The world we live in, with its constant communication, is hard to slow down enough sometimes to figure out what's going on. This past week was no different, with lots of new and exciting things happening, and lots of craziness out there as usual. As a way to hope to comment on it, I want to start presenting my weekly lists of things that happened and what I thought about them. Or, as often happens, maybe this will be the only one I do. Oh well; here's some things I either liked or didn't like, and no I won't tell you which is which.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
The Beauty of Saint Francis
This post should be somewhere in between a story of a saint, a book review, and a random series of ramblings. I want to use a book about a saint as a starting point, and from there have some semblance of coherence about the man and what we learn from him. The book, to start, is Saint Francis of Assisi by G.K. Chesterton. I will not review the book, for Chesterton's brilliance is well-stated and would not need another positive review from me to be known. I also will not attempt to explain all of who Saint Francis is - Chesterton, along with many (many) others, has already done that very well - but rather I will talk about one aspect of what Chesterton helped me see made Francis the great saint that he was.
Those who have read Chesterton know that reading him is unlike almost anything else we tend to read. In this case, he writes a biography that is wholly unlike a biography anyone else might write, as he is concerned much less with things like dates than he is with the story.
For Chesterton, Francis was the great example of what a religion should look like, that it would be "not a thing like a theory but a thing like a love affair." In this sense, we can begin to see what I think is Chesterton's most overwhelming point about Francis - that he is such a great figure because he was so unique.
Francis' greatness seems to be summed up in this idea: he saw the world completely the opposite way of everyone else, and in his view was able to see the world as a great poem and adventure to be explored. Francis was amazed by the day-to-day, seeing the beauty of the Creator in every moment and being better off for it. This began early in his life, Chesterton tells us, when Francis spent time in a cave, and came out from there looking "at the world as differently from other men as if he had come out of that dark hole walking on his hands."
In a way that is typical of the extraordinary men and women who have walked the earth, but is never exemplified more than in the person of Francis, he was able to see the beauty of the world. For Francis, the world was not a theory, not a set of rules nor a path to be followed, but rather an adventure and love affair to be journeyed and lived.
"The whole point of his point of view was that it looked out freshly upon a fresh world that might have been made that morning." It is well-known that Francis referred to all creation as his brother or sister, but it is often confused why; here, it is obvious. For this man, a romantic at heart and lover of poetry and music and adventure, life was beautiful and wonderful, something which had an endless joy to give the person who lived it. Each morning, he saw the world new, believing in his heart that the Creator had done nothing short of extraordinary in the rising of the sun and the fresh coat of dew on the grass.
And Francis not only thought this way, he lived it as well. His whole life, completely extraordinary in how beautiful he lived the ordinary ups and downs of daily life, was a journey of love, seeing the world for the beautiful place it is, all the while looking to the Creator to understand it all. "[H]e took the queerest and most zigzag shortcuts through the wood, but he was always going home."
One last story of Francis, I think, will help illustrate my point. Late in his life, while he was aging and dying, it became clear that he was going blind. At the time, Francis, who desired martyrdom but had found only the beauty of daily life, was told that this remedy was to cauterize his eye, but to do so without anesthesia. And so, the day came when it was time to take a red-hot iron and put it into Francis' eye in order to make him able to see, and this is the account we have of him: "When they took the brand from the furnace, he rose as with an urbane gesture and spoke as to an invisible presence: 'Brother Fire, God made you beautiful and strong and useful; I pray you be courteous with me.'"
The accounts of the marvelous life of Saint Francis are seemingly endless, but hopefully we can narrow in here on why he might have lived so extraordinarily. For Francis, unlike for most of us, life was poetic, beautiful, and glorious no matter the circumstances. For him, the Creator had given so much good, so much beauty, so much to be grateful for, and he had called for a response out of His servant Francis in a very specific way. Again unlike many of us, Francis didn't hesitate, but he responded.
At a time in history when the world desperately needed a bright light to shine forth and awaken it to the beauty all around, Francis came onto the scene. In our world, do we not likewise see a darkness? Does the world not need people who are willing to see the world as if we are on our hands, allowing us to see not as the feeble senses see but as the Divine Creator does?
Maybe, for us, this is the call of Francis. Maybe we're supposed to look at the world every morning and see Brother Sun, Sister Tree, and all of the creation and see the Creator who loves immensely through His creation. Maybe, like he said to Francis, He is echoing into the depths of our heart "go rebuild my Church, for it has fallen into ruin." Maybe, we are to see in Francis a man who lived so beautifully and be roused to joy, to prayer, to love, and to live life as less of a theory and more of a love affair.
Now, just because they're worth reading, I will close with the poetic and magnificent words of Chesterton on the death of Saint Francis:
By the way, go pick up the book from Chesterton on Amazon: Saint Francis of Assisi
Those who have read Chesterton know that reading him is unlike almost anything else we tend to read. In this case, he writes a biography that is wholly unlike a biography anyone else might write, as he is concerned much less with things like dates than he is with the story.
For Chesterton, Francis was the great example of what a religion should look like, that it would be "not a thing like a theory but a thing like a love affair." In this sense, we can begin to see what I think is Chesterton's most overwhelming point about Francis - that he is such a great figure because he was so unique.
Francis' greatness seems to be summed up in this idea: he saw the world completely the opposite way of everyone else, and in his view was able to see the world as a great poem and adventure to be explored. Francis was amazed by the day-to-day, seeing the beauty of the Creator in every moment and being better off for it. This began early in his life, Chesterton tells us, when Francis spent time in a cave, and came out from there looking "at the world as differently from other men as if he had come out of that dark hole walking on his hands."
In a way that is typical of the extraordinary men and women who have walked the earth, but is never exemplified more than in the person of Francis, he was able to see the beauty of the world. For Francis, the world was not a theory, not a set of rules nor a path to be followed, but rather an adventure and love affair to be journeyed and lived.
"The whole point of his point of view was that it looked out freshly upon a fresh world that might have been made that morning." It is well-known that Francis referred to all creation as his brother or sister, but it is often confused why; here, it is obvious. For this man, a romantic at heart and lover of poetry and music and adventure, life was beautiful and wonderful, something which had an endless joy to give the person who lived it. Each morning, he saw the world new, believing in his heart that the Creator had done nothing short of extraordinary in the rising of the sun and the fresh coat of dew on the grass.
And Francis not only thought this way, he lived it as well. His whole life, completely extraordinary in how beautiful he lived the ordinary ups and downs of daily life, was a journey of love, seeing the world for the beautiful place it is, all the while looking to the Creator to understand it all. "[H]e took the queerest and most zigzag shortcuts through the wood, but he was always going home."
One last story of Francis, I think, will help illustrate my point. Late in his life, while he was aging and dying, it became clear that he was going blind. At the time, Francis, who desired martyrdom but had found only the beauty of daily life, was told that this remedy was to cauterize his eye, but to do so without anesthesia. And so, the day came when it was time to take a red-hot iron and put it into Francis' eye in order to make him able to see, and this is the account we have of him: "When they took the brand from the furnace, he rose as with an urbane gesture and spoke as to an invisible presence: 'Brother Fire, God made you beautiful and strong and useful; I pray you be courteous with me.'"
The accounts of the marvelous life of Saint Francis are seemingly endless, but hopefully we can narrow in here on why he might have lived so extraordinarily. For Francis, unlike for most of us, life was poetic, beautiful, and glorious no matter the circumstances. For him, the Creator had given so much good, so much beauty, so much to be grateful for, and he had called for a response out of His servant Francis in a very specific way. Again unlike many of us, Francis didn't hesitate, but he responded.
At a time in history when the world desperately needed a bright light to shine forth and awaken it to the beauty all around, Francis came onto the scene. In our world, do we not likewise see a darkness? Does the world not need people who are willing to see the world as if we are on our hands, allowing us to see not as the feeble senses see but as the Divine Creator does?
Maybe, for us, this is the call of Francis. Maybe we're supposed to look at the world every morning and see Brother Sun, Sister Tree, and all of the creation and see the Creator who loves immensely through His creation. Maybe, like he said to Francis, He is echoing into the depths of our heart "go rebuild my Church, for it has fallen into ruin." Maybe, we are to see in Francis a man who lived so beautifully and be roused to joy, to prayer, to love, and to live life as less of a theory and more of a love affair.
Now, just because they're worth reading, I will close with the poetic and magnificent words of Chesterton on the death of Saint Francis:
A man might fancy that the birds must have known when it happened; and made some motion in the evening sky. As they had once, according to the tale, scattered to the four winds of heaven in the pattern of a cross at his signal of dispersion, they might now have written in such dotted lines a more awful augury across the sky. Hidden in the woods perhaps were little cowering creatures never again to be so much noticed and understood; and it has been said that animals are sometimes conscious of things to which man, their spiritual superior, is for the moment blind. We do not know whether an shiver passed through the thieves and the outcasts and the outlaws, to tell them what had happened to him who never knew the nature of scorn. But at least in the passages and porches of the Portiuncula there was a sudden stillness, where all brown figures stood like bronze statues; for the stopping of the great heart that had not broken till it held the world.
By the way, go pick up the book from Chesterton on Amazon: Saint Francis of Assisi
Thursday, February 6, 2014
[Book Review]; Why Catholicism Matters
Why Catholicism Matters:
How Catholic Virtues can Reshape Society in the 21st Century
Bill Donohue
Image Books, 2012
Any person, no matter their personal beliefs, must admit that Christianity, and in a specific way Catholicism, has had a major impact on the development of society. Now, many people may see this is a negative thing, or may wish to downplay how much it actually affected society, but to some extent it has impacted society. In this book, Bill Donohue, the President of the Catholic League, wrote this book to explore that very topic, looking at the way that Catholicism and its virtues could positively impact the modern world and society.
In the hope of intellectual honesty, I feel I must start by saying that this was not my all-time favorite book. There were things, you will see, that I liked a lot, but there were also things I did not like. I hope to give a fair review of this book on its own merits, but it would be impossible to judge the book on anything outside of my own experience with it, and so I want to be honest and say that my experience was relatively mediocre.
Now, with that said, I think Donohue does some very nice things in this book. To start, his idea of shaping the look at society in the form of the cardinal virtues (prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance) was a very astute way to shape his observations. With these virtues, he was able to look at so many aspects of a society - from government to economy to morality and everything in between - in an orderly way that one could follow along with. His knowledge of the history of modern society as well as the teachings of the Catholic Church cannot be questioned, and neither can his research. Throughout this entire book, Donohue weaves in stories of men and women who affected modern society in various ways, showing their contributions in light of the overall virtue that guided their steps.
In all honesty, I think that what I didn't like about the book was more of a pre-disposition I had than anything. Based on the title of the book, I was hoping for a more compelling argument for virtue, but instead found this book to be more of an apology or explanation for the need for Catholic virtue. I believe that I read this book hoping for something I could hand to someone who was staunchly opposed to the Church and it might change their perspective, but I found the language and perspective much more geared to a person of faith hoping to expand their own defense of the faith. While this is not an bad thing to do in a book, it simply was not what I was hoping he might take this chance to do.
Would I recommend this book? I think I would, but with some caveats. I would recommend this book in the circumstance that one has people to discuss the book with. Donohue presents many good points, and much evidence behind his points, which beg for discussion and further understanding of how one can use that knowledge to better society. In that sense, then, I would recommend this book not as a means to conversion, but as a deepening of one's ability to present the faith to the world in the hopes of effecting society.
I didn't hate this book; I truly didn't. For me, I think, it simply was not what I wanted or needed. I did not desire another book defending Christianity, but rather a book exploding into the modern world with the passion that can truly change society. I did not find exactly what I was looking for here, but that's okay; maybe you will.
If you want more information about the author of this book, Bill Donohue, visit the Image Books author bio page: Dr. William Donohue. If you want more information on the book, or would like to purchase the book, visit the Image Books' page for that: Why Catholicism Matters.
"I received this book for free from Blogging for Books for this review."
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Why I Loved "Captain Phillips"
The experience of seeing a movie is largely that-an experience. From where we are, to how we feel, to what we have heard going into the movie, and everything in between, in many ways we dictate how we feel about a movie. Movies themselves, though, have the power to transcend our experience in certain ways, to make us feel things that we might not have expected and experience things that we weren't ready for. Sometimes, a movie might bring us joy simply because it is so joy-filled and fun; other times, it might bring us hope because the message is so profound that our feelings of hope in the moment can't affect how strongly hopeful the movie itself is. In many ways, this is what makes good art - does the art itself transcend the viewer, calling them to see or to feel or to hear something that they were not already disposed to hearing. Be it a beautiful song, an extremely well-done movie, or a classic painting, we often treasure art because it in some way transcended a moment and became a classic, as we like to call them, meaning it will outlive the moment we first experienced it.
For me, Captain Phillips was the sort of movie that did this. I do not think, though, that it was because it was the most exceptionally made movie of all time. I also do not think that it was the best movie of all time, although the fact that it is based on a true story always adds a dimension of power that the visual art of cinematography struggles to portray. No, I think that this was a classic because of the sense of humanity that was found in every character and in every scene. Many times, it seems, Hollywood creations are so busy trying to figure out what they are and who they are that they create people and characters who are fascinating on the big screen and very difficult to imagine in real life. When a movie like Captain Phillips takes very good actors and has them play real people who experienced a truly incredible thing, it has the potential to show much more than just a movie, but to show humanity; and I think in many ways it did that. If you haven't seen the movie, I recommend you do that. The story of the movie is a captain of a ship which is transferring goods to Africa and gets boarded by a group of Somalian Pirates. I won't go into a critique or explanation of the story beyond that, because I am neither a movie critic nor do I want to spend the next 1,000 words trying to explain a plot which is pretty incredible. There are moments in the movie that would be difficult to describe except for masters of prose, which I am not, and which the actors capture so perfectly on screen that it would almost do a disservice to try.
Now, there might be a few of you reading this who didn't like the movie, or didn't see the movie, and are thinking to yourself "why am I still reading?" In order to keep your attention, then, let me get to the point.
What I think is so beautiful about this movie is that it captured the humanity of all different people, from all different experiences, reacting to what was happening in truly human ways. The good guys weren't just heroes, they were people; the bad guys weren't just criminals, they were people; the smaller roles weren't just extras, they were people. Every person had a story which showed in his (or her, although there are only a few female characters) expressions and responses; every person had feelings, emotions, and desires which played into every decision that he made. There were moments in this movie that were so profound, so powerful, so intense that they were emotional not in the way that they aroused a specific emotion, but simply in the fact that they drew out emotion and caused you to feel for the people you were watching. Maybe film critics and moviegoers will be able to analyze this movie and say that there were some things lacking, some things they could've done better, some aspects they didn't like. What nobody could do, though, is go to this movie and not feel something, for that is what our humanity does - it longs to feel with the humanity of the other, it cares for the other and notices the other, even at times when we weren't quite ready to feel that way.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Go Be Holy...Not Weird
In a summer retreat program I often work, we have a saying that goes a little something like this: "be excited, not freaky." I've been reflecting on this very saying because it seems to be something that we in the Church - and don't worry, I am including myself - could be reminded of more often. The point of the saying is to remind the teens that as they go forward, as they encounter other people, not every person has the same experience of the Lord that they do, and that they should be mindful of that as they meet them. In meeting others, they should not shy away from their own convictions, but rather they should be mindful of where the other person is coming from and attempt not to scare them away.
Broader than just this retreat, though, holy people being strange is a weird thing. When someone gives his or her life to Jesus Christ, when that person decides that they are going to strive for holiness at all costs, that certainly means that they are going to be consecrated and in many ways be different than the world around them. What it doesn't need to mean, though, is that they are going to be weird; that's where I want to draw the line. In the eyes of the world, many things that we as Catholics do, say and believe are going to be seen as different and even weird by some, but that doesn't mean that we need to be weird people.
What I want to get at is that I think many times in our attempt to live out a holy life, we in the Church have isolated ourselves from the world. Since many movies, a lot of music, and a good amount of television shows say inappropriate things, we have decided to be completely cut off from anything not labeled "Christian." Since Christ is the most important thing in our lives (I truly hope that He is), any conversation that is not about our faith specifically is unimportant and really should be dropped at any second for a chance to preach the Gospel. When people we used to be friends with drop away from the Christian lifestyle we hope they're living, it is very important that we also drop them as friends.
Now, as a youth minister, I have to say that there are many times when I would counsel a teen (or adult, for that matter) to do some of these things. Sometimes, in order to truly devote yourself to the Christian life, you need to cut out a show or cut ties with some people; many times, you are called to preach the Gospel. What I don't think, though, is that we need to take this to the extreme it often goes.
If we, the Body of Christ, are to be His hands and feet, if we are to be salt and light to the world, if we are to bring Christ to the world, this is going to sometimes look like we're associating with people we shouldn't. Christ ate with prostitutes and sinners, and many saints throughout the centuries have shown us that it is very much in our call to do the same. And yet, it seems, in an effort to avoid a life of sin, many of us are scared to approach the culture. Then, in withdrawing from the things that the world finds as normal, we present to the world a character that is unapproachable and uninviting.
In these things, as with anything in Christianity, our life must have a balance. Between engaging the culture and withdrawing for the sake of our own morality, we most certainly must be prudent. What we also must be, though, is boldly willing to encounter people who need to be encountered, not just to convert them but to love them. If every conversation we have with someone not practicing Christianity is an attempt at conversion, we will continue to be ostracized and seen as strange people who are impossible to converse with. If, however, we are funny, engaging, and able to be approached, we will begin to break down walls that may have previously seemed insurmountable.
Often I've heard people say that "you will find holy people who are weird, but they were weird before they were holy," and often it's been true. Too often, though, it was a decision for holiness and a misunderstanding of what it meant to be salt and light, I think, that made people weird. If you're just sort of a weird, quirky person, more power to you (and, let's be honest, we're all a little bit weird). We ought to go to great lengths, though, to make sure that holiness does not become equated with weirdness, for then the Gospel will continue to be ignored.
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| image from: catholic-blame.com |
What I want to get at is that I think many times in our attempt to live out a holy life, we in the Church have isolated ourselves from the world. Since many movies, a lot of music, and a good amount of television shows say inappropriate things, we have decided to be completely cut off from anything not labeled "Christian." Since Christ is the most important thing in our lives (I truly hope that He is), any conversation that is not about our faith specifically is unimportant and really should be dropped at any second for a chance to preach the Gospel. When people we used to be friends with drop away from the Christian lifestyle we hope they're living, it is very important that we also drop them as friends.
Now, as a youth minister, I have to say that there are many times when I would counsel a teen (or adult, for that matter) to do some of these things. Sometimes, in order to truly devote yourself to the Christian life, you need to cut out a show or cut ties with some people; many times, you are called to preach the Gospel. What I don't think, though, is that we need to take this to the extreme it often goes.
If we, the Body of Christ, are to be His hands and feet, if we are to be salt and light to the world, if we are to bring Christ to the world, this is going to sometimes look like we're associating with people we shouldn't. Christ ate with prostitutes and sinners, and many saints throughout the centuries have shown us that it is very much in our call to do the same. And yet, it seems, in an effort to avoid a life of sin, many of us are scared to approach the culture. Then, in withdrawing from the things that the world finds as normal, we present to the world a character that is unapproachable and uninviting.
In these things, as with anything in Christianity, our life must have a balance. Between engaging the culture and withdrawing for the sake of our own morality, we most certainly must be prudent. What we also must be, though, is boldly willing to encounter people who need to be encountered, not just to convert them but to love them. If every conversation we have with someone not practicing Christianity is an attempt at conversion, we will continue to be ostracized and seen as strange people who are impossible to converse with. If, however, we are funny, engaging, and able to be approached, we will begin to break down walls that may have previously seemed insurmountable.
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| image from: broadsheet.ie/tag/cardina-dolan |
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