laudare...cenare...praedicare Disputations

Friday, December 06, 2002

Psalms every Catholic should know

I was reading a biography of Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, a remarkable man of God whose love of mountain climbing is well known. One of his habits was praying the De Profundis (Psalm 129/130) upon reaching a mountain peak, for the souls of those who had died on the mountain. (As the old Catholic Encyclopedia explains, "The Church recites this psalm principally in her prayers for the dead; it is the psalm of the holy souls in purgatory, the words of the Psalmist applying well to the longing and sighing of the souls exiled from heaven.")

It's a great idea, and can be adapted for those of us unlikely to find ourselves on a mountain peak (or at least one that people have died attempting to reach) by, for example, praying the De Profundis when getting onto a major highway, for the souls of those killed in accidents on it.

The problem is that it sort of requires you to know the De Profundis. And this got me to thinking of what psalms Catholics should have memorized.

The De Profundis and the Miserere (Psalm 50/51) are the two psalms explicitly listed in the Enchiridion of Indulgences. The former, as has been said, is useful for praying for the souls in purgatory; the latter for praying for oneself (in particular during penitential times and Fridays).

Other good psalms to know include:
  • Dominus reget me ("The Lord is my Shepherd," Psalm 22/23), popular at funerals and ecumenical occasions
  • Venite exultemus ("Come, Let us Sing to the Lord," Psalm 94/95), which appears frequently in the Liturgy of the Mass (and every day in the Liturgy of the Hours)
  • Iubilate Domino ("Cry Out With Joy to the Lord," Psalm 99/100), a psalm for cheerful occasions
  • Laudate Dominum ("O Praise the Lord," Psalm 116/117), the shortest in the psalter
  • Ecce nunc benedicite ("Come Bless the Lord," Psalm 133/134), a fantastic bedtime prayer (also suitable for moments of wakefulness during the night)
Now, I don't have all (or even most) of these memorized, but there's something to be said for being prepared to pray them (or a similar set) at a moment's notice. If we could all just agree on a translation.

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Wednesday, December 04, 2002

For example

A Zenit article reports on a gathering of Franciscans on the U.S.-Mexico border. They
called on the U.S. government to end Operation Gatekeeper, which they said forces migrants to cross in the most dangerous sections of the border through the desert and mountainous terrain, the Misna agency reported.

"This plan is killing innocent human beings who are in search of better lives," said Father Gearoid Ó Conaire, leader of the International Council for Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation, for the Order of Friars Minor in Rome. "In the nonviolent spirit of St. Francis and St. Clare, we call on the U.S. government to end this policy of death."
Let me attempt a conservative response:

"Operation Gatekeeper kills no one. Those who die have chosen to break the laws of a sovereign nation, and must be held to be responsible for their own deaths. If they were truly in search of better lives, let them apply to enter the country legally -- or better yet, to copy what they like about the U.S. in their own countries. If the U.S. opened its boarders, as these liberal and ignorant Franciscans insist, then we would soon be swamped with out-of-work immigrants not much better off than they were before, while the rest of us would find ourselves much worse off in the attempt to provide them with all the services the nanny state would insist we provide. We have the right and the duty to refuse entry to those who would make our country worse off."

I suspect a fair number of American Catholic National Review subscribers would agree with the above paragraph and disagree with the Franciscans, once they finish rolling their eyes at the existence of something called the International Council for Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation.

But the Franciscans are making a moral argument, and my imaginary conservative is making an economic argument. Once the economic argument is made, a moral argument can be constructed to oppose the Franciscans (e.g., they don't understand or are misapplying the "nonviolent spirit of St. Francis," or the virtue of justice speaks against open borders, or immigration policy is a matter of prudential judgment and friars have no competence to speak on it).

What isn't clear to me is how one judges the worth of a moral argument when his mind has already been made up by an economic argument.

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Well, I thought it was funny

A post on the New Gasparian begins:
There is a National Magazine that would like you to believe that it carries on a serious conversation in both culture and politics.
When I saw that the entire sentence was a link to National Review, I laughed long and hard.

Mostly because I know about, and am largely sympathetic to, Fr. Keyes's on-going opposition to the tone, tenor, and content of much of what NR's Rod Dreher writes about the American bishops. But also because I too have wondered about the fealty so many American Catholics show toward the magazine and its on-line presence. As Fr. Keyes puts it,
Unfortunately, there are many Catholics who take what they write seriously, and even form their opinions of the Church on what they read there. This is a serious mistake.
A criticism of the bishops that I've seen time and again from National Review Online and its supporters is that, while they may be competent to speak about matters of religion, the bishops know nothing about economics or politics, and therefore they should say nothing. It's interesting that journalists (and this is by no means limited to those writing for NRO) seldom direct such criticism toward themselves.

I've read that National Review's role in the conservative movement is to keep the loyalists feisty and girded for battle, while other magazines do more of the intellectual heavy lifting. If this is a fair characterization, then NR and NRO should be thought of as more revival sermon than catechism. And while there is a place for revival sermons, it can be a real challenge to separate the emotional delivery from the dogmatic content and evaluate the dogma objectively and rationally.

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Tuesday, December 03, 2002

Keeping the X in Xmas

On the one hand, the Knights of Columbus's "Keep Christ in Christmas" campaign is a noble effort in the exercise of the virtue of religion. On the other hand, it's as hopeless as a "Keep St. Sylvester in New Year's Eve" campaign.

My resolution to the tension between the sacred and the profane on Christmas is to acknowledge that there are two different events -- one sacred, one profane -- that happen to occur on the same day and that happen to both be called the same thing.

The sacred Christmas is the celebration of the Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord. The profane Christmas is our culture's winter festival. Other than the name and the date, the two celebrations don't have much in common.

It wasn't till I realized that the secular Christmas really is a winter festival, rather than just a debasement of a religious holy day, that I understood why people sing "Winter Wonderland" and "Jingle Bells" in December, most of which falls during autumn, yet disapprove of singing them in January and February, when (in my experience) it might actually snow. We celebrate winter when it first arrives -- a thoroughly human response in the face of the inexorable -- but within a week begin to treat it like an out-of-work uncle who has overstayed his welcome. This also explains why the sentimental notion of a white Christmas is such a big deal: it effects what it symbolizes, the arrival of winter.

From this perspective, calls to "remember the reason for the season" are misguided. The season is winter; the reason is the tilt of the earth and the eccentricity of its orbit. If there were no Christmas holiday, we would have invented it.

At the same time, of course -- quite literally the same time -- the Nativity of the Lord is of tremendous religious importance to most Christians, and those Christians who also celebrate the winter festival called Christmas need to maintain an appropriate balance between observance of the holy day and celebration on the holiday. This is the same balance we have been called to since the first Christian Pentecost. But though the appropriate balance heavily favors the religious over the secular, it eliminates neither, and I don't see our culture's winter festival as in direct competition with, still less opposed to, our Church's solemnity. Over-eating, over-drinking, and over-spending are as wrong -- no more and no less -- on Christmas as on St. Elizabeth of Portugal's Day.

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31 Days, 31 Ways: The Website

It's here, unedited and unadorned.

I'll be happy to have it printed up as a booklet (about 48 pp) if I can get pledges to buy 25 copies @ $6 each, including shipping.

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Monday, December 02, 2002

Good homilies

What do you consider a good homily?, Amy Welborn asks on behalf of Fr. Stanley.

The answers are, generally, hard to argue against. But that won't stop me from trying.

Several commenters said they like homilies that stick with the basics of the faith, explicitly condemn abortion, and stay away from politics. All of which is fine, but I can't help but think such a homily is intended for everyone else. (You know, those hour-a-week Catholics, the ignorant, undercatechised, cultural or cafeteria Catholics who keep trying to hold our hands during the Lord's Prayer.) A homily we approve of, not one we are affected by.

There are various techniques of rhetoric and delivery that can make a homily more effective on the natural level; we are, remember, physical beings, and physical things (including temporal arrangement of spoken words) matter to us (so to speak). But I think the most important effect of a homily is to enable me to leave Mass a better disciple of Christ than I entered. This means it has to change me, to give me something I didn't have before.

[As an aside: part of the insipidity of the common or garden parish homily is likely due to the wide variety among the parishioners. There is no single homily whose content and delivery will have something for, and be well received by, everyone in a typical Ordinary Time Sunday morning congregation.]

There are a lot of things a homilist can give me: historical information; an anecdote; an insight into the implications of the Gospel reading. But I've found one of the most valuable things he can give me is the sight of a man of faith talking about his faith. Meister Eckhart said that a good preacher is a man on fire with the love of God, and his listeners watch him burn. Exhortation and explanation are necessary, but on any given Sunday they may miss the mark. I may have already heard the anecdote, or the insight may go over my head. But I am always going to be affected by the sight of a man on fire with love.

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Wednesday, November 27, 2002

31 Days, 31 Ways: Number 31

St. Louis Marie Grignon de Montfort, one of history's greatest preachers of the Rosary, offers this advice:
Before beginning a decade, pause for a moment or two [and ask] for one of the virtues that shines forth most in this mystery or one of which you are in particular need.

Take great care to avoid the two pitfalls that most people fall into during the Rosary. The first is the danger of not asking for any graces at all, so that if some good people were asked their Rosary intention they would not know what to say. So, whenever you say your Rosary, be sure to ask for some special grace or virtue, or strength to overcome some sin.

The second fault commonly committed in saying the Rosary is to have no intention other than that of getting it over with as quickly as possible. [The Secret of the Rosary, 45th Rose]
Custom has not found people content, however, with asking for graces for themselves. Praying a Rosary for someone else is as Catholic as lighting a candle for them, and done under the same circumstances of ill health or ill fortune.

Whole generations of Catholics grew up with the idea of praying the Rosary for peace -- an idea that had been endorsed as recently as Rosarium Virginis Mariae last month, in which Pope John Paul II teaches:
The Rosary is by its nature a prayer for peace, since it consists in the contemplation of Christ, the Prince of Peace, the one who is “our peace” (Eph 2:14). Anyone who assimilates the mystery of Christ – and this is clearly the goal of the Rosary – learns the secret of peace and makes it his life's project.
When your Rosary intention is world peace, then, you become peaceful and a source of peace yourself.

But an intercessory Rosary need not be for something as grand as world peace, or even someone's health. Following St. Louis's suggestion to ask for a different grace at each decade, a different person (or a different need of the same person) can be prayed for at each decade. In this way, the Rosary becomes a prayer of charity toward others, and if the same general intentions are prayed for -- for example, your spouse or parents, children or siblings, parish, diocese, and whole Church -- as part of a daily Rosary, it becomes a habitual vehicle for holding those you are bound to pray for up to God for several minutes a day.

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31 Days, 31 Ways: Number 30

The U.S. bishops, in their 1973 letter "Behold Your Mother," acknowledged the value of meditating on non-traditional mysteries while praying the Rosary. Perhaps the most popular of these were variations on the public life of Jesus, a subject that the laity of our times might have more interest in than did the laity of the Sixteenth Century.

Now that Pope John Paul II has recommended the Luminous Mysteries to the Church, what will happen to all the ad hoc mysteries out there? My guess is, to the extent they continue to be fruitful, they will continue to be used.

Had Rosarium Virginis Mariae not been released while I was composing this series, I would have recommended a Public Life of Jesus Rosary, meditating on the mysteries of the Baptism, the Temptation in the Desert, the Feeding of the Multitude, the Transfiguration, and the Entry into Jerusalem. No doubt if pressed I could have written a few words about what these mysteries have in common, but I selected them as more as highlights of Jesus' life than as a set of fundamentally related events.

To this extent, the Luminous Mysteries are more coherent. They consider "the person of Christ as the definitive revelation of God," as the Pope put it in his letter. I heard a homily recently in which the priest pointed out that they are all stories of transformation (water is transformed into something with sacramental power; water is transformed into wine; stony hearts are transformed into hearts of flesh; the appearance of Jesus is transformed into the appearance of the Son of God; bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ).

But there are still whole aspects of the Gospels that are not directly touched on by the Luminous Mysteries. The two that come to mind immediately are Jesus' parables and His miracles.

A Rosary of Miracles
  1. The Miracle at Cana (John 2:1-11)
  2. The Healing of the Paralyzed Man (Luke 5:17-26)
  3. Feeding the Five Thousand (John 6:1-15)
  4. The Healing of the Syrophoenician Woman's Daughter (Matthew 15:21-28)
  5. The Raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44)


A Rosary of Parables
  1. The Parable of the Sower (Luke 8:4-15)
  2. The Parable of the Wicked Servant (Luke 12:42-48)
  3. The Parable of the Wedding Feast (Luke 14:16-24)
  4. The Parable of the Lost Sheep (Luke 15:3-7)
  5. The Parable of the Wicked Tenants (Luke 20:9-19)
These are not necessarily the optimal choices of miracles and parables for meditation, but any combination like the above -- supplemented by prayerful reading of the Gospel accounts -- will help to form a person into a more faithful disciple of Christ.

I think, by the way, that it would be better to select a particular set and stick with them, rather than mix and match as, so to speak, the spirit moves you. Although the entire premise of this series has been that there are countless legitimate and fruitful variations on the Rosary as a form of prayer and meditation, I find that repeated meditation on a limited number of themes over a period of time produces better fruit than meditation on constantly varying themes.

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Don't sweat the minutiae

I think In Between Naps is at its best during naps, when Amy Welborn has the time to write more commentary than short introductions to various news stories. (Too often, I find, those news stories are for me an occasion to indulge my vice of curiosity.)

Today, Amy asks the question,
[H]ow can religious leaders and teachers walk the line, balancing the commitment to help the flock understand the totality of the faith commitment, yet avoid making statements on the minutiae of life that make them look at best silly and at worst, like frantic little totalitarians?
Let me make two suggestions (neither of which, the careful reader will notice, answer Amy's question).

First, I don't think bishops should avoid making statements on the minutiae of life, as long as the statements they make are true. Among the minutiae is where most of us spend most of our lives, and we can use concrete examples of how to apply the principles of the Faith to current circumstances. I don't believe the principle of charitable almsgiving, for example, can be effectively preached in a wealthy country without some specific recommendations, suggestions, and opinions. (Here is where the "as long as the statements are true" condition comes into play; if a statement is a suggestion or opinion, rather than a teaching or commandment, that needs to be made clear.)

Second, the faithful have their own responsibility to listen to their bishops without presuming silliness or totalitarianism. Christ has given His Church the episcopate to sanctify and govern Her, but no one can be sanctified against his will. It is up to each of us to listen to our bishops in a receptive -- though not passive -- manner. An attitude of receptivity, to my mind, accounts for the biases and failings a bishop may have, but it also acknowledges his authority and role in the Church. A hermeneutic of irrelevance won't do.

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The triumphalism of the therapeutic

Greg Popcak has an interesting theory about parenting. Actually, he has both a theory and a metatheory.

His theory can be found in a book he wrote, which he describes as "genuinely the most important book a Catholic parent can read."

His metatheory is that his book is genuinely the most important book a Catholic parent can read. In other words, every parent has a choice between subscribing to Greg's theory of parenting or sending their children down the path of learned helplessness, depression, and despair.

Personally, I have chosen to send my children down the path of learned helplessness, depression, and despair. If it was good enough for me, it's good enough for them.

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Manners good and bad

I expect you have seen Eve Tushnet's posts about Miss Manners, but I think this (from Miss Manners' Basic Training) is worth repeating:
Searching their hearts, most people came up with the idea of talking about themselves or of critiquing others.
The old fallen human nature thing.

If I were to recommend one book about teaching one how to live in society, it might be J. P. Donleavy's The Unexpurgated Code: A Complete Manual of Survival and Manners. For entertainment purposes only.

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Monday, November 25, 2002

"Bernard Law and his ilk have no moral authority left..."

"... it's impossible to take them seriously...."

Or so says Rod Dreher, commenting on Amy Welborn's comments on Glenn Reynold's rejection of basically everything the U.S. bishops say.

I honestly don't understand this way of thinking. First, it is entirely possible to take them seriously; it is even necessary, if one respects the charism of the episcopacy and believes the Holy Spirit is with the Church.

Moreover, this attitude presumes that "bishops seriously tainted by this [sex-abuse and coverup] scandal" -- the "ilk" of Rod Dreher's remark -- had moral authority to begin with.

We might ask what sort of moral authority Glenn Reynolds granted the bishops before the scandal broke. We might even ask why, as a prudential matter, we should care that he doesn't care what they say. It would be nice if he did, but the mission of the Church in America is not to convince Glenn Reynolds of the moral authority of the U.S. bishops.

Suppose the scandal had not broken, that sex abuse and coverups simmered along unnoticed by the country in 2002. Would the absence of public scandal have affected the prospects of a pre-emptive war against Iraq? If not, would it have stopped the bishops from writing letters on the matter? If not, would it have changed, substantively, the content of those letters? If not, would it have changed, substantively, the reaction to those letters?

My own answers to these questions are no, no, no, and no. As I see it, the primary effect of the scandal on the voice of the U.S. bishops is to give people another excuse to ignore it.

There are other, secondary effects as well, but I think all of these must be measured against the attention paid to the bishops' statements in the years before the scandal broke. People who enjoy feeling morally superior to others have a new group to insult and ridicule, assuming they hadn't already been insulting and ridiculing the bishops; foolish crypto-Donatists can persuade themselves that their bishop no longer has any authority over them, assuming they hadn't been paying attention and already rejected their bishop's authority.

There is, however, another substantial effect the scandal might yet cause, although whether it does remains to be seen. (And the voices saying, "There's nothing to be done but wait for this foolish and perverse generation of bishops to die off," are not cause for hope that it will.)

That effect is this: Catholic laity in America will no longer rely on the bishops to present the Catholic faith, and its attendant consequences, to America. We will grow up from adolescent whining -- "The Church won't let me do anything! I have the meanest bishop on the face of the earth!" -- to mature action, living lives of faithful witness to the Gospel. Then no one will care what the Catholic bishops say, for the simple reason that they are already persuaded by what their Catholic neighbor says.

To complain that the bishops -- or the Vatican, or religious congregations, or parish councils -- have lost their moral authority is to waste the time and energy God has given us to build up our own moral authority. If no one takes what Cardinal Law says seriously because inbred clericalism blinded his judgment, so what? Aren't there two million other Catholics in the Boston Archdiocese who should be saying, by and large, the same things he is?

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Prayers for discernment

Bill White is trying to discern his vocation. Should he become a Benedictine oblate or a Dominican tertiary?

I sympathize with his problem, although for me the decision (between Dominican and Carmelite) was not particularly arduous even if it was unclear for a couple of months. (When, a month before my reception, I asked a friend, "If an angel laughs, does he stop laughing, and why?," she replied that there was no doubt I had found the right order for me. Now the rumor in my chapter is that, as a baby, I wore black and white diapers.)

Obviously, I can't tell Bill what he should do. He probably knows too much about both orders to make a decision without serious reservations. Perhaps what he should do is pray the Rosary daily during Advent and into Christmastide for the gifts of counsel, knowledge, and wisdom. Then, on January First, the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God, he will resolve to begin a postulancy with whichever order he feels closer to.

And may God bless him in his journey.

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Saturday, November 23, 2002

31 Days, 31 Ways: Number 29

Some people are fortunate enough to live near a church or shrine that features a "Stations of the Rosary," with a depiction of a mystery at each station. It might be outside or inside, but the act of praying the Rosary in such a setting is a miniature pilgrimage, a symbolic journey to the Holy Land, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

If you don't leave near a Stations of the Rosary site, you're in luck! You can urge your local parish or shrine to build one, and it will (unlike all the rest) include the Luminous Mysteries.

Failing that, any quiet garden or peaceful trail may provide a brief Rosary pilgrimage. Traditionally, pilgrims prayed as they walked from shrine to shrine, then prayed all the more at the shrines themselves. Praying the Rosary while walking symbolizes the journey we are taking in this life, which in turn is modeled on the journey of Jesus. (It also gives the body more to do, which can cut down on distraction.) Praying the Rosary while standing or sitting during a walk symbolizes the time we must set aside in our journey to focus on God.

And, too, many people find it easier to sense God's presence when surrounded by plants than when surrounded by walls.

One idea, given a suitable path with spots to pause, is to pray the decades of the Rosary while standing or sitting, then while walking from pausing spot to pausing spot to pray the Jesus Prayer ("Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God [and Son of Mary], have mercy on me, a sinner." I usually add the words in brackets anyway, but they seem particulary suitable for praying between decades.) But as should be obvious by now, everyone should use what works for them.

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Friday, November 22, 2002

Which of the Seven Dwarves are you?

1. Which adjective best describes your typical mood?


Sleepy

Sneezy

Bashful

Dopey

Happy

Grumpy

Medicinal


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Easter, straight down the line

JB the Kairos Guy repeats a question: Are we "Advent People" or "Easter People"?

I've tended to think in terms of individuals having Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter temperaments. For either question, though, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Easter person.

At the same time, I've recently been thinking about St. John the Baptist a lot more than I did in the past, and I'm beginning to better appreciate the need for preparation to receive the Word of God. This need is not the same today in a society that has been evangelized as it was two thousand years ago before the Way was preached, but it still exists, both within ourselves and within those to whom we are to proclaim the Good News.

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Money in the bank

When a bishop fails to speak with evangelical zeal, Catholics will criticize him. When a bishop speaks with evangelical zeal, Catholics will criticize him.

Always bet on criticism.

While there is jealousy and rivalry among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving in an ordinary human way?

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Thursday, November 21, 2002

Binding and losing

I was asked, in a comment below that is only intermittently readable, whether I think the U.S. bishops' "Statement on Iraq" is binding on the consciences of American Catholics.

I think that it is absolutely clear that the bishops are not demanding assent to the proposition that "resort to war ... would not meet the strict conditions in Catholic teaching for overriding the strong presumption against the use of military force."

As I see it, though, the matter is a lot more involved than deciding whether the laity are bound to agree with the bishops, and I've tried below to point out some of the complexities. The statement blends Catholic doctrine, prayer, exhortation, observation, and opinion. To interpret it based on an inaccurate headline summary ("Bishops Oppose War With Iraq") is, I think, to fail in one's duty to form one's mind according to the teachings of the Church.

Unfortunately, there are those who do not distinguish between forming one's mind according to the teachings of the Church and slavish adoption of inaccurate headline summaries. Some think the former implies the latter ("Catholics must oppose war with Iraq."), others think rejecting the latter implies rejecting the former ("What the bishops say is no more important than what your next door neighbor says.")

But what are we to do with statements like this:
In assessing whether "collateral damage" is proportionate, the lives of Iraqi men, women and children should be valued as we would the lives of members of our own family and citizens of our own country.
As I read it, this is a doctrinal teaching. In the abstract, it's easy to respond, "Er, yes, of course all innocents are equally innocent." But if we are inclined to act otherwise -- to, say, value the lives of our own children more than the lives of Iraqi children -- do we make an effort to reform our inclinations according to this teaching? Do we leave it as a theoretical ideal, an evangelical counsel perhaps, that we are only expected to follow approximately? Do we -- convinced by our own judgments, knowing the fatuity of the American episcopate, seeing the U.N. and Sadaam for what they really are, valuing Americans more than Iraqis -- decide that this isn't a teaching at all, but a faulty prudential judgment of the bleeding heart lefties of the USCCB?

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Wednesday, November 20, 2002

31 Days, 31 Ways: Number 28

If I were to sign a three-book contract with a Catholic publisher, one of the books I would deliver would be called The Prophet of the Rosary, a 50,000 word look at how the book of Isaiah prophesizes the mysteries of the Rosary. It's a catchy title, I think, but since the book of Isaiah prophesizes the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the book would practically write itself. (Although I've been known to miss a deadline or two.)

The easiest chapters would be those on the Sorrowful Mysteries, because the Fourth Song of the Suffering Servant (Isaiah 52:13-53:12) is practically a recitation of the mysteries in poetic form. In fact, if you aren't overly concerned with matching up the lines of the poem with the most suitable mystery, the Fourth Servant Song is a ready-made poem for a Scriptural Rosary:

The Agony in the Garden
  1. Behold, my servant shall prosper,
  2. he shall be exalted and lifted up, and shall be very high.
  3. As many were astonished at him –
  4. his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance,
  5. and his form beyond that of the sons of men –
  6. so shall he startle many nations;
  7. kings shall shut their mouths because of him;
  8. for that which has not been told them they shall see,
  9. and that which they have not heard they shall understand.
  10. Who has believed what we have heard?
The Scourging at the Pillar
  1. And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
  2. For he grew up before him like a young plant,
  3. and like a root out of dry ground;
  4. he had no form or comeliness that we should look at him,
  5. and no beauty that we should desire him.
  6. He was despised and rejected by men;
  7. a man of sorrows,
  8. and acquainted with grief;
  9. and as one from whom men hide their faces
  10. he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
The Crowning with Thorns
  1. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows;
  2. yet we esteemed him stricken,
  3. smitten by God, and afflicted.
  4. But he was wounded for our transgressions,
  5. he was bruised for our iniquities;
  6. upon him was the chastisement that made us whole,
  7. and with his stripes we are healed.
  8. All we like sheep have gone astray;
  9. we have turned every one to his own way;
  10. and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
The Carrying of the Cross
  1. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth;
  2. like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
  3. and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb,
  4. so he opened not his mouth.
  5. By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
  6. and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
  7. stricken for the transgression of my people?
  8. And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death,
  9. although he had done no violence,
  10. and there was no deceit in his mouth.
The Crucifixion
  1. Yet it was the will of the LORD to bruise him; he has put him to grief;
  2. when he makes himself an offering for sin,
  3. he shall see his offspring, he shall prolong his days;
  4. the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand;
  5. he shall see the fruit of the travail of his soul and be satisfied;
  6. by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous;
  7. and he shall bear their iniquities.
  8. Therefore I will divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong;
  9. because he poured out his soul to death, and was numbered with the transgressors;
  10. yet he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.
As it happens, two other Servant Songs can be matched with two other set of mysteries -- Isaiah 42:1-4 with the Luminous Mysteries; Isaiah 49:1-6 with the Joyful Mysteries (as for the Glorious Mysteries, you could do worse than go with Isaiah 52:7-10) -- but these songs by themselves are too short to provide a full fifty lines for a Scriptural Rosary. Instead, an entire song can be recited (dare I propose chanted?) at the beginning of the Rosary, thereby invoking the past looking forward to the mysteries (just as our meditations today are the future looking back on the mysteries, making Jesus' life, death, and resurrection the central act of history).

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Witness confusion

Mark Shea endorses Pavel Chichikov's statement, "I don't ever want to hear my bishops advocating or justifying war. I want them to urge peace up until the last moment.":
I think, more and more, that the witness for peace of the bishops is something like the witness of celibacy. It's not binding on the rest of us, but it still challenges us to think of things higher than realpolitik and to try to strive heroically for peace rather than just settle for war with a sort of tired sense of inevitability.

As a layman, I still think the war with Iraq needs to be fought. But I do not share the contempt so many conservatives seem to have for bishops because they urge peace. I wonder more and more what the hell else we should expect them to do?
I think Mark's comparison of "the witness for peace" to "the witness of celibacy" is uncharacteristically sloppy, confusing several things that need to be kept separate.

First is the characterization of the statements of the bishops, the Curia, and the pope as a "witness for peace." They are indeed, but they are not that alone. They go much further, applying just war theory in ways that challenge politically conservative American Catholics' interpretations of the principles of just cause and legitimate authority. They insist on the distinction between forcing a change in a government's behavior and forcing a change in its existence.

This mischaracterization leads to an improper comparison. Refraining from the unjustified killing of human beings -- which, after all, is what refraining from starting an unjust war is -- is not an evangelical counsel. It's not something a select few are called to, to inspire and challenge those who do kill human beings without justification to do so in a manner suited to their state in life. It is one of God's commandments.

The improper comparison leads to a too-facile dismissal of what the bishops are saying: "It's not binding on the rest of us." In fact, the bishops' witness for peace is binding on the rest of us, if we are to be faithful Christians:
Because of the evils and injustices that accompany all war, the Church insistently urges everyone to prayer and to action so that the divine Goodness may free us from the ancient bondage of war. [CCC 2307]
In their "Statement on Iraq," the U.S. bishops apply this principle, "We fervently pray that all involved will act to ensure that this UN action will not simply be a prelude to war but a way to avoid it."

(Here we have the bishops doing what politically conservative American Catholics have been lambasting them for not doing: teaching by doing. How do politically conservative American Catholics react? Many say, "The bishops should shut up about this." I don't see this as much more problematic than saying, "Good for them! They're doing what they're supposed to do, which is preach peace, and we're doing what we're supposed to do, which is ignore them.")

The last note of confusion in Mark's comments is sounded when he prefaces his opinion that a war against Iraq needs to be fought with, "As a layman." Whether a war against Iraq needs to be fought is a matter of prudence, not state in life. If a bishop believes a war needs to be fought, then he should preach (if prudence allows) that it needs to be fought; at the very least, he shouldn't preach that he doesn't think it should be fought. The obligation of all Christians to be witnesses for peace does not extend to bearing false witness.

Finally, there is nothing praiseworthy in poor judgment. One may, perhaps, praise another for following his judgment, while thinking that the other's judgment has reached an objectively imprudent decision; but unsound judgment itself is a bad thing, to be counseled against. To this extent, I agree with the politically conservative American Catholics who have left opposing comments on Mark's post: if war is the right thing to do, I don't want Catholic bishops saying it isn't.

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Tuesday, November 19, 2002

Humility 101

Recently, Fr. Jeffrey Keyes, C.PP.S., posted St. Gaspar's 31 Maxims appropriate for the pursuit of the holy virtue of Humility, to be posted in each Precious Blood missionary's room and read aloud, one a day.

There is a great deal of wisdom packed into these maxims. However, the English translation was ... ah ... written in a style that I have difficulty embracing as material for meditation. So I thought I would attempt to repackage the maxims in a form that I can better come to grips with. Step 1 was to get rid of the rhymes wherever possible; step 2 to rearrange the maxims according to theme.

The result is below. The categorization is obviously not rigorous or unique; it's more of an outline (for what, maybe a sermon or book on humility) than a set of maxims for daily recitation; and each maxim doesn't necessarily say the identical thing in the original as in my modified version. Nevertheless, since humility is an extremely important virtue (even for layfolk), let me post it here. (The numbers are from the original list.)
Reasons to be humble:
1. To safely reach your final goal.
4. To acquire lasting peace of heart.
5. To acquire peace and consolation.

Temporal effects of true humility:
3. Your soul will wear all virtues.
6. Your heart feels neither grief nor bitterness.
11. Offense and scorn are soothing to your soul.
22. You are able to bear with others’ faults and with his own.

Eternal benefits of humility:
7. The Lord will impart eternal glory to the humble.
8. Bear mockery and contempt with humility, and you will find a rich and priceless treasure.
27. To hate our sins in true humility will win God’s love for all eternity.
29. God always delights in true humility.

Effects of pride:
2. Without humility all earth is nothing but glittering vanity.
14. You who are proud are hiding your utter nothingness from yourself.
18. I am a worm, born of ashes and dust, and yet so proud that I trust in my own strength.
25. To ridicule or disdain your neighbor is a sign of vanity.
31. How will human praises help you if after death the Lord censures you?

How to become humble:
13. Be quick to forgive offenses.
15. First call God to mind, then behold yourself.
20. Do not be attached to the views of your own mind.
21. Abstain from self-complacency.
23. Subject your will to others cheerfully.
24. Esteem your fellow man and disdain yourself.
28. Bear correction due your errors in peace and patience.
30. Acquire trust in God, not yourself.

How to avoid pride and bear wrongs and humiliation:
9. Consider well your utter wretchedness.
10. Remember you are but of lowly station.
12. Remember that you are made of worthless dust and ashes.
16. Remember that all gifts you have been given are favors flowing from God’s hand.
17. Recall that it is God who sends us gifts of every kind.
19. Behold the dismal grave awaiting you.
26. When you fail in your work, remain calm and humble; God is still in control.
The two that speak loudest to me are numbers 18 and 31, which in the original translation look like this:
A worm am I, of ashes born and dust,
And yet so proud that in my strength I trust.

Of what avail will human praises be
If after death the Lord will censure thee?

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Amor a primera vista

Hernán González describes his visit to the Convent of San Marco, where he came face to face with the frescoes of Fra Giovanni da Fiesole:
I was. Dazzled. Love at first sight. Perhaps by slightly superficial reasons (those roses and blues of Fra Angelico, that so-fresh beauty, so cheerful and yet so deep; and, admittedly, that spectacle of the convent: the tiny cells, each one with its fresh air painted in the wall, like a "decoration" of the outdoors ... in order to cheer to the monk, and to feed the devotion; an image of the sky).
He also quotes religious historian Mircea Eliade's reactions to the paintings. Eliade writes, "I feel unlimited admiration for the theological and metaphysical genius of Fra Angelico." Why? Eliade gives his reasons.

For me, Fra Angelico's genius is in creating paintings that are as true as they are beautiful. Take Eliade's observation that the boyish faces of the saved in "The Last Judgment" signify the eternal youth of the saints. This is a doctrinal lesson, expressed in a work of art, but it is expressed as art, in the language of painting, not in a pedantic or superficial manner that sacrifices art for truth's sake. The balance of truth and beauty makes Beato Angelico's paintings objects of contemplation, suitable for friars to study as they moved about the convent, drawing out meaning and understanding day by day, supported by and supporting their prayers and study, all feeding the preaching that is the purpose of Dominican life.

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Monday, November 18, 2002

All in the Family

There are rumors circulating to the effect that Dominican nuns are doing silly things.

But while Dominican nuns, being human, are no doubt doing silly things, they are not doing the silly things people are saying they are doing. Dominican nuns are cloistered, which greatly reduces their availability for trespassing on federal property and for giving theraputic massages.

The Dominicans whose activities have made such good press recently are apostolic sisters, a distinct branch of the Dominican Family. (Yes, yes, a mixed metaphor. I am told good Thomists have been working for decades to straighten out the terminology used to describe persons associated with the charism of St. Dominic; so far matters are still in committee.)

There's a saying, "If you've seen one Dominican, you've seen one Dominican," and that's particularly true with the apostolic sisters. Each congregation (there are more than two dozen in the U.S.) has its own primary vocation -- teaching and healthcare are very common, for example -- and each sister may have her own individual work that contributes to the mission of the congregation as a whole.

All of this can make for a very readable clippings folder.

But while there are some things some sisters do that I cannot countenance -- not that anyone has asked me to (but homeopathy?) -- in the end it is up to each of us to work out our own salvation. Giving labyrinth workshops is, as far as I can tell, no worse than muddling through the day the way I do. If that's the work someone else chooses to do, let her do it. It's hardly my place to say she should be doing something else with her life.

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Do we do what we believe?

Everyone knows that American society respects people who are materially successful, not those who dedicate their lives to helping others.

Everyone is wrong.

It seems to me that Americans do respect, and sometimes revere, those who give themselves in loving service. We just don't want to be them. We want to be the rich people, so inter alia we can write big checks at gala receptions in honor of those who give themselves in loving service.

The irony is that, while we can't become rich simply by choosing to be rich, we can become charitable by choosing to be charitable. I am as loving as I choose to be. Or, to put it more starkly, I do not choose to be any holier than I am.

Perhaps this is why Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem was followed so soon by His shameful departure under the weight of a cross. Few of us in this world are heralded as kings. I'd have a great excuse for my behavior if my salvation depended upon other people spontaneously throwing me a parade.

But what is it anyone lacks -- due to bad luck or accident of birth or poor financial planning -- that prevents them from following Jesus to Paradise by the only way He gave us: the way of the Cross? Jesus accepted only one crown while He walked the earth; it's a crown that will fit any of us, and it is offered to each of us. We respect those who wear the crown, and yet so often refuse it ourselves.

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Saturday, November 16, 2002

Why, certainly!

What does the Catechism mean when it says damage must be "certain" for military force against an aggressor to be just?

Let's try some role-playing:

Scenario #1
Sheriff Truegood of Placid, Montana, is sitting on the front porch of the jailhouse when he sees the two surviving Casey brothers ride into town, looking as ornery as their murderous clan ever did.

Truegood says to himself, "Say, them six-shooters the Caseys got could be used to plug Hiram Baker, the man whose testimony sent their older brother Clem to the gallows." Truegood then draws his Peacemaker and shoots both Caseys through the heart.
Scenario #2
Sheriff Truegood of Placid, Montana, is sitting on the front porch of the jailhouse when he sees the two surviving Casey brothers ride into town, looking as ornery as their murderous clan ever did.

Truegood watches as the Caseys stop outside Hiram Baker's barbershop and draw their six-shooters. "Come on out, Baker!" Andrew Casey calls.

Baker walks out of his shop, his hands trembling in the air. The Caseys shoot him. Truegood draws his Peacemaker and calls out, "Okay, boys, drop 'em!"
It seems to me that Scenario #1 has the sheriff acting well before he is certain, while in Scenario #2 he acts long after.

As I read it, the certainty of damage the Catechism mentions is moral, not epistemological. Those who have responsibility for the public good, to whose prudential judgment the evaluation of the conditions for a just war belongs, must be morally certain that the aggressor has or will inflict lasting and grave damage.

Such certainty is distinguished from fear that a potential aggressor might attack, or knowledge of the damage the potential aggressor might do. It is not the product of a cost-benefit or risk analysis. Certainty is not conferred by determining that, statistically speaking, the expected number of deaths is minimized by a preemptive attack.

This doesn't seem fair. It isn't. In matters of justice the bad guy has a distinct advantage. We are called to fight justly, not fairly, and one aspect of justice is that it is categorically unjust to punish someone for something he has not done.

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Friday, November 15, 2002

Politically Conservative Catholics' Minds Not Changed by Bishops' Statement on Iraq

In other news, Area Dog Barks at, Chases Cat.

It's not that minds (politically conservative or otherwise) ought to change upon reading the "Statement on Iraq". But if the purpose of reading it is to have the excuse to say, "Yeah, and if we'd listened to those head-in-the-sand peaceniks twenty-five years ago, we'd all be speaking Russian today," it's probably best left unread.

One criticism of the "Statement on Iraq" that I find entirely unwarranted is that no one cares about an opinion on Iraq offered by the same men who brought us the child abuse and coverup scandal. Frankly, I don't see much evidence that anyone cared much about the opinions of these same men before the scandal broke.

To my mind, the three most significant statements in the Statement are these:
  1. "As a body, we make our own the questions and concerns raised in Bishop Gregory's letter, taking into account developments since then, especially the unanimous action of the U.N. Security Council on November 8th." This elevates the importance of the September 13 letter, which can no longer be dismissed as the braying of yet another USCCB committee.
  2. "In our judgment, decisions concerning possible war in Iraq require compliance with U.S. constitutional imperatives, broad consensus within our nation, and some form of international sanction." Again, Church authorities repeat the requirement for international sanction, which as a practical matter means UN sanction. I've read a lot of griping about the moral vapidity of the UN in recent months, but not very much about why some form of international sanction is not required.
  3. "We are deeply concerned about recent proposals to expand dramatically traditional limits on just cause to include preventive uses of military force to overthrow threatening regimes or to deal with weapons of mass destruction."
This last strikes me as the key point of the whole document, indeed of the whole response of the Church's teaching authority since full-scale war with Iraq began to be talked about.

Unfortunately, most of the arguments I've seen for making such a dramatic expansion in the traditional limits on just cause take a form similar to this: "So what, we have to wait until Iraq nukes us before we can do anything?" This is question begging in its purest form, using the very question being begged as an argument.

The Catechism states that a just war can only be fought against an enemy inflicting "lasting, grave and certain" damage. "Certain" does not mean possible. It does not mean probable. The United States cannot morally begin a preemptive war against Iraq out of anxiety for what tomorrow may bring.

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Nothing?

I'm in the middle of a Little Rock Scripture Study program on the Acts of the Apostles. (LRSS relies on the Collegeville Bible Commentary, which I find uneven; the Book of Isaiah, for example, is treated like a curious artifact from a long-vanished society, while the commentaries on Mark and Acts are pretty good (at least from the perspective of someone who knows very little about Mark and Acts).) (Since the goal of LRSS is not to make scholars, but saints, I'm not particularly concerned by whatever academic bias the commentary might have.)

Meanwhile, of course, the U.S. bishops have been meeting and discussing and voting on a variety of things.

I was very surprised to read a number of Catholic bloggers, in commenting on the bishops' resolutions, write things to the effect that "there's nothing we layfolk can do about it now."

Recognizing the informality with which these statements were made, they still make a startling contrast with the actions of the infant Church. The response to the crises the first Christians constantly faced was prayer. After Herod had James killed and Peter arrested, for example, "prayer by the church was fervently being made to God on [Peter's] behalf." (12:5)

Was there really more hope that Peter would emerge alive from Herod's prison than that Bishop Rittle of Heartland will deal with accusations against his priests in a just and merciful way? No doubt there are many today who would bet on Peter and against Rittle, but the first disciples had their own doubts. When Peter, having been miraculously freed from prison, knocked on John Mark's mother's door, everyone thought the maid who heard his voice was out of her mind. Even people who believe in the need for prayer are often astounded by its power.

Catholics like to say that the Holy Spirit guides the Church. Well, the Holy Spirit isn't some sort of mystical compass; He is God, all-good and all-loving. Ask, and He will give it to you.

Prayer is never nothing. Often enough, it is everything.

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Thursday, November 14, 2002

31 Days, 31 Ways: Number 27

Hear, O Israel! The LORD our God, the LORD is one.


The oneness of God finds expression in the integrity of the man Jesus. "Integrity" here doesn't mean honesty, but undivided unity. Jesus did not assume one persona in public and another in private. All aspects of His life were directed toward the end for which He had been born.

(I think the idea of integrity is tremendously important. Being multi-faceted is generally considered a good thing, for people as for gemstones, but a person who is fully integrated would appear the same from any view, like a perfectly round pearl. And a perfectly round pearl, with appropriate color and luster, would be of great price....)

All that said, we would expect the mysteries of Jesus' life to be integrated. And in fact, we can pray the Rosary by meditating on the relations the various mysteries have with each other. For example:
  • The Annunciation and the Proclamation of the Kingdom (announcements of God's plan)
  • The Visitation and the Baptism of the Lord (Jesus and John meet)
  • The Nativity and the Resurrection (Jesus emerges)
  • The Presentation and the Baptism of the Lord (Jesus comes before a prophet)
  • The Finding of Jesus in the Temple and the Institution of the Eucharist (where to find Jesus)
  • The Baptism of the Lord and the Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost (the Holy Spirit made visible)
  • The Miracle at Cana and the Visitation (Mary presents Jesus to others)
  • The Proclamation of the Kingdom and the Carrying of the Cross (Jesus preaches the fullness of God's will)
  • The Transfiguration and the Ascension (Jesus in glory)
  • The Institution of the Eucharist and the Crucifixion (Jesus' sacrifice for our sake)
  • The Agony in the Garden and the Annunciation (preparation for the redemption of mankind)
  • The Scourging at the Pillar and the Transfiguration (others help Jesus to prepare for His death)
  • The Crowning with Thorns and the Nativity (tributes Jesus received during His lifetime)
  • The Carrying of the Cross and the Ascension (Jesus on His way to where He must be)
  • The Crucifixion and Finding Jesus (Jesus going about His Father's work)
  • The Resurrection and the Visitation (the joy of Christ's presence)
  • The Ascension and the Nativity (angels tell men where the Messiah is to be found)
  • The Descent of the Holy Spirit and the Presentation (God answers the prayers of those who wait)
  • The Assumption and the Ascension (Mary as perfect disciple of Jesus)
  • The Coronation of Mary and the Transfiguration (Mary following in Jesus' glory)
There are some interesting relations that run through the above pairings. We can, for example move from the Annunciation to the Proclamation to the Carrying of the Cross to the Ascension to the Assumption, which suggests that the Annunciation and the Assumption really are two ends of a single thread containing Jesus' ministry in word and deed.

Some mysteries are more strongly related (e.g., the Assumption and the Ascension) than others (e.g., the Agony in the Garden and the Annunciation), but they all speak of the same good news of salvation. As different mysteries tend to speak more or less strongly to us at different times, being able to meditate on one mystery in the light of another (however flickery that light might be) can help support us on those arid decades. (Personally, I don't think I've ever had more than a surface thought on the Scourging at the Pillar, but the Transfiguration is a mystery I can get something out of.)

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