“Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.”
~William Morris
September 09, 2004
February 25, 2004
February 14, 2004
From Bill Cork's blog, "ut unum sint": I quoted to my son from Cardinal Ratzinger's fine book, Eschatology. Yes, Cardinal Ratzinger can be of great assistance in explaining purgatory to a fourteen-year-old:
Purgatory is not, as Tertullian thought, some kind of supra-worldly concentration camp where one is forced to undergo punishments in a more or less arbitrary fashion. Rather it is the inwardly necessary process of transformation in which a person becomes capable of Christ, capable of God, and thus capable of unity with the whole communion of saints. Simply to look at people with any degree of realism at all is to grasp the necessity of such a process. It does not replace grace by works, but allows the former to achieve its full victory precisely as grace. What actually saves is the full assent of faith. But in most of us, that basic option is buried under a great deal of wood, hay and straw. Only with difficulty can it peer out from behind the latticework of an egoism we are powerless to pull down with our own hands. Man is the recipient of the divine mercy, yet this does not exonerate him from the need to be transformed. Encounter with the Lord is this transformation. It is the fire that burns away our dross and re-forms us to be vessels of eternal joy.
Purgatory is not, as Tertullian thought, some kind of supra-worldly concentration camp where one is forced to undergo punishments in a more or less arbitrary fashion. Rather it is the inwardly necessary process of transformation in which a person becomes capable of Christ, capable of God, and thus capable of unity with the whole communion of saints. Simply to look at people with any degree of realism at all is to grasp the necessity of such a process. It does not replace grace by works, but allows the former to achieve its full victory precisely as grace. What actually saves is the full assent of faith. But in most of us, that basic option is buried under a great deal of wood, hay and straw. Only with difficulty can it peer out from behind the latticework of an egoism we are powerless to pull down with our own hands. Man is the recipient of the divine mercy, yet this does not exonerate him from the need to be transformed. Encounter with the Lord is this transformation. It is the fire that burns away our dross and re-forms us to be vessels of eternal joy.
September 29, 2003
Priscilla was talking with me after Mass yesterday. She said that parents of Down's Syndrome kids spend so much of the child's early life simply fighting for that life that they form an incredible bond with that child. I said I just wanted my niece to have a healthy baby, and she said don't we all. But then she added that later in life we learn that our children are all complicated.
Having healthy children is no guarantee you won't suffer greatly over them in this life.
Having healthy children is no guarantee you won't suffer greatly over them in this life.
July 25, 2003
March 05, 2003
Any alleged Christianity which fails to express itself in cheerfulness, at some point, is clearly spurious. The Christian is cheerful, not because he is blind to injustice and suffering, but because he is convinced that these, in the light of the divine sovereignty, are never ultimate.
... Elton Trueblood, The Humor of Christ
Wherever... thou shalt be, pray secretly within thyself. If thou shalt be far from a house of prayer, give not thyself trouble to seek for one, for thou thyself art a sanctuary designed for prayer. If thou shalt be in bed, or in any other place, pray there; thy temple is there.
... Bernard of Clairvaux
... Elton Trueblood, The Humor of Christ
Wherever... thou shalt be, pray secretly within thyself. If thou shalt be far from a house of prayer, give not thyself trouble to seek for one, for thou thyself art a sanctuary designed for prayer. If thou shalt be in bed, or in any other place, pray there; thy temple is there.
... Bernard of Clairvaux
January 26, 2003
Do not look forward to what might happen tomorrow; the same Everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you an unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations. -- St Francis de Sales
January 18, 2003
My rant about death!
Everybody dies. Young fathers die. Kids die. Death doesn't care if you are an infant, a young person, whether you are good or bad. The mortality rate is 100% and it all seems so random.
It seems so unfair when young people die. They didn't have enough chance at life. They missed motherhood, fatherhood. Romance, wisdom. And the people left behind are devastated. I would be devastated if any of my kids died before me.
Auntie Blanche outlived four of her five daughters. And she was still serene and gracious. My Mom still has seven living children. But all of us have presented her with worries and suffering.
I don't want any of my kids to die before me. And I don't want them to suffer. And I don't want them to suffer about their kids. So I don't want my grandkids to get sick or to die, or to suffer either. And I don't want anyone to be afraid, of war, of violent crimes, or of death.
I want us all to live in perfect peace and safety. But that is not going to happen in this life. So I should just accept it and try to make peace with the idea of suffering.
I used to think I could pray it all away. I think I have prayed compulsively, right along with my worrying. And I have felt extremely guilty about my fear staying with me in spite of my prayers. It seemed that I did not trust God. But now I am starting to think that my obsessive anxiety has fueled my prayers, and so I may be forgiven for not "trusting." It's more a symptom of this obsession, not a judgment on my faith.
So now I just want to live a generous life, and make peace with suffering and death. It has always seemed weird to me that I worry more about my kids' death than my own -- which is why I can see that it probably has a lot to do with OCD. I even saw praying for people on a list of OCD behaviors. And it was an instant insight.
How can I grow in peace and trust? How can I let go of the anxiety, and not credit mainly the zoloft?
I suppose I can still learn to pray in confidence instead of in desperation to escape suffering. I am losing interest in so many things, perhaps I am depressed. I know I am depressed. I don't want more zoloft though, because I would like to get a handle on all this through counseling.
Making peace, letting go, having confidence and hope that all will be well. To do that I have to believe in God's gift of eternal life. I do believe, Lord help my unbelief. I want to believe in it so strongly that I see death as nothing to fear or resist, for myself or for my loved ones. But God is the one who gives us this will to live, to survive, to fight against death.
It doesn't yet make sense to me to have God be the one who both wills us to fight to live and wills us to not fear death. It seems to be an impossible tension. I cannot reconcile it. Every time I think I am ready to let go of loved ones, I take it back. Every time I think I am ready to die, I take it back. Then I desire immediately to not fear it, because fearing the death of my kids and loved ones makes me miserable.
So my desire to make peace with death is mostly self-interest. If I can just learn peace, I can stop this obsessive worry, which is truly a lot of suffering. I want out of the suffering. Maybe the selfish motive undermines the whole process. If I can learn to trust confidently in God's ability to bring me through all suffering, then I can allow suffering into the lives of my kids ( as if I have any control over it at all). Then my prayers can be less prayers of intense worry, and instead bring me closer to God, make me more like Jesus. That's so far off. I am just beginning to know myself.
There are also thoughts of war on everybody's mind. Suffering suffering suffering everywhere. C.S. Lewis saves my sanity by showing that suffering is not additive. There is no more actual suffering in the world than the suffering of the one person who is suffering the most. However, that can still seem horrendous, when I think of innocent babies suffering. I can't even read The Brothers Karamazov.
Everybody dies. Young fathers die. Kids die. Death doesn't care if you are an infant, a young person, whether you are good or bad. The mortality rate is 100% and it all seems so random.
It seems so unfair when young people die. They didn't have enough chance at life. They missed motherhood, fatherhood. Romance, wisdom. And the people left behind are devastated. I would be devastated if any of my kids died before me.
Auntie Blanche outlived four of her five daughters. And she was still serene and gracious. My Mom still has seven living children. But all of us have presented her with worries and suffering.
I don't want any of my kids to die before me. And I don't want them to suffer. And I don't want them to suffer about their kids. So I don't want my grandkids to get sick or to die, or to suffer either. And I don't want anyone to be afraid, of war, of violent crimes, or of death.
I want us all to live in perfect peace and safety. But that is not going to happen in this life. So I should just accept it and try to make peace with the idea of suffering.
I used to think I could pray it all away. I think I have prayed compulsively, right along with my worrying. And I have felt extremely guilty about my fear staying with me in spite of my prayers. It seemed that I did not trust God. But now I am starting to think that my obsessive anxiety has fueled my prayers, and so I may be forgiven for not "trusting." It's more a symptom of this obsession, not a judgment on my faith.
So now I just want to live a generous life, and make peace with suffering and death. It has always seemed weird to me that I worry more about my kids' death than my own -- which is why I can see that it probably has a lot to do with OCD. I even saw praying for people on a list of OCD behaviors. And it was an instant insight.
How can I grow in peace and trust? How can I let go of the anxiety, and not credit mainly the zoloft?
I suppose I can still learn to pray in confidence instead of in desperation to escape suffering. I am losing interest in so many things, perhaps I am depressed. I know I am depressed. I don't want more zoloft though, because I would like to get a handle on all this through counseling.
Making peace, letting go, having confidence and hope that all will be well. To do that I have to believe in God's gift of eternal life. I do believe, Lord help my unbelief. I want to believe in it so strongly that I see death as nothing to fear or resist, for myself or for my loved ones. But God is the one who gives us this will to live, to survive, to fight against death.
It doesn't yet make sense to me to have God be the one who both wills us to fight to live and wills us to not fear death. It seems to be an impossible tension. I cannot reconcile it. Every time I think I am ready to let go of loved ones, I take it back. Every time I think I am ready to die, I take it back. Then I desire immediately to not fear it, because fearing the death of my kids and loved ones makes me miserable.
So my desire to make peace with death is mostly self-interest. If I can just learn peace, I can stop this obsessive worry, which is truly a lot of suffering. I want out of the suffering. Maybe the selfish motive undermines the whole process. If I can learn to trust confidently in God's ability to bring me through all suffering, then I can allow suffering into the lives of my kids ( as if I have any control over it at all). Then my prayers can be less prayers of intense worry, and instead bring me closer to God, make me more like Jesus. That's so far off. I am just beginning to know myself.
There are also thoughts of war on everybody's mind. Suffering suffering suffering everywhere. C.S. Lewis saves my sanity by showing that suffering is not additive. There is no more actual suffering in the world than the suffering of the one person who is suffering the most. However, that can still seem horrendous, when I think of innocent babies suffering. I can't even read The Brothers Karamazov.
November 13, 2002
November 09, 2002
Hard to Get
Rich Mullins
Psalm 77:7-13, Isaiah 53:4, Isaiah 55:8-9
Matthew 5:4, Matthew 6:11, Luke 22:41-45
Romans 7:18-19, Romans 7:24-25
You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath
While You're up there just playing hard to get
You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You're up there just playing hard to get?
And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can't see what's ahead
And we can not get free of what we've left behind
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can't see how You're leading me unless You've led me here
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get
November 05, 2002
The only way we can avoid being a burden is to avoid being lovable.... My children have been a burden to me, and bearing that burden has been the only substance of my life. It's made me feel alive and well and necessary and needed. Bearing the burden of their parents' deaths should make children feel just as alive and necessary and needed. ~Thomas Lynch
November 04, 2002
The magnificent For All The Saints, words by William Walsham How (1823-1897) with the tune Sine Nomine by Ralph Vaughn Williams (1872-1958) and published in The English Hymnal, 1906.
For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the Apostles’ glorious company,
Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,
Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
And singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the Apostles’ glorious company,
Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,
Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!
From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
And singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!
October 30, 2002
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.
~ from The Confessions of St. Augustine
~ from The Confessions of St. Augustine