Firefighting and Evangelization

(This post is a re-run, posted nearly a year ago but as I'm in a dry spell, I'm running it again now. Besides: I need the reminder it provides. Realize that when I write, I am not writing to YOU, but to ME because I need a lecture far more than YOU probably do! This post was a lecture I needed to hear but no one else was out there to give me. And yes, if the over-use of the word "I" indicates anything, well...yes..you are reading a personal blog. Welcome to my narcissism. Just the same, I hope my navel-gazing is of benefit to someone else because it doesn't work much for me) 

I always become a little more reflective when I approach my next birthday, and given the movie I watched a few days ago, (Smokejumpers) I've been thinking a lot about the stuff I did in my 20's, the aspirations I had, and, well, the actual results of my efforts.

Although in many ways I often look back on those efforts and judge them as "failures", when I see them in light of the Cross, I can see something more, something that isn't about me, but tells a story that simply turns my experiences into a living parable.

To be honest, it is only in viewing my past through this lens that both gives me clarity and helps me come to terms with what happened, ensuring that I cannot possibly ever view my life as a "waste of God's time."

EVERYTHING is a part of God's time, and part of His timing. In cooperation with Him, I can look back and find the lessons He intended for me to learn, and hopefully, to pass on to others. What follows is only one of those lessons.

**       **       **

Back in my employment with the big city, during the Tower portion of Firefighter training our days consisted of roll call, review of the SOP's (Standard Operating Procedures), practice of certain foundational skills, and the training evolutions scheduled to build upon the previous day's training. It started out in the same way one learns to shoot a gun: with basic safety (i.e. "dry firing") care and cleaning, etc,....and then we began to get into the real meat of it, slowly building the skills at the appropriate time.

The six weeks at "The Tower" were the final culmination of our training, where we put all the academics and practical skills to use in a systematic application of the SOP's. In other words, it was where our real mettle was tested, where we confronted our fears and failings and had to make the choice to push beyond...or fall back.

There were lessons learned, however, that applied to other things. Much of the process was reminiscent of my law enforcement training and work, and for others in my class, of their military experience.  Yet, what we learned wasn't limited to the practical realm.

While I was there, I was also experiencing my return to God. That adage about there being no atheists in foxholes?  Yeah, well, we weren't in foxholes, but when you realize your mortality in exercises that might well actually cost you your life in mere training, well, that tends to introduce you more often to your knees. (Given that I was at the Training Tower on 9/11/2001, that lesson came even more completely home.)

Truly, God was a part of my training even when religion wasn't a formal part of my life.

The Evolution

We were sent into the Residence, where natural gas-inspired fires would burn according to the control of the Training Captains (read: Drill Sergeants).

Each trainee was assigned a position, and we were expected to know the details of each role within that evolution. I happened to draw what was perhaps one of the physically easier roles, but one requiring the most courage with regard to being center stage:  I was on the nozzle for our first "fire".

We went into the building in full gear, airtanks engaged as if the smoke was real, and with a "charged" hoseline running from the Engine at the closest hydrant.  I had the nozzle in hand, felt the door with the back of my gloved hand, opened it, and crawled in under the smoke, my secondary (in real life would be my Captain pushing/yelling)  behind me, "rolling" the tankline just as he was supposed to do.

It was pitch black, so I relied on my training thus far to follow the wall, find the doorknob, find the fire. Finally I opened the door to the proper room and from the midst of the smoke came the hot glow of flames arising from the gas pilot lights, mimicking a real fire. I entered the room slightly, pointed the nozzle, and opened the line. The Drill Sergeant Training Captain yelled at me to get closer, so, holding the fully open hoseline I struggled against the force of the water to crawl in further, surprised by the blast of heat that hit me so quickly. (No textbook explanation can describe this experience.)

I knew about not "steaming us out". I knew I had to nail this thing and had to do it right. My backup person (cadet like me) came up behind me to provide physical support, and just as he was supposed to, pressed his forearm and elbow against my back to brace me. With this initially-helpful counterbalance, I directed the nozzle according to our shared will to make the fire go away.

"ADVANCE! GO! GET THAT NOZZLE UP! GO! GET IN THERE!" 

The Captain began yelling at me to advance. I tried, with all my might! 

 But my partner,expecting me to move on that command,  immediately put more pressure on me. 

The problem was this: he thought he was helping me to move forward, but in actuality, his main pressure point was against my upper back and shoulders. Instead of aiding a tactical advance, he was, in fact driving my entire upper body, and therefore the nozzle (our lifeline) into the ground. 

I tried to yell back at him to back off, but instead he only pushed harder, even while the Captain screamed even more loudly at me to get the nozzle up and to get closer to the fire.

I knew the Captains could see what was going on and wondered why they kept yelling for my advance when they could see that my face was nearly driven to the cement, such that the water stream had gone even lower than the base of the training fire!  I could see it splashing against the brown vents of the "fire source", far below the flames I was supposed to be hitting. With all my strength I was pushing the nozzle hard upward with my hand and biceps, painfully handicapped by the muscles I was not able to use as a result of my co-worker's own battle to get us into the mouth of the dragon. I was desperately attempting to relieve the pressure, desperately trying to crawl forward, completely unable to move because of the force against my upper back, continuing to drive me DOWN, not FORWARD.

Helpless

The screams of the other firefighters yelling at me to "PUT IT OUT!!" "ADVANCE!" "YOU'RE STEAMING US OUT!" still ring through my memory. I can't forget the struggle to push back against my backup, trying to raise the nozzle and put us all out of our misery.

To me, it felt like we were approaching the sun. To them, it felt like they were vegetables being steamed in a convection oven. We were all suffering. We were all miserable, and it seemed that perhaps no one, not even the Captains, realized that I was so totally, embarrassingly helpless.

I was helpless because my backup was oblivious to what he was actually doing, and our Captains, ALL three of them,  continued to scream at me to advance, in spite of the fact it was quite literally impossible to do anything other than lay down and die to get any other message across to them.

Instead, I struggled in utter physical and emotional agony, and finally, at long last, I made my way to the fire, close enough to satisfy the Captains, aiming the nozzle properly enough to satisfy my fellow "firefighters".

The fire went out and, well, I barely remember my exit. The only thing I wanted to do was to breathe fresh air. I exited that fire to an entirely new verbal blast from the other trainees. The Captains didn't even allow me to defend myself...they cut us all off immediately with a command to stand down.

As it turned out, they had a point and knew fully what was going on.

One of their points, from a "personnel" (note: not "personal") standpoint was to see how I would handle being pushed both physically and verbally, especially when the two factors made obedience to either impossible. They wanted to witness the struggle and final outcome.

I didn't know any of this when I stood with my immediate "team" from our first evolution. I only recall standing up wearily, drenched in sweat, listening to the complaints of my coworkers and friends, all of whom had no idea what had just happened and why. I left the training building feeling like a total failure, knowing that I had lost respect, certain that in the future, NONE of them would ever want to work with me, certain I would kill them and anyone we were sent in to save. 

Then the Captains surprised us all

Yes, they were critical of me; as this was a first-time attempt, certainly I made errors, and serious ones at that!  Those errors were expected and normal. Our superiors went through a litany of errors that didn't leave a single classmate within that evolution untouched. I was certain I would be crucified in this one, and waited, expecting the worst, but, well, that was the capstone:  the harshest criticism was reserved for my #2 person: the guy who was supposed to be backing me up!

The Captains pointed out that it wasn't my fault that they and my coworkers were getting steamed out; it was HIS fault. They actually noted how hard I struggled against him in my attempts to advance, the effect of his force, and spoke of the physics of leverage.

I am not a tall person, but this guy was. All his strength, although intended otherwise, was put into pushing my upper back and shoulders DOWNWARD. It was HE who drove the nozzle into the ground, and me with it. The Captains could see that I wasn't hesitating, but was quite literally trapped by "friendly fire".

They preached awareness, not just of ourselves, but of those we are backing up. As a shorter person, they emphasized where I would need to place support on a taller person, and actually reversed our physical positions to demonstrate this for the entire group, with an open hoseline. For the tall firefighters working with a shorter person, they emphasized the importance of proper position, for the force from behind in any case will quite literally redirect the nozzle, usually to detrimental effect.

They spoke of communication, of the need for both people to be close enough to know each other well, to speak freely and  to be aware of the other and what they needed. It had to be a team effort. They had seen me trying, my partner not listening. It had to be a two-way street or, well...people would die. Those were the stakes.

Oh, yes, I learned that day how important the #2 person is, and it's a lesson I've never forgotten. Even though I was personally vindicated in that particular scenario, I have come to realize that there's more to that lesson, and where it matters, well...I'm the #2 person and I've more than pushed others down: I've steamrolled right over them in a misguided effort to get them to where I thought they should go.

That brings me to the main point:

That lesson makes sense in Evangelization, too.

In Evangelization, we are trying to advance a soul towards the light of Christ, towards salvation. In effect, they are "on the nozzle".

If the backup person is too harsh, too overbearing, instead of helping that soul towards the Divine Fire, they are driving them into stagnancy, or perhaps even worse.

Coming on too strong is as bad as being too lax; in both cases, the soul in question is left in limbo and might actually be destroyed.

There is a balance to maintain, it relies upon teamwork, and God is the Source, the Catalyst, and the Captain.  Every effort comes FROM Him and is directed TOWARDS Him. Any effort that places pressure so as to direct the focus away from Him is, well...deadly. (Yes, there is a place for backfires, for containment, for "surround and drown"...in spiritual terms we call those techniques the Sacraments, Sacred Tradition, and the Intercession of the Saints, among other spiritual realities.)

Every so often, when I think of evangelization and the mistakes I've witnessed or those I have made myself, I recall that scene, there in the training house, and I recall the sense of panic, the steam, the heat, and the pressure that wouldn't allow me to either advance or flee...and I am brought to empathy.

We are called to lay down our lives in service to Christ. We are NOT called to sacrifice the lives and souls of others. If we deny others the free will given to them by God, we both deny Christ and become culpable for all those we cause to flee from Him.

Evangelization isn't about us; it's about Jesus Christ and the salvation of souls, and the second we lose that focus, we drive others away, and may, in fact, spiritually murder them.

Evangelization must be bound and driven by Divine Charity, directed towards Hope, underscored by Faith. We need to be able to step aside, recalling that conversion and salvation do not depend on us. Many souls need a gentle approach, and hard sales tactics do nothing other than scare them away, or in the terms I experienced, drive them into the ground, paralyzing them.

It is a great temptation for believers to pressure others we love to go where we want them to go, however we must remain cognizant that our pushiness may not be the will of God, no matter what we may think. Perhaps some souls need to suffer in order to be brought to conversion. Perhaps they need to fall away in order to understand what they have lost.(I fell into both categories, and then some).

We have to recall that God is the only one who can bring good out of evil, and He allows evil and suffering for just such a purpose. Look at Our Lord Jesus Christ for this example! Who are any of us to complain of suffering in the face of the One who suffered on our behalf and invites us to partake, to unite our own sufferings to His?

Everyone We Meet is Fighting a Hard Battle

We must act with mercy, in light of what we know of divine justice. For our part, we must temper all we do with true charity, which is not a "warm and fuzzy" type of "total acceptance of all things".  What I experienced that day in the tower was real charity:  I suffered what I perceived as injustice, but were it not for that experience, neither I nor my fellow cadets would have gotten that lesson from any side.

True charity can be harsh, for it has in its sight the ultimate good of every soul. It meets the soul where it is and directs it to something greater. It allows the soul to suffer for what it thinks it loves in order that it might become purified enough to experience what it truly loves.

We must take care of the souls who come across our paths, and be willing to be gentle where a gentle touch is needed. It is easy to be forceful in evangelization;  most of those called to this work in a serious way have strong personalities; it is hard to stand down when the love of Our Lord drives one onward. Yet that very love must be the cause of awareness, for when only one soul is lost, if only one soul flees....we are all deprived.

We all suffer. We are all steamed out.

We become less if only one is compromised.

We lose souls if, out of our pride we forget to take a backseat to those we love.

We lose our own souls if we forget to take a backseat to God.

Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin - It's Not a Cop-out!

Reader Jose asks:

On the question of mercy and forgiveness I have trouble. I've brought it up before. My parents, being good at it, taught me that actions speak louder than words. So, I have come to regard my actions as more important than what I say. I see my actions as a true reflection of who I am. Even to myself. In other words, my parents linked my SELF to my ACTIONS, hoping to make sure I became a good person. I think that has created a problem for me as a Christian. It's hard for me to separate people’s actions from their SELVES. If they lie, they are liars. If they steal, they are thieves. If I were to put it into other words still, I cannot hate the sin and love the sinner. I equate people with their actions. If their actions are bad...how are THEY not bad?


Jose, again, thanks for your question, and as usual, it's a good one!

You bring up, at heart, the problem voiced by the adage, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” How does one do that???

It’s a great question, and it’s one many don’t understand, and even consider to be a “cop out”. Seriously, the people who take such a position are anti-intellectual post-modernists looking for comfort, not Truth. Don’t be cowed by such pop-responses, for there is nothing to back them up.

In order to understand this, one must know what "Sin" is and something about the nature of God. 

If one is to accept something as a sin, one must also accept that there is a proper authority that defines sin, definitively, objectively, and without a philosophical Locke-like defense attorney looking to redefine it according to any terms that might get the sinner off on a lesser, more comfortable word.

Sin is an offense against God. God is immutable, meaning he doesn’t change. Sin is not a part of God, but a part of us, as human beings. God, being all-Holy and all-Love, created us out of that love in order to love Him eternally, and be loved by Him eternally. When we sin, God does not do anything for sin offends our relationship with God. It’s all on OUR END, as it has been forever – Sacred Scripture documents this. We fall away. He tries to reconcile. We fall away. Etc. God is Faithful: we as humanity are screwed up and choose to be so, at least in part. 

Compare it to this common type of scenario:

(The following is not necessarily reflective of Jose's life or experience. "You" should be read creatively.)

You love your mother, right? But maybe your mother asks you to do something like, say, contact your brothers and sisters on her behalf to invite them to a gathering at her home for Mother's Day. You refuse this simple task because you decide that going fishing with your buddies or vegging in front of your TV is a far more interesting event than calling four siblings  you spoke with just yesterday. So you simply don’t do it and as a result, your brothers and sisters don’t show up at your mother’s house as she expected and as soon as they don’t arrive, she realizes you didn’t carry out that very simple task, and she is deeply offended. She still loves you, but she is mad as heck and your relationship with her is affected in a big way. In fact, she won’t be asking you to do ANYTHING outside of her direct supervision for a very long time, even if you ARE an adult. That’s how much damage simply ignoring her directive has done.

That’s a sin. It’s a terrible, terrible thing to disregard one’s mother, and as you know, your mother is like you in her emotions and human suffering, but it doesn’t change the fact that she is your mother, and she loves you and will not forsake you even for being an insufferable jerk.

Neither will God. And he puts up with far worse from us. 

You, Jose, say that you can’t separate actions from the person, but if you really look at YOUR life, can you say that you have not offended your parents, friends, or other loved ones in some way? In ways that were willful? Have you ALWAYS honored your mother and father as the Commandments say?

So, if you have failed in that way, or others found in a basic Examination of Conscience…does that make you a bad person?

Yes, it does, according to YOUR definition. According to your definition, provided in your question, you are the sum of your most horrible sins against man and God.

But, Jose, ARE you REALLY the sum of your Sins?

Maybe it’s more important to ask: How does GOD define you, us?

Here’s the truth: God made us good, but we fell and now we have a propensity for sin. We screw up a lot, and because of that, God sent His Only Son, Jesus, to suffer our penalty for sin, ransom us, and open Heaven so that we might become Saints in eternal adoration, eternally beloved!

On the way to that, though, we all get lost, and because Jesus died for us, we CAN’T be defined by the sum of our offenses, but rather, we are defined by the summation of who we are created to BE!

You can’t, therefore, get caught up in combining the Action with the definition of the Person. In your question, you have defined the person by the action. Do YOU think God defines you only by your actions, or do you trust in His Mercy?

Ask yourself that question, and ask it over and over again when you are tempted by the other way.

So to you, Jose, and anyone else who doesn't understand how the sin is separate from the sinner,  I suggest turning your philosophy to the side a bit. Rather than defining the Person as an Action, try looking at actions through God’s definition of a beloved Son or Daughter, and see how that changes, and how the virtue of Mercy enters and transforms your fundamental view of humanity.

As Archbishop Chaput, said, “The blood of the Cross reminds us that - at least on one day in history - love had no limits. And since then everything has been different.”

Indeed. That’s a reminder for us every day.

We COULD define people by their actions ALONE…or we could look upon their actions through the penetrating nails of mercy provided by the blood of the Cross. If we are Christians, we MUST adhere to the latter, for that is how God sees US; through the holes left by the nails in the hands and feet of His Son.

How else would we have any Saints at all?  All have sinned. All have failed. St. Paul was a murderer as was Moses. St. Augustine was an immoral hound dog among other moral failings, Peter denied Jesus 3 times, Dismas was an admitted criminal even as he died on the cross with Christ, and Bl. Matthew Talbot was an alcoholic.

Are those people the sum of their actions, or are they the fulfillment, now, of who they were called to BE? Why do we know their names? Why do we honor them if they ARE their worst actions?

That is how we separate the sin from the sinner: we recognize the dignity of the human person, knowing why he was created and the final ends towards which he is drawn, even if he loses his way every now and again...or even every day.

God does not ultimately look at how many times we fall, but how many times we get up and try once again to follow Him.

Were it not for free will, there would be no offense against God (sin), and were it not for Sin, there would be no Redemption. That is why we cry out during the Easter Vigil, the Exultet, "O felix culpa! O happy fault, that has gained for us so great a Redeemer!"

Jose, I hoped this helped you. Please comment or send a note if clarification is needed.

God bless you and may God’s Mercy be yours!

Signed,

~ A fellow sinner praying never to become the sum of her actions.

Fleeing the Cross

Recently I had to give a presentation at work, and it was to an audience that, traditionally, hasn't been very receptive to the subject matter, simply because they are required to be there to receive it whether they desire it or not.

To be honest, for weeks prior to this, months, even, I dread the annual affair, for my own experience of it took something I once enjoyed and warped it into one of my worst nightmares.

In my first year in my job, when I gave a speech on this same topic, I was nearly crucified...after the audience got over their shock at Catholic teaching. Their reaction took exactly one week to percolate before the outrage overflowed upon my boss, the school principal, and the Pastor. Not a single one of the outraged souls confronted me directly, and even at the end of the year their negative evaluations remained anonymous.

It made me realize that, first of all...angry Catholics are largely passive-aggressive. Very few are willing to be hostile to my face, and most, if forced to confront me, find their desire to be hostile melting away. There is a simple reason for this:  humanity speaks to humanity, compassion speaks to compassion, truth speaks to truth.

But...there are those who simply do not want to be confronted, and changed, by Truth, Compassion and...simple Humanity.

It's unfortunate, but it's our fallen nature that drives this.

That knowledge does not make it any easier to handle, however, when one is on the end of receiving the passive-aggressive and sometimes even outright in-your-face hostility.

My first experience of outright anger in an audience was so palpable that if I hadn't had some serious training in speech competetion and in speaking to groups that were open to the Gospel, I probably would not have been able to finish.

As it is, I still bear scars from that horrible encounter, for now, every time I have to go before this kind of crowd, I hit a level of anxiety which, in normal people, has to be medicated. (tongue-in-cheek).

The fact is this:  What I once thought I would enjoy doing professionally has become one of the biggest crosses in my professional life.

I thought, upon entering my position, that the opportunity to speak to groups on my favorite topic of Eternal Salvation was an incredible, and...FUN...blessing!  I imagined all the happy people who would be there ready to receive the Word of God, the Traditions of the Apostles, and revel in our shared Faith, especially in light of the benefit to their children.

In spite of my Pollyanna attitude and my incredibly brilliant soapbox, I learned that the typical condition of humanity in any given Church involves backbiting, passive-aggressiveness and outright hostility, with a little frosting of a few supportive souls who are glad to be there but thrilled they don't have to stand there on the gallows, singing to their executioners.

Every year now, I recognize the gallows for what they are, and I approach in trepidation. What I once loved has become an object of dread. What I once saw as a chance for Hope has become an object of despair. What I once saw as a chance to share our Faith has become the recognition of a Faith rejected. What I once saw as simple charity has become the fulfillment of what Divine Charity is all about.

It's taken several years, and I've groaned and complained, I've tried to get out of it by hiring speakers, but always, my supervisor has intervened and told me, "No, YOU have to do this. Maybe next year will be different, but this time, YOU have to step up to the plate again and deliver this message for Our Lord."

Each time, inwardly, I've groaned, and outwardly, I've complained to my friends and to some of my co-workers, even my boss.

But I've carried on because there is no one else and I simply haven't anywhere to go if I quit.

63 It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life. 64 But there are some of you who do not believe." Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe and the one who would betray him. 65 And he said, "For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father." 66 As a result of this, many (of) his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. 67 Jesus then said to the Twelve, "Do you also want to leave?" 68 Simon Peter answered him, "Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. (John 6:63-68)

Every year I agonize, I practice, and I've even been hauled into Father's office for a critique on what is wrong, technically, with my speaking abilities. (He is always right, by the way, and I'm grateful for his suggestions.)

And every year as the date approaches, I sleep less, dread more deeply, and look more and more askance at Jesus, wondering what I'm doing here and why I am doing this.

Each year is a new purgation, skinning layers of my pride as deeply and painfully as St. Bartholomew was skinned by his own persecutors. (I do believe he had it worse).

Perspective

Although I've often thought of it, sometimes have written of it, I know that the privilege of speaking on the central beliefs of our Faith to such an audience as this is truly a gift of God's Grace. It's a gift I don't always want to receive, but I must at least admit to the fact that I have been formally called to it (outside of my own desires) and have had to cooperate with that directive.

I know that in my first year, the reaction of others was partially my own faulty delivery of the message, for I was not as nuanced as I could have been and did not realize how my words would be taken - which was far from the way intended.

Part of what I suffer, even in having been correct in teaching, was still my fault, for even the proper message when delivered improperly ends up in the same place as every other piece of misdelivered mail. Some remember that misdirected mail and still hold me in suspicion.

So it is, so it has been, so it will be.

What I struggle so hard to live, though, is the gift of being able to speak to an audience much like those to whom Jesus and the Apostles spoke:  hostile, unreceptive, unwelcoming, indifferent, outright angry.

Yes. When I have to speak and deliver certain Biblical teachings, certain teachings of our beliefs, and know that unreceptivity of the audience, I know, intellectually, that it is what Our Lord suffered, too, and still suffers.

As I've asked before, WHY SHOULD I BE ANY DIFFERENT???

Indeed. It is a gift to suffer what He did.

I only pray I can learn to bear it so patiently.

Unworthy Servant

More and more, I've been struggling not to become disheartened by the state of the Church. Or, rather, by the state of souls that make up the Church.

Those who form their image of the Catholic Church only from their online activities see a great deal of hope, and indeed, there is! However, the active, joyful, and even sometimes contentious drama of the online "St. Blog's Parish" doesn't even come CLOSE to comparing to the dynamics of the average real-life Catholic Church right down the road from you.

I say this with a very heavy heart. So often, for example, I will ask groups of people, or individuals about this or that very popular and well-known Catholic devotion. I receive in return, blank stares. Parents come up to me to complain that they pay for the Church to raise their children in the Faith and become very offended at being informed that the Church has always held that parents are the primary educators of their children and the Church, or rather, those hired (and hopefully qualified) to teach are there to AID them, not take over and turn their children into little Stepford Catholics.

Faith is learned in the home; it is reinforced and elevated through Mass and through religious education so that it may be better lived out every moment of every day. 

When I first began in parish work, I was quite the little idealist.

Well, I think it's time to admit that my last shred of idealism has been completely demolished. Quite honestly, I'm surprised it lasted this long.

I used to love public speaking and when I began in my parish job, I went to work with enthusiasm, anticipating (quite idiotically and naively, actually) that those members of the parish who came to mandatory meetings might actually want to be there and look forward to learning more about their faith. (HA!)

Certainly, there are some who do fit that description, but there are far more who are there but don't really care, and others who are quite openly hostile and disrespectful, not just of the presenter, but of others who are also present.

I now dread each and every time I have to get up in front of a group of adults and teach. It doesn't get easier to deal with hostility and juvenile behavior of adults. Quite honestly, I would rather present to a group of angry, hormone-unbalanced middle schoolers than a group of adults with even one of  whom has taken on the persona of her own hostile teenage self. (And you know, it's never the guys who are openly hostile in a parish: it's the women.)

I was really praying about this yesterday, and after a speaking engagement, afterwards as well. I returned home from work last night so disheartened and frustrated I sincerely considered turning in my resignation and casting it all to the wind.

Thankfully, although I do sometimes consider such crazy things, I don't tend to act upon them knowing that, quite honestly, it is pondering out of emotion and not out of reason, and certainly not making a decision from prayer!

To prayer I went, and, there, I was immediately chastised back to my senses. 

In the Adoration chapel, when considering my change of heart with regard to the joy I no longer find in teaching adults, I  once again had to consider the nature of what I am doing. When I taught RCIA, I was teaching a group of people who wanted to be there. Even if they weren't sure about wanting to become Catholic, they had a sincere interest in learning. Their entire outlook was one of good will, and even on points of disagreement, they asked questions and looked for clarification.

Then, upon working in a parish, I learned very quickly that although there are many people of good will and a charitable outlook, there are all too many who simply don't care. They are not open to receiving the message of the Gospel, they don't know or care to know why the Sacraments are important, and the response they send, loud and clear is, "This is not my affair; I'm paying others to do this, don't bother me by talking about Jesus."

And there, in that contemplation of reality, is where Jesus "spoke" to me, reminding me of His own experience of speaking to the crowds. How many times have I read, or heard proclaimed from the pulpit, the fact that crowds tried to stone Jesus, that they rejected Him, heckled Him, walked away, and returned only to beat Him to a pulp and crucify Him?

"Why should YOU be any different?"  He asked me.

Why, indeed.

Have I not professed to love Jesus with all my heart and soul, and profess to desire to follow Him?  Have I not written on this very blog, over and over again, that following Him is a sacrifice and in order to do so, we must join our own bloody footprints with His? Are we not called to unite our sufferings with His....especially when we are participating in His work on earth?

Before I went to bed last night I read more of "The Imitation of Mary", and it was as if these chapters were exactly meant for me as I passed through that darkness of near-despair last night.

"If you carry your cross impatiently, you only make it heavier, and add evil to evil. 

The way of the cross is the way to heaven....unhappy are those Christians who turn to their own ruin what is intended for their salvation! They are like the thief at Christ's side on Calvary who blasphemed.

We often implore heaven to free us of our crosses, but we do not know what we are asking (cf. Mt20,22), for these crosses are a copious source of merit for us.

Where will you find greater fruits of holiness and surpassing virtue than in the shadow of the cross on Calvary?

Oh, yes, that was meant for me to read last night. But there was more:

What a joy to be judged worthy of sharing Jesus' sufferings in a special degree!

A disciple is perfect when he becomes like his teacher (cf. Lk6,40). Jesus, our teacher, whose perfections we must try to imitate, endured the greatest tribulations.

There are few perfect souls that have not been through some hard test.

In practicing the virtues which involve suffering we show God a more generous love than we do in the active virtues. 

My God, great wrongs, imprisonments, or long cruel illnesses need not always be the lot of Your saints, but You have at least prepared other crosses for them which may not seem so terrible but which serve to make them die to themselves.

I wish I could reproduce these pages for you, for each and every word struck me like a sword to the core of my soul, chastising me for my unfaithfulness, reminding me of the cross I had willingly accepted, and yet, desiring to cast away upon deciding a bit arbitrarily it was just too heavy these days.

What I realized most profoundly, though, was this:  Jesus went to the Cross for each and every soul, personally. We all go to Him for mercy and forgiveness, we all sin, doing violence to Him in choosing to rupture our relationship with Him in favor of some shiny bauble here on earth, or even worse, out of our own self-love.

In my rebellion last night, essentially what I did when I complained to Our Lord, was to tell him, "These souls aren't worth it. They are not worth my discomfort. I am not willing to bleed for them."

And that's when, interiorly, I looked upon the Cross, and understood what I was doing. By turning away from those I have been called to serve at this time in my life, I am turning away from Christ Himself, I am rejecting all the mercy I have received from Him, and I am refusing to show His own mercy and Divine Charity to others.

I am ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.

So it is that this unworthy servant will return to work, carry this cross, and remember that all I suffer, all we who work in parishes suffer, is a direct participation in the Sacrifice at Calvary.

Thank you, Jesus.

Sacred and Profane: Where Adoro goes, Grace Abounds More

This week has been an interesting one. I've been at the NCEA (National Catholic Education Association) Conference held here at the Minneapolis Convention Center.

Now, just to get rid the the Elephant in the Room: I did not attend anti-Catholic, anti-Life, pro-Gay "marriage" Garrison Keillor's keynote speech yesterday. I'm shocked he was ALLOWED to speak given the Archdiocesan Speaker Policy, and as I understand it (unconfirmed by an official source) the good Archbishop Neinstedt actually asked NCEA NOT to have him. But then they went for popularity instead of content. All this is heresay, though;  I don't know why Keillor was allowed to speak and I refuse to defend his abominable presence. There might have been reason, but in light of the policy, I can't see that reason myself and need it explained to me.

Anyway...

I  learned that I hate discussing curriculum (I actually already knew this), and received affirmation that the idea of being a teacher and reviewing textbooks and curriculum makes me so itchy and uncomfortable that when my boss brings up this or that book or curriculum, the only thing I want to do is exit freely while kicking and screaming.

I think that true teachers actually care about those things. I don't. I hate them.  *cringe*

That's not the say, though, that the week was useless.Much to my surprise, I attended several professional development sessions which, although they were geared towards actual school teachers or principles, there is some content that can be applied in my work, for our students, catechists, and even parents. There are some practical points I hope to put into practice, or at least pass on to those under my guidance. There are a few things I hope to apply to myself in my own work.

Along with all that professional stuff, though, all that Sacred, we still had the Profane to keep us entertained.

Oh,  yes. Where Adoro goes, grace abounds more.  

This week, I took my friends into Hell, and as we found out, with my guidance, there was no waiting!

As we left the Convention Center for lunch, we wondered where best to go. A few blocks up were many restaurants. Being that we were in Downtown Minneapolis, we didn't want to go to some cheap chain we could find around the corner from work.  If we were going to walk down the street for food, we wanted food to remember. Some stuff was ruled out, like Ruth's Chris and Manny's. (Who can afford those places?)   We came, then to a crossroad at 2nd Ave and 9th St.

We didn't have a lot of time, so had to choose:  Keys Cafe' or Hell's Kitchen?

Although I scandalized myself at the juxtaposition of such dire opposites (Keys vs Hell), I did what my coworkers asked me to do, and I made the decision:  Hell.

If nothing else, I thought, we'd have this wonderful receipt to turn in to our straitlaced parish bookkeeper who would read on it, "Hell's Kitchen" and wonder at the Faith Formation department that decided to Descend for lunch.

And descend we did!  

We entered the door under the sign only to find that we had to descend the steps into Hell (that is, the restaurant itself.)  Other convention-goers were in front of us, and specifically a party of 6.  (Does anyone else find that ironic?).  The party of 6, when asked, was told that their 6 could not be seated for another 10 minutes. They were diverted off to a side hallway to await their judgment seating.

My coworkers and I discussed this as we overheard it and decided to stay anyway, for, given that it was shortly after noon, we knew we'd have to stand in line or wait anywhere we went. Walking along to the next place would eat up time.

So as the party ahead moved to the side, and I was greeted by the minion Concierge of Hell's Kitchen, I told him that we are 3. He and the other minion hostess conferred, and we were informed that there was immediate seating for us...and we were led around the bar and into the next level. This also led to much hilarity as my coworkers recognized that apparently, with me leading, there is No Waiting in Hell.

The food was good, and in fact, we learned that in Hell, Buffalo is the staple.

Both my boss and I ordered a Buffalo burger, although with different toppings. When our meal was delivered, I received my white-topped (white cheddar) burger, and the waiter came out with a similar looking one for my boss. She saw the cheddar which looked like mine and said that she'd ordered bleu cheese. He took it back although she said it would be fine, but he feared maybe it was another person's order. No problem. Unable to find the other customer, he brought it back with apologies, my coworker thought it was fine and told him so; she was happy to eat it.  In the meantime I had bitten into my own burger and realized that the waiter hadn't confused the table..but the orders.  I had the bleu cheese.Which I'd almost ordered, anyway.

Still, though, we were happy with our meals. To our surprise, thoughl our hostess came back, apologizing for the waiter. He was very upset at the mistake and wanted to make it up to us, offering us one of their Famous Carmel rolls! But we knew we were all full, and even splitting it between the 3 of us would be too much. Our hostess said that our waiter was nearly in tears, and when she stepped away we commented at how deep the feeling was in the customer service in Hell! Seriously...I haven't ever had a waiter who REALLY felt that bad about such a simple mistake. In the end, as we didn't accept the Carmel Roll, they decided to give us free beverages, and on behalf of our employer, the parish, we happily accepted the discount.

(Seriously...how many people do you know have gotten a discount in Hell?)

I thought back to all the old jokes about the guy who went to Hell and was shown 3 doors. Two of them upside-down in..uh...refuse. The last one, they were standing, talking, socializing and having a great time while sipping cups of coffee. Looking around in Hell's Kitchen, I saw families, including very small children, tucked there in between weird art and a children's program being shown on a big screen. A simple menu encompassing American cuisine (heavy on the Native!), aimed at the family.  What a great place!  It was classy, it was pretty peaceful, and obviously a respectable place in spite of the name!

It was because of this that I kept waiting for someone to jump on the PA system and yell, "OK EVERYONE! COFFEE BREAK IS OVER!"

Instead, we got a waiter with an overdeveloped sense of customer service who had made a minor error that wasn't his fault as he hadn't been the one to directly take our orders, and we  got a hostess who was funny, kind and down to earth, to the degree that when she gave coffee to my coworker she said comfortably, "This will wake your ass up!"

We liked her immediately, and our waiter as well.

As we were leaving, we decided to have our pic taken under the restaurant sign. Just then a man emerged from the general hallway coming from Hell's Kitchen, who agreed to take our pic with my boss's camera phone.

After we finished and thanked him, he said he was the nephew of the founder, and asked what brought us to Minneapolis.  Ha! We're FROM here! But...we explained...we were specifically there because of a religious education conference and thought it would be fun to visit Hell in the process.

Much to our surprise, expecting eye-rolling or general politeness, the man wished us "luck in your ministries", and that stopped us in our tracks. He asked us what we do, and then shared that he does some "street evangelization" there in Downtown.

I couldn't help myself. (People who know me shouldn't be surprised at what I said next.)  I asked him, "Do you street-evangelize from Hell?"

Thankfully he took the question well, and with humor. (The answer is no...he literally hits the street, not Hell!) and all I have to say is this: I hope he brings many souls to Christ! It takes real courage to do such a thing, and I wish we Catholics could get over ourselves enough to do it, too.  Gosh..in comparison to Evangelicals, we have no "personality" at all!  (Incidentally I'm actively working on forming a program that will form Catholics to have such courage and conviction!)

Now...for the record, lest I scandalize anyone:  the Restaurant "Hell's Kitchen" isn't named for Hell, but for the neighborhood in Brooklyn NY (kinda) and for the actual HEAT in the kitchen!  It has no association with the popular reality TV show and celebrity chef, nor the ontological reality of the place people who reject God in hatefulness go to after death.   In fact, I think this restaurant and name pre-dates popular culture!

Back to Sacred

There were many Religious Sisters at the Conference, and I was happy to, several times, run into my friends, the SCMC's, whom I visited last summer in Connecticut.  This afternoon one of the Sisters and I wandered about the exhibit hall, picking up freebies, hobnobbing, and talking with old friends.  I found some great resources, made some great contacts, and strengthened an already-good friendship.  What's not to love about that?

When it was time we headed to the Auditorium for the closing Mass. I couldn't reach my coworkers and hadn't seen them in a couple hours, so I ended up sitting with the Sisters and the teachers from their school, and was somehow given some kind of a "recommendation" to the Principal. His response: any friend of Sister is a friend of mine!  Ha ha!

The Mass was celebrated by Archbishop John Neinstedt, was MC'd by Fr. John Paul Erickson, and concelebrated by many priests. As such, there was no nonsense...it was a beautiful, reverent Mass, and a perfect way to end the Conference.

I admit I hadn't wanted to go to the NCEA conference, but I have to also admit that it was a good experience, I did attend some valuable professional training sessions and made some important contacts.

It is good to end with the Sacred, and so I ask for your prayers for all the Catholic Educators out there who are truly trying to do the right things for your children. They do care about doctrine and how to present it faithfully. They do care about whether or not you as parents are involved....and how best to make sure you know you are the most important part of the education of your children.

God bless teachers, God bless parents, who are primary in teaching their children!  God send us many more!