Thoughts on Christmastime...

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One of the things that I greatly enjoy about the lead-up to Christmas is the discussions that inevitably take place on the meaning and place of the Holiday.  The newspapers, blogs, and television always seem to have stories on the proper place of religion (and Christmas in particular) in a pluralist, secular democratic society.  Editorials and Op-Eds will explore the historicity of Christmas (the virgin birth, the star, angels, etc.), the commercialization of the holiday, and the "true meaning of Christmas".  Devout atheists will dogmatically decry the ubiquity of religion this time of year.  Staunch conservative evangelicals will lament and rail against the increasing loss of the "reason for the season" as well as their freedom to wish their neighbour a "Merry Christmas" without fear of social judgment.

Sure, there are the same old objections being raised my nominally informed individuals eager to educate the seemingly ignorant masses: Jesus wasn't born in December; many aspects of what we know of as Christmas have been appropriated from pagan celebrations, etc.  I have a little smile on the inside when I hear these objections being raises as if they were any sort of threat to the Christian celebration.

I enjoy that at this time of year people feel a little bit more able and free to discuss those topics which are grossly neglected for the other eleven months of the year.  I enjoy that people of all creeds and cultures are able to consider what it means to be filled with peace, hope, and love.  I enjoy that people feel it a socially acceptable thing to help out their neighbours this time of year, to give a stranger a friendly greeting, to carry a generous spirit.  Sure, there are malls packed with frantic shoppers, there are angry, frustrated drivers, and grumbling Scrooges... I guess it's a package deal.  I'll take it though.

Oh yes, and there is Peanuts:

Good show Linus, good show old chap.

Gloria Deo
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Thoughts on Christmas: Imagining the Incarnation...

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Last Sunday in Church we sang "'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime."  This song is the English version of the 'Huron Carol," which, interestingly enough, is Canada's oldest Christmas song.  I was listening to a lovely version by Bruce Cockburn and it got me to thinking about the ways in which we conceive of the events surrounding the Incarnation... the story of Christmas.

In the Huron Carol, it's author, Saint Jean de Brébeuf gave the Christmas story to the Huron people in imagery the could relate to.  One famous English translation reads:

'Twas in the moon of winter-time
When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wandering hunters heard the hymn:
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

Within a lodge of broken bark
The tender Babe was found,
A ragged robe of rabbit skin
Enwrapp'd His beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh,
The angel song rang loud and high...
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

O children of the forest free,
O sons of Manitou,
The Holy Child of earth and heaven
Is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant Boy
Who brings you beauty, peace and joy.
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

This version of the Christmas story places Jesus among the snowy winter forests of Canada with hunters coming to see the new-born king.  There in a "lodge of broken bark" the child is found wrapped in a "ragged robe of rabbit skin."

The historical Jesus was born of humble means in a little town in Palestine to Jewish parents but that hasn't stopped men and women throughout the centuries from bringing their collective imaginations to bear on the historical reality of the Incarnation... and I think this is a wonderful thing to do!

The gift of Christmas, i.e. the Incarnational redemption of all creation, is an inheritance shared by all humanity.  Every people group and every individual have claim to the joy and hope that was born that day so long ago in a little Jewish town.

It seems meet and right that the Incarnation, which was the union of the human and divine, the infinite and the finite, should also be the union of the universal with the particular.  Indeed, there will only ever be one historical reality through which the Son of God was born into this world, but the ways in which we imagine that birth will ever be myriad.

As for me, I'm a little bit partial to Gerard van Honthorst's "Adoration of the Shepherds".

Gloria Deo
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Life Lessons: Learning Love...

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"I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

 If there is one gift that I can pass along to my little son, I would give him the gift of life.  My wife and I, through the miracle of procreation, have already given him the gift of biological life.  But there is a fullness of life that goes infinitely beyond merely being biologically alive.

I was reading my wife's blog the other day and was struck by a photo which she had posted on it.  It is a photo of Isaac crawling down the long tunnel of a large cardboard box with me in the background cheering him on.  As I considered this picture, it became increasingly clear to me what it is that I am intuitively teaching my son: life.  Every day I teach him to smile, to laugh, to sing, and to dance (lots of singing and dancing).  Some days I teach him to roll and play, to wrestle, to climb, and to tickle.  I talk to him and I listen to him.  In all of this I am teaching him to grasp life in each little increment that comes his way.  I am teaching him, by example, how to live.  One day, I will walk with him through sorrow and loss.  I will share with him joy and celebration.  In all the various climes of life, I will teach him the resiliency and splendor of love.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear"

 My hope for Isaac is that he learns to live life without fear - that he learns to love.  Today this takes the form of exploring the house, of treating each little moment as an opportunity to learn and grow, to laugh and love.  I hope that he takes each moment as a gift, as an invitation to live abundantly.

Living life abundantly doesn't necessarily involve jumping out of airplanes or traveling to far-off exotic places - these are equally means by which one can run from life - no, it involves learning to love, weeping with those who weep, laughing with those who laugh, accepting each moment and each person as a gift from God and responding appropriately: in love.  This is what I hope to teach my son.

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God"

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Thoughts on Advent...

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Every year I have an internal struggle regarding the proper place of Advent in my life and in our society.  Perhaps this is just a part of a larger struggle that I have reconciling the relationship between the Church's understanding of time and the world's understanding.  For Christians, time is understood as a sacred part of God's created order.  And as such, the Church has - over the many centuries - developed a liturgical calendar which is intended to serve as a guide in the proper ordering of our worship and devotion.  There are times of the year to fast, to mourn, to celebrate, and to feast.  There are times/seasons set aside for the intentional contemplation of the Incarnation, for the Passion,  for the Resurrection... times of hope, times of longing, times of tears, times of joy (am I beginning to sound like a passage from the book of Ecclesiastes or perhaps a song by the Byrds... turn, turn, turn).  The struggle is one of reconciling the sacred nature of time and the ways in which we choose to spend the hours/days as Christians with the ways which our dominant culture tells us to spend our time.

Advent is a season of preparation for the coming saviour.  It is a time of focused contemplation and prayer; a time of looking forward to the dawn of hope, i.e. the arrival (Latin adventus or "coming") of God in the form of a newborn child.  It is intended to be a time in which we consider our lives and our world; we consider our needs, our pains, our sorrows; we consider our hopes and desires for love, for healing, for fulfillment; we consider our need for the coming Saviour, Love incarnate, who brings with him the embodiment of redemption, for each of us, but even more so, he brings the redemption of all of creation.  Advent is a time of anticipation, longing, and hope.

Yet, more often than not, it seems to be a time of frantic shopping, a time to be inundated with Christmas songs everywhere one goes, a time of celebration and feasting (or sometimes  wanton gluttony).  I heard one person describe the problem of reconciling Advent with the secular Christmas season something like this: So, we are going to throw a party for Jesus.  It's a birthday party for the Son of God.  But instead of waiting until his birthday, i.e. the day on which he will actually be here for it, we start partying a month or two early with the end effect being that by the time Jesus arrives for the party we are all tired and done celebrating.  He arrives just in time to see us pack up the festivities - the presents all open, the food already consumed.  Yeah, happy birthday indeed.

To me it often feels like we are opening our presents before Christmas.  It feels like we are spoiling the feast by constant and excessive snacking.

The answer seems quite straightforward: don't celebrate Christmas until Christmas.  But it is seldom quite as easy as that.  Our culture has structured this festive season such that everyone is used to having parties, and doing the various things of Christmas before the Christmas season even begins.  Suddenly I look like a scrooge for begrudging the radio stations, the television networks, the myriad of stores and public spaces, for getting this Christmas things going way too early.  Easter, in comparison, is a piece of cake.  I join with the Church in the practice of Lent.  I fast, I pray, I give up many of the normal things of life so that I can gain perspective on the suffering of our Christ, on his death and resurrection: so that I can truly celebrate the feast of the Resurrection when Easter Sunday comes.  But, Advent and Christmas... they are a much different story.

The Twelve Days of Christmas, contrary to popular opinion, are not the twelve days leading up to Christmas.  No, they are instead the days from Christmas day until January 5th (the day before Epiphany).  They are the twelve days which comprise the Christmas season: they are the party days.

Well, Advent begins today.  This year, as in previous years, I will seek to participate in the Advent season by fasting, by prayer, by contemplating my life and the world in which I live.  I shall look forward to the coming of our Lord for the redemption of the World.

What I will try not to do: I will try not to grumble and complain about the incessant assault upon my senses (and upon the Advent season) by the secular Christmas season.

Will I go to any Christmas parties? I don't know.

Will I have chocolates, candies, and decadent foods?  No.  I will wait until Christmastime.

Most of all, though, I will seek that face of God.  I will encourage my desire to know He, who is Love Incarnate, born so long ago into a most humble of circumstances, for the redemption of all creation.

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Sanctus Aurelius Augustinus Hipponensis

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...to praise you is the desire of man, a little piece of your creation. You stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you. (Confessions I.1)

August 28th is the feast day of St. Augustine of Hippo.  And I couldn't be more excited (with, of course, the exceptions of Christmas and the Easter Vigil).  It will be a quiet celebration in may ways.  No, the shops won't close down, gifts might not be exchanged, and large feasts shared with family and friends are not to be seen.  But, nonetheless, I shall likely spend the early hours reading some of the works of one of mankinds greatest minds, and one of Christianity's greatest saints. I shall likely say some prayers of gratitude for St. Augustine and for the survival of his writings down to our own time.

How will you celebrate this occasion?  I suggest that those of you out there in the blogosphere who have yet to read St. Augustine's Confessions go out and purchase a copy and begin reading it... you won't be disappointed.

Don't feel like reading?  Check out where you can see the new movie (unfortunately, it may not be easy).

If you don't know who St. Augustine is, watch the movie, read his Confessions, or buy me a coffee and I'll introduce you to him.  He does have a very exciting story.

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Thoughts on Ethnicity and Identity...

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I guess having a child can refocus certain questions that have previously lain dormant. One of those, at least for me, has been the question of heritage and identity.

I suppose that there once was a time when such a question would have been less common.  This would likely have been a time when the society in which one lived was more of less homogeneous (or at least it would have been pre-suppositionally perceived that way). But, even in those increasingly rare cases in our multi-cultural / heterogeneous society where both parents have a very simple ethnic lineage to trace back, the question of identity is not terribly simple.

In my case, as a father, I ask myself what ethnic identity, if any, am I going to pass on to my children?  My ethnic makeup is not easily sorted-out.  Even the ideal of an ethnic make-up seems problematic.  Historically, ethnic identity was understood within the rather misguided paradigm (in my opinion) of race.  The bloodline was the thing and it was measured in fractions.  For example, if a person had a German mother and a Chinese father, this person would be understood as being 1/2 German and 1/2 Chinese. And if this person had a child with a Russian person, the child would then be 1/4 German, 1/4 Chinese, and 1/2 Russian. Repeat this process a few more times and the fractions begin to get ridiculous.  But, isn't the mere idea that fractions can make up a person's ethnic identity rather ridiculous no matter what those fractions are?  What does it mean to be 1/4 German or 1/16 Aboriginal?  Numbers don't add up to identity.  And this, perhaps is my central issue with this way of approaching ethnicity: even if the number is 100%, that doesn't say anything about identity.  My dear wife is 100% Dutch... what does that mean.  Simply put, it means that both her parents were 100% Dutch.  But, the problem is that this really doesn't tell us anything about her ethnic identity.  You might be thinking, "No Tyler, this in fact does tell us a great deal... she's Dutch!"  Ah, but what does that mean?  What does it mean to be Dutch?  For ethnic identity has never been grounded in percentages (even 100%) - it has always been grounded in story... in history.  Lineage is important not because of the mere fact of that lineage, but rather because of the stories and history contained in that lineage.  And, as we know, all history is selective.

History is always selective.  It always gives preference to some things (people, places, events, etc.) over others.  All people groups derived from the confluence of several other people groups.  The Dutch, for example, are not a homogeneous group (no matter how much it may seem so to outsiders).  They derive from the intersection of disparate peoples (to varying degrees) who, for various historical reasons, found common cause and cultural identity.  As time passed, the attention to the differences increasingly gave way to focus on the growing similarities (as found in culturally symbolic events, practices, modes of thought, religion, and of course, language).  The idea of the Dutch people is a cultural construct.  Furthermore, the idea of Dutchness (i.e. what it means to be Dutch) can be subtly, and surprisingly diverse.  When one considers the emigration of Dutch people from their homeland to Canada, this issue becomes more clear.  What Dutch-Canadians might considers important aspects of their Dutchness, could be quite divergent from what Dutch persons living in the Netherlands consider important.  This, again, is because history is always an identity making process: we find our identity in our history and in turn construct our history in the image of our identity (a dialectical process).  The history of Dutch Canadian immigrants is much different than that of their relations who stayed behind in the home country.  Therefore, they construct different identities from their different histories.

Moving from the theoretical to the practical, I then return to my question of ethnic identity.  What is the ethnic identity that will be traditioned to my children.  What stories, what history will my wife and I pass on to our children?  My wife, no doubt, will pass on the Dutch Canadian identity as she has experienced it and understands it.  She will tell stories of her parents and her (predominantly) Dutch Canadian community in which she was raised.  She will tell stories of her Omas and Opas making the great journey to Canada and finding their place in this new land (stories of courage and fortitude).  This Dutch identity will find voice in the stories, but also in symbolic items (blue and white depictions of windmills and young Dutch maidens perhaps) and family customs.  I look forward to her sharing her Dutch Canadian roots with our children.

My situation is decidedly more complicated.  I'm one of those all-too-common compilations of fractions.  I've been struggling with this of late.  Where does ethnic identity come from for those whose story/heritage is more difficult to simplify.  I think this is what I've come up with (thus far):

If I went with the fractions, it would be easy.  But, as I've discussed above, humans do not find identity in the brute logic of mathematics.  So then, what is the story that I've been told?  Inevitably a story must favour some aspects over others - some lineages must be subsumed by others.  The two stories that have been passed on to me have been that of my Irish ancestors and that of my Native ancestors. Interestingly, though my Native lineage is the lesser according to the mathematics, it has been the overwhelmingly stronger story that has been shared.  This story has not been shared in narrative form.  It has been shared in the form of a deep respect for, and appreciation of, the Native people of our land and their rich cultural heritage.  I guess this is what I have to pass on to my offspring.  This is the story I have to share.  Strangely, it will likely continue to be a story told in the third person rather than the first person voice.  My Irish heritage is more difficult to reconcile.  Due to situations outside of my control, the Irish story has fallen by the wayside (I hesitate to use the word, lost, though).  In what way I am able to address this, well, I don't know.

In many ways, I understand that my situation is not that different from my wife's:  I will tell stories of my father and stories of my mother; I will tell stories of my Granny and her life; I will tell stories of my experiences growing up; I will tell stories that convey to my children who I am and where I come from.  The biggest difference is that the label which I attach to these stories will not be as easy to explain.

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Post Script: Perhaps I will post on another occasion about the other very important lineage in which I find my identity.

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A funny little interaction...

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Sitting in the campus library in the computer area looking up some books for class.

The girl on the computer next to me: "This is going to sound like a strange question but, can you show me how to friend somebody on Facebook?"

Me (laughing): "This is going to sound strange but, I've never been on Facebook."

Girl next to me: "REALLY?"

Me: "Yup. We certainly are an odd pair."

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Thoughts on Procreation...

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Recently, the question of why people have children has been on my mind.  Put more accurately, what are the reasons people have for desiring to have, or choosing to have, children.  People have children because they have sex: yes, sex leads to procreation (perhaps  in the future I will muse about this concept which is so foreign to many in our current society).  Okay, back to the topic at hand... what are the reasons why people choose to have children?

This question has had me thinking, what were my motivations for having our little guy?  I don't think that I had asked this question at the time; in fact, I'm pretty sure that I didn't.  I don't recall ever asking my dear wife what her motivations were either.  We both knew that we desired children.  It really just came down to the question of when was the "right" time.  Previously, that is, previous to meeting my wife, I hadn't any real desire for children.  Previous to my conversion to the Christian faith, I had no desire to get married, let alone have children.  But that all changed.

Oh, I knew theologically why we were to have children.  Love, true love, is procreative.  This is a core truth within the Christian Gospel.  It is, as John Paul II wrote, the Evangelium Vitae (gospel of life). I knew that love is dynamic and alive, that it grows. I knew that Christian marriage is directed towards the dual purposes of unity and procreation.  I knew that both marriage and family are intended as a means for sanctification (growth in holiness).  All this I knew.  But, looking back, I don't think I really put much thought into what my personal reasons (if I can speak in such terms) for desiring and pursuing children were.

Upon reflection, I think I would have answered then as I do now: I love my wife.  My love for her included a desire to join with her in the act of creation.  I desired to see our love come to fruition in new life.  I longed to see her as the mother of my children.  Indeed, I looked forward with eager anticipation to seeing the deep inner beauty of my wife passed on to our offspring.

Procreation, when I take the time to consider it, has to be one of the greatest gifts that we humans have been granted by our loving Creator.  It has to be one of the greatest honours bestowed upon us.  Think about it for a moment: God has invited us to participate in the act of creation.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. (Genesis 1.1)

In this simple phrase found at the very outset of God's written revelation we learn the nature of divinity.  The Church's teaching is that God is a creator, one who created the universe our of nothing (ex nihilo).  What is truly incredible about procreation is that we have been invited to participate in such an act.  The very power through which the entire universe was wrought at the inception of time is brought to bear with each new child growing in the womb. And we are invited to share in this new creation. There was a time (a little over 15 months ago) when there was no Isaac, and suddenly, through an act of conjugal love, there sprung into being a new life, a new person.  Yes, truly incredible.

I desired children because of love.

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Post Script: People have been having children for a multitude of reasons, some of them rather vapid and senseless (at least in my estimation), some of them more considered and reasonable (whatever that means).  Ultimately, people have children because they have sex.  Whatever their reasons may be, everything changes in the eyes of their newborn child.  Reasons for having children and reasons for loving and raising children can greatly vary. I think that the question of why disappears, or at least fades into the background, upon their arrival. In the eyes of a helpless, and completely vulnerable child, new reasons suddenly spring forth .

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Thoughts on the Holy Trinity...

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"Then Yahweh appeared to him by the terebinth trees of Mamre, as he was sitting in the tent door in the heat of the day.  So he lifted his eyes and looked, and behold, three men were standing by him; and when he saw them, he ran from the tent door to meet them, and bowed himself to the ground, and said, My lord, if I have now found favour in your sight, do not pass on by your servant." (Genesis 18)

Christians do not depict the first person of the Holy Trinity - God the Father.  We rightly depict the Son.  We also give artistic representation of the Spirit (generally, but not exclusively, as a dove).  God the Father is not represented since the only image we have of Him is Jesus his only begotten son.  It is an incredible thing that the Church does indeed have one icon which does indeed depict the three persons of the Holy Trinity.  Well, not exactly.  This icon is actually a depiction of Abraham's visitors at Mamre described in Genesis 18.  I find this a very interesting and telling fact.

The Church's only accepted icon of the Trinity has at it's core the theme of hospitality.  Hospitality, at least in its truest form, is the welcoming of strangers to be served as if they were Christ himself.  Thus, any understanding of the mysterious Holy Trinity, of Divinity, must include hospitality.  That is to say, that the nature of Divinity, if I may speak in such terms, involves a welcoming disposition.  Is this not the Christian understanding of love?  The love that we find in the three persons of the Godhead does not exclude.  The Father loves the Son and loves the Spirit, the Son loves the Father and loves the Spirit, and the Spirit loves the Father and loves the Son.  This community of mutual love, though, is not inwardly focused.  It is the nature of their love to look outwards and share that love-overflowing with strangers and welcome them into the community.  God is hospitable.

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Some (more) Thoughts on Love...

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I've written on love and sight before.  Apparently I talk about love a lot.  As my wife is fond of saying, "Of course, love... You're all about love."  I think love is due for a comeback.  You might be thinking, "but Tyler, love never went out of style."  Yeah, but I'm not talking about the appearance of love, but rather (if I can borrow a Marxist distinction) the essence of love.  True love.  Love of the kind which St. John talks about in his first epistle.

Anyway, I have been reading G.K.Chesterton's Orthodoxy (a great read by the way), and I came across this little bit of beautiful wisdom:

"Love is not blind; that is the last thing that it is.  Love is bound; and the more it is bound the less it is blind."

My marital experience thus far tells me this is true.  I am bound in love to my dear wife.  But, I am certainly not blind to who she is.  In fact, as Chesterton points out, it was through the binding (i.e. entering into the faithful, lifelong sacrament of marriage) that I was able to remove the previous blindness which obscured her to me.   And now, having bound myself to her, my love - or better yet, our love - has brought clarity of vision to our relationship, and continues to.  It is, in fact, this binding which enables love to truly become love, rather than mere infatuation.  Don't mistake what I'm saying here, there is nothing wrong with infatuation but unless it is bound, it can never truly blossom into real love... unless it is bound, it will be forever blind.

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Thoughts on Prayer...

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It seems that, as my life transitions from one season to the next, I must rediscover prayer.  I've experienced so many seasons since I first met the One who is love incarnate.

When I was a little lad, my father used to tuck me and my siblings into bed each night.  He would say good night and we would say our prayers.  They were mostly rote prayers that we had memorized (e.g. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...", "Our Father who art in heaven..", etc.).

Following a religious conversion experience over a decade ago I relearned how to pray.  I took off to an evangelical bibleschool in Germany and learned about praying with others and spontaneous, unscripted prayer.

In the years that followed I learned to pray in silence, to pray with my eyes and with my ears.  I learned to pray with the church throughout the ages.  I learned to pray the prayers of other as if they were mine - I learned to make them mine.  I learned to follow the guidance of the saints and martyrs of the church as I sought communion with God.  I learned the comfort of joining the great cloud of witnesses who came before me in a prayer unceasing.

Recently, my little sacred space for prayer that I had set up in my study was removed to make room for my newborn son.  I have found myself forced to rediscover - not in a major way, but in a logistical way, which is surprisingly challenging.  I had a place reserved for kneeling and for quietude.  It was a place where I could gaze upon the face of Jesus and simply be.  It was a place where I could ask for guidance, a place where I could bare my hopes and fears.  It was a sacred space that I could easily enter into.  It was very important to me and it's gone.

These shifts (both small and large) that take place during the various seasons of life often do indeed provide cause for relearning or rediscovering prayer.  I thank my God for them, for the chances to grow and face such challenges.  Christians are called to seek the divine face, to travel the road leading to greater and deepened communion with Him.  These changes, these challenges are opportunities to travel that road.  A road traveled by the heart rather than the feet.  We do not draw near, after all, by movement in place to the one who is present everywhere, but instead by a movement of the heart and of the will - this movement is only accomplished through prayer.

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Thoughts on Parenting: Deo Gratias...

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"And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say - that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.  And then - the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of *ten* Grinches, plus two! "

Last night, after we had put little Isaac to bed, my wife and I were having some relaxed adult time - watching ER and sipping on tea.  When all of a sudden, the little guy started to cry out great cries of fear and distress.  So I jumped up and headed into the dark of his room.  Though not being able to see him, I found him and gently lifted him up to my chest and reassured him, "oh, everything's okay... papa's here."  As I held his little body next to mine and his cries turned to soft whimpers, my heart almost exploded with love.

I've often been quoted as referring to love as "procreative": love grows; love spreads; love begets love.  I feel a lot like the Grinch.  I feel that fathering Isaac has caused my heart to grow.  Whereas the Grinch learned the true meaning of Christmas that day, I'm learning the true meaning of love.  Little Isaac, with his gifts of vulnerability and need, is teaching me.  Well, maybe it's more accurate to say that the Lord is teaching me through my care of, and relationship with, Isaac.  Nonetheless, I believe that my capacity for love - both in giving and receiving - is indeed growing.  When I met my wife and our relationship grew, I knew that I was in for a lifelong encounter with love.  I knew that my life was heading in a direction of the Divine, that love was to be the lesson I was to learn.  Isaac's arrival into our life has only confirmed that belief.  His arrival is a part of this journey of sanctification that we are on together.

Indeed, what a beautiful responsibility it is to be the parents of this guy - to be the ones who can provide comfort, reassurance, love, care, and tired arms to hold him when he is fussy or fearful.

My short experience thus far in parenting has also further confirmed one other truth: love and fidelity are inseparable.  To the extent that I have an unwavering fidelity to another - be it my lovely wife, or my little child - I am also able to grow in love with and for that person.  And the more that divine gift of love grows, the more unwavering my fidelity becomes.  I remember holding our fussy little newborn at all hours through the day and night.  Often as I held him and comforted him I would sing quietly a line from a song that I had heard on the radio: "I won't turn and walk away / you can count on me, you can count on me."  There is a beauty in that promise, a promise that I made to my wife on our wedding day, a promise that was made to our son on the day of his birth.

Isaac is sleeping now.  He is a picture of beauty, asleep in his crib.  I look at him with awe and wonder.  What a marvelous creation he is.  What a marvelous gift.

Words fail me when I look at him, when I hold him.  All I can say is: Deo Gratias (Thanks be to God)!

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Thoughts on What the Future Might Hold...

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It is a sad day for Canadians: Prime Minister Harper and his Conservatives Party's Omnibus Crime Bill C-10 (An Act to enact the Justice for Victims of Terrorism Act and to amend the State Immunity Act, the Criminal Code, the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act, the Corrections and Conditional Release Act, the Youth Criminal Justice Act, the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act and other Acts) is law.  It was passed by Parliament yesterday and given Royal Assent this afternoon.

I wonder what kind of Canada my son will grow up in.  I watch what has been taking place in Canadian politics and I worry.  How long will it take for the generations to come to undo the damage that the current government seems intent to wreak upon our country?  They seem determined to destroy the environment, to increase economic disparity, and to promote crime and incarceration.  I worry about what kind of country my son will inherit.

I'm not normally in the habit of praying for our nation (though it's a good practice).  I'm beginning to think that I ought to be.

Ruler supreme, who hearest humble prayer,

Hold our Dominion in thy loving care;

Help us to find, O God, in thee

A lasting, rich reward,

As waiting for the better Day,

We ever stand on guard.

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Thoughts on Fatherhood: Pleasantly Suprised

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I have long looked forward to fatherhood.  I imagined myself spending time with my son or daughter, teaching him/her about life, love, and the mystery of God.  I imagined myself answering questions about the world we live in.  I imagined myself taking him/her out to explore the wonders of creation on little journeys of discovery.  I knew that to get to that point I would have to have a newborn child.  I knew that there would be nights of crying, piles of dirty diapers, and all the like.  What I never expected is that I would so love having a newborn.  I never expected to appreciate the opportunity to hold and console an over-tired little boy.  I never expected to jump at the opportunity to change a diaper or give a bath.  I never imagined that I would wish for nothing more in my afternoon than to sit with my son and trade faces and sounds with him.  I never imagined that a little child with nothing to offer but need would have so much to share with me, would elicit so much love. 

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Thoughts on the Paths we Choose (and those we do not choose)...

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I was sitting in class this morning and one of my classmates showed me a picture of his girlfriend.  She is currently working on her Ph.D. somewhere back East right now.  It turns out that she graduated with her Bachelor's degree from the same University as me, the same year as me.

I was suddenly struck with emotion.  Here I was sitting in a first year Sociology class at a community college (technically an University, but really...) and this woman who had graduated the same time as me was working on finishing up her Ph.D.  I had been planning on taking that path before changing plans completely.  I think what I felt was a sense of loss.

I was a little bit conflicted.  I felt a sense of loss for what could have been... but I love where I am and wouldn't trade it for the world.

After a moment, I let it pass.  I would gladly take the wonderful reality that I have right now (with dirty diapers, loss of sleep, and all the rest) over a thousand potentials that might have been.  Nonetheless, we often struggle to come to terms with our past expectations when compared with the path we have chosen and where we currently find ourselves.  If only for a moment, I inwardly lamented the 'loss'.  Just for a moment... then I thought, "screw it! I'm heading home to my beautiful wife and son".  Indeed, I have suffered no loss, only wonderful, unexpected gain.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Gratias Deo

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Eucharistic Reflections: Thoughts on this Christian Walk...

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It is one of my favourite times of the week.  I sit there and watch them make their way up to the front.  I see a son kneel down beside his mother; I see an elderly couple slowly make their way up together; couples, families, widows and widowers all walking up to the altar.  I see the tangible sign of our grace and redemption being received with open arms and grateful hearts.  Today as I watched an elderly woman with a cane being helped up to the communion rail it struck me that this is a clear reminder of how the Christian lives.  Sure, there those who will advocate for an individual faith, one centered on the autonomous choice of each person, but this is not how we live.  I carried my little newborn son up to the altar to receive a blessing from the priest.  Not long from now he will be baptized, welcomed into the community faith and joining in the journey with a whole host of witnesses who have walked the path before him.  We can pretend that we walk through this life by our own strength, that we make choices based apart from those around us, but this is not the faith tradition that I am a part of.  Isaac, my son, is carried to the altar to receive grace; when he is old enough, he will walk beside me; one day, God willing, he might hold his arm out to assist his elderly father as I struggle with cane in hand to the altar.  For now, my dear wife and I will carry him as we go to share in the Eucharist.  This is an honour beyond description.

I consider it such a blessing to share in the central Christian celebration with those in my church.  I am thankful for the grace we receive in the Wine and the Bread.  I am humbled by the reminder I receive every week that I do not walk through this life alone: to be a Christian is to be a part of a glorious community of those who have come before, those who have walked beside others, been carried by others, and carried others on this great journey.

For all those saints who have come before, for all those future saints who walk beside me... I give thanks to God.

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Leonard Cohen: Show me the place...

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I recently heard this song from Leonard Cohen's new album on CBC Radio 2 (if you're wondering who he is, think "Hallelujah" from the Olympic opening ceremonies... that's his song).  Close your eyes and sit down for a listen.

[I really don't have anything to say about it - I just wanted to share this wonderful song]
Gloria Deo

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Quote of the Day

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"So, meat hipsters, drop that smug sanctimony. Sometime soon, bacon-spiked dessert will look just as outmoded as lentil loaf and baby-doll dresses — and vegetarianism will still be a good choice for my health, society at large, and our global environment."

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Thoughts on my father and my son...

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John Elliott Curll

1943 - 1994

That's my father in the top middle (and that handsome little guy on the bottom left was me)

Today (Jan 25) is my father's birthday.  He passed away several years ago, but he would have been 69 years old today if he was still around.  I can't imagine my father being that old.  Most of my memories of him are when we my family was still intact - I was young, he was big and strong.  I have many memories of him working out in the yard.  He built fences, made gardens, constructed a giant swing set, worked on the cars or on the house.  In my memories he was big, strong, and usually very tanned (I have no memories of him with his shirt on in the summer time).  No, I can't imagine what a 69 year old Elliott would look like.

My son, Isaac Elliott Curll, is named after him.  

As I sit here late at night with Isaac sleeping against my chest (he is fussy and seems at times to only sleep if strapped to my chest) I can only imagine how proud my father would be to meet his grandson.  I know that my father would be proud to see where I am and who I am.  But it brings tears to my eyes to think about my father holding my son.  I trust that one day they will meet many years from now when they are both in the arms of our Lord - yeah, that's a bit comforting.  Still...

My father was thirty-five when he had me.  It struck me today that he was only a two years older when he had me than I am now with my newborn son.  If the pattern holds, I'll be in my late sixties before I might be a grandfather and hold a little grandchild.  I pray that God will grant me such a blessing.

My father will not hold little Isaac Elliott.  But I will take great joy in ensuring that Isaac grows up knowing where his middle name came from.

Father - I pray that you are resting in peace.  I look forward to seeing you again one day.

Gloria Deo

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Thoughts on That Which is Important: Night time readings with Isaac...

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Last night I was spending some time with my newborn son (my little fussy froggy).  My dear wife had just fed him and was getting a few hours of much-needed sleep while I held him so he could also sleep.  The lights were low and I was tired.  Not too tired to function by any means, but rather too tired to do school reading.  I read the news; I paced around; eventually I decided (after staring at my library for quite some time) to do some light pleasure reading.  My eyes fell on a book I've been meaning to get into for a while now, The Essential Pope Benedict XVI: His Central Writings and Speeches.  Probably not what most of my friends and family would choose to read after the sun has set but I thought to myself, there's no better time than now.  So with my little fussy froggy asleep against my chest, I picked it up.  Here's what I found:

"I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain."

John 15:16

"We have received the faith to give it to others.  We are priests meant to serve others.  And we must bring a fruit that will remain.  All people want to leave a mark which lasts.  But what remains?  Money does not.  Buildings do not, nor books.  After a certain amount of time, whether long or short, all these things disappear.  The only thing which remains forever is the human soul, the human person created by God for eternity.  The fruit which remains then is that which we have sowed in human souls: love, knowledge, a gesture capable of touching the heart, words which open the soul to joy in the Lord.  let us then go to the Lord and pray to Him, so that He may help us bear fruit which remains."

I was struck by how profound this little admonition is.  It is so simple and true.  With the arrival of my son, these words could not ring more true to my ears.  What can I do which will remain?  I can share love and knowledge of the Divine with Isaac.  I can work to sow seeds in his soul which will grow and blossom into glorious fruit.  I can live a life which models the great faith which I have received.  I can pray that our gracious God will so transform our life that we daily give the give of love to all we meet.

My little fussy froggy is even now making little froggy sounds as he sleeps against my chest.  I do indeed pray that I, by the grace of God, might bear such fruit that he will receive the faith, that he will experience the divine love which this faith brings.

Deo gratias

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Thoughts on Purpose and Clarity...

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Living life is a continuous act of great faith.  I've heard our lives described as small islands of certainty amidst an endless ocean of uncertainty; I think this an appropriate description of human existence.  I know the Evangelical Christians like to talk in terms of "the will of God" as if this is something that will always be evident through prayer, but my experience tends more towards letting the transformative love of God guide my reason and judgment in decision making.  It seems to me that the will of God, the narrative that explains events in our lives, is often only understood in retrospect - years later looking back and interpreting with the knowledge and growth gained through such experiences.  Rather than understanding as walking with certainty, more often than not we take brave and trembling steps of faith, trusting in God's grace and sovereign guidance, making our choices and doing our best.  Indeed, there are very few things we can be certain of in this life.

There are moments, though, moments of clarity, moments of certainty.  I remember a moment ten years ago (31 Dec 2001) in Rottenman, Austria.  It was Silvester (New Year's Eve) and we were watching the fireworks exploding in the sky over the little Austrian town.  Looking out into the colourful night sky, I knew that I was on the right path.  My life had changed drastically over the prior six or so months following a religious conversion experience.  There was no doubt in my mind that I was made to follow Jesus and live the life to which He was calling me.  This life of love which he now demanded of me was what I had been created for.

I remember another such moment of clarity.  Almost three and a half years ago, standing at the altar with my new bride, exchanging vows of love fidelity, I had no doubts as to my (our) direction.  Looking into her beautiful eyes I knew I was made for this.  I was created by love for love.  This wife whom God had given to me was given for my sanctification, a gift of divine love and grace, provided that I might grow into who I was intended to be.  Indeed, when I looked into her loving eyes that day, I had an unwavering clarity of purpose.

Just over 56 hours ago, I found myself experiencing this same clarity of purpose.  When I looked into my newborn sons eyes, when I picked little Isaac up and held him in my arms...  there were no doubts or questions, there was only this sense of clarity.  I knew in the very core of my being that I was created for this.  This precious little gift, this child has been entrusted into our care.  I am his father; he is my son.  I was created to love him.  And thus I shall do.

Indeed, there is very little that I can be certain of in this life.  There will be questions and doubts; there will be struggles.  I don't know what the future will hold.  In this vast sea of uncertainty, I shall let these few certainties be my guide.  I know why I am here.  I am here to love, and this I shall do.

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