"It's that little souvenir of a terrible year"

Here we are friends, March the oneth! It's difficult to believe. I don't know about you, but 2019 already seems to me rather long. This is so for a variety of reasons about which I won't bother to go into in detail. Let me just say that a cozy middle age is not something I am settling into. While there are quite a few days I feel differently, for the most part, I am glad about this. While I am loathe to admit it, I like being challenged and challenging myself. The reason I am slow to admit this is because is I don't like to be challenged merely for the sake of being challenged. For me, challenges need to serve a purpose larger than my own personal "development" or "growth." These things are overrated. Pope Francis took aim at this kind of vanity among religious and clergy in his much-too-overlooked Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete et exsultate, "On the Call to Holiness in Today's World."

I have always found life, daily existence quite difficult. I remember during Spring term of my junior year in high school suddenly being horror-struck that one day I would have to earn a living and provide for myself. At that point, I felt I would never marry because I was quite certain I would be unable to support a family. As someone who really likes women and someone in whom was inculcated a very strict sexual morality, I can also remember worrying how I might meet my erotic needs if I did not marry. I was not raised Catholic and so I had no grasp of anything like sanctified celibacy and sexual continence. In other words, at that point, I would've asked- "Who would choose to live that way?" Okay, I was weird. But we already know that, right? I think these worries arose as a result of being from a working-class background- farming and construction on one side and doing whatever someone would pay you to do on the other- factory work, construction, roofing, road crew, etc.

I am pretty sure these concerns are what prompted me to enlist for military "service" two months before graduating high school. In turn, this is why I understand when people write about a poverty draft and call it things like military servitude. I did not enlist with the intent of forging a military career. I did it to give myself time and space to consider what I really wanted to do. Even after that, I kept kicking the can of decision down the road until my late 20s, when I met and married my wife. I didn't really begin to make a living until I was in my early 30s! The first several years of our marriage, my wife made more money than I did. Frankly, I kind of miss those days. Because I was raised in a very orderly house, I have never really minded domestic work. I would've made a great house-husband!

Anyway, I am not really sure what summoned all of that forth on this first morning of March. Oh yeah, that 2019 already seems like a long year to me. While I understand the importance of not clinging to the past, I will never get used to the losses that life inflicts on me. You know what? I am glad I will never get used to that!

I have always seen the outlook I briefly sketched above as kind of a weakness. Most days, I still do. In reality, it's just honesty about the brokenness and incompleteness of life in this world, something everyone who pays attention experiences and grapples with. As the late Rich Mullins sang: "We are not as strong as we think we are." I would amend this, at least in my case: "We are not as strong as we think we need to pretend to be." So, this brings me to the cornerstone of this line of reflection today, the reading for Morning Prayer, taken from Friday in Week III of the Psalter - 2 Corinthians 12:9b-10: "I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

At least to my mind, the greatest tragedy of sexual abuse in the Church is that instead of a loving community in which I can be vulnerable and support others in their vulnerability, for many people the Church is now seen as a place of potential exploitation of their vulnerability. This breaks my heart. It is a great loss. Of course, trust can be restored and must be restored. However, it is a slow, very slow, glacially slow process.

I believe that at the root of this scourge of exploitation is making the Catholic priesthood such a heroic pursuit. As a result, I think priests, who are broken, weak, and vulnerable like the rest of us, often feel they need to live up to that inhumanely heroic image. In some cases, this ridiculously superhuman façade is chosen, which is indicative of deep-seated insecurity and other tendencies that are problematic. In other cases, probably in most cases, it is imposed.

What I find most endearing about the apostle Paul was his ability to be himself, to write from his heart and from his experience. Unusual as it was for an ancient writer to be that forthcoming, to summon forth his subjectivity in such an immediate way, this is exactly what enables scholars to identify the seven letters he wrote, either by his own hand or by dictating to a scribe. To understate it, Paul was passionate. As followers of the One who for our sakes underwent his Passion, this strikes me as singing in the correct key.

Late in his life, while out to dinner with my Mom, my Dad, who was not prone to ask these kinds of questions, asked her, "Did your life turn out better or worse than you thought it would?" Being my Mom, she turned the question back on him without answering. He replied: "Oh, way better."

The perfect traditio for this first (Fri)day of March is The Sundays "Here's Where the Story Ends."

I would be utterly remiss not to point out that today is the traditional feast of St. David of Wales, or Dewi Sant. Dewi Sant stands as one of the great Celtic saints. Several years ago, I posted something for his feast: "Dewi Sant- St David of Wales."