"I'll Know My Name as It's Called Again"

If I began a sentence with "I was listening to some Christian rock and...," most people have one of two reactions. If you're one of those people that would get really excited and eager to talk about your favorite Reliant K song, I'm sorry to say I'm going to disappoint you with this post. On the other hand, if you're one of those people who says that Christian rock is for uncool, churchy kids, then I'm going to surprise you by revealing that some of the most Christian music I have ever heard is actually from a popular band.

"Jacob Wrestling with the Angel" by Rembrandt

My primary criticism of much of the popular Christian music that I've heard is that it lacks the human element. Personally, I find much of it nauseatingly upbeat and predictably appealing to my feelings (if I had any). As a result, much of it fails to wrestle with faith, as Jacob wrestled with the angel. For this generation, faith doesn't come easy, and I think it doesn't come easy for anyone. There are far too many challenges to it for it to be simply a walk in the park. Personally for me, it's a regular struggle to push past my own rational outlook on the world and seek to understand the Divine Being who is the source of all good. Therefore, simply praising and worshiping is not something I completely "get".

Whether you have this same conflict as I do or not, everyone has their own reasons to struggle with faith. It might not be perpetual, though. Often times, it's a thing that works in a cycle: you find an inspiration to your faith, you cultivate and treasure it. Then, when you're feeling strong on your feet, you forget what go you there, which is why you fall flat on your face soon after. But ultimately, the true Christian will arise once more and fight his way back to faith and this time, in an effort to keep it.

Therefore, the Christian rock that is going to popularly engage this generation of people is going to appeal to this seemingly contradictory notion of zealously high aspirations for our faith, frustration and anxiety at our repeated failures, and a committed conversion back to our faith in God. The band I have in mind, then, is none other than Mumford & Sons, and more specifically, their album, "Sigh No More".

Mumford & Sons

The album contains more Christian themes than I myself understand, and yet it maintains a firm grounding in the human person, with all of our struggles and trials. Anyone who is truly a Christian knows that it takes hard work to be one. If you don't feel like your sweating blood sometimes, just to keep your faith, then I would say you're not a Christian: your faith is not being tested, you are not truly following the path of Christ in suffering and sorrow. It is a constant struggle, one in which we occasionally, or even frequently fail to meet. But the hallmark of such an epic fight for our souls is to dust off and try again.

It all begins with the statement: "Serve God, love me, and mend". (Sigh No More) Service to God, love others, and then take care of yourself. This, of course, is none other than the Golden Rule, learned from Jesus Christ. Our lives belong to God and it is through our interaction with others that we can show our affection for God, by keeping his commandment first with the people around us and then with ourselves. The song continues with a statement so hopeful, I must reproduce it here in its entirety:

Love; it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be

First, Love is what sets us free, and as God is caritas, the highest, ultimate form of love, that voluntary servitude towards God and others will paradoxically give us freedom, not take it away. It is in this choice of service that we demonstrate that we are free to do so. The third line suggests that to love like this is Man's true purpose, which is confirmed in the second song of the album, The Cave. The desire for freedom is once more urgently desired, "Cause I need freedom now, and I need to know how, to live my life as it's meant to be." (The Cave) The imagery of the song makes unmistakeable references to Homer's The Odyssey, in which the homeward hero, Odysseus, instructs his crew to tie him to the mast of the ship as they passed by the island of the deadly Sirens, temptresses of the sea who draw sailors to their deaths on the rocky island shores. The song draws on this desire to resist their temptuous call, even taunting the sirens with the lines, "The harvest left no food for you to eat. You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see, but I have seen the same, I know the shame in your defeat," (The Cave) for it was believed that the Sirens were cannibalistic. The third song of "Sigh No More", Winter Winds, speaks further of this same hope, reminding us that "remember spring swaps snow for leaves, you'll be happy and wholesome again, when the city clears and sun ascends." (Winter Winds) Hope that is a sure mark of the Christian, for while the rest of the world despairs in its damnation, this soul understands that he was made to be united with God and He will deliver him.

Ulysses and the Sirens by John William Waterhouse

However, pride, doubt, and rebellion begins to creep in. Despite the obviously Christian references of Roll Away the Stone, it is not a positive song towards faith. In fact, it is contemptuous and bitter towards God: "It seems that all my bridges have been burnt, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing works." (Roll Away the Stone) To be honest, I sympathize with the verses of this song because faith often results in the free choice of the Creation against the Creator. It is certainly not Man's purpose to do this, as we have seen, but we do it anyway because our created natures "know better" than the omnipotent nature: "But you, you've gone too far this time, you have neither reason nor rhyme, with which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine." (Roll Away the Stone)

My interpretation of White Blank Page, the fifth song on the album, presumes to put words in the mouth of God, as I believe he reacts to this rebellion. The opening verses of the song question Man's desires and probes his very soul for fittingness:

Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body
And can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love
As well as your folly
And can you kneel before the King
And say I'm clean, I'm clean

To me, this echoes a soul's Examination of Conscience, in which the Christian surveys their words, thoughts, and actions for any sins committed for which reparations need to be made. It is true, a man in rebellion against God cannot answer these and still claim to be His servant. However, it is with great sadness that the words mournfully carry on, "But tell me now, where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart." (White Blank Page) Who can claim no fault or harm towards us and also have loved us with His whole heart? My guess is Jesus Christ.

The human soul is now steeped in bitterness towards his Creator. He has forsaken Him and has turned towards his own passions, "Stars hide your fires, these here are my desires, and I won't give them up to you this time around." (Roll Away the Stone) But it is in I Gave You All that Man must express his unmistakeably anguish at having been separated from God.The lost and wayward soul has given his God everything he has, and yet "... you rip it from my hands, and you swear it's all gone. And you rip out all I have, just to say that you've won," like a small child who takes what is not his and hides it behind his back, claiming complete ignorance of the wrong.

Devils from a fresco in the Rila Monestary in Bulgaria

Now, the devil has his prize. Man has forsaken God for his own passions, and now Satan claims what is his. He taunts Man, "Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart. Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start." (Little Lion Man) This hits very close to home for me and for anyone who recognizes, despite their best intentions, there is always that evil voice, whispering in your ear and telling you about all the things you could never do because you lack the strength and courage to do them. This song is by far the most angsty and frustrated of the entire album. Even the chord progression sounds like a demon's jig over his winnings. The devil gloats to us that despite all our strength, all our virtue, we are still subject to his power and "your grace is wasted in your face, your boldness stands alone among the wreck." (Little Lion Man) In fear is the way the devil likes to keep Man, and it is in our fears that Satan reigns supreme.

If Little Lion Man is Satan's triumphant jeering, then Timshel, the proceeding song, is God's invitation to return to His grace. Upon seeing the peculiar title of the song, I was immediately curious about what it meant. As it turns out, timshel is commonly understood to be Hebrew for "thou shalt", as it is found in the Ten Commandments. However, in John Steinbeck's book East of Eden, two characters have a discussion of its meaning, and one of them reveals that it's original meaning has been confused and that it actually means "thou mayest". He claims that the "mayest" distinguishes itself from "shalt" because it puts emphasis on Man's freedom to choose, and not on the deterministic and inevitable implications of "shalt". Mumford & Sons makes this a critical, tender moment after the previous harsh, and at times vulgar tune of Little Lion Man. The soul now realizes that despite his despair, "you have your choices, and these are what make man great, his ladder to the stars." (Timeshel) Man's freedom is what makes him like God, in his image and likeness. God does not leave Man to these choices, alone and unaided: "you are not alone in this, as brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand." (Timshel) However as the song ends, the final haunting words, "But I can't move the mountains for you" (Timshel) put the ultimate responsibility on Man to make the right choices. God's grace is sufficient to do anything, and He gives it to us all time, but if we are not willing to to do the will of God, His grace will fall on fallow ground or  choked by thorns. (Luke 8:4-15)

Thorns, or Thistles and Weeds, which coincidentally enough, is the title of the next song, rise up and choke our faith in Christ's Parable of the Sower. The lyrics tell us to "plant your hope with good seeds, don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds, rain down, rain down on me." (Thistles and Weeds) In keeping with the Parable of the Sower, the teachings of Christ are the good seeds we should seek to plant within us, and those of the world only yield destructive fruits. The song creates an air of impending doom, as if the vices of this world threaten to strangle any faith that we have.

Landscape with the Parable of the Sower
by Pieter Bruegel the Elder

Threatened by this evil, Man cries out to be free of these vicious habits and temptations. Our souls were made for higher things, but when our back have been turned to God's graces, these higher things are impossible to realize. Very soon, a soul must admit that he's been wrong, that "now my heart stumbles on things I don't know, my weakness I feel I must finally show." (Awake My Soul) That 'weakness' of dependence on God is a lie from the devil. Of course, we are weak, but the notion that we are autonomous, that we have no dependence on anything is a clever deception of the devil to take advantage of our pride: "How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes, I struggle to find any truth in your lies." (Awake My Soul) But Man knows in the depths of his heart that he is dependent and that he cannot live without a higher Helper. The Helper, which is a term used by Christ in reference to Holy Spirit, offers to us, "Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all, but lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall. Lend me your eyes I can change what you see, but your soul you must keep, totally free." (Awake My Soul) God permits us to keep our souls and our freedom. He does not take that timshel away, but gives us that responsibility to make those choices. He allows us to fall sometimes because that is how we realize our dependence on our Creator, "For you were made to meet your maker." (Awake My Soul)

The eleventh song on the album, Dust Bowl Dance, deviates strangely from the rather abstract, introspective tone of the rest of the album. It tells the story of a young man whose farm is being foreclosed upon after a recent famine. The young man's anger and bitter frustration with those who would take his land is frighteningly apparent with, "I'll go out back and I'll get my gun, I'll say, 'You haven't met me, I am the only son.'" (Dust Bowl Dance) However, this song is retrospective because the crime has already been committed, "Well, yes sir, yes sir, yes, it was me, I know what I've done, 'cause I know what I've seen." (Dust Bowl Dance) After the evil Man does in a moment of passionate rage, the soul feels the crushing weight of its sins and the feeling is one of intense contrition, "So collect your courage and collect your horse, and pray you never feel this same kind of remorse." (Dust Bowl Dance) And this is how we reapproach our God who we have denied: with sorrow and true contrition for our sins. The soul, having made this painful journey illustrated in each chapter of this album, now looks to return to God and seek his forgiveness.

The Storm on the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt

It is fitting then, that final song of the "Sigh No More", After the Storm, draws on some imagery from the Parable of the Prodigal Son. After his defiance to God, after his bitter rebellion against his Creator, Man's pride fails him and he cannot run anymore, "And after the storm, I run and run as the rains come and I look up, I look up, on my knees and out of luck, I look up." (After the Storm) His soul is weary of his insurgency against the Lord, for he has found the bottom of the pit which he himself has dug. He sees the meaninglessness of his own acts, but still desires to not waste away, "But I won't rot, I won't rot, not this mind and not this heart, I won't rot." (After the Storm) Now, the soul must return to his God. His loneliness in his appalling state has shown him that God is the only one who can welcome him back: "And I won't die alone and be left there. Well I guess I'll just go home, Oh God knows where." (After the Storm) Though his sorrow for his own sins makes him realize the grave injustice that he has done to his Maker, it does not stifle all his hope. With God, there is a better life, and these verses make that abundantly clear:

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And with that, Sigh No More reaches it's conclusion, and the Christian begins once more in his quest for unity with God. So am I totally full of it? Am I just making this up and really this album is another rant meant to fulfill any lingering teenage angst? Maybe, but as far as I'm concerned, this is the most Christian rock album I've ever heard.

The Highest Human Science: II. Pre-Philosophical Thought

This is a post from the series, "The Highest Human Science". Click here for a complete list of all posts in the series.

This flippin' bonkers scene from "The Matrix" is brought to you by: IDEALISM!

 One of the most popular action films of all time, "The Matrix" (1999) has been critically acclaimed for its original and captivating story. For those who haven't seen the film, it is about a world in which the "real world" you experience is not actually real. Instead, the entire human populations is plugged into one massive super computer via a prehistoric USB connection in the base of the neck, whilst being suspended in a vat of jelly. This is the general premise of the film and, yes, it makes for some exciting science fiction. If you haven't seen it, I can't recommend it enough because it truly revolutionized the way films are made (the sequels, I could do without).

Though I said this was an original story, it's true that many  philosophers, most notable Renee Descartes, suggested that our senses may not be entirely trustworthy. His philosophy's foundation was to doubt everything and rebuild our rational structure from the certain truths while leaving out the falsehoods, almost like overturning an apple cart of ripe and rotten apples, so as to pick up the good apples and leave the rotten ones on the ground and out of the cart. It was in this process that he wrote the now-famous (or infamous) phrase, Cogito ego sum ("I think, therefore I am") in which he claims to have proven his own existence after doubting it momentarily. (Descartes was pretty hardcore about this doubting thing) But what was truly revolutionary about the Matrix was that with the dawn of the digital age, it put forth a world in which there might be a very good reason to doubt what we see, taste, smell, touch, and hear.

Descartes upset the apple cart and this donkey

Too bad it's all a bunch of nonsense. Though entertaining for a science fiction film to speculate upon, it is purely fictional in its expression of ideas. This may sound harsh, but although philosophy specializes in the exercise of human reason, man is not always fully rational, so he is not always correct in the conclusions he draws. Unfortunately, rational thought has a spotty history, and along the way, many mistakes have been made, leading to the ruin of entire civilizations. Even today, despite our civilization's hyper-intensive focus on the supreme authority of the natural sciences, rational errors are rampant everywhere you look: in religions, in politics, and most certainly in ethics.

Early "pre-philosophical" thought was frequently confused as being rooted in religious beliefs and practices. The human wisdom studied in philosophy was mingled with sacred traditions and practices such that it was no longer rooted in human reason. Rather, it took its foundations in religious traditions of ancient cultures, and not in the exercise of human reason, independent of religion. Essentially, human reason had little or no part in informing the civilization's philosophy.

One such mistake is the concept of dualism, the idea that two eternal and uncreated principles of Good and Evil fight in a never-ending cosmic struggle. It is typically commonly used as an answer to the problem of evil, and was the core belief of the Persian culture, specifically in the beliefs of Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism. The hope was to explain why good and evil are able to coexist in the world; however, the erroneous implication of dualism is that evil is natural to the world, (as opposed to the Christian understanding in which evil is a privation of good). This leads to the conclusion that there are created beings that are evil by their very nature.

 

A musical summary of pantheism as taught/sung in Disney's Pocahontas

The concept of pantheism is another such confusion. Pantheism is the idea that God is comprised of everything in the universe: every being, every substance shares equally in the fullness of the divine being. Problem with this is that there leaves no distinction between creator and creation, and this completely contradicts the obvious multiplicity of distinct and seemingly independent beings. Brahmanism (or Hinduism) is one of the primary culprits of this error, though they go further and explain away the apparent multiplicity by saying that the world is actually an evil illusion (an idea known as idealism) and one must detach from it, striving always to lose one's role in the deceitful multiplicity. Buddhism, an off-shoot of Brahman philosophy in some respects, goes so far as to claim that not only the possession of individuality is an evil, but the very existence of the soul is an evil.

This short account of pre-philosophical errors is by no means exhaustive. We will examine many other errors in thought in future posts, but this will serve for now as a high-level overview of a few of the oldest intellectual errors. The main purpose of our dive into the weirdness of what the human mind can conceive was to prove that though these ideas may be worthy of science fiction, they're not worthy of much else...

Except for this...

 *Adapted from Jacques Maritain's book, "An Introduction to Philosophy" (trans. by E.I. Watkin)

The Dangers of God's Grace

Since middle-school, I had been very fond of swimming, particularly racing. I prided myself on being the fastest free-style and backstroke swimmer on the team, and winning first place in races was a common occurrence. One meet, however, the coaches had signed me up for my usual free-style and backstroke events, but also on my list of race events was the butterfly stroke race. This was a problem: I had never swam butterfly.

Sure, we had done some practice with it, but I never possessed the proper coordination to make it more than a few meters before I was doggie-paddling. I approached the starting blocks, shaken with fear of not only losing the race, but possibly not even finishing. Silently, I prayed to God that I should at least finish the race, let alone not drown in my attempt.

I not only finished, but I earned first place. It's difficult to convince anyone that the occurrence of this result was a miracle, but to me, it's profoundly clear that it was. Whatever grace I received was accompanied by the unsettling fear of failure before and a consequently very sore and worn-out body afterwards. In this instance, God's grace had been a painful experience.

"The Calling of the Apostles Peter and Andrew"
by Duccio di Buoninsegna

Today's gospel provides Luke's account of the first meeting between Christ and Peter. A few weeks ago, I published a post on the struggle with habitual sin and proper contrition for them, and I cited the example of Peter's initial encounter with Christ in the gospel of Luke. They meet on the shores of the Sea of Galilee and Christ instructs Peter to cast out to open water and lower his nets. Peter, having caught nothing at night, remained doubtful with the success of this course of action, but he acquiesced anyway. Once the nets had been lowered, the catch of fish was so great that their nets began to tear and even with the help of a second boat, they were both in danger of sinking.

First, receiving God's grace only takes a simple "yes". Peter's dubious "yes" led to an incredible catch of fish. Mary's simple, yet perfect "yes" opened her to the conception of the very Son of God. On the mountain, the young boy's "yes" to providing the few loaves and the fishes he possessed led to the feeding of five thousand people with some to spare. Our gifts may be small, but in cooperation with God, miracles become possible. Most people have heard of this aspect of God's grace (or have experienced it for themselves). It is definitely a wonderful blessing to realize this and acknowledge it in our lives.

However, what you don't hear is that sometimes, God's grace may nearly kill us with its intensity. In the today's second reading, Paul refers to his conversion story of being cast off his horse simply at the sound of Christ's voice, and in the Gospel, Peter and his fellow fishermen nearly drowned as a result of an incredible catch of fish. In both circumstances, God's grace manifested itself in violent, threatening ways. These accounts challenge a common notion that God's grace is always quiet or subtle because sometimes, the furious power of God's grace comes to us in these "life(style)-threatening" situations.

Focusing on the Gospel account, the fishermen's nets were tearing, the boat was capsizing, and the human help of the second boat could not even alleviate the sheer enormity of God's grace. Similarly when we encounter His grace, the nets of our vices will be torn through and our lives, it seems, will be in danger of sinking and drowning. The manner in which we have allowed ourselves to just "float" through life will be shaken to such a degree that in order to be set right, we will be confronted with the reality of that very real danger of death to our lifestyles, If we're open to it, God's dangerous graces will "kill us", but our death will be a "death to self" and our rebirth will be in His divine love. Our sins and depravities will be put to death and all that will remain is our charity. 

"The Conversion of St. Paul" by Francesco Mazzola

So why is God's grace sometimes so violent in this fashion? Grace must necessarily purify us. In today's first reading, Isaiah had a hot coal placed on his mouth. In the second reading, St. Paul was cast from his horse and blinded. In the Gospel, Peter's physical strength fails him and even with the help of his companions, he is filled with fear of a drowning death. Each of these men were flawed and each received the cleansing gift of God's grace. However, just as Purgatory prepares us to see God face to face by a painful purification, God's grace to these sinful men is so great that in their fallen nature, they perceive it to be painful. To eyes that have never seen the sunlight, even the slightest ray of sunshine is blindingly painful, but once the eyes become accustomed to the goodness of the illumination around them, they rejoice at that purifying grace which was once excruciating.

How often do we allow ourselves to experience this fearful level of grace in our lives? Do we shirk away from it for fear of braving the danger to our lifestyles? There is a significant amount of dying-to-oneself that we all need to do in our lives, and if we avoid this death, we will always be devoid of God's greatest graces and blessings. But if we are open to that painfully purifying grace in our daily lives, we are given a blessed opportunity to suffer with the Suffering Servant, the Crucified Christ.

The Philosophical Basics of the Resurrection

Courtesy of WikiPaintings.org

Probably of all my classes at Our Lady’s University, none had me more attentive than my course on St. Thomas Aquinas’ account of human nature, taught by Dr. John O’Callaghan. Unfortunately, this was my first formal exposure to the philosophy of St. Thomas, and as a 4000 level course, I do not think I got the most out of it. I had taken a course on Aristotle’s ethical theory the semester before, but though these two great minds were similar in worldview, Aristotle’s pagan terminology and approach was nowhere near a proper introduction to Thomas’ intellectually mammoth rational constructions.

Despite this, I did benefit from this study, and as I have only and always been interested in acquiring the truth and never in spouting off any philosopher’s theories word-for-word, this was not an insignificant benefit. One thing that really fascinated me during my study of Aquinas’ philosophy of human nature was in terms of the resurrection.

As is the relationship between theology and philosophy, divine revelation can invariably be confirmed by human reason. The saying, “philosophy is the handmaiden of theology” springs to mind. Basically, if our understanding were to be laid out on a line spectrum with things we know from human reason and things we know from divine revelation, each would generally lie on either side of the spectrum and there would be a gap in between. This gap represents our lack of full understanding of the higher bits of knowledge, specifically those things divinely revealed to us, creating what we call “mysteries”. Divine revelation gives us those truths that would otherwise be impossible to reach solely with our own reason, though these truths are coherent with our own human reason. Everything divinely revealed can be confirmed with the same human reason that we use to work a math problem or organize a closet or make a gourmet meal.

The resurrection of the body promised by Christ at his Second Coming is just one of those things that, with a little Thomistic ontology, is completely reasonable to believe, though the particulars certainly remain a mystery. First, it is important to remember that we are human beings (don’t forget that definition), and “human being” is defined as a living body animated by a rational, immortal soul. Therefore, it is accurate to say that when John dies, John (the unified human being) ceases to exist because his soul is separated from his body. However, John’s essence, his soul, is immortal and survives the body.

So our soul lives on, separated from our body which decays and fades away with time. At this point, do our souls just remain in Heaven? It is eternal beatitude, after all, so what more could we want or need? Why does Christ promise that our souls will be reunited with our bodies in the Resurrection? Is that really necessary after achieving eternal beatitude?

I certainly cannot say what is divinely necessary, but I can definitely say that it’s perfectly reasonable that I should be reunited with my body after I die. In the state after death, our human nature is divided: our soul is in Heaven and our decomposing body remains on earth. But since we were created as human beings (body and soul) and not as angels who are purely spiritual and incorporeal beings, it would seem a little odd that we should spend eternity in such a divided state, especially when our bodies are an intrinsic part of our own creation and being. (if they were not, why should we bother caring for them in this life?)

As an analogy to illustrate this, a free-floating balloon is caught by a child and tied down. The balloon’s natural destiny is to float away into the sky, but here, it is separated from that destination and tied to the ground. If the balloon was meant to remain close to earth, why was it filled with a lighter-than-air gas to begin with? Similarly, it is our natural destiny to be unified, soul and body. When we die, our soul is separated from our body and allowed to take root in Heaven. If this were the end of the story, then why did God create us with bodies in the first place? It seems perfectly natural to believe, then, that the destiny of our human nature is to be unified, body and soul, in eternal beatitude with God after the Resurrection.

So our use of human reason confirms the revelation of the Resurrection. I am not suggesting that while in Heaven after death, we will in some way miss our physical bodies or feel uncomfortable without them. This would suggest that eternal beatitude is deficient in some way. But as it has been revealed to the human race, Divine Justice promises to return us to our bodies at the end of time, and this is at the very least is something we can partially understand.

Habitual Sins and Contrition

"The Miraculous Draught of Fishes" by Raphael

When one deals with a habitual sin, it can be difficult to arrive at proper contrition. True contrition necessitates that you reject the sin and resolve to never commit it again; however, because of our fallen nature, it is not unlikely that despite our best intentions, we will succumb to temptation and descend into that sin again. We acknowledge this in an attempt to be realistic about ourselves and the situation, but often it gives the effect of despair. The past is gloomy from those sins already committed, the present is dark because we are still committing the sin, and the future looms ominously because this is a habitual sin and the temptation, at least, will most certainly occur again.

What should our outlook be under these circumstances? It is possible the habitual sinner will equate the occurrence of the temptation with the occurrence of the sin itself, assuming the success of the devil’s efforts and an inevitable fall from a state of grace. In this sense, the sinner has already ‘given up’ trying to break the chain of sin formed by habit.

However, the past is only an indication of the trials we will face and not a determination of our future actions. We can certainly look to the past to ascertain the obstacles of the future and even learn from our past failures in terms of what aided us or hindered us from clearing those hurdles.  Though, it is not true that because we have stumbled over the same obstacle again and again, we are incapable of achieving breaks in the chain. It is definitely a slow process and success will be elusive at the beginning, but we must be careful to not assume the devil’s triumph, just because he tempts us.

Therefore, we return to the question of contrition: what should be the elements of our contrition, especially for the difficult case of habitual sins? Peter told Christ, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man.” (Luke 5:8) This certainly seems like despair at first glance, but Peter’s desire to be with Christ is so strong that at his invitation, he leaves everything to follow him. He was so eager to be with Jesus that despite his unworthiness, he was willing to give up all he owned to be with him.

So on the one hand, we must acknowledge our unworthiness; for the slightest sin, much less a habitual sin committed several times, without God’s mercy is enough to damn us to Hell forever. This acknowledgement must not, however, prohibit us from recognizing the profound, all-consuming desire we have for Christ. We may need to apologize seventy times seven times, but we must never cease to proclaim our love for him who loved us so much as to give his life for us. In our sorrow, we must beat our breasts lamenting, “mea culpa” then shout joyously, “Gloria in excelsis Deo!” for His Divine Mercy.

My History of Coffee

This post is a portion of a larger untitled work in progress...


When birthday or Christmas time rolls around, people ask me for gift ideas for me. Typically, I don’t appreciate this question because that spoils all the fun of getting someone a gift. But I play along anyway. What I usually say is very simply, “Coffee.” I get a laugh or two and then they ask me what I really want for my birthday.

This puzzles me. I just told them. Coffee.

People that don’t know me very well seem not to take that answer seriously. Wait, was I being serious? Was I really talking about the beverage that everybody makes, half-asleep, a couple minutes after dragging themselves out of bed in the morning? Was I actually referring to the chewable, black tar that the bushy-mustached old man makes at the office, referring to it as a “cup of Joe” when it would be more accurate to refer to it as a “cup of– wait a second… is this dirt”? Was I speaking about the beverage that represents just a "caffeine fix", as easily replaceable by Red Bull, Monster, or RockStar?  Oddly enough, coffee is not my source for a caffeine fix.

Coffee is a source for spiritual experiences.

Kaldi, son of Aldi

Given to mankind from the Mug of God himself, coffee has a long and hallowed history. Originating in Ethiopia in the 9th century and discovered by Kaldi, son of Aldi (who himself was the successful founder of a global discount supermarket chain), the drink quickly became known for its healing powers and use in religious ceremonies. It was adopted by many Middle Eastern countries and became a staple as a drink of the Muslim world. Despite the success of the drink in the immediate area, the Islamic nations withheld trade to the Western and Far Eastern countries.

It was not until the early 12th century when Saint Drogo, blessed by the Lord with the ability to bilocate, was able to liberate the bean covertly from the Middle East’s grip and brought it to Italy, thereby earning the title of “patron saint of coffee and coffeehouses”. Unfortunately, the Christian world was not yet prepared to accept the strange brew from the Muslim world. But in 1600, Pope Clement the VIII proclaimed that the drink be made available to all Christians, declaring, “Non magis excusat desideraturus mane Missam!” The western world was ecstatic, blessing God for his infinite goodness and generosity.

The Boston Coffee Party of 1773

Since then, nations all around the world began to discover the black and life-giving treasure. In America before the Revolutionary War, the King of England had laid a heavy tax on tea, prompting the colonial peoples to import coffee as a substitute. After tasting the first arrival of the new beverage, they were astonished at the superior taste and tossed all of the British-imported tea into Boston harbor in celebration. The event was erroneously misnamed because the drink of choice at the ensuing party was in fact coffee, making it accurately known as the “Boston Coffee Party”.

In the early 19th century, Napoleon Bonaparte sought to invade and conquer Russia. Despite the Russian’s “scorched earth” tactics, the French army was resolute on entering Moscow. Although two thirds of Moscow lay burned upon their arrival, it was not the ruin and spoil of their prize that disheartened the Emperor of France: the Russians did not have any coffee in the city . Unable to devise a strategy to survive the bitter Russian winter without the soul-warming brew, Napoleon sounded the retreat and his army limped back to France, discouraged, defeated, and de-caffeinated.

Without coffee, Thomas Edison’s 10,000 attempts to invent the light bulb would have been impossible to accomplish during the long days and endless nights of work. Without coffee, Ward Cleaver would have woken up every morning to the sound of Beaver’s voice without the character-fortifying agent that restrains the disciplining backhand. And without coffee, countless research papers and final projects would have lay in ruins before procrastinating student.

Every culture, every land, throughout all of human history, has benefited from this wonderful beverage. If fresh, it is sweet to taste and refreshing to the mind. Though truly fresh coffee is difficult to obtain, roasts abound that harness the power of the bean and still yield not to bitterness.

"Temptation"

Courtesy of www.toeverytribeblog.com

Temptation

Though they say, “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions,”

None were quite as good as mine.

Though I assured Father I would offend and lapse no more,

I lie, famished, with the swine.

Though my heart, in trials, yearns for your intervention,

To my grim fate, I resign.

Though I lift my eyes to your glory to gladly adore,

I descend to acts, malign.

But though I walk in the dark forest of my own blunders,

In shade, does Your mercy shine.

But though the hounds and vultures of the Netherworld surround,

You lift me to visions divine.

But though hosts of fiends seek to rend my spirit asunder,

My soul is for hands of Thine.

But though every power, terror, horror of Hell, around,

I stay a branch, You the Vine.

Through failure, defect, and fault,

You, My God, my soul exalts.

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