Category Archives: Uncategorized

Meet the Great Anthony Esolen

I’m back from a long posting delay. I apologize, but I have excuses (who doesn’t). I have been busy with the Cornerstone Catholic Scripture Study program, among other things. (If your church does not have it or another Bible study group for adults, it should. Cornerstone is one of many.)

And it’s the holiday season, and what not. End of excuses.

But I have been reading some other excellent online magazine essays by great writers, which I strongly recommend to you, dear reader.

Anthony Esolen may be the greatest writer in Christendom today. He publishes in many places, including the monthly Magnificat daily missal, as well as Crisis online and monthly on The Catholic Thing. Also from time to time on The Imaginative Conservative and First Things and who knows where else. OK, here’s who knows: while writing this I just discovered a website called Muck Rack (?), which has a profile and list of his published articles here. Some are unavailable without a subscription, but many or most are not. (The ones I have linked above are all free.)

His latest Crisis piece is entitled “Answering Anti-Christians”, and we should each memorize it (or carry a copy around in our wallets).

If you already read Esolen and any or all of these magazines and are reading my poor blog, I am overwhelmed with humility for even mentioning this. But if Esolen and any of these free sites are new to you, fix some coffee and start reading. Then let me know what you think, at “post a comment” below.

Check Out “Squirrely”

I see my good friend Mr. Moleman has posted a link to my Reminiscence about Mr. B (see below).

In appreciation of his kind gesture, I would suggest you take a look at his post “Squirrely”, a short story about the radical politics of the squirrels around us. You will enjoy it.

WILLIS A. BOUGHTON – A Reminiscence

In my misspent youth I was helped along by a remarkable man.  In the 1960’s, he was a youth group counselor for the MYF (Methodist Youth Group) at St. Andrews, a neighborhood church in a working class area of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.

Willis A. Boughton was born in 1885, so when I met him he was already in his 70’s; quite a contrast from the millennial hipsters so common in today’s church youth ministries (see babylonbee.com for more info on the type.)

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, all tangled up

St. Paul famously articulated the theological virtues: “Now abideth these three; Faith, Hope and Love.”

While he went on to crown one of them above the others (1 Corinthians 13:13, “the greatest of these is love”), he otherwise left this trinity of virtues unclarified. How are they related? Is there a connection between them?  Aren’t faith and hope the same thing, kind of? Did he separate them just to have three things in the list?

Elsewhere we read that “faith is the substance of things hoped for”, which certainly suggests a strong linkage between those two. The continuation of that passage (in Hebrews 11:1), “and the proof of things unseen”, fits our modern definition of faith more closely. But the link between faith and hope seems to want further consideration.

More modern translations suggest somewhat different meanings. The NAB calls faith “the realization of what is hoped for”. The NIV has “faith is being sure of what we hope for”.  The Jerusalem Bible reaches further, with “only faith can guarantee the blessings that we hope for”.  The Greek text uses the word “hypostasis” which elsewhere is usually translated as “substance,” so I stick with the RSV or KJV.

Faith, then, is the underlying reality of our hopes. But I am still confused about this “F-H-L” trinity.

Trying to untangle this knot in my mind, I tried subtraction.

Can there be hope without faith?  Or faith without hope?  And the real clincher, can we have love without faith or hope?

Hope without faith? This one comes up first and has troubled me for a long time.  Before I found faith in God, I faced what seemed to me to be a world and a future without hope.

Throughout my (almost-seventy-year-long) youth, I always had faith.  Faith in myself, in my wisdom. Faith in the basic goodness of others (“People Are Basically Good”, or PABGoo). Faith in historical and political progress. Faith in Marx and Hegel and Comte and Nietzsche.  Humanist faith: faith in humanity.  (Like Blanche Dubois, I always relied on the kindness of strangers.) And so I always had hope.

One thing linked all these faiths together: they were all as false as false can be.  And they all failed.

They failed because they could not stand exposure to reality, nor survive their own confrontation with the real world. 

(If you, dear reader, still have faith in these things, then pass on. If you are in doubt about them, I can suggest a reading list. Or you can simply reflect on the state of our world today.)

Yet we need faith, of some sort, faith in something or someone.  Why do we need faith?  Because we need hope, and we cannot have that without faith.  (The worldly, humanist faiths I listed above seem rather embarrassed about this fact, and avoid it by re-labeling hopeful faith as “optimism.”)

So we may conclude that hope without faith is impossible.

What about faith without hope? Are there hopeless faiths? I don’t know of any; do you? Our need for hope seems to be a basic component of human nature; hopelessness is the door to suicide.  And only faith can supply hope.

The need for faith is therefore downstream from the need for hope; faith flows from the need for hope, but hope flows from faith.

Perhaps this is a form of understanding faith as the substance of things hoped for. We hope for peace and joy; and faith gives us the substance of peace and joy.

But what about Virtue Number 3, “the greatest of these”?  To clarify, we are talking about love for others in the broadest sense, including but extending far beyond sexual or romantic love, beyond love of family. We are talking about love for others, for strangers. The Greek word is agape, as distinct from eros. Charity is a common English synonym.

Can there be such love without faith or hope?

The answer is yes. Of course, yes.

Love without hope, hopeless love, is a staple of romantic and tragic literature.  

Everybody loves, to some extent and in some way.  It is built into our human nature, as is the need for hope.  And everybody has faith, in something or other.  But, as we have seen, false faiths produce false and feeble hopes.  They also produce feeble loves.

Faith in humanity is ultimately faith in oneself. And self-faith is self-worship, leading nowhere good. Moreover, self-worship requires willful blindness to one’s weakness.  If you are your own god, you are doomed to perpetual disappointment.

Yet the false faith in humanity is still compatible with love for others.  Why is this?

And even the most hopeless person can feel love.  How can this be? 

To the Christian, the answer is clear.  We are created to love. The God who created us is a loving God, and we are therefore made, designed, blessed with the ability to love.  That is a part of what it means that we are created in God’s image.

What about those without faith or hope?  Or, more correctly, those with only false faiths and therefore false hopes (since, as we have seen, everyone has faith and hope of some kind)?

They, too, love. Indeed, the apostles of humanity-worship are often the loudest in their claims of love for all, and not all of their claims are mere posturing.  We all know many folks who scoff at the Bible, but still are generous in helping others, open-handed in charity and open-hearted in volunteering.  They do it because they know it is right.

But they do not know why it is right. 

Love, like faith and hope, is an inherently and universally human thing.  But unlike the other two, love for others does not seem to confer evolutionary advantage (except in the case of love for family and offspring), while truly hopeless individuals are at a distinct disadvantage in the Darwinian struggle for survival.  Science has made some half-hearted attempts to explain love in genetic terms (beyond love of children or self-love of genes), but without much success.  And, as in the case of hope/optimism, a certain embarrassment with the biblical terminology has required the coining of a new term: “altruism”.

 NOTE: I have written elsewhere about hope and its particular difficulties: The Little Girl Hope, Hope is the Hardest, and Hope Without Faith. Let me know what you think about any or all of this.

Shape-Notes and Psalms

Have you heard of Shape Note Hymn Singing? I hadn’t until recently.

It is a traditional form of protestant hymn-singing, experiencing a small resurgence in parts of the country. Variously called “Fasola”, or “Sacred Harp”, it is beautiful, striking, sometimes boisterous and even raucous, and weirdly haunting. If you are not familiar with it, check out this clip. Going Home Mountain Shape Note singing – YouTube

The style (and many of the hymns) arose out of poor, rural, musically illiterate Appalachian communities, and are joyous celebrations of release from hard lives. They often follow the line of what were once called Negro spirituals (and are now properly African-American spirituals). Compare “Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home” or “Deep river, my home is over Jordan”, with “I’m glad that I am born to die, from grief and woe my soul shall fly, and I don’t care to stay here long!”  They all speak from hard lives of misery, poverty and oppression, and they look forward to rest and relief in heaven.  Even putting aside the extremity of suffering that slavery added to poverty, the common themes are striking.  Life is hard but heaven is near; and so we turn to God.

Efficacy of Prayer?

I am fully convinced of the necessity of prayer (after all, everyone prays), and of the benefit I receive from praying. My prayers change me, internally, in my soul.  St. Thomas Aquinas calls it spiritual refreshment of the mind, and I can truly feel it.

But does it do anything else?  Does it actually benefit or help those I pray for?  If so, why?

Note: I do not ask how; if God wants to grant my prayers, it is certainly within His power.

But why?  Do I have some special “pull” with God?  If I ask Him to heal my sick brother, will He do it because I asked?  Why not heal all who are sick?  Does He then withhold healing from those who have no brother to pray for them? That doesn’t sound like Him.

Aquinas vigorously defends the efficacy of prayer, citing ”impetration”.

“The effect of prayer is threefold. The first is an effect which is common to all acts quickened by charity, and this is merit. The second effect of prayer is proper thereto, and consists in impetration...the original intention, to which God looks chiefly, suffices to attain this effect…The third effect of prayer is that which it produces at once; this is the spiritual refreshment of the mind.”  St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica II-II Q. 83 Art. 13)

Impetration being an unfamiliar term, I had to look it up.  The online Catholic Dictionary (1910) says:

(Latin: impetrare, to ask and obtain a request)

(1) The begging of favors.

(2) Theologically, one of the fruits of good works and especially of the Mass and prayer; one of the four ends of the Mass, which regards man. Impetration accompanied by right dispositions and certain conditions will infallibly gain us every gift and avert every evil.

This seems to state that my prayers for my brother’s healing will be granted if I pray with the right dispositions and conditions.  So it depends on me.  But what if I fail to pray for my brother?   Shall he suffer for my sin?  What of those with no one to pray for them?  Suffering for the sins of others is the role of Christ; for the rest of us, Jeremiah’s “sour grapes” injunction (31:29) holds: “Everyone will die for his own sins.”

I know that the Gospels repeatedly and forcefully tell us that God will grant our prayers, if we pray in Jesus’ name.

So my questions all have the same answer.  Yes, prayer (properly prayed) is effective, because Jesus said so.  It is revealed.

Revelation is given to us for those things we cannot ascertain by reason alone.  But revelation should not violate reason; it is to go beyond reason, not to contradict reason.  That is the thrust of Fides Et Ratio, as well as Benedict XVI’s Regensburg Lecture.  On the most basic level of non-self-contradiction, Christianity MUST MAKE SENSE.

I’d really appreciate it If someone can help me make sense of this. 

In the meantime, I’ll just keep on praying.

“Lord, I believe.  Help thou my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

Retirement And Its Uses

What is Retirement?  In one sense, it is a wholly negative term, defined by what it is not.  As darkness is the absence of light, retirement is the absence of work (at least paid work).  A void in time, created for both positive and negative reasons.  The upside is that retirement, if properly prepared for, allows one to live without earning a paycheck.  Savings, Social Security, and pensions can combine to make paid work unnecessary. The negative is that the aging process can reduce or destroy the worker’s ability to continue working.

So retirement is the non-existence of the need to work for pay.   Some continue working in “retirement”, or past the “usual retirement age” defined by Social Security eligibility, for various reasons: poverty (lack of savings), avarice (desire to accumulate wealth beyond need), or because they enjoy their work, or boredom (“what else would I do all day?”).

The “what-else-would-I do-all-day?” folks make an interesting point.  What do retirees do with their time?

They seem busy, but if you ask them what they are busy doing, you get confused answers; they’re not sure why they are so busy, they just are. (Spare me your senility jokes.)

(An enterprising sociology professor should get a big government/NGO grant to study this. An army of clipboard-armed grad students following old people around all day, noting their every move, would certainly liven things up in Phoenix or Broward County.)

All joking aside, the use of time is an issue for everyone; but circumstances push it to the forefront for retirees.

Some clever person has observed that “Millions long for immortality who don’t know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.”  Coronavirus lockdowns have made this an everyday problem for many.

Time is a difficult thing to wrap one’s hands around.  In old age we have lots of time on our hands but very little time left on earth.  How does one deal with that?  We are told that time is relative, and anyone who has watched the last two minutes of an NFL or NBA game knows that to be true.

Some treat retirement as an extended vacation.  Others maximize social activities or hobbies.  The new-old (younger and healthier) retirees can turn it into a re-lived or re-imagined high school. Their idols are restored classic cars from the 50’s and 60’s.  Retirement communities like The Villages in central Florida cater to all these themes.

So retirement can be like an extended vacation, an endless life of socializing after golf, or an eternal summer before their senior year. (Or a post high-school “gap year” of travel.)

Is there another way of looking at it?

Jewish theologian Abraham J. Heschel touched on an aspect of all this in his essay “The Sabbath: Holiness In Time”.  He posits a contrast between time and space.

“Judaism is a religion of time, aiming at the sanctification of time.

Every one of us occupies a portion of space…Yet no one possesses time.  We share time, we own space.

Indeed, we know what to do with space but do not know what to do about time… We suffer from a deeply rooted dread of time and stand aghast when compelled to look in its face… ”

For Heschel, the Sabbath is the focal point of the Jewish sense of holiness in time.  And while retirement is generally defined in negative terms (non-work), the Sabbath reverses this.

“The Sabbath is not for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of the Sabbath.  It is not an interlude, but the climax of living.  Three acts of God denoted the Seventh Day: He rested, He blessed, and He hallowed the Seventh Day (Genesis 2:2-3).”

(This may appear similar to the conception of our modern week-end.  As an old song* had it, “Everybody’s working for the weekend.” But that image of the weekend is closer to the high school model than to the Sabbath. Still…)

If the workweek is for the Sabbath, could that mean that the working life is for the retirement?

Prior to the last century, and even now outside the prosperous industrial world, it was and is certainly not the case.  Retirement, if it happened at all, occurred when the worker was no longer of any use in gainful employment, becoming an economic burden on his family (at best).

But here and now, retirement has expanded (even exploded) as a highly desirable, wealthy, and sustainable demographic.  Social Security in all developed countries provides an income floor.  Savings (often tax-sheltered) and private pensions add to the comfort level. The elderly are now, on average, among the most prosperous sectors of our society (there is, of course, a cohort of the elderly poor: but they do not predominate).  One has only to visit retirement communities in Florida, Arizona, or anywhere else warm, to see this.  Golf cart-accessible “villages”, boomer classic car gatherings (high school redux!), and second homes (for those who find Arizona too hot or Florida too muggy in summer) abound.

What’s wrong with that, one may ask? Nothing; but it is not the Sabbath.  It is not holy.

(Of course, modern retirement often resembles the customary modern secular sabbath, devoted to socializing and spectator sports.)

But can retirement be a time for awareness of and participation in the holiness of time?  If not “instead”, then at least “in addition”?  What would that look like?

Daily mass?  Morning and evening prayer?  Time with family?  Volunteering at the hospital, school, or food bank, to help those in need?

In fact, this describes the regular life of many good Catholics, even during their working years.  How much more so could retirement be?

Holiness in time: maybe  it isn’t just for Sundays anymore.

____________________

*1981 song by Canadian band Loverboy, containing the following:

Everybody’s working for the weekend

Everybody wants a little romance

Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end

Everybody needs a second chance,

The album was titled “Get Lucky”.

Moleman on…

My friend Mister Moleman just posted a new mini-essay, and it is worth a look.

Titled “Civilizations Can Die, Too“.  It is about…I can hardly say what.

Hope is the Hardest

I often think (and write) about Hope.  “The Little Girl Hope” was inspired by a French poet and a little neighbor of mine. “Hope Without Faith” was an early attempt to figure it out.

St. Paul recognized its place as one of the three theological virtues: “So Faith, Hope, and Love abide, these three.”  He then clarified that “the greatest of these is Love.

This is from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, his justly famous ode to love.  “If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love…”  You know the rest.

He is of course correct.  Faith that does not result in love is nothing, because an unloving faith is a false faith.  Faith is what produces love, and love is faith in action.  Faith is input, love is output.  Hope works the same way.  Hope is another output of faith.

The greatest of these is love.” But the hardest of these is hope. For me, anyway, these days.

Of course, there is no hope without faith. That is why we so eagerly grab for easy false faiths.  But hope built on false faiths is false hope. Continue reading

When We (George Weigel and I) Consider Thy Heavens

I am glad to see the valuable and insightful Mr. George Weigel calling attention (on the insightful, valuable First Things.com) to the powerful (if inadvertent) ministry of the NASA folks at APOD. If only all our taxpayer dollars were spent this wisely.

Weigel’s post is entitled “The Heavens Declare the Glory of God.” If that sounds familiar, it is from the often-quoted Psalm 19.

As my faithful readers know, I have been following APOD for years.

As I have said, every new image I see paints a wider, deeper, and more wonderful picture of the universe our Lord has created. And the incomprehensible distance grows between this universe and its beginning in an infinitesimally small seed in the palm of God’s hand barely 14 billion years ago.

Every APOD is a proclamation of the greater glory of God. “When I consider Thy Heavens, the work of Thy hands…” (Psalm 8:3)

Here are some of my favorites (most recent first): Continue reading