"Why do you come here?": Dispatch from distraction

I've always been amused by the phrase employed by would-be writers (of which I am one), "finding my voice." Whenever I think about that phrase in reference to myself I have to admit I find it reductive, smacking of just the kind of thing I want to avoid: hardening of my creative, intellectual, and spiritual arteries. I hope to continue to be awed by wonder and to let the object determine the method. Like most people these days, however, I suffer from distraction and diffusion of my mental and spiritual energies, such as they are, meaning not all that great form the beginning. Whatever I write bears the scars of this psychic disfiguration.

Diffusion and distraction are largely the result of the my overuse, my often compulsive use, of social media. I know, I know, blogs count as social media. But for me blogging is different because, unlike Facebook, Twitter, G+, and the like, I am able to post something and walk away and not wait around for a like, a comment, a share, etc., those dopamine-inducing, or infuriating replies that prompt an immediate reactive response to whatever I may throw out at any given moment. Sure I will check to see if anyone reads what I post, but far less than I used to. Beginning last fall and moving forward to the tenth anniversary of this blog, I was able to reconnect with my original intent in starting this endeavor, something rather modest: to create a weblog, a kind of on-line diary composed of more or less thoughtful compositions, not raw impressions, like a personal diary might contain.

Based on: Hotel Room, by Edward Hopper (1931). Photo: Kim Dong-kyu from New York magazine

Last Sunday, a Benedictine monk drew my attention to a recent article by Andrew Sullivan published in New York magazine: "I Used to Be a Human Being." I commend this piece to you the way it was commended to me- find some quiet time, a quiet place, and read it. Sullivan's recounting of his personal struggle and the more general insights it yields about the impact of the internet (do we still use that term?- "web" is probably better because it's something we get caught in), particularly social media, on us individually and collectively are well-worth your time and consideration. One thing Sullivan discusses is how on-line activities impeded his ability to relate to others, those actually, as opposed to virtually, in his life, or even just to sit and read a book. One observation worth passing along is:

If the churches came to understand that the greatest threat to faith today is not hedonism but distraction, perhaps they might begin to appeal anew to a frazzled digital generation. Christian leaders seem to think that they need more distraction to counter the distraction. Their services have degenerated into emotional spasms, their spaces drowned with light and noise and locked shut throughout the day, when their darkness and silence might actually draw those whose minds and souls have grown web-weary. But the mysticism of Catholic meditation — of the Rosary, of Benediction, or simple contemplative prayer — is a tradition in search of rediscovery. The monasteries — opened up to more lay visitors — could try to answer to the same needs that the booming yoga movement has increasingly met

Another piece I ran across this morning is also worth passing along- Kim Nicolini's post "Long Drive Home." I have to admit that her experience is very different from own. I mention this because I don't want to co-opt what she has to say, or falsely identify her experience as my own. Maybe it's because her experience is so different from mine than it resonated deeply with me. I don't want to put a Pollyanna spin on her hard-hitting piece (her powerful punches need to be felt, let her hit you), but I am glad she ended by writing about the Glen Hansard concert she attended. Listening to Hansard's songs caused Nicolini to reflect:

Glen Hansard reminded me that despite the ugliness of politics, I don’t have to own them or let them ugly up my life. The human creative spirit is beyond politics and debates. We can make music, art, and poetry. We can dance and love. We can hold onto our inner shining stars because if you are not One Of Those Other Motherfuckers, then you have an inner shining soul. I have mine. It’s vulnerable. It’s been through a hell of a lot in this lifetime. I’m going to do my best to take care of it until I reach retirement, so I don’t drop dead two weeks later but can actually maybe spend the majority of my senior years doing things I love to do rather than things I have to do

This is the part where I am supposed to add my own deep reflection in some kind of meta-attempt to synthesize and maybe one-up both Sullivan and Nicolini. The truth is I can't and so I am not going to try. Instead, I will share some more thoughts refracted through my recent struggle with distraction.

Books I am currently reading

Currently I am reading a stack of books. Apart from three- Robin Ryan's Jesus & Salvation I am reading for our local monthly theology group, Tolkien's Fellowship of the Ring I am reading with my 11 year-old son, and Gary Macy's The Hidden History of Women's Ordination I am reading as research for my DMin dissertation and a lecture I have been asked to give on the diaconate in March of next year, I am reading the rest just 'cuz. Due to time wasted going down what Sullivan called the "rabbit holes" of the web, especially in the midst of this horror of an election, which Nicolini had the courage to describe in a manner that I can't bring myself to employ (I am ecstatic she can and does), I am not having much success in finishing these books. While I hope to post here more regularly, my presence on more interactive, reactive, distracting social media will be greatly reduced. In fact, apart from putting up what I post here, I plan to be absent from Facebook, Twitter, and G+ for the entire month of October. During this time I hope to detox and limit my future participation to what is meaningful.

Someone named Douglas V. Steere began his introduction to Image Books' 1989 paperback edition of Pater Tom's Contemplative Prayer with a quote by William Blake: "we are put on earth for a little space that we may bear the beams of love." Lest this, too, be mistaken as an attempt to dress in drag and play Pollyanna, Steere went on to note that Blake's take on human life, in addition to being an apt description of "Thomas Merton's account of monastic prayer," is a "firm reminder of how much remains to be done to prepare man to bear the 'beams of love.'" While we long to be exposed to love's beams, Steere noted, we "fear" love's "transforming power." I don't think it's any great insight to note that since 1989 we've not done much, if anything, to prepare ourselves to bear love's illuminating beams. Rather, I think we've become increasingly intent on seeking out and content to live in the shadows.

Our fear of love's transforming power is what David Bentley Hart took aim at in his recent Commonweal article, "Christ's Rabble: The First Christians Were Not Like Us." Summarizing towards the end his piece, Hart pointed out:

Throughout the history of the church, Christians have keenly desired to believe that the New Testament affirms the kind of people we are, rather than—as is actually the case—the kind of people we are not, and really would not want to be. The first, perhaps most crucial thing to understand about the earliest generations of Christians is that they were a company of extremists, radical in their rejection of the values and priorities of society not only at its most degenerate, but often at its most reasonable and decent

I don't mind mentioning that yesterday I purchased tickets to see Morrissey here in Salt Lake City the day after my birthday at the new Eccles Theater in downtown Salt Lake. Somehow one of the songs off Morrissey's first solo album, Viva Hate, with which he has been opening most of his recent shows, "Suedehead," seems fitting for what might be an early tradito (we'll see). Below is a live performance from earlier this month in Chicago at RiotFest:

One last distracting thought; today is the Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, Archangels. Sanctus Archangeli, orate pro nobis!

Year C Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Amos 6:1a.4-7; Ps 146:7-10; 1 Tim 6:11-16; Luke 16:19-31

Through these weeks of Ordinary Time, we continue our journey in St. Luke’s Gospel with Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. The word “Ordinary” in “Ordinary Time” does not mean ho-hum. It is not used to contrast it with “extraordinary time,” such as Easter, Christmas, Lent and Advent. It is derived from the word ordinal. Ordinal refers to the position of something in a series. During Ordinary Time we track time by the series of Sundays with reference to the beginning of the liturgical year.

Reckoning all of time as if it were a week, going from Sunday to Sunday, early Christians conceived of Sunday as both the first and last day. During Easter we celebrate an octave that begins on Easter Sunday and ends on the Second Sunday of Easter, which, since the decree of Pope St. John Paul II in the Jubilee year 2000, Roman Catholics observe as Divine Mercy Sunday. The Eighth Day is the new and everlasting day of eternity, the day made possible by God's mercy. This bears noting because today Jesus draws our attention to what matters in light of our destiny: mercy. We are in the midst of the Jubilee of Mercy, which continues until the Feast of Christ the King, which we will observe on 20 November.

“If they did not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead” (Luke 16:31). In the immediate context of this statement Jesus is referring to the brothers of the dead rich man who requests father Abraham to send Lazarus, who is also dead, to tell them to repent by caring for the poor, by being merciful. In other words, it is part of the parable. But this statement, which brings the parable to its close, also points the listener beyond the parable to Jesus’ own great act of mercy, his resurrection, which had not yet happened.

In a similar way it points us not only to Jesus’ resurrection, which has already occurred, but to his return in glory. Christ’s glorious return is fundamental to Christian faith. The indispensable nature of our belief in Christ’s glorious return is demonstrated by our professing each Sunday when we recite the Creed: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.” In light of this we, too, must heed what the Scriptures teach: "For the judgment is merciless to one who has not shown mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment" (James 2:13)

Proof we believe Christ is risen and will return to definitively establish his kingdom can only be given by how we live our lives. This is not to put anyone on defensive by warning you of the coming wrath or anything like that, it’s just to say that ultimately God’s kingdom will consist only of those who seek to live it as a present reality- we call such people saints- and not as a dream deferred, that is, something that will happen later which doesn’t merit our concern right now.

Neither am I suggesting that anyone other than Christ himself will definitively bring about God’s reign. The Incarnation marked the beginning of God’s reign on the earth. In, through, and with Christ, by the power of the Spirit, God’s reign has begun and continues until it is complete. We’re either about ushering it in or not. In other words, we shouldn’t be like the rich man or his brothers demanding some spectacular sign to warn us what will happen if we refuse to make God’s reign a present reality by acting mercifully after the manner of the Good Samaritan.

Through this parable, Jesus draws our attention to what is ultimate by pointing to what is right in front of us. Lazarus sat at the rich man’s gate every day. The rich man did not deem Lazarus worthy of his attention, let alone of his help. At least in his own mind, the rich man had much more important things than to show mercy to the poor, disgusting man whose sores were licked by dogs. As he found out, there was nothing more important than showing the beggar mercy, which is why he begged Abraham, in whose bosom Lazarus received succor, to send Lazarus to warn his brothers to avoid the same hard-hearted callousness. Abraham reminds him that his brothers had the writings of Moses and the prophets to teach them the necessity of acting mercifully.

One prophet who the rich man and his brothers would’ve been wise to heed was Amos. His oracles, through which God sought to call Israel back to fidelity with the covenant, especially by acting mercifully towards widows, orphans, and foreigners among them, were every bit as radical as Jesus’ teaching. In our first reading, Amos tells the wealthy who pay no attention to the plight of the less fortunate that they will be “the first to go into exile” (Amos 6:7).

Our reading from 1 Timothy urges us to prepare for Christ’s return by keeping “the commandment without stain or reproach” (1 Tim 6:14). What is “the commandment”? The commandment is love, caritas, or charity; loving God with all your heart might, mind, and strength. How do you love God with your entire being? By loving your neighbor as you love yourself. In the verse that precedes the first verse of our reading from the sixth chapter of 1 Timothy it is written, “the love of money is the root of all evils” (1 Tim 6:10). It goes on to say that love of money was the cause of some believers straying from the faith. As a result, they were “pierced with many pains” (1 Tim 6:10). The rich man in Jesus’ parable is an example of this. Not one to pull punches himself, Pope Francis, during his Apostolic Journey to Bolivia last year, said the “unfettered pursuit of money” is the “dung of the devil.” As we prepare to receive communion, let’s not forget we come as beggars to the King’s table where he unfailingly has mercy on us.

Today Jesus invites us, as his disciples, to place our hope in him, who is Divine Mercy, by acting mercifully towards others. Practicing the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, which are depicted in the windows along the north side of our church, is our road to destiny.

For love of country and neighbor

It occurred to me this morning that I haven't been posting much recently. Shortly after thinking that I came across an article that provoked me into a response: "Bobby Knight says if it were up to him, he'd 'have gotten rid of' Colin Kaepernick." My first reaction was, "But instead two universities, Indiana and Texas Tech, wisely chose to get rid of Bobby Knight."

Knight's method of coaching basketball consisted mainly of bullying, insulting, and intimidating players. His coaching method should've landed him in prison. I am not engaging in hyperbole. On more than one occasion Knight criminally assaulted players. He frequently and consistently made an ass of himself. In my mind he is the antithesis of everything sports, especially collegiate sports: is supposed to be about, excellence and character. I guess forced retirement (after Texas Tech fired him) hasn't changed him a bit. Colin Kaepernick has certainly demonstrated more character than Bobby Knight.

I am a veteran who served in a few theaters of combat over the course of my service. I am fine with what Colin Kaepernick and other NFL players are doing this season to draw attention to the problem of systemic racism that persists in our country. In my view, their peaceful protest is one of the things that makes the United States of America the United States of America. Would I do it? No, but it doesn't mean I seek to deny others their right to peacefully protest. For his part, Kaepernick has been more than respectful of those who have registered their disapproval of his protest, as his meeting in San Diego with Army veteran Nate Boyer demonstrates. Boyer, to give him due credit, also showed how we can disagree respectfully.

Let's face the fact that we do have racial problems in this country. Frankly, neither of the major party candidates for president have the credibility or any effective way to address our racial divide. Trump's not so understated racism might prove to be the flint that sparks the dry tinder. For her part, Clinton in the past did more than her fair share to paint all young black men as dangerous and likely criminals.

Not only does love of country not preclude being critical of one's country, from time to time it requires one to be critical. As a citizen of the United States I believe loving my country enough to sometimes be critical is precisely what it means to be patriotic, which for too many seems to equate to being idiotic. I am sometimes critical of my country because I love my country. I have the service to prove my love. If you want to question my patriotism, you'd better pack a lunch.

It's funny to me how so many of the people who are harshing on Kaepernick were sympathetic to Cliven and Ammon Bundy and the Oregon mob who seized a wildlife refuge threatening the use of deadly force, which was not a peaceful protest, but a half-assed attempt at an armed insurrection by a self-selected group of dangerous radicals who took it upon themselves to violently make federal land policy for everyone else. This disjunction- castigating Kaeprnick on one hand and supporting the Bundys on the other- really shows systemic nature of racial division in the U.S.A.

"We were rising from the grave"

In a recent interview with Kate Shellnutt for Christianity Today, John Darnielle, of indie band The Mountain Goats, when asked what his life verse might be, replied: "Most people are going to be from the Gospels or from the Proverbs or Psalms... but mine is 'Should I not pity also Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than' - I can't remember the number, however many hundreds of thousands of people - 'who cannot tell their right hand from their left and also much cattle' (Jonah 4:11)." That is the very last verse of the book.

He continued, "To me, this is the greatest verse. I love Jonah. And it's a very profound question God asks Jonah. Because God is saying, 'You wish ill on your enemies. If you [say you] don't wish ill on your enemies, I'm going to call you a liar. You do. If you have an actual enemy, you want harm to come to him.' Right?"

Keep in mind, while Nineveh was converted, Jonah was not.

Our Friday traditio is The Mountain Goats' "There Will Be No Divorce."

"Gotta serve somebody"

Readings: Amos 6:4-7; Ps 113: 1-2.4-8; 1 Tim 2:1-8; Luke 16:1-13

At least on the surface, today's Gospel reading seems very complex. But Jesus himself interprets the story for us, demonstrating that it is surprisingly simple. Simple to understand does not mean easy to practice.

The story the Lord tells is about a thief, a dishonest steward. I think the first thing to note is that this story is not an allegory in which the master is God, the Father. The master in the story is cheated from beginning to end, including the arrangement for under-payment the dishonest steward makes with the master's debtors in order to ingratiate himself to them so he didn't have to dig or beg after being dismissed. Notice, in the end, the master does not rescind his steward's dismissal.

We are easily confused by the master's commendation of the steward for acting prudently and with foresight. The steward's prudence and foresight, however, consisted solely of looking out for himself at the expense of his master, which seems to be the reason he was dismissed in the first place. In the end, the master is happy that the dishonest steward will no longer have charge of his commercial affairs.

This is a story that does not lend itself nicely to telling a story about a story, which often serves to obfuscate rather than reveal. We need find out what Jesus, the greatest storyteller and preacher all of time, God-in-the-flesh, is saying to us. Our first reading from the prophet Amos gives us a clue.

What Jesus tells his disciples, as they continue to make their way to Jerusalem, is that they should act with the same prudence and foresight in looking out for their future as did the dishonest steward. But the way to do this is by being children of the light, not children of darkness, The dishonest steward is a child of darkness who acts with a divided heart out of split loyalty. According to Jesus, the children of darkness know how to act shrewdly towards one another, looking out for themselves, acting with what we might call street smarts. Nonetheless, Jesus tells his disciples they must make friends with dishonest, or worldly, wealth so that when it fails them, as it inevitably will, they will have eternal life.

Contrary to the way the dishonest steward acted (i.e., dishonestly, looking out only for himself by cheating his master coming and going), how the children of light make friends with dishonest wealth is by not putting it first and not allowing themselves to be compromised by it, but acting in an upright and honest manner, keeping their destiny always in the forefront of their minds. Jesus is forthright when he says "No servant can serve two masters." It's impossible and inevitably leads to compromises. As Kierkegaard noted, Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing.

The way to make friends with dishonest wealth is to act honestly and uprightly, being trustworthy, knowing who you serve. As Bob Dylan sang: "You Gotta Serve Somebody."

"And he's talking bout' burnin' but I'm so cold "

Recently there has been a dust-up on the internet concerning the Catholic Church's teaching on the death penalty. Over the past 30-40 years the Church has increasingly backed away from the death penalty, insisting that it is rarely justified and is only justified by the state's inability to protect it citizenry in any other way.

The problem with discussing the morality of things like the death penalty is the penchant to wander wildly off topic. Given the important distinctions that need to made when Catholics discuss the death penalty, it's best to focus on the subject at hand.

I oppose the death penalty on theological grounds in conformity with the Church's teaching as contained in the Catechism of the Catholic Church and the teaching of recent popes going back to at least John Paul II. According to the Catechism-

Today, in fact, as a consequence of the possibilities which the state has for effectively preventing crime, by rendering one who has committed an offense incapable of doing harm- without definitely taking away from him the possibility of redeeming himself- the cases in which the execution of the offender is an absolute necessity "are very rare, if not practically non-existent" (par. 2267)

I readily acknowledge that when the death penalty is handed down and carried out when the person executed is actually guilty of the serious/egregious crime s/he has committed, there is no moral equivalency between that and the taking of an innocent life. The fact that it is not morally equivalent to the taking of an innocent surely demonstrates that the death penalty is not necessarily intrinsically evil.

But one of the proven problems with the death penalty, at least in the U.S. and I imagine in other countries that still have it, is the fact it is sometimes ordered for a person who is later proven innocent. This penchant for injustice alone should give anyone pause, even someone who supports the death penalty in principle.

Perhaps most fundamental is the question whether or not seeking retribution is fitting for a disciple of Jesus Christ. I find it to be a remnant of the lex talionis, which holds to an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. Other factors include whether trying minors as adults is just and whether people with proven developmental disabilities should be executed.

Based on this, it's safe to assert that unqualified support for the death penalty does contribute to the culture of death, thus denying unqualified supporters pro-life status.

My own opposition to the death penalty pre-dates my baptism. It began when I read Orwell's short story A Hanging in high school.

For me, I don't care whether or not one can claim formal support for the death penalty in the Church's teaching or whether the Church made support for the death penalty irreformable and so now even the pope can only offer opinions. Sometimes it's the irreformable that stands badly in need of reformulation. When faith is reduced to a cold exercise of logic is it still faith the flower of which is hope and the fruit love?

At root, forgiveness means freely relinquishing a just claim against another.

Given the subject, our Friday traditio is the Man in Black singing "25 Minutes To Go," sung live at Folsom Prison and animated.

9/11 15 years on, a sobering memory

Today we soberly observe the fifteenth anniversary of a horrific event that changed the world and not for the better. While people in the U.S. responded remarkably in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, long term 9/11 has been a source of fragmentation and disunity. The result of this is being made manifest in an explicit way in this year's presidential election.

I reluctantly admit that I am suspicious of the "never forget" motto, which I am sure is now a popular hashtag. Of course we should never forget what happened that day, we should especially remember those who died so horribly. But if our remembrance is aimed at making us perpetually bellicose, intent on carrying out in perpetuity the lex talionis, then maybe we're better off forgetting. Instead, let's remember how we pulled together during trying times.

Fifteen years on I think it bears asking whether our long term response has made things better or worse. In this morning's Wall Street Journal, former vice president Dick Cheney, one of the architects of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, asserts that "Dangers Rise as America Retreats." Is this true? Are we retreating? You could've fooled me. Is war peace?

Personally, I believe we need to be more familiar with the dynamics of radicalization and ask whether our response has created more enemies than it's eliminated. In light of what causes radicalization, as a Catholic, I believe fostering a culture of encounter, as Pope Francis has called on us to do, is a more effective strategy in both the short and long terms. It beats the us versus them approach Donald Trump is urging with regard to Muslims, Latino migrants and others. I reject the politics of divide and conquer, which pretty well summarizes politics as practiced in the U.S. in 2016. You can fear refugees all you want, but shouldn't the sheer number of refugees prompt us to ask why they're fleeing, what they're fleeing? Shouldn't it also cause us to ponder how the reason they're fleeing their homes, which is no less traumatic for them than it would be for you or me, colors their perceptions of the people to whose countries they are flocking.

This week's readings are about mercy, about God's faithfulness, patience, and unfailing tenderness towards us. I am particularly struck by the power of Moses' intercession for his people. If we can't translate that into life as givers and not only as takers, then heaven help us.

May the souls of those killed on 9/11/2001, victims of evil, of man's inhumanity to man, rest in peace. May their memory be eternal. May those who died responding to those in need be rewarded for their sacrifice. May those who still grieve the loss of loved ones be comforted. May those killed fighting for the elimination of terrorism rest in peace. May all the innocents who have been killed in subsequent fighting experience the mercy of God, who is mercy,. Above all, may there be peace on earth.