"No you can't eat that candy cane. Hop in the van. It's time for Christmas!"

My wife and I load our three excited young children in the van and drive out for a brisk sparkle tour before Midnight Mass. It is -20, a definite improvement from last year. We are excited that we should get 15 minutes of looking at lights before the rear windows ice up completely. However, the sparkle tour is disappointing. It seems that large sections of streets this year have zero lights for display. So we trundle off to Midnight Mass.

It's 7:50pm, of course. Midnight Mass is a thing of the past. Yes, our seven year old asks why Midnight Mass is not at midnight. "Because Jesus is born early this year I guess," is all I can muster in reply.

The church is half full (to be positive). Just fifteen years ago it was necessary to arrive thirty minutes early in order to ensure a seat. My wife asks me why there are giant blue and yellow streamers in the sanctuary. "Maybe it's for Ukrainian Christmas?" I offer.

Mass begins. The choir director invites us to join in Go Tell it On the Mountain. We live on the prairies. It is sung by a choir of six heavenly angels. These ladies are old. Some very old. But they have their sway all worked out. They rock in unison as they sing. Active participation indeed. "Don't look," I remind myself. Otherwise I am sure to smirk, and that would be rude. You cannot control what you hear, but you can control what you see. Custody of the eyes is important for Catholics. Especially in these desperate times of modern worship. But deep down I am pleased. At least it is not Mary Did You Know? Not this year.

As the Mass continues my wife and I quickly notice that our two year old daughter, usually quite sweet at Mass, is flying off the wall. It is my parent's parish, and so perhaps she does not interiorly connect that this too is Mass. Or she joins in the playfulness of the mood. The homily involves the children in the church by the sanctuary while the priest asks them questions. "What do you do on your birthday?.. Do you get presents?.. Do you have friends come over?" In an instance the homily becomes comedy hour. However, the cuteness soon wears off, the priest/children session becomes awkward in length. It is too much for my daughter, and so my wife makes the walk of shame (or glory, for the daughter) to the back of the church.

The children return to their pews. Father continues his Q&A with the entire congregation. We are asked for a show of hands for several intense questions. "Who here has ever driven to ________?... Have you ever stepped on something in the middle of the night?... Do you like light better than darkness?... Who here thinks they will live longer than 120 years?" The profoundness is lost on me. I will not ever understand the point. Not if I live past 120 years. Mercifully the homily ends. My daughter returns with her mom. Two minutes later I am forced to remove the same daughter. She never talks this much at Mass.

At the back of the church I gently walk her around. There is another toddler present. He is knocking over ornaments on a tree while his mother tries to reason with him. From the once choir loft which now is for overflow seating (in the improbable event of a full church) I hear loud dance music blasting from someone's phone. The consecration begins. I note that the front half of the church kneels down. The back half sits. "Don't judge," I once again remind myself. "They could maybe all have knee problems. And that might not be gum they're chewing... it could be necessary pain medication."

Communion time. I mistakenly look up once. There strolls a fine young man sporting a smart looking ball cap as he approaches our Lord. My eyes snap back down. "Stop looking man!" I angrily scold myself. Before long the strife, er Mass, is o'er. Well, almost. There is time for a couple more minutes of comedy from the priest. The night is young, after all. We will surely be back at the house before 9:30pm. The final hymn begins. A combination of Joy to the World and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Again, I am thankful that it is not All I Want for Christmas is You, or worse, the ever offensive Baby It's Cold Outside.

I bring my family to the crèche scene. Baby Jesus lies in his manger. He looks absolutely perfect. He positively radiates with beauty and joy. His mother is gazing at Him with a loving affection never before seen on earth. The chit chat from the church pews is blocked from my mind. Finally I can open my eyes and soak in the enormity of what is happening. "Kiss baby Jesus, please?" asks my daughter. My wife lifts the babe to her lips. She gives the sweetest kiss. One only a two year old girl can give. Jesus is placed next to His mother once more. With one final genuflection we file out of the church and into the frigid van. Our Dominican friars Christmas album turns on automatically. The tender words echo: "Christ was born to save. Christ was born to save."

It is sobering to watch a parish fade into oblivion with nothing more than a whimper. To look on in silence while the entire night screams triumphantly: "It cannot be fixed! It is over!" Perhaps it cannot be fixed. Not this. An inauspicious fifty years of toil has reaped somberness of spirit and waves of darkness. Yet the light will never be totally extinguished, for reasons that the dark can never comprehend. The little girl who kisses Jesus so sweetly will bear this light forth. And the boys who love solemnities because they can wear ties to Mass. Families, few and far between, will pass on the faith in the home, if it be lacking in the church. Traditions, and their "dead" language of praise, will survive the scourge. Reverence will be returned to the sacrifice of the Mass. Perhaps only in an extraordinary form, by a future generation. This much is certain: Christ loves His Church, and all the dear children. He was born for these times. Christ was born to save.

William Kurelek's "Ancient Beauty Ever Old and Ever New"

William Kurelek's "Ancient Beauty Ever Old and Ever New"

What I Read in 2018

It would be way too much work to rewrite this because I would have to upload all of the pictures again. Therefore, I link to my What I Read in 2018 post at Bravest Thing. Please read it HERE.

Hint: Oscar Wilde makes the list.

Veils, Vernacular, and Culture: Death and All of its Friends

Who killed Latin in the Mass? Are you happy about it?

You shouldn't be. Read my latest over at Bravest Thing.

The Bellyaching Attack on Christmas Carols

There is an article I wrote over at Bravest Thing on secular attacks against Christmas carols. Please check it out HERE.

Concert Videos - 2018

Last night was the Christmas concert. There were a couple of hiccups with the sound system, but that meant that we did more acapella singing (which is always very beautiful with young voices).


Anyway, because some people like to see what I did each year, here are two samples. We filmed them during rehearsal time. Enjoy.

Acoustic Versions:

Homeschool Notes: November

Morning Basket
Learning the refrain for "Chritus Vincit". Joseph's poetry was "The Duel".

Reading Saint Pius X: The Farm Boy Who Became Pope and The Adventures of Pippi Longstocking.

 

And a few fun picture books we've been discovering or re-reading:

   

  

Catechism

Faith and Life Series, grade 2 Jesus our Life

Saint Joseph First Communion Catechism

A Little Book About Confession for Children

Saints for Young Readers

We alternate between these four books, depending on the day/saint. We are currently working our way through A Little Book About Confession for Children, which is a fabulous Q&A book to prepare your child for First Confession. We hope Joseph will receive his sometime before or during Lent.

The kids dressed up for Halloween, but also changed (or modified) costumes for saints. They attended Mass on All Saints' Eve all dressed up and our priest was thrilled. We have Saint Philip Neri, Saint Hedwig, and Saint George.

Language Arts
Joseph has been reading lots of Magic Treehouse and I Survived books. Our library has a reading challenge going on this month with entries for every book. He's hoping his dozens of books will get him a winning draw.

Working through beginner grammar: nouns, action and linking verbs, basics of sentence and paragraph writing.

Spelling. Dictation. Sentence/paragraph writing. Copywork.

Math
Money. Time to 5 min. Addition/subtraction up to 14 (I think). Measurement. Carrying. Triple-digit addition/subtraction. Very basic multiplication. Fractions. Etc.

Social Studies
Studying Japan and Thailand. Still loving Around the World with Picture Books. Below are pictures of our (very UNglamorous) Chinese cuisine night (Chinese pancakes and ginger beef stir fry) and our Japanese cuisine night (sushi, meso soup, and Japanese dumplings). The kids all agreed that they did not like sushi, even just cucumber sushi, and wrote their dislike in their notebooks.

Science
Studying beginning astronomy definitions: astronaut, astronomy, navigation, position of planets, planet names, etc. Make balloon sized planets for size reference.

We did an experiment afternoon with friends making different kids of goop, but I don't have pictures to show for it. Maybe I was too busy cleaning up the crazy mess!

Science fair. Project on simple machines. Joseph had lots of fun with this.



Art
Part of our Thailand unit for Social Studies included the story The Lotus Seed about a Vietnamese woman forced to leave her homeland and move to the United States. She treasures a lotus seed (sacred to Vietnamese) and finds joy and love in her growing family years down the road. We drew lotus flowers and used water colours to paint.

The Tempest's Sigh

There are moments in life when everything is an uphill, or rather mountainous, struggle. A tempest even. While no one I've ever met can claim to have suffered calamity to the extent that Job did, we all nevertheless find solace in the story of Job, knowing that God often permits hard times for our benefit. None of us can profess perfect innocence, but we all can be perfected through trial. The problem, of course, is being overwhelmed when the tempest strikes.

To be perfectly sarcastic, I'm having a most wonderful time since the new school year started. Among other things, I decided to speak up more when needed. Be a leader and all. A phrase I admire is: Speak the truth in charity. So I've been trying it out for size.

Apparently the truth in charity is not appreciated. It's as if I forgot to read the rest of the Gospels. You know, the part where Jesus is crucified for speaking truth in charity. Except Jesus is truth and charity. Jesus I am not, but I do have tempests all around me. I have tempests at work. I have tempests with my bishop. I have tempests every which way. That mountainous struggle is real. Sometimes I throw up my arms and say, "Get me out of here!"

"Get me out of here!" Thoughts race through my head like a thousands of snow flakes falling to the ground at once. It's the thought of knowing that the next day will be more of the same. And the day after that. Probably the next as well. "Defend me O God and plead my cause" is imparted with fervour. Same too the need to "hope in the Lord." Thoughts buzz around all day. Swarming thoughts. Then nighttime comes. Time to put the kids to sleep. Lay down with the four year old. Finish a rosary. The mind is still buzzing. The fingers feel a charge. Breaths are shorter than usual. "Hope in the Lord." Repeat the psalm. Why is this student doing this? Why did that person storm out of a meeting? What complaint will that one parent come up with next? More pulsing thoughts. You can feel them surge in the veins. They trouble the body as well as the mind and soul. Surging thoughts.

And then, like a breath from heaven, comes a simple "Sigh."

A sleeping four year, nestled in my arms, with not a care in the world other than that he is sleeping in his dad's arms, and it is peaceful. It is right and just and inexplicable. World. What world? Only right here. "Sigh." A most blessed and contented sigh of heavenly sleep which asks: "Isn't this great dad?"

In the dark I ponder. Yes, it sure is great. And won't I miss these days when they are all said and done. Will I remember a few months of metaphorical mountain climbing? That times were tough at work? That I stood up for something and it was, gasp, difficult to do? That I wasn't always well liked? That God insisted that I actually turn to Him for help?

I will remember a "Sigh." The tempests will come and go, and probably come again. "Hope in the Lord" and move on. But "Isn't this great dad? Aren't we blessed?"

We sure are son. We sure are.

Sigh.

The Episcopal Leviathan

Originally Posted at Bravest Thing

Recently the ordinary in my diocese, Bishop Albert Thevenot, released a letter regarding funding for Development and Peace (D&P). In the letter Thevenot explained how D&P, the Canadian Catholic Bishop's charity responsible for social justice (is there a justice on earth which does not involve society?), was finally reprimanded during lent for funding anti-life agencies. The Canadian Bishops withheld their yearly lenten cash haul to D&P. The decision was several years too late, but welcome nonetheless. In the Catholic Church these days, Leviathan that it has become, you take what you can get. 

And so, Thevenot explained the position with Development and Peace. He stated D&P has given no assurance of refraining from funding agencies with policies contrary to Catholic moral teaching - "Dark clouds seem to hover over Development and Peace at this time." Well and good. Why should bishops provide money which supports evil agencies? It all seems so obvious and utterly not worth stating. Like calling rain wet, puppies cute, or bagpipes out of tune. Cue the next paragraph.

"After much discernment, however, I have decided to forward the 2018 Lenten Campaign collections to Development and Peace with a clear indication that the sum should only be used for projects approved by the CCCB."

Mic drop. Jaw drop on my part as well. “As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool repeats his folly” (Proverbs 26:11). Let's get the facts straight: D&P is guilty of grave misdoings. D&P is continuing in these grave misdoings. They are unrepentant and therefore untrustworthy. "Dark clouds hover over" the organization. Therefore D&P is being sent more money (because they are untrustworthy?). Bishop Thevenot then dedicated two and a half additional paragraphs gushing over the work that D&P has accomplished.

This work, one must ascertain, includes a very 'poor' charity rating (a mediocre C+), an appalling 21% of funds spent on administration with many salaries exceeding $100,000, as well as the fact that the Canadian government already funds over $20 million yearly to D&P's plump budget. All of this incompetence, however, is but minor when considering D&P's funding of immoral organizations. The saints, including St. Thomas Aquinas, define justice as giving what each person deserves or is owed (II-II, Q. 58). Development and Peace, an organization which has funded immoral agencies, and remains unrepentant, certainly is not owed more money! To do so is an act of injustice. But one must not plead for justice in 2018. Not when mercy provides license to sin.

I wrote a letter to Bishop Albert and pleaded for even a slight amount of logic, that great connector to the Logos, to be considered. I asked for him to ponder the possibility that, maybe just maybe, not all laity are stupid sheep who are rather fond of being treated like a punching bag, one that spits out money every time it is hit. Alas, punching bags should remain silent and I have certainly said too much.

No, I will say more. Much more. 

Why not utilize the illogical argument in our favour? Dear Bishop (you can use this for your own bishop some time): I have noticed that my hard earned money which I tithe to my parish has a portion taxed and entrusted to the diocesan coffers. I have decided, after much discernment (which, of course, is always infallible), to continue giving money to my parish with a clear indication that the sum must not be used to fund untrustworthy organizations, namely your diocese. Indeed, dark clouds seem to hover over it. Signed, Punching Bag.

The Leviathan. Photo Credit: politicaexterior.com

What I have just explained is certainly not the most grievous and pressing issue amongst bishops and all Catholics at this time. We are in the times of, as Anthony Esolen calls, the irreal. Unreal is hardly believable. Irreal defies all conception of normalcy, order, and logic. Yet it is emblematic of what we are in the midst of. When 137 American bishops are incapable of agreeing to request that Pope Francis release files on sex abuser ex-Cardinal McCarrick, it is irreal. When these same bishops call on Cardinal Mahoney, Mr. $720 million-man in payouts for his episcopal misdeeds of covering up abusers, to address these same bishops on how to handle abuse, it is irreal. When in the same week the majority of U.S. bishops refuse to budge on addressing what is wrong while preparing to ask the American Catholic for money to fund themselves, it is irreal.

No, my little squabble with my bishop is insignificant, yet remains emblematic. Accordingly, responding to my bishop might be insignificant, but it also is emblematic.

It actually takes a lot of nerve and righteous anger to step up and write a bishop. I referenced the Leviathan earlier. The giant fish-like creature Leviathan appears in the bible several times. I actually refer to philosopher Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan. For Hobbes, life is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short." A mega structure of power, the Leviathan, is necessary to keep any semblance of order, otherwise those evil underlings will destroy and corrupt each other. We are all just back-stabbing murderers at heart. Thus, the subjects of the Leviathan are to quake in its presence, to fear and tremble while timidly obeying. One harkens Machiavelli's famous line, "It is better to be feared than loved." When bishops act with little or no regard for their subjects, the subject's money, the subject's received abuse, nor the logic in the subject's pleas, they wield a mighty sword indeed. A Leviathan rules. The Episcopal Leviathan demands obedience to the irreal because it believes the subjects are incapable of fighting back against the iron rule. I answer that this necessitates, all the more, faithful Catholics to speak out against such a rule.

When the faithful Catholic speaks out against irrealism from the episcopacy they must expect ridicule, difficulties, and a slow drawn out martyrdom for the faith. Nevertheless, bring justice. Bring truth. Bring charity. Bring what is real. Expect strife. Expect pain. Expect ridicule. And expect a gentle nudge of peace and warming love from the Holy Spirit. But for the love of souls: Speak out. These are not the times for apathy. A small voice is still a voice. Many small voices make a loud voice. Death comes for us all. We all answer to Jesus. The Church is not a Leviathan. Do not permit it to be run as one. Dear faithful Catholics: speak out. 

Editor's note: Bishop Albert Thevenot can be reached at bishop.assistant@padiocese.ca

The Church in a Nutshell

In a modern office tower, high above the enervated city, and far away from the complaints of disgruntled and annoying customers and local managers, sit the council of company executives.


"Sales are down. Profits are down. Bums in seats are down..."


"Easy there Denny. Why so negative? We're doing a great job!"


"Listen Toby, the data on our new menu is here as well. Since we switched from certified beef to artificially flavoured vegan patties, no one seems to be buying them. I mean, especially not our loyal customers. And I don't blame them. The patties are awful."


"Loyal customers can go to the soup kitchen where they belong! All they care about is the way it was. We need to be relevant. The loyal customers don't know what's good for them. The leader of our company said so! Are you accusing him?"


Denny slunk back into his executive leather chair. Better to remain silent. True, things will never change with silence, but standing up to Toby, Warren and Stoopie is career suicide. Those three always seem to be favoured. Like that time they got caught sending money as a payout for spitting in some burgers. Just a harmless spit they said. Instead of being disciplined they were promoted. Yes, best to stay silent.


Just then Chief Executive, Mr. Stoopie, arose and, with a hint of trembling in his voice, began to speak:


"So... about this issue of feeding customers poison, well, food laced with poison... more like maybe just a bit of harmful chemicals, probably not anyone's fault, uh that's all... um, people are mad. I had a manager at one of my stores burn the poison, sorry, chemicals publicly. I chased him out of town, that son of a..."


"It was all about careerism," jumped in the recently retired executive, Mr. Warren. Mr. Warren was one of those executives who retire but never really leave. Like an unwanted guest. One might even say the word 'cancer' would describe the position. "It was careerism that made so many of our employees lace the food with pois, er, chemicals."


By now Denny's head was hurting. Careerism? He wanted to speak out again. Remember Vinnie? What happened to him when he spoke out? Let's just say he never flipped another burger again. Not that he would mind. Flipping artificially flavoured vegan patties is something Vinnie would've rather avoided.


 "So where do we go from here?" stammered Mr. Stoopie. "We need a strategy. It's not like we can stop our employees, or managers, from lacing food with chemicals. I mean, we can be there for them. But they're people too, right? How does stopping someone build bridges for our company? Pardon my wit, but we are a company that accompanies"


"That's why we attack those attackers!" triumphed Toby. "We accuse them of accusing!"


"Here Here!" - Chimed in Warren, Stoopie and several other executives.


"Now," continued Toby, "about those plummeting profits, lawsuits by customers, restaurant closures, negative media attention, and overall distrust amongst the public... I motion that we give ourselves a raise."


Here Here!" - Chimed in Warren, Stoopie and several other executives.



Gifts on St. Nicholas Day?

Remember when, in some Catholic circles, handing out gifts on St. Nicholas's feast day was a thing? I don't mean hiding a few candies in the shoes of children (aren't Catholics weird?.. I love it), I speak of full out Christmas presents given on December 6th instead of December 25th. The rationale being that making Christmas so heavily connected to the excitement of opening presents impedes the spiritual celebration of Christ's birth. Never mind the gold, frankincense and myrrh. I present to you several considerations on the matter. Suffice it to say my thesis statement on the matter is that Christmas presents should be handed out on, well, Christmas.

Photo Credit: Common Sense Media

On Near Occasions

It is true that gift-giving can diminish the spiritual understanding of Christmas. So too can wine, annoying relatives, lack of sleep, over-cooked turkey and, of course, Mariah Carey Christmas music, assuming that she is not addressing Jesus when she sings that all she wants for Christmas is "you". The point being that gift-giving, like other honoured traditions observed at Yuletide, always has the possibility to produce spiritual harm. Life is full of spiritual risks, even when doing the right task or following one's proper vocation. To join a monastery is to be in a near-occasion for gossiping about Brother Superior. To become a mother is a near-occasion for sleep-deprived anger at a child who eats crayons for a snack. To give bread to the hungry is a near-occasion for prideful selfies, #imahero. Good and wholesome activities, or vocations, can produce spiritual risks.

Does gift-giving in honour of Christ's birthday spoil the spiritual celebration of Christmas? It's possible. If it does, however, I think it is the fault of the person or family. If your child is singing "all I want for Christmas is you" while staring lovingly at his presents, perhaps there is a deeper need than simply dishing out presents on December 6th. Perhaps instead he needs some parental counseling in the matter, grace too, and a good example set by the parents. Then go to Mass on Christmas day, sing the holy carols, lay the baby in the manger while reading the bible and finally, once this message is good and clear, open the presents in thanksgiving and joy for the special day. The special day being Christ's birthday.

On Advent as Penance

To the people who move gift-giving to the feast of St. Nicholas in order to uphold Christmas I ask: What about upholding advent? Advent is a penitential time made with joyful hope (or a hopeful time filled with penance, depending on how you view it). Moving gift-giving to advent is completely against the nature of this holy preparation. Consider the person who does a workout so that he can eat cake later (I know, I know, shameful). What if, in the middle of the workout, the person brought out the double fudge cake and started eating? And then, once the cake crumbs are dusted off the ole Nike dry-fit compression high performance workout shirt, it's back to ab crunches and arm curls? Workouts and double fudge cake don't mix. Neither should advent and Christmas presents. Fasting and feasting should be done in proper order.

On St. Nicholas as Gift-Giver

Gifts are given in honour of Christ's birthday. Thank St. Nicholas' generosity for being the precursor to this tradition. Now there have been past Eastern traditions involving St. Nicholas' day and gifts. But in the Western world let me repeat: gifts are given in honour of Christ's birthday.

On Common Sense

Let me conclude by reiterating that Catholic traditions, though many are quirky and bizarre, follow a spiritual common sense. A water fight on the feast of St. John the Baptist is actually logical. Same too for watching a movie on the feast of St. Clare, or eating a croissant in honour of Our Lady of the Rosary. If a trendy "tradition" arises which causes good honest Catholics to go "huh?" then a violation of common sense might be occurring.

That families seek to maximize the spiritual meaning of Christmas is laudable. Yet this must be done using reasonable methods. Moving present time away from Christmas is to put the cart before the horse. Rather than move the gift-giving, work on instilling gift-giving as adding to the joyful celebration of the birth of Christ. Perhaps fewer gifts can be given if necessary. Or gifts can also be given for the less fortunate. But for heaven's sake, don't mix up feast days! Keep Christmas, and all of its traditions and gift-giving, as the ultimate end of advent. More importantly, teach your children why you do these traditions. To quote the apostle of common sense, GK Chesterton:

“The great majority of people will go on observing forms that cannot be explained; they will keep Christmas Day with Christmas gifts and Christmas benedictions; they will continue to do it; and some day suddenly wake up and discover why.”

– 'On Christmas,' Generally Speaking

Music Mondays: Misty Mountains

Originally Posted at Bravest Thing. But hey, I can post it here too right?

Imagine if Moses had to fight a ferocious green-scaled dragon on Mount Sinai before he took possession of the ten commandments. Oh the plot development! One could surmise that the plague-filled exodus of Moses and the Israelites from Egypt clearly was not attention grabbing enough. Or suppose Thomas More successfully battled off two hundred imperial soldiers with only a small mace before he finally perished at the backstabbing hands of Henry VIII. Further, consider the greatness of creating two elvish characters and having them, for no real purpose, fall in love in The Hobbit. I guess this last scenario was criminally accomplished by Peter Jackson already, of whom I would figure had too many full pints of Brie ale before directing The Hobbit. Not that I bothered to finish watching his work. I can only take so many punches in the metaphorical gut before I give up on a movie.

Why do we try to "improve" what is great by removing the actual greatness and replacing it with prideful dribble? That Peter Jackson could have a craftier way than J.R.R. Tolkein of turning three trolls into stone is, well, let's just say mind-boggling is not a strong enough term. Yet this is done frequently. Did the world really need a newer version of The Miracle on 34th Street? Apparently Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell wasn't ridiculous enough on its own so it needed Uncle Kracker (insert: who?) to further destruct the sacred hippy-hymn. Why pave a paradise only to put up a parking lot? So too consider Disney remakes of Cinderella, Jungle Book, and now Aladdin. Perhaps Home Alone is due for a face lift; why not have the mom be left at home? I'm sure she'd appreciate it. And To Kill a Mockingbird could use some social justice revising, perhaps if Atticus Finch was a woman and the real struggle was for equality of women in the midst of a male dominated attorney industry. Finally, don't get me started about creativity in the liturgy.

With this in mind, I bring you today's Music Monday: The Misty Mountains. I am a huge fan of the novel... you know... "Bravest Thing" and all... it comes from The Hobbit...ahem, anyway... Most people I ask about The Hobbit movie say that the early scenes with the dwarves singing are the best parts. The movie peaked too soon and it's all downhill from there. So why is this scene so popular? It is neither hip nor cool. Nor does it rely on famous actors and mythical romance, though perhaps Uncle Kracker would be a fine name for a dwarf. In fact, the scene is reminiscent of some form of Celtic chant. Chant. That "music" which we are supposed to shun. The point is ironic to some, but as obvious as the sun in the sky to me: The scene is true to the great book of Tolkein, and that is why people love it.

The dwarves sing about their upcoming journey. The yearning of the words is matched only by the sombre intensity of the tune. Tolkein writes:

Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

Leaving greatness to speak for itself is why I have posted this selection for Music Monday. 

Unfortunately, we are like the dragon sitting on the pile of unused treasure. We ignore the treasure and gush over cracker jack plastic rings, or other innovations which are loosely based on the original treasure. Instead we must actually open these treasures of art, liturgy, and literature. Indeed, to further quote the dwarves:

We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Let us claim our treasure indeed.

The movie version:

A longer version:

Families: Being a Sign the World is to Be Practical

A selection from my latest article:

"How can a family, particularly a Catholic family open to life, be a sign of hope to the world? How can you be the Gospel for people when you are completely fatigued from wiping noses, cleaning food off walls, and bribing two year olds with Smarties for using the potty? You cannot give what you do not first have, and I think many Catholic families struggle with day-to-day life. "Lord make me a channel of Your peace" is replaced with "Lord, if that kid spits on me one more time! I swear I'm gonna..."

And further:

"People sleep train kids. They day-care train them to handle day after day in the care of others. I say, why not prayer-train them? Not every day will be perfect, just as not every day in prayer is an overwhelming success. But it can be done, and by God’s grace, done well. Only by silent mental prayer (in addition to family vocal prayer) can a family fulfill its mission to the world."

Read the rest of it over at Bravest Thing. Click HERE.

Photo credit: pixtastock.com

The One Thing Necessary

I was reading the story of Martha and Mary from St Luke’s Gospel. Feeling tired and discouraged over my seeming endless daily tasks and lack of me-time, I groaned. I’m Martha, overwhelmed at my to-do list and full of complaints. Jesus tells her: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; and yet only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the better part…” I wanted to shout: “But Lord, you gave me this vocation as a wife and mother. These things – making meals, doing laundry, cleaning – they are all necessary.” Then I realized: He know that already. Of course He does.

So, what is this “better part”? Is it peace, rest, contentment?

I’ll be the first to admit I’m guilty of putting tasks before relationships. I’m often more concerned with getting my kitchen cleaned up than sitting down and snuggling my kids with a book (Yet, I’m a huge advocate for read-alouds and making those moments.). So, I think that it’s the proper place of relationships and priorities in life that is key to understanding this passage.

Letting go of the idea that I can “get it all done” if I work harder and longer – and that that will bring me peace. “Wasting” time with the people that matter the most: God, my family, good friends. Getting priorities straight so that people (especially God) matter more than things and status. Practicing simple mental prayer, and giving my day over to God. Accepting the busy-ness of life, and choosing to do the most important tasks. Doing my tasks in, with, and through Jesus; bringing Him into my daily grind.

Union with Christ. The “one thing necessary”? Yes.

May I learn to choose the better part. Today. Everyday.