Panis et circenses...

… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses. (Juvenal)

Juvenal wrote these words some nineteen centuries ago. He was addressing the social changes that he perceived as a decline in the Roman culture of his age. To his thinking, interest in the welfare of the state had been exchanged for the more base endeavours. The thinking of the political powers of his day was that if they could provide sufficient food and entertainment the people would be indifferent to who was in power and what they were doing.

Sometimes I wonder if much has changed. It seems to me that dominant needs of our society revolve around our stomachs and our eyes. Instead of the circus with its chariot races and gladiatorial battles we have our movie theatres and sporting events (UFC?). We have our flat-screen televisions, and our laptop computers, our blackberries, iPhones and iPods. I'm not suggesting that any of these things are intrinsically wrong, but I do think we have reason to pause when our biggest concern becomes where we are going out for dinner or when the latest Apple gadget is coming out (iPad anyone?).

I'm not going to turn this into one of those angry posts where the author rages against the evil state of his/her society. I'm not going to do this mainly due to the fact that I don't think that our age or society is particularly evil (and if I did, I would have better reasons to justify this conclusion). Yes, we live in an age of entertainment and amusement; this frustrates me. Partly, it frustrates me because I feel the pull. I feel the pull of the temporal, the vain, the empty; all of this is a pull away from the important things in life, those which are substantive and eternal. I know that my central desire in life is to learn, grow, live, and love. I know that these things, though not intrinsically destructive (not normally), draw me away from that desire.

I think this could easily turn into one of those 'angry posts', and I could easily turn into one of those people who is angry at what I see in our society, if it weren't for the high esteem that I have for humanity. Although we are easily distracted, misled, or worse, I know that we also have unfathomable potential for good and constructive endeavours, for great learning and loving. I know that God is unceasingly at work among his creation and his people. Because I have hope, I am not angry or bitter.

Still.. bread and games do distract us from what is important. Perhaps that will never change.

Rambling Thoughts on Love and Reality...

I've had this reoccurring thought of late. Well, maybe 'thought' is not as accurate a description as experience. Perhaps, we'll call it a ontological realization?

It has struck me of late that the full extent of the Christian claim seems to be often overlooked. Though the gospel message usually takes the familiar evangelistic form of 'personal salvation', the revelation of Christ, which His Church proclaims, is so much more expansive: it encompasses the entirety of time and space, of all that was, is, and will be. The Christian proclamation is that divinity came to earth and ushered in the redemption of all of creation. Everything that God created at the beginning of time is being called back to its original purpose, its original end goal, its original essence. It is being called back to reflect the maker and ruler of the universe. It is being called back to love.

This was the realization that has been shadowing me for these past days/weeks: love truly is the source of all being. The essence of the universe, of all reality, is love.

Often, misguided Christians present a universe comprised of good and evil as if evil is something on par with good. This could not be further from the truth. Evil is the descent away from the real, the descent into non-being. Thus, something is only real insofar as it accurately reflects the goodness and love that is the source, the essence, of all reality.

Some might say that I'm looking through the world with rose-coloured glasses. Perhaps they are looking at the world through the blinders of jaded-skepticism. "I'm not jaded, I'm just a realist"... really? Who is more the realist, the one who loves, or the one who scoffs? I say that it is only the one with a heart open to love who is able to see things for what they are. The scoffer, the mocker, the jaded skeptic, they will only blind themselves to the fullness of the world around them; they will only allow themselves to see what little filters through their dark lenses. I refuse to bear the burden of those lenses.

I am fond of asserting, amor est vitae essentia (love is the essence of life). My dear wife chides me sometimes about this and jokingly groans when I begin to give answer to a question, exclaiming, "let me guess, love... it's always about love for you". Yes, yes it is.

This is who I am - this is where I am...

It's been said that change is the only constant in life. Though I'm not sure that it is the only constant, the sentiment of the statement still holds. Life involves change - there's no escaping that fact.

The change of which I am speaking here, is a change in me. On a certain level I can recognize that life inescapably involves growth and growth inescapably involves change. Perhaps some changes are harder to accept than others. This is the situation in which I find myself. I thought that I had accepted the growth in my life, i.e. the changes, that have taken place over the last several years, but recently I have begun to question this. Increasingly I have become cognizant of the fact that I 'hide' certain things in my dealings with others. It is not so much a deception rather than a lack of sharing - as if I am holding back a piece of me in some conversations. As this continues I begin to wonder if I am ashamed of who I have become or where my life has brought me. Am I concerned about what others might think? Yes, I think I have been. Are these unreasonable thoughts? No, I don't think they are; when matters of faith are involved, discussions within the faith community (communities?) can require certain restraint or tact. But, the more I think about it, I must be open and honest. Okay, here goes...

... I'm Catholic. No, I'm not in communion with the see of Rome (more like the see of Canterbury); I'm not Roman Catholic, not officially. I know that to many who know me this will not come as a surprise (especially those who go to church with me). Some might wonder why this is such a difficult thing for me to open up about. I have wondered this myself.

It's not the people who have a short history with me whom I fear telling; it's those with whom I spent my early years as a Christian. I think this is where the issue of change comes in. Those who know me as an Anglo-Catholic (that is how I currently understand myself) likely take for granted my Catholic (read: Roman Catholic) leanings. Conversely, those who knew me as a passionate (non-denominational) evangelical, will likely shudder at some of my beliefs and practices. They will likely not understand my use of icons in prayer, the role of Mary in my life, or my trust in the Papacy (together the the Magisterium) as a faithful guide in the areas of Christian doctrine and ethics. I think the unknown reaction frightens me. I have a tendency to seek out approval and sometimes being oneself means risking disapproval. This is difficult for me.

I remember the fear that I felt in discussing this topic with some friends of mine from my days in bible school. It wasn't easy. Particularly I remember a talk that I had with a good friend of mine on a two hour drive to visit a mutual friend for the weekend. I told him about some of my thoughts about Catholicism and how I had begun to explore it. It was a very encouraging talk. I left the conversation feeling accepted, even if not understood. Nonetheless, I had imagined that not all those I know would be as accepting. I suppose that is the risk of growing - thing change. Not everyone will view certain changes as being for the better.

As for myself, I know that I am where I ought to be. I know that the path that I'm on is one which is faithful to the Christian calling.

I think that the change that I'm struggling with is not the changes that have taken place over the past several years with my journey of faith. The changes that I fear are those which may take place in other people's perception of me. Those are changes which are outside of my control. I know that I have to let go of those things which are outside of my control; but it's not always easy to do so.

Many years ago when I became a Christian, I never could have imagined that this is where I would one day find myself. Now that I'm here, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I marvel at the mystery of life and at the grace that I have received which has guided me here. It is this divine grace that I look to as I face the future; a future holding unknown changes and growth.

All I can do in response to these changes is join with Saint Paul in declaring, "Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever."

Amen.

Thoughts on Epiphany: Who do you say that I am?

Epiphany is one of the major seasons in the church's liturgical calendar. It is a time of reflection on the revelation of Jesus. Following our celebration of the advent of Jesus, born to Mary on the first Christmas so long ago in Bethlehem, we take time to reflect on who this person is that we call Christ/Messiah.

Some Christians might suggest that it is already quite clear who Jesus is. Yes, the confession of Jesus as Lord and Saviour of humanity is central to the Christian faith; this is clear. But the question of Epiphany seeks to go deeper than mere propositional statements, however true they might be. Epiphany is a time to contemplate the revelation of God in Christ, a God shrouded in mystery, a God brought near and revealed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

In the Gospel accounts we find this very question being asked wherever Jesus goes. St. Luke tells us of how Jesus rebukes the wind and the waves and calms the sea. Upon seeing this, those with him exclaim: "Who then is this, that He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey Him?". Rumours abounded during Jesus' time regarding the answer to this very question. Some thought him to be John the Baptist returned from the dead, or Elijah, or another prophet of old. When Jesus asks his disciples pointedly, "who do you say that I am?", Matthew tells us that St. Peter responded thus: "You are the Christ, the son of the living God!". Truly this has been the Church's confession ever since. But it is interesting to see how for hundreds of years following his death and resurrection, the Church struggled to understand how this Jesus of Nazareth, whom she worshiped as God, could be both a man and God. Four centuries and four ecumenical (i.e. world-wide) councils later, she had finally come to understand how this could be so.

During the season of Epiphany (or Theophany for our Eastern brothers and sisters) we take on this challenge, we seek to answer the question of Jesus: 'who do you say that I am?'. This need not be the theological journey that the Church took in those early years. Instead, we travel the journey of the heart as it seeks the face of this God-man, as it seeks to understand and experience this Saviour. We travel this journey on our knees in prayer; we travel this journey on our feet as we go about our daily tasks; we travel this journey together as a people of faith worshiping the crucified Lord. Through the revelation of Jesus found in the proclamation of Scripture, in the reciting of creeds and confessions, and in the life of the Church meeting with Christ himself at the Eucharist feast, we learn anew each year who he is.

During this season we hear the voice of Jesus of Nazareth asking each of us, "who do you say that I am?".

Thoughts on Fatherhood: thinking ahead...

I don't have any children. One day, Lord willing, my wife and I will have little ones of our own. And though these children of ours are still to come, it seems to me that they have already begun to exert an influence over my thoughts and actions.

I think of my father and our time together so long ago. I think of what he was like and the legacy he has left me with long after his passing. I remember the words he spoke and the works he undertook. I remember his faults and his failings. I know that he loved me very much.

In many ways he was a very good father. He loved his children and sought to teach us what he felt we needed to know for life. I remember the many afternoons when he would subject me to 'helping' him work on the car or dig in the garden. He built the fence in the front yard and planted the hedge in front of our house. He fixed pipes, built a swing set, sifted the entire backyard to remove the rocks for a huge garden. He built a brick walkway around the house into the backyard. As he went about these tasks he took his children along to watch, to participate, and to learn. He told us stories about his past, about his memories as a child, about many things. He explained to us the importance of family and of standing beside each other. He read to us and prayed with us when he tucked us into bed each night. He worked hard to be a father and to raise his children.

As the thought of me being a father slowly inches closer to being reality, I find my thoughts often drift back to those days with my father, being dragged from task to task and story to story, learning how to be a man from his example and words. I find myself wondering what kind of father I will be for our children. I have no doubts that my dear wife will make an excellent mother when the time comes: she comes from great stock and from everything I can deduce had a great example in her mother. I watch her and know that she will also be a great example to our children of how to be a woman: she is hard working, caring, embraces life and knows how to love. What kind of father will I be? It has recently occurred to me that for me to be the kind of father I wish to be when we have children, I need to take seriously the kind of man I am right now. I need to make the positive changes in my life that I've been neglecting to make for so long. I need to be the example of what a man ought to be, not only when my children are watching, but also when they are not yet watching me - like now.

I know that I will not be a 'perfect' father (whatever that is supposed to mean). I'm not terribly worried about achieving any such thing. I know my father before me wasn't perfect. He had his shortcomings, his faults and failings. I know this and don't try to gloss over them as I consider his example of fatherhood. But I also know that he loved me and desired that I grow to be a man, a good man. He sought as best he could to teach me the important things of life. This will be my goal as a father. If my children grow to know that I loved them and learn to be men and women in the best sense of the terms, then I will have succeeded in my task of fatherhood.

For now my task is to be a man in the best sense of the term. Then, when our children arrive, I will be ready to be a father in the best sense of the term.

I wonder what they will be like?


N.B. One clarification for the sake of my dear wife: we are neither expecting nor planning anytime soon - do not inundate her with questions of impending pregnancy... ;)

Patristic Thoughts: On the infinite beauty of God..

Gregory of Nyssa (4th cent. theologian), in his commentary on The Song of Songs, presents to us the image of God as a spring bubbling out of the earth:

"As you came near the spring you would marvel, seeing that the water was endless, as it constantly gushed up and poured forth. Yet you could never say that you had seen all the water. How could you see what was still hidden in the bosom of the earth? Hence no matter how long you might stay at the spring you would always be beginning to see the water. For the water never stops flowing, and it is always beginning to bubble up again. It is the same with one who fixes his gaze on the infinite beauty of God. It is constantly being discovered anew, and it is always seen as something new and strange in comparison with what the mind has already understood. And as God continues to reveal himself, man continues to wonder; and he never exhausts his desire to see more, since what he is waiting for is always more magnificent, more divine, than all that he has already seen."

The thing about Mondays...

I guarantee, Monday will come; it always does.

I've heard many people lament how the weekend was good, but 'too short'. Alas, Monday arrives and the fun is apparently over. Don't get me wrong, I love Sundays. I'm not so much a weekend kind of fellow; but Sundays... they're my favourite. The best hour of my week is at church on Sunday morning. The next best hours are all those in between church and bedtime Sunday night. So, yes, I can relate to enjoying the weekend. But inevitably Monday always comes.

It seems to me that there are many people for whom the weekend is the goal of life. For this kind of person the work week is what you trudge through in order to enjoy the weekend. The weekend is where life happens. It's not just weekends though, there are also holidays and vacation time; but the principle seems to stand.

If you can't take some pleasure or satisfaction in the 'Mondays' of life (i.e. those days of work or study - daily life) what use is the weekend? The thing about weekends is that they always end; the thing about Mondays is that they always follow the weekend. We must find a way to find satisfaction or fulfillment of some kind in our everyday tasks. We must learn to value our 'Mondays' of life.