Accepting Everything, and How to Use It

I know I complain a lot about physical things, and I apologize. Sometimes when I stop doing and "come to the moment," I become conscious of the pain.

It's never gone, but most of the time I can distract myself enough to push awareness aside. Other times, it screams. Right now, it's howling.

My patron, St. Teresa, also complained fairly often in her letters about physical ailments. She suffered from debilitating headaches and relapsing fever. She was so ill at one point that her family took her out of the monastery for a long period of rest and healing.

So I excuse myself for not always shutting up about what hurts by looking to her example. BUT there is a critical difference: No matter how *she* suffers, whether from illness or from the obtuseness of some fellow Catholics, she NEVER FAILS to bless and thank His Majesty.

I *want* to do that, but I forget. I want the nuisances and pain to serve some purpose by being united to the Passion of Christ. Since I can't remember to make the offering each time, I make an intention to give it *all* whenever I think of it, usually by praying the Prayer of Abandonment of Bl. Charles de Foucauld.

Actually, many years ago, I pretty much wrote God a blank check. If it's in my account, it's His if he wants it. It was terrifying to make that offer. I have to say, though, that He has been unfailingly considerate, and all those grand gestures I promised Him have turned out to be mainly just enduring petty annoyances, hurtful words, being misjudged, going without at times, the ordinary strife of daily life.

Even the 24/7 pain is nothing, really. The fact that it can run in the background much of the time means that it's manageable. Real pain was having my fractured ankle reduced. (The fringe benefit of that was that, after surgeries, the morphine drip gives me the only truly pain-free moments I have known in decades. It is not a practical daily means of coping, however. 😊)

Prayer *is* pain management. Communing with God gives meaning to suffering, because it gives meaning to life. Without that connection, I am quite sure I wouldn't still be here. Intercessory prayer, in particular, transforms pain. If I  ask that their suffering be lessened, if I suffer *for* another,  my own pain is thereby tinged with joy. It becomes active, rather than merely passive.

C. S. Lewis, of course, said that pain is God's megaphone for getting our attention. I am clearly tough to reach. So I will keep praying this prayer, thanking God for everything.

But don't be surprised when I kvetch.

PRAYER OF ABANDONMENT

Father, I abandon myself into your hands. Do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you. I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into your hands I commend my spirit. I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father. Amen.

Hermitage Adventures #1

#HermitageAdventures. Yes, it was a microwave in the box. The hugest microwave I have ever seen. It must weigh 40 pounds. Between removing the dead appliance and coaxing the new one into place, I spent the remainder of my strength for the day.

So this morning I am having TWO cups of coffee, courtesy electric kettle. Still no gas, but after digging out an electric skillet and pot, I was able to cook some rice and the hamburger I salvaged from the dead freezer.

Tonight I will make fried rice with the leftovers.

It's HOT today, so outdoor activities wait until evening. Meanwhile, laundry, making the bed with actual sheets, doing the monthly med set, and sending in documentation for the complaint about movers.

May the Blessed Bambina smile on you today!

GOP Convention: My Take of Day One

My takeaway from the GOP convention last night: both touching and surreal. I followed Zane Bardwick's recommendation and watched almost all of the convention last night on C-SPAN, where I wasn't regaled with pundit chatter and the victim of some producer's decisions on which parts to eliminate. As a result, I saw the many "real" Americans, with their moving stories, their accounts of heroism and tragedy and hope, which many times brought me to tears. Perhaps most affecting were the two heroes of Benghazi, describing the horrific events of the terrorist attack, and Sean Smith's mother, who wept as she told of losing her son, and the lies and coverup that followed from Secretary of State Clinton. Most bizarre was her saying that after the attack, no one from the State Department would answer her questions because she was not "immediate family." I'm sure I don't have to tell you parents how deeply that must have cut. I cried along with her. Awesome indeed was the speech by Sheriff David Clarke of Milwaukee County. An impassioned plea for unity, and for support of police, who are our first line of defense against anarchy. I think there should be a Federal post for nationwide law enforcement oversight, but if there were, I'd nominate this guy. The prize for unintentional comedy goes to Melania Trump, whose otherwise fairly creditable performance contained her repeated assurances that Donald is extremely "loyal." Ironic from the third wife of a man whose other marriages ended because of his infidelity. The various politicos were not so arresting. They mostly gave predictable speeches from which I can remember little. The exception was Rudy Giuliani, who did receive multiple standing ovations for his plea to respect both police and military who risk their lives to keep others safe. “When they come to save your life, they don’t ask if you are black or white. They just come to save you,” Giuliani said. The most surreal moment came when Donald Trump arrived to introduce his wife. He stood in silhouette in a blue fog for several seconds while the PA played Queen's "We Are the Champions." Then he emerged from the mist like Merlin in a sword-and-sorcery fantasy pic. It's clear that, if he's elected, press conferences will be dramatic productions. Actually, the entire evening had a surreal quality, since Trump doesn't have the support of most party conservatives. Speaker after speaker praised him, and invoked party unity, but the appeal of those who oppose him was quashed at the outset by the chairman's refusal to hear their call for a point of order. That left opponents of Trump's nomination without even the right to object, a tactic more typical of Democrats than Republicans. The spectacle that followed, with praise heaped upon Trump as the law-and-order candidate, rang rather false.

Words at Steve Young's Memorial Gathering

This is the final version of the brief words I spoke during the candlelight tribute :

Light and Death

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Each of us is here because Steve touched our hearts and our souls. Some of his music was dark, but it was true. Carl Jung said:

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The latter procedure, however, is disagreeable and therefore not popular.”

Like his favorite author, Thomas  Wolfe,  Steve wrote mostly about the past, and its loss. But in the dark night of the soul, pain leads ultimately to light. In the waiting, however, we can be tempted to despair. In his last days, Steve flirted with the nihilistic atheism of Stephen Hawking. Another physicist was probably more accurate in Steve’s case, Edward Teller: “When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.”

Let these candles, as we light them one, represent all the gifts we have received from Steve and his music. From Leonard Cohen:

"Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.”

In the end, I  believe Steve was ready for  death, for the answers to the mystery he had sought all his life. Annie Dillard, in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek writes: “I think that the dying pray at the last not 'please,' but 'thank you,' as a guest thanks his host at the door. Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you. Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest. By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet. There is nothing to be done about it, but ignore it, or see.”

Finally, Steve simply let go and plunged into that mystery. He just let God take him: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness, and to guide our feet into the way of peace."

Like Rosa Maria, we pray for him, in this traditional prayer for the dead:
"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace."

Some quotes on death and light

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The latter procedure, however, is disagreeable and therefore not popular.”
― C.G. Jung

“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.”
― Edward Teller

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.”
― Leonard Cohen

"I think that the dying pray at the last not 'please,' but 'thank you,' as a guest thanks his host at the door. Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you. Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest. By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet. There is nothing to be done about it, but ignore it, or see."

― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace."

"In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace." Luke 1:78

Always Check the Date

I am pained to say that a couple of readers were upset by our last post, thinking it an affront to the Holy Father. I assure you, none was meant. It was merely an April Fool's jest from my all-too-satirical sense of humor. When March ends, always check the dateline of any story. And try to laugh at silliness.

Pope Francis Announces He Will Canonize the Living

Vatican, 4/1/2016---In a move to streamline the Church's procedures for making new saints, Pope Francis will begin canonizing living persons. Although a departure from the customary process, which required proven miracles and a gradual elevation to the honors of the altar, the Holy Father expects his new program to be met with universal approbation. "The new canonizations will incur far less bureaucracy and the expense of prosecuting the cause of a saint," said Father Federico Lombardi, Vatican communications director. "And dropping the requirement that the proposed saint actually be dead will render the process fairer, because it will exclude no one." Instead of a lengthy process carried on my religious communities, bishops, or other elites, the new criteria will speed up the progress by incorporating the latest technology, Lombardi said. "For the first time, the Catholic faithful will have a direct say in who becomes a saint. They will be able to vote in an online poll for their favorite candidate, living or dead," he added. As an expression of ecumenical spirit, non-Catholics will also be allowed to vote. "We are an inclusive Church," Lombardi said, "and we want our feast days to reflect that."

Attraction, Not Promotion

I have often been blunt in my criticisms of slipshod Catholics, even prelates. I don't say the criticisms weren't merited.

But I have recently had occasion to reflect on what drew me into the Church, then, much later, to the traditional Latin Mass.

I came into the Church because it was only there that I found the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ. That made all other arguments irrelevant to me.

The attraction to the Latin Mass was more gradual. I engaged with many online Trads for several years, and what I experienced was denigration of the "novas ordo" and the implication that that worship was inferior or even invalid. Even though I hated liturgical abuse and the silliness I encountered in the 1980s, I reacted defensively to such attacks. I knew that, whatever its deficiencies, any valid Mass offered the true presence of Jesus Christ and the opportunity to receive Him in Holy Communion.

One voice was different. He made no secret of his love for the Latin Mass--he referred to himself as a "knuckle-dragging traditionalist." But he never suggested that I was evil or deluded for attending the Pauline Mass. He sent me a video 📹 of the traditional Mass (since there wasn't one within hundreds of miles of me), along with some Latin devotional materials). Ever gentle, ever respectful.

When I moved to San Diego, I found I had some colleagues who assisted at the Latin Mass (the bishop grudgingly permitted a Sunday Mass in the mausoleum, but no parish activities or weekday Masses). Then one week I was invited to a Mass and talk given by the regional superior of the FSSP. I wanted to hear the talk, so I went to the Mass. That's it. Remote preparation, curiosity, and a simple invitation. No bluntness required.

Later, I had the opportunity to meet Abbot of Fontgombault Dom Antoine Forgeot when he came to Oklahoma to acquire land for the Clear Creek foundation. Most striking were his holiness and humility. I later found the same in all of the founding monks, these men who had undergone a white martyrdom for decades to preserve their traditional Liturgy and Rites. Those qualities have brought them such an abundance of vocations that within scarcely a decade they are already making a second, possibly a third, foundation.

I have often said that the occupational hazard of the apologist is to focus on winning the argument rather than the soul. For the traditionalist, I sometimes think the focus is on being right instead of being loving.

By "loving," of course, I don't mean sentimental or cuddly. I mean wanting the good for another, and humbly offering to help him achieve that good. As I look back on my own conversions, I realize that they were effected by attraction, not argument. I saw someone living his faith deeply, and I wanted what he had.

The question I am forced to ask myself is: If someone witnessed the way I live my faith, would he want what I have? And, if so, would I know how to help him get it?

Selective Outrage from Liberal Historian

I listened to the Fresh Air interview on NPR today. The subject of Adam Cohen's book, the eugenics movement in America, is shocking and tragic. It's one of those medical fashions that make us cringe to recall, like lobotomies and syphilis studies.

I recommend listening to the interview. It elucidates past maltreatment of those considered "undesirable" in the gene pool, both internal and immigrants. Indeed, immigration laws of the 1920s were specifically crafted to eliminate non-Nordic types from entering the country (and reproducing). Homegrown undesirables were often confined to institutions and/or forcibly sterilized. And the laws permitting the latter were upheld, and even recommended by the Supreme Court, 8 to 1. The only dissent was from the lone Catholic on the high Court. Cohen credited Catholics as the *only* group that made an effort to defend such persons at that time.

Therefore, I was dumbfounded, as I  listened, that he made absolutely no reference in the entire interview to Planned Parenthood or its founder, Margaret Sanger, who was prominent in the eugenics movement, and who referred to blacks and other undesirables as "human weeds" who must be eradicated. Her goal was the betterment of the white race by eliminating non-whites' ability to reproduce.

Cohen's omission was even more striking after he quoted the 3,500-year-old Code of Hammurabi, the set of Babylonian precepts that prefigured the Ten Commandments. The purpose of the government, it says, is to protect the weakest members of the culture from the strongest. That, Cohen says, is still the function of law.

Yet he fails to make the connection between the "weakest" citizens and the unborn who are murdered or the newborn who are allowed to die. He sees no relationship between eugenics and the exploitation of the unwanted, and the racist abortion industry committing genocide. He makes no mention of the selling of baby parts or the adoption of horrific techniques to take living organs from still-living fetuses.

Cohen gives a list of shameful Supreme Court decisions, going back to Dred Scott, which failed to uphold the rights of the helpless against the more powerful. But utter silence on Roe v. Wade, the one decision that will ultimately be seen as the most horrifying of all, the decision that condemned 55 million innocent Americans to death. No mention of that travesty of justice, or the heroic role of the Catholic Church in decrying it.

No, Cohen rather takes a swipe at the late Justice Antonio Scalia, whom he accuses of championing the causes of the strong against the weak.

I was left speechless and angry, not only at Cohen's glaring bias, but at host Terri Gross's negligence in failing to confront him on the omissions. Extremely disappointing, NPR. I hope you will give equal coverage and equally softball questions to a representative of the prolife position. I would be delighted to furnish names.

Ready for the Second Coming?

A commenter on a recent post declared that the Lord was "the biggest progressive/liberal in history," and asked, "Are you ready for the Second Coming?" This was essentially my reply: Jesus was a progressive, in that he challenged the Jews of his culture to see the Almighty in a new way, and to integrate the demands of Law with those of Love. He was not "progressive" in the contemporary sense of seeking greater and greater civil authority over people, He didn't say, "Sell all your neighbor has and give to the poor." He didn't advocate for immorality, corruption, or covetousness; he said, "Go and sin no more." The progressives of *his* day are more comparable to the money-changers he drove from the Temple. Yes, Jesus was a radical, in the original sense of the term (radix = root). He calls us to return to our true roots, union with and obedience to Almighty God. Politics have zero to do with it. He said to pay your taxes, obey secular laws unless sinful, and pray for civil rulers. A simple program for political life. In a democratic republic, we have the additional obligation to vote and to support just laws. But the earth is not our home; it's a bus station waiting room, complete with characters. Hell, yes, I am ready for the Parousia! I will turn 70 this month; not many do-overs left for me, so I commend myself to the mercy of God and pray for a holy death. The Lord will come, for me at least, relatively soon. Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!

Monarchy or Republic?

There's no question that a democratic Republic can be tyrannical, corrupt, and ultimately self-destructive. It is subject to all the effects of original sin. However, in a republic there is always a remedy for abuse short of regicide. Yes, huge governments are unwieldy and inherently unjust. That's why I am passionate about states' rights an an agrarian culture. The fundamental unit of government is the county, and as far as possible things should be run from there, with recourse to state or federal governments only when a task is too great for the county. And that's precisely the system our Founders established. In much of America, that's still how it works. Most of the faults in our Republic stem from the usurpation of local powers solidified after the Civil War. Can there be injustice in a local government? Certainly. We're still dealing with fallen human nature. But it seems to me that governance, overall, is bound to be fairer if the governor has to face the governed daily, to sit by them in church or see them in Walmart. Some young idealists yearn for a return to monarchy. Taken as a whole, though, I believe the average citizen in a democratic republic is better served, freer, and more prosperous than in a monarchy. I think this has been true throughout history, with the possible exception of the monastic system in the Middle Ages. Then the abbots ruled large swaths of farmland, and the farmers who worked there were fairly, even kindly, treated and could avoid contact with the secular government for the most part. The worst injustice they faced was taxation by greedy monarchs to finance wars and lavish homes. Now, many feel that our democratic system isn't working any longer. Elections are riddled with fraud, candidates are limited by lack of money, and tyrannical political correctness, and the courts have arrogated rights never envisioned by the Founders. But at least we can *change* this system to reflect the common will. Through elections, Constitutional amendments, litigation, as well as simply speaking out, we *do* have the power to alter the polity.

When yarn says "I love you"

Afghans. We still have afghans crocheted by my grandmother, who lived to be 103. She continued crocheting long after she was unable to walk and her eyesight was failing. If someone would start her on a color, she could proceed by touch.

I've only made a few afghans in my life. Crafts R not us.  But each one I made was a special labor of love. When I was separated from my son for the first time, I did an oversized "Indian blanket" Afghan in brilliant hues, which I sent with the note: "A big, colorful afghan for my big, colorful kid." I think it made both of us happy.

Today, it needs a little repair--some loose ends--but it pleases me that, of all his possessions that have come and gone over the past 25 years, he still has this one.  ❤

Cor Sacratissima, miserere nobis!

Traditionally, the month of June is dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that so human heart that loved, rejoiced, wept, and suffered as Christ lived His earthly life, and which finally was pierced by the soldier's spear as He died on the cross. Scripture tells us that water and blood poured forth from that wound, an image that has nourished countless Christian meditations through the centuries, and which reappears most recently in St. Faustina's representation of Divine Mercy. First popularized by Thirteenth-Century Benedictine Abbess St. Gertrude, the devotion was renewed in modern times the visions of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, a French Visitandine nun, in the Seventeenth Century. It is perhaps not surprising that this focus on the Heart of Christ has been proclaimed primarily through women. Although it's certainly a facile generalization that men follow their heads, while women follow their hearts, it's true that the gift of empathy seems to be abundantly showered on women. They have been called "the heart of the home," and the glue that binds families--and hence society--together. In Isaiah 40:15-16, God tells us that He loves us with an intense maternal love: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me." Reading this, any mother who has ever nursed a child knows exactly how strong is God's love for us. And although Jesus is God, He is also man, and He loves us, each of us, with the same fond, foolish love a mother feels for her baby. It is this deeply human love that devotion to the Sacred Heart represents. Such love is only one of the perfections of God. He is certainly not "God the Mother." The Sacred Heart shows one aspect of God's nature; He has an infinity of qualities, something not always grasped by non-Christians and some Protestant Christians. The Bible itself gives Him many names, however. When I was in graduate school in Nashville, the Protestant Vatican, I used to keep a holy card on my assigned library carrel of "Jesus Christ, Teacher." You've seen it: JesuIs holding a book open for us to read. One day when I went to the library I found that someone had scratched out "Teacher" and penciled in "Savior." How I wished I could tell that anonymous editor that, yes! He is our Savior. And our Teacher, and our King, and our Redeemer Who paid the price of our sins. So how does devotion to the Sacred Heart fit in today? Does anyone practice it as revealed to St. Margaret Mary? Among other things revealed to her were promises of incredible graces for those who promote this devotion, enthrone an image of the Sacred Heart in their homes, and assist at Mass on nine First Fridays to offer reparation for the insults given to the Lord by sin. Shortly after I became a Catholic in 1980, I did my best to carry out these requests. They didn't seem old-fashioned to me, but a means to express my love and gratitude for so great a Savior, and my sorrow at having ignored and offended Him for so many years. In the South, when something profoundly saddens someone, he says, "That just hurts my heart!" Maybe during this month of the Sacred Heart, we can reflect on what things are hurting the very human Heart of Jesus nowadays. Beheadings and rapes and destruction of churches? Lukewarm Catholics who flout His teachings? Wholesale mockery of Christians by the secular culture? The plight of refugees from wars and disasters? Probably. But what am I doing to sadden Him? I know I am doing something, because I am a sinner, and it is sin that grieves this Heart of perfect Love. For more than a century, Catholics have prayed the Litany of the Sacred Heart to console the Heart of Jesus and in.crease our love for Him. I propose it as a daily prayer during June. Cor sacratissima, miserere nobis! Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

So far, so good

Relaxing in a recliner in the infusion center receiving my second Benlysta treatment.  Is it my imagination, or do I already see some little improvement in my fatigue level? I still tire very easily, but I'm not spending ALL day semi-horizontal. This morning I awoke at a normal time, then folded laundry, changed the kitty litter, made a decent brekfast, dressed, applied makeup, and was ready when my ride came. Wonders.

The L Word

There's a new biologic specially developed to treat lupus, the first new treatment in fifty years, and I am awaiting lab results to see if I qualify. For about one third of patients, it gives dramatic improvement in the pain and fatigue characteristic of the disease. My reaction to the rheumatologist's suggestion that I try it has been strange. I feel devastated that she thinks my case is that serious. I am a champ at denial, and despite having been virtually bedridden at times, I have always thought of my lupus as relatively mild. But I have been abruptly snapped out of that denial. Reviewing my life, it's blindingly obvious that, since childhood, most of my chronic health problems have been caused by lupus. Even my Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune illness. But my doctors, too, seem to have been in a kind of denial. When I was in my twenties, my knees suddenly went south on me, joints red and swollen to the point that I was often on crutches. But when an intern suggested it might be lupus, my PCP pooh-poohed the idea. If only he had done an ANA test! Although not certainly diagnostic of lupus, the presence of anti-nuclear antibodies at least suggests the need for further observation. I might have been spared a couple of decades of "mystery ailments" and the endless eyerolls from skeptical physicians. Finally, in my early fifties, I was given the  diagnosis of MCTD, mixed connective tissue disease, with elements of several autoimmune illnesses. If anything, that diagnosis is more complicated than a straightforward diagnosis of any one autoimmune disease. But still I was stunned the first time my doctor used the L word. I don't know why that's more ominous; clinically, nothing has changed. For the last twenty years or more I have had debilitating fatigue most days and moderate pain 24/7. I have accepted it. It's almost become essential to who I am, since there was no real hope of relief. Even Fentanyl doesn't touch the pain. Now there is a small possibility that I could get better. I feel excited, a bit fearful, and very, very angry. As I review my life and all its suffering, failures, missed opportunities, and losses, I am furious to think what this disease has cost me. Behind that anger, I suspect there is also a deep abyss of sadness into which I really don't want to look. As in Nietzsche's famous conceit, however, I'm afraid that abyss might end by staring back at me. So instead I wait and entertain the astonishing possibility of getting better. It's only the dimmest gleam of hope, but after years with no light at all, it's enough to see the way ahead.

The Jewish Cardinal

Yesterday I watched *The Jewish Cardinal,* French with subtitles, a pretty good biopic about the life of His Eminence Jean-Marie Lustiger, the Jewish Holocaust survivor who became a Catholic and rose to the office of Cardinal Archbishop of Paris. I had always admired his courage, but knew few details of his life.In one powerful scene, he visits Auschwitz during the controversy of the Catholic nuns who had a convent on the grounds. As took in the terrible reality of the place, he fell to his knees, crying out over and over the plain facts of his mother's name, her murder there, and the date. His agony pierced my heart, and I began to cry. My granddaughter, Sophie, who was watching with me, asked what he was saying. I tried to explain, but I could hardly speak. "He's crying for his mother, who died there. During World War II, bad men killed many people . It's very sad." Then I lost control and had to wipe the tears away. Sophie hid her face behind a pillow. She'd never seen Grandma cry before. I almost never cry, in fact. Stoic, stiff upper lip, carrying on regardless, which makes me good in emergencies, but perhaps not so good at empathy. But this film grabbed me. Heartily recommended. On Netflix.

Himmler and Jihad

January 18, 2015 at 1:05pm I spent last night's insomnia watching a disturbing film about Heinrich Himmler, *The Decent One.* The audio is in German, but it's captioned. Based entirely on letters between Himmler and his wife, daughter, parents, and others, as well as his personal journal from student days onward, it's illustrated with candid photos and film, plus contemporary footage. What's devastating is Himmler's ordinariness, even banality. Love letters, self-examination, the incipient plans for the racially pure Germany he envisioned--all give insight into the mind of the creator of the Nazi death machine. He looks winsomely boyish playing with his daughter. Even in state propaganda films he has the look of a boy playing at being a soldier, happy to be included in the game. It makes one wonder if history would have been altered if he hadn't been rejected by the fraternity he pledged at university. The film is also unsettling because of eerie parallels between 1920s Germany and present-day America: a long period of economic recession, a war-weary populace, sharp political division, and rampant conspiracy theories. By "conspiracy theory," I mean an irrational belief that one will not abandon, no matter how much evidence is adduced to dispel it--a definition that applies as readily to radical Islam as to Nazis. Anyone who denies the phony belief becomes part of the vast conspiacy, and, therefore, an enemy who must be eliminated. In a frightening parallel, both the Nazis and Islamists see the Jewish people as enemies, responsible, through nefarious manipulation of world media and finance, for all their problems. Today, anyone who supports Israel is also the enemy. Hence the book-burnings. Torching works by Jews in festive bonfires was one of the first public acts of the newly elected Nazi government. It was seen as a patriotic act, as was refusing to buy from Jewish-owned stores. "Don't put money into their coffers!" was the slogan. Now the self-named Islamic State begins its reign with glorious conflagration of "un-Islamic" books. That is, any work that challenges their phony belief. Remember, anyone who does so becomes part of the conspiracy--an enemy to be destroyed. And so we see the need to murder a handful of cartoonists at a small magazine roughly comparable to an R-rated Mad, just as those who opposed Nazi dogma were sent to concentration camps where, they, too, died. And now you know the connection between the Islamic State and Nazi Germany. The terrorists, too, are ordinary people, fired by a mistaken ideology. They, too, have families back home who love them; they may write tender, playful letters to their wives and children. Still they will kill us. Nazis were easy to recognize: they dressed in sharp uniforms and goose-stepped through the streets. Today's storm-trooper may live among us for years, working, hanging out with friends, going to university, even joining our military. They may even be our own children. Only a small percentage of Germans were members of the Nazi party. Only a small number of Muslims are Islamists. The rest stand by and say nothing, either because they fear the all-too-real reprisals, or because they secretly share in the same false beliefs, or because, like most of us, their own lives are going pretty well and it's not really their problem. It seems the only kind of conspiracy that can destroy us is a conspiracy of silence. As Edmund Burke, that other prophetic Burke, said, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." What's missing from that quote is that those who "do something" often pay a price, sometimes their life itself. But what, finally, is the alternative? http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2014/01/05/tripoli-library-burned_n_4543928.html Ancient books in a historic library in the Lebanese city of Tripoli have been torched by Islamist, after a pamphlet purportedly insulting religion was found inside one of the books. Security sources say that up to 78,000 books, many irreplaceable ... HUFFINGTONPOST.CO.UK Th The film, The Decent One, is available on Netflix.

Undaunted

Surprised by a winter snow this week,  I am pressing on regardless.  Going to my mom's with the Kid and Grandkid and both large dogs to "help" her pack some things and celebrate my birthday on Sunday. 

Like most Catholics, I am deep in Lent, feeling my own slickness and aware of my dependence on grace.  Right now,  we are also preoccupied with the resignation of our pope and the upcoming conclave.  Spiritual warfare within and without. 

Which is always fitting, but especially now.  Let us encourage one another to carry on.  We have our Lord's promise:. Gates of Hell and all that. 

I was just talking about Pearl Harbor with my mom, Nikki Rader Newkirk, and I heard a commemoration of it on NPR in the car earlier. My mom was 17, a high school senior--and suddenly her entire life was changed forever. Boys she knew were called up, other boys from other places were stationed in Enid, Oklahoma. One, a New York Italian, used to hang out with Mother's family just because he so missed his own family and all the noise and activiity of a full household.

Pearl Harbor happened just about five years before I was born. By the end of the war, Mother was married to a young man from South Carolina that she never would have met without that war. A few years later, thought, she was married to my Daddy, a boy from Enid who was home from Great Britain and in college on the GI Bill. SoIn the post-war 1950s, Oklahoma boomed, finally recovering from the Depression and the Dust Bowl. We had new neighbors, new cars, new houses, new schools as my generation, the first wave of the Baby Boom, made its way through childhood and adolescence. All we had to worry about was retribution for those bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki--not from the Japanese, who were now our friends and partners, but from the Russians. We had "duck and cover" drills, as if our wooden desks would protect us from the blinding flash and the mushroom cloud. During the Cuban missile crisis, we stood in the school parking lot and shivered and cried as we considered our potential lack of a future.

So, yes, I remember. And I imagine most of my contemporaries do, at least. My son, with his deep connection to my dad, remembers. And we will teach the granddaughter, only five, as time goes on. Her memories won't be as immediate as my mother's, or as personal as mine. And eventually the common memory will become as remote as those of Gettysburg or the trenches in France, subsumed into a kind of general gratitude toward those who have fought and those who supported them. Maybe we seem oblivious or ungrateful, but I think most of us know the debt we owe to those who have won and preserved our freedom. Now, we pray God to make the best use of that freedom. We choose our leaders and representatives; let us try, at least, to choose those worthy of our forebears' sacrifice.

Unsung Heroes

Whenever I see a servicemember I thank them for their service. They make daily sacrifices so that I can live free.

But there are other soldiers on the job 24/7--not so I can live free, but so I can live forever. These guys remain faithful through isolation, scandal, overwork, and the contempt of much of society. So the next time I see a priest, I will say, "Father, thank you for your service."