin. He came to find out that conversion entails so much more.

Conversion is literally a turning towards, which of course implies a turning away from. It doesn't mean that we turn away from the world altogether; rather, just that we no longer engage it with the same eyes, the same ears, or the same hands, etc; or to use a Pauline notion, that we understand things not with the 'wisdom of the world' but with the 'Wisdom of the Cross'. This engagement is both intellectual and volitional -- it means reshaping our wills in the image of Christ.

Experience tells us that this is very much a process, indeed a lifelong one at that. We might be misled into thinking that intellectual conversion is tantamount to a total conversion; but, what folly we engage in in doing so! Our wills, though flooded with the grace sufficient for reformation and the intellectual knowledge of the noble grounds for doing so, are still habitual.

"But I did not clearly realize all this," Merton remembers. "Because of the profound and complete conversion of my intellect, I thought I was entirely converted. Because I believed in God, and in the teachings of the Church, and was prepared to sit up all night arguing about them with all comers, I imagined that I was even a zealous Christian."

As I read about his baptism and entry into the Catholic Church -- that is, his 'conversion' -- it helped me to see the same assumptions in my own conversion(s).

It had struck me as a bit odd the first time I heard Fr Maguire (during the petitions at Mass) pray for the deeper conversion of ourselves -- assuming that by 'ourselves' he referred chiefly to the likes of me and not to the likes of him. But, I've since realized that even saintly Christians are ever in a process of conversion, of turning the gaze of their hearts and minds more and more solely on the Christ who animates and vivifies them.

A further wrinkle is that this process (which is tantamount to growth in virtue -- both theological and natural) is the only way for us to find true happiness:

"Without [the virtues] there can be no happiness, because virtues are precisely the powers by which we can come to acquire happiness: without them, there can be no joy, because they are the habits which coordinate and canalize our natural energies and direct them to the harmony and perfection and balance, the unity of our nature with itself and with God, which must, in the end, constitute our everlasting peace."

So, 'Let us pray for the ever deeper conversion of ourselves!'

Can Our Age Be Redeemed? We've Been Here Before; Or, Reasons for Hope

2009-12-15T09:26:00.004-06:00

In discussing various ills that presently beset our culture with a friend the other day, we both grew overwhelmed and found ourselves honestly asking, 'can our culture be redeemed, or have these plagues taken such a firm root as to be intractable?'

The other night, needing a break from my usual non-fiction evening reading, I turned to GKC's The Everlasting Man -- non-fiction though it may be, it is narrative in style, which is all I was really after. Having read the first few chapters several times before I skipped to the later chapters, settling upon one called the 'Five Deaths of Faith'. It recounts 5 instances in which the Faith, particularly the Catholic Faith, had appeared either dead or mortally wounded, only to be reborn yet again -- given new life by its ever reviviscent Principle:

"At least five times, therefore, with the Arian and the Albigensian, with the Humanist sceptic, after Voltaire and after Darwin, the Faith has to all appearance gone to the dogs. In each of these five cases it was the dog that died. How complete was the collapse and how strange the reversal we can only see in detail in the case nearest to our own time."

In discussing the renaissance that was the Oxford Movement in England, Chesterton notes:

"A thousand things have been said about the Oxford Movement and the parallel French Catholic revival; but few have made us feel the simplest fact about it; that it was a surprise. It was a puzzle as well as a surprise; because it seemed to most people like a river turning backwards from the sea and trying to climb back into the mountains. To have read the literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is to know that nearly everybody had come to take it for granted that religion was a thing that would continually broaden like a river, till it reached an infinite sea. Some of them expected it to go down in a cataract of catastrophe, most of them expected it to widen into an estuary of equality and moderation; but all of them thought its returning on itself a prodigy as incredible as witchcraft. In other words, most moderate people thought that faith like freedom would be slowly broadened down, and some advanced people thought that it would be very rapidly broadened down, not to say flattened out. All that world of Guizot and Macaulay and the commercial and scientific liberality was perhaps more certain than any men before or since about the direction in which the world is going. People were so certain about the direction that they only differed about the pace. Many anticipated with alarm, and a few with sympathy, a Jacobin revolt that should guillotine the Archbishop of Canterbury or a Chartist riot that should hang the parsons on the lampposts. But it seemed like a convulsion in nature that the Archbishop instead of losing his head should be looking for his mitre; and that instead of diminishing the respect due to parsons we should strengthen it to the respect due to priests. It revolutionised their very vision of revolution; and turned their very topsyturveydom topsyturvey."

And, more generally,

"In short, the whole world being divided about whether the stream was going slower or faster, became conscious of something vague but vast that was going against the stream. Both in fact and figure there is something deeply disturbing about this, and that for an essential reason. A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it. A dead dog can be lifted on the leaping water with all the swiftness of a leaping hound; but only a live dog can swim backwards. A paper boat can ride the rising deluge with all the airy arrogance of a fairy ship, but if the fairy ship sails up stream it is really rowed by the fairies. And among the things that merely went with the tide of apparent progress and enlargement there was many a demagogue or sophist whose wild gestures were in truth as lifeless as the movement of a dead dog's limbs wavering in the eddying water; and many a philosophy uncommonly like a paper boat, of the sort that it is not difficult to knock into a cocked hat. But even the truly living and even life-giving things that went with that stream did not thereby prove that they were living or life-giving. It was this other force that was unquestionably and unaccountably alive; the mysterious and unmeasured energy that was thrusting back the river. That was felt to be like the movement of some great monster; and it was none the less clearly a living monster because most people thought it a prehistoric monster. It was none the less an unnatural, an incongruous, and to some a comic upheaval; as if the Great Sea Serpent had suddenly risen out of the Round Pond--unless we consider the Sea Serpent as more likely to live in the Serpentine. This flippant element in the fantasy must not be missed, for it was one of the clearest testimonies to the unexpected nature of the reversal. That age did really feel that a preposterous quality in prehistoric animals belonged also to historic rituals; that mitres and tiaras were like the horns or crests of antediluvian creatures; and that appealing to a Primitive Church was like dressing up as a Primitive Man.

"The world is still puzzled by that movement; but most of all because it still moves. I have said something elsewhere of the rather random sort of reproaches that are still directed against it and its much greater consequences; it is enough to say here that the more such critics reproach it the less they explain it. In a sense it is my concern here, if not to explain it, at least to suggest the direction of the explanation; but above all, it is my concern to point out one particular thing about it. And that is that it had all happened before; and even many times before.

"To sum up, in so far as it is true that recent centuries have seen an attenuation of Christian doctrine, recent centuries have only seen what the most remote centuries have seen. And even the modern example has only ended as the medieval and pre-medieval examples ended. It is already clear, and grows clearer every day, that it is not going to end in the disappearance of the diminished creed; but rather in the return of those parts of it that had really disappeared. It is going to end as the Arian compromise ended, as the attempts at a compromise with Nominalism and even with Albigensianism ended. But the point to seize in the modern case, as in all the other cases is that what returns is not in that sense a simplified theology; not according to that view a purified theology; it is simply theology. It is that enthusiasm for theological studies that marked the most doctrinal ages; it is the divine science. An old Don with D. D. after his name may have become the typical figure of a bore; but that was because he was himself bored with his theology, not because he was excited about it. It was precisely because he was admittedly more interested in the Latin of Plautus than in the Latin of Augustine, in the Greek of Xenophon than in the Greek of Chrysostom. It was precisely because he was more interested in a dead tradition than in a decidedly living tradition. In short, it was precisely because he was himself a type of the time in which Christian faith was weak. It was not because men would not hail, if they could, the wonderful and almost wild vision of a Doctor of Divinity."

Feast Day Hopes

2009-12-09T11:13:00.004-06:00

It was my hope and my prayer yesterday that on the Feast Day of Mary's Immaculate Conception our Senate would act in defense of all conceived life and pass the anti-abortion funding amendment to the health care bill. But, alas, there was no such courageous response to the grace that surely was given in response to the prayers of the nation.

However, there is still hope that our government will not act against the will of the people and the certain Will of God. Keep praying, dear friends. And, especially if you haven't yet, write, call or at least email your senators demanding that they act in accord with the will of their constituents and in defense of all human life!

The Pivotal Case of Congressman Kennedy

2009-12-02T09:05:00.003-06:00

This link will take you to a letter written by Bishop Thomas J. Tobin of Providence, RI. In my mind, it represents a huge step forward in understanding, with clarity, what exactly it means to be a Catholic in public life.

+ + + + + + +

Being a Catholic used to mean something very specific: you were baptised, confirmed, went to Mass at least every Sunday, and to confession regularly; it meant you believed what the Church professed; you respected and admired your priests and bishop. Today the meaning is a bit murkier.

Abp. Tobin's dialogue with rep. Kennedy has been telling. It was, in my opinion, another Kennedy, John F. Kennedy, who paved the way for Catholics in the political sphere (and perhaps in personal life) to disavow Church teaching when finding it to be politically expedient. In a campaign speech in Houston, Kennedy promised that his faith (and 'the pope' himself) would not interfere with his presidency. That his policy would be uninformed by his Catholic morality. In so promising Kennedy essentially founded the era of utter secularism in politics:

"I believe in an America that is neither Catholic, Protestant nor Jewish--where no public official either requests or accepts instructions on public policy from the Pope, the National Council of Churches or any other ecclesiastical source--where no religious body seeks to impose its will directly or indirectly upon the general populace or the public acts of its officials--and where religious liberty is so indivisible that an act against one church is treated as an act against all...

"But let me stress again that these are my views--for contrary to common newspaper usage, I am not the Catholic candidate for President. I am the Democratic Party's candidate for President who happens also to be a Catholic. I do not speak for my church on public matters--and the church does not speak for me.

"Whatever issue may come before me as President--on birth control, divorce, censorship, gambling or any other subject--I will make my decision in accordance with these views, in accordance with what my conscience tells me to be the national interest, and without regard to outside religious pressures or dictates. And no power or threat of punishment could cause me to decide otherwise."

+ + + + + + +

In my mind, we can thank JFK and Mario Cuomo and their ilk in the 60's, 70's and 80's for making necessary such an embarrassingly obvious rebuke from a bishop to a U.S. Congressman:

"But let’s get down to a more practical question; let’s approach it this way: What does it mean, really, to be a Catholic? After all, being a Catholic has to mean something, right? Well, in simple terms – and here I refer only to those more visible, structural elements of Church membership – being a Catholic means that you’re part of a faith community that possesses a clearly defined authority and doctrine, obligations and expectations. It means that you believe and accept the teachings of the Church, especially on essential matters of faith and morals; that you belong to a local Catholic community, a parish; that you attend Mass on Sundays and receive the sacraments regularly; that you support the Church, personally, publicly, spiritually and financially.

Congressman, I’m not sure whether or not you fulfill the basic requirements of being a Catholic, so let me ask: Do you accept the teachings of the Church on essential matters of faith and morals, including our stance on abortion? Do you belong to a local Catholic community, a parish? Do you attend Mass on Sundays and receive the sacraments regularly? Do you support the Church, personally, publicly, spiritually and financially?

In your letter you say that you “embrace your faith.” Terrific. But if you don’t fulfill the basic requirements of membership, what is it exactly that makes you a Catholic? Your baptism as an infant? Your family ties? Your cultural heritage?"

+ + + + + + +

Along the same lines, below is an extended quotation from Abp. Chaput's book, Render Unto Caesar: Serving the nation by Living Our Catholic Beliefs in Political Life. In this passage Chaput asks the question, in gaining access to the upper echelons of society and political power, what have Catholics gained? Have they bettered society and the state? Have they furthered the protection of the dignity of all life from conception to natural death? Have they really bettered the treatment of the poorest and most vulnerable? Chaput answers this question with an emphatic 'no.'

In a later chapter Chaput advises, the only step toward progress is to be better Christians -- to actually live lives transformed by a truly Catholic faith. He holds up St Thomas More as the perfect example of the power (and the danger) of being a follower of Christ in the public sphere.

"Avery Dulles, the American Jesuit theologian and cardinal, once wrote that 'the greatest danger facing the Church in our country today is that of an excessive and indiscreet accommodation.' I agree. And if we want to to know what needs to be done today to best serve our country as Catholics, we can start by admitting that the cultural and political assumptions of the Catholic Church in the United States over the last forty years have largely failed. These failures have weakened the spiritual identity of many Catholics. They have also rendered the American Catholic witness to the Gospel partial and unsure. And they have left our nation without a credible alternative to a way of life that every day seems to grow more remote from the Christian ideal.

"This is tall talk, and claims like these need justification. Many would argue that the postwar era has seen huge success for Catholics as they finally arrived in the American mainstream after two hundred years of discrimination. Numbering 69 million today, Catholics make up nearly one-quarter of the total American population.

"Economically and socially, Catholics have climbed out of the cultural ghetto and have solidly rooted themselves in the middle and upper-middle classes. By some counts, more than 150 Catholics now serve in Congress, including a quarter of all U.S. senators. A majority of U.S. Supreme Court justices... are also Catholic.

"Yet we can fairly ask: What difference has it made? What impact have these Catholic gains really had on American public life? We can point to many individual successes and examples of forceful Catholic witness. But American culture is not noticeably more ethical or upright. Nor can we argue that America's public square is more informed by the spirit of the Gospel.

"Traces of our country's Christian origins remain visible. Americans are broadly a people of faith who value religion, fair play, and common decency. Most Americans are generous and capable of great sacrifices for others, both at home and abroad. Americans have a genuine respect for human rights, freedom, and the rule of law. Catholics share all these traits with their fellow citizens.

"Yet there is another America; a kind of dark mirror image of our ideals and self-understanding. This is an America of ethnic and racial injustice, selfishness, consumer greed, and careerism, where popular culture grows increasingly brutish and vulgar. This is an America where half of all marriages end in divorce, where four of every ten children are born out of wedlock, and roughly a million more children are killed each year in the womb. Millions are forgotten and left behind by poverty in this America. Religion is increasingly belittled in the political conversation in this America, and this conversation itself has grown uncivil, indifferent, and unreasoned. Finally, in this America, ordinary citizens show a growing cynicism about the future of our common life together.

"Again: What difference do Catholics really make? American bishops have not lacked a civic voice. Since the 1970's, the nations bishops have offered their moral counsel on issues ranging from civil rights to abortion, to war and peace, to immigration and economic justice.

"But the negative trends in American public life have continued..."

The Intellectual Vocation

2009-11-24T08:28:00.002-06:00

I'm reading through a book Called The Intellectual Life: Its Spirit, Conditions, and Methods, by a Dominican named A.D. Sertillanges. Written in the first half of the 20th Century, it's style is rather formal for our ears, but nevertheless wonderfully clear and beautiful.

I thought I'd share a few paragraphs that I read last night, which I found particularly inspiring, especially as a young scholar:

"You, young man... to whom the heroes of the mind seem mysteriously to beckon, but who fear to lack the necessary means, listen to me. Have you two hours a day? Can you undertake to keep them jealously, to use them ardently, and then, being of those who have authority in the Kingdom of God, can you drink the chalice of which these pages would wish to make you savor the exquisite and bitter taste? If so have confidence. Nay, rest in quiet certainty.

If you are compelled to earn your living, at least you will earn it without sacrificing, as so many do, the liberty of your soul. If you are alone, you will but be more violently thrown back on your noble purposes. Most great men followed some calling. Many have declared that the two hours I postulate suffice for an intellectual career. Learn to make the best use of that limited time; plunge every day of your life into the spring which quenches and yet ever renews your thirst.

Do you want to have a humble share in perpetuating wisdom amongst men, in gathering up the inheritance of the ages, in formulating the rules of the mind for the present time, in discovering facts and causes, in turning men's wandering eyes towards first causes and their hearts towards supreme ends, in reviving if necessary some dying flame, in organizing the propagation of truth and goodness? That is the lot reserved for you. It is surely worth a little extra sacrifice; it is worth steadily pursuing with jealous passion.

The study and practice of what Pere Gratry calls Living Logic, that is, the development of our mind, the human word, by contact direct or indirect with the Spirit and the Divine Word -- that serious study and persevering practice will give you entry into the wondrous sanctuary. You will be of those who grow, who enrich themselves, and who make ready to receive magnificent gifts. You too, one day, if God so wills, will have a place in the assembly of noble minds."

In our democratic age, it is tempting to treat of the intellectual life with an egalitariamism that would humble the intellectual life, shaming it as a final vestige of the aristocratic ages we used to know. But every vocation, whether to a craft or trade, to an art or skill is a calling to serve God and our fellow men; of the many vocations, that of the intellectual is just as valid, if not even moreso, since our reason is, of course, our noblest faculty.

So, with master Sertillanges I exhort you, my friend, press on! Dust off that Plato or Plutarch, that Newman or Newton, that Cicero or Cervantes and glorify God with the working of your mind!

Facebook, "Social-Networking", Etc

2009-11-23T15:50:00.003-06:00

Greetings, Lector!

If you are up-to-date with things technological and hip, you will be wondering why I have left Facebook (again). Well, my reasons were many; allow me to depart from our normally easy and conversational style to shoot off a few bullet points:

*It wastes my time
*It tends to be used in excedingly vain ways
*"Social Networking" is obnoxious

So, if any of you 'miss' your old 'friend', I suggest you try contacting me via one of the myriad other more traditional options -- though I highly commend to you actual, physical letters.

Yours,

Auctor

MCHS Band Video

2009-11-12T22:01:00.002-06:00

I posted a link to a Tribune article about my high school band, but here's a video that's pretty much the same as the article. Enjoy!

Autumn Leaves

2009-11-12T06:10:00.002-06:00

For some reason we're actually experiencing something like 'fall' here in Big D this year, much to my delight! Yesterday, after some doctor-related activities up in Denton, we spent the afternoon walking around the lovely Denton, TX down-town. The air was really fresh and clear. The breeze had a hint of coolness but the sun was still very warm. It was probably 65-ish in the shade and 70+ in the sun.

The historic town-center features a pretty good used book store, which we probably spent at least an hour in. In addition to a few antique-stores, some restaurants, coffee houses, a candy shoppe and several other unique stores, there is a series of general-store 'malls'. These are comprised of booths filled with junk sold at a premium, but trust me they're not likely to run out anytime soon.

Getting back to this post's foliage focus, I've noticed more and more trees this year turning color and losing their leaves. There is one in particular on my way to work that I love walking past every day, monitoring its autumnal transformation. In fact, its not on my fastest route, but I take it anyways, the observation worth the extra 45 seconds (approximately a 15% increase in my commute time). It started changing slowly but is into a bright yellow already. The odd thing about Texas trees is that several of the tree varieties don't ever change colors, they just lose their leaves (seemingly) at random at various times throughout the year.

Sowell on the 'Costs' of Health Care

2009-11-09T16:32:00.001-06:00

Clear, concise insight -- as always.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Catholic Social Thought

2009-11-09T12:22:00.003-06:00

I spent much of this morning compiling a single word document with all the key Magisterial documents regarding social teaching, namely:

*Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum
*Pius XI’s Quadragesimo Anno
*John XXIII’s Mater et Magistra
*John XXIII’s Pacem in Terris
*Paul VI’s Populorum Progressio
*Paul VI’s Octogesima Adveniens
*John Paul II’s Laborem Exercens
*John Paul II’s Sollicitudo Rei Socialis
*John Paul II’s Centesimus Annus
*Benedict XVI’s Caritas in Veritate

If anyone is interested in a readily printable collection of these texts (taken from the Vatican website), I'd be happy to email you the pdf file. Just let me know.

I have only read snippets of a few of these so far, but hope to spend the coming months dedicating my studies to these ten texts, and the works a few guides.

Cheers!

Marching Band

2009-11-09T07:43:00.002-06:00

Most of you know that I was in marching band in high school, but here's a link to a neat story in the Chicago Tribune about what made (and continues to make) our band special.

Composure

2009-11-04T15:40:00.004-06:00

This, from Romano Guardini's Meditations Before Mass, will be well-applied to the spiritual lives of Christians of any stripe:

In the religious life silence is seldom discussed alone. Sooner or later its companion, composure, demands attention. Silence overcomes noise and talk; composure is the victory over distractions and unrest. Silence is the quiet of a person who could be talking; composure is the vital, dynamic unity of an individual who could be divided by his surroundings, tossed to and fro by the myriad happenings of every day.

What then do we mean by composure? As a rule, a man's attention is broken into a thousand fragments by the variety of things and persons about him. His mind is restless; his feelings seek objects that are constantly changing; his desires reach out for one thing after another; his will is captured by a thousand intentions, often conflicting. He is harried, torn, self-contradictory.

Composure works in the opposite direction, rescuing man's attention from the sundry objects holding it captive and restoring unity to his spirit.

It frees his mind from its many tempting claims and focuses it on one, the all-important. It calls the soul that is dispersed over myriad thoughts and desires, plans and intentions back to itself, re-establishing its depth.

All things seem to disquiet man. The phenomena of nature intrigue him; they attract and bind. But because they are natural they have a calming, collecting influence as well. It is much the same with those realities that make up human existence: encounter and destiny, work and pleasure, sickness and accident, life and death. All make their demands on man, crowding him in and overwhelming him; but they also give him earnestness and weight.

What is genuinely disastrous is the disorder and artificiality of present-day existence. We are constantly stormed by violent and chaotic impressions. At once powerful and superficial, they are soon exhausted, only to be replaced by others. They are immoderate and disconnected, the one contradicting, disturbing, and obstructing the other. At every step we find ourselves in the claws of purposes and cross-purposes that inveigle and trick us. Everywhere we are confronted by advertising that attempts to force upon us things we neither want nor really need. We are constantly lured from the important and profound to the distracting, 'interesting,' piquant.

This state of affairs exists not only around but within us. To a large extent man lives without depth, without a center, in superficiality and chance. No longer finding the essential within himself, he grabs at all sorts of stimulants and sensations; he enjoys them briefly, tires of them, recalls his own emptiness and demands new distractions. He touches everything brought within easy reach of his mind by the constantly increasing means of transportation, information, education, and amusement; but he doesn't really absorb anything. He contents himself with having heard about it; he labels it with some current catchword, and shoves it aside for the next. He is a hollow man and tries to fill his emptiness with constant, restless activity. He is happiest when in the thick of things, in the rush and noise and stimulus of quick results and successes. The moment quietness surrounds him, he is lost.

This state makes itself felt generally: in the religious life, in Church services, [anywhere he is faced with quietude]. Constant unrest is one of its earmarks. Then there is much gazing about... reaching for this or that, fingering apparel, coughing, and throat-clearing. Even when behavior remains outwardly controlled, an inner restlessness is clearly evident in the way people sing, listen, respond -- in their whole bearing. They are not really present; they do not vitally fill the room and hour: they are not composed.

Composure is more than freedom from scattered impressions and occupations. It is something positive; it is life in its full depth and power. Left to itself, life will always turn outward toward the multiplicity of things and events, and this natural inclination must be counterbalanced. Consider, for a moment, the nature of respiration. It has two directions: outward and inward. Both are vital; each is part of this elementary function of life; neither is all of it. The living organism that only exhaled or only inhaled would soon suffocate. Composure is the spiritual man's 'inhalation,' by which, from deep within, he collects his scattered self and returns to his center.

Only the composed person is really someone. Only he can be seriously addressed as one capable of replying. Only he is genuinely affected by what life brings him, for he alone is awake, aware. And he is not only wide awake in the superficial sense of being quick to see and grab his advantage -- this is a watchfulness shared also by birds and ants. What we mean is true awareness: that inner knowledge of the essential; that ability to make responsible decisions; sensitivity, readiness, and keenness.

Comps

2009-10-23T11:10:00.002-05:00

Auctor: Well, gentle Lector, we did it.

Lector: What is it that we have accomplished?

Auctor: We, my friend, which is to say I with the help of all your constant encouragement and support -- passed the oral portion of my comprehensive exams last night!

Lector: Ah! Well done, us!

Auctor: Thus, the question becomes, what does one do having concluded his Masters in Theology?

Lector: The obvious choice would be teaching... Would it not?

Auctor: Aye. It would.

Lector: Well?

Love

2009-10-23T11:09:00.000-05:00

"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket -- safe, dark, motionless, airless -- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." -- C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Notes on Chalcedon

2009-10-21T13:29:00.002-05:00

Just typed this up this morning in case I get asked about Chalcedon at my oral comps tomorrow (4:30-5:30pm -- pray for me!). Figured why not pass it along to you, gentle Lector!

The Council of Chalcedon, 451 AD, followed closely upon the Council of Ephesus (431) and the historic compromise between John of Antioch and St. Cyril of Alexandria in 433. All three of these events are predicated upon the theological tension between the schools of Antioch and Alexandria.

Alexandria based its Christology on the formulation of Christ as Logos and Sarx, which served to emphasize his ontological unity in the one subject of the Word. On the other hand, Antioch based its notion on the formulation of Christ as Logos and Anthropos, which served to emphasize the duality of Christ’s two natures. Both of these emphases saw sound (John and Cyril) and unsound portrayals (Nestorius and Eutychus).

The Alexandrians (L/S) described Christ’s unity as a hypostasis (individual), while the Antiochenes, as a prosopon (manifestation). Both used the term phusis as well, but with very different meanings: Antioch, two natures; Alexandria, subject or being.

At Ephesus, the Cyrilian formulation was taken up and proclaimed dogma – that Christ is one subject, the Eternal word made man – hypostasis, not merely a manifestation (prosopon). The council consequently also upheld the Marian title of Theotokos. The Cyrilian formulation, ignoring the expressions of Antioch, alienated the Antiochene bishops and the two schools subsequently published mutual excommunications.

Two years later, Cyril and John of Antioch got together to work out a resolution between the two schools. This agreement, which anticipated the Chalcedonian decrees, posited that Christ is one subject (Ephesus), in two integral natures (Phuseis) the divine nature being consubstantial with God, and the human nature being consubstantial with us.

Despite the agreement between the heads of the two schools, a hardened, unbalanced version of the Cyrilian formulation, authored by Eutychus, the Abbot of a Constantinopolitan Monastery, spread throughout Eastern Christendom, necessitating the calling of the Council of Chalcedon. The Eutychan heresy, Monophysitism, posited that there were two physeis before the Incarnation, but the one subject in the Word absorbed the human physis at the Incarnation.

Making use of the virtues of both Antioch and Alexandria, Chalcedon taught squarely against Monophysitism, teaching that Christ had two integral natures, divine and human (consubstantial with God and with Man), united in one hypostasis and one prosopon. This teaching marked the first full synthesis of the Eastern schools, and also employed Western ideas of persona and naturae, courtesy of the influential Tome of Leo.

The council’s teaching, however was not complete, lacking a full understanding and explication of the dynamic relationship between the two natures. This lack came to influence Christology for generations to come – especially because those receiving the council’s teaching tended to treat it in isolation from the prior councils and the Creed they’d produced instead of as an explanation of one of its phrases: “The word was made flesh and dwelt among us”. Consequently, Christology was seen as something static, rather than dynamic – a huge problem for spirituality, as it was in the deification of Christ’s humanity at the Resurrection that our humanity can be divinized.

Justice

2009-10-12T09:59:00.002-05:00

My post-comps goal for the next few months, amongst a few others, is to figure out the proper ordering of a just society. My guides in this venture being (1) the social teachings of the Church, which is not to say the musings of Sister Mary Polyester Pants Suit, who thinks by legislating a democratic agenda we can bring about the Kingdom of God on earth -- taking her inspiration from the same 1970's milieu that begot Jesus Christ Superstar -- but rather the Catholic Social Teaching Tradition from Rerum Novarum down to B16's recent Caritas in Veritate; (2) Abp. Chaput; (3) Thomas Sowell.

Mid-Comps Post

2009-10-07T13:22:00.002-05:00

Well, I haven't posted in a couple weeks because I've been studying up a storm for comps, which by the way started this morning -- first test went fine -- so I figured what better time to post than now!

A few nights ago Stephanie and I were watching Saturday Night Football on ABC, which is one of our favorite past times, and I commented on how much Kirk Herbstreit (my favorite football broadcaster) looks like Michael Cuddyer (my favorite Minnesota Twin). Steph gave me the sort of 'yeah' that let me know I was reaching for one on that comparison. Well, I remembered the notion just now and thought I'd do a little google image research. The results were, well, you'll see. Separated at birth?

The Splendor of Summer

2009-09-22T08:34:00.004-05:00

The last week or so I've been treating myself to a re-reading of Kenneth Grahame's classic, The Wind in the Willows, which like any good children's literature is an absolutely delightful read for adults too.

In the third chapter, "The Wild Wood", through the reminisces of Rat and Mole, Grahame gives us a delightful ode to the splendor of the past summer:

"In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and rising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did other small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were always animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good deal of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and all its doings.

Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all! With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured! The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb, tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow. Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its place in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delaying dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if string-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a gavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was still awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom the ladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleeping summer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and odorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group, then the play was ready to begin.

And what a play it had been! Drowsy animals, snug in their holes while wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still keen mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yet undispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then the shock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radiant transformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was with them again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out of the earth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day, deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny golden shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the rambles along dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long, cool evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so many friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the morrow. There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when the animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good deal of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in his arm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over rhymes that wouldn't fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself and explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up an acquaintance with Mr. Badger."

The 50 Million What Might Have Beens...

2009-09-18T11:34:00.001-05:00

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Subject Matter

2009-09-15T00:36:00.002-05:00

Is it just me or have three of my last several posts been sports clips? Maybe that's because our world seems to be becoming more and more polarized politically and I'm just kind of tired of that.

Unreal

2009-09-14T09:18:00.002-05:00

In an age when professional athletes act like spoiled children (see Serena Williams profanity riddled breakdown on Saturday), Roger Federer provides us with an example of gentlemanly behavior and class.

Reaching yet another Grand Slam final on Sunday, he played a thrilling semi-final match against Novak Djokavich. Perhaps the most exciting play of which was this gem:

For Old Time's Sake

2009-09-03T09:40:00.002-05:00

Yes... Maybe... No, We Can't

2009-08-24T20:27:00.002-05:00

Things are trending toward the pessimistic side...

WOW

2009-08-14T22:47:00.003-05:00

So, I've been blown away by President Obama's ability to talk around questions (so did McCain during the campaign, to be fair), but Congresswoman Sheila Jackson-Lee makes him look like a pup. Kudos to the CNN reporter for actually trying to press the issue.

Prepare to be amazed...

Fort Worth, TX

2009-08-14T17:00:00.002-05:00

Texans Continue to Lead the Fight...

2009-08-05T15:54:00.004-05:00

Sen. John Cornyn of Texas, who promptly responded via email and letter to an email that I sent him a few weeks ago, is doing his state proud. Responding to a recent White House initiative that requested we citizens snitch on each other whenever we hear opinions antithetical and subversive Obama-care. Cheers to you, Senator Cornyn, and to your peers throughout Texas who boldly standing up for freedom!

While we're on the topic though, I would ask that no one report me to the president when I say that I think his socialist health care ambitions are naive, idealistic, and wrong-headed and that they will ultimately prove disastrous if he can cow us all into submission and implement them.

Hope

2009-08-04T15:03:00.003-05:00

Hope is an oft bandied about word these days. Its meaning, after certain abuses at the hands of popular culture, has perhaps been blurred. Thus, when I stumbled upon a beautiful definition of this, the second of the theological virtues, I found it to be particularly moving.

St. Gregory of Nyssa writes, "Hope always draws the soul from the beauty which is seen to what is beyond, always kindles the desire for the hidden through what is constantly perceived. Therefore the ardent lover of beauty, although receiving what is always visible as an image of what he desires, yet longs to be filled with the very stamp of the archetype.”

Thus, implied within the meaning of hope is a faith in transcendence beyond the material world. Thus, we can speak of 'the eyes of faith' seeing glimpses of the 'archetype' behind or beyond what is apparent. Thus, love is fueled by the reality which faith sees and hope longs for.

Hope is not a desire for something better, for progress, or for fulfilment. It is something much more than these earthly notions. It is a longing for the terminus of all progress, and the satiety of all filling and fulfilling.

Racism, Alive and Well...

2009-07-30T12:35:00.004-05:00

Having recently taught us about the continued problem of racism against blacks in this country, the President, who seems to fancy himself something of a philosopher king, -- through his appointees -- has decided to drop all charges against the three members of the New Black Panther Party pictured below.

What does this say about the problem of racism in our country?

It seems to be a bit problematic, to say the very least, when our president insults a white police officer for doing his job because it happened to involve a bellicose black man, and then turns around and pardons three belligerent Black Panthers who threatened whites with racial epithets and a night stick at a national election polling place.

All the grandiose rhetoric in his speech on race that feigned to soar above the fray of divisive 20th century racie politics, appears to have been just that: rhetoric. Rhetoric, the tool so easily perverted by the subtle man bent on achieving power. As ever, actions have spoken louder then words; and three militant racists have been released and an honest civil servant has been tainted and scorned. Disappointing.

See Washington Times article on reversal of charges.

Good Fun

2009-07-29T00:22:00.000-05:00

Global Warming.

Proud to Be a Texan

2009-07-25T14:30:00.001-05:00

Today, for the first time ever, I am proud to be a Texan. Here's why.

Re: "Health Care Reform"

2009-07-23T11:59:00.003-05:00

"Under the current Medicare system, a majority of doctors and hospitals that care for Medicare patients are paid substantially less than it costs to treat them. Many providers are therefore already approaching a point where they can not afford to see Medicare patients. Expansion of a Medicare-type plan without a method to define, measure, and pay for healthy outcomes for patients will move many doctors and hospitals across this threshold, and ultimately hurt the patients who seek our care. We should not put more Americans into the current unsustainable system."

This quote -- from an open letter sent by the heads of 14 highly esteemed medical centers (such as the Mayo Clinic) to the members of Congress -- points out the reality of situation that our Utopian-minded Congress has stubbornly ignored. The whole letter (only a page long) is very friendly, and yet very sober. When pursuing quantity on a massive, namely a 'universal' scale, quality will necessarily suffer. And quality is a pretty important aspect, when its health care you're talking about.

I have a less black and white opinion on this matter than I used to, because of some pretty difficult questions I've encountered. But, nevertheless, rushing into something so enormous and so incredibly complicated is preposterous. I am deeply disturbed by what can only be either unbelievable wrecklessness or profound naivite in our President and in such congressional figures as Nancy Pelosi, who seem to think that doing socialized medicine well, can happen with the snap of their fingers.

More Great Pro-Life Work from CatholicVote.Org

2009-07-16T22:52:00.002-05:00

St Gregory of Nyssa on Slavery to Sin, Amphibious Life, Etc.

2009-07-14T15:43:00.004-05:00

I'm finally getting into St Gregory of Nyssa's Life of Moses. I'm about a quarter of the way through the second book, which consists of his spiritual interpretation of the great prophet's life.

Throughout the Life he likens the Israelites' slavery in Egypt to slavery to sin and the exodus from Egypt to liberation from sin -- not a unique idea, to be sure, but I'm getting to the point just now.

Describing the slavery of the Israelites Gregory writes,

"The straw and its chaff which those subject to the tyrant's orders were required to mix in the brick are interpreted by both the divine Gospel and the sublime voice of the Apostle as material for the fire."

Which is a vivid way of saying, that those things that we sin in pining after before the liberation of faith and baptism, are the straw and chaff that fuel the fires of Hell. Would we willingly jump into the muck pits of slavery to toil and make pyramid bricks? Then why clutch after worthless things when the exodus is at hand?

Another great quote, in the marginalia of which I simply described as, 'ridiculous', treats the plague of frogs by likening their amphibious nature to man's lowering himself to something below his nature:

"Being a man by nature and becoming a beast by passion, this kind of person exhibits an amphibious form of life ambiguous in nature."

He then goes on to describe sensuality as being the foremost locus for this ambiguity, but concludes with this delightfully imaginative gem:

"The table of the prudent man is similarly found to be pure, but that of the man wallowing in the mire is frog-like and fleshy. And if you search the storeroom, that is to say, the secret and unmentionable things of his life, you will discern there, in his licentiousness, a much greater pile of frogs."

Ha!

Burt!

2009-07-06T23:25:00.004-05:00

I never had Professor Burton "Burt" Folsom at my beloved 'Dale, but I have very much enjoyed his commentary on the current economic crisis and 20th century political-economic history.

The following video is the first of a set of 5 that are taken from a talk of his based on his recent book exposing the revisionist history concerning FDR and the New Deal. The book is called New Deal or Raw Deal. The other four parts can also be found on Youtube. I wouldn't recommend watching if you're pretty attached to the notion that FDR was a hero that saved America from ruin -- which notion American history text books have, without challenge, inculcated into the ignorant minds of young Americans for the past few generations. For the rest of you, enjoy!

Just So You're Aware...

2009-07-06T21:57:00.004-05:00

...I purchased some aviator sunglasses last week and now don them on most every occasion that involves even a little sunlight -- which is to say, every time I walk outside here in Dallas. As the photographic evidence will prove, I look quite a bit like Tom Cruise in "Top Gun".

See:

My Morning Treat

2009-06-30T10:18:00.004-05:00

The strangest thing happened on my walk up to work this morning:

It was about 7:55 (per usual) and I'd gotten about half way when I realized something was amiss. Looking around nothing appeared out of its normal place. Half-a-dozen cars were in their customary, early-bird parking spaces beneath the half-a-dozen trees in the parking lot; the maintenance crew was darting around in their converted golf carts; the black birds were squawking. I couldn't figure it out.

Then shifting my perception to skin on my back, I realized there was no sweat there! I couldn't believe it! Almost in a panic, I thought to myself, 'Am I somehow so thoroughly dehydrated as to not be able to sweat?' Then, as if awaking to the reality of a fairy land, I noticed that the sun was behind clouds and the morning temperature was not in the nineties. And, though the humidity was still high, I was actually comfortable. Walking into my office, I turned on my fan, but not with the normal sense of desperation, but simply as it is my daily habit.

Praise God for these simple pleasures!

Ultimate Frisbee

2009-06-25T09:54:00.003-05:00

In case any of my readers in the Dallas area are unaware, we play ultimate frisbee on the UD rugby pitch every Thursday and Sunday at 7:00pm. Don't worry if no one's there at 7:00 as our group is notoriously late at getting started...

But to my comrades in ultimate, be forewarned, I've purchased some arm sweatbands for summer ultimate play. The idea is that not only will these cut down on hand sweat and thus provide for a firmer grip when throwing, but also make me faster than Ryan, more agile than a puma, higher jumper than Spud Webb, and more graceful than Kristi Yamaguchi.

The Hobbit

2009-06-24T09:17:00.006-05:00

I've found that I pretty much need to read something light and fluffy before I can try to go sleep, when I get home from the library at night. So this week I hopped around in the hobbit. Monday night I read the chapter about the Trolls, and yesterday read the last 4 chapters or starting with the account of Smaug's death. My favorite part, I suppose, is Bilbo's reconciliation with Thorin.

"[In reference to Bilbo] If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." -- Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain

Babysitting

2009-06-22T09:14:00.003-05:00

Stephanie and I did a spot of babysitting on Saturday evening for our friends Josh and Erika. Their adorable daughter, Clare, may just be the cutest baby either of us has ever been around.

Josh and Erika left around 6:45pm, and by 7:00 we were eating a little supper with our little friend. But around 7:05 her eyes had quickly grown heavy and around 7:07 she was zonked out in her highchair!

Steph got her ready for bed and gave her a bottle and by 7:25 we were on the couch watching a movie, enjoying the easiest night of babysitting imaginable. Though, I must admit, I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to spend more time with Clare! In any event, here's the real purpose of this post, the really cute picture.

Summer Frisbee in Texas

2009-06-19T11:11:00.003-05:00

We played our customary mid-week, summer Ultimate Frisbee game at 7:00pm last night. The sun was setting when we finished, which meant it was out and torturing us throughout the match. It was by far the closest I've come to passing out in a long time. But, despite the elements, the pursuit of glory pushed us through to the bitter end for my team and the glorious end for our foes/friends.

Spirituality

2009-06-19T10:48:00.004-05:00

This week I've started reviewing my Christian Spirituality course for comps. This weekend I'll be working through St. Gregory of Nyssa's Life of Moses. In it, Gregory uses the biography of Moses as allegory for the spiritual life. I'll post some more on Monday when I've reread and digested it a bit.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Liturgy and Authority

2009-06-12T11:43:00.003-05:00

So, I'm almost done studying for "Liturgy" topics for my comps. I got to choose the documents, books, etc I wanted to study again from the class I took and ended up reviewing, Ratzinger's Spirit of the Liturgy, Vatican II's Sacrosanctum Concilium, John Paul II's Ecclesia de Eucharistia and several other CDW & DS documents in response to post-conciliar liturgical/sacramental abuses. I also spent a day reading a little book by Ralph McInerny (the stalwart professor of philosophy at Notre Dame) entitled, What Went Wrong With Vatican II, which is to say, with the implementation of Vatican II.

While all of this has been most interesting and informative, one thing that I've found incredibly puzzling is how strange the post-conciliar Church's relationship with the hierarchy's directives has been. It would seem that the hermeneutic for interpretting and implementing council teaching cannot even be considered one of 'discontinuity' as Ratzinger has generously termed it -- and, yes I now consider it to be a generous appelation. For discontinuity implies that the council is at least being read and implemented according to its own actual teaching. But this is not the case. Rather, the dicontinuous interpretters, as they might be termed, don't even interpret the text by what it actually says, but simply according to what they'd like it to say. Is it not terribly presumptious that these folks should call their unfounded and invented interpretation as the 'spirit' of the council,? Being that it is unbased in the authoritative texts and can only be pointed at through the shadowy and highly-partison literature existing about the goings on behind the council?

One example will need to suffice for now:

Communion in both kinds (the reception of the Precious Blood):

Experience: Almost all faithful Catholics (in this country at least) assume that it is the right of each Catholic to receive both the Body and the Blood of Christ at every Mass. Why should the priest and not us? I myself as a convert was unsure why St. Mary of the Angels only distributed communion in one kind. I can imagine that for some this even appears offensive.

Actual Vatican II text: "The dogmatic principles which were laid down by the Council of Trent remaining intact, communion under both kinds may be granted when the bishops think fit, not only to clerics and religious, but also to the laity, in cases to be determined by the Apostolic See, as, for instance, to the newly ordained in the Mass of their sacred ordination, to the newly professed in the Mass of their religious profession, and to the newly baptized in the Mass which follows their baptism." --Sacrosanctum Concilium, 55.2

Commentary: Though I do think there is a very good practical case for limiting communion in both kinds, theologically I don't see a problem with it. Nevertheless, why should the general practice -- the proponents of which would surely site the Council -- fly in the face of clear Conciliar teaching?

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Another fine example would be Extraordinary Ministers of Communion.

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So, gentle Lector, correct your humble Auctor. How have I grossly simplified things?

[13 June - I happened upon this great article about the liturgical reform after Vatican II, by the current secretary of the CDW&DS, Abp. Ranjith]

Yikes

2009-06-09T23:06:00.002-05:00

You hate to judge a man's motives, but when the economists all say these tax hikes are going to drive corporate america to Washington begging for bailouts and the president wants to give them... One has to wonder. If I have any Obama supporters reading out there, how am I mis-reading this one?

I don't see how the economics could be wrong: decreased income for corporations across the country combined with a huge corporate tax increase... Is that not a death blow? Why wouldn't Microsoft leave, if they can?

A Toast Post

2009-06-08T10:15:00.006-05:00

In considering formats for blogging about the wedding of my dear friends Andy and Amanda, I decided the best option would be a toast -- with the hope that you, my readers, might feel inclined to "Comment" with any response toasts of your own.

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To Andy and Amanda:

Your wedding was, indeed, a witness to the vitality of your faith in Christ, your love for his Church, and your awe before Beauty. You were joined as joyfully and as splendidly as could be imagined -- surrounded by a great number of friends and family who are both proud and honored to be a part of your lives. Your vows were pure and good and by the grace of God will be held true all the days of your life -- and blessed with the virtue that you both maintain, there is little doubt in my mind that this will be so.

So, to my dearest, oldest friend and to his wonderful wife, whom I am so glad to have gotten to know and so happy to see joined with him:

May the blessings of a Christ-centered life together (with many children!) and the liberty to enjoy it be yours -- and, may your pursuit of happiness be unimpeded by the grasping tentacles of the Federal Government!

Cheers!