Over at The Catholic Thing (www.thecatholicthing.org), James Schall makes the following remark: "No students are more surprised than those who come across Chesterton for the first time. No one ever told them before that the very purpose of the mind is to make dogmas, to state the truth. Generally, they have been told that the mind exists because there is no truth, that truth is 'dangerous'. And I suppose it is in a way."
I just finished reading "The Catholic Church and Conversion", by G.K. Chesterton. If you've ever wondered where GKC's famous line about the Catholic Church being "the only thing which saves a man from the degrading slavery of being a child of his age" comes from, it's the first sentence of Chapter 5 of this book. Here's a rather lengthy quote from near the end:
"... let the convert, or still more the semi-convert, face any one fact that does seem to him to deface the Catholic scheme as a falsehood; and if he faces it long enough he will probably find that it is the greatest truth of all. I have found this myself in that extreme logic of free will which is found in the fallen angels and the possibility of perdition. Such things are altogether beyond my imagination, but the lines of logic go out toward them in my reason. Indeed, I can undertake to justify the whole Catholic theology, if I be granted to start with the supreme sacredness and value of two things: Reason and Liberty. It is an illuminating comment on current anti-Catholic talk that they are the two things which most people imagine to be forbidden to Catholics.
"But the best way of putting what I mean is to repeat what I have already said, in connection with the satisfying scope of Catholic universality. I cannot picture these theological ultimates and I have not the authority or learning to define them. But I still put the matter to myself thus: Supposing I were so miserable as to lose the Faith, could I go back to that cheap charity and crude optimism which says that every sin is a blunder, that evil cannot conquer or does not even exist? I could no more go back to those cushioned chapels than a man who has regained his sanity would willingly go back to a padded cell. I might cease to believe in a God of any kind; but I could not cease to think that a God who had made men and angels free was finer than one who coerced them into comfort. I might cease to believe in a future life of any kind; but I could not cease to think it was a finer doctrine that we choose and make our future life than that it is fitted out for us like an hotel and we are taken there in a celestial omnibus as compulsory as a Black Maria. I know that Catholicism is too large for me, and I have not yet explored its beautiful or terrible truths. But I know that Universalism is too small for me; and I could not creep back into that dull safety, who have looked on the dizzy vision of liberty."
Friday, October 9, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Rhinoceritis
More good stuff from Chaput's book, "Render Unto Caesar" (highly recommended, by the way). He quotes Avery Dulles, Jesuit theologian and cardinal: "The greatest danger facing the Church in our country [anywhere in the West, really] is that of an excessive and indiscreet accommodation." Another name for this condition of accommodation, this "kneeling before the world" (Jacques Maritain's phrase), this submission to the spirit of the age, might be rhinoceritis. I'm not a great fan of theater of the absurd, and I've never read Ionesco's play "Rhinoceros", but I am familiar with Thomas Merton's discussion of it in his well-known essay, "Rain and the Rhinoceros."
The play is set in a small French village, where all the citizens contract a disease that causes them to metamorphose into rhinoceroses. All, that is, except Berenger, who witnesses his friend Jean transform before his very eyes. The last words Jean addresses to Berenger, before the mutation is complete and he loses the power of speech, are: "Humanism has expired! You are an old ridiculous sentimentalist." Berenger stands alone at the end of the play, the last human, surrounded by rhinos. And, as Merton comments, "To be the last human in the rhinoceros herd is, in fact, to be a monster."
Reverend John Hugo, an associate of Dorothy Day, described the spiritual state of too many Catholics of his time, in words that are even truer today: "Large areas of their lives are wholly unilluminated by their faith. Their ideas, their attitudes, their views on current affairs, their pleasure and recreations, their tastes in reading and entertainment, their love of luxury, comfort and bodily ease, their devotion to success, their desire of money, their social snobbishness, racial consciousness, nationalistic narrowness and prejudice, their bourgeois complacency and contempt of the poor: In all these things they are indistinguishable from the huge sickly mass of paganism which surrounds them." (Quoted from Chaput, p. 181). In other words, they've joined the herd.
Strong Catholic faith ought to immunize us from infection with rhinoceritis. We follow our Lord and Savior, not the rhinoceros herd. Are we monsters then? (I was going to entitle this post "We Monsters..."). In the world's eyes, maybe so. We certainly have to face the unpleasant fact that we'll often stand alone, and that we'll often fail. When it comes to solitary witness, we have some strong precedents to follow. I particularly like the story of Pope Liberius, who in the 4th Century defied a hostile emperor with the words, "The truth of the faith is not lessened by the fact that I stand alone." To quote Chaput once again:
"In one of their early confrontations, King Henry VIII taunted Bishop John Fisher, the great bishop-martyr of the English Reformation who remained faithful to Rome and opposed Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn, with this remark: 'Well, well, it shall make no matter ... for you are but one man.' Catholics face the world's same taunting today: the temptation to think that society is too far gone, that our problems are too complex for any of us to make a difference. But one person can always make a difference -- IF that person believes in Jesus Christ and seeks to do his will. We're not called to get results. We're called to be faithful." (p. 196)
The play is set in a small French village, where all the citizens contract a disease that causes them to metamorphose into rhinoceroses. All, that is, except Berenger, who witnesses his friend Jean transform before his very eyes. The last words Jean addresses to Berenger, before the mutation is complete and he loses the power of speech, are: "Humanism has expired! You are an old ridiculous sentimentalist." Berenger stands alone at the end of the play, the last human, surrounded by rhinos. And, as Merton comments, "To be the last human in the rhinoceros herd is, in fact, to be a monster."
Reverend John Hugo, an associate of Dorothy Day, described the spiritual state of too many Catholics of his time, in words that are even truer today: "Large areas of their lives are wholly unilluminated by their faith. Their ideas, their attitudes, their views on current affairs, their pleasure and recreations, their tastes in reading and entertainment, their love of luxury, comfort and bodily ease, their devotion to success, their desire of money, their social snobbishness, racial consciousness, nationalistic narrowness and prejudice, their bourgeois complacency and contempt of the poor: In all these things they are indistinguishable from the huge sickly mass of paganism which surrounds them." (Quoted from Chaput, p. 181). In other words, they've joined the herd.
Strong Catholic faith ought to immunize us from infection with rhinoceritis. We follow our Lord and Savior, not the rhinoceros herd. Are we monsters then? (I was going to entitle this post "We Monsters..."). In the world's eyes, maybe so. We certainly have to face the unpleasant fact that we'll often stand alone, and that we'll often fail. When it comes to solitary witness, we have some strong precedents to follow. I particularly like the story of Pope Liberius, who in the 4th Century defied a hostile emperor with the words, "The truth of the faith is not lessened by the fact that I stand alone." To quote Chaput once again:
"In one of their early confrontations, King Henry VIII taunted Bishop John Fisher, the great bishop-martyr of the English Reformation who remained faithful to Rome and opposed Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn, with this remark: 'Well, well, it shall make no matter ... for you are but one man.' Catholics face the world's same taunting today: the temptation to think that society is too far gone, that our problems are too complex for any of us to make a difference. But one person can always make a difference -- IF that person believes in Jesus Christ and seeks to do his will. We're not called to get results. We're called to be faithful." (p. 196)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Living our Christianity
I came upon a good quote I'd like to share. It's from the Jesuit Henri de Lubac:
"In the last analysis, what is needed is not a Christianity that is more virile, or more efficacious, or more heroic, or stronger; it is that we should live our Christianity with more virility, more efficacy, more strength, and if necessary, more heroism -- but we must live it as it is. There is nothing that should be changed in it, nothing that should be added (which does not mean however, that there is not a continual need to keep its channels from silting up); it is not a case of adapting it to the fashion of the day. [The Christian faith] must come into its own again in our souls. We must give our souls back to it." (Quoted in Archbishop Chaput's book, "Render Unto Caesar", p. 108-109.)
"In the last analysis, what is needed is not a Christianity that is more virile, or more efficacious, or more heroic, or stronger; it is that we should live our Christianity with more virility, more efficacy, more strength, and if necessary, more heroism -- but we must live it as it is. There is nothing that should be changed in it, nothing that should be added (which does not mean however, that there is not a continual need to keep its channels from silting up); it is not a case of adapting it to the fashion of the day. [The Christian faith] must come into its own again in our souls. We must give our souls back to it." (Quoted in Archbishop Chaput's book, "Render Unto Caesar", p. 108-109.)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
"Julie and Julia" and Narcissism
I saw the film "Julie and Julia" a few nights back. It was very entertaining, especially Meryl Streep's performance as Julia Child. The movie raises an issue that has often troubled me. For those who don't know the story, Julie is a frustrated author and amateur chef who decides to seek fulfillment through blogging about her project to cook her way through Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in the course of a year, 524 recipes in 365 days. She gets a little too obsessed with it all. At one point her husband accuses her of thinking that she is "the center of the universe", and that the fans of her blog will commit mass suicide if she neglects to post one day. So here I am, blogging away, wondering, "Isn't there something essentially narcissistic in all this?" I mean, I try to avoid the use of the first person singular pronoun as much as possible (this post and the previous one are exceptions!), but even so there is a subtext, sometimes rising to the level of conscious thought, but often not, that says, "See how clever I am! I have such interesting insights, such original ideas!"
As I grow older I become more and more convinced that humility is the key to all the virtues and an unshakable foundation for happiness in this world and the next. By humility I primarily mean forgetfulness of self. The narcissism that infects our culture is a major reason why so many people are so unhappy today. And I'm not immune. Anyway, I struggle with that. Pray for my soul!
As I grow older I become more and more convinced that humility is the key to all the virtues and an unshakable foundation for happiness in this world and the next. By humility I primarily mean forgetfulness of self. The narcissism that infects our culture is a major reason why so many people are so unhappy today. And I'm not immune. Anyway, I struggle with that. Pray for my soul!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Christina Lake
Well, I'm back blogging again after a lengthy hiatus that included a relocation from one end of the country to the other: from St. John's, Newfoundland to the little town of Christina Lake in south central British Columbia, an area known as the West Kootenays, to be more precise. The family owns beachfront property at the southern end of the lake. Sitting on our deck, my view of the water is framed by two weeping willows. They were saplings when my father planted them, back in the fifties when he acquired the property, but they are immense things now. The trunks are close to fifty feet apart, yet the upper branches of the two trees almost touch. In front of the one on the east there is a small garden, and buried in that garden is an urn containing my mother's ashes (God rest her soul). That's where she wanted to be. For us, that is sacred ground.
I love to sit out on the desk just at the hour when evening is fading into night. That's when the bats come out. Fascinating, extraordinary creatures! Some of them spend the daylight hours under the eaves of our house or the tiles of our roof. I've never seen them up there, but they leave an unmistakable sign of their presence on our deck below, which I dutifully sweep away in the morning.
And then full night comes on, and when the weather is clear, the sky is a panoply of cold sparks. There's Ursa Major, the North Star, Cassiopeia, a thousand thousand other stars and constellations whose names I never learned, all seeming about to break into song from sheer exuberance of being. The night sky is closer, more alive here than anywhere else I've ever lived.
I love to sit out on the desk just at the hour when evening is fading into night. That's when the bats come out. Fascinating, extraordinary creatures! Some of them spend the daylight hours under the eaves of our house or the tiles of our roof. I've never seen them up there, but they leave an unmistakable sign of their presence on our deck below, which I dutifully sweep away in the morning.
And then full night comes on, and when the weather is clear, the sky is a panoply of cold sparks. There's Ursa Major, the North Star, Cassiopeia, a thousand thousand other stars and constellations whose names I never learned, all seeming about to break into song from sheer exuberance of being. The night sky is closer, more alive here than anywhere else I've ever lived.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Julia Lavia. Requiescat in pace.
My step-mother passed away on Monday, July 19, at 6:18 p.m., after a battle with brain cancer that was truly heroic. I felt blessed and privileged to be present at her passing. Please pray for the repose of her soul, and for the consolation of her family and friends.
O nations, hear the word of the Lord,
Proclaim it to the far-off coasts,
Say He Who scattered Israel will gather him,
And guard him as a shepherd guards his flock.
For the Lord has ransomed Jacob,
Has saved him from an overpowering hand.
They will come and shout for joy on Mount Zion,
They will stream to the blessings of the Lord;
To the corn, the new wine, and the oil,
To the flocks of sheep and the herds;
Their life will be like a watered garden.
They will never be weary again.
Then the young girl will rejoice and will dance.
The men, young and old, will be glad.
I will turn their mourning into joy;
I will console them, give gladness for grief.
The priests I will again feed with plenty,
And the people will be filled with my blessing.
O nations, hear the word of the Lord,
Proclaim it to the far-off coasts,
Say He Who scattered Israel will gather him,
And guard him as a shepherd guards his flock.
For the Lord has ransomed Jacob,
Has saved him from an overpowering hand.
They will come and shout for joy on Mount Zion,
They will stream to the blessings of the Lord;
To the corn, the new wine, and the oil,
To the flocks of sheep and the herds;
Their life will be like a watered garden.
They will never be weary again.
Then the young girl will rejoice and will dance.
The men, young and old, will be glad.
I will turn their mourning into joy;
I will console them, give gladness for grief.
The priests I will again feed with plenty,
And the people will be filled with my blessing.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Corruptio optimi est pessima
"... There's something in natural affection which will lead it on to eternal love more easily than natural appetite could be led on. But there's also something in it that makes it easier to stop at the natural level and mistake it for the heavenly. Brass is mistaken for gold more easily than clay is. And if it finally refuses conversion its corruption will be worse than the corruption of what ye call the lower passions. It is a stronger angel, and therefore, when it falls, a fiercer devil.
... But someone must say in general what's been unsaid among you this many a year: that love, as mortals understand the word, isn't enough. Every natural love will rise again and live for ever in this country [i.e., heaven]: but none will rise again until it has been buried.
... There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him. And the higher and mightier it is in the natural order, the more demoniac it will be if it rebels. It's not out of bad mice or bad fleas that you make demons, but out of bad archangels."
C.S. Lewis, from The Great Divorce.
I'm heading out to B.C. tonight to spend some time with my father and step-mother. The doctors are not giving her much time to live, two months at the outside. Please keep them in prayer. I may not have internet access at my father's place, so I don't know when I'll be able to post again.
... But someone must say in general what's been unsaid among you this many a year: that love, as mortals understand the word, isn't enough. Every natural love will rise again and live for ever in this country [i.e., heaven]: but none will rise again until it has been buried.
... There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him. And the higher and mightier it is in the natural order, the more demoniac it will be if it rebels. It's not out of bad mice or bad fleas that you make demons, but out of bad archangels."
C.S. Lewis, from The Great Divorce.
I'm heading out to B.C. tonight to spend some time with my father and step-mother. The doctors are not giving her much time to live, two months at the outside. Please keep them in prayer. I may not have internet access at my father's place, so I don't know when I'll be able to post again.
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