"Peace, man."

The existential cry of the hippy lives on in the Catholic Church. While prolife, male, white, Catholic teenagers from Covington are subject to virulent unicorn-esque condemnations from the liberals of America, a large portion of Catholics are guilty of having joined in on the mob attack. Some Catholics have since retreated, perhaps grasping at some natural reality that black is not white, up not down, and receiving death threats because of one's prolife, male, white Catholicity is not actually criminal, at least not this time. Yet rather than take the next logical step of actually defending the Covington teens, many Catholics are simply content to offer a "peace, man", and let those prolifers fend for themselves.

For instance, at Bishop Barron's ingratiating website we encounter the typical hippy Catholic mantra. Writer Elizabeth Scalia opines that we must do better at being peaceful, and that we should just appreciate the anthem: "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me"? I am not making this up. In other words: "Peace, man", unless of course you are a prolife, male, white Catholic.

This is not what peace is. Peace is not simply an absence of war, all the while possessing inner serenity. Peace requires justice. Justice requires order. Order requires action. When seventeen year old pro-life, male, white Catholics are attacked by racist and hateful bigots, it is not peaceful to retreat in order to find one's inner strength and harmony. Life happens in real time. Virtue must be habitual and readily applicable. Evil must be immediately fought when presented. How long must people retreat before they decide they are personally peaceful enough to defend an innocent person? One day? One week? One year? Justice at times demands immediate action. Inner peace is not achievable while omitting one's Christian duty.

Consider Samwise Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings. He is presented with a glimpse into the future by the Marian-like Queen Galadriel. Sam observes that the Shire is not what it should be, and he even shouts out: "There's that Ted Sandyman a-cutting down trees as he shouldn't. […] I wish I could get at Ted, and I'd fell him!"

Sam demands to return to the Shire. His aiding Frodo in conquering the powers of evil is lost on him; he would rather save some pleasant trees near his home. Sam's demand is ultimately for personal wants, and not for true peace and order.

The Mirror of Galadriel by Alan Lee

Galadriel gently reminds Sam that he is pressed into service for a greater deed, and that if he chooses to reject his duty he will never encounter true peace in his own land of the Shire. In other words, peace in our own lives is fettered to fighting evil.

The story continues with Sam sitting on the ground in deep thought. Shaken by his vision, he becomes at war with himself. Finally, he offers: "I wish I had never come here, and I don't want to see no more magic,' […] and fell silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with tears. 'No, I'll go home by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or not at all.'"

Inner peace is needed; however, inner peace requires we fight the injustice presented to us. Peace is not simply retreating to one's pseudo-harmonious life, but rather it is, as Sam discovers, a long and difficult road of fighting for what is right. Indeed, in some cases the long road of peace goes through Covington.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero?

And everything I would like to be?"

Not just somethings, mind you. Everything. Or if Bette Midler doesn't satisfy your mood, try some Foo Fighters:

"There goes my hero. He's ordinary."

Heroes are everywhere. Heroes are everyone. From the soldier dying in battle to the brave mayor who secretly makes a sale of his own building to the new marijuana retailers in town, located on main street, by the children's gymnastics. But enough about the heroes of my town. The point is we are all heroes. Sure it can be too much to expect someone to quit smoking, or go to Mass one hour a week, or read to a child before bed. We don't have time for that. But heroes are busy like that.



Doing basic first aid makes you a hero too

For our upcoming Terry Fox day my grade fivers and I discussed what it means to be a hero. The ideas were the same. Caring. Being there for you. Strong. And surprisingly one student even suggested bravery. No mention of greatness. Nor sacrificial virtue. I tried to lead the discussion towards the fact that maybe, just maybe, we make heroes out of everyone, but that a true hero stands above all of this. You know us teachers can't get a point across to save our lives. Maybe I should record my lectures on YouTube. Then I would get some attention from students. Though deep down I know I'm there hero too.

When it came down to it, the students had to write a brief expository on who their hero is. All but one student chose a parent (cue the "Awwwwww!"). One little girl chose the Rock, Dwayne Johnson. "My mom is a hero because she gives me money to buy video games," was one of my favourites. The same mom whom I cannot meet with unless no fewer than three other staff members are present, for security reasons. Other heroic qualities I noticed were that it takes heroism to put a child in hockey, or dance, or to be left alone to play video games.

All is well and good. We need to champion mediocrity. It makes us oafs feel better. For St. John Paul II who stood up to communism, or even Terry Fox who ran a marathon a day with one leg and cancer in the lungs, we are thrilled to join your ranks. Now admire how I write this blogpost on my prep time at school. I didn't have to. I chose to. What's your superpower?

Meanwhile, a parting shot from Anthony Esolen in Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child:

“You democratize heroism. Everybody is a hero, and simply for doing (and often not well at that) the ordinary tasks of living as a half-decent person. Does your mother fix you breakfast? She is a hero. Does your father visit you every weekend without fail? A hero. Does your teacher mark your papers faithfully when you make a mistake? Unexampled heroism, that. If everyone is a hero, then no one is a hero; and genuine heroes will go unnoticed in all the mindless self-congratulation.”

Taking a Stand for Piety's Sake

A coworker of mine whispered over to me in the middle of another mindless staff meeting yesterday: "Did you watch the Patriot's highlights?" "No" I murmured back. "I can't stand the NFL right now." He nodded his head in agreement, and we both looked up at whoever was talking during the meeting. Something about staff encouraging each other with notes. That's what's lacking in our school system folks. Teachers need to encourage each other more with sticky notes.

Speaking of sticky situations (not my best segue), let's return to this NFL, or really a pro-sports in general problem that I can't stand. I mean, I can't stand it metaphorically. If I couldn't stand literally then I'd be lost. What I mean is... why the heck are all these athletes suddenly feeling a need to protest the national anthem before a game by kneeling instead of standing? In a spirit of unity, no less, they refuse to stand with the other 80,000 people in the stadium. The issue, I'm told, is one I will never understand. Racial inequality. Though let's be honest, they don't like Donald Trump and used his comments as an excuse to bring a little attention to themselves. Basketball superstar LeBron James and his 12th grade education can educate me on the subject later. Or maybe he can buy a professor to educate me. Or maybe he can buy an entire university by now and educate me. The point is this: "Just as religion is a protestation of faith, hope and charity, whereby man is primarily directed to God, so again piety is a protestation of the charity we bear towards our parents and country." Yes. I just switched from ranting to quoting St. Thomas and the Summa. II-II, Q. 101. Art. 3. 

You see, piety, how we direct our love and devotion to God, logically flows down to how we treat our parents and country also. The pious person not only worships God, but also gives due reverence to those he is indebted to. Now Aquinas distinguishes by saying that one cannot be pious to parent or nation if this is contrary to piety towards God. Can these pro athletes truly say that standing for their national anthem is contrary to piety towards God? Of course not. They can raise serious objections to the state of life in America. They can work towards improving the struggles of society. And let's be honest, can anything in America be worse then the slaughter of so many babies by abortion? This is not mentioned. But to claim that the state of America is so awful at the moment that to honour the country is essentially to slap God in the face? I don't believe so. 

However, I only speak all of this to raise a further objection. That is, what about the message being sent to children? I teach children all day. I'm sure I think about the impact events and circumstances have on children more than most people. What about the children? You see, the teacher I was whispering with during the staff meeting... the one who nodded in agreement with me... he had a new student move in last week. An aboriginal boy who has shown great disrespect to the staff, students and school in general. Well, the boy has refused to stand for our morning O Canada. He says Canada offends his culture. He says he has nothing to be proud of. He accuses the school of racism. Never mind the food he eats every day and the clothes he wears are provided by the school. Maybe we should just write him sticky notes filled with affirming words and kindness? Regardless, he refuses to stand for our anthem. Undoubtedly he has learned this from somewhere. And guess what? We are forcing him to. Not because we're mean. Not because we're racist. Not because we're sick of pro-athlete protests. No. We are forcing him to because it's the right thing to do. Whether or not this child realizes it, or LeBron James for that matter, we are indebted first and foremost to God, but also to our family and nation. And as long as these debts do not contradict each other, and I pray they never do, then we owe fitting piety. 

A day might come when our nations no longer can illicit the virtue of piety. And one could argue that the day is closer than we think. But I argue that we are not there yet. And hopefully never will be. And thus I take a stand on the matter.

Balancing Act

Ahh the good old days. It was all about balance in those days. I'm talking about my three years as a student at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom (formerly Academy). The key to life, happiness, holiness, was balance. And looking back, it was so easy. Yes many of us would wake up at 6am, go to the church and pray, serve at Mass, and then on to breakfast and classes. In between classes the time was set for doing our readings (which were always impossible to keep up on... get to the point Kant!). The day continued as such, and then there'd be some more prayer time, supper, chores, and usually a sports game. We'd then return to our houses to work on essays, study, and relax with friends. Bedtime, for me, was usually at 9:30pm. Weekends often involved essays, sports, spending time with friends, nature, and God. Occasionally even trips to Ottawa were arranged. Just wonderful time. The success of those days was the balance. God. School. Health. Friends. Recreation. Oh my, what a saint I was. Patron saint of perfect students. Patron saint of tightrope walkers, what with the perfect balance.

Looking back, although it seemed like it was a great effort to live a balanced life, we were actually spoon fed this balance. I mean, even our classes were scheduled around a proper balance such as Mass, meals, and sports. It's sort of like waking up in the morning, stumbling into the dining room, and seeing a perfectly cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon, with fresh coffee and orange juice, waiting before you. Yes, you can say: "I ate a hearty and balanced breakfast this morning!" But in reality, the breakfast is so evidently before you... how could you not?

Sigh.

Now it's time to think of the balance of "real" life as a married man with little kids, a job, and other commitments.

First off, waking up early: Check. Though it is more like stumbling out of bed and trying not to pass out on the floor before making it to the living room. Praying (not in the church): Check. Though the prayer is usually a: "please don't let me fall back asleep Lord, I need to get to work on time." And then it all sort of goes downhill from there. There is no opportunity for daily Mass (except for Wednesday nights). So I have to attempt very fervent spiritual communions, or risk living on spiritual fumes. But I'm sooooo tired to make fervent spiritual communions. Spiritual fumes can't be all bad, can they? Right? Work is hectic. It risks encompassing too much of my life. Bad for balance. Some teachers live at the school. Me, thankfully I have little kids to draw me away. They help with balance. Coming home from work involves never ending playing with the kids (which is fun!), chores, changing diapers (which is not fun!), and dealing with meltdowns. Eventually I guiltily steal away to the basement for a quick night workout, just like a knight in shining armour who abandons his princess in order to go play poker with the guys. Guilty as charged. But all in the name of balance! With the workout complete it's time for putting the kids to bed, night prayers, and maybe a bit of relaxation (aka watching sports). A night of restless sleep (Oh John Paul) brings more tiredness. The following pattern is repeated. But it is done increasingly poorly due to less and less sleep. Until by Friday night everything is survival mode. A balance is not yelling at the kids more than 10x a day. A balance is praying evening prayer without stopping 5x to blow someone's nose. A balance is actually spending 20 minutes playing with the kids versus collapsing on the couch and watching sports. In short, a balance, a very poor balance at that, is waaaay too much work. No more spoonfeeding for me. The voice in my head says: "You want something... get off your butt and work for it. I don't care if your tired." Suddenly I risk not replacing St. Joseph as the patron saint of married men. I'm like the patron saint of excuses.

I am grateful for my time at the (formerly known as) Academy. Though it was in hindsight easy, the experience of living such a balanced life has made me, however poorly, at least continue to strive for that balance. Yet life as I live it now also has it's perks. Whereas before I was spoon fed a balanced life, now I am spoon fed a life of sacrifice, dying to self, and love. In the end, there is one thing we are judged on. The one thing that must have no balance. That is love. Yes love is proven through sacrifice, virtue, and so on. But ultimately love must be the greatest of unbalances. To quote St. Jose Maria Escriva (The Way 427): "Lord, may I have balance and measure in everything...
                                                                                                                       ...except in love."

Defining Times

When I was studying for my Master's comprehensive examination I found it necessary to once again rememorize some basic definitions. Only with the definitions memorized could I then adequately expand upon what certain terms meant. Three definitions in particular I found myself coming back to were for the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Truth be known, I still come back to the definitions of these virtues. Never in my life have I seen such a need to continue to remember and reflect on what they are, and how they apply.

-  -  -

I'll never forget the moments leading up to the Mass I attended in Barry's Bay, ON, just two days after I was married. Before Mass began the priest went to the pulpit and stated in a simple manner that people needed his permission to post pamphlets at the back of the church. He said he was constantly removing a certain newsletter, but that it always seemed to return. Well these simple words were too much. There was a lady, no doubt the culprit, who stood up and started giving it to Father. Father responded by stating these newsletters were not allowed by the diocese, and that was that. I remember at one point the lady shouting back at him: "No, you're wrong!"

Undoubtedly the lady made a complete fool of herself. But what was she so upset about? Well, she had been planting the infamous Fatima Crusader at the back of the church. The Fatima Crusader, of course, is the publication that Fr. Nicolas Gruner, a Canadian, produced regarding the apparitions of Fatima and the need for the pope to consecrate (again... I might add) Russia. Fr. Gruner was suspended by Rome back in 2001. As you may know, Fr. Gruner died April 29th, and his funeral was May 9th.

Fr. Gruner's funeral apparently took place in a convention room, for he was not in good standing with the Church. The funeral ironically was declared a pontifical Mass, though it was a schismatic bishop who presided. I wonder if the lady who so furiously declared: "you're wrong!" to the priest in Barry's Bay some five years ago attended Fr. Gruner's funeral? Would she not think such circumstances are perhaps, what's the word, wrong?

And then I recall:

"Faith is the theological virtue by which we believe in God and believe all that he has said and revealed to us, and that Holy Church proposes for our belief, because he is truth itself" (CCC 1814).

Faith requires humility. The catechism teaches us that faith is to believe in all that God reveals, through "Holy Church." There is no "you're wrong" about what the Church teaches, or the need to remain in the Church. If your knowledge and insight surpasses the Church's, you have quite simply strayed from the truth. The Catholic Church has the fullness of truth. To step away from the Church is to step away from truth to some degree. People reject Christ's teachings on all sides and areas. Some are too harsh, some too wishy-washy. My faith gives me great peace and strength. Still though, for those praising the life and teachings of Fr. Gruner these past two weeks, he was suspended for a reason. The fullness of faith simply requires us to follow the Church.

-  -  -

It's a confusing, if not terrifying, world we live in. On one hand we have priests and lay people who, by all accounts should know better, yet are willing to live, and die, suspended from the Church for the sake of an interpretation towards a private revelation. On the other hand we have what I would figure a large majority of the Church either totally numb to the unprecedented problems of our time, or are even in cooperation with them. The new contraceptive pill seemingly that of homosexuality. I read that Christians are rapidly accepting the idea of gay marriage. Also just released were survey results stating the percentage of Christians in America is declining at an alarming rate, with Catholicism leading the way in this decline. There is so much confusion. Further, the more I look to the hierarchy of the Church, the more this confusion swirls. Did Archbishop Collins say he would change the new Ontario sex ed. curriculum to meet Catholic needs? Did he mean change or simply add to it? How did he not condemn Premier Wynne's work? I talked to different people on this, and got different interpretations. Or what about Archbishop Bohan of Regina working with teachers to create policies for transgender students? I silently wonder: will Canada eventually get a Winnipeg Statement 2.0 on this issue too?

The world is losing its collective mind. Sadly it must also be admitted that the human element of the Catholic Church is deeply divided. Not the teaching of Christ. This is, and always will be, presented and protected by Our Lord, His vicar, and all in union with Him. Yet I'm sure many modern day Catholics look more to the CBC than to the Magisterium when confronted with issues like same sex marriage, abortion, and so on. On the other hand, as stated earlier, there are Catholics who would rather look to a suspended priest then to the same Magisterium. Ultimately, the confusion and division is that Catholics are not uniting themselves to the Magisterium. And the Magisterium is not being taught with the clarity and vigour it deserves.

The Magisterium is a great treasure. Once upon a time I could walk into any class at the Calvinist-inspired Redeemer University and win any, I mean any, argument with a professor there because ultimately our argument would peel its way down to "you're believing that on your own accord, and I believe it because Our Lord left a Magisterium to guide us... why would he leave us to our own interpretations?" Once a certain professor, when I pressed him for how he knew what he said was truth, angrily shouted at me: "It's not the Magisterium!!" Always protesting. More and more people are agreeing with this man, in their own ways. It is a difficult time to be a Catholic. It is difficult to uphold the faith. Some days it can cause me to lose a little hope. Or more than a little hope. Such a hopeless world sometimes. Hopeless bunch of Catholics too.

And so we consider the virtue of hope.

"Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit" (CCC 1817).

In hope we trust not on our own power, but on that of Christ. In short, Christ promises His help and protection to lead us to heaven. People hate the Church? Don't lose hope. People hate you? Don't lose hope. Your own colleagues, neighbours, priests, bishops, family members are compromising the truth? Don't lose hope. Of course you cannot fight this on your own. But don't lose hope. The same priest who was attacked by the Fatima fanatic above used to always say to me: "Don't get discouraged. Don't ever get discouraged!" Hope is a theological virtue. Stay rooted to Christ and a mysterious thing will happen: You will persevere. Focus on Christ and the storm will not affect you. Focus on the storm and you will sink. In many ways we're very blessed to have difficult times. In difficult times it is very easy to tell if we are focusing on Christ alone, or on the storm around us. Hope in the Lord, and the faith of His Church.

-  -  -

In the end, let's be honest, it can be difficult to love people. Especially when a natural reaction is not love, but rather anger. Anger to be treated as such. Don't you ever just want to punch someone who arrogantly spits errors in your face? Indeed, charity enters the realm of supernatural.

"Charity is the theological virtue by which we love God above all things for his own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God" (CCC 1822).

I think the "for the love of God" helps me with that. Honestly, I don't always want to love someone who is working so ferociously to destroy all that is good and holy. On my own, I would never do it. Never. Why would I? But love, charity, is an act of the will. Not an act of the emotions. The definition of charity reminds me to do it, not for me, but for God. And the great thing about charity is we are given the strength and charity to do so. We don't necessarily create charity. It flows from God to us, for God is love. St. Padre Pio used to say, when asked how to become a saint: "will it." For the love of God, will it.

-  -  -

Simple definitions. Thank you to the professors and writers who keep teaching the truth to shaky students such as myself. You've done well.

In the end our faith, hope, and love will define our success.

5 Ways my Kids are making me Less Virtuous

I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist. But Becca is the eternal optimist. There she goes, writing about how her kids make her more virtuous. Well I don't know what kids she's talking about, but my kids certainly make me less virtuous. Here's how:


1. They make me more selfish.
It's not fair that Joseph gets all of the cool lego. I've worked all my life to reach the point where I can afford to buy lego, when I want, and what kind I want. But nooooo, his uncles and aunties keep giving him lego. Meanwhile I'm left to spend my hard earned cash on things like diapers.

And then there's just last week where Becca had a large gift certificate to spend at a local clothing shop. Joseph and John Paul got decked out in the fanciest underarmour-mexx-er-fox clothing you ever did see. Call me selfish, but it's not fair. Deep down inside I seethe at them.

More like:

2. They make me slovenly.

What's that saying? Cleanliness is next to Godliness?

Once upon I'd be ashamed to have a living room like this. Now? Meh. Really, it's not that bad. At least they're quiet.

And it's not just them. I leave stuff all over now too. Why I left Joseph's clothes all over the bathroom this morning before going off to work. I suppose I could've picked them up... never mind I had been up since 3:30am dealing with wet beds and crying kids. I suppose I should've picked up those pee-ridden jammies. But I didn't. Perhaps by my 8th cup of coffee I might've. Blame the kids.

My kids make me slovenly.


3. They pick up on my bad example.
Yesterday at lunch Joseph started talking about some other kid. That's all nice and good. Except he very nonchalantly was referring to the kid as the "brat." Becca then pointed out I had just been using that word (probably in reference to a student... not that I would actually ever call students brats...). So there you go. I give a bad example. The boys pick up on it. Double the sin for half the effort. What a bargain!


4. They make me ignore my wife.

"Boys, come for supper!"

"Boys, get ready for bed!"

"Boys, you better not be eating chips on the coach and watching TV! I said you had to clean up!"

Poor Becca. We get into a lot of trouble. We play to the point of not obeying her. It's not that we try, we're just too busy to notice her. But I suppose a married man is supposed to do better. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and hey are those chips! Jooooooseph! Come here!


5. They make me proud.
Pride is the root of all sin. Pride goeth before the fall. But, golly gee, I just can't help being proud of my kids!

5 Ways my Kids are making me More Virtuous

Is this God's big, funny plan when He blesses couples with kids? To make the parents more virtuous? After all, marriage has to be sanctifying somehow...

1. They make me less selfish.
Deep down, I know that it's true - I'm very selfish, self-centered. I want to do what I want when I want to. Nothing squashes your selfishness like having little kids around 24/7. They are needy. All the time. I must wipe butts, change diapers, get drinks, make food, put on socks... everything. Where I'd like to have an organized day and everything in my house just so, my kids will doubtless put a wrench in things. And that is so good for me! Because the more I die-to-self, the happier I am, the happier my kids are, and the happier lives we lead.

2. They make me accountable.
Having kids is almost like having a second conscience. Or maybe it's just that when you have kids your conscience is in hyper-mode. Ever feel like going and eating all the ice cream or all the chips when no one is looking? Yep! It's tempting to do things we shouldn't when we think no one is looking. But kids... they're watching all the time (except when they nap!!) and they're mighty loud about it. When I get carried away on the computer essentially wasting my time, my kids complaints remind me that that's not what I'm supposed to be doing. If I'm trying to sneak a goody right before supper, there's bound to be someone smelling the treat.

3. They make me give a good example. 
"Teach me how to be good," Joseph tells us. I'm supposed to be good, supposed to be treading the straight and narrow road to sanctity. But if that thought doesn't spur me on to virtue, knowing I'm supposed to be making little saints of my kids just might. And so I pray with them, take them to Mass, teach them kindness and manners, knowing that it's good for them. But knowing that I need it as much or more than they do. Somehow I got out of the habit of saying "please" at some point; having kids has made me watch my manners. Somehow I got into the habit of interrupting people; well, I'm working on it.

4. They bring me out of myself. 
Although I'm an extroverted type, I'm not always one to go introduce myself into a situation or offer a helping hand. Having kids on hand has made me do this. Partly because I need to set that example for them and partly because I'm more aware of people around me because of my kids. My three-year-old was the one who kept mentioning our neighbour's garbage can was still out on the road after garbage day; he was the one that saw the ambulance take the same neighbour to the hospital before Christmas; he was the one worried for the dog left behind and wondering where the neighbour went. Taking in the neighbour's garbage can and knocking on his door to check in on him was an exercise in charity for me and a hard one at that. But to see the smile, the thankfulness on the man's face that someone was thinking of him... My kids make me less cautious, more willing to go out of my way to help others.

5. They make me love more.
There is nothing like the wave of love that goes through you when you see your baby for the first time. The baby you've loved for 9 months already without meeting him or her. And to think that God's love for us is so much greater than this love we have for our children. Children teach us how to love: They stretch the bounds of our love as crying, waking infants; they see value and beauty in everyone from the old, frail man to the little child with disabilities; they see the needs of the neighbour that has Alzheimer's disease and the one with the leg infection. And they challenge me to love more. Not not just love them more, but love everyone around me more.