Getting Advent Candles to Fit!

This is my simple gift to you this Advent Season.  I don't know WHY the companies who sell wreaths and candles don't make them mutually compatible, but I figured out what to do about it!

Lemon-Rum Glazed Apple Cake

Soft, cinnamon-spice apples, a perfect crumb cake that is not too too sweet and is moist without ever getting soggy or dense, and a light lemon, rum glaze that adds a bit of zip to the edges . . . mmmm.  Sadly for my waistline, this cake never lasts very long once it's out of the oven and onto my pretty cake plate.

Simple enough for a coffee-cake (Thanksgiving or Christmas morning?) and pretty enough for dessert, this cake is easy to whip up and always pleases a crowd.  Enjoy!

Lemon-Rum Glazed Apple Cake
(generously adapted from the Shenandoah Apple Cake in Virginia Bed & Breakfast Cookbook, which is full of lovely things)

Cake
5 Mutzu apples, peeled and thinly sliced [or some sort of apple that is crisp and a tad tart; the peeling part is easy if you have one of these beautiful inventions]
2 T. cinnamon
1/4 t. nutmeg
5 T + 2 c. organic sugar
4 large organic, free-range eggs
1 c. melted butter [2 sticks]
3 c. all-purpose flour [unbleached & not enriched; I have not yet tried whole grain flours, but I think a soft white wheat would work as up to 50% of the flour amount]
1 T. baking powder
2 1/2 t. vanilla extract [the real stuff]
Juice of 1 orange [ok, I cheated and used 1/4 c. orange juice, not from consentrate]

*Preheat your oven to 350F
*Grease & flour a bundt pan (or tube pan, but I don't have one) [I use non-hydrogenated, palm oil shortening--it can be found at Harris Teeter]
*In a medium bowl, combine the apples, cinnamon, nutmeg, and 5 T sugar; mix gently to coat the apples.
*In a large bowl [I use my mixer because I have no hand-strength], beat eggs with 2 c. sugar.
*Add butter, flour, baking powder, vanilla, and orange juice to the large bowl and mix well.
*Pour one layer of "batter" into the pan.  Then, put a layer of spiced apples.  (Try not to get the majority of the apples by the edges because it makes the cake crumble apart when you're cutting it later on.)  Alternate layers, ending with the batter if you're using a bundt pan.  [If you are using a tube pan, you can end with a decoratively arranged layer of apples and keep that side up when it's finished.]
*Bake for 60-70 min.  If it's a bundt pan, the top will look a little browned and a toothpick will come out mostly clean (unless you stabbed a juicy apple!).  If you did the tube pan with the apples on top style, the top should look a deep golden brown and be dryish.
*Let it cool for a bit in the pan until it separates from the edges a tad (10 min.), and then ease it out on a rack to cool.

Enjoy!  It pairs especially well with black tea, coffee, chai, or cider.

Glaze [if you want; it's perfectly lovely without, and this is just for the bundt pan version]
1/8 c. lemon juice
1/8 c. dark, spiced rum (or water)
1 1/2 c. confectioner's sugar

Mix & pour over cooled cake

In Whom do You Hope?

My conservative friends: We have two choices--to complain, to fear, to be walking stress balls . . . or to begin to live in such a way that people will see that a Christian way of life is joyful, kind, just, hard-working, and (when called upon) bold.
 
Except for a few brief periods of time in the last 2,000 years, Christians, and especially Catholics, have rarely been the "favored" or "approved" group of people.  In fact, the rapidly declining religious freedom we enjoy in this country is still envied by Christians across the world, especially in the Middle East and Asia. But that freedom is not preserved through silence or inaction.

And the best type of language is that of daily charity and truth to others; the best type of action is to be engaged in our world, affirming the dignity of others through justice and love, daily. Shutting down, becoming insular--this will not make a better world for our children. In so far as we can, WE must create the world our children know. We should not place all our hopes on a human government to create that world for them. Those hopes will always fail.

We find our hope in Christ who conquered death itself. Men will promise "hope," "change," and "a better tomorrow;" only Christ can say, "I make all things new." Perhaps we "believed in America" these last few months. I encourage you now to believe in God--and act that way.

The Red Balloon (1956 film): A Misunderstood Eucatastrophe & the Christian Ethos of Hope

Midnight found me slumped on the bathroom floor, totally forgetting my illness as, mesmerized, I watched The Red Balloon (Le Ballon Rouge; 1956, 34 min. French film).  The story line is simple, as most profound stories are.  [Spoiler alert.]  A boy and a balloon establish a sort of playful understanding and loyalty between them.  Just as you begin to delight in the innocence of this whimsical relationship, antagonistic figures emerge out of the grey backdrop of this painting to destroy the little boy's happiness.  A teacher disciplines the boy for distracting others at school with his toy, and the other boys in the class first envy him for his balloon, and then they seek to destroy it when they realize the balloon will not respond to them, as it does to the little boy.  The "death scene" of the balloon is surprisingly evocative.  The final moments of the film are overwhelmed with beautiful images of bright balloons coming to cheer the boy and carry him away, above the forces that threaten his innocent joy.

Reading reviews of this film, viewers often love it or hate it.  Those who dislike it tend to see it as predominantly grey, depressing, painful (especially if they themselves were bullied as a child), and either nihilistic or, at best, artificially existential in its ending.  On the contrary, I would argue that the true beauty of this film lies in its ending, neither reduced to a plain tragedy or a falsely optimistic denouement, but as a euchatastrophe.

Eucatastrophe is a brilliant term, coined by J. R. R. Tolkien.  He explains it much better than I could paraphrase:

"But the 'consolation' of fairy-tales has another aspect than the imaginative satisfaction of ancient desires. Far more important is the Consolation of the Happy Ending. Almost I would venture to assert that all complete fairy-stories must have it. At least I would say that Tragedy is the true form of Drama, its highest function; but the opposite is true of Fairy-story. Since we do not appear to possess a word that expresses this opposite — I will call it Eucatastrophe. The eucatastrophic tale is the true form of fairy-tale, and its highest function.

The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending: or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous “turn” (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially 'escapist', nor 'fugitive'. In its fairy-tale—or otherworld—setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

It is the mark of a good fairy-story, of the higher or more complete kind, that however wild its events, however fantastic or terrible the adventures, it can give to child or man that hears it, when the “turn” comes, a catch of the breath, a beat and lifting of the heart, near to (or indeed accompanied by) tears, as keen as that given by any form of literary art, and having a peculiar quality."  [from "On Fairy-Stories"]

However, in a world where few understand the operations of grace, never mind the ultimate image of grace in the Resurrection of Christ, this sort of hope is lost upon us.  We are taught that joy in sorrow is either a type of self-delusion or hardness to the world.  We also think of the triumph of justice as properly taking place as a public act.  A euchatastrophe transcends these limited concepts of suffering and redemption.  Rather, the joy is found in grief, and what seems to the world to be failure and a "stumbling block" is the seed of our hope.

"Eucatastrophe is a neologism coined by Tolkien from Greek ευ- 'good' and καταστροφή 'destruction'" (source).  Like many truths in Christianity, this paradox is actually truer to our experience in the realm of grace than either term in isolation.

Tolkien adds:

"I coined the word 'eucatastrophe': the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. It perceives – if the story has literary 'truth' on the second plane (....) – that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made. And I concluded by saying that the Resurrection was the greatest 'eucatastrophe' possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love." [Letter 89]

Some of the best art contains this sort of ending.  Beowulf, The Death of Ivan Illych, Crime & Punishment, Brideshead Revisited, Parker's Back (and many other O'Connor stories), The Wasteland . . . these are among the great works often mistaken for tragedies because the main character loses life, freedom, material goods, a spouse, or something else dear to him.  What is missed is that the sacrifice was made in order that the character might obtain the Pearl of Great Price (not always as Christianity per se, but as the greatest truth that the character has encountered to that point in his life).

I am not making a claim that The Red Balloon is a Christian metaphor.  But I do think it has an awfully lot to do with innocent love.  

All post-war art necessarily portrays a world that is broken, often cruel, and too "experienced" in hate and desperation to preserve innocence for long.  Yet, some of the most beautiful post-war masterpieces show the flowers growing in the ashes.  The greyness of post-war Europe was iconic: “Immediately east and north of Verdun there lies a broad, brown band ... Peaceful fields and farms and villages adorned that landscape a few months ago - when there was no Battle of Verdun. Now there is only that sinister brown belt, a strip of murdered Nature. it seems to belong to another world. Every sign of humanity has been swept away. The woods and roads have vanished like chalk wiped from a blackboard; of the villages nothing remains but gray smears where stone walls have tumbled together... On the brown band the indentations are so closely interlocked that they blend into a confused mass of troubled earth. Of the trenches only broken, half-obliterated links are visible.” (source)  But John McCrae and others noted that soon "In Flanders fields the poppies blow / Between the crosses, row on row" (source).  A bright red patch of innocence and beauty in the midst of a grey, embittered canvas of destruction--sound familiar?

The Red Balloon captures the imaginative bliss that a child can have despite his surroundings.  The hard realism of the world resents his joy, not because he has escaped pain, but because he has found a way to transcend it, while they have not.  A child's soul is sensitive and hopeful.  The world may try to crush this innocence, but what despair will never understand is that true love does not cease with death, true freedom does not cease with physical restraint, and true joy gives us a perspective that makes a dreary city more than a labyrinth filled with nightmares.  The boy's escape is not really an escape at all; it is an affirmation of who he has been all along.

When Is a Mother's Work Done?

I've had this idea banging around in my head the last two days, and today a friend's wonderful blog entry convicted me to (1) write down my idea and (2) follow it (much harder than the writing part).

When is a mother's work done?

Is it when she gets everyone up and dressed and fed and half-way decent looking in the morning?

Is is when she disciplines without losing her patience when one child practices being Mike Tyson on a sibling?

Is it when she finally masters the art of crock-pot dishes that taste delicious or masters grocery shopping for 5 under $100?

Is it when her child finally initiates saying grace on his own after weeks of coercion and reminders?

Is it when she repairs injuries with a kiss or when she scrubs the child, walls, floor, and potty after a potty training experiment gone totally wrong with a smile?

Is it when she sends them to kindergarten?  High school?  College?  Their first home with a spouse?

No, a mother's work is only "done" when she ceases to see it as work and begins to see it as acts of love.

In response to Cynthia's challenge, here are 7 things I've done RIGHT this week . . .

1) I have tried to pray the rosary again daily . . . got at least a decade on most days and two full rosaries.

2) I've spent less time on the computer while the kids are awake and more time inventing activities for the three of us.

3) I've put together healthy meals for my family, including working at a potato salad recipe (my husband's favorite) until it was perfect.

[this is hard . . . ]

4)  I chose not to gossip and complain on several occasions when my husband got home from work.

5) I chose to welcome a little boy in our neighborhood to play with us, even though he drives me insane with his need for attention.

6) I successfully recognized when my little guy needed love and attention on several occasions (instead of just seeing his acting out to be defiance) and met that need with some extra snuggle time and book reading to calm his crankiness.

7) I did several activities with my little guy to celebrate the feast of the Assumption and to teach him about Mary (partly in hopes that she'd teach him the things about motherhood that his own mother fails to model).

Image source

St. Lawrence, Exploding Toilets, and Sanity

Because sometimes a day with two kids under the age of three has just been uncannily perfect . . .

JT: makes a funny face in the corner

Me:  Need to go potty, buddy?

JT: No.
. . .

Mommy, I go poppy!  As he runs to the bathroom with me chasing him, madly wishing like a 2nd place Olympian to reach the finish line in time despite all odds and laws of physics.

Me: Oh no!  You already went in your undies! Remembering that the potty training books say not to react to accidents too negatively so the kid doesn't get traumatized for life.
It's ok, buddy.  Good job trying to get here in time.  Next time, let's go to the potty when Mommy says to, ok?

I change him out of two layers soiled clothing as he hops around trying to see "it."  Then, I wipe the kid [notice, post-accident he temporarily becomes "the kid" instead of "buddy."]  I scrub his pants out, deposit the items in the wash 5 feet away, and whirl around to the sound of a slamming bathroom door.  A scared little face topped by unruly blonde hair sends me sprinting back into the closet-sized ground zero.  He did the unspeakable thing . . . he flushed a clogged toilet TWICE.  Foul water pools all over the bathroom floor.  I'm pretty sure I make a noise like a small animal being strangled and disemboweled simultaneously.  Mustering all of my remaining patience, I stoop down and look the kid square in the eyes.

Did you flush the potty TWO times?  Remember, Daddy said, 'Never flush the potty more than once.'"

He nods, somewhat comprehending that this has to do with him and not just a faulty toilet.  In the background his ignored baby sister starts letting us know she wants company in decibels that sound analysts say can only be endured for 20 seconds at a time.

Ok, go play with your toys while Mommy cleans this up.

He skips away, glad that whatever he did didn't end up in a timeout.  I grab the entire rag box and attack the flood with a vengeance.  Enter a wave of self-pity:
  "Why did this happen today?  I was just getting ready to make brownies for the feast day and the kids have been SO good . . . the feast day . . . St. Lawrence . . . who was burned alive on a grill for following his vocation and still kept a sense of humor.  Shut up, Kelly.

In the Bible, at moments like these people are always told to "gird up their loins" and push on in faith and acceptance.  In my best attempt to be holy, I grab up the sopping rags in the spirit of 1 Peter 1:13 ["Therefore gird up your minds, be sober, set your hope fully upon the grace that is coming to you..."].  I finish the soaking, the sterilizing, the purification of hands to temporarily plug my daughter's mouth with a pasi, the breathing of fumes from a cocktail of disinfectants, the catapulting everything into the wash, and the vigorous soaping of my hands up to the elbows . . . all with a smile at the bit of humor I was able to see in the situation.

JT: Mommy!  I clean up too!  As he rounds the corner scrubbing himself with a wipe and mumbling about "magic shoes."  Still not sure what the shoe part is all about . . .

Me: Thanks, buddy.  My heart is affectionate again, and he is no longer "the kid."  I wind quickly through the toys that have seemingly sprouted out of the floor while I cleaned around the corner; it's time to rescue baby girl.  Poor thing.

As I pick her up, my hand hits something moist . . . Apparently, big brother used more than one wipe and shoved this one down into his sister's chair.  I'm glad his sharing lessons are working so well, maybe.

I may not be called to give my life over to an executioner with a grill.  But motherhood has its own very little (and sometimes not so little) martyrdoms of self.  

How grateful I am for God's grace in these moments . . . and for chocolate . . . I think it's time to bake those brownies for St. Lawrence.

Rice & Quinoa: A Healthier Tummy Filler

Many people who are interested in switching to "real food" struggle to incorporate whole grains (rather than nutrient-devoid white flours) and to increase healthy, saturated fats and protein in their diet.  Here's one simple change that can accomplish all three!

Rather than just throwing some refined, white pasta or 10 min. white rice on the stove, consider this blend:

Nutty Rice & Quinoa
2/3 c. brown rice (not the instant cook type)
1/3 c. quinoa (read the directions, some types need to be washed first)
3 T. coconut oil
1/2 t. sea salt (or more to taste)
2 1/4 c. water
2T. butter (preferably grass-fed)

Toss the first 5 ingredients in a rice cooker (or make on the stove the old fashioned, needs-supervision way), covered, for 30-40 minutes.  [I always taste it to make sure it's the right consistency before saying it's done.]  Mix in butter.

This is smooth, buttery, and has lots of protein (because of the quinoa) and good fats with the coconut oil and butter.

Quinoa is a GREAT replacement grain.  Some of my friends have super picky kids who don't really like meats but will eat this grain with enough yummy butter and salt.  It's also gluten free.

This grain is good cold or hot and makes a good replacement for rice in soups, salads, sides, etc.  In fact, the recipe above can also be made with all quinoa (and a shorter cook time), but my family still prefers the rice taste to the nuttier quinoa, so we mix it to get some of the benefits of each.

Admission: I know some people soak or sprout quinoa to maximize digestibility and nutrient intake--I'm not there yet.  Maybe someday.  Right now I'm kinda digging the "fast and healthy" version.

Secret Ingredient Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ok, so I guess if I tell you the secret ingredient, it's hardly a secret anymore.  BUT, when people taste your amazing cookies, they'll say, "Wow!  These are really good!  What did you put in them?" you can respond, "My secret ingredient."

Well, I needed something special for my tired guy after a long day of work, so this is the result.

SECRET INGREDIENT CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
[Adapted from the Choc. Chip Cookie recipe in the 1973 ed. of the Good Housekeeping Cookbook]

Ingredients:
1 1/4 c. unbleached, all-purpose flour  [scoop and level w/ a knife, don't spoon it into the measuring cup]
1/3-1/2 c. packed light brown sugar [I like mine a little less sweet]
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. butter softened [1 stick; you should be able to press your finger in it easily, but it shouldn't be practically melted]
1/2 t. baking soda [w/o aluminum]
1/2 t. sea salt
1 dash nutmeg [seriously, just a small dash; secret ingredient #1]
1 large egg [organic, for in case when you decide to eat the dough]
1 t. almond extract [your secret ingredient #2! Imitation extract doesn't cut it]
1/4 t. vanilla extract
6 oz. [or 1 c.] semi-sweet chocolate pieces [my favorite are the Ghirardelli dark choc. chunks, but in the picture I used mini-chips b/c they were in the pantry today]

What 2 Do:
Preheat the over to 375 F. and grease your cookie sheets.

In a large bowl, measure all your dry ingredients and mix with a fork.

Lightly beat your egg with the extracts.

Beat the dry ingredients, butter, and wet ingredients (egg mixture) together in a mixer on medium, just until blended and clumped.

Add your chocolate chips and mix on low for a few seconds until they are generally distributed through the dough.

Loosely form 1' balls with a spoon and your hands.  Smash them a bit.  And space them a couple inches apart on your cookie sheet.  [If you have more than one sheet worth, keep dough cold in the fridge before putting it in the oven--warm oils = flat cookies.]

Bake 10-12 min. until lightly browned on edges.  It's ok if they're still a tad light in the center.

Remove from oven, let sit for a couple minutes, remove with a spatula onto wire racks, and try to wait until they're not molten chocolate before you devour them with a creamy glass of milk.

This should make about 2 doz. 2' diameter cookies (bit thick and chewy but not soggy!)  It will make fewer if you ate a spoonful (or two) of dough like I did . . .

Cinnamon Sugar Popcorn

Sometimes cloudy, thundery days that are 90+ degrees out (and thus unfit for little people playing on metal playgrounds) require special snacks to keep us all going.  This one provides both entertainment as well as deliciousness.

Caught red-handed!

Cinnamon Sugar Popcorn
1/2 cup unpopped popcorn (I like to use organic heirloom types--so yummy!)
2 T. butter

Make the above as listed on your stove-top popcorn maker.  Be careful not to overcook (burn) it--you'll have to sacrifice those last couple kernels not popping for it to be right.

3 t. sugar (you might be able to replace this w/ honey; I haven't yet tried)
2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. sea salt

Mix these together in a little bowl.  When the popcorn is done, toss these into the popcorn maker with another 2-3T. butter and give it a mix and a swirl.

Now, pour it all into a bowl and watch your good intentions to give some to the neighbors melt away as you rapturously stuff your face.  Maybe, I'm sometimes tempted to snatch the bowl away from JT so I get a little more . . . maybe.  :)

I can't blame JT for stuffing his face--it was pretty much
a race to see who could consume more!

Seriously, though, it makes awesome gifts (in a little bag or tin) to give to teachers, neighbors, people you owe a thank you to, that person who has everything whom you need to buy a Christmas gift for, etc.

The American Dream

I remember as a kid singing along boisterously to the catchy lyrics:
Only in America
Can a guy from anywhere
Go to sleep a pauper and wake up a millionaire

Only in America
Can a kid without a cent
Get a break and maybe grow up to be President

The American Dream is a funny thing.  See, we used to actually mean these images in the lyrics above in a literal way.  When some of my great-great-grandparents came over on the boat, they really were penniless and looking for opportunity found through hard work and a little luck.  But I think that our concept of American success has moved away from American exceptionalism [in the sense de Tocqueville meant as a people focused on hard work and practicality, nearly to the point of abandoning cultural arts] and toward American sensationalism [where one creates a sensation, not a product and achieves fame, not experience].  In other words, we focus less on hard work and more on deserving a break or an opportunity for fame.

We still like the "underdog" to win.  This is why we rejoice to see a guy writing music in his basement, surrounded by an awesome vintage toy collection as a grand success.  But I think Walt Kowalski and his ilk would have a conniption if we told them that was our new image of the American Dream.  70 Million hits and counting on You Tube and you're there, baby!


Now, while I appreciate a new music sensation as much as the next Generation Y young adult, I worry that many of my peers expect that to be the "normal" path to success.  I see this attitude in my students all too often when they slack off all year and then beg for extra credit at the end--the magic moment when it all just clicked without much work never happened!  Fortunately, I also have many students who know that you only pass a Mrs. Henson test with some effort; even if their grades are not sky-high now, they are on the road to true success.


I hear a lot of talk about our problematic "entitlement culture."  What people don't talk about as often is the source--good ol' fashioned laziness.  Some say the generations before us worked so hard that they tried to pave the road smoothly for us, so we could have it easy.  Well, we do have it easy in many ways, but we also are experiencing ridiculous rates of clinical depression--my generation doesn't know how to deal with difficulty when it comes, and we don't know how to use elbow grease to get out of the rut we're in.  Case in point, I heard a mom bemoaning the other day that she probably couldn't have more kids because she wouldn't be able to pay for college for more than three.  Since when were you a bad parent if you couldn't shell out $30,000/yr for college for each kid?  I know quite a few people who paid their own way through college and have become financially savvy, resourceful, and thrifty at a young age because of it.

True success is not instant fame or even being a millionaire or billionaire who can afford a personal helicopter ride to ski down an iceberg or something.  I'd say that true financial/work success is the ability to provide the necessities for your family in an ethical way that uses your talents to serve others.  Sadly, in an economic and social climate that makes it difficult to survive on one income and that struggles to understand that raising a family well is hard work, we are in danger of losing the traditional American Dream to a society polarized into workaholics and state-supported non-workers.  Sadly, I know people forced by circumstances into both of these categories.  How do we recapture American exceptionalism?  Perhaps by just doing it ourselves.  Gandhi says, "Be the change you want to see in the world."  I think that's easier said than done, but necessary all the while.

Image source

The NC Marriage Amendment & a Medieval Poem

This evening, I was given the opportunity to bathe in the glorious, energetic concoction that is Carl Orff's rendition of "Carmina Burana."  The "O Fortuna" part should be familiar to you from its use in film scores during epic battle scenes.  The juxtaposition of the final two movements is brilliant, terrifying, and (at least it struck me as) particularly apropos as we navigate the tumultuous waves of response in the wake of North Carolina's approval of the Marriage Amendment (or Amendment 1, if you prefer technical euphemisms).  Apples and oranges?  Be patient with me . . .



"Carmina Burana" is a mostly Latin, Medieval series of poems of unknown origin.  Orff, a German composer of the early to mid 20th century, chose 24 of these poems for his theatrical composition.  The piece begins with a warning by Fortune who "mak[es] sport with our desires / causing power / and poverty alike / to melt like ice."  Following this are a series of lighter, bucolic melodies praising spring and flirtation.  This moves into the darker "Tavern" section which sometimes humorously and sometimes darkly recites a litany of man's darker habits and inclinations.  Finally, the "Court of Love" focuses on a young woman's abnegation of her chastity as she gives in to the sensuous desires of her lover.  This section ends with a choral piece called "Ave formosissima" or "Hail to thee, most lovely" [see clip below].  Anyone who has some exposure to traditional, Catholic polyphony and reads the translation will catch that this is a thinly veiled parody of a hymn to the Virgin Mary; however, here the virgin at the center of this encomium is the woman who has become a "Venus" and "Helen" to her lover.  The tone of this piece is euphoric. Suddenly, the tone shifts [2:35 in the clip below] and Fortune strides in to snatch our attention back to the warning from the beginning of the whole piece; She is still in control, and implied is the short-lived nature of our amorous couple's passion.  Human love is glorious; a bond between a couple may lift one to the heights of human experience.  Yet, that same human love is unstable and subject to the whims of Fortune ... or to the frustrations of how much money to spend on the new couch.

Switch gears: The Marriage Amendment is not setting out to RE-define anything or to take away current rights or protections from anyone.  There have been plenty of legal reviews to ensure that this is the case.  It merely seeks to establish what used to be a basic assumption--namely, that only a legally bound, committed relationship between a man and a woman has the potential to be a building block of society.  That type of relationship is so fundamentally different from all the other types of legal contracts or domestic situations people might have that it gets a special name, marriage, that no one else can apply to his or her relationship.  Some claim this is bigotry.  Others claim it is elitist or even a type of eugenics!  I say, it's time we understood (even setting aside all moral arguments for or against various lifestyle choices) that marriage under the traditional definition is irreplaceable as a foundation for society.

As our musical piece above dramatizes so well, various sorts of human love outside of the bond of marriage can be deliriously exciting and mutually comforting.  In so far as a person goes out of him or herself to recognize, affirm, and value the good of the other, there really is love on some level within monogamous heterosexual and homosexual relationships.  However, those relationships lack two things (at least! philosophy, sociology, history, and various faith traditions may add quite a few more) that make them inadequate to replace or join marriage as a particular necessity within society.

First, as indicated by the dramatic change between the last two movements, human relationships are subject to the same fickle storms of passion that begin them.  If emotion is one's highest good, than Fortune (and the emotions that result from her fiddling with her wheel) becomes the ruling force behind the relationship and stability is only "real" while the emotions continue.  This is all true unless the relationship is subjected to something more lasting than itself or its origin.  In marriage, the public, legal contract made between the man and woman gives them stability, a motivation beyond themselves to stay together, even in difficult times.

Monogamous heterosexual couples are by definition less committed (and thus less socially stable) than a married couple; otherwise (in most cases), they would just get married.  Monogamous homosexual relationships, statistically, are highly likely to be short lived.  Interestingly, a 2004 study in Vermont showed that including them legally into contractual "marriages" did not help the longevity statistics; nearly 80% of monogamous homosexual couples decided not to take the step, now legalized there, to get "married."  Sadly, the accessibility and frequency of divorce in our country is making even many traditional marriages less steady ground for our society to trust for its economic, social, and moral stability and consistency.

Secondly, traditional marriages have the highest probability of the various relationship types to be fruitful and formative.  A society must birth and raise future citizens to continue successfully.  In a committed relationship, a couple is more likely to open themselves to children.  In turn, the presence of these children gives the couple yet another reason outside of themselves and their emotions to stay together and make things work.  Also, the distinct roles of a man and woman help their children to understand and interact with society, based on their experiences within the microcosm of the family unit.  [Clarification: married couples who are infertile are not by extension less essential to society.  The stability of their bond often lends itself toward fruitfulness within their larger community in other ways and the (natural or spiritual) adoption of other children.]

Cohabiting, heterosexual couples are more likely to use birth-control to prevent pregnancy because of the unstable and vague concept they have of their bond.  When they do have children, the undefined nature of their roles within the family and that family's place within society may prove disorienting for the children and detrimental to their secure development.  Homosexual couples are intrinsically unable to have children, so they can't be the most essential building block of society.  If homosexual couples chose to adopt a child, that child will still lack (at the very least) the unique formation received through the experience of parents of different genders.

I think that people's virulent reactions to the passed amendment are often less about them having true legal issues with something that's always been taken for granted and than about connected issues.  First of all, they may be reacting in order to support the people they know who are cohabiting or who are in a homosexual relationship and whom they don't want to judge or isolate.  They know that to join the "marriage" camp may seem like a rejection of these wonderful people they know.  I too have friends and family members who are lovely people with hearts that really have true affection for others, even if they make relationship decisions that morally I disagree with.

I also wonder, particularly in the case of married people who are against the amendment, if they truly understand and appreciate the uniqueness of their own marriage--its contribution toward society, toward the formation of their children, and toward the mutual betterment of the spouses who can live confident in the knowledge that the other loved them enough to make a free, commitment for life to them.  The Pontifical Council for the Family stated (in 2000): "Equality before the law must respect the principle of justice which means treating equals equally, and what is different differently: i.e., to give each one his due in justice. This principle of justice would be violated if de facto unions were given a juridical treatment similar or equivalent to the family based on marriage. If the family based on marriage and de facto unions are neither similar nor equivalent in their duties, functions and services in society, then they cannot be similar or equivalent in their juridical status."  The good ol' Catechism would add: "The family is the original cell of social life. It is the natural society in which husband and wife are called to give themselves in love and in the gift of life. Authority, stability, and a life of relationships within the family constitute the foundations for freedom, security, and fraternity within society. The family is the community in which, from childhood, one can learn moral values, begin to honour God, and make good use of freedom. Family life is an initiation into life in society." (n.2207)

Finally, I think some people disagree on a moral level, or maybe just on a gut reaction sort of level, to cohabitation, homosexuality, or both.  They don't know how to rectify this feeling with the politically correct dogma of tolerance that they constantly feel subjected to.  Thus, in order to quell their inner voice that's challenging them to really consider these relationships, their impact on society and on they themselves, and the way in which to approach the individuals they know who live in these different ways, these uncomfortable souls just try to silence those who remind them that essential differences do exist and that there are differences of degree and of kind within the realm of relationships that ought not be erased or equated.  In Brideshead Revisited Cara, a mistress of a married man, comments on this phenomenon (and more specifically about why her paramour and others dislike his wife) by saying, "When people hate with all that energy, it is something in themselves they are hating."  I think there is oftentimes some truth to this statement.

We respond energetically to the things that matter most to us and that touch us at our core.  Our sexuality and our choices about how we express it (and how others close to us express it) are, thus, rather inflammatory topics.  Yet, if everything in our society becomes relative ... if we no longer can at least defend the linguistic primacy of marriage among other relationships from a social and economic point of view ... if the foundation of our society is gradually replaced with limestone and sand rather than granite ... we should be ready to face the consequences, and perhaps "O Fortuna" would be an appropriate accompaniment to the fallout.

Image source
Some quotations grabbed from here

Efficiency in Storms and Doldrums

The kids both went down for naps at nearly the same time today.  I feel giddy.  I could accomplish so much!  Or I could relax.  Or I could blog, which is a type of relaxing that feels more justified because it's a little closer to the work category than watching an episode of Psych.

My newest tool for efficiency (and sanity) is making mini-mental check-lists on a timer.  That's a nonsensical way of saying that I do the following:

DURING NAPS:
I pick 2-4 tasks that I want to complete before they wake up.  If I get done early, I get to relax.  If I don't, well, we just all try to get through pit-hour as best we can.

DURING THE MOMENTS WHEN EVERYONE'S CRYING (and I'm crying on the inside):
First, I step out of the room, say a quick prayer (like, "God!!!!!! Seriously?!?!"), and remind myself that I'm forming souls to be saints, not single-handedly entering a war zone of whining enemy soldiers with deadly, under-the-foot-matchbox-car land mines strategically waiting my return.

Then, I make a game plan for dealing with needs and then wants, in that order, for the next 5 minutes.
--Drink a glass of water (like a shot) b/c it feels like a headache is coming on and when was the last time I hydrated anyways?
--Go bring JT to timeout for not listening after a warning and for trying to climb the window shades while throwing various objects in the general direction of his sister.
--Get MJ her bottle.
--Pull out meat from the freezer for dinner tonight before I forget for the 8th time.

Ta-da!  I finish that and survive the minor crisis.  I haven't fainted.  JT is contemplating his actions and his impending apology (or contemplating his mortality, depending on how patient I was while lecturing him on the way to timeout) in his room with his blankie.  MJ has a happy tummy.  And my husband will not be faced with mac & cheese for dinner tonight.

Evangelization: Let the little children come unto me

This year during Holy Week my reflections turned to the ordinary people who were present during that week in Christ's life.  I wondered if the people who threw down palm branches were the same ones who yelled, "Crucify Him!" or were they hiding at home afraid?  I wondered if parents tried to explain all the hoopla in their hometown to their children and how they attempted to do so.

I also considered where my place was during the Easter Triduum.  Should I be at the foot of the cross on Good Friday at Church during the middle of nap-time with sleep deprived kids?  I figured that wasn't right this year . . . I would do my best, however, to invite my children (mainly 2 yr old JT) to celebrate the Paschal Mysteries with me.

Then, it occurred to me that while I have prayed with James and told him that Jesus loves us and takes care of us, I have not really shared the Gospel with him.  This realization somewhat shocked me; after all, my job for two years with FOCUS was to share the Gospel with perfect strangers and newly acquired friends.  How had I failed to make this a constant theme with my oldest child?  Maybe 2 1/2 years of infancy is not a "failure," but it made me realize that I had been much more verbal about other things (dinosaur names, the plot of The Little Engine That Could, etc.) than I had about the Person who should be the center of my life.  Good reality check.

The week leading up to Easter was remedial toddler CCD.  We colored pictures having to do with the Passion.  We got a little figurine set to talk about the Resurrection.  And we began singing Bible/Christian songs and reading Bible stories on a daily basis.  [I thought about doing this too, but maybe next year.  It was a little old for him.]  It was a beautiful week, and the conversation that has continued to stem from this new orientation toward "evangelizing" my son has yielded fruit as well.

For those of you who might have a toddler who is particularly resistant to spiritual things (James was resistant before and still struggles significantly at Mass), there is hope!  Keep your introduction to Our Lord positive and work with the child and his or her interests and capacity for attention.  Prayer should be pleasant when possible (like forming a friendship with a favorite book/show character or a new neighbor kid), and they should also get a sense of our spiritual family "routine" (like Mass on Sunday being a non-negotiable) and that they should be somewhat quiet for that.  We're introducing evening prayer by talking to him about things he wants to pray for or thank Jesus for and singing the other prayers (The Guardian Angel prayer sung to the tune of "Rock a Bye Baby" and "Jesus loves me").  He lets me know if I forget to sing the angel song with him before bed!


We know that Jesus is "on the radar" now as a friend because of moments like this morning when he showed me his cars all lined up in rows. "Cars praying to Jesus, Mommy. All prayin'!"  He also told his Daddy the other night, "Jesus, up there [pointing above his bed].  He not talking.  He have a smile."


It warms my heart to see my son turning to His Lord in friendship.  What do any of you do to "evangelize" your children within your own "domestic church"?

Hunger Games: A Review

[Spoiler alert!]

Ok, so I jumped on the bandwagon and read The Hunger Games.  Honestly, part of what encouraged me to read it was an e-mail passed to me comparing this book about "cannibalism" (hardly) to Harry Potter, Twilight, and all the other books corrupting the youth out there.  [I agree about Twilight; I think Harry Potter is ok for more mature audiences, not for the little kids it targets.]  Something deep inside my book-worm heart (or 5 aortic arches?) rebels when I hear books grouped too readily by well-meaning conservatives into a banned book list.  Too often, the good goes out with the bad because of a lack of understanding of the value (and even the necessity) of some violence and evil within literature.

Without going into a whole defense of the matter, I will give you the following quotation by Flannery O'Connor (a Catholic and a master of the appropriate use of the grotesque within fiction) to consider:
"The serious writer has always taken the flaw in human nature for his starting point, usually the flaw in an otherwise admirable character. Drama usually bases itself on the bedrock of original sin, whether the writer thinks in theological terms or not. Then, too, any character in a serious novel is supposed to carry a burden of meaning larger than himself. The novelist doesn't write about people in a vacuum; he writes about people in a world where something is obviously lacking, where there is the general mystery of incompleteness and the particular tragedy of our own times to be demonstrated, and the novelist tries to give you, within the form of the book, the total experience of human nature at any time. For this reason, the greatest dramas naturally involve the salvation or loss of the soul. Where there is no belief in the soul, there is very little drama. "

[And it is this element, a belief in the soul and the value of protecting it that helps redeem Harry Potter from the dredges of magician lore and irresponsible authority figures and that condemns Twilight to the dim reaches of literature that pretends morality by keeping certain limitations while glorifying all that is inhuman and anti-communal and much that is unchaste.]

So, a brief look at The Hunger Games from a literary and moral perspective . . . [It is certainly entertaining, I won't seek to address that side of things.]

The Good

• Thematically, I appreciated the relevant, dystopic focus on the objectification of man within reality entertainment, the inauthenticity of media presentation and bodily modification, the importance of human life (and burial rites as a way of showing reverence for human dignity), the value of self-sacrifice, the danger of totalitarian control over natural resources and economics, etc.
• Artistically, I liked the sub-cultures within the various Districts complete with their own landscape, way of adaptation to the Capital's control, economic specialties, local customs, and types of bread.  Interestingly, this element also, like the Houses in Harry Potter, makes millions for those who churn out fan-material connected to the books and movies as each reader chooses his or her favorite Tribute and District and buys posters and memorabilia associated with that "team."  I'll remember this effective marketing element if I ever start writing pop-fiction for obsessive teens.
• I thought some of the imagery was good and helped the reader visualize the story well.  You could see how easy it would be to translate it to film (which I have not seen yet) and satisfy the fans of the book since there isn't a ton of lee-way for imaginative license [though, apparently some very silly readers imagined "dark skin" in District 11 to mean something other than "black" and became riled up over the casting in the movie.]
• The manipulative tone of the Gamekeepers was consistent throughout.  One was never tempted to glorify them or praise them for their ingenuity since their disregard for human life was so obvious.  It would have been a lesser book had the opposite been true.
• There is no sexuality (except for a mention that sometimes the female Tributes were practically naked when first presented to the crowds) and Katniss is personally very modest (keeps well-covered and doesn't want to strip Peeta when he's injured, etc.).  There's lots of kissing, but no real description there, and it's made Platonic and almost repulsive by Katniss' mental analysis of how she is using her affection for Peeta to win over the audience.
• The violence is there but remains verbally distant.  Collins doesn't even get close to approaching the level of violent description of Homer's Iliad, never mind some of the gruesome modern novels people read.  She allows the reader to be imaginative to his own tolerance level, but she does not glory in the details herself.  I have no idea how they have portrayed the first day's "blood bath" or Cato's brutal death from the mutant wolves in the movie, but in the books, all of that happens out of the main character's view and thus out of the reader's as well.

The Not-So-Good

• Katniss needed to stop thinking so much.  As an over-analyzer myself, it is not an attractive quality in a character.  Tolkien's Aragorn never had to remind himself of his family problems and conflicted emotions every single time he acted.  Tolkien's reader is expected to remember the back-stories and assume that they were formative to his characters.  Collins didn't seem to want to have that much faith in her readers.  (Don't believe me?  Start counting how many times Katniss mentions Gale when she thinks of Peeta or how many times she mentions her dad's love of music or her mom's "checked out" period after his death.  The girl doesn't let anything go!)  The rule in fiction is "SHOW don't TELL" what a character is feeling and thinking . . . Collins forgot this rule.
• Katniss understands that sexuality (or at least romance in her case) can be used to play upon the audience's emotions, but I think she is naive in thinking that she can play that sort of a role and not be affected.  She doesn't seem to catch on that what she does with her body affects her mind/soul.  Similarly, she doesn't catch on until really really far along that Peeta is authentic in his affection for her.  Then, she doesn't have the honesty or self-knowledge to tell him that she's still just using their romance as a survival technique . . . maybe.  Character internal conflict is good in a novel, but her conflict remains mostly unresolved at the end, which is lame and provides a cheap trick to transition to a sequel.
• Linked to this is the idea that Katniss borrows from Peeta that she wants to preserve something of her humanity while she alternates between killing and running from her fellow Tributes.  Great idea and well executed in Rue's burial.  It's also somewhat apparent in her sacrificial alliance with Peeta when he's wounded and a little less apparently in her "mercy killing" of Cato.  By the time she confesses to Peeta that she's been using him the whole time to get crowd approval, it's hard to believe that the games have not changed her.  They have at the very least convinced her that "everyone can lie" when needed--so keep your humanity and individuality by playing a double game in order to screw over the government with your deceit . . . and possibly use your friend too.  Good message?
• If you're going to use names with cultural references (Cato, Hawthorne, Caesar, Cinna, Plutarch, & Portia) there should be a connection to the historical personality or position.  Otherwise, your only message is, "Old names sound cool but this dystopian society (or I as an author) have totally lost track of their significance."  Speaking of, everyone makes a big deal out of Collins being inspired by the story of Theseus but I have yet to see (personally or in any published commentary) what the link could possibly be.  Theseus kills big strong things and so does Katniss?

The Lame

•  Katniss is just a weak character.  Just as she doesn't fit a "box" when Haymitch tries to find an image for her to project at the opening interviews, she never seems to quite know herself or to be known by anyone (except perhaps Gale).  She's fiercely loyal to young, innocent girls and conflicted at best in her relationship with everyone else.  She comes across as fierce or air-headed at various points depending on how the crowd wants to see her or how much she enjoyed her last kiss.  You could see her as a budding adolescent who has trained herself in cynicism and stoicism but is realizing that emotion will assert itself despite her best efforts.  But as a Bildungsroman, the book fails to bring her to a point of greater maturity, just greater conflict.  Perhaps I'm not being fair since I have not read the whole series.  Maybe The Hunger Games was never meant to stand alone.  However, since her survival of the Hunger Games themselves was never really a point of suspense (you can't just kill off the main character in first book of a three book series), I was hoping that character development would fill out the trajectory of the plot line, and it didn't.
• All the other characters are flat.  There is no development at all in any of them.  I expect this treatment of minor characters in pre-Rennaisance or even pre-Romantic Era fiction where "types" or "stock characters" were seen as universal elements meant to compliment the protagonist but not distract from his or her action.  But, in modern fiction, which often claims to delight in psychological awareness or realistic detail, it looks like authorial laziness.

Not to end on a bad note . . . I'd give it a 5 or 6 out of 10.  It is morally neutral and perhaps a good starting point for conversations about some of the social and moral issues brought up.  It's a fast and interesting story line with some creative ideas and not too much borrowing from other pop-fiction (that I'm aware of).  It doesn't delight in darkness, but it does recognize the violent consequences of false ideologies that trust fear rather than virtue to control a population.  It fits my definition of good "cotton candy" reading--consume it, enjoy it, and don't make it the staple of your literary diet.

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Palm Sunday: Oresteia vs. Agnus Dei

My best prayer usually happens in the dark hours of the morning when I'm awake with someone little and trying to cuddle them back to sleep.  Perhaps this is because in my quiet role as a parent in those hours I best understand God's infinite patience with us, His fretful little children.  This morning my thoughts turned to Palm Sunday . . . and to Aeschylus' Agamemnon . . . because I'm a geek like that.

In the first play of the Oresteia, Agamemnon, a great king, returns home from the Trojan War.  He has led the Greek armies to triumph after ten years, and he eagerly anticipates his reunion with his wife Clytemnestra and his two remaining children.  [He sacrificed the first one, but that's another story.]  Upon his arrival, Clytemnestra plans a huge celebratory entrance into the city and asks him to enter his house walking on red cloths strewn upon the ground.  This final honor is usually reserved for gods, and Agamemnon (rightly) hesitates.  Cajoled by his wife, he finally accepts the honor, with a "please don't kill me" prayer to the gods, and enters his house.  Tragically, while he's been gone Clytemnestra has been living with his cousin Aegisthus [who hates Agamemnon because his dad, Atreus, made Aegisthus' dad eat his own kids, leaving Aegisthus as the only survivor, but that's yet another story].  Together the couple has planned Agamemnon's murder, and he, unsuspecting of treachery, is brutally slain in his bathtub, entangled by a net and axed in the head by his wife.  (I know, lovely thing to be contemplating at 5 am.)

The Greeks LOVED this story.  To them, it was one of the ultimate tragedies.  Homer uses it in the Odyssey to contrast Penelope's faithfulness to Odysseus with the unnatural lust, infidelity, and violence of Clytemnestra (though he claims Aegisthus struck the final blow).  However, the Greeks didn't just enjoy the story because of the irony of a man entering the city victoriously only to be slaughtered by the ones who should love him most, but because of the revenge that takes place through Orestes, the son of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon.  That act of justice provides the proper catharsis for the fear and pity aroused by the tragic start of the three act play.  In other words, the story was great because it was a story of revenge; the tragedy was great because it was unexpected, undeserved, and eventually answered in the double killings by Orestes and by the consequent rulings of justice by Athena, et al.

Scenes from the Life of Christ: Entry into Jerusalem
by Giotto (c. 1305)

Now, let's look at the entrance of Christ into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  At first, it's tempting to see our celebration of Palm Sunday as a sick reenactment of a terrible irony.  Like Agamemnon, Christ enters the city victoriously only to be slaughtered by the ones who should love him most, the ones to whom He was promised as Messiah.  With Christ, the tragedy is increased--He KNOWS his followers will prove unfaithful, He DESERVES the honor of a deity and the homage of the cloaks thrown before his mount, and His death WON'T be avenged by His children.  Yet, we celebrate?

Christianity is a religion that deals with reality.  No "white glove" avoidance of the grittier aspects of life for us (Ivan Ilych style); our God is the one who heals blindness with spit and mud.  Our celebration of Palm Sunday is "gritty" like this.  I think we celebrate the good of recognizing that Christ is Lord, the good of homage before our God made Man and dwelling among us.  At the same time, our joy is mixed with grief at our own betrayal.  We are Clytemnestra, the whore of Babylon that praises God and yet turns from Him over and over to satisfy our carnal desires.

The readings for Palm Sunday acknowledge our duplicity.  We praise as God one who "did not regard equality with God something to be grasped," but "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave."  Then, we read the Passion according to Mark, and we become the voice of the Crowd, those who praised Him, those who welcomed Him, only to shout "Crucify Him!" days later.

We don't celebrate our hypocrisy.  We celebrate God's mercy in response to our weakness.  We reenact Palm Sunday not because we delight in the irony of our treachery, but because we are in awe that in our worst moment of betrayal, God elevated our humanity and gave us forgiveness and the chance at eternal life with Him.  We glory "not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the expiation for our sins."

This is the mystery of Our God, that He can take a moment of tragic irony--a triumphant march to death at the hands of one's own people--and redeem it through love rather than revenge, through life rather than through death.

Aeschylus was a master story-teller.  But despite all his Furies and the court of Athena with Apollo bellowing Orestes' defense, his story remains essentially a human one justified on a mythical plane.  Our Story, inexplicable apart from a knowledge of God's nature, transcends history, human reason, and human justice.  Our Church is the New Jerusalem, our Mass is Calvary, and our redemption through grace is just as real today as it was for the first Christians when Christ begged, "Father, forgive them they know not what they do."  And it is for this reason that we rejoice.

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Lent . . . always a learning experience

Typically for Lent, I try to give up something (usually related to the senses--mine can use constant mortification), add something (usually a neglected spiritual practice), and do something together with my husband (either a sacrifice or addition). 

This was a pattern I began in college when my best friend and roommate, Therese, and I would be accountability partners during this time of focused growth and change.  The trick was, we would each choose our own addition, we picked our "together" one in tandem, but our mortification would be told to us by the other person on Ash Wednesday.  That was tough.  Therese had a knack for knowing when I was using music to block out stresses in my life instead of turning to prayer and silence (Give up music!) or when I was applying a bit more eye-makeup as I was becoming interested in my future spouse (Give up make-up!)  I was pretty bitter about that second one.  I had 101 objections about how it was unprofessional to be teaching high school (I looked young for my age too) without a bit of make-up, etc.  She just said, "Listen to yourself.  You sound a little attached to me."  [Thanks Miss Perfect Complexion who never wears make-up in the first place!]  She was right.  And I didn't scare Larry away with my unadorned face.  I only found out much later that he actually likes when girls only wear natural make-up at most.

Usually, my biggest sacrifices during Lent have been interior--relationships put on hold, strained, or removed from my life, adjustments during pregnancy (and soon birth!), family difficulties, etc.  I find that all the other prayers and forms of fast become a true support toward my ability to handle offer up those interior struggles.  God is so good at providing the graces needed when we are sensitive to His promptings and movements within our lives.

I have also realized, that Lent is a funny thing for Catholics.  On one hand it can be intensely interior; but on the other, it is a public observance of a sacrificial season.  I think one of the biggest challenges can be to witness without offense--"Thanks for baking me these cookies, but I gave up sweets for Lent."  This article on National Catholic Register made me laugh so hard as the author recognized how real this dichotomy of joyful sacrifice can be for us.  [In fact, I really like this writer in general--great sense of humor and realism.]

Of course, you can always just pray the Litany of Humility every day, and Christ will take care of making sure you have "opportunities for practicing virtue" in your day.  He takes that prayer pretty literally.

Finally, this is my new favorite Lenten prayer.  It is from the Orthodox liturgy, and one of my students introduced me to it.

Prayer of St. Ephrem

Lord and Master of my life
Spare me from the spirit of indifference, despair
Lust for power and idle chatter.

Instead, bestow on me, your servant,
The spirit of integrity, humility, patience and love.

Yes, O Lord and King,
Let me see my own sins,
And not judge my brothers and sisters,
For you are blessed, forever and ever.  Amen

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T. S. Eliot's "The Journey of the Magi"

When my mind needs to be refreshed and stimulated all at once, I turn to poetry.  The dance of well written imagery is soothing to me, and the thoughts those images inspire are vivifying.

Many of my students object to Eliot after their initial introduction to him.  His religious images are too tense or dark for them; perhaps he touches their own conflicts, which they'd rather have smoothed away in the intellectual intrigues of the Metaphysicals or the rollicking fancies of the Romantics.  I love to use this poem to show them that Eliot always has a shadowy sort of hope in his post-baptismal poetry, even when he remains brutally honest about the struggles of living in the modern world.

Here are some (very brief!) reflections on his poem, appropriate for Epiphany today . . . the italicized words are his own.  He composed it shortly after his own baptism (a very difficult period in his life).

I like these magi; they look beat up from the journey, as Eliot describes.

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

 No fresh-faced kings with smiling servants here . . . the Magi, like us during the Advent season, have left behind a comfortable, materialistic life [There were times we regretted . . .] in favor of a pilgrimage to a new life, a new truth.  Even their companions on the journey are disloyal [running away] and unfocused [wanting their liquor and women.]  Amidst the difficulties, the worst are the voices in their own minds that wonder if eschewing the world and taking this hard path is really worth it after all.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

These images are beautiful and rich with meaning!  I'll focus your attention on a couple.  As they approach the Christ-Child, the world is temperate and thus fruitful (or potentially so).  Yet, the people there have "no information;" they are oblivious to the deeper happenings nearby.  At the same time, many of the landmarks portend dark things--the water mill is seen contending against the "darkness" and the "three trees" on the horizon portend Christ's own death on a tree with the two criminals at his side.  I also like that they find the stable "satisfactory;" they do not fall into superfluous praise or a panegyric on the irony of a god placed in a manger.  At the same time, these magi do not decide finally that "this was all folly" because the stable is merely "satisfactory" at best.  Implied may also be the sense that anything God chose for his Son must be "satisfactory" and beyond our human scale of judgement to declare otherwise.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

A true experience of God is not easily forgotten and must be shared, as the author's insistence to "set down / This" indicates here. The next reflection on the blending of Birth and Death in the same event reminds me of Donne's very different treatment of the same theme in "Upon the Annunciation and Passion Falling Upon One Day."  Christ's Birth began the sacrifice that culminated in His innocent Death.  Our own participation in the life of Christ and our initiation in Baptism grants us a re-birth in the spirit, but that re-birth is also a death to the old self and an invitation to carry Christ's cross along with Him in this life.  The Magi witnessed the Infant Christ.  Yet, this event and their ratified belief for which they now have "evidence" from a personal encounter with God has made them strangers in their own homes.  The people they shepherded previously are "alien" to them, and the magi have the insight now to see that their faith in pagan gods is desperate.  The life of a follower of Christ is often a path of rejection; in so far as we stand up for our beliefs, we may also find that "no prophet is accepted in his own country."  But here is Eliot's sense of hope . . . the author, in the final analysis, would be "glad of another death."  Whether this refers to another meeting with Christ and metaphorical death to self or to the author's final, physical death and reunion with his Maker, it is worth the cost.  If the world sees this choice as "folly," the wise men have learned that "the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength" (1 Cor 1:25).


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A Resolution for Meaning

Often on this celebration of yet another trip around the sun, we think about the ways we can add health or productivity or efficiency to our lives.  I was surprised and inspired by Pope Benedict's unusual challenge given in his homily today:

Another year is drawing to a close as we await the start of a new one: with some trepidation, with our perennial desires and expectations. Reflecting on our life experience, we are continually astonished by how ultimately short and ephemeral life is. So we often find ourselves asking: What meaning can we give to our days? What meaning, in particular, can we give to the days of toil and grief?

He does not promise an end to "toil and grief" or a longer life as a result of our new year's resolutions.  Instead, he asks us to bring meaning to the state of life in which God has placed us.  Honestly, I find this a much harder goal to make and follow than a vague promise to myself to work out more or clean that garage out for once.

Pope Benedict XVI, always applying his philosophy and theology to daily living, has several recommendations regarding how we might add meaning to our lives:

Turn to Christ.  "Man is son of a God who has entered time so as to redeem it from meaninglessness and negativity, a God who has redeemed all humanity, giving it everlasting love as a new perspective of life."  Love, thus, is the key to anxiety and brokenness.  A very holy monsignor gave our homily today at Mass.  He encouraged us to pray for ourselves, but also to pray fervently for others in this new year.  We need grace to achieve peace and to live our lives after the example of Christ.

Embrace evangelization.  Witnessing to Christ within you is not someone else's job.  Pope Benedict specified that the youth today are particularly aware of the evils of society.  They are not guarded from the ways our world is broken, and they are particularly sensitive to the despair that can come from a recognition of evil.  Families have the first priority toward showing them the hope that can be found in Christ.  If a child sees that the evils of the world only penetrate his parent's peace to a small extent because of that parent's trust in God's goodness, that child may also learn to believe that God is beyond the anxieties of the present.  He cites both the Sacraments and the formal instruction of the faith as additional practical ways to bring your child closer to Christ.

Be grateful.  The pope's final exhortation is to be grateful.  Sometimes the most prominent events from a particular year are trials rather than blessings.  Yet in so far as we can recognize that God's Providence is at work at all times in our lives, we can have a joy that abides deeper than any passion or experience can touch.  Edith Stein speaks of this phenomenon in her discussion on the passions.  She says that some people, especially people of faith, have a core that is joyful or peaceful.  They still experience normal passions: fear, anger, etc.  However, those negative passions only have a limited "reach" into the depths of the person.  A person's core can repel and overcome negative passions and reestablish equanimity in his life (or at least in the perspective he holds in relation to the events of his life.)  I've always loved St. Paul's reflections on gratitude as a prerequisite for peace:

Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.8 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. -- Philippians 4:6-9

I'll end with a final quotation from our Holy Father:

. . . we must see to it that the beauty and contemporary relevance of the faith is rediscovered, not as an isolated event, affecting some particular moment in our lives, but as a constant orientation, affecting even the simplest choices, establishing a profound unity within the person, so that he becomes just, hardworking, generous and good.

To be a united person, not fragmented and frenzied . . . to find that unity in the One God.  What a beautiful new year's resolution!  I think I'll work on ending every day with a reflection on that idea.  "Was I oriented towards Christ or towards myself today?  Despite any difficulties that I encountered, was I hardworking, generous, and good?  Did I have a spirit of gratitude or of joyful acceptance?"  And perhaps if I truly seek out those few things, the rest will follow and I will grow a bit closer to the heart of my Lord.

Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like Thine!

Read the pope's full homily here: http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/pope-gives-thanks-to-god-for-2011/#ixzz1iEsbXI1k

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