O Ben Finiti
My Helena Montana friend Mike Boyle has reminded me of what a treasure of Christendom we have in our beautiful cathedral. He was responding to an excellent (but sad) post on OnePeterFive.com, “Christendom Was Glorious, But It’s Almost Gone”, by Steve Skojec, lamenting the demolition of beautiful old catholic churches in Europe.
Last week I celebrated an anniversary of some significance, at least to me.
Not my birthday. Not my wedding anniversary, which my wonderful wife of over 47 years (wow!) and I celebrate in November.
Here’s a hint: In Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance, the plot turns on a paradox. The hero, Frederick, was in his youth apprenticed to a pirate. (Which was an error, of course, the result of a failure to communicate; he was supposed to be apprenticed to a pilot.) He detests piracy, but his sense of duty compels him to complete his apprenticeship term at age 21. Unfortunately (SPOILER ALERT) his apprentice contract was poorly written, to end on his 21st birthday. But (SPOILER ALERT) he was born on Leap Year Day, Feb. 29, and only has a birthday every four years. So, he still has sixty-plus years to go. (If you haven’t seen or read the play, you really ought to.)
Anyway, last Saturday, the Feast of Saint Matthew, was the anniversary of my baptism and confirmation into the Catholic Church; my Second Anniversary. (That’s right. It took me almost seven decades to figure out where I belonged. I’ll bet it didn’t take YOU that long, dear reader.) My re-birthday, if you will.
I can therefore paraphrase Frederick, singing:
“Though counting in the usual way,
Years seventy-one I’ve rocked and rolled.
Yet counting from my re-birth day,
I am a little two-year old.”
[Sorry about the “rocked and rolled”; I am not a very good poet.]
It is a strange and wonderful thing to be both an old man and a young Christian; aged in years but youthful (even childish) in the faith.
So if you see me around town, feel free to wish me a Happy Re-birthday. (A friend in college once received a birthday card stating “It’s my birthday! Buy me a beer!” He wore it pinned to his shirt for weeks, gradually hitting every bar in town.)
Note: Saint Matthew is not only my patron saint, but also that of (among others) tax collectors. This is based on the tradition that he was one himself. That may be why I Continue reading
Today’s featured APOD stunner is M31, the Andromeda Galaxy. At a mere 2 million light years away from our own Milky Way, it is our nearest major galactic neighbor. (See Luke 10:29; “And who is my neighbor?”)
“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)
It is a cliché to express a sense of human littleness in the face of the unthinkably enormous scope of the universe. But here, as in all things, one must retain a sense of perspective. For this unimaginable immensity is just the grown-up phase of a creation that once was small enough to fit in its creator’s hand (or yours, for that matter.) And we are fashioned in the image of that same creator.
A cliché that is both true and more useful: Biblical religion both humbles us (in the face of the majesty of God) and elevates us (for we are created in the image of that majestic God). This balance of our smallness and our greatness is mirrored in face of our universe, so huge and yet once so small.
By contrast, as theologian Reinhold Niebuhr put it, “Both the majesty and the tragedy of human life exceed the dimension within which modern culture seeks to comprehend human existence.”
In Crisis Magazine today, Chilton Williamson Jr. has published a thought-provoking article about people dressing down for mass (“In the Image of Slob”). Like him, I notice a lot of shorts, tee shirts, and flip-flops; and I also notice my tendency to feel judgmental about this, and I try to re-route my thinking, being glad that they are in church at all. (The “snob” in the title is obviously me.)
After he read it, my friend Mister Moleman re-posted an essay from 2001 by noted deep-thinker Charles Murray, entitled “Prole Models; America’s Elites take their cues from the underclass“, putting the issue in the perspective of the disintegration of our society.
Both are well worth reading.
“Late have I loved thee, O beauty, so ancient and so new.”
(“Sero te amavi, pulchritudo, tam antiqua et tam nova.” St. Augustine, Confessions)
My parish church in Helena, Montana: St. Helena Cathedral.
I-phone photo taken today, a block from my Helena home.
(First Published March 28, 2014)
As I have written below, I have spent many years trying to find God. I have found much Judeo-Christian theology coherent, consistent with reality, and therefore highly plausible.
But I still cannot convince myself that the other coherent, consistent worldview, atheistic materialism, is not also plausible.
Many authors have helped me along; I will list and discuss them sometime. But nothing so far has been quite so compelling as this quote from atheist guru Richard Dawkins:
“The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference.”
This chilling statement, offered in support of Dawkins’ atheism, is from his book Rivers of Eden, which I found quoted in Francis Collins’ The Language of God. (I recommend Collins’ book highly. He was the director of the Human Genome Project and current NIH Director as well as a Christian.)
I expect to be contemplating this for a long time.
or, Truman’s Cheek
[Dear Reader: The following essay departs from my usual areas of observation. It is the result of a quick collaboration with my friend Hans Moleman, who filled me in on some of the historical facts.(He has thoughtfully co-posted this at his site mistermoleman.com.) And my dissent here indicates no disrespect for the excellent work done every day by Relevant Radio, which I love.]
On August 6, the terrible anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, I was listening to the indispensable Catholic media outlet Relevant Radio, and I heard a curious interview with Msgr. Stuart Swetland on the subject of the day.
It made me think of Calvin Coolidge who is credited with many laconic (and probably apocryphal) anecdotes; my favorite is his supposed comment on returning from church one Sunday. Asked what the preacher spoke on, he answered: “Sin.” Further asked: “What did he say about it?”, Cal responded: “He was against it.”
It would be unjust and uncharitable to summarize the monsignor’s take on Hiroshima in so many words. He acknowledged the difficult situation and the tough decisions that faced those engaged in what was unquestionably a just war. But his conclusion was as straightforward as Coolidge’s: It was a sin, and Truman should not have done it.
The monsignor argued from Catholic doctrine, which appears to have recently reached the same conclusion. And he offered some historical “facts” in support. But the facts are questionable, and the arguments seem confused.
I am certainly not qualified to argue theology with any monsignor (though I will try, later.) But facts are facts, and assumptions are not.
There are many points to consider. Monsignor Swetland stated, with varying degrees of certitude, the following “facts”. The Japanese government was about to surrender anyway. The Russians were about to tell Truman about a Japanese peace proposal. Invasion of the Japanese homeland would not have been necessary. The invasion’s half-million US casualties anticipated by US military planners would not have occurred.
These things are nice to know. I bet Truman would have liked to know them with the certainty that his posthumous critics know them. Continue reading
These “Mighty Mice” (astronomers can be quite poetic) are two enormous galaxies in the process of tearing each other apart. They have actually passed through each other and are pulling away.
Also this one, galaxy M96:
Both courtesy of NASA’s APOD (Astronomy Picture of the Day, the best use our tax dollars have ever been put to.)
And remember: a hundred billion galaxies of a hundred billion stars each, every star a sun; and once so tiny it would fit in the palm of your hand.
For more, check out here: “nasa.apod.gov“, or Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of God.”
A Small Thought…about TALKING TO MYSELF
I have a habit of talking to myself. I have done so all my life. Mostly I do it silently, confining my conversation to my mind. But when no one else is around, I sometimes speak out loud.
It can be like I am reading a play, acting all parts. (I don’t usually use different voices, though occasionally…)
I think, I express my thoughts, I respond, I argue, I question, I laugh at my foolishness. Really, I have a lively time in here. It’s like there’s a party in my head, and no one is invited (to paraphrase a terrible old commercial).
It has only recently dawned on me, some 70 years into the conversation, that I am not really alone in here. There is another person listening in, and often joining in. The wise words are his, the foolish ones mine. It is not a soliloquy; it is a dialogue.
And now I know who it is. (And you, my reader friend, have probably guessed his identity by now.)
It is, of course, God in here with me. And now that I realize this, I find I am trying to be more careful in my thoughts, which are actually the words I speak to God in m most candid moments. I need to clean up my act.
When I find myself thinking clever but unkind thoughts about others, I stop myself. When I am passing silent judgment on the obese, tattooed, pierced folks around me at the store, I try to switch over to a prayer: “Lord, bless them and help them.” That short, six-word prayer is all it takes to shut down my cruel thoughts. I don’t need to be more specific; I know that God knows what they need, and I know He knows I know. And I know that every one of us needs His help, so I add “And Lord, help me.”
It helps.
a small thought…EVERYBODY PRAYS
An earlier thought, about talking to myself, suggests another. Prayer is a central element of the life of a Christian, or of any believer in a God that loves and listens to his children.
Prayer can have many different forms and purposes. We can pray our gratitude for something, or for everything. We can pray for forgiveness for our sins. Or we can pray for God to do something specific, for ourselves or others.
This last type of prayer, sometimes called intercession, is probably the most common and frequent, as is natural. We all have a lot to be thankful for, but we all seem to have an even longer list of things that we want or need.
The prayer life of a believer is a way to address his needs, but it is also a need in itself. A believer always feels better after prayer. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for,” says the book of Hebrews, 11:1.
But what about the unbeliever: the atheist, the agnostic, or simply the “None” who has no place in his life for religion or God? Does he need prayer?
Here is the truth, so obvious that it is almost unthinkable. Everybody prays. They just do it in different ways, some better than others, some worse than no prayer at all. Whether it is intentional or unconscious, praying is a natural human function, only one step above breathing.
“I hope I get over this cold quickly.”(A prayer of the sick.)
“I wish the kids would call more often.” (A parent’s prayer.)
“It would be great if the University could finally get a decent football coach.” (An alumnus’ prayer. See next prayer.)
“I hope this hurricane passes us by.” (A Floridian prayer.)
“Seven come eleven, baby needs a new pair of shoes.” (A crapshooter’s prayer for victory.)
Whether we call it praying or wishing or hoping or just wanting, we all pray all the time. Continue reading
O Ben Finiti 