Topics I might bring up if I was trying to make conversation with Cathy over coffee...

Stuff like that.
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Hey - I apologize for not responding to emails and comments - I've been rather preoccupied lately - a lot on my mind...

• So - get this:  Obama is the first black president and the country may have to go on welfare.  How ironic.

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• There is a bobble head doll of Bishop Trautman - who will be the first to send one to Fr. Z?  You know he wants one.

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• So - the usual complaints about the travesty of World Youth Day are beginning to be raised on conservative blogs for peace.  Questions and commentary such as: What for?  Oh!  The liturgical abuses!  The nakedness!  The pope-olatry!  Why can't Michael Voris talk about sex there?  Nun's dancing?  All the old church-ladies are complaining about nothing that concerns them...  Not you Kat - I was really thinking of Alice here - you know Alice. 

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• Did you see the video of black men shooting up a bus in Philadelphia?  Then at the Wisconsin State Fair black people were attacking white people.  What up with that?

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• So Cardinal Burke and Bishop Lori address the K of C at some sort of national convention, and praise the group, but Michael Voris resigned because the Knights of Columbus aren't Catholic enough.  I wonder if Voris doesn't protest too much at times?  FYI:  Voris has Robert Redford looks - not Justin Beiber. 

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• The famine.  Somalia.  Stuff like this keeps happening - and it doesn't have to be this way. 

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• At the doctor's office the other day, the waiting room was full of Somalis.  They all had insurance cards.  I don't have health insurance so I'm self-pay - I'm fine with that.  But seeing all the Somalis, who cannot speak English with insurance cards was weird however.  Especially when my doctors ask me, 'when are you going to get insurance, so we can do more tests, treatment, etc..'  I find it so strange, because I can't afford insurance, and I don't qualify for Somali-care...  I wondered what St. Francis and his fiars would have done if they were required to have insurance?  Even the poor in this country are not really poor.  Not yet anyway.

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• I've been reading Heather King lately.  She strikes me as someone very authentic.  She seems to be  terribly popular now as well - popularity frequently is a stabilizing agent - one can find oneself part of an establishment after achieving some sort of recognition.  I think that can inhibit spontaneity at times.  It's a danger online.  Anyway - King's friendship with St. Therese is refreshing - so she will most likely be fine.

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• I've noticed how some blogs - or their authors, usually inhabit certain spaces, or rather become part of a hierarchy within their particular sub-group.  I don't want to label the groups however - especially with terms such as neo-con or something else, since labels always end up being derogatory terms used in a disagreement.  Within these sub-groups there is a sort of conformity of style and interest, as well as purpose...  I'm not sure what I'm getting at, but some sort of conformity is expected, a certain decorum, etiquette and agreement is required in order to be included or accepted by them. 

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• Anyway - I can't do that with my blog or my online presence.  I can't post for dollars or hits or comments; and never, ever for followers or 'friends'.  I never want to be popular.  I can't think of anything more restricting or uncreative.

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Gotta go - all this coffee makes me have to pee.

NY Allows Gay Marriage.

I forgot it is legal in Massachusetts too.
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The issue will be on ballot for the 2012 elections in Minnesota as well.  Momentum to legalize gay marriage is growing, and so is frustration and anger on the other side of the issue.  As everyone knows, I'm against it - gay marriage that is - so need I say more or hurl invectives and condemn everyone to hell?  I don't think so.  The fact is, laws change.
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I wonder how individuals adjusted to the novelties brought on by the French Revolution, especially as laws began to change?  We know quite a bit about that, don't we?  But what was the actual experience like?  For instance, closer to our own time - what was it like in Nazi Germany when the laws began to change?  When old people and mentally disabled people were euthanized?  Culture changed radically for the German people - just as it did for the Russian people after 1917.  There was Christian resistance of course, but the laws changed nonetheless.  I'm not saying legalizing gay marriage makes us like the Nazis or the Communists or the Jacobins, I'm just wondering out loud what it was like to live in a society where traditional morality was no longer the standard, when Christian teaching was found objectionable and obscene.
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We may find out soon enough.
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Does that mean we should lose our peace over it?  I mean our interior peace - if indeed we have that.  That interior peace comes as a result of living in union with God's will.  Trusting God, though thousands around you fall.  Seeking God above all else - seek first the kingdom of God, and all of that.  Working and doing what we must, but with detachment and without anxiety, contempt, or hatred.  Letting the dead bury their dead.  At least that is the disposition of soul I'm finding necessary to remain faithful. 
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One friend left a comment on Fr. Corapi saying: "Let it go and let him go in peace to the new phase in his career."  That is very good advice.  In his precautions, John of the Cross tells the religious soul, "Never be scandalized or astonished at anything you happen to see or learn of, endeavoring to preserve your soul in forgetfulness of all of that.  For should you desire to pay heed to things, many will seem wrong, even though you live amongst angels, because of your not understanding the nature of them."
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You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
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Of course whenever I quote John of the Cross readers object because the counsel may not apply to them in their state in life.  Nevertheless I believe there is something in John's precautions that is helpful for a soul's balance in ordering one's priorities.  For instance, in the case of the Corapi scandal - Christ's answer to Peter's curiosity regarding the apostle John and his future come to mind, "how does that concern you?  Your business is to follow me."  Like the guy or not, Corapi is responsible for his own choices and in the end has to give his own personal account to God for his conduct.  So, let the dead bury their dead.  That's pretty much my personal attitude about the gay marriage thing as well.  When they ask for my shirt, I'll give them my coat as well.
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As St. John says, "Take Lot's wife as an example, because she was troubled at the destruction of the Sodomites and turned her head to watch what was happening, God punished her by converting her into a pillar of salt.  You are thus to understand God's will: that even though you live among devils you should not turn the head of your thoughts to their affairs, but forget these things entirely and strive to keep your soul occupied purely and entirely in God, and not let the thought of this thing or that hinder you from doing so."
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How can you believe when you seek approval from men?
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Christians are not approved by the world - indeed, Christians often do not approve of one another - all the snark online verifies that much.  But how does that concern me when my job is to follow Christ?  St. Seraphim Sarovsky assures us, "Keep yourself in peace and thousands around you will be saved."  So there you have it - that is what I understand by the words, let the dead bury their dead.  It is in reality a going out of sorts - outside the city gates, bearing the insult Christ bore.  For here we have no lasting city; we are seeking one which is to come.  Through him let us continually offer God a sacrifice of praise, that is the fruit of lips which acknowledge his name.  Our life is hidden with Christ in God and I need to fix my eyes on him, who inspires and perfects my faith.
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Right now, that is what I need to do - let the dead bury their dead.

God alone.

Forgetting all else...
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When I first returned to the Church, many years ago now, I remember attending my first Mass at the most traditional church in town.  My friends and I looked like hippies, long hair, beards, dressed in torn jeans, t-shirts and trinkets and amulets.  I was so intent upon attending Mass I made my friends sit in the second or third row from the front.  I was completely oblivious as to who else was there or how people were dressed, whether I fit in or not.  I had recently become captivated with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament - my eyes were fixed, as it were, my heart burned. That day I went to communion, again oblivious to my surroundings and the people who were there.  I was instantly convinced and understood that Jesus was truly and really present in the Eucharist.
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The next day I immediately began to go to daily Mass, and spent as much time as possible with the Blessed Sacrament in prayer.  It seems to me all of my attention was upon Jesus.  I never paid much attention to the priest, except as needed for confession, nor the people who attended Mass.  I never involved myself in Church affairs, church gossip, criticism of priests or bishops or the way Mass was said, or anything like that.  Nothing else mattered to me - I could easily recollect myself in the presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.  I was like that for a long, long time.
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And then I wrecked everything by trying to become a monk and getting involved in the controversies that infect the Church and religious life and the laity.
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I keep trying to figure out how to return to my early love...  to let the dead bury their dead. 

More on 45 million Americans are nuts and other random thoughts...

Virtual insanity...
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I think the 45 mil stat is real BTW. 
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Especially after this past week.  Friends, I hate online fights, okay?  Right or wrong - I hate it when the combox turns into a freak show.  Sorry - it's just me, not you.  Yes I like crazy but sometimes it gets too nuts. 
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Sometimes 'true' stories destroy reputations - forever.
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Several years ago a guy I worked with told me about a priest who once put the make on him - the guy told the bishop but the bishop didn't really do anything except send him away to get a Phd..  The priest has some prominence these days.  It bugged me all of these years - because whenever I heard the priest's name I wanted to say, 'Hey!  Hey!  He's, he's...!'  What?  You see, I can't say anything because "I don't really know, do I?  He never hit on me."  The story stuck with me however, and bothered me.  I never got any relief whatsoever until I began to pray for the priest every day - pray earnestly for him as if he was my favorite priest in the world.  The upshot is, I'm pretty much over my issue with the guy - he is not my responsibility.
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Religious people (we, us, you and me) can be worse than devils.  I worked at a gossipy little religious gift store a few years ago, where the most Catholic people in town worked and shopped.  One day speaking with a priest about a religious group in town, Father told me he didn't trust them because he saw them separating the donations they received for the poor and took the best for themselves.  I never forgot it.  Every time I hear about them the first thought that pops into my head is that they are dishonest - despite the fact they seem to do wonderful work.  I only mention it so that you will get my point about how a negative comment lodges in one's memory.  (I know - I'm as guilty as the priest who told me.)
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Around the same time I heard a story about a bishop and some questionable practices with religious groups he gave his imprimatur to.  I never forgot that story either.  Every time he is in the news - I think of his past mistakes and question his authenticity and authority.  (If you've read this blog for a long time, you have probably come across this stuff before.)
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Truth be told.
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Repeating the same story and defending one's right to do so, over and over, is like beating a dead dog.  We already shot the dog when we first posted the story - we made sure it was dead the second time when we backed it up with outside testimony.  We keep shooting it with every follow-up comment.  That dog has been dead for quite sometime.  We told 'our truth' for whatever reason the first time - so just leave it alone.  The damage is done.  It's out there and some other person will pick it up and tell it again.
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I gotta do something else.
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I have to do something about my participation in all of this however.  I keep trying, but I keep failing.  What motivates me?  Sometimes I don't really know.  People who come from similar backgrounds such as my own frequently battle issues connected with trust and respect for authority.  When authority is misused or abused we tend to get angry about it - we see it as an injustice.  We dislike liars and hypocrites - yet truth be told, upon close examination of conscience, we are not sinless either.  Well, I can't speak for anyone else, so let me be clear and simply affirm, I am not sinless either.
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Every one's life is difficult - unless you're on heavy meds - which apparently 45 million Americans are.  So in reality, this is really what is insane:  Doped up people thinking they are normal.
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Art:  Magritte

Those men in the back of the church.

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I believe it was early spring when I first noticed him at the back of church as I came in for confession.  He had shoulder length dark hair, glasses, a beard, and was dressed in a denim shirt - tails hanging out over his tattered, but clean jeans.  He had on hiking boots and carried a large leather bag.  He was kneeling, hunched over in prayer, oblivious to anyone around him.  Every Saturday afternoon since I have seen him in the same spot, sometimes venturing forward to kneel in prayer at Our Lady's altar.
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Once in awhile I'll nod to him and he nods back.  Early on, one of the adoration ladies called my attention to him, "Did you see that scruffy kid?"  But that was just the way she referred to him - she wasn't being disrespectful.  "He looks really clean," she added.  "I wonder what his story is?"  And sure enough, Dorothy went up to talk to him to make him feel welcomed, and gave him some devotional literature.  The next week she gave him a rosary and taught him how to pray it.  I notice he now goes to Communion.
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He still dresses in the same clothes, jeans and denim shirt, worn boots, although a couple of weeks ago he cut his hair and isn't always carrying his knapsack.  Instead of nodding to him, I now give him a small wave and he waves back in recognition.  I don't know his name.
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There is another guy at the same Mass - he's the one who told me he is a recovering alcoholic.  He wears a Hawaiian shirt, jeans and beat up sports shoes.  He waves to me now and then, just before Mass.  I see him with an old lady whom I assume is his mom.  He goes to confession on a regular basis.  He's very simple and kind.
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Then there is this really fat guy - I think he buys his clothes from a direct mail company like "King Size" - or maybe not.  But he wears huge polo-type shirts that could function as a dress for a plus-sized woman, and though he doesn't wear real jeans, he does wear a sort of jersey-denim, undecorated rumpled sport pant, and again, well worn sports shoes.  He has trouble walking, but that doesn't stop him from doing the collection, panting and gasping for air as he does so.  He's usually unshaven, or badly shaved.   For several years he would ignore me, but then one day he actually smiled and nodded when I said hello.  It made me feel good. 
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Repent.

Banal theories...

A post with no headers or subdivisions or links to what I'm talking about.
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I posted this clip a couple of days back and then pulled it thinking I'd use it another day when there is nothing to blog about.  But like Andre in the film - I just keep talking and talking so I always have something to write about.  Banal theories - love that line.  I have a lot of them, as well as pointless stories.
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Although this morning I'm sad over a number of things, some of which I can't control.
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The oil spill/leak in the Gulf for instance. What a terrible disaster, it affects people, wild life, industry - the ecology: mercy, mercy, mercy me. Seriously!  I see the photos, it is a disaster and it will only get worse.  It makes me sad.
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The immigrant problem. I am apolitical about the issue - I can empathize with both sides, but my sympathy is with the poor men, women and children who struggle. I see souls. Souls who need salvation - like me and you. So I pray to Our Lady of Guadalupe, San Jose, and San Toribio. Minneapolis has a very large Latino community - I love Latino people and pray for them - I'm especially concerned they remain Catholic.  Actually, that is my greatest concern.
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Banal theories - I told you I love that line. I suppose I have a lot of them - and so it seems other bloggers do as well.   Blogging is like My Dinner With Andre in some ways - forgettable diatribes about nonsense - today everything seems like nonsense to me.  Today is one of those days I wonder, "Is the world nuts or is it just me?"  (Note to crazy people, forgive me for using the "nuts" word.)
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I read a post last night by a priest sort of warning about charismatic founders of new religious communities - and I thought, "I write about these things quite frequently, yet people always get annoyed with me and think I'm criticizing them."   (Honesty is often perceived as cruelty by the effeminate.)
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"But you are crippled Blanche, you are!"  Baby Jane told her sister.
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And so yes - maybe I was writing about them - but criticizing them?  Not so much.  Pointing out that they are crippled?  A little bit.  We all are in some way.  So I wonder if Father was doing that too?  (Now I do sound crazy, don't I.  Well maybe I am Kathy Bates.)
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People criticize me all of the time of course - because "I'm out there, George!  I'm out there!"  They seem to criticize me precisely because I'll point out a few things just as Father does in his post.  So what?  We all make mistakes and it's good to know we are all quite fallible.  It just makes me sad when we pretend we are something we are not.  This probably makes no sense, I know.
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As my regular readers know, I'm sometimes sad about church people - I don't want to get too involved with them.  Recently someone asked me if I wanted to gather some information for the Church - I can't say on what, where, or whom.  I thought about it.  I would be acting "undercover", infiltrating a group, spying.  I just kept thinking, "That's what Judas and the scribes and pharisees did."  I got this creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach.  If something seems bad - it is - follow your gut.  When you sense something is wrong - something is wrong.  But good or bad, I can't do it.  That is not part of my religion.  No offense to my friend who suggested the plot to me.
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The other day, I was reading something from Garrigou-Lagrange and came across a bit of paper I used for a bookmark.  It was a newspaper clipping from several years ago now.  A church lady friend cut out the news story, neatly pasted it on a recipe card with a note explaining when the item appeared in the papers.  She had informed me about the case earlier but I told her I didn't believe it could be true and did not want to discuss it.  To prove to me it was, she gave me the news article which detailed how a married man had been convicted of a crime.  The man in question was a highly respectable member of the local Church, quite active, a third order member, a founder of a religious community, known for his devotion, happily married, and so on.  He did something naughty with a client.
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While it is true I never liked the guy, he was sort of a traditional snob, very proud of his academic achievements, and terribly knowledgeable about liturgy - no English translations for him;  I always treated him with respect and kindness.  In other words, I was friendly and helpful towards him when he asked for a favor - I even did some art work for him gratis.  I did my best to avoid talking about him, although the church lady must have known somehow I wasn't fond of him, which is why I imagine she gave me the news clipping.  Rather than turn me against him completely, his public failing helped improve my attitude towards him.  Despite the fact the entire town knew about his crime - he never changed his mode of life.  He remained as devout and faithful as ever, although he seemed much less officious when dealing with inferiors.  He seemed more down to earth.  I admired him for that. 
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Why do I tell this story?  The man is dead now - when I heard his story I was much younger - and he the same age I am today.  (I thought he was so old that such a crime would be impossible for a man his age.  The Devil laughs at youth.)  Anyway - it was a good lesson for me.  For me it demonstrated first hand what happens when a person, motivated by personal antipathy, even envy, attempts to dig up dirt on another person, exposing their faults, in order to discredit them or turn others against them.  It's creepy isn't it - the fact that we keep going over the same lesson plan until we get it right I mean.  I'll bet this fellow struggled all of his life with these issues.  God allows us to fall that we may become humble and charitable.
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Not infrequently things which bother us in others sometimes reveal more about ourselves than it does the other person.  What annoys us in others often enough is mirroring what we ourselves are guilty of, or in other words, exposes the log in our own eye.  So like when Baby Jane told Blanche the truth, that she was crippled, Blanche might have responded, "And you're mental and your make-up is hideous!"  Does that make sense?
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No, of course it doesn't.  Finish your dinner.
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Anyway, I'm still sad.  Blogging is like My Dinner With Andre - a lot of banal theories and hot air - and like the film, very forgettable.  Although I'd like to see a remake of the film, only this time they would be drinking heavily.
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Icon source and meaning.

And for my next project...

Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.
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Actually, I think I'm going to try my hand at allegories - and maybe a rabbit or two.  Painting that is.  I couldn't sleep last night so I was painting in my mind - I think I will attempt a couple of panels on Teresa's Interior Castle.
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Thought for the day:
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We are all going to die.
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You may quote me on that.

Bad boys of art.

"Bad, bad, bad boys, make me feel so good..."
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I have to admit I don't know a great deal about the personal lives of famous masters of art, except for a couple of the bad boys.  I was only interested in art-works and technique - from which I learned more about art than knowing the intimate details of an artist's life.  A well known artist in Boston once told me, "Follow the brush strokes - they will teach you everything."  He himself said he learned more by closely studying a painting of the early masters than by anything he learned in art school.
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I've been pondering the idea of the necessity of being in the state of grace to paint worthily images of the saints and heavenly things.  Most people know of Fra Angelico, whose name in religion is Fra Giovanni da Fiesole of the Dominican Order, who left a great treasure trove of work to the Roman Church.  Ven. John Paul II declared him blessed supposedly explaining his body of work was miracle enough to warrant the beatification - thus confirming why the friar came to be known as 'Angelic'.  His work is truly amazing in it's vivid, nearly heavenly colors, his figures chaste and beautiful, his angels awesome, his composition simple and without sentimentality - full of truth and beauty.  One could go on and on.  Being a friar in a convent must have been a great support to his life of holiness and 'ecstatic' painting.
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However, monastic life didn't help Fra Lippi much.  It is said he was more or less coerced into becoming a Carmelite when he was sixteen or so, wherein he learned to paint and accomplished fame.  As chaplain to the Margherita in Prato he seduced one of the nuns who posed for him, took her home and kept her.  (Artists love to collect pretty things.)  The Medici's arranged the necessary laicizations and the couple married and had a son.  It all sounds rather modern, doesn't it.  Lippi produced a son, who also became a well known painter by the name of Lippi - Filippino, or 'little Philip' - a much more sentimental painter, like Boticelli, who seems to me the Nicole Kidman of artists.  (Sentimental, cosmetically beautified, mythologized and over-romanced.)
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Lorenzo Monaco - which translates Lawrence the Monk, since the artist lived for a time as a Camaldolese, wasn't probably such a bad boy - although he left the monastery - again, a fairly modern experience.  His real name is Piero di Giovanni.  I prefer his work to that of Fra Angelico.
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I suppose the award for the worst bad boy has to go to Caravaggio.  Hot tempered, kind of a drunk, disrespectful, promiscuous, he even killed someone I think.  He fled the authorities, was bailed out by the pope, but died in poverty.  He was a rough guy.  His work startled his contemporaries, many of whom felt they were immoral and reflected his own immorality.  Today we call them masterpieces.
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Now days much ado is made about iconographers fasting and praying before and during their icon 'writing'.  Some people think only monks or nuns can 'write' an icon.  The rules set forth can sound almost cultish the way some folks explain it.  Truth be told, icons have always been painted by men (more recently women) very similar in character to the great (or not so great) Western artists.  Today, as in days past, many 'real' icons are produced in workshops, and not by monks or nuns.  The human tendency is to place our heroes or models - in this case, iconographers, on pedestals.  Truth is, only artists can do that with the proper perspective, that is, they pose their subject to match an ideal of perfection - and quite often their interior life may not be as good as their work.  (Note: My 'schism' comment removed because it was dumb.)
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I think the reason so many Latin rite faithful have fallen in love with Orthodox icons is due to the fact the Western Church went through a severe period of iconoclasm shortly after the Council.  The faithful longed for truth and beauty, and they were forced to seek it elsewhere.
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Art:  Lorenzo Monaco: The Meeting between Saint James the Major and Hermogenes.  If people are going to be beatified based on their portfolio, I would think Monaco could be.
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Oh.  Did you know Andy Warhol went to Mass almost every day?