Modern Marvels

I have noticed that in many, if not all instances, the statues and stained glass windows in modern Catholic Churches are done in a cartoonish style. I think this causes a disconnect between the people in the pews and the people depicted in the art. The images in the windows become somehow remote. Would anyone even notice if, instead of cartoonish windows showing Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, we had windows depicting George Washington and Abraham Lincoln? Or maybe even Superman and Batman? What really is the difference between Abraham the patriarch and Superman anyway? At least the superheroes would keep the kids happy.

Statues are intended to convey something about the person that is depicted. Even fictional persons. A life size statue of Batman, as depicted in the newer, cooler movies about batman, will convey something. Same with Spiderman. Iron man.

But Abraham?

The problem with Abraham is that we are somehow less sure he exists than the superheroes in Marvel comics. Batman doesn't have a mountain of "critical exegesis" smothering him while searching for pseudo-Batman and asking whether or not the "Robin" tradition was part of the earliest source material in the Batmanian school or was grafted in later as the batmanites encountered the larger english speaking world.

Batman just stands for what he stands for and we get it.

The begging question is "What did Abraham ever do?". Oh little stuff like talk the Most High God of the entire universe, from whom he received a PROMISE that his [spiritual] descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Or chat up Melchizedek who nobody is sure whether he was a human being or some kind of angel. Win multiple battles against odds that nobody in their right mind would accept. Have the obedience to set up to sacrifice his ONLY child because God said so. And then have an actual angel stop him from doing it.

Maybe the Church would do well to let Marvel Comics tell the story of Abraham? At least design the statues and windows!

Vice Footprint

The title of this blog is intended as a spoof of the "carbon footprint" idea that is current in mainstream thinking. While I am not generally politically aligned with those who espouse such ideas, this is one area where I have to concede that my opponent has a point. Many of us, particularly in the U.S. it seems, would do well to reflect on the reality that actions have consequences and in many cases it is more important to say that OUR actions have consequences for OTHERS. It seems to me this is the real message behind the carbon footprint concept - to get people to realize and take responsibility for the energy that they consume.

For all the legitimate concern that environmentalists have with the impact our wanton energy use is having to the planet, it seems to me we really need to recognize that energy use is just one loop in a complicated knot of effects that our lives make to reality. I think we need to back up a little further and take an even larger view.

We need a concept of a "vice footprint".

Beyond simple energy use, we need to be asking the larger question - How much damage does your entire lifestyle do to the human community? For instance, how big the relational "oil slick" that your college career leaves on the surface of the human community? How thick is the web of lies that was woven to avoid taking responsibility for consequences that your behavior created? How many lies were told to gain admission to the modern promiscuous sexual culture, resulting in broken hearts and baggage for others?

I have commented before that the modern hook-up culture is the spiritual equivalent of the Exxon Valdez crashing every day. Unfortunately, there is now even a better analogy. Our modern sexual culture is analogous to the continuous flow of filth from the Deepwater Horizon site.

What a sobering notion that one of the most effective means for resolving the mess is to burn it.

Personally, I'll volunteer to be an otter (or in this case seagull?) scrubber.

Let Freedom Ring

One Ring to rule them all,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all

and in the darkness bind them.

Most modern readers will recognize the reference to the opening scenes of the movie trilogy The Lord of the Rings.

It occurs to me that the One Ring stands for the "self".  For that which each of us holds most dear.  Each of the rings that are given to the rulers of middle earth contain in themselves the powers that allow them to rule Middle Earth - these are like the natural and inherited gifts that those rulers have.  But there is a twist - using the rings makes you subject to the One Ring that belongs on the finger of the dark lord Sauron.   

I have heard it said that J.R.R. Tolkein loathed the concept of allegory, but there seems to be at least an analogy here to the concept of self.  Each of us has certain natural gifts that we can use to our advantage, to aid in our "rule" on behalf of our self.  But when we place value on the natural gifts in themselves, when we "use" them, we are going to come under the power and influence of the real "dark lord" - Satan - that we face.  The only hope we have of destroying the One Ring, that is, the power of our self love, is to cast the One Ring into the fire of Mount Doom - namely to make a sacrifice of self.   The cross is the symbol for Christians of making that self-sacrifice. 

But the One Ring cannot be destroyed. "Not with 10,000 men could you do this." says Boromir, the great warrior.

When I was a graduate student in college, I had the opportunity to study under one of the "full" (meaning not an associate) professors in my department.  I had a very high regard for this man. He was powerfully intelligent, driven and of a generally positive demeanor.  He was also a naturally inquisitive person and loved anecdotal stories about other areas of research happening at the University.  This was a way to get "brownie points" with him - bring up some new finding from another department on campus - the Medical School perhaps, or Physics department, etc. - and engage him in an intelligent conversation.  I realized that in his company, I found myself in the same position as many rookie quarterbacks in the NFL.  Up until to that point, I had considered myself intellectually gifted - but now I was in the "big leagues".  I used to say that I was just intelligent enough to recognize, concretely and specifically, the ways in which this man was more intelligent than me.   I never did venture to try to bring up something to impress him since I knew he would ask questions that I couldn't answer.  

 

In retrospect, it occurs to me that while my professor was fond of knowledge in general, I never heard any discussion of morality or even philosophy for that matter.  I had the sense (although this was never actually said...) that this professor would have been non-plussed had the issue of morality been raised in a positive fashion.  Mind you, I don't think his response would have been shrill: "I don't want your pompous morality shoved in my face" like many other college-type folks of lesser intellectual stature.  Rather, I speculate that he would have stopped short, cocked his head, scratched his chin, raised his eyebrows and said something like: "Is there something meaningful that can be said about morality?".  

It seems to me that all men want to be free, but most are unwilling.  To "want to be free" is fairly easy - it consists of saying "Oh, I wish I didn't have all these bills to pay.  I wish I didn't have all these responsibilities.  I wish I could just ride down the highway on my motorcycle, etc. and just get away" and then just staring off into the distance.  Every man in every time and place does this. 

But willing to be free is another matter altogether.  It goes beyond a wistful feeling in the heart and engages the full faculties of a person and says:  "I am going to do the due diligence to make sure that all the bases are covered in my life AND in the society I am part of.  I am going to honor the commitments that pertain to me.  I am not going to rely on someone else to clean up after my mess.  I am even willing to go so far as to clean up after other people's messes." 

Willing to be free requires self-sacrifice.   In many instances, it will require total self-sacrifice. The hymns of our nation feature this idea:

"O say, does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave, O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?"

"Who more than self, their country loved and mercy more than life."

Notice the first one is phrased as a question.

When I was a kid, I recall hearing older people speak on a regular basis about the freedom we have in America.  I remember that the Fourth of July was a fun holiday (with fireworks and decorations, etc.), but it wasn't frivolous.  It was altogether different from something like Halloween.   The older generation spoke of freedom with reverence.  They were remembering, without exactly saying so, the self-sacrifices (their own, but especially those of others) that went with the freedom. 

I don't hear this anymore. 

"Much of what once was is now lost, for none now live who remember it..."

This line, also from the Lord of the Rings, follows the opening lines above.  The scene from the movie shows how the Ring, after being struck off of the finger of Sauron in combat, is lost along with the very knowledge of its existence.  This ignorance seems to be bliss, and it is, for a time. But then it comes back.

One meaningful thing that can be said about morality is that it puts the hearts of men in touch with the concept of self-sacrifice.  In the absence of morality there is "precious" little to stop a complete abandonment of the concept of self-sacrifice in the hearts of men.  And in the loss of the notion and way of self-sacrifice, many commitments will be broken, many messes will be made and there will be a great need to "clean up" after the selfish souls.   

Ironically, in the very place where knowledge is sought so diligently by such gifted people working tirelessly, the knowledge of the inherent fallen nature of man, of the reality of sin, is lost.  None now live who remember it.   A "shadow" spreads from hell, covering our institutions, and robbing our words and actions of their meaning.  College is the time when the "self" is most fully given reign in the lives of young people - is it necessary to expound?  And with this wanton exercise of self, we follow in the footsteps of the Nazgul, the ring-wraiths, neither living nor dead.  

Bound in the darkness.

The good news is that the power of the One Ring has been defeated.  Not destroyed or obliterated, but defeated.  There is the potential to rise above the self, to make a self-sacrifice. There are footsteps to follow on Mount Doom, a path has been made.  It can be done.   It has been done.   

Freedom and self-sacrifice - "...go together like a horse and carriage, this I tell you brother, you can't have one without the other."

  

The Transubstatiantors

I am a relatively new user of YouTube (just got high-speed internet at home) and, as with anything new that I do, I have to "overdo it" at first until I get it out of my system.  So I have been watching YouTube videos - a lot of them - all the while trying to steer clear of things I shouldn't be seeing (read: pornographic sex - there's lots of it on YouTube).

Somehow I recently stumbled across a section on YouTube with "trailers" for upcoming movies  and the trailer for the sequel "The Transformers, Part 2 - The Fallen" was featured.  Since it didn't seem to be too racy, I watched it.  Now, I haven't seen the original Transformers movie, but I do have at least a passing familiarity of what the original cartoon had been about (good robots that turn into cars, etc. fighting bad robots that turn into other things).  I can still hear the old cartoon theme song (sung in robot voice...) "The Transformers, more than meets the eye.  The Transformers, robots in disguise...".   As I was watching this on YouTube I was struck, all of a sudden, by the name of the bad guys - namely, the "Decepticons".   This word seems somehow familiar to me so I am thinking it must have been the name of the bad guys in the original TV cartoon series too.  It's a great name for a villain, combining the word "deception" with "icon" (image).  The bad guys thus present a "false image".  The sense of this in the Transformers movie has to do with their ability to "transform" (i.e. change shape) no doubt, but it called to my mind some Decepticons of a more sinister mien.

With all of the attention I give on these pages to spiritual darkness, the idea that the devil is the "deceiver" and the "father of lies" is chilling.  It's bad enough that mankind can't access God through our intellect, or our senses, but rather is consigned to spiritual darkness, a la the Dark Night of the Soul.   But to have the demons actively seeking to deceive us at the same time, with eternal consequences, is just messed up.  I read once somewhere (I think in C.S. Lewis "The Screwtape Letters"...) that the devil's favorite moment is to see the look on the face of sinners when they land in hell.  

Again, that is just messed up.  

It also occurs to me that the word "mercy", another of those over-used, under-defined church words, takes on an entirely different meaning in light of the sensual and spiritual darkness we labor under and the active war of deception that is being waged against us by the dark spirits.  Mercy, in this fuller context, means anything that tends to free us from the deception we are under.  In plain english, anything that helps us to see that we need God.   And that could mean pain, or loss, or failure, or broken dreams or a broken heart.  

Now, all of those things hurt.  They are the type of things that make people (at least people like me...) say "God, how could you let this happen?"  But they are also times when people do cry out to God for help and that is exactly what is needed.  So, in a profound way, these things are "merciful" even though they may hurt bad.  

So, what exactly do we mean when we pray "Lord have mercy" in mass?   Do we mean "Lord, hurt me bad so that I am more dependent on you?"   No, that doesn't quite seem right.  How about instead, "Lord, help me to wake up to how desperately I need you, at least for this one day.  Help me to remember what other people have sacrificed in following you.  Shine a spotlight on these problems of mine that seem, so strongly, as if they will be the end of me.  Let me see their shadows cast against the wall of death that my life is headed toward."  

This is a wild concept.  This idea of "pain as mercy" is crazy talk to the modern ear - or as the bible would say, "foolishness" to Greeks and "a stumbling block" to the Jews.  Yet, somehow, the Apostles, who had been given great light from the Master himself, were able to literally rejoice when they were beaten. 

I am not "there" yet.  Frankly, I don't see how I would ever get "there" - but as the Lord has thus far been able to help me to come to a deeper understanding (at least) of the profundity of my own spiritual and intellectual darkness, I think it is wise for me to just say that it may also be possible for the Lord to bring me to a point where I can rejoice in my sufferings, even though I can't see how right now.  

Grace please?

Senseless Devotion

I like to think up catchy titles for these blogs and it was shortly after a recent visit to the Basilica of St. Mary (in Minneapolis) that I came up with the title for this one.  The intended meaning is that our faith and devotion to Jesus Christ is NOT sensed - that is to say, it is not something experienced by any of our physical senses.  This probably doesn't come as a surprise to anyone, but I think it bears repeating to better take it to heart.  

The inspiration for this post was a funny, silent little exchange I had with another person.  Now the Basilica is right in downtown Minneapolis and there is a fairly eclectic crowd that hangs out there on weekdays.  There are homeless people in need of help, there are art students sketching out the architecture on easels, there are tourists with cameras looking all around, and then there are people like me who are there to pray.  There are signs everywhere reminding people that the Basilica is a place for prayer and that silence is to be observed, so everyone sort of shuffles around without making much eye contact, trying to keep quiet.  

This time, I happened to be there to pray the Stations of the Cross.   I do this in the traditional way - meaning I physically walk around the outer perimeter of the church, where the station plaques are mounted, and I stop to genuflect, read a meditation from my prayer book and pray silently in front of each station.   Of course, I like it best when no one else is there and I have the whole church to myself, but I'm to the point now where I don't get too self-conscious if people stare at me while I'm doing this.  On this occasion, as I am on station eight or nine (out of fourteen), this guy is walking towards me with his head down.  I am standing still, reading a meditation, and he doesn't notice me standing there.  As I drop to one knee to genuflect, my movement startles him slightly and he recoils, not quite sure what I am doing.   I nod my head to him and keep on with what I am doing.  He proceeds to stare at me.  He then turns his whole body to looks at the wall where I am facing the station plaque.  Now, on the wall there are all kinds of inscribed placards, stained glass windows and paintings besides the little plaque for the station of the cross.  He looks back at me and then looks at the wall again trying to figure out what I am genuflecting in front of.   It occurred to me that the guy was probably wondering "What does he see that I don't see?"  He then gives me a little look like I am crazy and moves along.  

It's so natural to want to meet the world with our senses - how else are we supposed to meet it?  For people who are deprived of one or more of those senses (sight, hearing, etc.) we see it as a poverty.   The historical artwork that presents the story of Jesus Christ to us, out of reverence, always puts "highlights" around the figure of Jesus - a halo, sunlight shining down from above, angels adoring from on high.   But the day that Christ died, as he hung on the cross, there was nothing to see.  I imagine the centurion might have looked at the Apostle John standing with Mary at the foot of the cross the same way the guy in the Basilica looked at me. "What does he see that I don't see".  Of course, the answer to that question is:  nothing.  We walk by faith and not by sight.  

The greatest of our "senseless" mysteries of the Catholic faith is the Eucharist, the very body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ, a "sacrament" wherein we are associated with the saving work of Jesus Christ.  He is our paschal lamb, our passover meal that protects on the night of the destroying angel.   

Thomas Aquinas, the great philosopher of the Catholic Church, wrote a great poem about this "senseless" aspect of faith in Christ - it's called the "Adoro te Devote" (Latin words you see painted on the wall in many Churches...).  I thought I'd like to share it...

I devoutly adore you, O hidden God,

Truly hidden beneath these appearances.

My whole heart submits to you,

And in contemplating you,

It surrenders itself completely.

Sight, touch, taste are all deceived

In their judgment of you,

But hearing suffices firmly to believe.

I believe all that the Son of God has spoken;

There is nothing truer than this word of truth.

On the cross only the divinity was hidden,

But here the humanity is also hidden.

I believe and confess both,

And ask for what the repentant thief asked.

I do not see the wounds as Thomas did,

But I confess that you are my God.

Make me believe more and more in you,

Hope in you, and love you.

O memorial of our Lord's death!

Living bread that gives life to man,

Grant my soul to live on you,

And always to savor your sweetness.

Lord Jesus, Good Pelican,

wash me clean with your blood,

One drop of which can free

the entire world of all its sins.

Jesus, whom now I see hidden,

I ask you to fulfill what I so desire:

That on seeing you face to face,

I may be happy in seeing your glory. Amen

Consolation Prize

The Church is presently in the midst of its annual novena - as in THE NOVENA - the "nine" days between the Ascension of the Lord Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. I have been participating in the prayer in my usual manner (i.e. start two days late with strong intentions to do the rest, get too busy, miss another day or two, almost give up, feel guilty and then do one more day, resolve to do better next year...).

Since the title of this blog is "Indwelling Trinity", I was hoping to go "long" on the Holy Spirit - maybe read "The Interior Castle" and really have something to say.

But, alas, no.

Instead, I was struck by one title of the Holy Spirit - "the Consoler". I really haven't understood this title - it seems vaguely like it means that the Holy Spirit is the One makes us feel better when we are sad or some such.

But this week, indeed this Novena, it occurred to me that the Holy Spirit is the Consoler because He is WITH US. This was the consolation the Apostles were looking for - as in "There goes Jesus up into the sky - now all we have to do is make disciples of all nations". What a consolation when God returns, God the Holy Spirit, and enters them in the visible form of "tongues" of fire. I am always struck by the dichotomy of Moses encounter on Mount Sinai, where the people are terrified and have to stay away from the Divine Presence even from the foot of the mountain where God is, and the Holy Spirit which enters right into the Apostles. Of course, this is not to say that Jesus is not with us or that God the Father is not in us, but the Holy Spirit brings Divine Indwelling. What a consolation that presence must also have been for the Martyrs or those crushed under the heels of the world, the poor and the downtrodden. They have the Holy Spirit in them, which is what they ultimately need.

May the Holy Spirit strengthen me to live this truth in my life.

Thanks be to God.

Light Inaccessible

As I look back on it now, it seems that I have done a lot of posts about "spiritual darkness" - about the "darkness" of our physical senses in regards to perceiving ultimate reality, and the inevitable  "dark night of the soul" experience that happens as we use our wills to try to live in conformity with God's will against our senses.

In "light" of this it only seems appropriate that, in this Easter season, I would write something about "light", as opposed to darkness.   After all, isn't that what it's really all about?

Light, heaven, God.  These all go together.  

The problem I have in trying to write about these is to be able to "back up" far enough to get a sense of the big picture.    With heaven it is sort of like looking at the ocean - from the shore, you see water, but you don't really have a sense of what you are looking at.

At times I think my conception of heaven is so poor that it's embarassing.  It's somehow a hodge-podge of things I have seen in cartoons, sitcoms and movies.   With verses like "eye has not seen, ear has not heard", I'm probably not alone in this regard.

The theology books say that the main "deal" about heaven is something called the "beatific vision".  This is one of those things where I nod my head yes and say "OK" while looking around the room and thinking to myself "everyone else knows what that means except me".  The fact is, I don't think anyone knows what the beatific vision is - not necessarily that there was never anyone who knew or that it is unknown to the human race, but rather that this isn't exactly the sort of thing you can take a class on somewhere.  The silly thing is that most churches seem to treat this topic as if it's something that we are all well versed in - sort of like the way everyone refers to the "big questions" in life, as if we all know what those are and have put a lot of thought into them, even though I have never heard of a high school class entitled "big questions".  I haven't heard of it at any college I know of either. 

The theology books go on to say that the beatific vision is a "face to face" encounter with God - meaning THE GOD.   But this doesn't help my mental conception very much - when I try to picture a "face to face" encounter, I pathetically imagine that God's face will be a lot bigger than mine and that He is emanating all kind of light and our noses are touching ("Yes, OK" ...nodding...everyone else in the room is getting this and I'm not getting it...).  

I read a book recently that said that the "face to face" part means that we are knowing God directly, not thought any sort of intermediary, as must always be the case in this life.  OK, fine, but what does it mean to "know God"?  Well, for one thing, God is the source of existence itself, so if you "know God face to face", one byproduct would seem to be that you automatically know about all of creation (although "knowing" all of creation doesn't mean you know all of God).    It's my understanding that, in the beatific vision, you don't even need to ask God (speech in this case serving as an intermediary), rather your mind is "plugged in" directly - like "high-speed heaven-internet".  This is the "light inaccessible" to us here below.   

But the part of heaven that I most wonder about is the "eternal rest".  To be satisfied at last.  To desire nothing more, to have no fear of future problems, to be at peace with a peace no one can take from you.    It somehow seems that you must already have the beatific vision to even conceive of what this eternal rest is.  The intermediaries of speech and language that we are so dependent on in this life can not capture it to allow it to be conveyed to us.  If our senses in this world are so much darkness, the beatific vision in the converse - whatever is wrong here, somehow corrected there.   The actions of those who have experienced beatific vision, albeit in fleeting glimpses, cast into relief a shadow of this ultimate reality for us to wonder at - St. Thomas Aquinas comes to my mind, who, after having an experience of the beatific vision, said to burn all of his writings, or St. Stephen who was stoned to death with a smile on his face.  The traditional word used for Christians entering this state at the end of faithful living has been "triumph".    

The "triumph of Nate Clyde" - may I live to see it.