The meaning of tradition

We’re just one week from moving into Advent, the season of the liturgical calendar during which we prepare for the celebration of our Lord’s birth by reflection, repentance and renewal of our baptismal vows. That is, if we can spare ourselves the time from the madness surrounding The Holidays, which seem to start earlier every year (the phenomenon I’ve seen referred to, with grotesque aptness, as “Christmas creep”). Indeed, the profane traditions of “Thanksmas” have so multiplied under the beneficent gaze of Mammon that to actually observe Advent you almost have to dispose of all the Santa-Claus-Jack-Frost-and-snowmen crap, retaining—if you must—only a tree and a crèche.

Why do we do this to ourselves every year? The instant response is, “Well, we do it every year because … it’s … traditional,” with maybe a futile shrug and hand gesture that says, “What are you gonna do?” The season itself is so full of chairos, so pregnant with meaning, that we reiterate the accidents as if they were inextricably part of the essence. And perhaps that’s not far from the truth: perhaps it’s a physical manifestation of the spiritual richness of this time, albeit corrupted to a certain extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue secular concerns.

So if you were looking for a “Bah, humbug!” from me, you’re going to be disappointed. But stay on a bit, because I’m about to go off on another tangent.

Wherein I take a possibly surprising position on a controversial issue

So I walked over to the [Group W] bench, there … Group W is where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the Army after committing your especial crime … there was all kinds of mean, nasty, ugly people on the bench there … mother-rapers … father-stabbers … FATHER-RAPERS!

—Arlo Guthrie, “Alice’s Restauraunt”

In California—where else?—US District Court judge Virginia Phillips issued a permanent, world-wide injunction against the Defense Department, ordering the military “immediately to suspend and discontinue any investigation, or discharge, separation, or other proceeding, that may have been commenced” under the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

To me, the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy made sense only as a means of conserving military criminal investigations resources for more critical violations of the UCMJ; as an attempt to compromise between the ideal of no gays in the military and the reality of gays filling useful, even critical roles, it was a loser: instead of being quietly intolerant, the DoD became openly hypocritical as well as intolerant.

Another tiresome post on homophobia

Yes, I know. There are so many other topics to write about. Nevertheless, between the recent concerns over bullying and the recent SCOTUS case against Westboro Baptist Church, we seem to be approaching a crisis, the shape of which needs articulation.

Back in 2003, in a blog now long disappeared, I wrote about the Supreme Court decision in Lawrence v. Texas (539 US 558). My concern at the time was not public acceptance of homosexuality. Rather, my concern was that SCOTUS was once again misusing the judicial power of review to serve its own sense of good legislation.

The lonesome death of Hope Witsell

It looks like at least one segment of the American population—the mainstream media—is finally waking up to the reality of bullying. At least among young people. (If ever the MSM woke up to the reality of political bullying, and how they feed and feed on it, I would get on my knees and pray because I would know the Second Coming was nigh.)

At my high school class’ 20^th reunion, one person who had given me grief throughout my last three years of mandatory education approached me and said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you.” I was, to say the least, nonplussed; I’d finally let go of my anger some years before and wasn’t even thinking about it. But I managed to summon up enough of my customary tact and grace to shake his hand and say, “Hey, we were all assholes in high school.”

Mister Diplomacy, that’s me.

Recapturing the Catholic brand—UPDATED

The release this week of a Pew Forum study has caused some concern among American Christians, especially by the revelation that the highest average score came among atheists and agnostics. As Jimmy Akin pointed out on his National Catholic Register blog, the quiz wasn’t all that extensive and was more of a “how much do you know about all the major world religions?” quiz rather than anything specific to Christianity. Because the US is still predominantly Christian, most Christians would have less interest in learning about non-Christian religions than would other groups, especially atheists. I’m not completely satisfied with this answer—after all, Catholics in the US are outnumbered by Protestants almost 4:1, yet did slightly worse (50% average versus 55%)—but it’s a good and valid point.

However—breaking down the quiz further—there’s still some cause for discomfort. For in a battery of questions reaching towards general Bible knowledge, Catholics came up well short of the mark. If we took the old school standard of 70% for a D- pass, then Catholics would have flunked with an average 45%. (Protestants would also have flunked, with an average 54.1%, with even the highest-scoring bloc, white Evangelicals, doing no better than 60.8%.) And the study noted that 55% of Catholics know that the Church teaches that the Eucharist is not just a symbol, that the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ … which means that 45% don’t; frankly, my brothers and sisters in the faith, if you don’t know this one, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.[1]

A few reflections on prayer

Where does prayer come from? Whether prayer is expressed in words or gestures, it is the whole man who prays. But in naming the source of prayer, Scripture speaks sometimes of the soul or the spirit, but most often of the heart (more than a thousand times). According to Scripture, it is the heart that prays. If our heart is far from God, the words of prayer are in vain.

The heart is the dwelling-place where I am, where I live; according to the Semitic or Biblical expression, the heart is the place “to which I withdraw.” The heart is our hidden center, beyond the grasp of our reason and of others; only the Spirit of God can fathom the human heart and know it fully. The heart is the place of decision, deeper than our psychic drives. It is the place of truth, where we choose life or death. It is the place of encounter, because as image of God we live in relation: it is the place of covenant.

Christian prayer is a covenant relationship between God and man in Christ. It is the action of God and of man, springing forth from both the Holy Spirit and ourselves, wholly directed to the Father, in union with the human will of the Son of God made man. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2^nd Edition, 2562-2564)

“Man is in search of God,” the Catechism reminds us. Many priests, pastoral theologians and religious folk speak of the “God-shaped hole in our souls”; friendships, loves, wealth, success, power and fame still leave us crying for more, dissatisfied without knowing why. Our spiritual lives begin when we finally acknowledge that “hole” for what it is, rather than attempt to fill it with material goods, desperate activity and frantic pleasure-seeking. In acknowledging his need for and dependence on God, Man does not surrender his own dignity or intrinsic worth. Instead, he finds them given new strength as a child of God, who says to him, “You are my beloved son.”

The crucifixion of the Pope II

Terry Kohut, a victim of accused molester Fr. Lawrence C. Murphy, has filed suit against Pope Benedict XVI and the Vatican. In reporting this story, Scott Bronstein, of CNN’s “Special Investigations Unit”, has chosen to limit his investigation to regurgitating the insane allegations and factual misrepresentations fabricated by Laurie Goodstein of the New York Times. He finds assistance in this reiteration from Jeff Anderson, Kohut’s lead attorney and one of Goodstein’s sources, as well as David Gibson, the author of The Rule of Benedict.

After much thinking, I decided not to waste time by reiterating the many flaws and factual twisting necessary to Goodstein’s accusations (really Anderson’s accusations through Goodstein, though she certainly didn’t exercise any resemblance of objectivity). You want to know what they are, read here. Rather, I wish to waste time wondering … what’s the point here?

Of robber barons and moral codes

Rewind a scant 600 years, and modern science doesn’t yet exist. Men and women live and die in squalor and filth, largely ignorant of the germs that ravage their bodies and of the natural laws that govern the universe, instead imploring an alleged supernatural force to help them navigate this vale of tears.

But thanks to minds such as Galileo, Sir Isaac Newton, Louis Pasteur and Charles Darwin, this is not how we face the world today. They taught us our method of knowing: careful, mathematically precise observation, step-by-step inference and generalization, and systematic, evidence-based theory building.

They had the courage to challenge entrenched authority, toss aside superstition and defy popes. As others followed the trail the first scientists blazed, human knowledge advanced dramatically.

With these words, Yaron Brook and Onkar Ghate of the Ayn Rand Center for Individual Rights, arguing on CNN.com that our moral code needs modernization, reiterate the atheist myth of scientific development, playing very fast and very loose with the details. However, the point of the article isn’t merely to hoist the superiority of science over religion:

What's the difference between a monk and a friar?

The story goes that a monastery in England decided to open up a roadside fish-and-chips stand to help support themselves. One wag who approached the stand quipped to the religious manning it, "Are you the fish friar?"

"No," the brother replied straight-faced, "I'm the chip monk."

Okay, so the joke's not that funny. But it does bring forth a distinction that you may not be aware of if you're not Catholic … and, given recent history in religious formation, perhaps even if you are Catholic.

The contingency problem—UPDATED

 Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

On rereading my discussion of Stephen Hawking’s The Grand Design, I realize that not only did I not explain why “string theory” doesn’t address the problem of contingency, I didn’t even adequately define contingency, or why it constitutes a problem for atheists.  As it is, the conclusion appears to be a two-part exercise in begging an inarticulate question.

So let me make amends by supplying the deficiency: