Unum Est Necessarium

Fear in the Air by R. L. Drake

Pope John Paul II spoke often about the “Culture of Death.” He was, of course, speaking of a reality that displays itself in more areas than just abortion, though the killing of innocent, helpless life seems to be the pinnacle of the evil fruit of this culture he spoke of.

I would like to examine an underlying theme. What we could refer to as the culture of Fear, perhaps. Most of us don’t do terrible things because we wake up in the morning and rub our hands together, saying with a sneer (picture Snidely Whiplash if you’re old enough to remember), “I think I will do something quite eeeeeviiiil today!!!Mwahahaha!”

A woman does not choose to get an abortion out of a desire to do something evil; she gets an abortion because she is afraid of what she will lose in having the baby. The man is the same.

Fear seems to be quite common today. Of course with the economy, there is a real atmosphere of fear, almost breathable. We know that doctors see an increase in stress/anxiety related symptoms during an economic crisis. But the economy only unmasked an underlying, pervasive fear that was taking hold already, under the surface of the seemingly calm waters.

Fear of commitment has destroyed countless marriages. Fear of losing one’s quality of living has driven many to sacrifice good for money, even needed time with spouses and children. Fear of being alone has drawn people into sexual sin, and created unthinkable brokenness in relationships. Fear of the crosses in our lives drives us to all sorts of addictions and behaviors that diminish our ability to love.

 Jesus said “Do not be afraid. (cf. Lk 5:10)” The Bible uses variations of the phrase, some say, 365 times (interesting, isn’t it—- what could the Lord be trying to tell us?). Fear disables us. It prevents us from stepping forth in faith. And only in faith can we truly love. Bold love, the kind that makes a difference, the kind that renews and redeems, that dies to self for the good of the other, and is noble and beautiful and so desperately needed today, is rooted in trust of God, our dear Father. When I trust in Him, when I confidently put myself into His hands, I can walk boldly in love because perfect love casts out all fear (cf. 1 Jn 4:18). Faith formation, the formation of the heart and mind in the Faith, equips our children (and us) to do just this. Because the more we learn of this amazing God, the more we realize He is trustworthy. He can be counted on. He is our salvation. When the rug of life seems to be yanked from underneath us, we know that God alone is our hope. And that’s a gift that far surpasses any material good you could ever hope to give to your children. 

The Practice of Reality by R.L. Drake

Meaningless sex. Violence. Attitude. Hatefulness. Vulgarity. A general lack of civility. A mocking of virtue. Our culture seems intoxicated with sensual pleasure, so much so that it seems to have lost a certain capacity for tasting the true joy that comes from depth of experience of the meaningful. In his first epistle, St. John wrote, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world passes away, and the lust of it, but he who does the will of God abides forever. (1Jn. 2:15-17)” It sometimes seems that there are “worldly” forces out there set to mislead and corrupt our children at earlier and earlier ages.

We must remember when St. John speaks of “the world,” he isn’t referring to God’s creation but rather to the forces and philosophies that are hostile to God and His kingdom. These things are disordered; they bring chaos and destroy the peace that comes from fidelity to God. For instance, we have as a culture tasted the bitter, rotten fruit of promiscuity, the misuse of our sexuality which is a gift from God. We have seen our children fall prey at younger and younger ages to our culture’s disordered embrace of lifestyles and attitudes contrary to God’s plan for the family so much so that we begin to worry and fret over our children before they even reach middle school.

There is, unfortunately, no insurance policy to be taken out against the disease of secular humanism which displaces God and puts the human being at the center of the universe and leaves its ravages upon the minds and hearts of our children. But what is apparent is that we have a responsibility to “practice reality” and teach our children to practice it as well. To practice reality is to live in harmony with truth. The fundamental truth is that we are made in the image and likeness of God. In a culture that demeans the dignity of the human person across the board, it is essential that we raise our children with an awareness of their dignity. We have to teach them through example that truth, goodness, and beauty are to be sought after—- not sentimentality, banality, and “niceness.” We have to raise the bar for our children and teach them to appreciate the things that truly matter. Recently our volunteer youth leader challenged the teens, “For every situation and decision you have to make, you should be asking yourself, ‘Will this help me on my journey to heaven?’” That’s a great challenge that will help lead us to the appreciation of what is truly true, good, and beautiful, which will lead us to God, the Source of all Truth, Goodness and Beauty. 

Compartmentalized Catholicism by R. L. Drake

Recently Archbishop Charles Chaput of the Archdiocese of Denver gave a talk in which he addressed the state of catechesis. Catechesis is the passing on of the Tradition of the Faith. If you read the New Testament Book of Acts you will find the model of the Church as lived by the first Christians. “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread (Eucharist) and the prayers. (Acts 2:42 NRSV)” We are formed in our faith. But we are also formed by the influence of secular culture.

Archbishop Chaput decries the influence our secular culture has had on us in areas such as the dignity of human life and marriage. Many Catholics buy into the secularism that denies certain immutable truths of the Catholic faith living a sort of compartmentalized Catholicism that participates in certain parts of the faith while denying others. We see this with Catholic political figures that shamefully scandalize the Church by open dissent from essential Catholic teachings.

Archbishop Chaput points out that many other Catholics simply operate out of a lack of understanding of the doctrines we profess. It’s not that they are maliciously denying Catholic truths, but often they simply don’t understand the Catholic position on certain moral issues. This is when you get Catholics who see know harm in advocating for so-called “gay marriage,” for instance. Without a fundamental understanding of the Catholic doctrines concerning marriage and family, they fail to see why the Church affirms with conviction that true marriage may only be lived in the context of a male and female relationship.

The bishop advocates for better catechesis, for a more effective handing on of the truths of the Faith. He reminds us, “We can’t share what we don’t have. If we’re embarrassed about Church teachings, or if we disagree with them, or if we’ve decided that they’re just too hard to live by, or too hard to explain, then we’ve already defeated ourselves. We really need to believe what we claim to believe. We need to stop calling ourselves ‘Catholic’ if we don’t stand with the Church in her teachings—- all of them. But if we really are Catholic, or at least if we want to be, then we need to act like it with obedience and zeal and a fire for Jesus Christ in our hearts. God gave us the faith in order to share it. This takes courage. It takes a deliberate dismantling of our own vanity. When we do that, the Church is strong. When we don’t, she grows weak. It’s that simple. In a culture of confusion, the Church is our only reliable guide. So let’s preach and teach our Catholic beliefs with passion. And let’s ask God to make us brave enough to follow our faith to its radical conclusions.” 

“On Shaggy Beards, Worn Flannel, and Funny Stories, and, Oh Yeah, Lent” by R. L. Drake

Recently I had lunch with a young man whom I respect very much as a devoted lover of God and deep pray-er, and we talked of many things, but mostly we talked of the will of God, and more precisely, the discernment of His will.

He had asked me in recent days, “What is your will?” I thought about it and at our lunch meeting I shared, “My will is to go live off the beaten track in some rural Midwestern town, grow a long beard, wear flannel shirts and jeans, pray a lot, eat hearty meals at a giant wood table with my wife and many children and grandchildren while we laugh and tell funny stories, and maybe teach religion at a tiny Catholic Church while I support my family through writing and drawing children’s books.” I was embarrassed to say that, but it was the truth. That is the life I see myself living and it seems far from the life I live today.

In today’s Gospel, our Lord makes some serious demands on us: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake, he will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself? (Lk 9:23-25)” At Mass I was thinking about that: what do I have to die to in order to live?

I don’t think God would have me die to that which leads me into deeper union with Him, of course, or helps me live my primary vocation fully and with integrity. Instead, I think I am called to die to the falseness in me, the part of me that denies God and Goodness because of its attachment to the passions and the pleasures of life, the part of me that desires to possess God’s creation rather than love with a detached, well-ordered charity.

In the Intercessions for Morning Prayer today we prayed, “Teach us to enter more deeply into the mystery of the Church, that it may be more effective for ourselves and for the world as the sacrament of salvation.”  It is in this entering more deeply into the mystery of the Church that we are drawn out of ourselves, out of our vanity and inordinate self-love, and into the Beauty (in the truest sense of the word) of the Divine. Our Orthodox brothers and sisters call the celebration of the Holy Eucharist the Divine Liturgy. This is a good reminder that what we celebrate is Divine, transcendent. When we draw near to God He draws near to us (see Jas 4:8).

I don’t know that it is the Lord’s will that I go live as a shaggy artist in a farmhouse with a multitude of children yanking on my faded flannel shirt, but I can see His will in that image: it is an image of withdrawing from the busyness that suffocates us and confuses us with its noise; it is a call to solitude of heart; a call to intentional relationship with God; a call to communion of family rather than a frenzied “sharing of quarters;” it is a call to pass on the faith (catechesis); it is a call to sanity, to use Frank Sheed’s term for the living in and experiencing of reality. It is, ultimately, a call to prayer and communion.

I believe God’s will is found in gazing at the Person of Jesus Christ, who said that his food was to do the will of the Father (see Jn 4:34). Jesus Christ is the will of the Father. In entering more deeply into this mystery, I discover God’s will for my life, because I am then not simply doing His will, but living in His will.

On this day, the day after Ash Wednesday, it is good to reflect on this, the dying to self that Jesus calls us to, and to the invitation to enter more deeply into the mystery of the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ. Again, quoting the Intercessions for the Liturgy of the Hours, “May our hearts thirst for Christ, the fountain of living water.” It is in discovering within ourselves this thirst that we recognize His thirst for us, a thirst that may only be quenched through union, through prayer and self-denial for love of the other. May this Lent be a time that we enter more deeply into the mystery of salvation, and so discover the Lord’s will for our lives.

“When the Sheep Stray” by R. L. Drake

Is there anything like that kick-in-the-gut feeling when a Catholic parent discovers that the adult child has strayed from the faith, or worse, rejected it altogether in favor of the pagan gods of relativism, secular humanism, agnosticism or atheism, and ultimately, self? All human beings worship a god of some sort; perhaps a few on this weary planet worship the God Who has revealed Himself, but if we are honest with ourselves, many more seem to bow the knee to the lords of the world. Even those of us who do indeed worship at the altar of the Eucharistic Sacrifice must admit that we fall into idolatry from time to time: money, excess, fear, selfishness, and so on. But we do know where the real bread is; we just find ourselves enticed by junk food sometimes. Thank God for His mercy and for the Sacrament of Penance!

But for those with adult children who have taken the wide road of disbelief or agnosticism in rejection of their Baptismal identity, there is little solace in this past Sunday’s reading (the sixth Sunday in Ordinary time): “Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his arm, whose heart turns away from the Lord. He is like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see any good come. He shall dwell in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land. (Jer 17:5-6 RSV)”

The Scripture goes on to proclaim the blessedness of the one who trusts in the Lord. That one is like a tree planted by water (see Psalm 1, also). The contrast is vivid and frankly, alarming. As one who has lived both realities, as a shrub in the desert, and, by the grace of God Most High, a tree by water, I marvel at how true are the words that describe the conditions of the shrub and tree. A parent cannot help but be heart-stricken at the thought of a child intentionally choosing the life of the shrub, languishing in the desert, while the water is so close by.

We were made to run on grace. When gasoline prices were at their highes in the not-too-distant past, I could easily have said, “I am sick and tired of paying these prices to run my car! I’m going to use an alternate fuel. I could buy a gallon of milk for less. Or better, why not water?” And if I had brilliantly proceeded to put the hose nozzle into my tank, and filled it up with water from the side of my house, what would have happened? It would have been disastrous! My car was made to run on gasoline. Anything else will damage it, and perhaps even “kill” the engine.

As People of faith we know the necessity of grace, and of religion. Unfortunately there are many in the relativistic world who claim, “I am spiritual, not religious.” The word religion’s root meaning is to be in relationship, to be bound to. Or they will say, “I don’t do organized religion.” As the priest pointed out this morning at Mass, of course it’s organized. It was organized by Jesus Christ! Imagine a man telling a woman, “I want to be in relationship with you, but certainly not bound to you, or responsible to you, and I want to be free to do whatever I want. I don’t want to be tied down permanently. But I still want a relationship.” Oh yes, that’s cohabitation! But anyway, when we take this attitude in respect to a relationship with the Deity, can we really believe He’s not simply incredulous at our arrogance and brazenness?

So, the Catholic parent of an adult child who has estranged himself or herself from the faith is faced with a terrible reality, and left with deep sadness. St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine, pray for us! But we must take up the attitude of the second person described in Sunday’s first reading, the blessed one who put his or her trust in the Lord. For that one is like a tree planted by water. Its roots are deep and it does not fear when the heat comes. Even in drought its leaves remain green and it bears much fruit.

We must take solace in the words of Christ Himself, in describing the Love of God: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. (Lk 15:3-5)” God will not abandon His children to the wolves. We must pray for the softening of their hearts, and for their protection from the darkness of evil, and trust in God that He will seek what is lost