Debt

So our parish school is estimated to be about $600,000 in debt.  This per our pastor’s homily/plea for the Feast of Christ the King.  Let that number slowly roll off your tongue.  How does this happen?  Valid question, and I am sure there are probably a lot of things that could be said.  Previous pastors did not manage the money very well?  Sure.  A new parish on our outskirts has plucked a healthy dose of our enrollment?  Sure.  Increasing wages?  Sure.  Relatively low costs for parishioners?  Sure.  And I am sure there are a plethora of other reasons too.  But the ones I have just stated can all be summed up in one word: budget.

Budgets.  Most households have them.  All businesses do, at least all those that don’t end up bankrupt.  It is a relatively simple concept.  You estimate the money you think will come in, based on previous figures and other analyses.  You estimate how much you think it will cost for various services and goods, based on previous figures and other analyses.  The two figures have to match.  If you are conservative, you will build a certain fudge factor into the costs to ensure that there will certainly be enough money to go around for the necessities.  Anything left at the end can be spend on luxuries, or saved, or donated or whatever.  Not that complicated.

Both in the written plea from our pastor as well as the oral one, in trying to assure us that there was a plan in place to ensure this never happened again (therefore, please give us money), he mentioned a budgetary practice that I thought was strange, if not downright insane.  Apparently, he said, the budgets have previously been done in hindsight.  Which I take to mean, we were a pretty well-off parish and we had a sizeable slush fund.  If expenditures were greater than income, they would simply take money from the slush fund to make it all work again.  But it is immediately obvious to the most naive Econ 101 student that this is an unsustainable practice.  If your budget is way off one year, and you dip into the slush fund, it is a clear signal that your budget needs to be tweeked.  To need to do this on a recurring basis, to the tune of 600K, is gross negligence.

So now what? 

1) The parish needs to rise to the occasion to bail out our school.   Our parish just rose to the occasion last year by pledging some $1.5 million to the Heritage of Faith Vision of Hope campaign.  Where is that money?  Can it be used? 

2) Our parish plans to market its school to a wider audience.  Does this mean non-Catholics?  ‘Cause that never ends well.  You end up with a parish largely subsidizing a largely non-Catholic school.  Slowly, the education is watered down to accomodate the new audience.  And lots of people are pissed off.

3) The education is already watered down.  There are obviously a lot of factors involved here, but our kids are receiving a secular education + a religion class.  That is not Catholic education.

4) The fees will be increased, further making this watery gruel of a Catholic education a passtime for rich hobnobs.  Further reinforcing the watering down aspect.  It will become just another private school for the rich.

5) Having said all this, is there an argument to be made for letting the school die?  I understand that there are a lot of people who have received Catholic education and who feel strongly that it should be perpetuated.  But our current system is not what it used to be.  Are there other ways of doing it?  Combining schools?  Regional schools? 

6) Do I, as a parishioner, need to feel compelled to help in this emergency situation? I can’t afford the school now.  I certainly won’t be able to afford it then.  I don’t believe it does the job of forming young consciences.

Steve, our conversation now seems oddly prescient.

Finally

The final sections of the new Mass translation have been approved.  Will it be perfect?  Probably not.  Will it be an improvement?  Probably.  Crossing my fingers for an implementation date of sometime in 2010.  Holding off on buying a new missal until then…

Liturgy of the Hours

I love the Liturgy of the Hours (LOTH).  I haven’t always been and am not always very consistent when it comes to praying it.  But that is because I am not very consistent at anything generally, and am not very consistent at praying specifically.  But any semblance of consistency at prayer that has developed over the last few years has almost exclusively been due to the LOTH. 

My interest in this type of prayer began prior to converting when I read a book by Philip Yancey, though I am not sure which one.  In it, he described arid periods in his prayer life in which the only thing he could do was read pre-composed prayers.  I believe he also commented that ones that he had used were composed by Lancelot Andrewes, an Anglican divine of the 17th Century.  My prayer life being characterized at the time as a state of continual and everlasting aridity, I quickly snapped up the idea.  I found his prayers on-line, edited them for modern day language, shortened them significantly, and made them more consistent (I think) in terms of their structure.  I read those prayers every day as long as I was in the Episcopal Church.  Part of the motivation, I think, was doing something new.  Not just new to me, though it was, but also new to my circle of friends and family.  There was a sense of going against the grain of my surroundings, and also of rediscovering practices of the past, even if it was, in this case, the Protestant past. 

But also, the increased structure of this type of prayer helped me immensely to just do it.  There was no need to try to come up with a steady stream of stream-of-consciousness words, non-repetitive in nature, at 5:00 am.  I could get up and do it.  There was surely some time of “personal prayer” incorporated, but it didn’t need to occupy the whole time.  I could finally pray, offer a significant chunk of my time to God, first thing in the day.  Over time, this has developed into a pretty strong habit.  Not one that I necessarily have adhered to with alarming consistency, but one that I certainly notice when I don’t do it.  It now takes a deliberate act of the will to omit my prayers, as opposed to the opposite.  I do, though, deliberately will to omit them more than I should.

I had been exposed to the writings of Kathleen Norris also, around the same time.  She is one of those Protestants who is very open to co-opting “whatever works”, and is thus very open to the goodness of certain Catholic traditions and practices.  Her books are often structured around the rhythms of the LOTH, and so I developed an intense fascination with the concept of regular, rhythmic prayers that followed a seasonal structure.

So all of this was fertile soil for the time when I was first exposed to the LOTH, during our weekly RCIA meetings.  Every Monday night, we would end our meeting with Night Prayer, with various people filling in the various roles.  In hindsight, having multiple people doing different parts made it more confusing than it needed to be.  But we all eventually caught on.  And I have never looked back.  My own cobbled-together Lancelot-based prayers went in the trash. 

For my birthday, which was 8 days post-conversion, I received the Shorter Christian Prayer, which I used regularly.  But before long, I upgraded to the larger Christian Prayer book.  But it later came to my attenton that I was missing the Office of Readings, which contains great season-appropriate readings from the Church Fathers.  So I slowly purchased the complete set of the LOTH, two books for Ordinary Time, one for Advent and Christmas, and one for Lent and Easter.  Surely that was it.  But no, it came to my attention last year that there is a Psalter out there that makes it easier to chant the liturgy.  And so I purchased the Mundelein Psalter.  Very cool.  Though it is difficult to chant at 5:30 am.  My voice stinks most of the time, but is particularly bad in the early morning, while trying to mute the sound so as not to wake the children.  So I don’t use that all that much, except when I am trying to change things up a bit.

I suppose learning the structure of the LOTH is a bit of a challenge, but there are plenty of websites to help (this one helped me a lot back in the day).  One of the hardest things for me, and one that I still need to look at the instructions for, is to figure which parts to say on specific feast days.  Depending on whether it’s a feast, a memorial, an optional memorial etc, different psalms are supposed to be recited.  I did it wrong for years before figuring out there was a rule.  Also, Night Prayer typically ends with a Marian antiphon.  And I have heard whispers of rumors that there are specific antiphons designated, maybe not officially, but perhaps traditionally, for specific seasons.  But I am not sure.  Also, none of the recent saints (e.g., Padre Pio) have an office yet.  Maybe that will change soon, I dunno.  Lastly, some of the translations, especially of the Bible readings in the Office of Readings, are horrendous. 

That said, without the LOTH, my soul would wither and die.  It is my lifeline to God, the only assured means of keeping the lines of communication open for me.  Other’s mileage will vary.

V

We watched the first episode of V last night.  It was good enough for us to come back for a second view, but not enough to commit to anything long term yet.  That or we were making such fun of it that that was enough to bring us back for more.  Juliet From Lost is in it, melodramatic as ever, looking off into the distance pensively.  There’s a scene where she goes down a trap door into a dark subterranean tunnel, and you’re like, hmmmm, where have I seen this before?  There’s also another Party of Five Guy (POFG) in the show (though not Jack Shepherd this time), increasing the sense of deja vu.

As for the rest, we couldn’t figure out if the show was trying to rip modern culture, or if the writers were so immersed in it that they didn’t realize how shallow it is.  In the first interaction you see between the V and humans, POFG hits on the leader of the V, and she hits right back.  Really?  This is how things start between two alien cultures?  And then the aliens are especially well-loved once they promise to provide “universal health care”.  Really?  And the V have these ridiculously cheesy “We are…” slogans.  And the first time the V show up at all, the humans…clap.  What universe is this?  Has no one watched any alien movies in this alter-universe?  Do they not know what inevitably happens next?  Later, we are told that the aliens were so well received because they showed up at a very opportune time.

OK.  So, granted, I’m not a great big Obama fan, to say the least (you’re like, whoa dude, where did that come from?).  But I was unaware that I was a lunatic conspiracy theorist.  And that’s what I must be, because everything I’ve written in the previous paragraph (other than the mutual hitting) makes me think that the writers are very transparently using Obama and his cronies as their template for this alien invasion.  But that can’t be, because it’s on regular TV and slamming The Holy One is pretty much up there as the 11th Thou Shall Not.  So I guess I’m a loony.  Which, you know, at least I now know where I stand and who I am.

New Discovery

This website is the best place to visit, if you are looking to keep the fires of the 16th Century burning brightly.  And who isn’t, really.  I discovered it while doing general searches on that whole Anglican provision thing that PBXVI so deviously promulgated.  Always looking out for some poached Christian, that guy.  Anyway, at this site you will relive in their own words the myriad reasons the Reformers thought the Pope was anti-Christ.  And how everyone the website author has ever disagreed with is…well… wrong.  You can take polls about what living people currently believe, and when they started believing it. 

We are Protestant (= Catholic), Reformed, Calvinistic, Evangelical Anglicans adhering to the non-revisionist views of The Thirty-nine Articles (1571), the Heidelberg Catechism (1563), the Irish Articles (1615), the Canons of Dordt (1619), and the Westminster Confession of Faith and Catechisms (1646). Yes, we are aware of a few places of inter-confessional disagreements, but not too many.

You will need to pay close attention, though, because they use words in different ways than do most people.  That seems to be why they are Protestant = Catholic, though the Pope is Anti-Christ.  But nevermind silly definitions.  Nor minor “inter-confessional disagreements”.  The enemy of my enemy is my best bud.  And because we are all fixed on how bad the Romish Whore Pope of Rome is, well, those disagreements practically vanish.

Acedia, again

So, the word “despair” has been playing around in my mind of late.  So today, I decided to do a little bit of reading, if possible, on the theological virtue of hope.  Being at work, most of the sites that casme up on google were banned under the title “religion”, so I went to about the only link available to me.  I obviously haven’t read that much of it, but it seems like a good little book by Josef Pieper, called Faith, Hope, Love.  I landed on page 99 and read on through page 123.  What particularly captivated me was the discussion of acedia, as “the root and origin of despair is the slothful sadness of acedia” (pg 122).  Acedia is a little diddly that has captured my attention previously. 

Our Man on the Scene says:

In the classical theology of the Church, acedia is understood to mean “tristitia saeculi”, that “sorrow according to the world” of which Paul says, in the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (7:10), that it “produces death”.

This sorrow is a lack of magnanimity; it lacks courage for the great things that are proper to the nature of the Christian.  It is a kind of anxious vertigo that befalls the human individual when he becomes aware of the height to which God has raised him.  One who is trapped in acedia has neither the courage nor the will to be as great as he really is.  He would prefer to be less great in order thus to avoid the obligation of greatness.  Acedia is a perverted humility; it will not accept supernatural goods because they are, by their very nature, linked to a claim on him who receives them.  [...]

The more acedia advances from the regon of emotion into that of intellectual decision, the more it becomes a deliberate turning away from, an actual fleeing from God.  Man flees from God because God has exalted human nature to a higher, a divine, state of being and has thereby enjoined on man a higher standard of obligation.  Acedia is, in the last analysis, a “detestatio boni divini”, with the montrous result that, upon reflection, man expressly wishes that God had not ennobled him but had “left him in peace.”

So Doc, what’s there to be done?  Despair is destroyed “only by that clear-sighted magnanimity that courageously expects and has confidence in the greatness of its own nature and by the grace-filled impetus of the hope of eternal life.”  I’m affraid the diagnosis is a little better than the cure, at least in the little I have read.  For it seems to boil down to, despair is a fruit of acedia, and is cured by courage and hope.  But, being a hopeless coward, that leaves me in a bit of a pickle.  Maybe the book concludes with a chapter like, “Helpful Next Steps” or something.  I guess I’ll check that out later when I have more time.

Father Cutie

I have been surpised about how little play the whole Father Cutie incident has received in Catholic circles.  It is true that I don’t check that many blogs anymore, and so it possible that I have simply missed the discussion.  However, it certainly received play in the MSM.  Which is to be expected.  A hot Catholic priest from South Beach leaves the Church over indiscretions of a vow-breaking nature, joins the Episcopal Church (!), and marries his little lady.  This irks me on so many levels. 

1) I have attended Mass at his parish.  He was a good priest.  He had a huge and orthodox (if perhaps a bit mushy) ministry.  He was hot, celibate and orthodox.  He was a poster child for a vibrant, young, relevant Catholicism.  He was one of us.  So I feel slightly more betrayed by him than when some loony Shera of a priest goes all Episcopagan.

2) Episcopalian?  Really?  Specifically, in a diocese that…blows.  This is the more disturbing part for me.  It betrays such a fundamental lack of understanding of who and what he was and still is.  They have no Holy Orders.  No Eucharist.  They affirm pretty much every Pelvic Disorder.  Which, of course, they are free to do.  I don’t care what Episcopalians do, but I do care that an apparently good and orthodox and dynamic Catholic priest can so easily be led to repudiate (charitably interpreted) what he once held dear. 

Now he’s in an invalid marriage, and once he is “ordained” he will be illicitly confecting and distributing the Eucharist (provided form, matter and intent are maintained).  May Our Lord grant this man repentance and clarity.

Oh Come

I was thinking about what I might possibly mean when I ask Our Lord, “Oh Lord, come to me in power and fill me.”  Because, that is precisely what he does in Holy Communion.  Instead of of begging him to come in power, I might as well just go to Mass and shut up.  And it occurs to me that it is a remnant from my non-Catholic days.  He wasn’t in Holy Communion then, so I had to ask him to come via some other means.  But more than that, I think that it is really a cry from desperation.  Lord, come and overpower me with your grace, so much so that it will overpower my free will and make me good.  Fill me to the point where I will make wise and good choices.  But this is a non-starter with Our Lord who, desiring our holiness, nevertheless does not negate our free will.  Some try as I might to sway him otherwise, it ain’t happenin’.  He does indeed come to me in power and glory on a daily basis (were I disciplined enough), but will never do so in a manner that cancels freedom.  So I guess I’m stuck with my bad choices.  ‘Cause my freedom isn’t very free.

Irony

Michael Berg reflects on the formative sexual relationship he had with older woman Hanna Schmitz as a young teenager in this poignant drama set in post-World War II Germany. The passionate affair ended when Hanna disappeared.

That’s how the movie, The Reader, is described on Netflix.  We received it because it had been nominated for all sorts of stuff.  We hadn’t heard of it, though, as we haven’t heard of many things, being way out of the Media Circle.  In fact, to my shame, I hadn’t even read the description before queuing it up.  Anyway, we received this movie at the same time as Doubt, which had been recommended on relatively high authority, despite the subject.  To those who don’t know, Doubt is about the doubt surrounding allegations about a Catholic priest’s dealings with a certain boy.

The irony is that Doubt is a movie that doesn’t work, except on the obvious assumption that sexual dealings with children are heinous sins.  Check.  And yet, reread the description of The Reader.  A passionate affair between a child and an older woman.  It would seem that sexual dealings with children in some situations are heinous, but in others, they amount to “passionate affairs”.  Check.  What gives, I ask.  It would seem that pedophilia is heinous when Catholics do it, but not when others do it.  Or that it is heinous when men do it, but not when women do it.  Or something.

Anyway, as Mark Shea says, the day is fast coming when the Church will be shouted down, not for committing such sins, but for standing againt them.

Divine Maternity

The phrase “divine maternity” is really…cool…technically speaking.  It rolls off the tongue beautifully and lends an air of splendor to Our Lady.  It can be a confusing term, though.  There was a period where I didn’t really understand what it meant.  As I understand it now, it refers to Our Lady’s prerogative as the Mother of God.  Her divine maternity refers to her role as the Mother of the Divine Man.  All well and good.  But it can be somewhat confusing too.  After all, the phrase could very easily be understood to refer to the fact that her maternity is divine.  That is, that there is something about her that is divine.  And it can be argued that even that is true, to the extent that the order of grace renders her (and all of us) a daughter of God, adopted into the divine family.  But I don’t think that it what divine maternity is intended to convey.

All of this was brought home to me over the last week as I read the print version of this homily in the Catholic Standard and Times.  The CST is by no means a hack job of a Catholic newspaper.  Their authors and editors really do seem to attempt to put together one of the best Catholic weeklies in the country.  And our Cardinal is top-notch.  However, on page 23 of the print version of the linked homily, the title of the second part (it starts on page is “Mary’s divinity ‘poured out upon the Church’.”  That’s quite a statement, and one that would make my in-laws bristle.  And rightly so.  But this title is only a condensation of the following sentence from the homily:

In accordance with the eternal plan of Providence, Mary’s divine motherhood is to be poured out upon the Church, as indicated by statements of Tradition, according to which Mary’s ‘motherhood’ of the Church is the reflection and extension of her motherhood of the Son of God” (Redemptoris Mater, 24).

What appears to have happened is that the editor has confused “Mary’s divine motherhood” with “Mary’s divinity”.  He seems to be confused by what is meant by the phrase “divine motherhood”.  What the homily states makes perfect sense.  If she is the Mother of the Son, she is also the Mother of his body, the Church.  But her divinity is not poured out upon the Church.  And to say so only confirms our separated brethren in their darkest suspicions about us.

Recruiters Are Such Pests

In my job search, I have applied for numerous positions that have been posted by recruiters.  I have yet to have a good experience with a single one of them.  They are degrading pests.  The typical run will go something like this: Apply for the job; speak to the recruiter; be told how great I am and how sure he is they’ll want to talk to me; ask me to forward a slightly modified version of the resume; forward said version; never hear from them again.

I understand that they are in it to make money, and like everyone else, they have to prioritize their activities.  However, there is a slight difference, in that they are dealing in human hopes, dreams, fears and sorrows.  The way you, O Pestilent Nuissance, treat the potential job candidate should be a priority.  They should be treated with respect, the minimum amount of respect being a a short email saying something like, “sorry, it didn’t work out, we’ll keep you in mind.”  That took me 30 seconds to write.  It could take you less, if you copied and pasted it from the last such email you sent.  The point being, it wouldn’t take much of an investment of time to actually do someone the courtesy of letting them know that things didn’t work out.  And, mark this, doing it would set you apart from the pack of other Pestilent Nuissances as Someone To Recommend And Work With In The Future, If Possible.

However, the Pestilent Nuissance Syndrome was taken to a whole new level of unprofessionalism by one Solon Frazilus.  I have a few other things on my plate right now, and so I removed my name from consideration for a job in North Jersey.  Plus, once I saw the job description, which they withold until you’ve already applied, I figured out that I was waaaaay underqualified.  There’s a reason people pay other people twice what they pay me.  And it ain’t dumb luck.  So, and note this, I contacted him to let him know I was no longer interested, because, you know, that’s common courtesy.  And he wrote back:

You have six years of experience in human health toxicology and risk assessments.  You also have exposure to OTC products, the appropriate regulatory bodies and have the required degree.  Additionally, when we spoke you said that you were comfortable relocating to northern NJ.  Based on this information and how you chose to respond, I have to assume that you decided to approach them directly.

Solon Frazilus, PHR

Uh, no, actually.  I’m not a Pestilent Nuissance.  Nor am I an unprofessional hack.  I don’t lie to people to manipulate them for my ends.  I don’t scheme and back-door people.  But seen as that is how you treat people, I can see why you expect people to treat you that way.  You should try taking your clients at their word.  You unprofessional hack.

Truly True Science

As I said previously, everyone just keeps bringing up the Science Trump Card without, you know, actually talking about science.  But, trust them, they heard it from a friend’s neighbor’s mother’s postman’s scientist niece that Science says so.  So it must be true.

Pope Does it Again

Just when I think our Pope has run out of mad genius, he always manages to dig down way deep and pull out some more of the goods.  In this case, I refer, of course, to the latest round of venom being spewed in his direction.  That his remarks on the use of condoms to fight the African AIDS epidemic have managed to elicit condemnation from both the French and the Germans is the final nail in the coffin.  I have respected him immensely until now.  But now my view of him has been raised to something bordering on the sacrilegious.  He is my idol, in the contemporary slang sense.  I would never want to be him.  But there is not a single soul on the planet that I could ever respect more.  I love him.  I always did.  But now I ***LOVE*** him.

He is a sign of contradiction.  He will speak the truth, damn the consequences.  And the swirling winds of hell that seemingly constantly surround him are only further proof that he is a most resplendant witness of Christ himself.  The demonic hordes know exactly where lies their greatest threat.  And woe to the world for joining their feeding frenzy.

I am not a big fan of demon-speak.  I have always shied away from attributing to the devil that which is very easily attributed to human mischief, stupidity or just plain ole sin.  But this most recent tempest surrounding the Pope just reeks of hell.  Because, from my vantage point, all I see are people so wrapped up in the Western Sexual Non-Ethic that the Pope’s words seem to them to be an attack on them.  His words seem to be like garlic to a vampire.  Or like the Cross to a demon.  Just shrieking hordes.

There is no rational response to what he says, except to the extent a blood-thirsty mob can be described as rational.  The piling on, the tone in which the piling-on is carried out demonstrates, to me, that there is more to the world’s disagreement than just a disagreement over facts.  It’s almost like they feel personally attacked.  Like when you go after a tiger cub.  Mamma gets a little ticked.  Sexual license is their little tiger cub.  So please don’t around suggesting that permissive sexual behaviors have anything to do with AIDS.  Or we’ll go all fight-flight on yer ass.

I would be very open to an open dialogue about the science on this subject.  But it really seems that this is a subject upon which, for whatever reason, no one can be objective.  Both sides claim science as their ally, but no one ever seems to actually know the studies (except these guys).  They’ve been told the science is on their side, but haven’t bothered to double-check.  And so you get mealy-mouthed nonsense from the French about how the Pope is unscientific and intolerant (their greatest curse).  Intolerant?  What’s that got to do with anything?  “You’re unscientific.”  “No, you’re unscientific.”  “Nuh-uh.”  “Yah-huh.”  “Well your momma’s ugly.”

Anyway, our glorious leader continues on his way peacefully, pointing us all to Christ.  Speaking the truth to an unthinking and uncomprehending world.  Just like Someone Else did 2000 years ago.  And I hope he doesn’t meet the same fate.

Long live the Pope!

Memo to the OverlordBossMan

To: All Employees

From: Pierre [Last Name]

Re: Moving Forward

Now that we have reached settlement with [EvilCorp] on the litigation, our attention must turn to maintaining focus on our businesses during these challenging times, staying engaged with our customers, and re-activating the integration planning process.

No offense, Dear Overlord, but the businesses, our customers and the integration are the three last things on my mind.  Seriously.  I’m more interested in getting off your sinking ship before it officially goes under.  Or to switch the analogy, Bossman, I’m running for my life before you get one last shot at knifing me in the back.  It’s probably hard to understand from your vantage point atop that massive pile of cash, but us lowly plebs still need food and shelter.  So, really, no offense and all, but bite me.

I recognize that since the settlement on Monday, you have many questions about the future organizational model and post-close structure. I have the very same questions that all of you have.

Dearest Brutus, are you really so out of touch.  The pile must be higher than I thought.  We rank-and-file have no such questions.  We could give two shits about the future organizational model.  Except, perhaps, insofar as it affects the one thing we do care about.  Will I have a job in this failing economy?  Will my family be able to keep our house?    Or will you cut me loose to save a little more cash?  So no.  You really don’t have the same questions we have.

Over the past weeks our attention and focus have been devoted to finding a resolution to closing the transaction and not on integration related issues. We will now be turning our attention to these issues and will begin discussions with [EvilCorp] on the subject later this week.

Translation:  Over the past weeks, your attention and focus have been devoted to finding a resolution to further padding your bank account, at the expense of 25-30% of your employees.  So, now as you turn your attention to culling the herd, well…it is no great consolation to know that we are in your cross-hairs.

We will share more information as it becomes available. One question that I can address today is that under our settlement with [EvilCorp], all the conditions in our merger agreement of July 10th regarding employee related benefits etc., remain intact. I would refer you to the Acquisition site on The Edge where we previously posted details on the merger agreement for more detailed information.

The lone bit of good news is that you somehow failed to take away our last remaining comfort as employees of this sordid company.  So I’ll get my puny 3 months severance (unless you start to get really creative…remember to read everything you sign, folks).  Small consolation indeed.

In the meantime, the business environment requires that we focus our attention on our work, along with a greater intensity on safety for ourselves and our colleagues.

The business environment requires nothing of the sort.  Having seen your “commitment” to your employees’ well-being, you can hardly be surprised that my commitment is most assuredly not to my work or this evil company.

Thank you for your patience as we move forward.

Welcome.

News from…

…The Complete and Utter Bullshit Department:

But the Vatican’s position [on evolution] became somewhat confused in recent years, in part because of a 2005 New York Times op-ed piece signed by a close Benedict collaborator, Austrian Cardinal Christoph Schoenborn.

In the piece, Schoenborn seemed to reject traditional church teaching and backed intelligent design, the view that life is too complex to have developed through evolution alone, and that a higher power has had a hand in changes among species over time.

Oh great gobs and mountains of pure gobbledygook, how can I ever dream of reaching thy glorious heights!

1) What is this “traditional church teaching” of which you speak, oh valiant Knight of Truth?  Evolution?  Look, dude, I ain’t on board with the whole 6-day thing, nor with the whole ID of the Gaps thing either.  But to call evolution the “traditional” teaching is a bit of a stretch.

2) I read Schoenborn’s piece, and he did not back ID.  Sure, he used the words “intelligent” and “design” in close proximity.  And true, this was a sort of acoustical cue for you to hit your Vatican-Stands-In-The-Way-Of-Truly-True-Science macro, but he endorse no such theory as ID.  Rather…

3) He merely mentioned that, you know, as Catholics who, you know, believe in a Creator God, we surely do see evidence of…wait for it…design in the universe.  That we are not, in fact, the products of mere blind chance.  That whatever process he chose to use to make us, and make no mistake, evolution is the best hypothesis, he nevertheless did make us.

4) He further went on to say, and I am going from memory here, that God’s existence was not article of faith, but rather demonstrable by reason, per Vatican I.  And that therefore, far from having our faith over here and our Truly True Science over there, we rather see that both God and TTS are rooted in the camp of Reason.  Faith is grounded in reason.  Reason is illuminated by faith.

Ras Le Bol

So we had been attending 7:30 am Sunday Mass for pretty much the better part of the last year.  No music.  Around these parts, that’s pretty important, because Catholic music is depressing.  And depression is no fun!  But inevitably, the sleeping patterns of our littlest one have significantly changed, and so we find ourselves in need of attending a later Mass.  At our parish, that means 9:00 am is the go-to dealio, as 10:30 involves guitars.  I will apostasize before willfully attending such a thing.

So we’d been attending the 9:00 am Mass for a couple of weeks.  And there’s music.  Boy, is there ever music.  I suppose I could have endured the tedium.  It seems wrong to have Mass be an exercize in fortitude, but that’s where we are these days.  Our new pastor has wonderful homilies.  But being of That Generation, he also is quite prone to make it up as he goes along.  Nothing exhorbitant, the usual stuff.  Like paper cuts.  A word here, a word there.  A misplaced joke.  A sentence here, a sentence there.  Whatever.  Then we got a couple of Weekend Helper Priests (aka Weekend Warriors), one is good, but apparently can’t make it to the early Masses.  The other is…OK.  But he is a Wanderer.  He likes to stay active during the homily.

Then we got a new deacon.  Preached a great homily, but is also a Wanderer.  All the way down into the nosebleeds.  I’m pretty sure that’s illicit.  Steve, chime in, please.  And now his wife is our liturigical director.  She previously assumed the position at St Thomas of Villanova.  Our oldest’s godparents quit that place for greener pastures.  So, OK, kinda strike one.  But then she has treatened us will Bell Choirs and Children’s Choirs.  I suppose the bell choir might be alright.  But not a children’s choir.  Look, kids are Christians.  They should be involved in stuff.  But…

Anyway, we occasionally go through these periods of exasperation at being Catholic.  So, usually our rememdy is to go parish-hopping for a while.  Take some time apart, see other people, and then reconvene to resume our relationship.  But as in dating, this is, of course, a euphemism for, well, I don’t like you that much, if there ain’t nuthin’ better out there, I’ll be back, but otherwise, sayonara.  Well, our parish is kinda mushy, but it is much better than the majority of parishes we have usually visited in our times apart.

With this exception.  St Michael’s Byzantine Catholic Church.  Fifteen minutes from home.  It is a gorgeous little church.  About a 100 people show up each week.  The liturgy is completely chanted, save the homily.  Incense fuming, bells ringing.  By and large, people aren’t dressed in bathing suits.  Last weekend, the homily was about the 7th Ecumenical Council.  Wha..  There’s more than Vatican II?  The songs are robust, though certainly different.  Each week, we have been approached by happy Catholics, welcoming us, inviting us to donuts and coffee.  Simply put, the whole thing is gorgeous.  And friendly.

It is also completely foreign to us.  The wife gives up trying to figure where we are in the “Missal” about 2 minutes before I do.  Never heard the songs before.  It is longer than a Latin-rite Mass, by about 20 minutes (a significant consideration given the 1 year old who is now emoting).  You stand.  A lot.  I mean, a really lot.

So I am torn.  The wife, not as much.  I think we have agreed for now, to split time between this and our parish.  But I already know more people at St Michaels.  I’ve sat down for coffee with the priest.  And I am not constantly frustrated by the banality, though I am frustrated that I can’t follow along yet.  But that will come.

Anyway, blah, blah, blah.

The Eye That Sleepeth Not

That would be my eye.  Not because I’m staying up until ridiculous hours of the night applying for jobs.  But rather because I am (kinda) like that evil master Sauron, scanning the Protestant world looking for goofiness.  I see all.  I hear all.  All bend to me.  Or something.

Actually, I am not really scanning.  I have a few websites I frequent because of some previous-life connection.  This one is because he was a very close friend of mine my senior year in high school.  He is now a pastor of a church in Maryland.

So anyway, his post is entitled “James’ view of the Bible”, and contains the following section:

What did [James] think of the Bible? He tells us in the letter he wrote. In James 1:18, we see that he believed it was truth. In this same passage, James tells us that the Word is the means of regeneration — new birth (James 1:18, 21). The Word acts as a mirror, showing us our defects (James 1:23-25). It is our guide for living today (James 2:8), and will serve as the standard for judgment in the future (James 2:12). Finally, in James’ most famous passage, he tells us that we must not merely be hearers of this great Word—we must be doers as well (James 1:22). May James’ attitude—and the attitude of all who know and fear God—be ours this year.

It will suffice to look at merely the first example given: James 1:18.  What does James 1:18 tell us about his view of “the Bible”?  Not much, really, seen as the Bible is not the subject of the quote:

Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

In fact, what my friend seems to have done is conflated the “word of truth” with “the Bible”, but they are, in fact, not the same thing.  The image that is being used by St James is reminiscent of the first few chapters of the book of Genesis, where God creates the universe by speaking it into existence.  In the same way, he re-creates mankind by speaking him into existence.  The Gospel of St John takes this image of the creative action of God’s spoken word, and identifies that word as the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, who has now been incarnate.  I think it is to go too far to say that St James is here speaking of Jesus as the “word of truth”.  Rather he is using an image for our re-creation in Christ, one that conveys that, as with the universe, we were re-created out of nothing, bringing nothing of our own to the project.  “Word of truth” is thus a Genesean (???) image used to depict our utter dependence on God’s saving action.

This word transcends all human capacities.  And yet we are not left completely in the dark, for this creative word, this infinite and eternal speech of God has revealed Himself.  As was mentioned above, he was incarnate.  And so the full revelation of the “word of truth” is the incarnated Second Person: Jesus of Nazareth.

This is not to denigrate the Bible.  I agree wholeheartedly with my friend’s sentiment that the Bible should be read, studied, meditated upon and lived.  It contains the only Holy Spirit-attested recollections of Our Lord’s life.  It contains  truth and manifests truth.  But it is not the Truth.  It contains and manifests the word of life.  But it is not the Word of Life.  The same could be said for Apostolic Tradition, but this is not that stale post.

Incidentally, “word of truth” also couldn’t be the Bible, because the Bible did not yet exist.  Parts of the NT had not even been written at this point, let alone collated into a series of canonized books.  And St James would not have been aware, and probably would have bristled at the idea, that this letter he was writing would someday be elevated to an equal, if not even superior status to that of the OT writings.

Look at me! Look at me!

I’ve got a big smudge on my forehead.  Acutally I don’t.  And that’s because I can no longer participate in the Annual This-Lapsed-Catholic-Finally-Braved-The-Cold-To-Attend-A-Non-Holy-Day-Mass Parade.  This reflects even more poorly on me than it does on our lapsed friends.  But I can’t do it anymore.  Lent begins without the fanfare for me.  Last year, I felt a little guilty about it, as if maybe my motives were secretly that people might not think me a crazy Catholic Kook.  But I’m way beyond that now.  For better or for worse.  I don’t want anything to do with it.

Now, onto what I really wanted to say, which is that this post at First Things is spot-on.  I have also noted that it is quite trendy, even among Catholics, these days to not give up stuff for Lent.  I know I even fell prey to it for a while.  Instead of giving something up, why not take something on, the story goes.  And it is certainly noble to take up some kind of spritual exercise during Lent.  But do give someting up too!  Even if it is something “silly” like candy.  I remember we Prots used to enjoy our amusement at the expense of those works-riddled Catholics.  How silly they were giving up candy.  As if God cares about candy.  Never noticing, mind you, that the Catholics were the ones giving something up.  We were fat and happy.  Those who never give up candy have no idea how hard it is to give up candy.  And to be honest, I think we often used our jokes specifically to ensure that we would never have to try.  Because we knew we couldn’t.

Take this morning.  It’s Ash Wednesday.  Fast and abstinence.  Which cracks me up, first of all, because you would think that fasting would de facto cover the abstinence part too.  But we works-riddled Catholics have also found a way to circumvent our fasting, so that we get to eat while fasting!  Ha!  Pharisees!  So we need to add abstinence to to our fasting, to make sure that we don’t eat too much during our fasts.  Gluttonous Pharisees!!!

Anyway, back on point, fast and abstinence.  That means I wake up today and can’t go through my normal routine.  I really really love my routine.  And my cereal, juice, two pieces of raisin toast, and my cup of tea.  I love all of it.  But I had to change it.  And I sat there, literally, for minutes, depressed at the fact that I could only have one piece of toast, no cereal, a smidge of juice, and my cup of tea.  I mean, heck, I didn’t even change that much.  But it was enough to knock me into a depression.  And then I come into work and the left-over Mardi Gras donuts are still out.  Come on, guys!

And this is the genius of giving things up.  You realize how attached you are.  How enslaved you are.  And not just to candy or raisin toast, but to everything.  We say we would give up all to follow our Lord.  But even the thought of giving up an extra piece of toast for him is too much.  Or the routine.  Even for just a day.  Thank God for the wisdom of Mother Church, forcing us to come face to face with the reality of our attachments.  “Awake, sleeper.”

Good quote

“Be not deceived, Wormwood, our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” –C.S. Lewis, “The Screwtape Letters”

Giant doe eyes filled with fire

How can one not live in fear of a God who would suffer so much for…me?

O my Jesus, I don’t trust you.

In the midst of my frothing-at-the-mouth rambling yesterday, I managed to say a couple of things that were, at least, minorly interesting to me (both quoted above).  And interestingly, both of those statements are very closely related.  Because, the thing is, I do trust Jesus.  I rather trust him too much.  I have no doubts that he will deliver on his end of the bargain, should I give him the permission to do so.  Not a shred of doubt.  It’s just that his bargain is considerably more than I had ever bargained for.  He will stop at nothing short of making me a saint, that is, holy.  I never got into this whole thing to be a saint.  I got into it to make some nice friends, meet some nice girls, live a good and happy life.  Add a little meaning and purpose into the mix, with a dash of love.  But I’m affraid I mistook the accidentals for the substance.  For I have received all those things in spades.  Nice friends, check.  Nice girls, check.  Super hot wife, check.  Happy life, check.  Purpose and meaning, check.  A dash of love, check.  So everything should be great, right?

But none of those things are enough.  In fact, I am beginning to suspect that they were just the bait to get me hooked.  For having received all of the things I hoped for, I now turn around to see our Lord looking at me with those giant doe eyes of his.  Except that the eyes aren’t filled with that Disney gleam, but rather with a consuming fire.  I am reminded again of CS Lewis who said somewhere that God is certainly good.  But he is not safe.  He has certainly been very gracious to me, but now he wants me.  All of me.  For good.  No turning away, no turning back.  Come to me and let me purify you.  Come to me and let me crucify you.  Be consumed in the fire of my love.

I feel a bit bait-and-switched.  I became a Christian in the friendly confines of the Baptist faith.  Certainly they are known for hell and fire preaching, but the primary aim of what I experienced was simply to scare me into seeing my sin (which worked), and recognizing my need for a Savior.  But once you pray the prayer, you’re once-saved, always saved.  No fear.  Certainly a response of gratitude, adoration and service is expected, but it’s done.  You are saved.  You are free.  No more fear.  No serious work.  Jesus is your buddy.  He loves you.  He wants you to flourish and lead a relatively comfortable life.  That’s exactly what I signed on for.

But then I wandered off the farm, and was led, many times by ill motives, to where I am now.  It’s funny how God can use your pride and desire to shock.  How many times I have changed churches because “I knew better” than everyone in the last one.  Or because it would raise eyebrows.  Or out of boredom.  And yet, he has used all of these ridiculous motives to bring me to the fullness of truth.  And now our Lord has me fully in his cross-hairs.

I should have known he was coming.  The encounter could only be delayed for so long.  He was always going to come to enforce his end of the bargain.  But how can one not live in fear of such immense love?  Were a man (or woman) to love me with one infinith of the love he has for me, I would immediately withdraw: “Whoa, slow down, camper.  A little hot and heavy, no.  I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”  Like I said, I wanted a dash of love.  Enough to feel pretty good about being loved, but not so much that I had to actually stop and consider this other person.  Love, sure, but freedom to do what I want too.  Love for me, but not so much for you.  In a word, selfishness.

Awake, sleeper

I have been sleep-walking through my spiritual life for a long time.  Or rather, slowly crustifying and crystallizing into a much harder and colder Christian.  The intent, or at the very least, effect of this has been to slowly fall away from Jesus Christ.  Inwardly, for many of the externals have remained.  Horrible doubts about the trifling details of faith all the way up to and including doubts about the major details.  Details like, do I really believe in God?  Is this just bread?  If not and if so (respectively), what then?  What to do under the crushing weight of final futility?

But of course, all of the old arguments for the existence of God remain, and the train of logic (maybe?) that leads (inexorably?) from God to Eucharist also remains.  So this turns out to not be much on an intellectual struggle, which is clearly a manifestation of the mercy of God.  At adoration the other night (see, the externals remain), I had the image of Jesus Christ as Alien Invader Overlord Guy (in a green suit) pouncing on me, pinning me on my back, and proceeding to suck the life out of me.  This is my struggle.  I believe in God.  And all that entails, intellectually.  But I don’t like him, nor do I like all of that entailment.  When my sin was revealed to me those many years ago, I was 18 years old.  I was hanging out with the Baptists because they were really friendly.  And they liked me.  I didn’t believe any of that nonsense, but I would have defended them to the death.  Because, in fact, they loved me.

But, mark this.  I was 18.  I had my plans for a debauched life.  I knew precisely what I would do when I got to college.  And then God showed me my sin.  And I immediately knew I believed in God.  But once the initial euphoria was over, and quite quickly, this newfound reality was perceived,  not as good news, but as an encumbrance.  Not the good news of liberation, but the bad news that I was going to have to, one way or another, make new plans for my life.  And I think that, all these years later, not all that much has changed.  God is the cosmic kill-joy.  That is what my vision of Alien Jesus is about.  He is pursuing me, and I am running away.  Because I don’t want anything to do with his new plans.

His new plans for me are most unwelcome.  They involve things like sobriety, responsibility, chastity, sacrifice.  They involve things that keep putting me at odds with a surrounding culture I desperately want to fit in with.  They involve constant choices of, “OK, if I say what I believe, they’ll never talk to me again, but if I say something else, I will be a wuss coward.”  His plans involve going without, sharing.  In a word, they involve the fullness of love, and quite frankly, I find that unappealing.  I like distance, ease, quiet and couches.

So, I’m at adoration, and I do recognize that, rationally, clearly this Alien Jesus Guy reflects a severe misapprehension on my part.  I know that he is otherwise.  I know what the Church teaches.  And I know what the New Testament teaches.  And I know what some of the saints say.  This weekend is the Feast of the Baptism.  This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.  Through baptism, I am that son in whom he is well pleased.  Because he has given us the power to become sons of God.  A son of God.  For he has poured out within us a spirit of adoption, which cries out Abba, Father.  And so we are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ.  A son, yes, but also a partaker of the divine nature.  Poured into our hearts, brimming with divine life.  For freedom he has set us free.

No, it’s not that I don’t believe in God because he’s not real.  It’s because he is too good to be real.  I mean, how can it be true?  How can the eternal God, all-holy, give so much?  How can he love so much?  How can he empty himself completely to fill me, when I want nothing to do with it?  How can one live in the light of so immense a gift?  How can one possibly respond to something so large?  How can one not live in fear of a God who would suffer so much for…me?  If he will go that far for me, then he has earned the right to ask anything of me, to the point of death (which he has asked of others).  But I’m not willing to go there.  And that is the crux of the situation.

My struggle with unbelief is not a struggle of the intellect.  It is a struggle of the will.  Will I?  Will I choose to completely lose myself?  Will I choose to allow him to completely annihilate me in his love?  To kill me and to raise me?  And to raise me as…who?  This is who I am.  This is what I know.  This is comfortable, predictable.  How can I choose to be lost, crucified?  Only to be found and raised as somebody else.  As who?  It feels a lot like physical death.  The Great Unknown.  How do I let go of the life I know in favor of something…else?

O my Jesus, I don’t trust you.  If I did, I would let go.  I would let myself be engulfed in your love.  Let go of the anger, the plans, the laziness, the hardness, the hatred, the greed, the fear.  These things that are so ridiculous, but that provide so much comfort.  Like those hideous pants I wore in the ’80s.

It all reminds me of the following sequence, from CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce:

Communion

One thing that has been standing out to me more and more as of late, is the spiritual communion I enjoy with my sons.  And this communion is something without which my whole idea of fatherhood would change.  Drastically.  For the worse.  It’s not something that I’m going to be able to do justice to, but I’ll try.

One example is of me at work.  I go to work to provide for and to protect my boys.  To take away the spiritual communion I have with them would be to reduce my work to the manual task of generating income, so as to provide for the necessities of life.  All those things are important, but they are, as I see it, only a part of the package.  And that is because, as a father, I am called to be more than a provider of food and other goods.  That is, I am to care for more than just the body of my boys, but also for their souls.  And that is where the notion of communion comes in.  For without it, it would be hard to make a case that my work (here at this horrible computer) had any direct effect on my boys’ souls; i.e., that my work would have anything to do with getting them to heaven.  Surely it could be argued that there would be an indirect effect.  By providing for their basic necessities, I foster a home environment in which the grace of God can have full effect.  Maybe.

But that’s not what I am getting at.  I’m talking about direct spiritual consequences.  The communion of saints.  My boys are saints.  Christians.  In Christ, I have a deep spiritual communion with them.  We are members of the same body.  What affects me affects them.  What affects them affects me.  The work I do, when done well, can merit graces for them.  The sufferings I endure, when endured well, can merit graces for them.  All of this applies also to the wider church, who are also members of the same body.  But I think it applies especially “closely” to those within our domestic churches.

All of this is never more readily obvious to me than when I have sundered that communion by some deliberate act of stupidity.  During those brief moments before communion is restored, I am filled with a stiff sense of futility as regards my work.  As if it were completely pointless to carry on with any of it.  For under such circumstances, there really is no point.  All becomes vanity!  There is no purpose or point to any of this little game.  Oh, but sweet mercy, it really does underline for me the emptiness of a “secular fatherhood”.  We go out into the world and we are just…away from those who are most important to us.  And have no connection to them.

But we do.

Merit

Our friend from over at 1517 has relocated to the area.  Welcome.  In perusing his fine website, I ran across the following statement:

In the sixteenth century, Luther stood his ground where Paul, many centuries earlier, had done so. Despite the light that the New Perspective claims to have cast on Paul’s doctrine, I am still persuaded that Luther actually got it right and that Paul thought about justification as the church, following Luther, has always judged that he did and not as the New Perspective now imagines. The Judaizers then and the medieval in Luther’s day alike thought that by the keeping of the law, salvation could be merited. Paul first, then Luther later, rejected this, and Luther rejected it because Paul had done so. The reason, quite simply, was their far deeper, far more realistic, and, indeed, far more biblical reckoning with the depths of human sin, its pervasiveness, and the innate corruption it has wrought throughout human nature. How, then, are humans to render up an obedience to the law which is not itself corrupt? The apple of our best works, while rosy and attractive on the outside, is always inhabited by a worm that has destroyed it from within.

It is true that some medievals thought that salvation could be “merited”.  In fact, non-medieval contemporary Catholics also believe that salvation can be “merited”, since it is what the Catholic Church teaches.  And also happens to be what the Catholic Church has always taught, at least from the time of St. Augustine.  And that is because it was the teaching of St. Augustine, the Doctor of Grace himself, that salvation could be “merited”.  The current catechism has a short section on merit, quoting St. Augustine, the Council of Trent, and St. Therese of Lisieux.

So, is it true then that this means that Luther and Paul were more “biblical” than the Medievals and Non-Medievals (MaNoM)?  Well, the first course of action would be to check out what the Catholic Church actually teaches about merit.  More precisely, does the Catholic Church teach, as the above quote certainly implies, that our works are good enough to get to heaven on our own steam?  Let us peruse that short section on merit, then, shall we?

First, the section starts of with a quote from St. Augustine, which pretty well sums up the entire Church teaching on merit:

You are glorified in the assembly of your Holy Ones, for in crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.

The Catholic Church does teach that God “recompenses” (i.e., rewards; cf. CCC 2006) our actions with “the graces needed for our sanctification, for the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life” (cf. CCC 2010).  Oy.  That does sound really bad.  It almost warrants reckless throwing of the P-word.  But wait!  There’s more to the story.  Our Protestant friends usually miss the next part of the story.  A series of caveats, if you will, that significantly alter the shape of the story.

Caveat 1: With regard to God, there is no strict right to any merit on the part of man. Between God and us there is an immeasurable inequality, for we have received everything from him, our Creator (CCC 2007).

That’s really pretty self-explanatory and obvious.  God is, you know, the eternally self-existent entity from whom we have received our entire being.  We have no rights, in the strict sense, for we have received everything as gift.  I think this statement by the catechism really gets to the root of the charge that is brought against the Catholic Church in the above quote.  I think our interlocutor really does think we think that we can place God in our debt.  The idea that we can is ludicrous.  And the notion that we think that is equally so.

Caveat 2: Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning of conversion (CCC 2010).

This is also a pretty significant statement, seen as it establishes that our salvation is entirely dependent upon God’s “initiative”.  This is the catechism referring to “operative” grace, that which precedes any cooperation on our part.  Without it, we would remain dead in our sins.  Without the prevenient operation of God’s grace in our souls, we would perish. This again undercuts the vague implication above that Catholics are unaware of the “biblical” data concerning man’s rotten state of affairs.

Caveat 3: [T]he merit of good works is to be attributed in the first place to the grace of God, then to the faithful. Man’s merit, moreover, itself is due to God, for his good actions proceed in Christ, from the predispositions and assistance given by the Holy Spirit (CCC 2008).

This is the part where the fullness of St. Augustine’s teaching is captured.  “In crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.”  According to Augustine and the Catholic Church, man’s merits are “due to God” for they are his “gifts”, from the work of the Holy Spirit in predisposing us for and assisting us in our works (cf. Eph 2:10).

Caveat 4: The merit of man before God in the Christian life arises from the fact that God has freely chosen to associate man with the work of his grace (CCC 2008).

Having established that there is no “strict right” to merit on man’s part, and that God’s grace precedes all merit, the Church then goes on to say that God nevertheless “freely chooses” to work with us.  We are God’s co-workers (cf. 1 Cor 3:9).  In his grace, he chooses to work with us.  And thus our merits are his gifts.  In other words, our merits do not bring us to God, but they flow from a freely-given relationship with him.

Really, what the teaching of the Church about merits is seeking to preserve is the “biblical” understanding that God rewards his children.  It seems strange to think that the Bible teaches us that God rewards us for what we do.  But it does.  The Synoptic Gospels are littered with promises of God rewarding us:

• [Y]our Father who sees in secret [i.e., that you have given alms in secret] will reward you (Mat 6:4)
• [W]hoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ, will by no means lose his reward (Mark 9:41)
• [L]eap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven (Luke 6:23)

If Jesus taught us about our rewards, certainly St. Paul does too:

• Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward (Col 3:23-24)
• If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward (1 Cor 3:14)
• [W]hoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him. (Heb 11:6)

And St. John too:

• Look to yourselves, that you may not lose what you have worked for, but may win a full reward (2 John 1:8)
• The nations raged, but thy wrath came, and the time for the dead to be judged, for rewarding thy servants, the prophets and saints, and those who fear thy name, both small and great, and for destroying the destroyers of the earth. (Rev 11:18)

OK.  So, granted that the notion of reward is “biblical”.  God rewards us for our works.  But how do we understand this “reward” if we are also told, as we are, that our works are as “filthy rags”, or that “without me you can do nothing”?  The simple solution, and it is the one that St. Augustine worked out and the one that the Catholic Church has held since then, is that, apart from God’s “predispositions and assistance” (i.e., the working of the Holy Spirit), our works are “destroyed from within” (to quote our interlocutor).  However, endowed with the mighty power of the Holy Spirit working within us, our works are worthy of being rewarded.  Which is to say, our works “merit” a reward, “for God is at work in [us], both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (cf. Phil 2:13).  This Catholic understanding of merit is really the only way to do full justice to the biblical data that our works will be rewarded, even though (without the power of Christ) they are “dead”.

Dignitas Personae

Is here.  Of course, you won’t find the document at the Holy See’s website.  Why would you?

30 pieces of silver

Obamaphile Doug Kmiec received a lot of flack (and rightly so) for his support of the Glorious One.  Looks like he may be receiving his 30 shekels.  Let’s hope for him that the analogy ends there…