Holy Family

Today is the Feast of the Holy Family, and we hear about finding Christ in the temple, we hear that He went home and was obedient to his parents, Mary and Joseph. It is the beginning of the hidden life of the Holy Family, and during the homily we usually we hear about the importance of family in our society.

Indeed, this Feast falls immediately after Christmas for good reason, and isn't it even more meaningful in this time  when we are spending extra time with our own families?  Especially given the fact that the experience isn't usually, well...very idyllic?  It is important for us to recognize that the Holy Family suffered hardships as well.

I have to ask, though:   while we consider our biological families, have we given any thought to our spiritual family? More specifically, have we given any thought or prayer to our spiritual fathers, both those who bring us to Christ and bring Christ to us, and those who SHOULD be doing so but are under lock and key living a persecution many refuse to acknowledge?

Today, I bring you an important article from Charlene C. Duline, published in, of all places, the National Catholic Reporter in 2007:

Throwaway priests


Dishonored and disgraced for their crimes, fallen priests deserve our sympathy


By CHARLENE C. DULINE


Does the Catholic Church remember its fallen priests, the priests who molested children and are now serving time in prisons? Who among us has asked for blessings for them as they serve their time behind bars? The hands that once consecrated the host that became the body of Christ now reek of ammonia from cleaning toilets.


Amid the flurry of accusations, trials, more accusations, payoffs, and dioceses declaring bankruptcy, I began to wonder about the treatment of priests in prison. I wondered how their fellow inmates treated them. Were they revered as men of the cloth or debased as child molesters? 

To abuse a child is a horrific act. I know because I was an abused child. Some might find it astonishing that I, the victim of such abuse many years ago, could feel sorry for these fallen priests. Despite the desire for revenge that still burns deep in my heart, something in me wanted to reach out to these men who had served God despite their failings. I wondered if our church ministered to them in any form.


Through the Internet I was able to get information on the accused priests, their sentences and where they were serving their time. I wrote to some of them. I also posted my desire to hear from them on Web sites sympathetic to the defrocked men. Some of their responses astounded me. They all asked to remain anonymous. Most of the priests I heard from indicated that they had no access to Catholic chaplains or materials, including retirement monies they thought they had a right to. It seems that the church that once embraced them and covered up their crimes has abandoned them. They have been defrocked or laicized and are now treated as pariahs. Their situation in prison is not pleasant.


One priest, now 79 years old, wrote, “Mistreatment by the young inmates is continually horrendous. Insults, curses, spitting and assaults are daily. From one attack I received 42 bruises.”


During the 11 years this priest has been in prison, several close family members, including his mother, have died. Other family members do not communicate with him because he “embarrassed the family.” He believes that he will die a lonely death in prison. He’s probably right.

Read the rest.

Whether they are guilty or innocent, whether they have been dispensed or not, they remain our spiritual fathers, a part of our family. Neither we nor they can undo what God has done. Canonical privileges can be removed, but the indelible mark upon their souls cannot be undone.

I, for one, am grateful for our spiritual fathers, and while I do not condone or support criminal activity, I also abhor how these men have been treated. Having worked with sex offenders in an adolescent treatment facility years ago, I can testify that those kids and even their own abusers have been treated far better than the Church, the Mother of Mercy, has treated her beloved but disgraced Sons. It's absolutely scandalous.

Are we a Church of mercy or are we not? 

The point is not that we deny what has been done and  most certainly we do not deny the reality suffered by the victims.  What we are saying is that justice has its place, and without forgiveness, justice is not done in ANY corner.  There is no mercy without justice, and there is no justice if it is not tempered by mercy.

Yet when we look at imprisoned priests, we see that there is no mercy for them; not from us, their family, not from anyone.

What of the Innocent Priests, Unjustly Imprisoned without their right to Due Process both through our legal system AND through the Church?  

We know of those cases, such as that of Fr. Gordon MacRae, unjustly imprisoned, suffering a purgatory for sins he did not commit, offering those days for we who live in freedom, which we so often take as a "right" to live in ways that are a direct affront to God Himself.

What a disgrace!

Sadly, we don't, in our time, seem to know the first thing about family. We first deny the need for it, we do all we can politically to disrupt it (same-sex "marriage", contraception, abortion, divorce, etc.), and we do all we can to disgrace it.  So it comes as no surprise that we treat our spiritual family with even less regard, especially our spiritual fathers, many of whom are rotting away, forgotten, perhaps forgiven by God but shunned by the rest of us.

Forgiveness does not mean acceptance of sin, it does not mean endorsement of illegal activity. But it DOES require charity, it DOES require remembering that we are all in need of forgiveness, that each life is willed by God, and loved by God.  Those we shun are STILL loved by God, and when they are left in desolation, it is WE who sin...not they.

Today, as we celebrate the Holy Family, recall to mind not just your own family, but your spiritual family, the entire Mystical Body of Christ and most especially those who have been willfully forgotten, willfully shunned, willfully ignored.

My prayers today go out to all priests and religious, throughout the world, who are imprisoned for any reason,  justly or unjustly. They, like we all, are children of God, willed by God, loved by God....and forgotten by the rest of us.

Please join your prayers with mine.

Right now, in this moment, as I write this, Fr. MacRae is offering Mass from his prison cell. If you read this, please unite yourself spiritually to Our Lord in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and remember whose hands bring Heaven and Earth together in this moment.

In this moment, the Suffering Church, the Church Militant, is united with the Church Triumphant....

Divine Justice and the Ransom of Israel

The Mass readings leading up to Advent, and even entering Advent give us pause. They speak of destruction, of our ends, and of final Justice.

They do not help us enter into warm and fuzzy consolations, but rather, force us to face the cold, hard reality of our final ends when we are called to our own particular judgment. They call us not to sleep in comfort even as we continue to embrace our favorite sins (for we ALL have our favorite sins), but to let them go, knowing that sleeping in comfort is a luxury we can't afford when we must contemplate the face of Our God.

I lament the fact that we so rarely hear, in homilies, of the last four things:  Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell.

The fact is:  we will all die, and it's not going to be a predictable moment for the vast majority of us.

Advent calls us to take some time to truly examine ourselves and see if we are prepared, for even as we look forward to the celebration of the birth of the Messiah, we also look towards the Second Coming. While it is a joyous occasion, it is also one of sobriety, for  it is entirely possible that we will NOT measure up. It is entirely possible that we have become well acquainted with mortal sin and habitual venial sin, and give ourselves as slaves to our passions instead of dedicating ourselves to love of Our Lord.

It is a time to remember that at any moment, we may be standing before Jesus Christ as both Judge and Savior, and it depends on US as to what role He will fulfill in that moment.

What have we chosen in life?  EVERY act of sin is a decision AGAINST true charity. EVERY mortal sin is a decision to sever our own lives from Christ.

Every decision to receive Holy Communion while in the state of mortal sin not only compounds our terrible deathly state, but is in itself an act of sacrilege.

The Crucifix is Divine Justice

Every time we look upon the Crucifix, while it is important that we see there the love and mercy of Jesus Christ, we must ALSO recognize and take to heart this very personal act of Divine Justice.

Jesus didn't suffer his Passion and Death in order to lay the foundation for a dramatic screen play.  He didn't give himself over to the extreme torture of scourging and crucifixion in order to satisfy a mere myth and give people something to talk about for awhile.

The Crucifixion was all about Divine Justice, just as it was about Divine Mercy.  The problem is that all we tend to hear about these days is Divine Mercy.

We need a balance, for one part of the message is completely useless without the other.

We have to remember, when we recall the mercy of Jesus Christ, that His bloody visage wasn't just a weird moulage so a few EMT's could practice their trade on a real victim.  He TRULY suffered every penalty assigned to Israel for their sin.

Jesus suffered all the thorns that were prescribed to Adam and his descendants, and in fact, was scourged by things that tore into his flesh even more effectively than even the worst thicket of buck thorn.  The crown of thorns that was woven and placed around and into the tender flesh of his head was a revelation of the prescribed remedy for sin, and in fact, being hung on a cross of wood fulfilled the condemnation in Deuteronomy regarding the Accursed. God Himself directed that any that were hung from the tree were Accursed in His sight, and those who were accursed...were not in line for redemption.

Sacrificial Lamb

Throughout the Old Testament, we read of the sacrifice of atonement, of the lambs led to slaughter, and recall to mind Abraham, who was directed to offer his only son for sacrifice to the Lord. I still remember the first time I heard that story, and my utter horror that God would do such a thing, only to learn it was a test of Abraham's faith, an event proleptic of God's Justice.

God did not exercise His Justice in demanding what He was not willing to offer. In fact, He Himself was made Incarnate so that He could be offered in the place of all His beloved;  He offered HIMSELF as the eternal Sacrifice, the ONLY one who could truly make atonement for our sins.

Justice DEMANDS sacrifice, for Justice is nothing more than rendering to another what is due. As humanity in its fallen nature could not possibly pay the penalty for sin, God Himself became one of us in order to pay that ransom; it is here that we understand His Mercy, for we recognize that without Mercy, there is no Justice, and without Justice, there can be no Mercy.

Advent

Advent is a time of Justice and Mercy both.  It is a time to recall who we are in relation to God, and what we have done to offend Him that makes His Sacrifice necessary.  We cannot look at the Infant Jesus in the manger without recognizing that the same wood upon which He rested is the very same wood of the Cross of Sacrifice.  He was born to feed the world with His own flesh and blood, with His own Divinity, given first to the most lowly, and thirty-three years later, crucified in order to render Justice for sinners, for we cannot save ourselves.

We enter into Advent with an eye towards our final ends, for we cannot welcome God Incarnate without the recognition of the Justice to be rendered on our behalf.  We cannot look upon the Nativity without recognizing the Crucifixion. We cannot look upon the innocence of the Virgin and her Son without being accountable for our own guilt.

If we are honest with ourselves, we have NOTHING to offer the infant, for on our own, we have no merit.

Even if we offer ourselves, everything we have, everything we are, everything we have been and will ever be, we give this child a tainted gift for it is not within us to offer perfection. We NEED this child in order to BECOME perfected.

He, through His Mother, accepts what we offer in our poverty, and makes it, and us, glorious.

If only we are willing. If only we can become humble as He in His infancy. If only we can trust in His Mercy while knowing we deserve Justice, and as long as we understand that Justice would require OUR own lives.

We cannot look upon the Crucifix, then, without seeing Justice rendered, without knowing Mercy is applied, without knowing that Charity is about sacrifice...

Advent calls us to enter into this mystery, become a part of it, turn from sin, and know that the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us..in order to save us from our sins, rendering Justice on our behalf.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel...and ransom captive Israel....

Faults

I'm a complete ditz.

That actually used to be my reputation, back around my college years. Even before. No one ever called me "dumb" because they didn't think that; just a bit air-headed. And yes, I was. Some of that was just being young and running around looking at the world with stars in my eyes. We all did that to some degree, even if not in such a loud dramatic way.

I'll never forget my first review at the psych facility, where I worked with children and adolescents. I rarely saw my assigned Supervisor as I worked a different shift, and wondered how my first review would go. It was nerve-wracking, as this really was my first job. Yes, I'd been a lifeguard, and I'd taught after-school enrichment classes for elementary students, I'd worked a few years in a community-based child care and as a chaperone. But the psych facility...that actually MEANT something for my future.

So I went into the review, and sat down with Ruth. She had a file in front of her and went over some things, asked a few questions, and then was very candid. She told me that when I'd first started, she wasn't at ALL sure about me because...and here she hesitated...I seemed like such a ditz.

I remember cringing in my seat but striving to retain an impassive expression; she was right.

But then she said that she'd also seen my reports, the reports of other staff, and how I handled things on the unit, especially with regard to the frequent crises that happened. And she told me, "So whatever you're doing, but keep doing it...it works!"

And she also gave me the advice to be more "self-aware", which she didn't need to define; I too often let my temper show, and then, as now, I wore my heart on my sleeve.

Growing Up

Somehow, over time, I've become less and less of a ditz. At least...outwardly. One of my nicknames in high school and into college from someone who knew me well was "Giggles".

Yes, I'm quite embarassed by that. Of course THEY loved it and just adored the lovely color of red my face would turn when they called me by that name. But it was a term of endearment, even as it called out to one of my flaws.

How many of us have or had nicknames that arose out of not our perfections, but our flaws?

To this day, I still carry the traits that used to be obvious, but maturity has forced them into hiding. They haven't gone away; I'm still a ditz. I'm still clueless.

Back when I was in Law Enforcement, one of my FTO's observed that I did seem to have a gift of having sudden, complete, intense focus. But it took nothing at all to destroy that focus. One commented that my ability to focus like that could save someone's life one day (he tended to be the positive one).

And so, I can manage to be observant and not entirely oblivious ALL the time, but it's very easy for me to become distracted and lose focus. I can look directly at a situation and not see a problem, only to learn later on there was something OBVIOUS going on.

I can be completely in tears with empathy in one moment, and the next, entirely miss what's really going on.

Because of this flaw, I know I've unwittingly been rude to a lot of people. And I have to wonder; would I rather be thought of as rude, or a complete dimwit?

Beating Ourselves Up

All of us have our lost moments, without exception. We do stupid things, we get wrapped up in ourselves and miss what we're supposed to be seeing. We are maybe not feeling well so facts aren't penetrating our minds. There are a thousand things that can cause us to miss what is before our eyes. Or it could just be our flaws.

We tend to know our flaws, and when they come to our attention, usually through our own realization too late to make amends, we beat ourselves up. Or if we realize it in the moment, we end up destroying it by trying to backpeddle and re-do it. Sometimes it's best to just move on.

Usually the "offended" parties notice our faux pas and have already moved on, either because they know us and expect our flaws, or have decided it's nothing to worry about. People can see the difference between intent and oblivity.

So it happens that we are often long forgiven by the time we even realize we've been cause for offense.

The very fact that we are proleptically forgiven for being ourselves should be cause for humility, for we don't ever deserve such consideration. And yet, there it is.

We all have friends and family members we dearly love even as we see their faults in full relief. It's part of who they are and it's what makes them...well...them. It would be wonderful if some habits would go away, but because maybe that will never happen, we accept the little things and love others in spite of annoyances.

When we lose our loved ones, often what we remember and love most were the things that bothered us.

Maybe, when we are silently berating ourselves for minor offences, although we should learn and try not to repeat them, we should also try to keep them in perspective and understand what is a pea in a tower of quilts to us is nothing but a forgotten moment to others.

The Eyes of a Child...The Eyes of an Offender

I’ll never forget his eyes, how they hid in his teen face, still childlike, terrified, questioning, and in complete agony. His hands were shaking as he spoke, seeming to transfer the fear to his very voice, which also shook. He was a nervous kid, from my observation, and found it difficult to relate to anyone.

That evening I was assigned as his “One to One”, a Staff person assigned to a patient who was in need of extra supervision. He was a fairly new patient so we were on a locked unit. At the time, we were in his room, with the door open according to policy. Also according to policy, I could not be outside of an arm’s length from him. The only time he could be alone was in the bathroom. At the end of this conversation, a male staff would be assigned to him as he’d no longer be able to go into even the bathroom by himself.

Troy* had accepted my presence with docility, and seemed to be a nice kid. He was soft-spoken, with a willowy stature that promised to eventually make him a tall man. At the time, he was maybe 15, maybe a little younger. His pimpled face betrayed his adolescence, while his eyes seemed both very old and very young all at once. Although I’d been working there for a couple years and knew most of our patients had experienced agonies the average person couldn’t even imagine, I’d never seen such pain before. It was almost hypnotizing.

As he was a new patient, and given his mild manners, I wondered how the other patients would accept him. Troy didn’t seem strong enough to stand up for himself. Guaranteed he’d be bullied, and if he wasn’t, he’d be one taken in by the bullies and “converted” to their ways. He seemed ready to conform to whatever the place had to throw at him, just as a form of passive survival. Troy was a wounded creature, and I was about to find out just how wounded.

I knew some; he had been abused and he must be an abuser because he was not allowed off the unit or near the children’s ward. He was a risk to himself and to others, although they weren’t sure in what ways, exactly, which is why I (and other staff on other shifts were assigned to him.)

Troy asked to speak to me in his room, and acknowledged the need to have the door open. He also knew that whatever he told me would be reported; this boy knew the system. I was on my guard, but he did seem sincere. He was near tears and the shaking in his hands became more pronounced. But I told him he could speak to me and I would listen.

He sat at the foot of his bed. I sat on the other, which was not assigned to any other patient. Consistent with the rules, I was in sight of the doorway and within an arm’s reach; the building was constructed with this in mind. I had a radio on my hip, out of his immediate reach, and the other staff on the unit knew we were there. Yet they could not hear what was said, so Troy could speak as though in confidence even though he knew I’d be making a record.

Troy told me, haltingly, that he’d been abused…sexually. Severely. He didn’t get graphic, but the shame was evident. He had told this story before and knew that we were aware of it, so he didn’t need to provide details. He even verified that I knew and seemed to take comfort that I did; for that way, he didn’t have to reveal the worst details. But that’s not why he wanted to talk. He seemed to want to lift a weight from his shoulders and reveal who he really was. He told me how awful the abuse was, how it made him feel, and how it made him want to die. But as he got older, he found himself with other kids, and he started doing the same things, compelled to do so. He hated himself for doing it, and even more, wanted to die. He knew he was making those kids feel like he had felt and STILL felt.

He had nightmares of jumping through windows, of hanging himself, slitting his wrists…everything. And he wanted to follow through. He wanted to die. He’d rather die than ever abuse another kid. He wanted his compulsion to end. And he would kill himself if he got the chance. Troy didn’t want sympathy; he wanted to be condemned and he wanted to die as quickly as possible and felt he deserved it. He said he knew he didn’t deserve to be abused and neither did his victims.

He was just a kid…and when his eyes met mine, they were direct; he meant what he said, every word.

Torn

I didn’t say a word as he spoke. I wasn’t surprised by what I heard, although I was moved. I knew I was sympathizing with a sex offender, but he was a sex offender who was still a child. He was both adult and child in the same person, and all I could see was his humanity.

He wasn’t a danger to anyone at the moment; he was on a locked unit and he was there for help, admittedly help he didn’t want for he thought his help could be found on the edge of a razor or in the barrel of a loaded gun.

I thanked Troy for speaking with me and telling me what he was thinking. I asked him if he realized what I had to do; he did. He would not be allowed to go to the bathroom alone, he would have someone within an arm’s length for as long as the powers that be decided. But he said he was glad he had spoken. Troy went with me willingly to the supervisor’s office to obtain the orders necessary to protect him.

To this day, when I learn of sex offenders, I am torn. On one hand, I think they are vile, they are evil, they should not be suffered to live. There are too many horrifying stories of lives destroyed and of brutal murders. And I worked with so many victims of those offenders; children…just children. Then, I remember Troy, his dark eyes anguished, both adult and child, and I realize that EVERY sex offender was once a child, and they and Troy share the same eyes.

I can’t divorce the humanity of the offenders from their offense. I don’t sympathize with their crimes, only their humanity. They were children once, too. They were abused, they were terrified, they were alone and they were destroyed. It was their destruction that created monsters they became. But within those monsters, there are still children that were so wounded they could never overcome the injuries.

And yet...others suffer because of them. Excruciatingly. Lives are destroyed.

Of those offenders that are not violent in the bloody sense, their actions are still violent given what they do the heart and soul of another. Some of them hate themselves, and still, there is no treatment.

I remain torn when it comes to the issue of sex offenders. People need to be protected from them, and thus, they must be isolated from the ability to offend again. Yet, they are human beings, wounded souls more in need of mercy than many of us. Not all of them are psychopaths, and we pray that their victims don’t follow in their footsteps.

I believe in justice….strongly. In fact, I tend to align more with prosecution than with defense, if given a choice. When I considered going to Law School, I considered that if I pursued Criminal Law, which was the area of the greatest interest for me, I wanted to be a Prosecutor. What stopped me? I’d have to spend time working in Defense. I did not want to defend criminals.

Yet my very life brought me into the position of defending those who have committed the most heinous of crimes…this very post is an example.

I also believe in Mercy; for I have been the recipient of Mercy, over and over again. I still don’t deserve it. I have also been a victim of crime. Yet…there is no Justice without Mercy.

We all need to find the balance. We all need to be rational, look at facts, weigh them carefully…and then we have to be careful not to remove humanity from those facts. All of our judgments in life impact others.

Maybe I’m wrong in this philosophy. But whenever I think of justice and mercy, I remember Troy and realize that it’s only by God’s grace that I never went by the same route.

God have mercy on us all.
*




* Troy was a real boy but this is not his real name. Incidentally I don’t think I ever had a patient by that name.

DIVINE MERCY

Eternal Father, I offer You the Body and Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world!

Today is the Feast of Divine Mercy, and what a wonderful feast, indeed! But it's not a new feast...God has always been merciful. Last semester, I completed a synthetic study on God's Mercy in the Old Testament, and indeed learned that many of the actions taken by God revealed His mercy. So much so that I titled my paper, "God is Revealed Through His Mercy." Just a quick glimpse through a concordance indexes many passages: "The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger and quick to forgive..."

God has NEVER spurned a contrite heart; His wrath was for the unrepentant, and more often than not, the result of God's wrath was to let the consequences of the people's own sins overcome them. Yet if even ONE soul came to Him for forgiveness, God was merciful. And shockingly, the Father's greatest sign of love and mercy was personified in His only Son, Jesus Christ.

You expired, O Jesus, but the source of life gushed forth for souls and an ocean of mercy opened up for the whole world. O Fount of Life, unfathomable Divine Mercy, envelop the whole world and empty Yourself out upon us. O Blood and Water, which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fount of mercy for us, I trust in You. Amen

I had class all weekend, so this evening I'm relaxing, letting my mind forget the debacle that was my test this morning, trying to absorb everything I learned since Friday night. And I'm surfing a little.

You may be interested in visiting Fr. Schnippel's blog, for he has a great number of wonderful, insightful posts from the last couple weeks. And today's post inspired this one. He addresses the backsliding that occurrs after a spiritual experience.

There is a natural tendency after going through a traumatic experience to slide back into an old way of life, especially experiences of a profound conversion, a profound spiritual encounter; if it does not ‘take hold’ so to speak, we can find ourselves very easily backsliding into our old way of life, our old existence, and nothing really is changed from before.

(Read the rest...)

In reading that, it made me realize that there's a few ways to consider that backsliding, and something that we all need to look at. Because, let's face it; we all backslide. Every single one of us. If we didn't, there would be no need for Confession. We'd never committ mortal sin. Our veniel sins would become fewer and fewer. And it could be that for you, this is true. But for the vast majority of us, we go to Confession and we NEED to be there either because we're on that backsliding path, that path that is all-too-worn, the path that reveals our high-traffic and rapid slippage down the slope towards the unmentionable place. (Hint: I'm talking about Hell)

The Sacraments are our only handholds. When we've fallen, we can't get up on our own, but we sure can yell...and that's where God's mercy comes in. All we have to do is ask, and His Grace gets us to Confession. We still have to climb up far enough to reach that handhold, but it's one that will never drop us.

When I returned to my faith...REALLY returned, I had great difficulty with Confession. I would cry, I'd shake, I'd go, expecting to be yelled at, although that's never ONCE happened to me. My first Confession after 12 years was incredible and remains one of my most wonderful memories. But it was another 3 years before I was able to go again; I was terrified.

I had this crazy idea that I had to perfect myself. I was still not living a good life, and although I had confessed to the priest at the big confession that I didn't believe I had a firm purpose of amendment because I KNEW I would committ the same sins again and again, he explained that THIS is why we have the sacrament. THIS is why we need God's Mercy, and why He is so willing to offer it.

And as I've heard more than one priest say to the concern that we tend to confess the same sins over and over: "GOOD! YOU'RE NOT INVENTING NEW SINS!"

But I wasn't understanding God's mercy; my concept of the sacrament was, at the time, more legalistic. I had to go to Confession, I believed that my sins were forgiven, however I put so much pressure on myself to suddenly become perfected. It was up to me. I had to have the will to be perfectly good, from that point on.

WRONG! Yes, we are to desire to change, sincerely, (that's what it means to have a "firm purpose of amendment"), but we have to realize that we can't change ourselves. We need God's grace. We need His help, and our firm purpose of amendment means, really, that we're going to cooperate with God's grace and truly intend not to committ the same sins again. And if we do? We keep going back to Jesus, over and over again, and when we do this, we begin to see patterns.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It took me three years to go to Confession again, and it was my fear that kept me away; my idea that I had to rely on myself, my own will to avoid sin. My fear that I would be yelled at. I think this latter idea came from my home, growing up. My Mom was bipolar and I was literally screamed at for everything. Especially when I'd done something wrong. Even when I was doing something right, there was a good chance Mom would be displeased and glass might shatter at any moment.

So I would shake, I'd stand in line weeping, terrified. That three year confession was just as hard as the twelve year because I built it up so much to be what it was not. While my Big confession was face to face, this time I went behind the screen. And I was just out of control. I couldn't get a single word out. On that occasion, Father (an elderly priest whom I've come to know well since) was a bit gruff with me, but his gruffness helped me to speak and get my emotions under control. He never raised his voice. He was very matter-of-fact. He held me responsible for my sins, and I was ready for that. He did chastize me, but in a way that really checked my contrition; did I mean what I said? I'd confessed some pretty big things. It was in fact much like the renewal of Baptismal vows but more applicable to my specific sins: Do you reject Satan? I do. Do you reject... and on down the line.

I left much calmer, still in tears, feeling very chastized, but also very liberated. I was born again, and I really MEANT my contrition and my penance.

Mercy.

On that day, I realized that my fears were groundless, but I needed to begin to go to Confession frequently. So it was that I began to go every month, or even more often. Sometimes it was days. Over time, I stopped shaking, I stopped crying at the very thought of the sacrament, and I learned to accept God's mercy. Although I'll admit that sometimes this is a challenge; because it seems too easy.

Yet it's not in the Sacrament of Confession that the Lord challenges us the most; it's in the Eucharist, it's in our daily lives. He is most gentle with us when we admit our sins and our failings, for He wants to encourage our humility and our willingness to trust Him and come to Him for healing and forgiveness. Our Lord's heart is warmed with Divine Love and Compassion when we so willingly come to him.

It is when we sin and flee Him that we hurt Him the most. It is when we sin and refuse to look upon his wounds, the very wounds that restore us, that He is most pained, and His pain is on our behalf. Because by fleeing, or refusing to repent, we are denying His wounds and the reasons for them.

So it has been that I have gotten used to frequent Confessions, and I've begun to see patterns of behavior, patterns of sin, all the time. During Lent, or maybe just before, I realized that every time God blesses me in some major way, I backslide. I fall into sin or into an old pattern of behavior, and that sin leads me to Confession, all too often by necessity versus devotion. And even after I recognized that pattern, it continued to happen. Over and over again, I'd be in the chapel, praying, making my examination of conscience before Confession, and berating myself for offending God so much after He had just been so good to me.

In prayer, a few things have come to me with regard to this pattern and the sins themselves, but the biggest revelation was God's mercy; why we need to accept it. We have to learn to see ourselves, honestly, through God's eyes. St. Paul stated (in Romans, I think) that he does what he does not want to do; it's a battle of the flesh and the spirit. We are all in that battle as we truly seek God, but give in to our fallen natures, doing what we really don't want to do, falling. But we have to get up and keep going, because even if we don't know why we continue in this pattern, God does, and He saw the pattern long before we did. His response is not condemnation; it is a response of compassion. He does not excuse our sin, but rather, holds us accountable but is willing to forgive us as many times as we fall. Because as long as we're willing to admit that we can't stand on our own, and that we have offended Him, He will take us back, over and over.

It's not about falling; it's about trying, or repenting and converting, even if it's the same thing for 50 years. God knows our weaknesses, and He Himself bore them on his Cross. The Father sees us all through the wounds of Christ, through the holes in His hands and feet, through the blood and water gushing from His side.

God requires only one thing of us; willingness to admit that we are wrong and come to Him with our soggy, muddy souls. He knows that He will clean us up and send us toddling away encompassed in Divine Love...and tomorrow we'll be even muddier and soggier than we were today. And that we'll get up again and come to Him, crying, and He'll wipe away our tears, clean us up again, and send us back out into the world. Proud of us. Because we belong to Him, we know who He is, and that no matter what we do, He will be there. And eventually, maybe, we'll be able to go a little further before we have to come back to be healed.

Jesus, I trust in thee!

Justice and Mercy

One of the best movies ever made must be "The Gods Must Be Crazy".Have you ever seen it?

I haven't seen this movie in a couple of years, but even now, sitting in my livingroom, I remember that my Dad introduced my brother and I to it. And I can still hear him laughing. And I'm still laughing, too. But now, there's a new element...theology.

First we meet the little Bushman and his family, and their idyllic life. They have no technology, thus live only according to the law of nature; because there is nothing else to disrupt that. It is the introduction of technology, in the form of an empty coke bottle, that throws their lives into an uproar, and, in theological terms, reveals the reality of original sin. Human nature, being what it is, turns their world nasty in a hurry when there is something to cause division.

So he goes off on a quest to rid his family of the "evil thing" that has brought such strife to their little society.

Next we meet the young woman who is sick of technology and just looking for a little simplicity. She was raised in a sterile concrete world, far from the earthy reality that she is seeking. That leads her to Botswana to become a teacher. You must ask...is that a GOOD idea?

And we meet the Biologist and his buddy, the Mechanic. The biologist, working on his PhD thesis, is quite intelligent and well spoken...until he is in the presence of a lady. And the mechanic...well, he is the trash-talking guy who would be comedy relief, but ends up being an anchor in a world suddenly turned ridiculous.

Have I mentioned that I love this movie? I love how the little Bushman approaches the world with unwavering logic, and suffers as a result of his matter-of-fact perspective. My budding theological mind has suddenly grasped a concept of justice and mercy which has, previous to this, gone unrecognized.

Those of you who have seen this movie will remember the following part: the Bushman, on his great quest to rid himself and his family of the Evil Thing, comes across a herd of goats. He's never seen goats before, but they look tasty enough, so he goes about the process of catching his dinner. It's the most natural thing in the world!

The shepherd boy shouts at him in an untelligible language much like monkeys or squirrels. So the Bushman simply waves, smiles, and tells him he will share the feast with him. After all...he can't eat it all and his way of life would dictate that he share his repast even with those he does not understand. It's all very simple. His is a very generous and hospitable soul, and he knows nothing but humility. I can tell you that, if I was greeted in this manner, even if I didn't understand what he was saying, I'd be drawn into sitting at his fire. The Bushman just exudes such a spirit of welcoming, even in the face of what is considered to be an illegal act; and it is his very innocence that causes the juxtaposition between it and a crime of civilization.

Instead, the shepherd boy is very rude and runs (bikes, actually) away, and gets the police. The Bushman is building a fire when the police arrive with the boy, and since there are more guests, he welcomes them, smiling, not moving. According to the natural law to which he is accustomed, he is doing nothing wrong. So it makes no sense to him when the cop picks up the goat and throws it on top of the truck; the Bushman thinks that the man is very rude and greedy. So he takes the next logical step...and tells them that now he will have to shoot another goat so that he can eat. He sees no conflict with having to hunt again so that he can eat; he's only shocked at the rudeness of what he sees as he guests.

Well, for his logic, he is shot and imprisoned, and can't eat. He's extremely compliant, polite, and docile to what is happening to him. His innocence is so excruciating!

And in the scene where he sat in his cell, staring out the window, I cried to myself, "This isn't justice!"

The bumbling biologist and the trash-talking mechanic (who speaks the bush language, which is a series of clicks), agree. This is not justice. This little guy is going to die in such captivity. It is contrary to his dignity as a human being. He was not created to sit in prison, and really, has committed no crime. Not according to natural law. Not according to his understanding of the world. This is a very law-abiding citizen of the world, if he only knew the rules.

Now enter the theology...that's exactly how God sees us. There are those who are given a great deal, and with that gift comes amazing responsiblity, and understanding, and, unfortunately, tendency to pride. Then we have those who have been given little, but in their smallness and their poverty, they are so wealthy! This is the Bushman and his family. Their simplicity is, in actuality, great wealth!

From the Christian perspective, certainly, the Bushman is a pagan. After all...he is talking about gods and giving an evil thing back to them! Yet, he and his family are living according to a very natural, peaceful law, which does not interject themselves between they and God. There is no contraception. There are no tools. There is no technology, and no need for a president or political system. It is them in their corner of the world, not even knowing that other people exist. In the movie, the Bushman's first meeting with other people makes him think they are gods.


It is the "civilized" world that brings such a man to a jury trial and sentences him to what is equal to or worse than death. When taking his experience and understanding into perspective, is it proper to sentence such a person according to laws written for "civilization"?

NO!

This is how God sees all of us! We are held responsible for that which we understand and which has been taught to us. If a pagan bushman who lived a life according to what we see as Christian principles, but devoid of the name of Jesus (for lack of knowing who He is) dies, would God truly reject him from His divine presence? Is that justice? No! That is not justice. As the words of Our Lord indicate, if, we, who are sinful, know what to give our own children, does God not know what to give us?

So, if we, as sinners, can recognize such injustice, can we not understand that God has a much greater understanding than we do? If we can see that injustice exists in this situation here on earth, how does that influence how we understand the judgment God subjects all of humanity to at the time of our death?

I believe that pagan bushmen will enter Heaven before people like you and I will. Jesus himself said this very thing.

Justice takes circumstances into account. Justice cannot exist devoid of Mercy, and Jesus Himself has taught us this. God Himself revealed this to us through the Old Testament....for all those out there crying for "Justice", if they were faced with Justice devoid of Mercy, they'd be crying ONLY for Mercy. True Mercy cannot exist without Justice, and Justice cannot exist without Mercy.

And neither exists without Reason.

Reason was not applied in the case of the goat-killing bushman. Thus, there was neither Justice or Mercy.

This movie is a great one for philosophical and theological minds. I'd love to watch this movie with a Biblical Anthropologist, a Theologian, and a Philosopher. I'd supply the wine and cheese (or pizza and beer, etc.) just to sit on the side, listen, and take notes!

I'd also love to watch it with someone versed in Theology of the Body. Take the prissy teacher (Kate), for example. On one hand, while she's understandably (and quite wisely) on guard, at the same time, she also seems to be terrified of dirt and willing to accept the role of "damsel in distress" even in the presence of the man she considers to be a threat. (The bumbling biologist). And when he trips and throws her into the water, while she still tries to hang on to this model, she rapidly realizes that it's better just to realize she's suddenly become a part of an unplanned wet t-shirt contest that no one is watching, sucks it up and, with great irritation, gets on with the business of surviving in the African bush.

The poor bumbling biologist is actually the nice guy, a very unlikely hero, and has the UTMOST respect for women. Such that, when he is called to literally rescue the lady, he is faced with his worst fears...actual contact with her! And he has to save her from a plant which has no regard for her modesty. Which leads him to have to assist her out of the "fallen" (in the biblical sense) plant. Even though she is in only her underwear, she demands that he "not look", so he finds that he has to resolve her problem through glances at where the plant has caught her, while avoiding actually gazing upon her. His embarassement is palpable. And as a woman, I can say that HER embarassment is palpable also to me.

To add to the plot, she thinks he has previously come on to her in a major way, likely feels she is at risk of being raped. And this poor guy doesn't even want to be there! He has no interest in doing anything but showing the lady respect...and he does anything but. Because he is a klutz surrounded by weird circumstances.

I could go on, but suspect that in the last few days, I have bored my regular readers. And I further suspect I'm boring you all now. If you're still reading, that is.

But I REALLY hope I have not bored you all out of watching this movie. These days there aren't a lot of movies rellly worth watching. But this one is worth it. It's a good clean movie with lots of topics for discussion, no matter what your viewpoint or affiliation.

Maybe I should watch it again in a year and see how else it could be theologized?

NAH! Sometimes a good movie is just a good movie.

"The Gods Must Be Crazy", though...that one's great for simple entertainment AND intellectual discussions.

Anyone...your thoughts on this movie?