We were exhorted this morning at Mass to pray urgently for Pope Francis' trip to Egypt. Egypt is anything but safe for Christians these days, and Francis isn't exactly helping matters by refusing to travel around in his bulletproof Popemobile. That's just how he rides (literally). You have to both shake your head at it and respect it at the same time. Pope Francis clearly wishes to be with the Christians of Egypt at this most difficult time. They suffer greatly for their faith. We can learn so much from them.

Notice I said "their" faith. The majority of Egyptian Christians are, of course, orthodox Coptic. This dates back to the Council of Chalcedon in the year 451. The controversy surrounded the nature(s) of Christ. The Monophysites held that Christ had one nature. The Church upheld that Christ has a Divine nature and a human nature. Anything other than this would not allow Christ to be fully Divine and fully human. It would be to say that Christ is, I don't know, a mod or a Gan? Some sort of blend of God and man. This is fraught with problems. God cannot change or He wouldn't be God. Christ must be fully man or else humanity wouldn't be redeemed. The theological problems of Monophysitism are extremely significant. Hence a complete schism in 451.

How does this relate to the upcoming Papal trip? It may or it may not. For starters, the Coptics consider their Patriarch of Alexandria to be their head. For many Francis would merely be considered a schismatic bishop of Rome. Thus, I fear that if our Pope Francis arrives with his recent TED talk mentality of fluffy hope, revolution of tenderness, and future you blather, his words and actions will be to no effect. It would be the equivalent of the local Church of the Rock protestant worship leader coming over to our local Catholic church in the midst of some crisis to tell us that we are one, peace is flowing like a river, and that we should cherish his words and be honoured by his visit because he's so significant to the community. He'd then kiss a baby for the cameras and leave. I fear there'd be no real point to such a visit. It would have a touch of hegemony and pride.

Yet I also believe Pope Francis can have an impact with his visit. If he follows the method of his predecessor Benedict XVI. Benedict's method is twofold for it involves truth and justice. Firstly, Benedict understands when there are deep differences, and does not cover them. For Egypt, this would involve Pope Francis being cognizant of the schism, and not assuming Coptic Christians will heed his words as if he were their pope. The truth is that beliefs on Christ and the papacy differ, and thus the approach must reflect this reality.

Benedict XVI also firmly believes that peace is not possible without justice. For instance, in his second book of the Jesus of Nazareth series, Benedict explains that Pilate had Jesus handed over to death in order to maintain a false peace. This false peace was completely un-Romanesque, and ultimately ended in the destruction of Jerusalem. Peace requires justice. Benedict backed up the call for justice in his famous Regensburg Address where he lucidly explained the violence found in Islam. If Pope Francis comes out and demands justice for our Egyptian Christian brothers, he will surely make an impact. His visit will not be a photo op filled with empty words, but rather will be the head of the Roman Church showing a true concern for a Christian people struggling for daily survival. The orthodox Coptic Christians would surely appreciate this effort.

Therefore, I still see the schism of 451 as significant to the upcoming visit of Pope Francis. Though we are Christians, there is a difference which will affect the message Pope Francis brings. His substance must be true and it must speak of justice. Only then will they observe the love behind it.

The Chicken and the Egg

I just received an email from Kevin O'Leary. Although I like to think he writes to me personally, apparently he leaked our private correspondence to the media because it's everywhere. Yes, this just in, O'Leary has dropped out of the CPC leadership race. He cited lack of support in Quebec as well as minimal second ballot support. O'Leary is, to quote Donovan Bailey, "a chicken." O'Leary says he's throwing his support behind Maxime Bernier. It was just over a month ago that Bernier called O'Leary "a loser." Of note, O'Leary still had a Donate button at the end of his email. The button links to donating to O'Leary, not Bernier. Wow... when you put everything like that O'Leary... sure, take my money!

Bernier is clearly the front-runner now. At this point, and depending on where O'Leary's support actually goes, it seems only Andrew Scheer and possibly Erin O'toole have a chance of catching up to Bernier. This is, as Bertie Wooster would say, the posish.

Campaign Life Coalition will still tell us that only candidates Pierre Lemieux and Brad Trost are pro-life. Meanwhile CLC continues to ignore Scheer's pro-life voting record and how under him, via individual MPs, it is possible to get pro-life legislation PASSED. CLC will continue to support the 2.7 and 2.9 percent candidates. Yes, that is a single 2 in front of their support ranking percentage. Lemieux and Trost possibly would be great leaders. But they are insignificant at this point. Either way, it seems to me that CLC continues to lay an egg in the work they do.

"I have zero chance of winning."

Music Mondays: Something Something Something Polish

Yesterday was the feast of Divine Mercy. A feast day for everyone, but of course the Polish people have a special love and devotion to it. When I think of Polish things, I think back to my time in Barry's Bay.

I remember Fr. Shalla had this CD of Polish music which I think was a Mass setting for the feast of Divine Mercy. Although the CD was beautiful, it was the first track which he especially loved. He told me it was a hymn for the Holy Spirit. He would frequently play it before Mass, or he would play the CD during confession time to help block the noise of confessions.

Well one day Father took a little trip to Poland. And, well, I loved that Polish song too. I just had to have it. So I ducked into the sacristy (not really, I had a key) and stole the CD. I then ran home, copied it onto my computer, and ran back... He never knew... It's not that I was against buying it. I just couldn't understand anything on the CD case, except for Jesu Ufam Tobie. So I copied the CD for my own spiritual benefit. Right?

I've since found the opening track on YouTube. It was accompanied by some weird pictures of people on the ground, arms outstretched, no doubt overpowered by the Holy Spirit and all. No thank you. I've uploaded it myself. I added a picture of St. Hedwig's Church in Barry's Bay. The scene of the crime. Here is Przyjdź Duchu Święty:

The Ties That Bind

I keep a pair of shoelaces with me at school. The laces are not for use. They are there to remind me of something. To keep me grounded. Like the string on one’s finger, they are a string for my poor, corrupt, beady little black heart.

It all started one year as I endeavoured to teach grade two phys ed for the first time. The class was generally moving along without too much confusion or strife. A few fits of crying here and there, but hey, I soon learned how to control my tearful emotions. Yet there was one little lad that rubbed against me as nails on a chalkboard. A typically energetic youngster who, to speak with simplicity, didn’t get along with me. At all. Things were rough between us.

How one deals with struggles is different for each person. Especially for young children. I’ve seen children handle problems by remaining silent, by screaming, by literally running away. I’ve even seen some try to hit their head on a table. Well this grade two boy whom I taught was a shoelace cutter. He would cut and shred his shoelaces if frustrated. I’ve seen it before. I’ll probably see it again. There’s no judging here. Only observation. He cut laces. Maybe I would too if I had to be taught by this phys ed teacher of his. Needless to say, our relationship as teacher/student was rocky. Nothing would crack it. It seemed relentless. That’s the thing with our troubles in life. Sometimes it seems we’re in an unending hole. There is no escape. No hope.

Christmas came and went. It wasn’t until a gloomy winter day soon into the new year where things came to a head. My young friend was running his warm-up laps in the gym when he tripped end over end and slammed hard onto the floor. There he was. I went over and saw, quite evidently, mangled shoelaces which clearly would have tripped even the most dexterous of professional athletes. I sighed loudly in great frustration. This was it! This was too much! This boy and I had to have it out, right now. I can’t imagine what I was about to say.

Call it a moment of grace, but for an instance I looked on him and saw everything differently. I no longer saw my phys ed adversary, but rather a child who just needed something else. I stopped the rest of the class and had them carry out some harmless activity away from the scene of the fall. Then I sat down beside the student in question. We calmly talked about whether or not he was hurt, as I patiently untied his laces from his shoes. A moment of grace indeed. With the laces off I went out to the hallway and stopped a nearby teacher. I asked the teacher if he had any spare laces. The kindhearted teacher dropped what he was doing and raced back to class to get a pair which he had kicking around. A smart looking set of orange laces. The student and I sat together and laced up his shoes. Finally, I helped tie them up, and phys ed class continued.

That moment was a definite turning point. Everything changed from then on. Sure some days we still rubbed each other the wrong way, but it was all so different now. We chatted. He shared his excitement with me. I gladly exclaimed how happy I was with his work. It was new life for both of us. Sometimes I would ask him how his shoelaces were. This was not a literal question; it was a reference to how he was doing. Were things ok? They were. When I would go for a jog in town often I would see him run out of his yard and wave wildly to me with a smile the size you’ve never seen. Life was good. One day a magician came to our school for a presentation. Evidently the student was wowed by what he saw. We chatted the next recess. He bubbled with excitement. He especially loved the juggling. I told him that I knew how to juggle, and that I would gladly teach him how. His eyes lit up! We arranged to make it happen. I shook my head in disbelief. What a great kid. He was teaching me how to be a teacher.

Later that evening I was jogging by his house, but he did not run out to wave at me. In fact, I never saw him again. Who knows what terror was unfolding in his trailer house then. This young lad, along with his mom and two sisters, were brutally murdered by a step dad.

A couple of mornings later, in the midst of the shock and chaos, I slipped into his classroom before school. I went over to his desk and looked down at his shoes. There they were. Those sharp looking orange laces. Perfectly intact. Perfect as the day they were first laced up. In the darkness of the situation, there was a little ray of sunshine. The past couple of months he had been by far the happiest I've ever seen.

And so, I keep a pair of shoelaces with me. A smart orange looking pair once worn with pride and responsibility. They remind me of something. Although I still strive to be the ever firm and just teacher, I still try to remember that there is no action too little which can help a student; which can help change a life. Even though the life be taken far too young. In some small way our stories will always be tied together.

Music Mondays: Broadway to Hell

Happy Easter to everyone! The joke around these parts was "Merry Christm...er.. Happy Easter!" We woke up to a dusting of snow and lots of cold. But, as Fr. Andrew so innocently said in his homily on Easter morning, the glory of Christ, as described at the Transfiguration, is dazzling as white as snow. Amen. And, because I can, Alleluia too.

The night before was anything but dazzling. I went with my sister to St. Paul's Cathedral in Saskatoon for the Easter Vigil. It started out as normal. A fire. The beautiful prayers. The proclamation of light. However, we soon noticed that the regular choir from years past was absent. This piano player started playing, in a distracting manner, during the sacred Exultet. Then the first reading came. From Genesis. The piano started up. Creation sounds (?) gave undertone to the reading. Wispy soprano trills and powerful bass staccatos. Emotion was building. And then, the choir which had abruptly arranged themselves in the front of the church near the Paschal candle, started swaying and breaking into a chorus describing how God saw it was good. Mass became a cheap Broadway musical! Because that's why we go to Mass, after all. Well Broadway, or is it hell (?) hath no fury as compared to what was unleashed. My sister and I had our jaws drop. More reading of creation. More chorus. I half expected a person dressed as a globe to come bouncing out. What happens next I cannot say. Because we walked out of the Easter Vigil. We walked out in shame. Shame for what Christ's victory over death has become... a cheap (and awful) Broadway musical. A new meaning to incense at Mass. The Church used to warn that messing with the Mass was a mortal sin. I suppose people don't even believe in mortal sin anymore, let alone care to worship, on the most solemn of nights, with dignity, truth, and beauty. We walked out of the Easter Vigil. I still need to let that sink in. My sister went to catch another Vigil (with a Las Vegas flare to it...). I went back to the hotel and had a long shower.

Nevertheless, joy of joys, we went to the Latin Mass the next morning! Oh the prayers. The real sweet smelling incense. The Regina Caelis and Victimae Paschali Laudes. The Lord, in His great kindness, erased the stunning memory of the night before. It was beautiful. Of course everything concluded with a organ-filled Jesus Christ is Risen Today.

This great Easter carol is rooted in the 14th century and was originally titled: Surrexit Christus Hodie. It has seen many modifications and additions throughout the years. It is both solemn and joyful. As Fr. George Rutler explains in his book, The Stories of Hymns:

"[It] is a little like the way of the Church when she is faithful to herself: there are some celebrations too joyful for ordinary happiness. To be solemn is not necessarily to be sad; it can be a very high happiness. When that is forgotten, the sacred dance can be twisted by touchy-feely affectation into superficial hugging and self-conscious cuteness. And so it is in the 'Church of What's Happening Now.' But it cannot be so in the Church Catholic" (p. 95).

And thus Fr. Rutler accurately describes my experience of Easter this year. Enjoy the solemn, and sacred, hymn of praise:

BONUS:

The boys had breakfast in bed at the hotel. 

Princess Emilie hogs the main bed to herself.

Last Easter

 This Easter

 The family

And picking up a bit of bunny poo when we got home!

10 month old beauty

Mama is terribly slow at blogging. When this began, it was titled something like Emilie at 9 months. Well, now we're a week past the 10 month mark and here we are again.

But between 9 months and 10 months, Emilie has hit some major milestones and become such a cute little chatterbox. 

Em at 9 months

Miss Emilie is truly the joy of our lives. Our being the collective 4 other people in the family. We love her to pieces and sometimes fight for her attention.

A few weeks ago, Emilie finally started crawling and now is a little moving menace. The boys are forever moving things out of her way. Next stop, pulling herself up. She is so close!

She is usually smiling, our happy little girl

"I always wanted a little doggie," Dan told her. And Emilie is our dog. She loves to go around barking, "Woowoowoo." She will kneel against the baby gate in the kitchen, looking down the stairs at freedom... and bark. She will crawl around the floor near the table looking for any leftovers dropped from her brothers... and bark. When we take her for a walk in the stroller, she will watch the houses pass... and bark. It's just the cutest! 

But her vocabulary consists of more than barking. Just this week, Emilie finally started saying, "Mummummum." Prior to this development, she would be nursing with me and pause to gaze at me while happily spouting, "Daddaddad."

Em at 10 months

Our 23-24 pounder is heavy. We are hoping that with her newfound motion, she will stretch out a bit and maybe level out her weight gain. Someone asked me yesterday, "What are you feeding her?" Seriously, she nurses and eats soup and fruit and the odd muffin. That's it. Must have really fattening milk. Or she's just been really lazy ;)

Emilie has been our latest baby for something things, like crawling, rolling, any kind of movement; but she gets the most points for timely arrival, and teething. She got her 6th tooth recently (!!) and eats like a champ.

What a beauty!

Despite having no girly toys, she has adapted to our house of boys just fine. She know exactly what kind of "brrmmm" noise goes with a John Deer tractor or truck. I'm just a little tickled that she loves and values books so much too. So far we have yet to remove our book basket from the living room completely, but it will be soon since chewing books is her new favourite. We're doing something right when she recognizes books as a prized possession worth bee lining for. And maybe we'll buy her a little doll for her birthday ;)

It's hard to imagine our lives a year ago, with Emilie still on the inside and just boys. Little did we know how a wonderful, beautiful little lady could tie us all around her little finger so easily.

Em and her buddies

Good Friday Tradition

An annual Good Friday tradition here is to make the Passion scene out of Lego. Of course that's Judas hanging out on the side. John Paul built a boat with canons and guns besides everything. When I asked him what he was doing he said: "This is a boat that the soldiers catch Judas with."

Points to Ponder: Holy Week Edition

I often let Becca handle updates around here. But I was looking at our blog list and it showed that she has an unpublished work in progress blog post about how Emilie turned 9 months. Emilie is now turning 10 months. I guess homeschooling and all makes for a very busy life. I'll do my part to contribute with a Points to Ponder: Holy Week Edition.

1. Miserere

I've been listening to Allegri's Miserere mei, Deus a fair bit lately. It makes its way into the Wednesday Tenebrae service. If you don't know what I'm talking about, give it a quick listen. Or, like me, listen to it over and over and over.

Of course the great mystery of this majestic and haunting composition has always been: how is possible to hit the famous high C featured? Some say that the Vatican, which featured the Miserere each year at the Sistine Chapel, used castrated males for the part. A famous story is, of course, how Mozart once travelled to Rome to listen to this famous piece. You see the Vatican had the lone rights to this sacred hymn, and it punished severely those who attempted to smuggle the music away (the word excommunication was bandied about). Well, Mozart showed up, listened to it, and later that day promptly wrote down the entire song based solely on his memory of having heard it once earlier. The legend of the story grows in that Pope Clement XIV, who is famous for suppressing the Jesuits (the good old days), called Mozart in for a private audience. People assumed he would be punishing Mozart for what he had done. Quite the contrary, for Pope Clement XIV expressed his profound admiration for the feat of Mozart, and gave Mozart a special award for what he had accomplished.


2. But How?

I'm side tracked. How do they hit the high C? The code was cracked a few years ago. Click on the video and skip to 44 seconds in.

One wonders if Mozart figured out this method during his plagiarism of the Miserere?


3. Rodeo

Oh, we went to our rodeo and trade fair last weekend. We weren't too impressed. It seems everyone was getting hurt. Serious injuries. Ambulances taking off and not showing up when they were supposed to. Why, we went to a barrel race only to see two girls get bucked off within 10 minutes of each other. That's not supposed to happen in a barrel race. The last girl apparently even had a neck injury (not too severe, thankfully). That was enough for us. We quickly hit up the trade fair and then left.

4. Disaster

Lately our living room has looked like a bomb has gone off. Our living room pretty well constantly looks like this:

What is going on?!?! Here's a hint:

Yes, someone has started crawling! Crawling means access to toy bins. Toy bins mean lots of fun, and lots of messes. "But.. But..." you reply, "She's so cute!" Don't let her cute cheeks and innocent eyes deceive you. There is a master of disaster dwelling deep within.


5. School

Work plugs on. I will probably be getting a different teaching assignment next year, but it has not been confirmed yet. I'm looking forward to the Easter break! So are the students. In the last week I've been punched, growled at, and called an idiot. The response from one parent? "You guys don't listen to my son." Yep, the apple does not fall far from the tree. Miserable parents make miserable kids. At least I got my five year pay bump this week. It reminded me of why I bother.


6. For the Byrds

Thanks to Marissa for filling me in with some information regarding my music Monday which featured a CD on the Passion of Christ. It is music by William Byrd. I appreciate it!


7. Chocolate

I did get in trouble from Becca though. I was innocently telling Joseph, as we were staring at two bunnies on our front lawn, that one was the Easter bunny and it was pooping chocolate for us. The other wasn't. He liked that. "Wait!" he wondered. "How do we know which is the chocolate and which is the other bunny's poop!?" I told him that you taste them, and if they taste good they're chocolate, and if not they're poop. He laughed. Becca didn't. There's nothing to worry about. Joseph would never try that. But I sure hope John Paul wasn't listening...


I was going to say something else, but forgot. Ever happen to you? Anyways, we're off to Saskatoon on Saturday, and home on Sunday. It's going to be a cold Easter! Those chocolate Easter eggs will surely freeze. Sure as sh#.... ahh, I'll stop there. Until next time.

Music Mondays: Tension in the Air

You can click on the video and listen as you read.

I thought about having a song that related to Becca and my wedding anniversary. Yes, it's our anniversary. Seven years. Don't feel bad if you forgot. Even Becca forgot. Anyway, some music relating to our marriage. Perhaps some Collective Soul? Or even O God Beyond all Praising? Well, I decided to pass on that. In fact, we're planning on celebrating our anniversary only after Holy Week is all said and done. That's just how things go. To be Catholic means to put the mysteries of Catholicism first. Lent, and especially Holy Week, doesn't take away from being Catholic. They are what Catholicism is all about.

I've noticed a definite switch this past Lent. Maybe it existed prior, but I just clued in this year. That is, the discipline of Lent is completely absent from my surroundings. "Catholic" teachers at school don't flinch over Friday night parties and such, local groups plan Easter egg hunts for Holy Week, and more recently many Catholic friends on Facebook very openly post pictures of drinking beer and having a good old time with others on a first Friday in Lent. Now obviously such friends could very well be taking on a rigorous and hidden Lenten discipline so who cares what I see on Facebook. Still though, from what I knew of them prior... they never would've dared to do that a few years ago. By appearances anyway, it does seem to me that Lent isn't what it used to be.

Yet count us fortunate. While there is indifference here, in Egypt there is anything but. Multiple bombings at Palm Sunday Divine Liturgies yesterday show the hard price some Christians have to pay in order to celebrate this sacred season. May God help them in their great time of need.

There is a tension in the air. Christ enters Jerusalem to palms and hosannas. He is chased out of the city carrying a cross and being whipped. There is tension still in the present day. People killed for being Christian. Others completely indifferent. Yet Christ comes all the same. A great mystery. And so I chose Pange Lingua. The great hymn perfected by St. Thomas Aquinas. There is praise and joy in this hymn. There is also solemn grief. We hear this on Holy Thursday. After the joy of partaking in the first Mass, we promptly process Our Lord to the place of repose. He is taken away. A night in agony awaits. A day of suffering and death is on the horizon. The second verse proclaims: "Then He closed in solemn order / Wondrously His life of woe."

There is tension in the air. If we but take the time to notice.

Have a blessed Holy Week.

There was a birthday

As some of you know, we had a birthday here on Friday. Seeing as it was a first Friday in Lent, the celebrations were purposefully low-key. However, I ordered a stunning 22 degrees with sunshine for the occasion. Since then it has snowed and it currently is 7 below. The 29 degree swing has me a little relieved. The hot weather was killing me!

Meatless Friday. We had a 10 veggie stir fry and Asian noodles and shrimp. John Paul had a bowl of applesauce, which he promptly threw up all over the floor.

I'm not going to tell you the age. But if you read very closely...

Part of a birthday card...

And when it's all said and done... 

 Cake! It's hard to tell here, but those two had twin t-shirts on.

A slightly more flattering picture of the two.

Lenten Reading: the Good, the Bad, the Ugly

Just a little more than one week left until I can go back to turning the TV on when I want to, where I want to, whenever Becca lets me. But I've enjoyed the extra reading, when Emilie lets us read that is. Here are a few books that have made an impression, for better or for worse.


THE GOOD

Jesus of Nazareth, Part 2. This is Pope Benedict XVI's theological reflection on Our Lord's final week in Jerusalem before he died. Reading Benedict's work makes my mind, heart, and soul rise up. He is so profound, yet so simple in his style. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I think he is the greatest theologian since St. Thomas Aquinas.

It is a little troubling reading certain aspects though. For instance, his chapter on the washing of feet. Pope Benedict explains the situation, found within the Gospel of John, to perfection. The washing when seen purely as a physical meaning of cleaning feet is quite laughable. The washing when seen purely as a way to show service is also depraved in meaning. Benedict effortlessly takes us on a road of true insight. For instance, the disciples did not get their whole bodies washed because presumably they had them cleaned already. Just like we are cleansed completely in baptism. The cleansing of feet then very much signifies confession. Primarily though, it  signifies the Head cleansing it's priestly members for acting in persona Christi in the Church. The disciples are able to minister only because Christ's power has acted in them first (p. 63). I could go on, but clearly would not do Benedict justice. Read it for yourself. Please.

On the other hand, as I said, it is troubling considering our present day foot-washing debacle instituted by the current Holy Father. Washing the feet of Muslims on Holy Thursday is about the equivalent of going to an NHL Stanley Cup final game and watching the linesmen the entire game. It's always bittersweet these days to read the theological writings of Pope Benedict XVI.

BONUS GOOD: The Lion of Munster. By Toronto St. Philip Oratorian Fr. Daniel Utrecht. This book features the life of Blessed Clemens August von Galen. Von Galen had the honour of being a bishop in Germany at the time of the rise (and fall) of Adolph Hitler. Unlike most other bishops though, von Galen was outspoken in his denunciation of Nazism. Hitler, it is said, couldn't wait until the war was over so that he could have a very public execution of von Galen. Though he was not martyred, the theme of martyrdom pervades the entire book. That is von Galen was eager to lay his life down for Our Lord. With this reckless abandon (though more properly termed 'love') von Galen's work was indispensable.  Our Lord only truly can work in us when we truly give our lives completely to him. The result for von Galen? The people of his diocese loved him, and would do anything for him. Truth has a way of moving people for such action. Once again, what I write cannot do this book justice. Read it and be inspired. And, just perhaps, give a copy to your bishops and priests and have them be inspired to speak the truth ferociously too. Like a lion.

THE BAD

Preparing Yourself for Mass. By Romano Guardini. Guardini was a famous professor/priest in Germany who died in 1968. This book was to be my primary lenten spiritual reading. Daily reflections on the Mass. The book was highly recommended to me. And it started out as promised. The first few chapters held beautiful insights on the need to prepare for Mass with silence, recollection, and prayer. It even spoke on preparing the night before for Mass.
I was enjoying it thoroughly. But then I noticed the theology started to get a little wonky. Guardini was speaking in a pre-Vatican II setting, and his ideas were to return to the Church to a way the Church worshiped at its conception. This desire was a rallying point for many at Vatican II. However, such desire must never forget organic development. The Church has grown in depth and understanding since the early Church. As we've since found out in the aftermath of Vatican II, it is extremely unwise to attack nearly 2000 years of movement by the Holy Spirit in the Church. For instance, Guradini  opined against Latin, high altars, and beautiful art and vestment. The reason being that the first Christians did not have this (you know, as they secretly said Mass for fear of being killed...). Guardini picks bizarre fights, such as stating how sad it is that we give money at collection time instead of baking bread and making wine and bringing that instead. Oddly enough, the current Church in Germany is obsessed with money. At one point Guardini went so far to say that if the Mass feels like it is becoming routine, then you should stop going throughout the week. I disagree completely. If I stop being fervent in love for my wife, should I live somewhere else during the week? Well, at this point in the book I stopped reading. And I hope you don't even start reading it. *cough* just read Benedict *cough*


THE UGLY

Jeeves and Wooster Series. By P.G. Wodehouse. We bought another set of Wooster books as lent began. Reading such books is the equivalent of watching the Mass on EWTN but then deciding to change the channel and watch The Three Stooges instead. Yes, it is like candy. It is ugly. But one needs to be entertained from time to time, especially in a TVless lenten world. Enter Bertram Wilberforce Wooster and Reginald ("he has a first name?") Jeeves. They bring hours of entertainment. Wodehouse is possibly the funniest writer of all time. So sly. So dry. So...

“Bertie, old man," said young Bingo earnestly, "for the last two weeks I've been comforting the sick to such an extent that, if I had a brother and you brought him to me on a sick-bed at this moment, by Jove, old man, I'd heave a brick at him.” 

It's fun to picture the characters as the TV characters. If you've never seen them, gulp, they're on YouTube. I just wasted about 20 hours of your life now...

And there you have a quick glimpse at some lenten reading. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. In the words of Bertie Wooster: "What ho!"

Ooh lala, what's a gym teacher to do?

A predicament only a gym teacher can appreciate. Tomorrow is Western Spirit Day at our school. The rodeo starts in town, so we're supposed dress up in our best jeans and cowboy hat to get in the spirit. Sounds fun, right? Well, the problem is I have yet to see a pair of jeans that I can actual do gym activities in. Blech. Thankfully, thanks to nhl.com, I stumbled upon a solution!

Never you mind. Back to the drawing board. These jeans will attract the attention of females a little too much.

Ooh la la indeed. Back to being stuck on what to wear.

The Routine of Life (and Death)

Another day, another dollar (another dollar spent). We treat each day with a certain amount of repetition and normalcy. Routine can be good when filled with virtue, for the routine will bring growth. Routine filled for the sake of routine will eventually exhaust ourselves horribly. It is true with daily living, as with our spiritual lives.

A routine certain aspect of daily living is that everyday people die. The moment of death is in essence what we are born to do ("no matter what you do, you are dying" said one saint). Our ontological end, that which Aristotle could not help but reason towards, is to be eternally happy with our Maker. It is a fearful and wonderful thought. Yet it hums away in our daily routine.

Forgive me if you've heard this type of story before. I'll bet you have. Today the grandpa of our neighbour across the street died. A man named Grant. As is so often the case, Grant and his wife were Catholics who still practiced their faith. Their children had fallen away from the faith. Their grandkids, as the case with our neighbour, understandably even more so. The story goes that at some point today our priest was given a call. He was asked him if he could come right away before Grant died. Our priest replied that he was at his cabin, and that it would take him a good hour and a half to get there. "Oh it will surely be too late," they answered. "Grant will die any minute." Well Father, being Father, left the cabin regardless. He invoked Grant's guardian angel. He insisted that his guardian angel get him there in time, despite the hopelessness of the situation. Well, as is the case (again, forgive me if you've heard this before), Father arrived in time. He was able to administer the last rites. Father then prayed a chaplet of Divine Mercy. And, routine of routines, Grant died right as Father finished the chaplet.

I call this story routine only in the sense that we've heard stories like it before. In actual fact, if you're like me, a story like this amazes me every time. The Divine Mercy of Christ must never be taken for granted. And yet, it's always eagerly available to those who call on it. God, in a sense, is routine. He is routine with unfathomable mercy and unending love. It is only our daily routines, those lacking in virtue, which shut us out from his routine of infinite goodness.

One other aspect strikes me today, that of the guardian angel. We too often pray our mindless angel of God prayer everyday, yet neglect to actually talk with our angel. God's routine, if you will, heavily involves our angel. Our angels are in place to lead us to heaven. Daily. As sure as we rise each morning and go about our day, our angels are there to lead us on the right path. I'm always struck by that passage from St. Faustina's Diary:

I saw my Guardian Angel, who ordered me to follow him. In a moment I was in a misty place full of fire in which there was a great crowd of suffering souls. They were praying fervently, but to no avail, for themselves; only we can come to their aid. The flames which were burning them did not touch me at all. My Guardian Angel did not leave me for an instant. I asked these souls what their greatest suffering was. They answered me in one voice that their greatest torment was longing for God. I saw Our Lady visiting the souls in Purgatory. The souls call her "The Star of the Sea." She brings them refreshment. I wanted to talk with them some more, but my Guardian Angel beckoned me to leave. We went out of that prison of suffering. [I heard an interior voice] which said, "My mercy does not want this, but justice demands it." Since that time, I am in closer communion with the suffering souls. (Diary, 20)

I love how St. Faustina walks side by side with her angel. Her angel leads her around. How normal it all seems. How routine. Her angel shows her the love of Our Lady,  the justice and mercy of God, and the tremendous suffering of the souls. Indeed, there is a routine in our spiritual life which, if we stopped and truly pondered it, would shake us out of our dull normalcy forever and profoundly impact us towards a life of virtue. Blessed be the routine of God.

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love entrusts me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen

Music Mondays: Passion and a Plea

Passiontide has begun. The tremendous symbolism of veiling our sacred images, particularly the crucifix, is always striking. The crucifix will not reappear until Good Friday following the Gospel declaring Christ's death.

Each Lent we listen to my favourite CD: The Passion of Christ by William Byrd. At least... I think it is (?). You see, back when I went to to OLSWA they had a mess of donations. One day during my first year we were browsing through a box of old CDs. One of the CDs was on the Passion of Christ. It was absolutely stunning. There were vocal tracks, and orchestral tracks featuring the cello. Myself and a couple other guys just loved it. I remember vividly listening to this CD on the way to Ottawa and back one Lenten Sunday. It made the trip very special.

A few years later I shared the music files with Becca. She also loved it. In gratitude she agreed to marry me. At least I think that's how it went. I don't exactly remember.

I don't exactly remember the CD either. I vaguely seem to recall something about a Toronto choir singing it, and it being a William Byrd's Passione de Cristo. Yet internet searches on the matter are made in vain. If you have any information on this, please let me know! I'd love to know the story behind this music.

As for Music Mondays, I popped up a couple of recordings on YouTube to give you a sample. I'll probably have them pulled down before long. So enjoy it while it lasts.

Track 1:

Tracks 2-8:

Gotta be 3

"Mom, I'm three now and I'm almost five!"

Our little firecracker, John Paul, turned three this week and woke me up on his birthday morning to tell me he was almost five.

This boy brings a lot of crazy and a lot of fun to our lives. He does nothing by halves; it's all or nothing. He's got a mind of his own and a stubborn streak to go with it. He's hopping around with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face or he's a foot-dragging, pout-sporting miserable grump whining for attention. His highs are so high, his lows are so low.









John Paul is a delight and a challenge that we are grateful for every day.

Being the middle child is a hard gig. It's easy to see how much of John Paul's difficulties in life are "inflicted" because he's the middle one. But the beauty of a growing and biggish family is that they all learn from an early age that sharing and caring are just the way things roll. John Paul, understandably, has a little jealousy for his sister who takes up so much of his mommy's lap and time or his brother who gets lots of school attention and constantly interrupts him. Despite that middle-child syndrome, he takes it all in stride and for a kid who frequently gets shushed and booted off a lap, he has a lot of good-will and never holds a grudge.

John Paul did a lot of learning and growing up this year. He got the 3-days-or-bust potty-training treatment and came out with mostly flying colours. He takes himself to the potty and only occasionally has the odd accident when he just doesn't make it on time. He learned to dress himself recently and just needs help with the socks and sometimes correcting the right way around on clothing. He has learned colours, numbers, the alphabet, and lots of kindergarten-level school. He knows how caterpillars become butterflies and some of the 10 Commandments. He knows all the words to Mumford and Sons songs, Colplay, Veggie Tales, and can repeat many priest/congregation parts from Traditional Latin Mass.





For John Paul's birthday, his Millette grandparents gave him a little Mass kit. He is thrilled and has been reverently saying Mass and Adoration every day since. I guess you could say, John Paul got "Mass-trained" this year too. From a crazy, bolting, talking toddler to a much quieter, book reading, consecration watching, wannabee-altar-boy. We attend the Saturday evening Mass at our parish and in the last two months, John Paul even fell asleep a few times during the homily. This would never have happened to baby or toddler John Paul.

So holy, so reverent. Sometimes.

John Paul has a warring affectionate-repulsing personality. He's a man of few affectionate words. If asked, he will say he doesn't love you; if you say you love him, he doesn't say anything. But just let him show his love and he is a rambunctious cuddler ready to smother Mommy and Emilie with affection.

Everything has to be on his terms. Offer him something for a snack and he will say "no"; wait a minute and he'll ask for what you just offered him. (We're working on it).

John Paul loves to read books and will sit for long periods of time all by himself reading. He loves Lego and will come up with impressive little boats, towers, or crazy inventions. He loves to colour and does it carefully inside the lines, but doesn't care at all for true-to-life colour usage (we are also mostly convinced he has some kind of colour blindness to red/green which makes things very interesting!).  

He's a talker and always has been. We've been working on the "th" sound and John Paul's been very proud to say the Hail Mary with all the thees and thous. But we're still waiting for the "r" sound to come along and until then it makes life interesting to sometimes figure out what "wong way" and every other "r" sound weally mean. 

And while he's been talking for what seems forever, he still mixes up or makes up funny words. This morning... "I got up with Daddy; Emilie got up with Mommy; Joseph got up with Anybody." Sometimes I swear, we have another person in our house named Anybody. But Joseph likes to correct me that John Paul just means "nobody".

John Paul literally hops around in excitement every single day. The smile on his face, the twinkle in his eye, his crazy tongue that wiggles and sticks out when he's happy... he is one crazy little fella with a whole lot of spunk! Happy birthday, little man!

An "Ordinary" Day

Well this came out of the blue. A phone call from our Bishop Albert. Not that this wouldn't be entirely unexpected. I've written to him several times. Usually to complain about the way things are run. Last time it was to complain about how he said Mass for our Confirmation in Tisdale. He seemingly was making things up as he went along. I called him out for it, and backed up what I said with the proper citations. Then, nothing. Until now.

He wished to talk with me. I took a deep breath. We were going to have it out. Maybe I would get excommunicated? If so, I was going to go down swinging.

He began by asking... have I ever considered the diaconate? Huh! What? He took my dumbfounded silence as a cue to continue talking. He launched in a sales pitch. How the P.A. diocese is currently ordaining men to the diaconate. It's true. Two men from Nipawin will be ordained shortly. He then spoke on how he appreciates my fire for the Lord, and that this fire should be put to purposeful use. He mentioned several times the breath of the Holy Spirit, and how this breath must fill our own lives. He also brought up my situation of possessing an MA in Theology, and that they could fast track me for ordination, rather cheaply too he hinted at, by the time I reach the canonical age of 35.

Well, I stammered, I'd need to think about this, and even talk with my wife. That's sort of a big deal. A deacon? Me?!?

So Becca and I talked about it and... breath of the Holy Spirit... that line just never escapes me.. I took a deep breath of my own a week later and replied to him with a great big yes!

How could I not! It's a new chapter! It's new life! Spring is here! It's already April the 1st. Time to look forward. Deacon Dan. Created right out of the ordinary.

Te Deum!

UPDATE:

Yeah right, eh.