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

Why the year of mercy has failed (and how to get it back)

The title makes me look like an expert on the subject. Of course I'm not. However, it doesn't mean I can't at least try to sound intelligent.

I've been thinking of writing about this for some time. Then, sure enough, I saw another article on it titled: Why Don't People Like Mercy?. I would bet many people have been reflecting on this theme. Even the Eye of the Tiber had an article: "Well, that was a complete bust," Francis tells crowd moments before cancelling remainder of the year of mercy. It seems that things have not gone as planned. This great year of mercy has come off as a bust. Not for all, thankfully, but in general it has been shrouded with indifference. That is indeed too bad. I'm sure Pope Francis had great and noble expectations for this year.

Yet God, yes in His mercy, can bring some good out of it. For starters, we can do some soul searching, and thus learn how to improve. So why hasn't the year of mercy panned out? And how can we get it back?



1) Logo

Marketing fascinates me. Product. Brand. Name. Z-Form. Light usage. What is portrayed. Marketing is important. Now mercy is not about marketing. Yet, the "brand" associated with mercy can certainly impede the message. The official logo for the year of mercy is a disaster. There is nothing appealing about it from the colour-scheme to the design, and especially to the three-eyed Jesus/sinner. What is the message? It is lost somewhere between the late 1960's Catholicism and the straight up weirdness.


2) Disconnect with St. Faustina's Divine Mercy

Following on the official logo, many Catholics were very surprised that St. Faustina's Divine Mercy image was not the official logo. Why not? It is tried, tested, and true. It inspires devotion. What is more, and yes I speak of private revelation, it was commissioned by Our Lord Himself. Catholics immediately connect this image with mercy. Can you imagine if a country was going to host the Olympics and they already had a perfect stadium, one that has successfully held huge events in the past, all ready for use. But the country instead decides to build a new stadium, based on modern art design. The new stadium fails. The old one sits vacant. No one understands why. That sort of is the feel with St. Faustina's Divine Mercy image.

3) No Need (as believed by some)

We all need mercy. Yet there are some who still believe they do not. In my own parish there used to be a priest, years and years ago, who would tell everyone in confession that they hadn't actually sinned. "And I hit my brother..." "That's not a sin!" "Oh, well I lied to my teacher..." "That's not a sin!" And on and on it went like that. Years later very few people go to confession in this parish. Even with the current priest ALWAYS waiting in the confessional. The people have been numbed into believing they are generally good people, and thus do not need confession. A year of mercy, then, is for doing nice things for the poor. Nothing more. This severely cheapens what mercy really is. God came to call sinners.


4) Mercy = License

Of course, some have taken the message of mercy too far, to the point that God forgives all things we do, whether we truly repent or not. As I stated in my previous blog post, Fr. Rolheiser was insinuating this belief on facebook, and people were eating the message up. One person accused me, after I quoted the catechism, of putting my own interpretation on the catechism in such a way as to limit God's love. All I said was: 

"CCC1033 on Hell: 'We cannot be united with God unless we freely choose to love him. But we cannot love God if we sin gravely against him, against our neighbor or against ourselves.' It is certainly possible for heresy, sexual immorality, or even willfully abandoning the Church precepts, to constitute a grave sin."

Nope. To suggest dying in the state of mortal sin can put us in hell is to use the catechism against God's love. Or so I was told. 

Once mercy/love is used as a license for whatever goes, it actually does not become mercy anymore. It becomes a license for relativism.


5) Overplayed Message

For a while at Mass it seemed as if every statement made by the priest or commentator had to begin with: "In this year of mercy..." For instance: "In this year of mercy, let us begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son..." or, "In this year of mercy, let us offer our intentions to the Lord..." or, "In this year of mercy, there will be coffee and cake after Mass." It's been over done. Such that a zoning out has occurred. It's natural to zone out an overplayed message. Just like an overplayed song on the radio. People tune out.


6) A Touch of the Bizarre

By bizarre I mean not so much in concept as in appearance, especially to those less familiar to the Catholic Church. First there was confusion over the sin of abortion being forgiven only in the year of mercy, as if it wasn't forgiven before. This is nonsense. Then there is the deal with the priests of the Society of St. Pius X. Confessing to them during this year of mercy will actually forgive your sins (faculties). But confessing to them the day after this year of mercy will not. I hold out hope that Pope Francis is working at resolving this issue (!). Also we've learned about these Missionaries of Mercy, mercy priests?, who have special orders from the pope to deal with different situations. Finally, there's the whole deal concerning the doors of mercy. Pass through this door and obtain mercy. There is actually a pious tradition behind this, though I think it could have been better explained. For instance, I have not once heard mentioned the conditions required in order to obtain a plenary indulgence. People who walk through the holy doors and expect to go straight to heaven when they die may be saddened to hear there are other conditions attached.  All in all, to the non-Catholic, or even casual Catholic, there is a hint of oddness to this year.


7) Synod

It cannot be understated how the recent Synod on the Family, and accompanying exhortation Amoris Laetitia, has dampened the joie de vivre of many Catholics (myself included). The obsession of many on Communion for those living in adultery has been promoted by some (Kasparites) as mercy. This should have been squelched a long time ago. Yet it continues to linger. Love without Truth is not Love at all. Promoting mortal sin is the opposite of mercy. The effects of the Synod have scarred the year of mercy.

What can be done?

WYD

The year of mercy is certainly salvageable, but action must be done quickly. There is a tremendous opportunity for a revival of this holy year. I speak of World Youth Day (WYD). Although I don't care for WYD, I do see a golden opportunity based on WYD's location: Poland. Poland is, of course, where the message of Divine Mercy was received by St. Faustina. Poland holds dear to this message. It is at WYD that Pope Francis should go all out in reconnecting the year of mercy to Divine Mercy. The pathetic year of mercy logo should be mysteriously dropped. In its place should appear the true image of Divine Mercy. World Youth Day must draw from the Diaries of St. Faustina. The youth of the world should be introduced to this spiritual treasure. Further, given that this is Poland, a special appeal to Pope John Paul II's love for Divine Mercy, as well as the story of St. Maximilian Kolbe, should be evident. From WYD a turning point in the year of mercy can occur.


Year of Mercy

Following WYD, the words "year of" should also mysteriously start vanishing. If God's mercy is so important, which it is, then we should prepare to hear about it beyond this year of mercy. Not in the annoying and over done "In this year of mercy..." sense. But instead an "Our Lord is dying to forgive you! Come to confession!" sense. Mercy will continue beyond this year. Hopefully more people will be going to confession, beyond this year. Think long term. This connects with my final point...


Clarification

There are many other things that could be said. Ultimately what is needed is for Pope Francis to step up and state the obvious: people living in an objective state of adultery must refrain from Holy Communion. He can hug them, cry tears with them, even kiss their babies, but ultimately the year of mercy needs an injection of clarity. Clarity on what is, and isn't, mercy. Clarity on what is sin, and how the Church can help. Without this clarification the year of mercy will continue to lack appeal for many faithful Catholics. It will continue to lack depth. It will continue to fail. In short, we need to know we are sinners! Only then will we understand our need for mercy. This year of mercy needs more sin! For, as St. Peter says:

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed." 1 Peter 2:24

Cardinal Virture of Mercy

I was going to write a post about mercy, or rather what mercy isn't. It seems that certain Cardinals in the Church are confused, and clearly need some enlightening. Some think that it is mercy to allow Holy Communion for those who live and persist in an adulterous situation. When I learned my catechism as a kid I was taught that such conduct was actually sacrilegious, and even blasphemous. Others think it is mercy to allow groups representing homosexuality to march in a parade (in theory) dedicated to a Catholic saint. 

The reasons for such "mercy" are plentiful. My personal favourite reasons revolve around Scripture. Take a verse or story. Preferably a parable. Then show that Jesus approves of such mercy. The parable of the prodigal son, for instance. "See how merciful God is! No matter what, we must also show such mercy!" 

Like I said, I was going to write about this. But then Cardinal Burke beat me to the punch by saying, among other things in an interview, that "it simply makes no sense to talk about mercy which doesn't respect truth." Almost as if mercy and truth come from the same source, and cannot violate one another. Mercy surely is wonderful. I probably would have long been dead in a gutter somewhere without Christ's mercy. But it does not violate truth. Ever.

Sounds very Thomistic doesn't it? Like something someone would say during those rousing medieval days of the Knights Templar...

So I won't say anything about it.

I'll just put up a couple boring pictures of us eating supper outside in late September.

As for Cardinal Burke... he was demoted last week.


He'll now be in charge of the Knights Templar.