March 2009 Archives
We're in the fading days of Lent. It's time to get ready for Holy Week (starting Sunday with Palm Sunday).
Next Friday is Good Friday, the day when Christ was slain. As a kid, I remember that there was a whole string of years where Good Friday was just an awful weather day. It was always cold and rainy and just sort of gloomy. A coincidence, I'm sure--but it sure seemed like God was pounding a lesson into my little head. Good Friday is a peculiar name for a day, isn't it? I mean yeah, it was good for mankind that Our Lord and Savior gave his life for all of humanity... but it was a pretty bad day for Jesus. Perhaps there's something in the name "Good Friday" that I don't know about; I don't even know what it's called in Latin. But from my English-Language-toned ears, it's an unfortunate moniker.
I'm really looking forward to Easter. Maybe I'm just looking forward to being finished with Lent? I can't really tell. In either way, let's bring it on!
That weekend is also another event. One that, frankly, has meant more to me over the course of my life than Easter. It's opening weekend for baseball season!
Was that an eye roll?
Hey, I didn't always try to be a very good Catholic. That's a fairly recent development. (Please note that I said that I'm trying to be a good Catholic. I don't trust anyone who says they are a good Catholic. Such a thing is impossible.)
Anyway, baseball's Opening Day coincides with Good Friday this year. It's an unfortunate occurrence, but it's the cards we're dealt this year.
The truth is that there are lots of calendars in the world and sometimes they don't line up how we want. Like when Christmas falls on a Wednesday, so there's that weird Monday-or-Friday arrangement at work where you've got to go in one day between 2-day breaks... for those people lucky enough to have a day off before or after Christmas!
On Good Friday, there is a particular moment of the day that is known as the "Holy Hours" where tradition holds that Jesus specifically hung on the Cross. Holy Hours are from Noon to 3:00 PM; a number of churches hold their Good Friday service at that time. Good Friday is the only day of the year where the Church does not offer the Mass. It's a specific liturgical service, but not Holy Mass.
This year, the Detroit Tigers are the first team to play ball when they host the Texas Rangers at 1:05 in glittering Detroit Michigan. Right smack in the middle of Holy Hours. For some people, scheduling the game during Holy Hours "is an insult for Catholics". Frankly, in all my fuddy-duddy crankiness, I can't muster up enough gumption to agree. There are far many greater insults to the Faith than a baseball game, though I think it's in poor taste (and a strange decision) to schedule Opening Weekend on Easter Weekend. Even people who are not traditionalist cranks like myself know that Easter is an important day in the calendar. People who are very casual Christians still go to church on Easter, they go to their mothers' house and have dinner, they send their kids out in the long-respected tradition of eating chicken-shaped-marshmallows.
I wonder what turnout is going to be like on the Sunday day-games at the park? I guess it'll be a good day to be an Atheist/Jewish/Muslim baseball fan, you should get the place to yourselves. Is this just turnaround for Christian Family Day at the ballpark?
I don't mean to be ridiculous on this topic, because I willingly accept that we live in a secular world with secular demands. Such is life--and it's always been that way. As Christians, we follow Christ's example to be in the world, but not of the world. Gentle reader, apparently the world plays baseball during the Easter Triduum. They've got a business to run and I guess they don't think that it's going to be a problem.
This situation isn't unique to Catholics in 2009. Sports and Religion end up on the same calendar from time to time. Perhaps the most famous example was Sandy Koufax, the premier Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher during the 1960's. He was the ace of the team and the most valuable player on the staff. In 1965, the Dodgers climbed tooth-and-nail to the World Series, led largely by the left-arm of Koufax. If you're not a baseball fan, let me explain it this way: for players, the World Series is the most important achievement of your professional career. Most players will play for their entire career and never get to play in that short match. As a kid, you dream about it. As a young man, you pine for it. As a professional, it becomes your singular goal. There's nothing more important than the World Series. In 1965, Koufax was pitching at the top of his game. That year, he posted a nearly superhuman Earned Run Average of 2.04 and was credited as winning 26 games; he pitched 335 innings and struck out 382 batters. There was no doubt that Koufax would the #1 starting pitcher on the first game of the World Series. If he was Catholic, this season would count as one of the miracles required for his canonization.
But Koufax was not Catholic. Koufax is Jewish. And game one of the 1965 World Series fell on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year in the Jewish Calendar.
Back then, Koufax was considered to be a "three day Jew" who only went to synagogue on a couple of times of year (the Christian equivalent is the "Creaster" who joins us only when their mother demands it). But Yom Kippur was one of those days with which you did not tinker. Sandy Koufax, the greatest pitcher of his era, the most valuable player on his team, quietly announced that he would not take the pitcher's mound on Yom Kippur. It was the holiest day of the year, and with that, he would not play.
Baseball fans who didn't know two Jews in their whole lives suddenly had a profound understanding of the seriousness of Yom Kippur.
1965 was not all that different than 2009. Then, as now, the secular world was shedding themselves of religion. It was a modern era. It is a modern era. People were telling themselves that they were too evolved to believe in rules of organized religion. People are telling themselves the same thing today: such is life in the world.
This year, the baseball season is beginning during the holiest days of the Christian calendar. Opening day on Good Friday is one of those events with which I will not tinker. It is not specifically the holiest day of the Christian calendar. That day happens on Easter. But Good Friday is a solemn moment in the year, the saddest day and the beginning of Christ's Glory. It is because of this day that St. Paul commands that we preach Christ crucified!
And because Christ was crucified on Good Friday, I'm not going to partake in baseball's festivities. I'll fulfill my work obligation, then skitter off to Church to be with Jesus in his last hours. Good Friday is not a Holy Day of Obligation (but it should be... at least in a unique non-Mass kind of way), so Catholics are not bound to go to Church. But it is entirely unfitting for a Catholic to go to the ballpark on that day.
I wonder if Catholic ballplayers--and there are many--will sit out opening day this year? Probably very few. In my opinion, it is excusable for a professional ballplayer to play ball on Good Friday. They're just going to work in the same way that I'm going to work--to fulfill my obligations to my job. It is less excusable for Catholics--indeed, Christians--who will go to that game and party it up on this solemn day.
To me, it's not sad that baseball has a game scheduled for that day. Such is life in a secular world. I'm just sad to know that everyone's going to the game. Is nothing sacred?
Or maybe these games are sacred events too? We call the stadia "Cathedrals of Baseball", right? The first words of the Bible are "In the big inning".
Ha. The jokes seem a little hollow this year.
Play ball. And Christe Eleison.
Last year, I spent a little time musing on Springtime as a metaphor for the Church. It's a common metaphor: since springtime is a time of growth and renewal, the idea of a springtime in Catholicism is appealing.
But as we become more and more isolated from the outside world, I think we lose touch with what's actually happening in the grass and flower beds outside.
When Mrs. WRC and I bought our house nearly 3 years ago, we planted a bunch of daffodil bulbs in the flower bed right in front of the house. They were sort of an impulse purchase at the time; we were walking through Sam's Club in early Autumn and I saw a small gunnysack with a photo of bright yellow Narcissus blooms on the front. Thinking that I'd like to kind of pretty-up our house, I picked it up. Our front door has a little area next to the driveway for having a little flower bed or something, we've also got some holly plants and some dead chrysanthemums from last year in that area. That area used to have some of those big red paving bricks in it; some previous residents kept a large chiminea out there with some lawn chairs. They'd sit there and watch their kid play in the street. When we moved in, I got rid of the pavers and tried to turn that area into a planter--but the dirt was so full of sand that the soil isn't the best growing-material ever. I've supplemented that area with compost to enrich it a little--but it's still a bit anemic. The compost thing; that's another whole deal altogether. I like composting because it has direct benefits for our gardens; I also like the idea of keeping perfectly acceptable natural waste out of the landfill or sewer systems. But a compost bin isn't magical, you've got to turn it, be mindful of composition (and decomposition!), moisture and temperature levels... it's definitely something that comes at a price. But I digress.
If you're a grower like me, we're coming up on our busy time. We've already put down one nitrogen application in the yard, as well as a late re-seeding of some thin areas in the grass. Some of my neighbors have already mowed their lawn once or twice, I'm due but holding off a little longer until the re-seeded areas get a little stronger. It's time to go around with the trimmer and tidy up the edges. We're a few weeks away from a broadleaf treatment to keep the dandelions from overrunning the yard. I also fight a pretty constant battle with the clover that consumes my backyard.
Oh, and I'm running behind on the vegetable garden. We just had a one-day blizzard move through over the weekend, so I guess it's good that I didn't have too much in the ground already--but it's time to get the peas in the ground and whatever lettuce/leafy crops we're going to plant. But the soil is too wet to work very thoroughly--when the ground is muddy, you just tear up the structure of the soil and make clay mudclods instead of loosely tilled soil. So I've got to wait a little bit for the earth to dry out--and hope that it happens in time to get the early crops started! Such is the dance of springtime.
Such as it is with Lent. The word "Lent" is actually the Old English word for "spring". Fun fact: people who speak languages other than English call this season by its Latin name "quadragesima" (or a local variation of that word) that means "the forty days". But I like the English term better. (does this make me a fan of vernacularization in the Church? Hmm...) I like the reference to spring better because springtime isn't just automatic: it's a darned lot of work! Yes, the trees bloom on their own and the grass wakes up from its dormition with every lengthening day--but with those rites of spring comes springtime's natural enemies. Late snows or an unexpected frost will lay waste to the purple blooms on your redbud trees; that crabgrass that is taking hold right now will choke out your yard; the chickweed is going to get under your roses here before you know it. Springtime is a time of work. It's a time of plowing, a time of digging and planting, a time of racing against the rains and the snows and the still-too-short days.
Such as it is with Lent. Here we are, 5 weeks in--and I'm getting kind of sick of this season of Lent. Which is the point, actually. Lent is a time for tearing down and losing our little comforts. It's about doing things that we don't ordinarily do and giving up things of which we'd ordinarily indulge. It's a time of spiritual weeding and theological plowing and ethereal cultivating. Sanctification, like springtime, doesn't happen on its own. It's hard work and long hours; it makes your heart ache and your back hurt. I'm totally ready for a bacon cheeseburger. I walked by the sample-guy in the grocery store yesterday--the very same place where I broke my Lenten resolution on the first week. He was back again with little sausages skewered on little toothpicks looking all delicious and awesome and free for the taking. Oh temptation! I love little sausages. But it is not time yet and man cannot live on sausages alone (though this man would like to try for a while). For a fruitful garden, we can't just give up when the weeds seem too thick--such it is with Lent.
Our daffodils are doing fine, by the way. They're still the same bulbs that we planted two and a half years ago, I've never dug them up for transplant or anything. I've even cut a couple dozen blooms this year--and they brighten our living room with their big proud yellow trumpets. A dozen or so other blooms seem to have survived that blast of snow and winter that came and went over the weekend. They've even grown up through the chrysanthemum corpses that line the front edge of the flower bed. It's nice. They are my small encouragements to get outside and clean up the rest of the yard. They remind me that springtime is coming whether I like it or not, so get to work before it's too late. Get the ground ready for the bright petunias and the vegetable garden and that the grass needs to have the winter leaves pulled out of the corners of the fence. There's work to be done.
This new springtime isn't going to happen on its own.
I don't usually talk about politics on this site. That's partly because I've been in a state of politics-burnout for the last 4 or 5 years and partly because religious politics are so over-covered in other people's blogs.
Sometimes though, religion and politics cross paths in a way that catches my mind for a little bit.
There's an important and compelling story in the news right now regarding the premier Catholic university in America, Notre Dame. The University has invited President Barack Obama to deliver this year's commencement speech; Notre Dame will also confer upon him an honorary Doctorate. This is a pretty typical occurrence in colleges, of course. The president always gets to deliver a graduation address or two; it's quite an honor for a college to be visited by the President of the United States.
The problem is that President Obama's well-known pro-abortion stance is speaking at the premier Catholic university in America-- and the Catholic Church is unequivocally and undeniably pro-life.
It's a big deal.
Catholics must be undeniably pro-life. I don't want to over-simplify this, but it's not really a matter of debate. Oh, sure, some people will debate this or try to turn it into a complicated theological discussion of when does God impart a soul to a human--but seriously. It's not an open question. Rome has spoken, the cause is finished. Further, when matters of morality intersect with political decisions, Catholics need to vote according to Catholic senses of morality. This is not the same as the Church endorsing any particular candidate--please do not be confused about that. But moral religions instruct their followers to uphold a moral code; affecting behavior is intrinsic to religion. And while the Republican Party seems to be the official party of Christian voters, it hasn't always been that way. In fact, Catholics have a tendency to vote Democrat in presidential elections. 
Still, the Church does not endorse candidates, she promotes issues for voting with consciences--and if certain candidates fall on the wrong side of that issue, the Church needs to speak up about the subject. During the 2008 Presidential, hometown Bishop Robert Finn (of the Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph) even went as far as saying that people who voted for Barack Obama jeopardized their eternal salvation. The matter was not his Democraticness, it was his affinity for abortion that was the issue at hand. If both candidates were pro-life, or if both candidates were not pro-life, the Church wouldn't have much to say on the subject. Further, it is my opinion that, considering that the Democratic Party often speaks in the rhetoric of human rights, if the Democratic Party were to front a pro-life candidate, that candidate would be extremely appealing to the Catholic hierarchy.
But that's not our status quo.
Instead, we've got the most pro-babykilling President since Roe v Wade. And since the The Catholic Church is a Pro-Life Church, it is absolutely incongruent that the premier Catholic College in America is inviting President Obama to give their graduation address. It's not a matter of Separation of Church and State. A commencement speech is a representation of what a school hopes for their students--and there's a lot to like about the President... if you can take abortion out of the picture. Unfortunately, you cannot.
But the Catholic university's administration doesn't seem to be interested in upholding this piece of Catholic teaching. Furthermore, they don't seem to be very interested in listening to what their student's say about the subject either. In fact, a number of student groups are protesting the President's appearance on campus, including:
Notre Dame Right to Life
The Irish Rover Student Newspaper
Notre Dame College Republicans
The University of Notre Dame Anscombe Society
Notre Dame Identity Project
Militia of the Immaculata
Children of Mary
Orestes Brownson Council
Notre Dame Law School Right to Life
Notre Dame Law St Thomas More Society
In their combined response, they say
In defense of the unborn, we wish to express our deepest opposition to Reverend John I. Jenkins, C.S.C.'s invitation of President Barack Obama to be the University of Notre Dame's principal commencement speaker and the recipient of an honorary degree. Our objection is not a matter of political partisanship, but of President Obama's hostility to the Catholic Church's teachings on the sanctity of human life at its earliest stages. His recent dedication of federal funds to overseas abortions and to embryonic stem cell research will directly result in the deaths of thousands of innocent human beings. We cannot sit by idly while the University honors someone who believes that an entire class of human beings is undeserving of the most basic of all legal rights, the right to live.The University's decision runs counter to the policy of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops against honoring pro-choice politicians. In their June 2004 statement Catholics in Political Life, the bishops said, "The Catholic community and Catholic institutions should not honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles. They should not be given awards, honors, or platforms which would suggest support for their actions." Fr. Jenkins defends his invitation by saying that it does not honor or suggest support for the President's views on abortion, but rather support for his leadership. But our "fundamental moral principles" must be respected at all times. And the principle that requires us to refrain from the direct killing of the innocent has a special status even among the most fundamental principles. President Obama's actions have consistently shown contempt for this principle, and he has sought political gain by making light of its clear political implications.
Their opinion is clear.
Who else's opinion is clear? His Excellency, Bishop John D'Arcy, the ordinary of Fort Wayne-South Bend where Notre Dame is located, whose statement says:
"the measure of any Catholic institution is not only what it stands for, but also what it will not stand for."Indeed. Bishop D'Arcy will be skipping the event; the local bishop would usually be one of the highest dignitaries at Notre Dame's commencement.
What is the point of a Catholic school if they're not there to promote Catholic living? Catholic teaching? Catholic morality? There are many fine public and secular private institutions in the United States--why go through the bother of having a Catholic school if they're going to give their pulpit to a man who so adamantly against this item of Catholic principles? It's not like abortion is some piddley little issue. It's one of the central issues in Catholic living. You know, the living part.
What can you do? Sign the petition to the Notre Dame University President at http://www.notredamescandal.com/ and let Fr. John Jenkins, C.S.C. know that you're disappointed that Notre Dame is abandoning their Catholicism for the prestige of hosting President Obama. Just whom are they really serving?
But petitions aside, if you're the kind of person to add a personal touch, you might drop the university President a letter.
President, University of Notre Dame
400 Main Building
Notre Dame, IN 46556
There will also be a number of on-campus protests that weekend.
What do you expect out of your Catholic schools? Authentic Catholic teaching? Upholding real Catholic principles? People living in accordance with the Catholic Faith?
http://www.notredamescandal.com/
Our Lady, Notre Dame, pray for us!
I am losing my battle against the clock, but I wanted to pop in with a quick update.
Today is the feast of the Annunciation; it's the day when Mary's fiat declared that she would do as God wills it done to her. Today is the day that changed the world; the day that would open the gates of Heaven for all of Salvation History.
(click that photo for a larger-sized image of the DaVinci masterpiece)
Blessed Virgin Mary, mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
I hope you're having a fruitful and blessed Lent.
A friend of mine at work has alerted me to today's Feast Day. It's not exactly on the Roman or Orthodox calendars--but it is on the calendars of ornery Minnesotans and milk-drinking Finns.
In honor of the Finnish and Irish traditions, the official colors for St. Urho's Day are purple and green.
Finnish wine is not known as the finest estates of Europe. In fact: 
So while you're going about your tasks today, if you hear someone yell "Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, meine täättä hiiteen", you'll know to raise a glass of Finnish wine in toast to Northern Minnesotans 'the world around. You're on your own for correct pronunciation if you'd like to propose the cheer first. And if you do, drop me a line in the comments box about how it went.
First, a recap of my resolutions:
(I first starting realizing how diet affected energy after reading 
He said that we were going to talk about one of their pizzas, but we weren't going to order it, because it was made with 2 different kinds of pork sausage and that, as a Jewish guy, he didn't eat pork. I commented that there weren't a lot of people that kept Kosher laws anymore, and that most of the Jewish people I knew in college were bacon-cheeseburger eaters. Then he explained: now we think that a lot of the Kosher laws came from pretty practical roots: before modern sanitation or refrigeration, a lot of now-common foods were kind of rare. And handling them could get kind of dangerous, because of the way that animals were slaughtered and their meat preserved made people pretty susceptible to foodborne diseases that could kill; even today, pork and shellfish can get contaminated or compromised pretty easily. But if Kosher laws started as a way to prevent trichinosis, today, they do a way different task. He explained it as part of defining his Jewish identity, that he was asked to forgo ham as a way of setting himself apart from the rest of the world. It wasn't about pork; it wasn't about shellfish; it was about making each thing he ate a small act he did for God.
The other three items of my Lenten resolution are actually harder to do than abstinence. Adding an hour of adoration or Holy Mass per week takes some pretty serious planning; time is one of the most precious things I have. We're only given 24 hours in a day, 8 of them are used in sleeping, 8 of them are used at work, the final 8 are broken up by getting ready for work, eating, studying for school and watching college basketball. Who's got time for God?!! He'll have to wait until Sunday.
Yesterday, I had the 
I think it's interesting how much of Christian history is intertwined with sheep. From my Midwestern American point of view, sheep are curious animals. We're in cattle country and spend more time with cows than sheep; most of Western Europe seems to be the opposite. I don't know if you've ever been around sheep, but they're a strange animal. They're dumb and skittish, they spook easily and kind of hard to be around, they're also very untrusting of new people and run from people whom they do not recognize. They smell bad. So do the people that hang out with sheep. Being a shepherd isn't a very glamorous gig. You have to build up trust with the herd or else they'll run from you whenever you come near. You have to be gentle and calm with them or else you'll make the whole herd panic and run in every different direction. Sheep aren't like cattle, you can't just let them wander in the countryside. Cows just stand there; sheep will wander off cliffs. It takes a special kind of person to be a sheep rancher--it's not something I could do! You have to be gentle and firm, trustworthy and mindful. These kinds of details are lost on 21st Century Americans. Most of us have never seen a single sheep in our lives, much less a herd of sheep and even much less an actual shepherd. Sometimes I think that we've lost a lot of connection to history's context when we don't know what it means for St. Patrick to be thrown into tending sheep or when Christ Himself was called the Good Shepherd. Those were meek and humble jobs for people in the lowest levels of society.
After six years of prayer in captivity, an angel told Patrick in a dream to head to a part of the Irish coastline where he'd be rescued; he made his escape 200 miles west (an impressive feat; the widest part of Ireland is barely 200 across) when he was around 20 years old. He successfully made it back to England and reunited with his family. Patrick began studying for the priesthood and was ordained shortly thereafter. Patrick's dreams kept going back to Ireland; he'd hear the calls of children imploring him "O holy youth, come back to Erin, and walk once more amongst us!"
Along the way, Patrick was ambushed by the chieftain Dichu; Dichu raised his sword to slay the Bishop--Patrick commanded that the man's arm be still; Dichu's arm froze like stone and couldn't move until he pledged to be loyal to Patrick. When Dichu consented, he arm became heavy and loose. He dropped his sword, became a follower of Patrick and built him a great hall in Sabhall (pronounced Saul) so that people could come to hear the Gospel. It was the first church dedicated by St. Patrick In later years, that site would become a monastery and church which still exists today.
In just a few short decades, Saint Patrick singlehandedly converted the entire country to the Catholic Church. His disciple students, Beningnus, Auxilius, Iserninus, and Fiaac were themselves all canonized. The monasteries, churches and seminaries that they would found together would, in a few hundred years, export priests, monks, nuns and lay Catholics to every corner of the world.
Those Irish Catholics who fled their country for America needed a strong patron and a wise shepherd when they'd land on this foreign soil. Those Irish immigrants would find a hostile land--with xenophobia and anti-Catholic bigotry to welcome them from those oceans white with foam. These first-generation Irish would remember their patron, the man whose similar journey would turn a nation to Christ. They'd name their sons Patrick and their daughters Patricia, they'd cling to their patron like sheep follow their shepherd. And on his feast day, they'd raise a pint and cheer for the land that he saved for Christ.
Those parades that you see popping up (starting next weekend) are big parties where everyone pretends to be Irish for a day. But at the root of those parties is a different kind of hope--it celebrates that dream of Patrick to bring the world to Christ. Does that mean that everyone wants to be Catholic on St. Patrick's Day? Hehehehe. I'll spare you from my fancy ideas. But Irishmen are all born Irish. It is only by His mercy that they baptized Catholic.
March 19 is just a handful of days away. This day is the feast day of St. Joseph--the spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the foster-father to the child Jesus. He was a builder by trade. Tradition holds that he was a carpenter, but he might also have been a stonemason or something of the like. That part isn't important.
The Tables would develop into an event for the poor in the community. There is no price for the dinner, the tradition was that everyone would be accepted to the feast. But they take donations at the door, which are solely dedicated to helping the poor. Additionally, the tables take big donations of cookies, breads, pies, wines, etc. which are displayed on the table, then are sold for the poor. Many tables could also be rightly called altars, with multi-tiered displays reaching all the way to the ceiling. In Sicily and Italy (and later, Italian neighborhoods in the USA), people would go door-to-door begging alms or donations for the table--it was common to go into a shop and ask for a loaf of bread or tray of cannoli for the table, so the table was made from the gifts of the community.
A lot of Catholic churches in heavily Italian neighborhoods throw a table every year and have HUGE crowds. One of the most notable tables in beautiful Kansas City is at 
