If I were going to take my cues from the culture, I should be surrounding myself with black balloons and all sorts of birthday cards evoking nostalgia and/or grief. For all of the talk about being “forward-looking,” we sure spend a lot of time longing for the past.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in recent years thinking about our passage through time… especially as both my father and the man I consider one of my primary spiritual fathers passed from this life to the next. Experiencing these deaths, and especially being present at the side of my father as he took his last breath, had an unexpected effect on me. Of course I expected the grief and sense of loss. But what surprised me was the way it stirred up a desire for the life to come, enkindled, I’m sure, by the fact that both men had pilgrim hearts: They took great joy in this life but never forgot that they were still on the way.

About a year before he died, my dad sent me an essay he’d written in college about Robert Frost’s After Apple Picking, which includes this passage:

My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.

Dad enclosed a short note with the essay, very matter-of-fact, saying he found it among some old files he had been sorting through. He didn’t need to say anything more; the consummate teacher, he allowed his own peaceful – and I might hazard to say joyful – entry into the next life to interpret the poem for me. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this life, but he had tasted something more and wasn’t going to stick with the hors’d ouerves when an entire banquet was being laid out before him. As C.S. Lewis once put it,

If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

Or in the words of Saint John of the Cross:

I will never lose myself
for that which the senses
can take in here,
nor for all the mind can hold,
no matter how lofty,
nor for grace or beauty,
but only for I-don’t-know-what
which is so gladly found.

Or as T.S. Eliot wrote in The Four Quartets,

In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass….

Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

So I think my perspective on age is a bit different, a bit changed this year. If someone approaches me today and asks, “So how does it feel to be a year older?” I think I will respond, “The real question is: how does it feel to be a year closer to the life to come?”

Not fare well,
But fare forward, voyagers.

If an event can be considered a means of communication — and thus media — I would say that the Catholic New Media conference in Kansas City last October was probably the thing that had the greatest impact on me over the past year. In my experience, events like this truly build up communion in the new media community, and give the greatest sense of purpose and authenticity in the shared gift and task of evangelization, which is marked by a deepening sense of being entrusted to God and to one another.

In the more traditional sense of media, a piece of music I have listened to each day of this year has become a deeper part of my life. While at a friend’s house for New Year’s Eve, the host couple stopped everything at midnight for their annual tradition of listening to Biebl’s Ave Maria, as performed by Chanticleer. I decided that this song, which uses the prayers of the Angelus, would make a fitting theme for the coming year. And so I’ve played it every day since.

Last year, on Catholic Media Promotion Day, we asked you to promote your favorite 3 blogs, 3 podcasts, 3 other media, 3 random Catholic things online, as well as your own projects. (You can find my favorites here.) Additionally, we asked you to go to iTunes on that single day and leave at least 3 positive reviews for various Catholic podcasts and 3 positive written reviews for Catholic mobile applications. The response was phenomenal.

Something different this year

This year, we’re asking you to do something different.

On Wednesday, May 23, we’re asking you to take a one-day break from posting on blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Google +, Pinterest, etc… and use that day to reflect on the Pope’s words about the role of silence in communication and evangelization.

Then, on Thursday, May 24, please share the fruit of that day of prayer and silence with everyone, by posting your answer to the question: “What in Catholic Media has had an impact on me during the past year?” Share it on the New Evangelizers website at:
http://newevangelizers.com/forums/topic/catholic-media-promotion-day-2012/

Why silence on Wednesday?

So why did we choose Wednesday as the day to be silent? According to a recent study, Wednesday is the day that most people post on Facebook. Remaining silent in the world of social communications on this day is a way to become more aware of the temptation to value doing over being and speaking over listening. No one on the web may notice our silence, but surely God will notice, and hopefully we will notice Him more deeply, and thus come away with a greater readiness to share a word that gives life. As Pope Benedict XVI reminds us: “Silent contemplation immerses us in the source of that Love who directs us towards our neighbors so that we may feel their suffering and offer them the light of Christ, his message of life and his saving gift of the fullness of love.”

In summary, here’s what we ask you to do:

1) PREPARE (May 19-22)
Spread the word about World Communications Day and Catholic Media Promotion Day using all the social media:
a) Link to the information page on the New Evangelizers website: http://promotecatholicism.newevangelizers.com/promote-catholicism-day/
b) Like / +1 the page
c) Include the hash tag #silenceandword in your posts
d) Consider using this avatar in place of your profile photo on Facebook, Twitter, etc.:
http://tinyurl.com/silenceandwordavatar

2) FALL SILENT (May 23)
Refrain from using social media to post content on Wednesday, May 23, and use it as a chance to read and prayerfully reflect on the Pope’s message for World Communications Day 2012:
http://tinyurl.com/silenceandword

3) EVANGELIZE (May 24)
Share the fruit of your day of prayer and silence with everyone, by posting your answer to the question: “What in Catholic Media has had an impact on me during the past year?” Share it on the New Evangelizers website at:
http://newevangelizers.com/forums/topic/catholic-media-promotion-day-2012/

Silence and Word: Path of Evangelization

A teaser:

Silence is an integral element of communication; in its absence, words rich in content cannot exist. In silence, we are better able to listen to and understand ourselves; ideas come to birth and acquire depth; we understand with greater clarity what it is we want to say and what we expect from others; and we choose how to express ourselves. By remaining silent we allow the other person to speak, to express him or herself; and we avoid being tied simply to our own words and ideas without them being adequately tested. In this way, space is created for mutual listening, and deeper human relationships become possible. It is often in silence, for example, that we observe the most authentic communication taking place between people who are in love: gestures, facial expressions and body language are signs by which they reveal themselves to each other. Joy, anxiety, and suffering can all be communicated in silence – indeed it provides them with a particularly powerful mode of expression. Silence, then, gives rise to even more active communication, requiring sensitivity and a capacity to listen that often makes manifest the true measure and nature of the relationships involved. When messages and information are plentiful, silence becomes essential if we are to distinguish what is important from what is insignificant or secondary.

Several years ago, shortly after my Dad died, one of my sisters initiated a Christmas letter from my siblings to my mom, and it turned out to be a great way of honoring her. I think, with our Dad’s loss fresh in our minds, we realized that we didn’t want to wait until she was gone to send up some words of appreciation.

Here’s the idea as my sister presented it. She collected our letters, which were based on the following format:

• Identify the top 2 things you like most about mom and why they’re meaningful to you. Add up to 3 more areas that you admire or like about her, (optional)
• When you think of mom, you think of __________(from 2 words to 2 sentences)
• Two important things that mom has taught you. (Can be more) This can be by her example as well, etc.
• Most important gift mom has given you.
• Favorite day, moment or memories with her (this is not limited but can expand as far as you’d like- beyond just one moment, day, experience too)
• Funniest or silliest memory of her (laughable moment/s).
• Your hopes, prayers or dreams for her now-what you would hope she will have/experience, related to her fulfillment.
• (Optional) One thing she doesn’t know about you that you’d like to her to know (it can be anything, silly or serious-the point is sharing something here with her that she doesn’t know yet know about you or your life, that you’d like her to know).
• Thanking her for … (Personal thanks for whatever comes to mind) (Some of these things may overlap but that’s fine).

A sampling of the responses from my nine brothers and sisters is posted here.

mom with Jackson and Cooper

My own contribution:

The two things I most appreciate about Mom: her generosity and her receptivity. She defines what it means to be recklessly large-hearted, and fearless of the pain that might come from making herself so vulnerable. And by receptive I mean welcoming, not in any formal, dutiful way… but genuinely ready to open herself to whoever would present themselves to her. And then there’s her sense of humor, generally self-deprecating but always alive to the incongruities of life and all that is inherently silly… without caving in to the temptation of being ironic or sarcastic in any form.

Like last Christmas Eve, when she and I spent a good hour traversing back and forth across Clark Fork looking for the Holy Grail of plumbing: a toilet plunger for the overflowing facility at Sacred Heart.

When I think of Mom, I think of lilies of the valley and sailboats, two things she’s fond of. Mom is like those delicate, fragrant flowers that change the whole aroma of the place without drawing attention to themselves, and like a sail open to wherever the Spirit might blow, and constantly tacking to see where the Wind might want to lead next. I think that’s how she taught me the value of discernment: testing everything, and keeping what is good.

Favorite memories include the lunches we shared together at the Burger King at Vine Hill and Highway 7, when I was in junior high school. I was just attending the junior high on a part-time basis, spending the rest of my time homeschooling. Generally, a bus would pick me up midday to take me to East Junior High. But from time to time, Mom would offer to drive me, so that we could have lunch together. It was just as the era of Home Covenant School ended, and during these undivided times shared with Mom, I felt I was getting to know her all over again.

My hope and prayer is that in this particular chapter in her life, she can look back with satisfaction on all of the artistry she has co-created — not the least the family she raised and nurtured with Dad — and look forward to all the new expressions of creative love that she has within her, waiting to be revealed in the days to come. She’s an artist of the human heart, with a canvas that has stretched as far as the eye can see… and a lot farther, I’m sure. There are realms of that canvas for her to revisit, and others to explore for the first time.

So I hope she’ll hop on her pontoon sailboat, so to speak, find the Wind like the expert sailor that she is, and set the course anew each day… touring that entire canvas, that whole work of art that is her life. It’s going to be a joy to watch.

From the archives: here’s a post I wrote in 2008 that provides a bit of background on some of the related issues.

watershed moment for feminists in the Catholic Church

the Christian life: comfort by way of upset

It would be interesting to take a survey, asking people two questions:

“What is the most comforting religion in the world?”

“What is the most upsetting religion in the world?”

It would be interesting to know what people would say to these two questions.

I think that the most comforting religion in the world would be Christianity, without question. And as far as what would be the most upsetting religion in the world, I think it also would be Christianity. I think it’s both. It is the most upsetting, and the most comforting, because of original sin. There’s just no way back to the Garden except through the experience of death.

Our life, right now, as we live it, in all of its comfort — in its native form for us… I don’t think we always want to leave this comfort nest, even if there’s something better, because we don’t know that something better.

Our life has really been turned upside-down by the Fall, and to turn it upside-right, we had better be ready for an upset. Imagine a boat sitting in Paradise on the waters of creation. Then imagine the boat being capsized. That’s what original sin has done to our existence. We’ve gotten very used to being in that tipped-over boat. That’s become our native home, that’s what we understand, that’s what we know: the experience of sin and of fear. And so now Christ comes, and He wants to right the boat again, but how do we receive that? We’re afraid, we’re threatened, we’re challenged by that. How dare he turn this boat over? How dare he upset our life? In fact, he’s righting the boat, but we experience it as an upset.

So the idea of Christianity is really that comfort comes by way of upset. We just don’t know it yet. When it’s all upset in our life, I think we discover the truth that finally the boat is being righted, and what we had become so familiar with was in fact just the pilgrim state of this valley of tears, and now we are discovering our true home in the Father’s house….

Evaluating one’s life in the light of the Last Things

I think it’s kind of good to make an annual self-evaluation during Holy Week.

Here’s a reflection on the last things, which I’ve based on Dr. Peter Kreeft’s discussion in his book Fundamentals of the Faith. He has a chapter on each of the Last Things. From those essays, I’ve constructed a self-interview of sorts. It’s an opportunity to make an evaluation of our lives in light of things ultimate.

The first question is about death:

What death am I facing — whether little or large — and how can I meet it with Christ? It might be fun to re-visit that question in a year and see if there has been any resurrection in this area or not.

The second question has to do with judgment:

The experience of judgment is the experience of being laid bare… everything is revealed. So the question is: What most needs to be laid bare in me or seen through the eyes of justice… (That’s what justice does… it sees everything)… for the sake of living more justly now, and so that Christ can touch and heal it? Christ is the divine Physician, but unless we show Him our wounds…. It’s not that He doesn’t know the wounds are there, but He needs us to relax enough so that He can actually tend to them.

The third question has to do with heaven:

The question is: What are my false heavens? Or what is my counterfeit paradise? Maybe I have several: maybe it’s the weekend; maybe it’s my job; maybe it’s a relationship. What are those things in my life which are not Paradise but for which I am happy to stop along the way because I’ve found this counterfeit? What keeps me from remembering that this is not a place of rest? I mean, the sabbath is, but other than that? We’re on pilgrimage. What will I do to keep a sense of pilgrimage alive? What will I do to keep my heart alive to the true goal of my existence? So we’re moving from a kind of examination to a resolution: What are we going to do about this?

Then lastly, hell:

What are the areas of drift or complacency in my life? Because I think for those of us who have decided to become Christians… to be baptized and to follow Christ and so forth… we have sort of set out on pilgrimage. It isn’t a question of whether or not I have heaven as a goal for me, but what will keep me from that is if I drift, if I get lax, if I get complacent. Where am I kind of drifting? And what am I going to do about that?

So give yourself some time this week to ask yourself these questions. It has been interesting for me to complete this exercise each year since a Triduum retreat in 2007; it’s been a grace to go back over it each year and to notice that I need to revisit some of them, but with others there really has been grace active in my life.

Blessed Easter!  May the Resurrection of Christ transfigure every corner of your existence. May your every tear be joy-stained; behind every upset, may you experience the joy of being discovered by the One who has upset it all, for love of you.

There is a beautiful ancient homily on Holy Saturday — we don’t even know who wrote it but it’s beautiful — in the Office of Readings today. Here is a short excerpt:

Something strange is happening — there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives of Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve… The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory….

I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.

(Office of Readings, Holy Saturday)

The mystery of Holy Saturday is a mystery of communion, of restored union: what was separated has now been reunited.

How does this happen? What is this mystery of communion which we are anticipating and which we celebrate tonight?

It is, primarily, the mystery of the Eucharist, the sacrament of communion. It is the most exalted mystery of God’s own heart, and of His love.

We’re on pilgrimage today into the very heart of God. Who does the Church give us to accompany us in this time? Who can really show us the way?

It’s Mary. She alone did not flee… did not panic… and did not despair. She is our guide through Holy Saturday, because she is the steward of the great mystery of the Eucharist.

I want to make a brief examination of her life, as it relates to her Son, who is the Bread of Life (John 6:35).

First we go back to the Annunciation. In this moment when the angel Gabriel appears to her, Mary becomes, in a very real way, Bethlehem. The word Bethlehem literally means “the house of bread”.

She is Bethlehem more truly than the town she visits nine months later: she received the Bread that the “house of bread” would not (Luke 2:7). She becomes the dwelling place of the Bread of Life, and she tends to this Bread for thirty years in a mystery of silence we know very little about.

Like the centurion, she calls out to God at the Annunciation: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof, but only say the word…” (Luke 7:6-7). She gives her assent: “Be it done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Now did she know what she was saying yes to? In the details? No.

But she was docile. She was receptive to the One who has come to her. You see, she said yes to a Someone, not a something. It wasn’t a yes to a plan, or a schedule, or a series of foreseen events.

The somethings of her yes were constantly being challenged and purified. Think of the Presentation in the Temple, when she was told that her heart too would be pierced by a sword (Luke 2:35). Think also of her discovery of Jesus in the Temple after a long search. Her Son asked her: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49)

The beauty of Mary is that, when confronted with the unknown and the unexpected, she does not flinch, cower or rant, but she receives it all, and ponders the word in her heart (Luke 2:51). Whatever word is spoken to her — whatever word — she receives confidently as a word of love coming from the very heart of God.

This strong, serene faith is seen at the wedding feast at Cana, when, in response to the news that they have no more wine, she responds by calling her Son into action. She tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5). Notice that she doesn’t spell out the plan of action herself, but simply refers them to her Son, trusting in His loving wisdom and power.

Fast forward now three years… to the very end of the life of her Son. As she receives the body of her Son when it is taken, lifeless, from the cross, she receives it lovingly. She kisses Him and gazes out at us as she holds Him. Her eyes are filled with grief, but no bitterness. “This is for you,” her eyes say to us.  She is the gracious hostess of the divine meal, expressing a hospitality that has cost her everything.

Her Son in her arms is no longer the thriving infant He once was, but a lifeless corpse. This is the annihilation of everything a mother’s heart could want for her child. And yet she is not raging. She’s not bitter. She’s not angry. She’s not clinging desperately to the body of her Son. Instead, she is holding Him with great tenderness and affection.

Why? Because she understands what it takes to make bread… in this case, the Bread of Life.

You see, all along the way of the Cross, her Son, the Bread of Life, was kneaded, pushed, contorted and bruised by the crowds. And now the bread will be covered with a shroud, and placed in the darkness, so that, three days later, it can rise.

So Saturday is a day of waiting. It’s a day of waiting for the Bread to rise, to be baked and to be ready for us. Saturday is Mary’s day, a day to wait with her, in stillness and in hope. And it’s a time to consider her service to the Eucharist, the Bread of Life.

What can this mean for us?

This evening, as you attend the Easter Vigil (or tomorrow, if you attend Mass then), as you go to receive the Eucharist after this long fast, think of giving delight to the hostess of this divine meal.

Give joy to her heart by letting her know that her task, her stewardship of this Bread, has been accomplished. Give her joy by letting her overhear you say to the Father, as you approach the Bread of Life, “Let it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Let her hear you expressing the words of the True Bethlehem: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word and I shall be healed” (Luke 7:6-7).

Let this voice of the True Bethlehem rise up across the face of the whole Church today, as all of us, Mary’s spiritual children, raise our voices in a single cry of hope and of love: “Give us this bread always” (John 6:34).

I turned the debate into a blog post (with a few edits):

it all started with a Facebook status update

However, this may be the stupidest idea ever:

Hacker group Anonymous takes down Vatican website

“Anonymous decided today to besiege your site in response to the doctrine, to the liturgies, to the absurd and anachronistic concepts that your for-profit organisation spreads around the world,” the hackers said in a statement. “This attack is not against the Christian religion or the faithful around the world but against the corrupt Roman Apostolic Church,” said the statement, posted on the Italian-language version of the Anonymous website.

I attended an Anonymous protest of Scientology in Los Angeles in 2008, and interviewed a few members. I particularly asked about their slogan: “We do not forgive; we do not forget.” They didn’t have much of a comeback about how that all works out. I blogged and podcasted about my experience.

My impression was that they were an idealistic group of young people, but with little philosophical basis for their movement. They hadn’t thought through their mission, which could be very dangerous. Their comments on my blogpost confirmed the suspicion, and, in a way, anticipated today’s decision to attack the Vatican’s site.

The guy who founded Xenu TV was trying to get them to be more thoughtful about their approach with Scientology, but it looks like it’s become just another vigilante movement now.

Time for a new twelve-step program: Anonymous Anonymous. “My name is… well, I can’t tell you my name… but I’m a recovering internet vigilante.”

At any rate, the film made such an impression on me that I decided to use it as my Lenten meditation: I went and saw the film every Friday of Lent that year, just as I would ordinarily pray the stations of the cross.

I had already planned to host a stations of the cross hike for young adults in the Verdugo Mountains on Palm Sunday. The day before the hike, I realized that I had no text to share with others as we prayed along the way. However, the images from Gibson’s film were etched clearly in my mind and suggested many points of meditation, so I decided to compose my own via crucis based upon the film.

I supplemented my meditations with some of my favorite quotes from various spiritual writers: Dietrich von Hildebrand, St. Josemaria Escriva, St. Ambrose of Milan, (then) Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, St. Leo the Great, Karol Wojytla, St. John of the Cross, Pope John Paul II, an ancient homily on Holy Saturday, and a closing prayer from (then venerable, now blessed) John Henry Cardinal Newman.

I’ve made the resulting text available on my website in multiple formats:

• PDF 
• MP3 audio
• Flash (interactive)
• HTML5 (mobile-friendly, interactive)

PS – Another multimedia stations of the cross — much more brief (around 4 minutes long) — is still available on my site here. I used some music from Schindler’s List for this one, which somehow seemed appropriate. I am reminded of a quote from Hildegard Brem which the Pope includes in his new book, Jesus of Nazareth, Part II: “The Jews themselves are a living homily to which the Church must draw attention, since they call to mind the Lord’s suffering.”

NOTE: The show was recorded before the February 10 announcement finalizing the mandate with modifications to place the burden of coverage on the insurance companies rather than directly on the employers.

Here are a few excerpts:

Twice [President Obama] has invited me to the Oval Office, not because of who I am as Timothy Dolan, but the first time because I was the new archbishop of New York and, just at the beginning of November, because I am now president of the [US] bishop’s conference. And he started off both of those meetings by saying, “You need to hear me say I have the highest regard for the work of the faith-based communities, particularly the Catholic Church in the United States.” In November, he said to me, “I have high regard for your work in education, healthcare, and charity. Number two, I don’t want my administration to impede that work in any way whatsoever. And number three, I consider the protection of conscience and religious liberty as one of my highest duties.”

Now when he called me on January 20th to tell me that he was not going to mitigate these strangling restrictions from HHS (Health and Human Services), I said, “Sir, can I remind you of  our — of what you told me in the Oval Office — didn’t you?” And he said, “Yes, I did.” And I said, “Can you tell me how what you’ve just told me gels with those three assurances you gave me? This is not… something’s gotta give here.”

* * *

I was asked this morning on a news program: “The White House seems to be hinting at a compromise. Are you open to a compromise?” I said, “I’m not open to a compromise. This is a huge mistake. You don’t compromise with a mistake. There’s no 50-yard line here, and you don’t compromise on principles.

I’m certainly open to an invitation towards a conciliatory approach where we would start afresh and where the President would say, “I want to make this work; how can we do it?” And I said, Father Benedict, “Darn it. He’s already got a graceful exit here.”

In the mandates themselves — which we find terribly choking and restrictive and I think are basically unconstitutional — in those mandates, guess what? The mandates themselves allow for a religious exemption. So they’ve already said, “We will grant a religious exemption.” Our problem is the exemption is so restrictive that nobody can meet up to it. You know what they’ve said? “We’ll exempt you from what we consider these immoral policies if you only hire Catholics, you only serve Catholics, and one of your major purposes is to convert people to the Catholic faith… not just Catholic, but any religion.”

We’re saying, “Wait a minute. We don’t serve people, teach people, feed people , heal people because they’re Catholic; we do it because we are. Alright? We don’t ask for baptismal certificates at the soup line down at St. Francis. Your friars don’t ask, do they?”

* * *

…They’ve already admitted that a religious exemption is called for. It’s just so strict that who can obey it? Sister Carol Keehan herself — as you know, she’s terribly disappointed because she had been cooperative with the President earlier on the healthcare stuff — she said, “Maybe a Catholic  housekeeper would fit into this.” This might apply to housekeepers in a Catholic parish. Other than that nobody’s going to comply. And Father Larry Snyder, the president of Catholic Charities USA said, “Even Jesus wouldn’t meet those requirements.” He didn’t ask for religious identification when he fed the 5,000.

But my point, Father, is that if he’s looking for a… graceful exit, he’s already admitted that an exemption is called for. Just give it latitude. And the federal government shouldn’t try to define the exemption. The federal government should simply say, “We would respect the right of religions to absent themselves from these requirements because they find them unconscionable.” Doesn’t that make sense to you?

* * *

When the President — on January 20th, when he was kind enough to call me with the disturbing news that he’s going to leave these mandates in — he says, “But Archbishop, don’t worry. We’re going to give you a year to decide how you can obey these.” And I said, “Sir, wait a minute. Be precise now. What’s the nature of this year before these mandates take effect? Does that mean we as a church can approach you for exemptions?” Now, I’d have trouble with that, because it’s not like… I mean, what have we come to: some grand government now that we have to go to them for permission to practice our faith? We’ve been through that, alright, in history, and that doesn’t work. That’s why this country was founded, to avoid that kind of stuff. I thought, “Does he mean that?” I said, “But sir, you’re saying that we’ve got a year now where there might be some opening to a wider exemption?” He said, “Oh, no no no. The mandates are going to go into effect; you’ve just got a year to figure out how you can abide by them. ” I said, “Sir, you’re telling me you’re giving me a year to figure out how to violate my conscience. Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need a year; I need 10 seconds. We can’t do it.”

Now if this happens, and we disobey, there are fines. Father Larry Snyder of Catholic Charities USA has said that as far as he can figure out, if Catholics Charities said “We can’t obey this. We can’t supply this type of insurance to our employees and our people, that we feel would violate our conscience,” the fines for Catholic Charities alone would be $140 million dollars a year. Money that could go you know where.

Arcbishop Dolan’s account of how the President described the purpose of the one year delay doesn’t really square with how President Obama and Kathleen Sebelius described it on February 10.

President Obama:

“And that’s why, from the very beginning of this process, I spoke directly to various Catholic officials, and I promised that before finalizing the rule as it applied to them, we would spend the next year working with institutions like Catholic hospitals and Catholic universities to find an equitable solution that protects religious liberty and ensures that every woman has access to the care that she needs.”

Kathleen Sebelius:

I think what people missed is that the announcement that I made two weeks ago suggested that we were moving ahead with the exemption that had been originally drafted, but, also, we would spend time reaching out to stakeholders, to religious employers who objected to offering this coverage, and we would spend a year finding arrangements that both respected their religious liberty, but made sure at the end of the day that women employees of these institutions, whether she was a university professor or a nurse or a janitor, could make their own determination about very important preventive health care.

The full interview between Archbishop Dolan and Father Groeschel is worth a listen.

Full podcast available here.

When a man claims to be proud of his family, proud of his alma mater, proud of his country or proud of his church, he is speaking of a pride that is not self-focused but focused on another. Indeed he feels a sense of greatness, but it is not a sense of his own greatness; it is a sense of being a part of something greater than himself; it is the greatness of the other that swells his heart. This is a pride that draws a man out of himself and towards something great. Since he is focused on an ideal, a goal, or a vision that is beyond him, he is called by this pride to do greater things, more virtuous things, and more courageous things, things that he otherwise would never be inspired to do of it was not for this pride. This is precisely the pride that I feel about being in the Dominican Order. I am part of an order that is older than I, larger than I; its mission, to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, existed long before I was born and will continue long after I die. I am both proud and humbled to be a part of something so great.

This is what St. Thomas Aquinas calls the virtue of Magnanimity and it is indeed a long forgotten virtue in our time.

Visit the new blog of the Western Student Dominicans: To God, About God.

I’ve updated my home page with a link to some resources put together by the Vatican, including passages from Sacred Scripture, reflection questions, and prayers for each day.

This year’s theme is taken from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: “We will all be changed by the victory of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor 15:51-58)

The image I chose is a photo of the dome of St. Paul’s Outside the Walls in Rome.

A teaser:

When Jesus’ disciples disputed over “who was the greatest” (Mk 9,34) it was clear that this impulse was strong. But Jesus’ reaction was very simple: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mk 9,35). These words speak of victory through mutual service, helping, boosting the self-esteem of those who are “last”, forgotten, excluded. For all Christians, the best expression of such humble service is Jesus Christ, His victory through death and His resurrection. It is in His life, action, teaching, suffering, death and resurrection that we desire to seek inspiration for a modern victorious life of faith which expresses itself in social commitment in a spirit of humility, service and faithfulness to the Gospel. And as he awaited the suffering and death that was to come, he prayed that his disciples might be one so that world might believe. This “victory” is only possible through spiritual transformation, conversion. That is why we consider that the theme for our meditations should be those words of the Apostle to the Nations. The point is to achieve a victory which integrates all Christians around the service of God and one’s neighbour.

As we pray for and strive towards the full visible unity of the church we – and the traditions to which we belong – will be changed, transformed and conformed to the likeness of Christ. The unity for which we pray may require the renewal of forms of Church life with which we are familiar. This is an exciting vision but it may fill us with some fear! The unity for which we pray is not merely a “comfortable” notion of friendliness and co-operation. It requires a willingness to dispense with competition between us. We need to open ourselves to each other, to offer gifts to and receive gifts from one another, so that we might truly enter into the new life in Christ, which is the only true victory.

Resources for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

If you’d like to add this Advent calendar to your website, you can copy and paste the code below:

<a href="http://www.doxaweb.com/advent/calendar.asp"><img src="http://www.doxaweb.com/advent/calendar_thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" width="120" height="100" /></a>

You can change the height and width as needed to make it fit on your site.

Interesting fact: C.S. Lewis died in his home at 5:30pm (GMT) on November 22, 1963. About two hours later, President John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, TX at 1:21pm (CST) and exactly six hours later, at 5:21pm (PST), Aldous Huxley, author of “Brave New World”, died in Los Angeles, CA.

Dr. Peter Kreeft has written a delicious fictional dialogue among these three men titled Between Heaven and Hell. The whole conversation takes place shortly after their deaths.

Hat tip to Brandon Vogt of The Thin Veil blog…

Such people do not simply assert: “There is no God.” They suffer from his absence and yet are inwardly making their way towards him, inasmuch as they seek truth and goodness. They are “pilgrims of truth, pilgrims of peace.” They ask questions of both sides. They take away from militant atheists the false certainty by which these claim to know that there is no God and they invite them to leave polemics aside and to become seekers who do not give up hope in the existence of truth and in the possibility and necessity of living by it. But they also challenge the followers of religions not to consider God as their own property, as if he belonged to them, in such a way that they feel vindicated in using force against others. These people are seeking the truth, they are seeking the true God, whose image is frequently concealed in the religions because of the ways in which they are often practiced. Their inability to find God is partly the responsibility of believers with a limited or even falsified image of God. So all their struggling and questioning is in part an appeal to believers to purify their faith, so that God, the true God, becomes accessible. Therefore I have consciously invited delegates of this third group to our meeting in Assisi, which does not simply bring together representatives of religious institutions. Rather it is a case of being together on a journey towards truth, a case of taking a decisive stand for human dignity and a case of common engagement for peace against every form of destructive force. (source)

Here’s a photo I took on May 1 during my pilgrimage to Rome for the beatification of John Paul II. I wasn’t able to be in Saint Peter’s Square for the beatification Mass, due to the large crowds, but I was able to enter the Basilica of Saint Peter that evening to pray before his casket, which was available for review until about 2 am the next morning. An estimated 250,000 people filed through the basilica that day to pay their respects and to pray.

The atmosphere that evening was solemn and an interesting coincidence of joy and sorrow. The security staff was trying to keep people moving through the basilica because of the enormous crowds waiting — I waited about three hours in the square before I was able to enter — but people simply wanted to linger  and to pray. Seven years after his passing from this life to the next, people were still grieving his loss as they celebrated his life. The scripture that came to mind was the encounter of Jesus with Mary of Magdala after the resurrection:

Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping. And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb and saw two angels in white sitting there, one at the head and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had been. And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” She thought it was the gardener and said to him, “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,” which means Teacher. Jesus said to her, “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary of Magdala went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and what he told her. (John 20:11-18)

Catholic News Agency has posted an article about Sr. Bernadette Pike, MG, who is spreading the word about John Paul II’s charism, spirituality and writings via new media.

Previous blog posts about John Paul II are available here.

Blessed John Paul II, pray for us.

Matthew Warner of flockNote.com, who was one of the presenters and panelists, blogged about his experience here.

When I have more time, I’ll post some highlights.

I recorded all of the talks using my iPhone. While the quality of some of the audio is not great — especially (and unfortunately) the lunchtime presentation by John Allen, Jr. — I’ve made all of it available as an audio podcast feed here:

feeds.feedburner.com/communicationsday2011

The Catholic Spirit has many of the resources from the day available at the following link:

thecatholicspirit.com/communicationsday2011

Definitely worth your time if you’re interested in ways to serve your parish or church organization with some of the new media of communication. Lots to think about.

More about the Catholicism video series here.

Hat tip to Matt Warner.

My most recent addition: a paper from college about Sartre’s play No Exit.

A short passage:

Jean-Paul Sartre, a twentieth-century author and philosopher, offers a rather unique view of hell: In his play entitled No Exit, hell is not a place where people are confronted with steaming coals and ghastly spirits. Instead, the torture of the damned is a group dynamic.

The rest of the essay is available here.

But his life was significant not only for what he created, but for who he was. By way of tribute to him, a few miscellaneous clips: his 2005 commencement address at Stanford, an article about a Catholic priest who inspired his love of typography, and a short video reminding us of a few of the many blessings that have come into our culture by way of those who have been adopted.

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Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

Steve Jobs, Commencement Address at Stanford University (2005)

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One of Jobs’ teachers and mentors: a Catholic priest

In 1972, Steve Jobs graduated from high school and enrolled in Portland’s Reed College. Although he dropped out after only one semester, he continued auditing calligraphy, while sleeping on the floor in friends’ rooms, returning bottles for food money, and getting weekly free meals at the local Hare Krishna temple.

His calligraphy teacher was Robert Palladino, a former Trappist monk and future archdiocesan priest.

“Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country,” Jobs said during a 2005 commencement address at Stanford University. “Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn’t have to take normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this.”

Palladino taught him about serif and sans serif type faces and about varying spaces between combinations of letters, and everything that makes typography good.

“It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture,” Jobs said.

Ten years later, when Jobs was desigining the first Macintosh computer, his calligraphy lessons came back to him. He even called his old teacher for advice.

“He introduced me to something called a ‘mouse,’” Father Palladino says.

Jobs and his partners designed the artistry into their machine and it became the first computer with lovely typography instead of robotic characters.

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