THE SWING SHIFT

The Skeptic

2011-10-12T01:09:00.006-05:00

We don't know much about Heaven. Although we can draw on Christian revelation to acknowledge some basic facts about the place—for instance, that it is eternal and supremely fulfilling, and that it involves perfect fellowship with God—our religion is rather vague when it comes to details. I'm not just talking about the color of Heaven's wallpaper, of course, but more prickly questions like who gets in and what they have to do before they get there (yes, there's a doctrine of Purgatory, which is sort of like a training room for Heaven, but what can we say about Purgatory other than that it exists?), and—perhaps most interestingly—what happens the moment we die. Where do we go? How does it feel? These are questions whose answers do not lie on earth, and about which we can only speculate while we dwell here. What follows is just such a speculation. Join me if you will as we begin our story, on a train...

A Catholic, an Evangelical, and an atheist were riding together (this is not a joke, I promise!). Upon seeing the atheist, who was wearing a shirt that said "God is not great," the Evangelical leaned over to the Catholic and said, "He will not see Heaven. He is not saved." The Catholic answered, "I do not know."

The next moment, the train crashed, and all three men died.

Suddenly they stood in a long line of people. Jesus stood in front of the line, speaking to each person for a brief moment before sending them to his left or to his right.

When the atheist came to Jesus, he was asked, "Who do you say that I am?" The atheist, visibly struck by his experience and by the Lord's loving gaze, fell prostrate and cried, "My Lord and my God!" The Lord immediately welcomed him to Paradise.

When the Catholic stepped forward, Jesus asked, "What do you want me to do for you?" The Catholic genuflected and said, "O Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!" Jesus answered, "Your sins are forgiven," and welcomed him into Paradise.

Finally, the Evangelical came forward. Jesus asked him, "Where are you going?" After a momentary pause, the Evangelical's quiet response was, "I don't know." Instantly the Lord embraced him and led him into Paradise.

THE END.

Holy Hill

2011-10-10T02:42:00.012-05:00

Today my family and I made our first pilgrimage—excluding our annual trek to the Thanksgiving table, of course. We visited the National Shrine of Mary, Help of Christians, situated atop lofty Holy Hill in Wisconsin. The site is considered by many to be a place of miraculous healings, and a collection of crutches, canes, and leg-braces—abandoned by the recipients of such divine help—attest to the fact. It is certainly a special place, endowed with what seems to us a more direct access to the Almighty.

Today, it was also a bustling place. Crowds flocked to Holy Hill to partake not only of its religious offerings, but also its beautiful autumn colors. For my family, a myriad of adventures contributed to the day’s fullness, and describing any one of them could conceivably take up a sizeable chunk of eternity. However, one aspect of the trip returned to my mind’s eye late in the day, and so—with sincere apologies to the arresting vistas, the dazzling Church positively charged with grace, and the mini-miracle of the vitalizing holy water—I zoom in on one moment of today’s events, which occurred rather early in the itinerary.

We were making the arduous journey up the main hill, climbing uneven wood-framed steps to ascend to the Church’s entrance for 12:30 Mass. I noticed a man on his way down whose build seemed to tell the story of a once-active individual, unfortunately shackled now by an injured leg. With his knee wrapped in some sort of brace, he struggled to limp down the stairs, attended by his wife. At the sight of him a gray cloud of pity and sadness temporarily arose in my thoughts, in spite of the sunny blue skies surrounding us. Had this pilgrim come hoping for a miracle? If so, I sadly reflected, he was now descending the mountain, heading home in the same condition he had arrived. There was no miracle here for him. I turned back to look at him after he had passed by, wished him a silent blessing, and continued on my way.

A little reflection, if performed in the right spirit, can go a long way in dispelling unwelcome gloom. And the maxim stands admirably in this case. Miracles are wonderful occurrences, but they are not guaranteed rewards for belief. Jesus himself acknowledged the hard truth that miracles do not always come when expected: “There were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian” (Luke 4:27). Nor are miracles litmus tests for God’s power—or His love. A faith that could be shattered by the lack of a miracle could be shattered by many other things as well—and strictly speaking, could not be called faith if it relied on the evidence a miracle would provide. But most importantly, miracles come in all shapes and sizes. Even Holy Hill’s website points out that “some healings are gradual while others are dramatic and instant.” I saw that man limping down the steps of Holy Hill at 12:15 today. I did not see him climb into his car. I did not see him eating dinner. I will not see him ten or twenty years from now. But God will, and who can imagine what He might have planned for this man? Remember, we’re talking about the Person Who invented snow. God is the source and summit of creativity.

We humans have a pesky habit of seeing life solely in terms of our extremely limited perspective. That was my failure when I faced that man and thought about his condition. The same failure might attend someone upon hearing about Holy Hill’s unfortunate defacement in 2006. It seems that, moved with the zeal that only the calendar can inspire, a couple of lost souls vandalized Holy Hill’s main Church on June 6, 2006 (aren’t they clever?) with profane graffiti. Of course this is sad news, and rightfully evokes a range of emotions on the part of believers. That said, the one emotion that it should not evoke is fear. Although it might seem natural to shudder at such demonstrations of stark and burning evil, it is actually quite unnatural to fear it. C.S. Lewis has a helpful (and rather hilarious) insight for us here: “A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.” The same could be said for the walls of a church.

What threat do a handful of anti-social youths pose to the Catholic Church? For that matter, what threat would a vast army of Satan’s followers pose? Even if Catholicism represented a tiny minority within a world of demonic enemies, it would be no less safe, no less serene, than it is right now and always has been. As Simon and Garfunkel so eloquently testified in a rather obscure song, “You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free.” We are people of God, and our hope comes not from the physical well-being of ourselves or our most treasured places and objects, but from the unshakeable, irresistible, unavoidable presence of God, Who created us, lovingly sustains us at every moment, and has promised salvation to all who believe in Him and act accordingly. The desecration (or even destruction, God forbid) of a church does not even graze the supernatural surface of the Church. That is God’s property, upon which no man or spirit may malevolently trespass.

As I said, we tend to see life from limited perspectives. Thankfully, our faith has a way of reminding us that life is so much bigger, so much better, than our fallen natures and tragic experiences lead us to believe. Christianity, though it comes to us in physical forms like Sacraments and miracles, speaks of a truth that lies beyond our world. So even if that man’s leg never heals in this life, he will still be able to meet God in prayer, receive Him in the Eucharist, and thank Him for the blessings gratuitously bestowed with each dawning day. And so can we.

May the blessings of God reach you wherever you are today, and may you happily accept them.

Sincerely,
Joezilla

Does God Disappoint Us?

2011-09-03T23:36:00.003-05:00

A loving God would not place desires in our hearts, and dreams in our souls, if He did not also offer us opportunities to fulfill them, or offer opportunities for greater things, thereby surpassing the dreams we began with.

I have spoken to many people who worry that they will never see their dreams fulfilled. I offer in response a word of encouragement and a word of caution.

To encourage, I say that God knows your heart, and will not sneak opportunities past you. When the time comes for a choice that will decide your destiny,—and don’t kid yourself that such choices come only rarely—God will make the time to act clear, and He thus will pass control of your life into your hands…provided your eyes are open and you are ready to act boldly. And here is where the word of caution comes in.

We are not put on this earth to be made happy by God. God wants us to be happy, yes, but happiness is merely the result—not the goal—of our mission: growing closer to God, becoming holy, cultivating spirits strong and passionate, but also light and loving. And if we do not devote ourselves—at least as best as we are able—to these pursuits, all the promises necessitated by God’s loving nature are not as clearly guaranteed; this is not because He would refuse to offer opportunities for fulfillment to any of His children,—He will always offer them—but because if we are not prepared to face our destinies when they approach, we may not recognize them, or find ourselves too fearful to respond properly.

But if we are always working toward self-improvement with God’s help, then we just have to be patient, and continue to live in hope.

Hopefully,
Joezilla

I Have A Confession To Make

2011-06-15T02:27:00.002-05:00

“I couldn’t accept it in theory, but it made sense in practice.” This was the statement I found myself making in a conversation with one of my closest friends about the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

We’re both devout Catholics who have always gladly partaken of the Sacraments applicable to our stage in life, but we have, admittedly, also shared some reservations about Reconciliation. This didn’t stop us from participating in it, but certain problems have tended to pop up in our conversations about it. The quote printed at the top of this post reveals the epiphany I am slowly enjoying regarding the Sacrament: I am now realizing how important regular Reconciliation is to a committed Catholic life. As I feel particularly inspired tonight, I would like to address the two chief concerns that have sometimes weathered away confidence in the Sacrament.

The first is the fact that Reconciliation consists partly of confessing one’s sins to another human being—imperfect, subjective, and susceptible to sin. Confidentiality might worry some, but I can assure anyone plagued by such worries that it is a truly confidential affair. Every priest I have ever heard speak about hearing confession has testified that it is a humbling privilege, and that they can feel the Holy Spirit working through them in their ability to listen, to speak words of comfort or advice, and to assign an appropriate penance. They also value the Seal of Confession—the priestly duty to keep penitents’ sins completely confidential—as highly as anything else in their profession. In short, they take Reconciliation seriously.

But this is not the issue that bothered us. The real problem with confessing to another man, one might argue, is that the action is ultimately just that—confession to another human soul. Why the need for an intermediary? Well, simply put, Reconciliation is a Sacrament, and like any other Sacrament, its administration requires someone who has been endowed with the authority and power to do so. Just as the consecration of the Eucharist requires an ordained priest, so Reconciliation requires a priestly intermediary.

You could, if you so choose, picture the priest’s authority and power as a sort of special machine that only he possesses. If someone who doesn’t have the machine—i.e. is not ordained—attempts to perform a priestly function, said function will have no certain effect. On the other hand, our faith tells us—with the same assurance that it tells us everything else—that a priest’s Sacramental actions are real—real in the highest sense, which is the supernatural sense. If I enter the confessional with my aunt Sally and proceed to confess my deepest sins to her, she can listen and offer advice and even suggest what I might do to fix my broken relationship with God—but she cannot offer the guarantee of complete and total forgiveness, by the power of Christ and in the name of the Catholic Church, that an ordained priest could and would offer. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that she will keep it silent.

Finally, strictly speaking, the priest is not the one who is forgiving you—he is acting in persona Christi, in the person of Christ. Jesus Christ is present in every confessional booth, listening to your sins, leading you back to him, and loving you fully all the while.

This leads to the next potentially questionable aspect of Reconciliation. Simply put, Jesus died on the cross, and through his passion and death he bore the weight of all of our sins—which were forgiven through his unfathomable act of sacrifice and atonement. Why, then, do we need to go and get forgiven again? Doesn’t Jesus love us anyway?

Well, to answer the last question right away, yes—Jesus loves us no matter what. St. Paul made this clear when he asserted that “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” in his letter to the Romans. Given this, why do we say that someone might not get to Heaven if they die without having confessed their sins?

In order to answer this question, we need to briefly talk about what Hell really means in Catholic theology. Of course, volumes and volumes could be written about this subject, but in a nutshell Hell is complete and eternal separation from God, brought on by—and this is the important part—our refusal to accept His love. The only way we can get to Hell is by saying no to God and slamming the door in His amazing face. God’s will for us is clear: He wants us to be united with Him, each person remaining unique but joined with Him and with one another in an unshakeable bond of intimate love unlike anything on Earth. In order to be united with God, Who is perfect, we must first be made perfect. Jesus gave us the Sacraments to help bring us closer to this goal before we complete the job in Purgatory.

That said, it becomes clear that Reconciliation is not the act of God listening, evaluating our penitence, and reluctantly saying, “Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I forgive you!” No—God doesn’t change. He’s perfect and He’s outside of time. No change there. Reconciliation is in fact about us, and how we change in the presence of God and His amazing love. This is not to say that a supernatural sort of transaction has not taken place, of course. On the contrary, God actually does wipe our slate clean when we are absolved. Our sins are forgiven, as the priest tells us after we are absolved. But God’s will has not changed, only our relationship with Him, and our ability to relate to Him once again. The disunion is mended. We are no longer standing in our own way, tripping ourselves as we try to walk toward God.

Jesus’ suffering and death did pay for all our sins. The New Testament testifies to this truth as much as it testifies to any other. However, like the debris accumulated in an air filter, sin has had an effect on us, and we need the Sacrament of Reconciliation to be wiped clean. It’s not about having God erase the checkmarks by your name on the heavenly report card; on the contrary, it’s about God making you ready to come closer to Him again. When we have consciously committed a sin we cannot get as close to God, because sin is separation from God. We cannot choose closeness and separation and expect to achieve either one. If we try, our spiritual life becomes superficial, dishonest, and dull. And under those conditions, we’re shooting ourselves in the foot before we start walking.

I like to call it Reconciliation. This is a more complete name for the Sacrament than “confession,” which forgets to include the whole absolution part—which is, needless to say, kind of important! Yes, I’m finally coming around on Reconciliation. I hope that this post will help you do the same, dear readers.

Authentically,
Joezilla

Here Comes Trouble...?

2011-01-27T17:16:00.003-06:00

Why are troublemakers held in such high esteem? Not everyone does this, of course, but there is an unmistakable regard already conferred upon troublemakers by middle school which continues on up through all levels of education. Why is the kid who talks back to the teacher given special esteem by so many of his peers? Why is the football player who wields the towel-whip in the locker room worshipped by girls and deferred to by guys? Why does the hung-over frat boy, unshowered and uncombed, command any following at all—much less the rapt attention of the long-haired sorority-sisters in the back rows of Econ class?

These are not the frustrated ventings of a repressed social underling, I assure you. I thankfully was taught early in life that the best way to strike out against absurd social precedents (like the one in question) is to act as if they don't exist. Conflict will arise, of course—and that's when things get really exciting.

No, this reflection is merely based on a fundamental contradiction I sense in the idea of considering troublemakers "cool." When something is cool, we want to be a part of it. It is attractive. It appeals to us. Normally, for something to be appealing, there must be a high degree of mastery in some skill or art. Virtuosos are cool. If we see Yo-Yo Ma perform a demanding technical piece on the cello or John Mayer nail a mind-boggling guitar solo, we say "Cool!" Likewise, savvy people are cool. Think of the coolest person you know. Chances are they're good with words, in a down-to-earth sort of way. They know how to interact well. They understand the rules, and they work well within them.

Are you starting to see the contradiction? We usually respect and admire people who are good at things, who understand how to work within the rules of some discipline (be it music, juggling, conversation, or anything else) in order to produce something extraordinary.

But for troublemakers, it is the exact opposite situation. People who get in trouble don't understand the rules. They aren't savvy. They fail to recognize limits. It is no surprise that, when I consider the most audacious troublemakers of my own generation and experience, the ones who bucked authority even beyond the traditional precedents (and were esteemed by peers all the more for it), four of them are no longer alive. Troublemakers don't respect limits because they don't understand them. As opposed to the heightened sensitivities of the masters, troublemakers display a marked lack of a certain kind of sense. Tragically, this can be the death of them.

Of course, there are exceptions to this. In the face of an evil authority or an unjust rule, trouble must be made, and confidently—regardless of the outcome. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified on the grounds that he was a troublemaker, but he displayed a sensitivity the likes of which the world has not seen since. If telling people to honor God, stop sinning, and love one another is trouble, then count me in—and I'll bring the spitballs.

But that is a completely different situation. The modern bad boys are neither calling others to live better lives nor sacrificing themselves for ultimate causes. They're merely coasting through life—ignoring standards and risking their own necks in the process. Why does anyone pay any attention to them? More importantly for us, what can we do to combat this sorry tendency?

Christmas, The Bishop's Wife, and True Service

2010-12-24T02:30:00.009-06:00

Hello there, and Merrrrrrry Christmas!

o<(:})>

In case you were wondering, dear reader (if, in fact, there is any dear reader out there to be wondering), the seemingly unintelligible jumble of symbols above is my patented new Santa Smiley (all rights reserved, of course!). If you're puzzled by this moniker, look at it sideways and everything will make sense. Ho-ho-ho!

Today I just watched the wonderful Christmas film The Bishop's Wife, starring Cary Grant, David Niven, and Loretta Young. It's a wonderful movie that could be best characterized with a single word: charm. The actors are charmingly entertaining—funny when they're supposed to be funny, touching when they're supposed to be touching, and at all times quite convincing in the clever little plot the movie relates.

It is a great film from a great era of film-making, but this is not what puts it over the top. On the contrary, the greatest charm of this movie comes in its superb and enlivening message.

I firmly contend that the best entertainment is the kind that makes us want to be better people. The best book is the book that, upon its finishing, causes the reader to throw it to the ground, jump up in a fit of ecstasy, and embark on some great adventure that will somehow better the world. The best song is that which grants its listeners a supernatural sort of energy upon hearing it or even thinking of it, the kind of song that galvanizes the dazed denizens of the doldrums (we've all been there) and renders them ready for righteous battle on some unknown front in the war of their own life. And the best movie is the kind that gives us a larger view of life—one that, by means of its broadness and great perspective, provides us with creative new solutions to old problems...as well as the hope and inspiration to carry out such ambitious endeavors.

The Bishop's Wife is just such a movie. Its headlining actor, Cary Grant, plays the role of the angel Dudley (what a great name for an angel!) with a paradoxical mix of vivacity and restraint—two typically contrasting traits effectively united by a peaceful air of sheer goodness—showing us a character who has an overwhelmingly positive effect on everyone he encounters. We can't help but be won over by Dudley as we see him in action, spreading faith and honesty with every word he utters and every move he makes. And there's a part of each one of us that longs to be like him—to be connected to God with such a firm bond as to walk each day with supreme confidence as we do good work.

Of course, there is more to this movie than merely an inspiring character (which is easily enough to carry a movie on its own—see Jimmy Stewart's Harvey if you need some convincing). The greatest message of the movie arrives in its final scene, as David Niven's Bishop Henry delivers one of the most poignant, effective, and spot-on Christmas messages Hollywood has ever produced. Here it is, in its entirety:

Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking.

Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry, a blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, and with gifts.

But especially with gifts. You give me a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe. We forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled—all, that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the Child born in a manger. It's His birthday we're celebrating. Don't let us ever forget that.

Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most. And then, let each put in his share: loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched-out hand of tolerance. All the shining gifts that make peace on earth.

What we see here is a call to action, in the greatest of spirits. It is a call to service, but not the kind of service we typically think of. The sermon does not explicitly tell us to go to Africa and feed the starving children (although many do, and render the world a great gift in doing so). It does not exhort us to go and build homes for disaster victims (although many do, and can joyfully make an irreplaceable difference in the life of a fellow human being in doing so). It does not command us to spend our every moment engaged in feeding the hungy at soup kitchens (although many do, and help provide a chance at success to countless souls in doing so). No, the sermon does not call us to anything that the world would call "great." It calls us to a different kind of service, a more fundamental one that can begin anywhere and continue into eternity—and, if put into practice, will change the world in a truer way than any work of human hands ever could.

This type of service begins in the heart, and consists of one simple step: Conduct yourself with love. Love for God, love for other people, and love for yourself. Mother Teresa summed it up quite well when she told us to Do small things with great love. If we conduct ourselves with love, then we will always produce good fruit in the world. Love the people you have contact with. Have faith that God made them and put them in your life for you to love them, as He Himself loves them. Love the places you frequent, the vehicle that transports you, the work that sustains your life. Love your church and your God, and don't ever forget to love yourself. If you find yourself looking in the mirror and finding that there isn't much to love, do two things:

1. Realize that as a creation of God, you are fundamentally worthy of love, no matter how bad a person you have been. St. Paul wasn't lying when he said that Nothing can separate us from the love of God. You deserve to be loved by yourself, because you are already loved by God—no matter what! Right the wrongs and move forward in confidence.

2. If there are flaws in your character that seem unlovable, change them! Resolve to change them, out of love for Him Who created you, out of love for those who must deal with your flaws, and out of love for you, who deserve to enjoy a higher, more successful existence. Choose to be dynamic.

"Conduct yourself with love." Of course, this is not a new message. Certainly it appears countless times in the New Testament. But seeing a movie like The Bishop's Wife is a great modern wrapping of this timeless message, a message that seems all too forgotten in the world.

This Christmas, and all the time, I commit myself to doing this kind of service as much as my fractured human awareness permits me—and I hope that you will do the same, dear reader.

I would like to invite you to join me in renewing a little Yuletide tradition that I previously kept in my personal journal, but sadly neglected to continue last year. The tradition, which I'm glad to have you aboard for, is that of writing and reading a prayer at Christmastime. Regardless of whether or not you are "a praying man," to quote George Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life (it's a wonderful movie), I invite you to read through this. If you believe in God, then you know that praying this will do good things for the world. If you don't believe, then what's the harm in saying a few words? It would mean a lot to me. Here, let's begin:

Dear Father in Heaven,

On behalf of humanity, thanks for the awesome Christmas present! You came to us as a man, entering this world by the same way that all of us enter, coming as a baby. In the beautiful birth of that baby, You were and are the greatest Christmas present of all. Help us to realize that. Help us to listen deeply to the carols that tell of your birth, and grant us insight into what your coming really means for all of us and for our salvation.

We pray that you will not let us forget the small changes of mind and heart and hand that can make the world's difference for the person next to us—the smiles on our lips, the warmth in our tone of voice, and the fire of love in our hearts. May Your spirit ignite and rekindle that fire in our hearts, and may we be open to this nourishing flow that connects our human hearts with Your sacred heart.

And may we never forget the sacrifices of those who make us happy at Christmas and throughout the year—sacrifices that imitate the ultimate sacrifice you made for us up on Calvary hill. That was the final act of the life that began on the first Christmas night. Let us not forget that, either.

But most of all let us not forget that the life that began on that first Christmas still continues to this day—and the jolliest Christmas spirit is merely a reflection of that original Gift, the Gift Who changed the world. Let our faith in You nurture a servant's heart in all of us, that we may serve the world each in our own way, and help our fellow humans to have a Merry Christmas and the Happiest of New Years!

We ask all of this in Your name, Jesus.

AMEN.

Merry Christmas, and here's to the best New Year yet!

With Christmas Love,

Joezilla

Open Happiness

2010-12-09T01:36:00.002-06:00

Has your joy ever been stifled by someone else's pain? Have you ever been tempted (or pressured by another) to be less happy than you feel because of the sadness in someone else's life?

Recently I was enjoying a pleasant, snowy December morning working at the church office when I learned of the death of a young parishioner's mother. A college-age person like me, he was far too young, it seemed, to have to deal with the death of a parent.

Before receiving this news, my thoughs had been focused on preparing for a church Christmas concert I was performing in. It had the potential to be a great concert, and I wanted to make my contributions as wholehearted and satisfying as possible. But how, I now wondered, could I think about and enjoy something so frivolous and carefree as a concert while someone else was going through a tragic period of suffering?

My ruminations continued, pushing the issue even further—at any given moment, I realized, millions of people around the world (and right outside my door) are enduring unspeakable pain, suffering, and tragedy. How can someone who is not experiencing such hurt possibly be happy (and try to make others happy) when his very happiness might increase their pain?

Well, read the previous sentence once more. Since when does one person's happiness increase another's pain? The only situation in which this could occur would be if the unhappy person became jealous of the happy one. This is a personal decision on the part of the unhappy person, and has nothing to do with the happy person.

There is no obligation to decrease your spirit because of another's pain.

When the bluebird of happiness chooses to perch on our shoulder, we are given a gift, and it is our mission to use the dynamic energy of happiness to help those around us.

If you are happy, your positive mood will often affect those around you in a discernibly good way—they will be warmed and uplifted by your presence. In fact, you may make more of a difference than you think. Your happiness could actually help prevent an unspeakable sort of tragedy in someone else's life, merely because of the effect you had on them. It has been said that a smile can stop a suicide. I believe those stories when I hear them. You truly never know whose life you might help change.

If someone reacts negatively to your happiness—if they lash out at you, mock you, or by any other method make you feel inferior or wrong for being happy—take heart. You have done nothing but reach out to them. Instead of letting their reaction get you down, you should resolve to stay in a mindset of peacefulness and thanks. And pray for the person as soon as you part ways.

Happily,
Joezilla

P.S.: "It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air." ~W.T. Ellis

You Haven't Got Mail

2010-11-12T10:14:00.006-06:00

I'll never forget an experience that my brother once had on an airplane. The flight attendant was passing by, and he realized just after she had passed that he needed something from her. So he lightly tapped her arm in order to get her attention. She turned around and took his request (I think he wanted a drink, or had some garbage to throw away), then punctuated it by saying, in the most withering and gravely serious manner one could imagine:

"Here's a little free advice. Never touch the flight attendants."

Needless to say, her words lived on through oral tradition. To my knowledge, this is the first recorded account of the affair.

But why am I saying any of this? Well, I admit that the reason is a connection both tangential and tenuous, but I'm not ashamed of it: I have some free advice for you, dear reader (assuming you're open to advice, and, of course, that you exist). Here it is:

Stop checking your e-mail.

Allow me to add some context. Have you ever been waiting for an e-mail that just doesn't seem to come? Perhaps it is a social e-mail. Perhaps it is a financial matter. It might even be a CNN News Update (fat chance!).

But whatever it is, it can wait. If something is exerting that much influence over your life that you are unable to sit for ten minutes without checking your e-mail, you need to consider why that is. It's time to take back control over your life. Forget about waiting ten minutes—don't check it for an hour.

Okay, I hear what you're saying. "It's urgent! I need to answer it as soon as I can!" Well, that's understandable. Set a definite time, then, before which you will not check it. I've got some news for you: if it doesn't come in one hour, you're going to be in the same position you are right now. So wait the hour, or the half-hour, or whatever time limit the urgency of the situation demands. But don't stew in impatience. That's building a neurosis.

Destiny is decided in the little times, the "small hours" that Rob Thomas sings about in his wonderful song. You will not realize where your destiny took you until you can see all of the tiny decisions you made along the way, every day, each decision like the granules of sand and rock in poured concrete. There are far too many to fathom, but each is contributing to something larger. Be careful what sort of decisions you're including in your life.

Life is like concrete, fig. 1: Your life if you make bad decisions

Life is like concrete, fig. 2: Your life if you make good decisions (this concrete dome, called the Roman Pantheon, was built in ancient times, and still stands today)

So you see the difference a little consideration can make. What do you want your life to be like? Today is the day you decide that, when you choose how to respond to the events and challenges in your life. Good luck.

And remember: a bad habit is most easily overcome by replacing it with a good habit! So stand up and do some calisthenics instead of checking your e-mail. Now we're talking!

Peace,
Joezilla

"Patience obtains all things."
--St. Teresa of Avila

Guided Drift and the Paradox of Faith

2010-10-07T13:34:00.035-05:00

"I am glad that I've been able to do what I've done and not been sidetracked along the way. A teacher of mine calls it guided drift. Isn't that wonderful? You're drifting, and yet you've got a rudder."

As Mr. Rogers so satisfyingly puts it in the quote above, life becomes a positive pleasure when we know where we're going and allow this knowledge of our course to give us peace. In order to live effective lives we need to have a purpose, a continuous thread that unites our individual days into a coherent work. That is why Mr. Rogers talks about having a rudder. We need to guide ourselves, and we need to rely on something to give us that guidance.

For a long time I looked at life believing that we all have some inspired moments, and we also have a great many uninspired moments. We must live (so I thought) on those inspirations to get us through the uninspired periods of life, which are far more common. There is a grain of truth in this. We do have peak experiences of happiness, hope, promise, joy, and love—followed by the proverbial descent back to planet Earth, in which we remember our troubles (and perhaps feel a little gloomy that we aren't so inspired anymore).

That said, I now realize that it is not enough merely to live on the inspired moments, like rations on a trip through the desert. No, I believe that God calls us to something greater than that. You see, people living solely on previous inspirations—and waiting for future ones—are not focusing on the day-to-day business of life. They are attaching themselves to that song that used to empower them so much, or they are voraciously rereading that one quote that used to give them such confidence, or talking to that one friend who always cheers them up...the list goes on and on. The point is, they are chasing that feeling rather than living it out. They could be cheering someone else up. Instead, they're focusing on how much they themselves need cheering up.

One of the greatest pieces of advice my Mom has ever given me is: "The best solution for depression is to do something for someone else—to get out of yourself." It is so true, and will doubtless lead to better spirits if we are feeling depressed.

But what about all the moments inbetween the highs and lows? What about the average days, when we drift through our daily grind with no sense of inspiration or mission? We need some thread of constancy to call us back to living our best.

The answer, as is often the case, lies in a common word with a life-changing meaning:

FAITH.

Faith is the answer. Now when I say "faith," I don't just mean "religious belief." I am talking about a lifestyle—a worldview that we can call up with an act of the will, and should work to maintain in every waking (and sleeping) moment. If we can manage to make it part of our modus operandi, it will change our lives—I'll place a 100% guarantee on that.

This worldview has two big components.

The first is the consciousness of God and His plan. The person of faith believes, deep inside, that there is a God Who loves us all and Who has a plan for every individual—a plan that, if followed, will bring them to the self-fulfillment of their highest dreams and deepest longings. I say "self-fulfillment" because we play a role in this plan. We create our own reality, at least in terms of how we respond to the outside world.

But the person of faith can take all of this in stride and proceed peacefully because he knows that if he follows God's commands, then things will go rightly for him. Life will be good. Unexpected events may happen (look at the story of Job!), but God has a plan. We can move forward in peace and happiness, because it all turns out okay in the end. It's pretty amazing, actually. Imagine being able to walk through life in perfect peace. In theory, we can do just that—because God has told us that He loves us and wants the best for us.

That's one part of faith. The other is prayer. God loves us, and wants the best for us. He also wants us to grow closer to Him. One way of describing Heaven, in fact, is a perfect relationship with God. Nothing gets in the way. We remain ourselves, but we are united with Him in some unimaginable and infinitely wonderful way.

But that comes later. Right now, stuff gets in the way. Lots of stuff. Problems, people, things, emotions, sins...the list once again goes on and on! But God has given us ways around these impediments. One of the foremost of these—one of the most foundational practices for a Christian—is prayer. Praying is communing with the Creator. It's a way of accepting His constant, daily calls and saying, "I love you too, God. Now what do you want to tell me today?"

For years, I have vastly underestimated the transformative potential of prayer in the individual life. But now I see that prayer is that thread of constancy. It is what keeps us close to God, even in the midst of struggles. Saying the Rosary or part of the Rosary (a decade or two) every day is such a great way to do this. It will have a lovely effect on your life. Fulton J. Sheen once described saying the Rosary as "saying 'I love You' to our Father." I believe he was right. If you've never prayed the Rosary before, feel free to check out this link for all the instructions and prayers: http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm.

Now, I know what you're thinking (if indeed there is anyone out there to be thinking anything): "Great. You've pontificated on faith, but you haven't answered the question of how we stop the roller coaster ride of ecstatic highs, gloomy lows, and wishy-washy times inbetween. I don't think that talking about faith means I'll never feel down again."

Ah, but therein lies the paradox of faith! Faith is not about inspiration or emotion. Faith is believing that your spiritual life is significant, that what you pray makes a difference. Faith is believing that when you pray—whether you feel inspired or not—you are doing something of unfathomable significance. Faith is a lifeline that carries us through whether we are experiencing a high, a low, or a "sideways." It does not guarantee us a life of constant inspiration, but it allows us to avoid that need altogether—because it gives us a higher perspective on life. When we lift our concerns up to God, He lifts us up too.

It's all about that guided drift Mr. Rogers talked about. Faith is our rudder, our guide, but it also gives enough peace to let us drift.

Here's to an hour, day, week, month, year, and life of guided drift,

Joezilla

The Coward, or the Tiger?

2010-07-28T01:47:00.008-05:00

I stepped into the darkened room, and I knew something wasn’t right. “The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end,” as they say. Nothing in the room had changed, as far as I could tell in the nearly pitch-black, split-second survey I’d given it as I entered. That was not the problem.

There was someone else in there. Someone tall, well-hidden, and very close. Hiding next to the doorway! I instinctively tried to dash forward, out of his grasp, but it was too late—I felt an iron grip fasten itself around my neck.

Actually, I didn’t. Yeah, now that I think about it, nothing actually happened. There was no one in there. Come on—it was my bedroom! The worst thing that could be in there is one of my brothers trying to startle me—and, thank God, that hasn’t happened since 1996.

Yep, it was my imagination. And, so that you don’t take me for a delusion-prone lunatic, let me point out that I didn’t actually experience this as vividly as I described. It was more a little thought that popped into my head before I turned the light on: “Hey, what if there was somebody in here waiting for me, who wanted to kill me? Whew! Creepy! OK, turn on the light now.” An odd hypothetical question, to be sure. I’ll grant you that. But I wasn’t on the floor convulsing in a schizophrenic frenzy. Just to make that clear. Now where the heck was I?

Oh yeah. This little thought that popped into my head, it got me thinking. It got me thinking about how important a mindset can be. What if there was a hitman waiting for me inside my bedroom? In the mindset I had at that moment, I would have been scared to death—and guess where that would’ve led me? I’ll give you a hint: it’s what I was scared to.

There are different kinds of fear. I fear a nuclear war. I fear the results of our culture’s immorality. I fear several things in that way. But that fear is more of a thought process, more of a conclusion based on our principles. But there’s another type of fear, a visceral, instinctive one, like what I described in the opening paragraphs, that can be our downfall in perilous situations.

Put yourself in the hitman-bedroom scenario. Now replace yourself with a tiger. How would the hitman feel about grabbing a tiger by the neck? Not so eager, you see. Why is that? Well, the tiger would respond in a, shall we say, resentful way. The hitman has no right to grab that tiger by the neck, and the tiger has claws and teeth that will put forth that contention in quite a convincing fashion.

Here’s the fact, Jack: we all can choose to be the instinctive coward, or the tiger. There’s one of each inside all of us. Perhaps we’re not all tigers inside. Some of us might be gigantic Kodiak bears, or poisonous coral snakes. Heck, some of us are probably more like rabid chimps, or charging llamas. But the point is, we all have the potential inside of us—the sleeping beast, so to speak—who’s completely capable of unloading a potential can of Whoop-*** on anyone who threatens us.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be enough. The hitman might be able to choke the tiger, or shoot it. And another disclaimer—I’m not saying “never run—always fight! Hulk smash! Aargh!” No. I’m merely talking about that rare set of situations in which there is nothing to do but fight—and most of us haven’t ever been, and perchance won’t ever be, in those kinds of spots. But if we are, we need to be ready. Because destiny is decided in the instants, not the aeons. It’s the split-second decisions that make the most difference; they truly are the building blocks of life.

All I’m saying has been paraphrased by two great thinkers of yore, and they shall close this humble treatise:

I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

—Hamlet, from Shakespeare’s play, Act V, Scene 1

Don't hit at all if you can help it; don't hit a man if you can possibly avoid it; but if you do hit him, put him to sleep.
—Theodore Roosevelt (yep, that's him in the picture!)

Jeremiah 23:32

2010-07-22T12:24:00.003-05:00

Jeremiah 23:32

Yes, I am against the prophets who prophesy lying dreams, says the LORD, and who lead my people astray by recounting their lies and by their empty boasting. From me they have no mission or command, and they do this people no good at all, says the LORD.

God has no kind words for the false prophets of Jeremiah’s day. Instead of role modeling for the people with genuine lives and honest proclamations, they lived according to their own inclinations and provided sugarcoated prophecies to the people. It may have made everyone feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it was, in fact, the worst of times to pull such a shenanigan.

In fact, “the worst of times,” if we may borrow from Charles Dickens, would be a great way to describe the situation of Jerusalem at the time. Babylon’s growing power threatened to wipe Jerusalem off the map; the 590s B.C. would see a siege of the city, as well as the humiliating deportation of its king, at the forceful hands of Nebuchadnezzar II. It seemed as if things just couldn’t get any worse.

This problem could have been avoided. Jeremiah’s messages from God reveal that all of this misfortune was the direct result of the people’s infidelity to the covenant with God. Had they remained faithful in the power of Yahweh to deliver them from the evil nations that threatened them (instead of resorting to treaties with other evil nations for extra security), had they retained the purity and devotion of their religious life (instead of copying the disgusting practices of child sacrifice and ritual prostitution practiced by other nations), had they broken out of selfish mindsets and lived according to a rigid moral compass (instead of bending to their own self-interest and oppressing the lowliest of their people), God would have delivered them.

The historical facts may make us scratch our heads and wonder if this deliverance could really have happened, even if the Israelites had been faithful to the max—but stop scratching your head for a moment and consider that this is the exact feeling that the Israelites had at the time. A lack of faith. This lack of faith is what led to Jerusalem’s destruction at the hands of Babylon.

Amen, I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

So this is the situation of Jerusalem around the time that God (through Jeremiah) rails against the false prophets. Right when the people need to straighten up and fly right, the poser prophets have to come in and pat them on the back for doing a nice job. Hence, we can understand His position. But this is not merely an outburst of almighty frustration; God is telling us something that resonates truly in any age, in any place, and for any person.

Look at what Jeremiah says about the false prophets:

From me they have no mission or command, and they do this people no good at all, says the LORD.

Have you ever felt a keen sense of mission? Perhaps you’ve been working on a project or leading a seminar or retreat. Perhaps your work was more long-term, like starting an organization or raising a child. Whatever the case, you have felt it—a sort of pull from the future, a vision of success that calls to you and gives you the inspiration to keep working, as hard as you can, to achieve your goal. Without a mission, we could accomplish nothing. D-Day was a success because level-headed officers and soldiers, in the midst of unspeakable chaos, were able to look past it all and figure out a way to achieve their mission objectives.

God gives each of us a mission, too, but we can only discern this mission—feel it, resonating in our bones like a song—when we are doing His will. If we drift away from the covenant that Jesus made with mankind when he shed his blood for us, we forget our mission; we go off-road; we may even crash and burn, like the Israelites of yore.

What is your mission? Have you listened for it lately? Have you felt it lately? Renew your commitment to God; purify your mind and heart, and you will be able to hear your mission.

God always makes it clear that He wants to work with us. Jeremiah tells us today that when we remain faithful to God, He gives our lives mission, meaning, purpose. It is up to us to choose to accept it.

Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his own face in a mirror. He sees himself, then goes off and promptly forgets what he looked like. (James 1:22-24)

Christianity and Islam: Not the Same God

2010-07-13T13:23:00.003-05:00

I’ve grown pretty tired of hearing a certain adage that has unfortunately become par for the course in any discussion about Islam and Christianity. I refer to the idea that “Christians and Muslims worship the same God.” Or, in its more stylish (though technically more confusing) form, “God and Allah are the same.” This notion is corrosive to an honest and critical understanding of religious differences, leading to a false sense of interreligious agreement, which usually requires one or both faiths to deny their true identity. And that is the biggest problem with the “Allah = God” idea—it denies important aspects of both religions.

Now before getting into this, let’s take care of the obvious objections. Yes, Allah means “God” in Arabic. And yes, Arab Christians use the term Allah to signify the God of Christianity. And yes once more, many or most Muslims are happy to translate the word Allah as “God.” But to hook onto mere names and words is to misjudge the depth of the argument here. We are examining not the name that each faith gives to God, but the words, actions, and attributes of God in each faith. In Islam and Christianity, these are quite different, even if they are both called “God.”

REVELATION: THE WAY TO UNDERSTANDING

How do we, as faithful people, learn about God? The answer, of course, is revelation. Revelation, in the traditional sense, is the transmission of God’s Truth into the world through various means. In Christian and Muslim contexts, revelation was memorized, transmitted orally, and later written down, or written down from the start. Revelation is important because it is our foundation for any claims about God; without it, the tools of reason and practical experience can only help us speculate about God. Add revelation to the mix, though, and the human mind and memory have something to work with. This phenomenon could be expressed as a simple equation:

Revelation + Reason + Experience = Knowledge of God

But the important fact to remember is that revelation is the most important component of the equation above. If the Qur’an states about God that “He created all things and He is All Knowing of all things” (6.101), then we don’t need to do much logical reasoning to understand this. It’s a pretty clear statement about God. And we certainly could not employ reason or experience to contest a claim of revelation. The point is, revelation is the first and foremost factor in understanding God from a Christian or Muslim perspective, and so we must give it higher priority than anything else when comparing the two religions.

So let’s do that, and see if Christians and Muslims really worship the same God.

“THE GOSPEL TRUTH”

In the 4th Sura (the Qur’anic equivalent of a chapter in the Bible), it is written:

O People of the Book! Do not commit excesses in your religion: Nor say anything except the truth about God. Messiah Isa (Christ Jesus), the son of Maryam (Mary) was a messenger of God, and His Word, which He sent down to Maryam, and a Spirit created by Him: So believe in God and His messengers. Do not say “Trinity”: Stop: It will be better for you: Because God is One God: Glory be to Him…. (4.171)

This passage is an answer to the Christian claim that Jesus, as the second person of the Holy Trinity, is the Son of God. For the sake of historical context, note that the Christian claim about Jesus predates the Muslim one by about 550 years! But I digress. The point here is simply that the Qur’an clearly speaks against the idea of a Triune God, divesting Jesus of his divinity and emphasizing the oneness of God.

Christians, on the other hand, beg to differ about Jesus, and consequently about God. As Jesus testifies in the Gospel of John,

The Father and I are one. (10:30)

And lest anyone point out that John’s Gospel pushes the divinity of Jesus harder than the other Gospels, let’s throw in the final verses of Matthew’s Gospel, for both good measure and a solid demonstration of the Trinitarian formula:

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age. (28:19-20)

The point here, plain and simple, is that Muslims worship a God of total, inviolable unity. This principle of God’s oneness is in fact the first part of the shahadah, the concise profession of faith that one must make in order to become a Muslim. This principle is, by any Muslim’s admission, the core of Islamic belief about God.

Contrast this image of God with that of Christianity. God is one unity expressed in three persons: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Christians accept the admittedly confusing mystery of the Trinity as essential to their faith because it was handed down to them from revelation and through tradition, but they do not see themselves as worshipping more than one God.

But is this one God the same as the one God worshipped by the Muslims? Unless Muslims consider Jesus to be God (they don’t), or Christians consider God to be a Unity rather than a Trinity (they don’t), we are dealing with two very different images of God here.

CONCLUSION

When Christians say that they worship “the same God” as their Muslim brothers and sisters, they are allying themselves with a God who denies the divinity of Jesus. Do Christians really want to make such a claim? The same is true for Muslims. When they identify their own God as “the same” as the God of Christianity, they are adopting God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit as objects of their veneration. If they do not agree to do this, then they are not worshipping the God of Christianity.

We are entering an age in which religious understanding will become perhaps more important than ever before; as such, religious self-understanding takes on an even more breathtaking urgency. It will not help to claim erroneous similarities between religions in the hopes of breaking down barriers, when those barriers are foundational and essential assertions of each faith. There are differences; we must learn and embrace these differences if we want our faith to retain its astounding power in the world, the blazing power of Truth, unadulterated. If all faith was actually the same, there would be only one faith.

Pearls Before Swine

2010-06-13T23:01:00.006-05:00

Gay marriage is a hot political issue today. This means that across the country (and the world), conversations are happening between Catholics and non-Catholics, and among Catholics themselves, regarding this issue. If you consider yourself an orthodox Christian, you must face the fact that you will likely be given the opportunity to speak about this issue with someone who disagrees, Catholic or otherwise.

How will you respond when that time comes? Will you murmur an assent and nod slowly? Will you wishy-washily answer "I don't know..." and trail off in mock-indecision? Or perhaps you will respond with that time-honored tagline of truth-skirting talk—"Hmm."

The question you have to ask yourself is this: are you willing to sacrifice an institution in order to avoid an awkward conversation? The fact is, society is changed from the ground up. No matter what the media says, no matter what TV and radio pump into our ears, the unassailable fact remains that "We the People" decide society's direction, and word of mouth is still the strongest form of media there is. If we remain silent while ideas we disagree with are assumed and accepted, while ramps to Hell are exalted as stairways to Heaven, then we will be spectators to the continued downward trudge of society—with only our timidity to blame.

It is our challenge to never remain silent in the face of what is wrong. And free speech will be the freedom that delivers us from moral turmoil, if only we are willing to use it. Speak up, everybody! Don't budge!

Face to Face With Life

2010-06-06T02:08:00.006-05:00

Face to face with life. That's what it said. Face to face with life. Just a little advertising motto written on the travel agency's pen. But those words carried a lot of power in that moment.

Face to face with life. What does that mean? What is it like to be face to face with life? I'll tell you--it's to look at things squarely. It's to experience life directly and vividly, the way we were designed to experience it. How many days have you finished and wondered--wow, did I really just let this day pass me by? How many days have you been too out-of-it to even ask the question?

It's also to be honest with yourself about what's going on in your world, and what other people are doing and feeling, too. We see enough to understand all we need to understand. Other people's words and actions, on the whole, reflect what they are feeling. But we often don't go deep enough when we're thinking about other people; we often jump to one conclusion and cling to it like a rubber band. When you're face to face with life, you realize that you don't know a whole lot. You can't accurately diagnose why people are acting or feeling the way they are--but if you are attentive to them, you are aware of what they're feeling. And if you're committed to becoming the best person you can be, what does this awareness make you want to do?

That is what is most amazing, what I discovered when I made the commitment; then and there seeing that wonderful pen, I realized that getting face to face with life causes compassion.

Suppose this: someday, someone is acting lukewarm toward you, and it makes you wonder if you've done something to anger or offend them. This is the ego coming in (the ego always comes in when problems arise), because you actually have no grounds to assume this.

But oftentimes we do assume things like this, and it leads to so much unnecessary strife. Think about that person a little more. Something is certainly bothering them, that much is clear. But look at life squarely! You don't know the real answer--and instead of wondering how you might have caused his low spirits, why don't you try to make him feel better? A kind word, if it's real and from the heart, goes a long, long way. Think about it.

Face to face with life! How cool is that? Think deeply, then act deeply. Face to face with life. You know, I've never been one to have a motto, but this simple yet startling phrase is sorely tempting me to adopt it as one.

The Solution

2010-05-14T16:58:00.004-05:00

Sometimes it's the most obvious advice that we need to hear most often and most repeatedly. So let's sustain that custom with today's brief post.

No matter what problems you are facing, prayer is solace, solution, and the way forward. Whatever is not right in your life, whether you know what that is or not, begins to be solved when you sit in silence and set yourself to commune with your Creator. All will be well. As Boyd Bailey says, "Be still, listen, and let Him love you and revive you."

It is no wonder that prayer is one of the most common characteristics of the saints. Prayer is an immediate way of getting closer to God. We are called as Christians to live our lives so as to bring ourselves closer to God. So why do we waste so much time thinking about the grass of the field, which is thrown into the oven tomorrow, when God is right there waiting for us?

It is quite literally true to assert that God has all the time in the world; He can wait.

But can we?

Random Thoughts

2010-05-10T13:12:00.003-05:00

Once again borrowing a page from the book of Thomas Sowell, I present several "Random Thoughts." These are neither as political or as entertaining as his, but they are certainly random; their status as thoughts may be justifiably contested by the reader:

1. I was taught to examine life and learn from it, that daily experiences are not isolated events that fade into the past, but connected lessons in the School of Human Experience—which will teach us volumes if we are willing to pay attention. This perspective comes with a price. It's quite a bit like exercise: it demonstrates our limits every time. The daily challenges of life have a way of highlighting our weakness in bright colors, of pointing out what we did wrong and showing us what would have been the best action to take (hindsight is 20/20, after all). But the practice of examining life's challenges for lessons also is like exercise in this simple and striking fact: provided we don't place undue stress on ourselves, each struggle makes us stronger. And knowing that makes us thankful for trials.

2. The only man more formidable than him with nothing to lose is him with something to fight for.

3. Of all ebriosity, who does not prefer to be intoxicated by the air he breathes? (Henry David Thoreau)

That is all.

Good day!

Joezilla

Spring Forward

2010-03-31T09:38:00.013-05:00

Spring has rushed to our rescue, melting the snow and exposing that forgotten substrata of tired and beaten-down grass. Although this oppressed race of plant life will be second-nature to us in a matter of weeks, it nonetheless grabs our present attention, and could not have come at a better time.

There's something romantic (in the broader and more indescribable sense of the old authors, not the narrow "candlelight dinner" sense in which we commonly understand it) about this grass. It has been covered for far too long; weighed down by soft snow, which turned to unforgiving ice as winter's ferocious progression continued, it now emerges, squinting, into a pleasant, sunny scene. Like a foot trapped all day in a shoe, it needs this fresh, mild air. Like a solar panel stranded in Seattle, it needs direct sunlight. And a cursory survey of any responsible neighborhood will tell you this, as well: the grass needs some raking!

It is a happy occurence when the rules of nature teach us a lesson. This happens constantly, of course, but few of them are as blessedly obvious as this one: we, too, need a good raking now and then!

Perhaps that is why we remember the cruel death of our Savior this week. It is a spiritual raking, a time in which we have little choice but to reflect on something uncomfortable and sad, and renew our sense of gratitude to Christ. And as the winter turns to spring, so the solemn Holy Week turns to the joy and peace of Easter. The raked grass, which seemed almost hopeless mere days ago, regains its lost and forgotten life.
So now is the time to consider what sort of raking we most need. The bent and battered grass will remain flat and uninspiring if we don't rough it up with a rake; likewise our own bodies and spirits need to be ruffled up and spurred into action and emotion. Break out of the four walls which, throughout winter, were a welcome refuge--the outdoors are your refuge today! Break out of those tired mental patterns you've become accustomed to through Frigid February and Morbid March. The weather is no longer something to be bummed about (not that it ever was, of course, but most people hate the winter weather!)--no more of that meteorological grumbling! It might be sunny and warm tomorrow! It IS sunny and warm today!

May this spring be one of renewal and success for you, wherever you are. Where you were lazy yesterday, today and always you will be ambitious. Where you were tired yesterday, today and always you will find the energy within, rushing like Niagara. Where you found dreary and dank fortunes yesterday, today and always you will find hope and a brighter tomorrow. No, life will not always be easy; no, life will not always seem perfect, or even good; but carry this resolution within you, to the astonishment of demons and evil-doers alike--I will give my best, come what may. For I know what awaits the steadfast heart, and it is that horizon, and no other, upon which I set my gaze.

Yes, Spring has arrived, and with more blaze than expected! Reflect on the sacrifice of our Lord this week, and have a joyful Easter and beyond!

God Bless You,

Joezilla

Clarity

2010-03-29T09:42:00.003-05:00

Hello,

A question to throw out over the cyber-waves (or whatever they're called) today: what could you do to make your life more honest and open? Clarity is something we're called to strive for, but none of us achieves it perfectly. Nonetheless, the whole point of striving is to work toward that elusive perfection, in hopes that one day--with a lot of help from our Father--we will achieve it.

So what can be done? Today, my life taught me something simple yet beautiful about clarity:

Be ready to face anyone, at any moment. If you find yourself purposely avoiding someone, you need to stop and fix things.

The fact is, if we are living a genuine and righteous life, we should be able to face anyone, anytime, about anything. So if you're running from someone or something, stop in your tracks, figure out what's wrong, and be prepared to face them about it. If you don't, you're only running from the truth--and that never ends well.

Keep fighting the good fight!
Respectfully,
Joezilla

The Highest Form of Thought

2010-03-15T16:52:00.004-05:00

How soon we forget…

Isn’t it amazing how quickly we can lose sight of the good things people have said or done to us in the past? How easy is it for us to snap at someone who, a mere span of days or hours ago, brought us immense joy with a funny joke, or brought us to our senses with an honest comment, shot straight from hip and heart? We like to speak of overlooking someone’s faults and giving the benefit of the doubt. But how much more often it is that we overlook the gifts and graces of others, and assume the worst about them! Perhaps it is only I who do this, but I suspect that most are alike in this bad way. What are we to do? The only answer is, commit. Commit ourselves to gratefulness, to wonder—in short, to love.

Special shout-out to TobyMac, whose great song “Hold On” reminded me of this stuff today. Have a listen—it may change the course of your day as it did mine!

http://play.napster.com/track/31568383

Wake up to the morning sun,

Thank the Lord for the things He’s done

Lift your eyes to the Hope that's ever True...

With the love of a stalwart friend, and thankfully!

Joezilla

A Biting Truth

2010-03-01T16:23:00.006-06:00

"YEOWCH!"
I winced as I felt my teeth sink hard upon the inside of my cheek, showering my head with burning pain—I had just witnessed, all-too-firsthand, the dangers of eating a bagel too quickly. I immediately adjusted my manner of eating. A moment ago, my highest priority had been chewing the bagel before all the delectable cinnamon-sugar melted away; now I shifted to the more practical goal of not chewing up the inside of my mouth.

As the pain and my reactive wince subsided, I began contemplating what had just happened. I had not bitten myself of my own accord; for whatever reason, God willed that seemingly unfortunate event. I began to gaze warily at my surroundings. What else could God will at this moment? Might the roof come tumbling down upon my unsuspecting head? Or, perhaps, would the lake outside the window, in roaring tsunamic rampage, surge forward and wipe away the building in which I dined? Pondering such potential pains (all of which outweighed my bitten mouth by serious degrees), I finally began to understand what "fear of the Lord" means.

My rather macabre reveries revealed an underlying assumption which I'd never truly faced before: God has the power to do whatever He wants to us. Truly, the concept of an all-powerful deity, taken alone, contains some frightful implications. If God so chose, He could fly us up to the stratosphere, spin us around 18 times, then drop us like skydivers without parachutes. He could cause a rainstorm of rocks to thunder upon us—indoors. Dare I mention it, He could even cause the song "Thriller" to play, in a sort of eternal repeat mode, unceasingly through the maddened corridors of our own minds.

There is quite literally nothing that He could not do to us, if He so chose. Now thankfully, our religion tells us that He will most likely not do any of this. God loves us, and His actions in Scripture make that resoundingly clear. But the fact remains, and the story of Job stands out as an unsettling reminder of this, that God has the power to do whatsoever He wants.

Now a moment's reflection on this fact ought not result in fearful frenzy or dead-eyed depression. Quite the contrary, in fact—because such a solid conviction of God's power results in an equally-solid conviction of our own powerlessness.

At any moment, we could be rendered deaf and dumb for the rest of our days. Why should that scare us? It should just shock us into the realization that we aren't here for our own fulfillment. We are so powerless that we can't possibly fulfill ourselves, no matter how hard we try. Everything temporal that we've worked for and continue to work for—it could all be wiped away in a second. If that were to happen, what would remain? Self-fulfillment is not our job.

It comes as a surprise to remember this, every now and then. We are not here to fulfill our own desires, but to obey the Will of He Who made us. It's a simple but foundational change in perspective, a true inversion of our priorities. And it helps a lot. Of course, the greatest paradox arrives when we learn that God's Will is to fulfill us, but that fulfillment will only come when we submit ourselves to Him, cutting every string, surrendering every cheap battle, and embracing every human spirit with an open heart and a thankful soul.

Who knew that biting yourself could be so great?

Fearing the Lord (in a good way),
Joezilla

Momentous Mania

2010-02-10T01:35:00.008-06:00

I recently discovered that some people had fallen prey to a monster. Those people are friends whom I have known and respected for several years; the monster is an attitude that has existed since, oh, before you were born. It has been called many names, but rarely has it been mocked in alliterative irony, so here goes—I hereby dub it the Mania of the Moment.

Maniacs of the Moment are usually referred to as “experts.” I’m sure you’ve heard of them before (if, in fact, there is a “you” out there reading this to whom I may refer). In addition to answering phone calls from desperate journalists who need a molehill to make a mountain out of, experts also teach classes at universities. Generally their goal in teaching lies not in imparting bales of information, but in teaching a mindset to their students. That mindset is: “Check your preconceived notions at the door, young people. You were raised with certain assumptions and prejudices, but in college we will nurture in you an open mind; and to accomplish this we will tell you the way we think the world is, and teach you not to question our assumptions and prejudices.” And thus, the world is remade in the image of the experts. Or as I like to call them, the Maniacs of the Moment.

The victims of the Maniacs who I referred to above was describing to me an almost absurdly unreasonable modern theory that tried to explain the phenomenon of “transgendered” individuals on a genetic basis:

Pared down to the essentials, it says that a boy as young as nine months old will display an affinity for women’s accessories, be they her shoes, her coat, her perfume…despite parental objections, these children may sometimes grow up to identify as the opposite gender. The cause of this is likely a blend of genetic predisposition and prenatal hormones.

Yes. I wish I had made that up, but no—that happens to be material apparently taught in a Psychology class at a world-class university in the Midwest. I call it absurdly unreasonable because it contends that a nine month old boy, who is just getting used to walking and talking, somehow recognizes the cultural and sociological significance of physical objects like shoes and purses. Cultural and sociological information is not innate; it is taught. Any fool, scientific or not, can comprehend and state this simple fact (one just did).
But the saddest fact was not that they considered this doctrine credible. No, the saddest fact was that they proved themselves unwilling to “take what they teach you with a grain of salt,” as I suggested (and I’d say that a grain of salt is not much to ask against the previous poppycock I just described)!

Is critical thinking really out of vogue? The answer is a resounding YES, and it has always been out of vogue. Centuries ago, the leading experts of the day propounded that the entire universe revolved around our planet earth…our flat planet earth. Now I know that my history is a bit fuzzy, the Greeks knew the earth was round for centuries, and yada-yada-yada. That’s not important. And I’m being completely serious here. It’s not important, because the principle is true, namely that most people cannot see past their own generation’s myopic line of sight.

That’s a sad thing, and it hurt to see my friends falling for this cheap and passing parlor trick based on spin and false authority. They are intelligent people, good-hearted, far more intelligent than I, in terms of scientific and mathematic smarts. But there is more to intelligence than being able to comprehend abstract concepts or being able to store data.

The key to true intelligence, I say, is common sense and critical thinking. Anyone who wants to be smart needs only these tools, along with a workable and willing intellect, in order to excel. I honestly believe that. Albert Einstein himself said that “imagination is more important than knowledge.” Being able to fairly evaluate the concepts one is taught—rather than just accepting them as unassailable fact—and proposing creative solutions to the problems that indubitably arise, is a prerequisite for any truly intelligent person, not least any scientist.

I desperately hope that critical thinking makes a comeback, because until it does little boys will retain their genetic affinity for women’s high-heels, just as the earth remained flat for so many long and ignorant centuries.

To close: Why, you may query perturbedly, have I concluded with this picture? Because it's hilarious. Enjoy.

Stay strong (I mean it),

Joezilla

Today is Tomorrow

2010-02-05T23:02:00.004-06:00

“It’s gonna be cold, it’s gonna be gray, and it’s gonna last you for the rest of your life.” So testifies Phil Conners, world-class meteriologist and full-time jerk, in one of his lowest moments in the wonderful movie Groundhog Day. Whether or not we agree with Phil’s prediction tells us a lot about how we are currently seeing the world.

Phil’s is a unique tale; he goes to wintry Punxatawney, Pennsylvania to cover the annual Groundhog Day festivities, dutifully does his drudgery, then goes to sleep. He wakes up the next morning to a cold Punxatawney morning…a cold and familiar Punxatawney morning. Yes, as you probably already know (unless you have not seen the film, in which case you are seriously missing out), Phil is forced by the powers-that-be (in this case, it’s writer-director Harold Ramis) to relive the same day, over, and over, and over again.

How long is Phil trapped in this temporal wasteland? Months, maybe. Probably years. He’s there long enough to learn the quirky backgrounds of almost every citizen in Punxatawney, long enough to become a semi-pro piano-player, and long enough to become a trilingual aficionado of classic literature. And oh yeah, long enough to devote himself to a noble purpose—in fact, the noblest purpose anyone can dedicate himself to: self-improvement for the sake of others. But before he does any of that, he first attempts to wring out every inch of “fun” that he can from Punxatawney. It feels great at first, but soon the superabundance of, well, pretty much anything he wants, reveals the true emptiness of temporal pleasures.

The turning point comes when Phil talks to his pretty (and practically perfect in every way) producer, Rita. Convinced of his predicament, Rita offers this bit of advice: “Perhaps it’s not a curse. Maybe it just depends on how you look at it.” Phil promptly wakes up the next day and brings his co-workers coffee and pastries to enjoy amidst the bustle of their morning labor. In doing so, he begins the long and determined climb out of the hole he’s dug for himself, and at this point demonstrates a fundamental and potentially life-changing truth: kindness is a universal language. People worry too much about social niceties and clever turns of phrase, but Phil shows that an action fashioned from consideration and performed with kindness needs no fancy social wrapping. Be good, and everything else falls into place.

“As time goes by,” as they say, Phil builds himself into a true man—good-hearted, disciplined, and well-rounded (though, importantly, he remains as funny as ever). He takes up piano. He reads. He devotes himself, wholeheartedly it would seem, to serving others. Not a bad idea, Phil! It culminates in an epic day that seems to contain everything—music, dancing, snow-sculptures, a couple of saved lives…

Phil wakes up the next morning, and things are different. Can you imagine what it might feel like to live the same day over and over again for years, and then to wake up to a new one? Phil definitely shares the epithet of Dr. Manette in A Tale of Two Cities: RECALLED TO LIFE!

It should give us pause to realize that the universe, blessedly, doesn’t actually play tricks like that. We will go to sleep tonight, and we will wake up tomorrow, never to set foot on this date again. Perhaps that makes us want to seize this day, and that’s great. But more than that, I think it should make us appreciate the fact of tomorrow.

Think about it. You will wake up tomorrow, and there will be a whole new day ahead of you. What’s best, you will be able to act in that day, knowing that your good actions will have lasting consequences. Do you realize what a difference you can make in this world? Such great potential streams out of your every step; so be happy, wherever you are! As Phil says, incredulous, in the movie’s cheery final moments, “Today is tomorrow. It happened.” We all might benefit from saying that when we wake up to bright skies, gray or otherwise, in the tomorrow that never forgets to come. Today is tomorrow! Remember that!

And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Happy Groundhog Day!

Peacefully,
Joezilla

Grace of Gratefulness

2010-01-29T16:59:00.003-06:00

Thank You God,

For the days when the bright sky’s light shines clarity into our senses, when the tangled tips of the trees cut bold outlines against the luminous dome, massaging our eyes with deep royal hues.

Thank You God,

For the days when the rustling of a coat, the keyboard’s clickety-clack, and the unseen footsteps of a fellow traveler soothe our ears like the sweetest music.

Thank You God,

For the days when creation brightens, happiness meets us—or perhaps we are given the freshness to recognize the abundance You offer us, day, after day, after day, after day, after day, after day, after day.

Love,

Joe

Thoughts from January

2010-01-15T17:28:00.004-06:00

If you've ever seen a dream
Move from mind to real thing,
You know the great illusion, then,
That empty dreams can bring.

If you focus on your own,
Then the show gets dull, and fast.
But sing a chorus role for once—
By God, your peace will last.

Wicked Winter's dreary heart
Threatens cold and icy days;
But humble acts and gratitude
Will summon warmer rays.

Free Will and Confidence

2010-01-09T01:03:00.007-06:00

I can't speak for you, dear reader, (assuming there is a reader to describe as dear), but I know that the happiest moments of my life have been characterized by more than just happiness; they are always accompanied by a deep-seated sense of confidence, akin to rushing water. Happiness doesn't seem to last, but why should confidence ever leave us? Happiness is an emotion, but confidence is a choice. Happiness is fickle like the weather, but confidence is as freely chosen as the coat we put on in the morning.

Unfortunately, confidence is not an easy choice. Confidence demands effort, and occasionally means butting heads with genuine opponents or facing up to over-inflated masks of ego. Either way, it means we have to step out of the comfort zone.

Human instinct tends toward safety and comfort. It's just what we prefer. This is not a curse, but it does force us to put some effort into how we live our lives.

Confidence is a choice, but a choice that our nature pushes us away from. And here is where the trump card comes in, that wonderful aspect of humanity that always comes in to save us when we've worked ourselves into a self-reflective quandary about our nature. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, FREE WILL. Yes, we are endowed with free will, which implies that, at least in theory, we are capable of complete self-control.

Although we do not take advantage of this fact nearly as much as we could/should, the fact remains that in every moment, we are presented with a choice—the choice of what kind of person we want to be. We can be heroes or heels, champions or chick-a-dees, mavericks or mice. Who do you choose to be? Every moment demands a response to this question. If we ever feel a lack of confidence (and as was said, our nature tends toward that), all we need to do is visualize the person we want to be, and realize that a conscious choice on our part will transform us into that person.

One final word of warning: confidence does not come from within ourselves. The choice to change, the free will that gives us the chance to change ourselves, is a gift from above. And once we do choose the road less travelled, the strength to walk it does not come from our own metaphorical muscles. Confidence comes from God alone! The Spirit is the rushing water that fills our hearts and minds, leading us to our destination. Without a firm foundation in the One Who laid the earth's foundations, our towers will topple pretty fast. It all starts with a firm trust and wonder at the power and love of our unfailing, superactive Father in Heaven. I'd say more, but I'd prefer to share the words of Jesus. No, not the Christ, not this time. (Not that guy who works at Toys R Us, either.) I'm talking about Jesus, son of Eleazar, son of Sirach--a.k.a. author of the Book of Sirach:

"Lively is the courage of those who fear the LORD, for they put their hope in their savior; He who fears the LORD is never alarmed, never afraid; for the LORD is his hope...."

And here's where the happiness comes in:

"He buoys up the spirits, brings a sparkle to the eyes, gives health and life and blessing. "

--Sirach 34:14-15, 17--

Stay strong!

Confidently,
Joezilla

A Sonnett to Pizza, lovingly entitled: "Pizza Mia."

2009-12-17T20:06:00.005-06:00

I wrote this sonnett in a Renaissance Poetry class, and though my memory now fails me as to the details, yet I do remember something about a pizza-filled review session which I would not be able to attend. Regardless, it was evidently inspired by the throes of a passionate hunger for pizza. Enjoy!

~

PIZZA MIA.

Away with all this talk of studied verse,
For each new word reminds me of my curse:
I see the pepperoni, never mine;
And cheese, possessed of such a flavor fine—
my splendid, absent mozzarella wine—
O Pizza dear, for you alone I pine!

Some blessed day this May I may consume you
And in my darkened labyrinth entomb you.
But 'til the sun ariseth on that morn,
I rub my vacant cavity, forlorn.
This longing wills that I had ne'er been born,
But here, I think, I am, and I am torn.
If given minutes, months, or million years,
Pizza—you would quench my hungry tears.

HoBoy!

2009-12-17T03:05:00.009-06:00

Do you have any weaknesses? Something that makes you uncomfortable or uncertain, that freezes your better self in its tracks and calls you with a siren’s song to a disappointing mediocrity? Of course you do. So do I. We all have them. It’s just a matter of figuring out what it is. Take Superman, for example. He can fly around downtown (if I may borrow Matchbox 20’s verbiage), leap over buildings in a single bound, and yada yada yada--but put him in front of a green Kryptonite stone and he’s about as strong as Sammy Sosa without his steroids. That poor sap, Superman--he has a glaring weakness, and he can’t get rid of it. Luckily for us, we are nothing like Superman. We can fix our weaknesses.

Up until very recently, hobos were one of my weaknesses. It’s true. Speaking in front of a crowd, I could handle. Complaining at a restaurant, not a problem--and sometimes even a pleasure. But dealing with a hobo? Yikes! If a hobo on the street asked me for money, my mind would freeze and I would go into deer-in-the-headlights mode (okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating a bit, but “deer-in-the-headlights mode” is a wonderful phrase, and I had to include it). In all seriousness, though, such a situation, common as it is in urban areas, was one of uncertainty and discomfort. On one hand, we have the societal (and in some ways religious) push toward simple acts of charity, which is often represented as giving money to the poor folks in the streets. Although this is a shallow characterization (more on that later), it is nonetheless the message we often see in movies and hear in sermons. People like to think of giving monetary handouts as a righteous act.

On the other hand, there is the common sense view which many (or perhaps most) of us were raised with--people begging for handouts on the street need money for booze and/or drugs; or, at the very least, they are lazy fools who could just as easily take orders at McDonald’s as they take handouts at State and Madison (to paraphrase Michael Jordan’s provocative anecdote).

Sometimes this common sense view is confirmed in comically obvious ways--such as the case of the young man (in the prime of his life, no kidding) who trudges through traffic daily at the same intersection, year-round, with a sign that says “Please help me, God bless you.” It would seem obvious to everyone except the man himself that his daily activity is both strenuous and risky--and the honest occupation of coalminer would not only fulfill both of these criteria, but it would also yield a steady paycheck and a peaceful intersection. Yet there he is, and there he remains to this day.

But some hobos are convincing (and, no doubt, some are completely kosher). But that’s just the problem--the stakes in this game are higher than they seem. As wonderful as it is to help a man in honest need, that’s how horrible an act it is to give money to an addict. In such a case, we are actively assisting a destructive habit-- bringing the poor soul one step closer to oblivion! If that’s charity, then I missed something in Sunday school.

The point is, we cannot just give money to people. We might be doing them a huge disservice, far greater than ignoring or refusing them, in doing so. The risk of someone’s life is too great to play around with. Heartless as it sounds, there is no other way.

So here’s the question: why is it so hard to refuse? A recent situation forced me to face the issue once and for all. I was walking to the car after eating a wonderful lunch with my Mom, when a man in a heavy coat (in retrospect I should’ve known, but I didn’t take a good look at it at first) asked me if I could spare a few dollars for gas (in retrospect I should’ve known how many holes there were in that kind of story, but remember? by this time I was already in idiot mode). Hmm. I had about 4 seconds to respond…what to say? I wasn’t actually going to give him any money--most of the money in my wallet was borrowed from my Mom and was not mine to give--and regardless of that, I didn’t want to risk a theft. No question there. I wouldn't give him any money. But how to say no? I hummed and hawed for a moment, then rattled off some lame excuse about my Mom having all the money. Feeling slightly shameful (which I’m now ashamed to admit), I parted by saying “I hope you find some, though.” Then I realized that I was in the presence of an angel.
No, it wasn’t the panhandler. That’s how it usually gets shown in movies, I grant you (and Hebrews 13:2 should by no means be taken lightly), but in real life it was the exact reverse for me--the angel took the form of a blond-haired female passerby of about 35, who brazenly addressed him after my comment by saying “And I also hope you find somewhere to work, because you come here to beg every day!” I got into the car and processed what I’d just seen. First, I couldn’t believe that woman’s guts--I didn’t know they made people that confident anymore. I admired that. It was also at that moment when I realized the thinness of the hobo’s request, and the absurdity of the shame I’d felt. To have the man’s chicanery exposed with such blunt words of witness was like a blow to the head--except it felt great. My illusions were gone!

I say that that woman was an angel, because she lifted the wool of ignorance and deceit from my eyes so that I could see the truth within this one isolated situation. In seeing the truth, I realized that my shame was totally unwarranted--the man was proven to be a con-artist! Even if he had been on the level, shame would not have been a good response. I had my reasons not to give, and that should be enough for anyone--especially myself! I knew then and there that a confident response of “no” would have sufficed, and would have been the proper way to retain my dignity (which, the way I see it, I flushed down the toilet in this situation).
Most important of all, it should be realized that the only proper attitude of a panhandler ought to be one of the sincerest and humblest entreaty. Money, after all, is not easily earned in this world, and to receive it as a free gift from a stranger is not only a rare, but almost a miraculous occurrence. Shaking a cup, or halfheartedly muttering “God bless you” just doesn’t cut it for me. A panhandler ought to realize the flabbergasting fortune of his situation, notwithstanding his dire straits--he is alive, and (in most cases) possesses the opportunity to interact with the wider world (an opportunity widely sought-after in lonely nursing home rooms and hospital beds across the world). Seriously. They have no place asking someone else for a handout, so they ought to be amazed and overjoyed at the mere fact that anyone even responds to them. At presstime, such behavior has not yet been observed in any hobo. And as for me: Shame? Are you kidding me? Well, I know one thing: I wasn’t kidding when I acted like a fool in that parking lot.

I realized that day, thanks to the intervention of the “angel” (who actually happened to be a salon stylist who worked in the same complex where I’d been dining, and so was privy to the hobo’s daily occupation in the parking lot), that my weakness happened to be hobos. And unlike Superman, my weakness was dissolved with a simple and conscious act of the will (along with some more in-depth reflection…evidenced by this blog post). From now on, if I am accosted by a panhandler, I will not give them money, and will be proud of it. If I respond to them, it will be to say, quite simply, “No.” I simply will not. If I am ill-judged at the end of time for adopting this stance, I will hang my head in remorse before my Lord--and without a doubt, my shame will be justified. But I’m betting against that ending. I think a weakness has been obliterated--and that’s good enough for me!

2 Letters to the Editor

2009-11-23T13:57:00.003-06:00

"The wise man speaks because he has something to say. The fool speaks because he has to say something." —Plato

I was eating lunch at the University Student Center today and was graced by the presence of a silent procession of self-righteousness—a group of four students stalked through the dining area wearing poster-sized signs. These signs proclaimed the angst of various minority groups through single-sentence statements about their troubles. I tend to feel a negative gut-reaction toward these types of people; given the opportunities they're afforded at a university, you would think they could find better ways to spend their time than carrying around signs—particularly signs stating ideologies that most of their student audience already receives in class, anyway. What was most striking about these people, though—far more than the usual protest's lack of effectiveness—was their lack of a purpose. What exactly were they protesting against? I soon began formulating a letter I could write to the student paper pointing this out. It was going to go something like this:

"I encountered the epitome of self-righteous self-centeredness today at the University Center. Protesters silently walked the dining rooms, proclaiming messages that no one asked to hear, with no clear purpose. The question they evidently needed to hear was 'Why are you saying all this?' How sad it is that such people are devoting their vast capabilities as human beings toward such vain and useless endeavors; they are rebels without a cause, whose deepest allegiance is not to any cause, but the projections of their own image."

Yes. Then I thought for a few more minutes, and another mental letter formulated in my mind, this letter not addressed to the student newspaper, but to myself:

"You encountered the epitome of self-righteous self-centeredness today at the University Center. You started writing a letter about those protesters—a letter proclaiming a message that no one asked to hear, and with no clear purpose. The question you need to hear is not 'Why are you saying all this,' but 'What makes you think people care?' How sad it would be if a person like you devoted his vast capabilities as a human being toward such a vain and useless endeavor; you would be a rebel without a cause, whose deepest allegiance is not to any cause, but the projections of his own image."

I knew it was either one letter or the other. And seeing the choice of what kind of person I could be laid out before me so neatly, I promptly chose the latter letter. Thank God!

Courage to Disagree Grants Ability to See

2009-11-04T23:57:00.001-06:00

I recently heard the argument put forth that the early Church permitted female priests, but that this changed at the Council of Nicea. A corollary premise to this theory (which is becoming more absurd and outlandish even as I restate it here) is that Scripture recounts a lack of female leadership in the Church because the writings were gathered by men who wished to preserve their own religious authority.

This view makes a fundamental logical error. It assumes that Church leadership was dominated by males who “rewrote history” in order to exclude the female leaders. But the whole point of the argument was to expose the fiction of the male-dominated Church leadership! Either the Church was dominated by males, who rewrote history, or it was not--in which case the males wouldn’t have been powerful enough to rewrite history. Think about it for a moment; if such a deception were to take place, would there not be a single shred of evidence testifying to such a fact? There is nothing; no ancient traditions, no textual testimonies, nothing.

Furthermore, are we to believe that, in this imaginary situation, not one man stood with these oppressed female priests? Such unanimity of opinion is rather striking…and rather unbelievable.

The only possible impetus for pursuing this as a hypothesis is wishful thinking. And the fact that logic, history, and common sense mount a screaming testimony against it is a rather strong justification for rejecting it as absurd.

Esse Amari Deo Est

2009-10-26T12:58:00.005-05:00

It was a gray October day, around lunchtime. I had reached the part of my daily routine which involved walking, and so I was. My eyes scanned the faces of the people I passed, looking hopefully for a friend or acquaintance to greet or talk to. I longed for company, but found no familiarity to converse with. Then things got strange.

Suddenly, I was in a blank white room. Although I had just been walking outside, I was suddenly seated in a comfortable chair at a high table. Across the table there sat a man, somewhat familiar looking, despite a startling appearance.

He was clothed in a deep purple robe and had shoulder-length white hair, which matched the wispy curls that covered his face, in a picturesque mustache and beard. His look reminded me of old paintings of Socrates or even of God (the kind that are painted on the ceilings of old churches), but there was one notable difference: his nose was not nearly as pointy as all of those old depictions tend to show it.

The upshot of this rounded, almost knobby schnoz was that this man, whether he was God or Socrates, looked far less stern than his other characteristics would lead you to expect. He actually looked quite a bit like Santa Claus on a diet (I was pretty sure that wasn't who he was, though).

In fact, very soon after my strange transportation, I was sure that wasn't who he was. He said to me, in a voice so jolly it made Santa Claus look like Bobby Knight,

"Hello, Joe!"

Considering how sudden and odd this change of circumstances was, I actually accepted it all rather quickly. Without much of a pause, I responded:

"Hi!"

It was a happy response, given in good cheer, because there was something about this guy's demeanor, a sort of silent energy, that was contagious. And he spoke English. I quickly ruled out Socrates.

"I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here," he stated matter of factly, but with just as much light-hearted mirth as his greeting.

"Well, yeah--I certainly am," I responded, "but I'm also curious--who are you?"

"Who am I? Well, you're not the first to ask that question, but the full answer would take a little longer than you might realize, so...let's shorten it up by saying that there is one word which would point you toward who I am. Would you care to hazard a guess at what that word is?"

"God?"

"Yes! Such a wonderful boy, you are! I am God."

"It's nice to finally see You face to face!"

"Well, you're not really seeing Me face to face. If you truly saw Me face to face, things would be a little more intense than they are right now. Think of this as a vision."

"Okay." I sat expectantly, waiting for the vision to continue.

Nothing happened. God just sat there, staring at me, smiling.

I stared back, and realized that this His eyes were the most arresting thing about Him. I've heard the eye described as the "window to the soul," but I never really understood how much of a window it can be until I saw His eyes. The longer I stared, the deeper those piercing jewels became, telling stories, stories of woe leading to redemption and ending in joy, all without words, without images. It was fascinating, sort of a unified magnification of all the eyes I'd ever looked into, but with something more added, Something huge and full of energy and love. Suddenly the silence was broken by His voice:

"You never have to feel lonely, you know."

His words surprised me. The deep joy in His voice was overlaid now with a measure of concern, which may have been there the whole time, but was more noticeable now.

It took me by surprise, but I knew exactly what I wanted to say to Him. Not angrily, but with a genuine thirst for understanding, I asked:

"If I don't need to feel lonely, why have I felt that way? If You are so close, how come I never heard You speak back to me?"

"I tried. But you can't talk to someone if they aren't willing to listen.
So many times like today...you walked, thinking you were alone."

There was something in how He spoke and looked at me, something so close to every memory I had, bringing up days and feelings long past, things that even I had forgotten about--all at once, vivid as life itself, and with such understanding and compassion, but mixed with a sense of painful incompleteness, that tears welled up in my eyes. I had been hit full force with the melancholy of memory.

I found words.

"You were there the whole time. I knew it, but not like this. I didn't realize...I'm sorry."

He didn't acknowledge the apology, but responded:

"I have spoken to you all of your life. I have spoken to you through my Word. I have spoken to you through your family's love. I have spoken to you in all the times of joy. I have spoken to you in the leaves of Fall and the snows of Winter, the warm breeze of Spring and the cool rain of Summer. I have spoken to you in every moment of inspiration you've ever had. I have spoken to you by creating you. I have spoken in many ways, even many ways which you cannot yet understand, but my message has always been the same. Do you know what that message is?"

He didn't have to ask, but He did. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I responded:

"I love you." The light in the room was getting brighter with our every word. I sensed things were coming to an end.

"Yes! I love you, too! Above all, remember that! And tell everyone you meet that I love them, too!"

My vision was fading as the light expanded, brighter and brighter, into a world of True Light, and when I could see no more--my eyes shut tightly,

and I was back on the ground outside.

My eyes were fine. My face was dry. Nothing on the outside had changed, it seemed; but the first thing I saw was a tree whose yellow fire matched the blazing of my own heart, and so I pressed on toward my destination.

Phone Home

2009-10-11T20:06:00.009-05:00

Have you ever felt like life just played a prank on you? The times I speak of are the nuisances of life, the times that leave us thinking, "Now why did things have to happen like that? It could just as easily have happened this way..." And we follow such thoughts with daydreams about what could have been—ordinarily the most useless type of daydream there is. Nonetheless, life plays its pranks, and sometimes through no fault of our own we find ourselves stuck in a situation we do not want, and would give much to change.

Today in my job as the church's weekend receptionist, I received a call from a wonderful woman whose calm but thoughtful manner at once caught me off-guard and brought me to my most alert senses. Perhaps you have met such people. Perhaps, bless your heart, you are one. They are the rarest of breeds, but perennially the type of person this world most needs. They speak slowly and deliberately, but their manner lacks not an ounce of confidence. They seldom stutter or stop in the middle of a sentence, for the simple reason that they are sure of what they want to say before they start saying it. And unlike the rest of the huddled masses, they are not afraid of pauses in conversation.

Such a one was this woman, whose first response to my inquiry of "Can I help you?" was "I don't know!" Such an exchange perfectly typifies this kind of person. Rather than play by the common social rules (rules which nonetheless remain useful and beneficial in most cases), this person retains a measure of perspective and sees society for the game that it is, and thus chooses when to play and when to sit out and make up their own rules. Such people are always needed by a society because they remind the rest of us that we belong to a social system, an order of sorts, yes; but that the system is not what we answer to, ultimately—that there is Something higher than the human structures we have implemented throughout history. Such people inspire us to question the system, to examine it, and perhaps to better align it with what we know is right. Yesterday's civil rights crusaders and Abolitionists, to use a popular example of the day, aligned America's practice with its inspired theory, and it all started with people asking questions (and, perhaps, responding to questions) in ways which no one had previously had the moral courage to do—taking their example, of course, from a well-known Nazorean of a prior epoch, who specialized in moral courage.

But back to the tale at hand—a wonderful woman called in who, despite being 79 years old, had the voice, demeanor, and conversational pizazz of a 25 year old. After telling me that she would call the church back later in the week (the priest she wanted to talk to was not available), she asked my my name and then began regaling me with a personal story involving St. Joseph. As is known to happen at this job, another call came ringing in on the other phoneline—just as she was reaching the conclusion of her story (as I recall, it had been a very good story, to boot). I wanted to wait on the second call and finish speaking with her first, but I had waited too long already—a moment more, and the second caller would be diverted to the answering machine, a definite no-no for an on-duty receptionist. Siezing on a momentary pause in the woman's speech, I asked her if she could hold on a moment while I answered another call. This proved a worthy decision, because the other caller was requesting Last Rites for a dying family member. It also proved a disappointing decision, because as I took care of the 2nd caller, I noticed that, after about 3 minutes of waiting, the wonderful storytelling woman had hung up or been disconnected. I hadn't been able to hear the finish of her story, or say a proper good-bye; I also didn't get her name or number, with which I might call her back.

So there I was, unable to contact her, and left with the anxiety of wondering whether she thought I had just ditched her. Why did this bother me so much? I believe it was the pinchy feeling of broken camaraderie, the tragedy of a "beautiful friendship" that never begins, the ironic nuisance of a misunderstanding which causes alienation where unity would otherwise reign easily. I had been brimming with good intentions, but the click of a phone had rendered them homeless. So life had its prank, and I was left scratching my head.

Why do such things happen? It would have been so easy for that second call to have come in just five minutes later. Five minutes! Did God not see that? Does He not see all of these things, our better alternatives to what we call reality? The only answer, of course, is that He does—He sees them more clearly than we possibly could, and clearly enough to know that they are not better. Realizing this and resting in the truth it provided, I set about guessing what I was supposed to learn from this situation.

This woman had had an effect on me, and despite the abrupt and disappointing end to our interaction, the effect remained—and it constituted the first lesson—calm down. Speak deliberately. Mean what you say. Don't be afraid of the other person as you talk to them, but look on them with compassion, the lowly, fraternal kind of compassion that only a fellow creature can know. Conversation is a connection, not a performance. It is ideas being traded, not lines being read. And all the petty templates we follow for how to interact with each other, they are all just suggestions, and it is no sin to break such guidelines. Great things have been started in that way.

Now after remembering those wonderful ideas, I naturally felt better. In fact, as is the way of things when we follow such adages as the aforementioned, I began to feel a creeping sensation that I was not alone—by which I mean, I began to notice the presenc of God, in later conversations as well as in all the beautifully silent spaces of solitude, those blessed places in which Thoreau dwelt devotedly for so many peaceful days and nights.

This feeling of a Presence at once visible and invisible, beautiful and elusive, made me realize yet again the true relationship of a Catholic to the Church. This recognition of divine Presence in a drab and empty office hallway reminded me that all of our ceremony, all of our decoration and tradition, is designed to bring about Christ's Presence in the world. We can so easily get caught up in devotion to the institution of the Church, and in doing so we turn away from that noble body's humble mission—to help keep Christ present and active in the world until He Himself returns in His full glory. Many people today attack the Church and its ideas and mission, but if we fight them back on the grounds of defending the Church, rather than the ideas and mission which give it purpose, we are idolizing a body of disciples, starting our own heresy, so to speak—a heresy of such implosive orthodoxy that it threatens to topple the Church from within. No, the true Catholic loves the Church, and fights alongside it or within it, but not for it. The Church itself doesn't even do that.

We don't know the ultimate purposes behind God's actions in this world, but we do know how we are called to respond—take the best out of each situation, and work with it until we have forged something better. We can take confidence, even amidst apparent disappointments, that God is not our enemy—He knows what He is doing, and there will be a day when we can see how everything in this human drama worked together to bring about the fulfillment and triumph of all that is truly good. Perhaps on that day, I will finally catch up with this blessed woman again, and we will have all the time we need to share stories and listen, relaxing in the abundant Presence and sweet Love of the God Who saved us.

Do You Have a Minute?

2009-09-29T15:38:00.006-05:00

"Hey buddy—" he seemed friendly enough, so I inquiringly glanced at him as I drew near, and he continued—"Do you have a minute…to support gay marriage?"

With my short answer of "No thanks" he looked at me like I'd murdered his puppy. I walked on. What else was there to do?

As I entered the library I thought about this situation, and how absurd his position was. He and so many like him choose to define themselves by a movement, by a label, perhaps by certain behaviors. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, but if someone expresses an opinion against their movement, their label, their behaviors, it's no longer a reasoned position—it has become personal. Judging from the grave and disbelieving way that he looked at me, I have no doubt that he believed (as his movement has taught him to) that I hate him.

How could I hate such a man? My heart bleeds for him and for all those others like him who sell themselves short every day, sacrificing their individuality and their gifts for the sake of a temporal movement that is misguided and unnatural. I pray that they will have the wisdom to see the world from outside their own shallow and self-centered perspectives—a big step we all must take—and see themselves as agents of goodness in a world gone awry. How will gay marriage feed the hungry? How will it give purpose to the broken and dejected, how will it bring about peace in a world that is perennially on the brink of unprecedented destruction?

Do you have a minute? Say a prayer for such people today, if you can. But be sure also to pray for those in need of food, water, and shelter, and those in need of God's Love. That ought to cover all of us.

The Entry Where I Spoil Matchstick Men (I’m serious)

2009-09-07T03:12:00.003-05:00

I am currently experiencing one of those splendid and rarefied spans of moments of complete confidence and sheer inspiration. If I may borrow one of J.K. Rowling’s best ideas without glorifying her too much, I have just drunk a bottle of Felix Felicis. I see the path of life drawn out before me; and though the route is as unclear as ever, I do possess the two real essentials to a successful journey; the first is a goal, which I have had for years, thanks to the Catholic religion I was born into and have embraced as the Truth. The second essential, bestowed upon me yet again by divine inspiration, is the more elusive, as it involves more than just a willful leap of faith and devotion. The second is the modus operandi, the method of working—which, God bless it, comes out from behind the clouds of uncertainty every now and then to shine its light upon us.

I just finished watching the movie Matchstick Men. It tells a tale of loss, illusion, and redemption, and reminds us that if we keep our noses clean (morally as well as legally), we never have to worry about much. It tells us the tale of an expert of deception who has nonetheless kept a portion of his soiled soul spotless, a man who receives a life-shattering dose of his own medicine when he is taken in by several who do not share his scrappy scruples, and thus have a slight edge in the crafty craft of con-artistry. In the end, Roy’s decency is what destroys him, or at least what he assumed was “him.” What we find out, in the crucial moments at his ex-wife’s door, when the depth of the deception finally hits home, is that—although his life lies in a shambles, with almost no money, no worldly credentials, and no real family—he is just fine. Indeed, as Roy himself iterates with a fledgling but hopeful confidence, “everything’s all right.” Out of the ashes of the two-bit Phoenix that was Roy’s former life as a con-man, we see the real Roy rise up; the Roy who forced himself to rationalize his spoils as “given, not taken,” the Roy who “never used violence,” the Roy who reached out to the nice checkout lady at the supermarket, like a withered plant inclining toward cracks of light through closed rafters. That is what carried Roy through to the end of his sinful life, and that, we finally see, is what carries him into the bright future. In the epilogue scene at the carpet store where Roy has built a clean livelihood, his brief meeting and parting with his “daughter” shows us that he has overcome any ill will which he might have held against his looters. We see a man who is free to fly because, in the words of G.K. Chesterton, like the angels he “can take himself lightly.” Matchstick Men reminds us that nice guys do not finish last—they may wind up in last place, but they always have time to work out of the hole and regain the good they were made for.

I suppose this movie just reminded me to be confident. After watching it, I realize I am ready to begin the next schoolyear. I feel like I can do exactly what I’m supposed to do. I’m excited to face opportunities to stand up for what I believe in, to proudly be the person God wants me to be; to be open to new possibilities, but also open to the mere continuation of old realities.

“To be content with where I am,
Getting where I need to be,
And moving past the past where I have failed.”

I am excited to exercise the grace which God has blessed me with this summer, to let the spiritual discoveries of these months germinate and flower into strong trees of good work and wholesome habits in my sojourns with the wider world. I am looking forward to the future months so intensely, and that is why my highest hopes are fulfilled by actually being plopped right here, in this moment, several weeks before all those busy days begin. One might say it is the final exam of summer school. Conventional wisdom, and Catholic theology, say that the way we finish the journey is the strongest indication of how we conducted it. Finishing strong is the only true reflection of a strong performance.

Did I learn anything this summer? Ha! How could I not have? I acted like an idiot enough (and felt bad about it) to learn quite a bit about compassion, authenticity, and honesty. At the same time, I also worked hard to build myself up, and thus learned the blessing and strength of good habits (and the easy poison of bad ones). I felt the push of a noble purpose and a steamrolling confidence drawn solely from the divine team I’m playing for.

I guess what I am trying to say is that these final weeks are the final test of this current crop of moments, and a sort of runway into the year. If I run this final stretch well, I will be ready to run the whole year. If I stumble, I may not get back up until next June. Spiritually speaking, that’s a long time down, way longer than I can afford.

So here I leave you, as always, at a crossroads; my decisions in the next few weeks will decide my ultimate destiny, of that I am sure. But then again, is that ever not the case?

Signing off with love and prayers for you,
Joezilla

Random Thoughts

2009-08-25T22:29:00.005-05:00

In the tradition of the great Thomas Sowell (see Townhall.com), I present a rather diminuitive collection of "Random Thoughts." Enjoy!
1. We are not "being ourselves" when we are at our best. Is that surprising? I had always believed and professed that the best thing a person can do is to find out who they are, and then "be themself." But it's not quite the best way of being. We should not spend our energy trying to "be ourselves." Anyone can do that.
We are wise instead to devote our soul's vast energies toward being the one God wants us to be--then we are accountable, accountable to someone outside our own selves, and then we can fulfill our purpose as human beings. And that is to glorify God through prayer and right action.

2. One of the most compelling practical inspirations for being the best you can be in every moment is the unconscious vigilance of the young, who are still works in progress. Another inspiration is the reluctant vigilance of the many experienced but still unfinished characters who walk this earth. Inspire.

3. Our attitude toward the world (and strangers) should be, in the words of G.K. Chesterton, "humble enough to wonder [at], and haughty enough to defy." Personal experience will bear this out. Try it.

4. The success of a person's endeavors rests largely on their ability to act well under pressure. These are times of trial, and they require firm and predetermined control of mind and body. In other words, they require the preparation of a life of virtue.

5. "Certainly the most sagacious creeds may suggest that we should pursue God into deeper and deeper rings of the labyrinth of our own ego. But only we of Christendom have said that we should hunt God like an eagle upon the mountains; and we have killed all monsters in the chase" (G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy). Are you looking in or striking out in search? What monsters do you have to kill before you find Him?

6. "We are one choice from together." --tobyMac, City On Our Knees

Citizen Mundane

2009-08-12T01:12:00.008-05:00

This is not a case of The Emperor’s New Clothes. What I mean to say is that Citizen Kane is a good movie--artistically speaking, a great movie. To anyone with a strong knowledge of the history and craft of filmmaking, perhaps it could understandably be the greatest movie ever made or released. But to an Average Joe like me (and you, if I may assume that someone reads this), it is not a masterpiece. It left me feeling unresolved, questioning, curious. These are not bad feelings to have after a movie (and I have reason to believe they are exactly the feelings Orson Welles wished to evoke in audiences), but they are not the feelings left in the wake of the best movies. The best movies leave viewers feeling inspired--they show examples of heroism, exciting and empowering. Citizen Kane does not show us heroism. It shows us snippets of the life story of a very warped, very rich man--a man warped by his riches. We see glimpses of people who knew the man, but we don’t see much to admire.
The film’s strongest proponents, no doubt, would point to its open-endedness as one of its great assets. What is the significance of this or that object, they might ask. Anyone can guess at the million meanings of every scene, every line, every camera angle; the film's enduring strength, then, lies in the amount of thought it provokes. Indeed, Citizen Kane is a puzzle, if I may borrow a symbol from the movie itself, a puzzle purposely left unfinished. Discussions could abound after a group viewing, and many would sound like high-school literature class, with various expositions on the meaning of a chair or the symbolism of someone's hat. Such celluloid enigmas can lead to entertaining and worthwhile late-night discussions in the living room. Lack of resolution, then, is not Kane's chief weakness, and actually lends it much of its luster. Its true problem is the decided lack of a compelling message. For the sake of those who have not seen Citizen Kane, I will not state this message here (assuming, of course, that some constituent of this blog’s questionably-existent audience has not seen it). This omission is not a problem, though, because the final lines and scenes of the film broadcast the message quite loud and clear.

The point is, this message is the culmination of the film, the main idea which all of Welles’ technical and artistic effort has strained (quite successfully) to convey. Unfortunately, the message is nothing extraordinary. It’s the sort of conclusion that one might arrive at after fifteen minutes of quiet contemplation on a summer evening. More than anything else, it is an observation, and a prosaic one at that. It’s as if someone were to pour a mountain of money into an extensive advertising campaign in order to broadcast to the world the slogan “When I stub my toe, sometimes the nail gets broken.” Few would deny it. It would not set off philosophical debates about the nature of podiatric injuries and pain perception. But many would (I hope) wonder a simple question: Why not say something deeper?
Citizen Kane is for cinema what Charlie Parker is for jazz music--justly-admired for technical mastery, somewhat lacking in a worthwhile message, and nearly-worshipped by aficionados, a reverence which has seeped into the culture at large.

Best Western (not a movie review!)

2009-07-25T00:28:00.008-05:00

El Dorado is one of the best westerns there is. I like westerns. I like them because they teach me about life and how to live it. Here is how they do it.

First off, westerns tell stories of good and evil. They are complex tales of a simple conflict—just like life on this planet. No western is ever simple. In fact, the best ones place their heroes in unthinkably harrowing physical and moral dilemmas, often pitting survival against a principle. If you were sheriff of a fledgling western town, the one everyone looked to for protection, would you risk your life to fight a gang of outlaws for the sake of the town? What if your family’s lives were at stake? What if you could pay the outlaws money to go on to the next town? Would you do it? Here is what is great about westerns—they not only show us conflict between good and evil, but they show us what heroes do when placed in those conflicts. They show us the true courage, the selfless sort of bravery that risks life and limb to protect men and morals alike. This is a state of mind that is sorely missing in today’s society, and I sometimes fear we are losing our ability to even recognize it when we see it.

That is one reason westerns are great—they show us great evil vanquished by determined heroes in emotionally-charged settings. They call us to be heroes.
Secondly, westerns often demonstrate another often neglected value, that of common sense. How does John Wayne know that there are gunmen hiding outside the saloon? It’s not that unrealistic; he has experienced similar situations and observed carefully, and he has the presence of mind to apply those lessons to his current situation. If only we could be as on the ball as John Wayne’s characters are! How great we would be, how effective our lives would become, if we would only remind ourselves more often of the great truth—if we don’t act on what we learn, the knowledge does us no good at all.

John Wayne’s seemingly invincible characters preserve their lives by yet another valid real-world conviction—it is entirely okay, and sometimes praiseworthy, to not trust someone at all. Some people cannot be trusted; to trust such no-accounts, particularly with one’s or another’s life, contradicts Christ’s command in Matthew 7: "Do not give what is holy to dogs, or throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot, and turn and tear you to pieces.”
To continue this digressive focus on John Wayne, his characters are never ashamed of themselves. This unconquerable confidence may be aided by the Duke’s imposing 6’4½” stature, but ladies and gents of all shapes and sizes have something to learn from him. The size of the dog in the fight, as they say, is not nearly as important as the size of the fight in the dog. Such a maxim ought to remind us that Wayne’s stature was largely (no pun intended) irrelevant to his imposing presence. After all, a 7 foot weenie will not make as big a splash as a 5 foot dynamo. The frame of the physical puppet which we command is only as good as the artist pulling the strings.

But back to the matter at hand, Wayne never feels shame. Why is this? Well, I see two reasons. First, he is confident, in the most admirable and exemplary way—he knows what’s right, and he stands for it, unwaveringly. Secondly, he does all the right things. In short, he has the right to be confident!
On to our final point—westerns, like life, find their biggest turning points in split-second decisions and acts of quick thinking. In any good western, the hero will eventually be called upon to make a huge decision in mere seconds, perhaps one solitary second. How can someone make the right choice when put on the spot? For someone who fails such a fast-paced test, could we not give them the benefit of the doubt, could we not assume that they would take the right action, if only given more time to think? Whether or not we could be so generous matters not at this moment—what matters is that life rarely offers us such drawn-out dilemmas!

Decisions of destiny are made on the spot, under pressure. In order to make them well, we need to train ourselves to have presence of mind, just like John Wayne and all the other good cowboys do. Theodore Roosevelt, that great spirit who once lived a true cowboy’s life in the real West, when it was actually Wild, wisely said that “In any moment of decision the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” Presence of mind and right thinking under pressure are key to a good life. Westerns cannot teach us this—the practice courts of everyday life are far better suited to this than any feature film—but they can inspire us to practice in everyday life. And perhaps, with regular inspiration and even more regular practice, we will join the ranks of those great spirits who, in Roosevelt’s words, can “quell the storm and ride the thunder.”

Surprise, Surprise

2009-07-19T01:34:00.002-05:00

What makes a surprise surprising? The reason a surprise is surprising is because it means that something happened which we were not thinking about before it happened. In other words, surprises are surprising because they are unexpected.

This may seem an obvious observation (in the 90s it might have elicited a “Duh!” or even the more aggressive “No-Duh!” response), but it carries with it some significant implications about our daily lives.

How many times a day are we surprised? I mean real, absolute surprises, the kind that throw off your concentration or, in some cases, make you jump. How many times a day do they come? Once? Twice? Maybe, on a particularly action-packed day, five or ten times, tops?

I know what you’re thinking. “Get to the point, you raving lunatic! I only happened upon this blog by chance, and your time is up! Stimulate my mind and/or spirit, or I’m clicking the ‘Back’ button and getting out of here!”

Well, fear not, for here is the crux of the matter. We are surprised when something happens which was not previously in our mind, when something unexpected happens. We further concluded that approximately .1% of daily happenings are surprises. That means that 99.9% of daily happenings are things that we were thinking about prior to their occurrence!

So the point is this: think carefully. Thought is a life-changing power. Depending on how it is used, it will make or break you. Use it wisely, and life will be a joy.

For further reading (and there are few more edifying books than these), please consult As A Man Thinketh by James Allen, and The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale. Either book will be enough to begin a monumental period of change and improvement in your life. I guarantee it.

If you think about disaster, you will get it. Brood about death and you hasten your demise. Think positively and masterfully, with confidence and faith, and life becomes more secure, more fraught with action, richer in achievement and experience. (Edward Rickenbacker)

"Thinking on these things,"
Joezilla

An excerpt from G.K. Chesterton’s Tales of The Long Bow

2009-07-18T23:45:00.002-05:00

“All our battles began as jokes and they will end as jokes,” said Owen Hood, staring at the smoke of his cigar as it threaded its way towards the sky in grey and silver arabesque. “They will linger only as faintly laughable legends, if they linger at all; they may pass an idle hour or fill an empty page; and even the man who tells them will not take them seriously. It will all end in smoke like the smoke I am looking at; in eddying and topsy-turvy patterns hovering for a moment in the air. And I wonder how many, who may smile or yawn over them, will realize that where there was smoke there was fire.”

P.S.: Read “The Improbable Success of Mr. Owen Hood” from this book. As a standalone story, it is wonderful.

Bright Lights

2009-07-18T22:56:00.002-05:00

I once saw a girl who had a brilliant light shining around her, which followed her wherever she went. I was fascinated and attracted by this light, so I started to follow her.

After a little while, she turned around, looked me in the eye, and said “Why are you following me?”

“Well,” I answered, “you see, there’s this beautifully bright light that’s always shining on you, and I just want to get a better look. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“Really? Then I guess you never realized that you have the same kind of light shining on you.”

I looked down at myself hesitantly, and realized that she was right. I thanked her and turned around. What I saw then surprised me even more.

A crowd of people stood behind me, evidently having followed me around for much of the day. They were all staring at the light, the light that I now knew had been shining down on me all my life. What was odd, though, was that they all had the same kind of light on them—they just didn’t seem to know it.

So I walked toward them and began telling each one of them that the light was shining on them, too. And it was as I did this that I realized I had discovered my life’s purpose.

Pity Party

2009-07-18T22:51:00.003-05:00

Have you ever felt so intensely sorry for someone that you felt like you would burst with pity? Some people’s problems and predicaments, or even just their very selves, can be so sorrowful, so sorely in need of compassion and help, yet it seems that there is nothing you can do to help them.

As it turns out, there is something you can do. If you are a Christian, you can pray for them. In prayer we take all our thoughts and deeds, our very identities, before God to lay them all at His feet. And it is no different with emotions. Emotions are powerful trademarks of the human family, and I cannot help but believe that such intense phenomena are not only heard by God, but understood and acted upon in some way.

Jesus knew this feeling better than any of us ever have. Mark tells us in his wonderful Gospel that Jesus’ heart “was moved with pity” for a large crowd, “for they were like sheep without a shepherd” (6:34). This happened to be the very same crowd for which he later multiplied the loaves and fishes. As God made human, Jesus understood pity more than we even do, as He looked out on the poor lost sheep he had created, sheep who bungle their purpose and squander their delicate but powerful lives. They needed the nourishment of Spirit and Body, and this is what He came to give them.

There’s a lesson here for those of us caught in the throes of true pity—call on the power of God to help those whom you pity. There is no greater power than God’s, and prayer is our access to Him. When we surrender such concerns to Him Who once gazed upon our ancestors with a blazing and infinite pity, we may realize yet again how much He cares for everyone, and will take care of us all in time.

“Cast your worries upon Him because He cares for you.”
+1 Peter 5:7+

The Big Race

2009-06-27T21:52:00.002-05:00

Once there was a big race.

Three men lined up next to each other on the crowded starting line, excited to begin running.

At the gunshot that signaled the start, the three were off, as fast as bullets. They quickly distanced themselves from the rest of the contestants, as they were among the fastest runners present.

The first man couldn’t help but start thinking while he pounded his way alongside his fellows.
“I saw a girl running back there who looked absolutely beautiful,” he thought. “Perhaps I’m running this race to meet her. I’m not one to fool around with destiny—I’d better slow down so she can catch up.”

This he did, and he met the girl after just a few short minutes of deceleration and detection. She was a slow runner, but he was willing to limit his speed in order to keep pace with her. They had a pleasant conversation through the rest of the race, and when they finished it out they took a handy 12th place.

The second man, too, had seen an enticingly attractive lass at the start of the race. Hoping to meet her in the same manner as the first man, he began to slow down in order to reach the crowd of other runners and search for her. To his surprise, this action was unnecessary, because the very girl he’d spied at the onset of the race then came surging ahead of the pack, soon catching up to the second man, who had already begun slowing down.

It is a pity that he had done this, because the pleasant conversation that ensued could just as easily have been carried out at the vanguard of the race—for these two people happened to be the fastest and ablest runners of all. Neither knew this of the other, though, so they finished together in a mediocre 10th place.

The third man, alone at the front of the pack, didn’t think very much during the race, or at least tried not to. Although an imperfect runner, he knew the secret to success in running, which is also the secret to success in anything else—focus solely on the goal, pouring heart and soul into its achievement. He executed this principle to the best of his ability.

His concentration, too, was flawed and fallible. He fell prey to distraction in the form of a familiar or intriguing face, a memorable piece of scenery, or a peculiar sensation.

But for this, too, he had concocted a counteraction: he had resolved beforehand to remind himself of his goal every time he saw a tree—and this was no rare occurrence, considering that he lived in a temperate inland climate!

So it was that our “little engine that could” puffed his way at the front of the pack, muttering to himself near-constant reminders of his goal, when he spied an odd sight in the road ahead of him, something he had not seen for the entirety of the race—namely, another runner.

This runner happened to be a girl, and happened to be a beautiful girl, at that. Although physically appealing, her beauty lay more deeply in her presence than any particular physical attribute. The mere idea of her, as a romantic might put it, was what attracted this man the most—the mere idea that there was another so focused and driven as to reach his position…and, he suddenly realized, to swiftly overtake him!

With a startled determination, the man redoubled his efforts and surged forward—not to catch up with the girl, but to reach the finish line as quickly and skillfully as possible, devoting all his craft and energy toward that goal. He soon overtook her.

His feminine challenger seemed not disheartened, but somehow inspired by the man’s energetic surge ahead, and thus there began an epic whirlwind of back-and-forth, action against action, as each racer would pull ahead, be superseded by the other, and then regain the lead once more. It was in the middle of this cycle that the finish line was crossed.

The results were indisputable; both racers had crossed the line at the exact same instant. They had tied for first place. Afterward, the two enjoyed a victory celebration of ice cream and milkshakes, which would subsequently be recognized as the first of many dates leading up to a long and happy marriage.

* * *

One might be tempted, like that first man, to say that those two had run the race in order to meet one another. They themselves would testify, however, until the day they died (within the same hour of one another, as it happened), that they each ran that race solely to finish it, and not just to finish it, but to finish it in the best way they knew they were capable of.

Footed Flowers

2009-06-27T21:47:00.003-05:00

Now I know why I’ve been told that things flower—
in joy is their beauty,
their strength is their duty—
All goodness united to show forth God’s power.

Beings of harmony shine like a flower—
the splendor they carry
remains secondary—
Rejuvenation foundations this tower.

Monuments these, like all things here, sour;
But You Who transform us,
Please water and warm us,
And nurture the radiance of Your every flower.

The Record of Rhyme

2009-06-12T20:50:00.002-05:00

Cleaning out your backpack at the end of the schoolyear is like excavating relics at an archaeological dig. Here we encounter the record of a year past, artifacts that clue us into a way of life now extinct, lost forever to the sands of time. Here we see the notes that remind us that, yes, we were just as human then as we are now. And here we discover fragments of that really cool pen that got destroyed by the crushing weight of textbooks.

But what I unearthed today was actually quite a find, at least for me: fragments of poetry that were written at various points throughout the year. I reproduce them here, merely so that I don’t have to preserve a bunch of wrinkled scraps of paper. Enjoy!

Meditations on a Fake Spring Day
How humble is a tree?
It sits making shade,
not asking what time it might
come to our aid.
…
How patient is a tree?
Not worried to find
a tree like itself,
whose colors can bind,
and jointly in vistas
show glory from God—
How patient is a tree?
More patient than me.
…
Lord, grant me the wisdom
implanted of old,
in the vein of each leaf,
the bark’s every fold.

Why we dream
Dreams will make on weak—
Salvation’s earned through life, not mind—
But if I know not what I seek,
How can I truly find?

7 Sacraments (still a work in progress)
I.
Guided by a Hand unknown,
Water made a path from strife;
Always caring for Your own,
Now you lead us to Your Life.
II.
Food made from the fruit of Cain,
Humble, now exalted, saves:
Feed us Love no man can feign,
Making heroes out of knaves.
III.
Catalogues of human vices
Plague our souls in human state;
Your Self-emptied sacrifices
Prove no sin can be too great.

Sky High

2009-06-01T16:27:00.024-05:00

Shaun Groves has a wonderful song, "After the Music Fades," in which he declares, "I want to see from Your side of the sky." This line is a beautiful reminder for us to wake up and get moving. It gets right to the heart of perspective, and of everything we need to be.

It's tragically easy to get distracted in this life by the most insignificant things. Most of us spend the majority of our lives wrapped up in our own concerns, absorbed in the futile yet frequent ritual of worrying. And what do we worry about, typically? World hunger? Terrorism? The moral degeneration of western media? No—unless I'm a raving exception (and although I likely am raving, I don't believe I'm an exception), we're wasting our time thinking about unimportant, temporal things. I don't know about you, but I'm busy thinking about that paper I have to write, or that person that I want to meet for lunch, or any other of the many things I have to remember to do with the guy at the place. The point is, we're digging ourselves early graves, and here's the kicker—we don't have to be!

I remember being struck by a song in church earlier this year—unfortunately, the strike didn't really stick—that said "All around you, lives are broken, and Christ has no hands but yours!" I remember how surprised I was to hear such a seemingly pessimistic statement uttered in a church hymn. But on second glance, perhaps it is merely realistic. How many people do you know who are truly happy? I don't just mean they have what they want; I'm talking about true, consistent happiness, the kind of happiness that has transcended emotion and has become character, a scrappy, spirited happiness that is never down for long, and rarely gets down in the first place. How many like that are in your life? Maybe two or three? What does that say about the majority of people? In the midst of all the abundance of a country as prosperous as America, almost everyone you know is at least somewhat unhappy. That's tragic, and yet it's understandable. They're not unhappy for no reason. Their lives are broken. Life is so often filled with suffering. We don't talk about it much, because it's easier and less painful to keep it inside. But tragedy strikes in so many ways, every day. Happiness is a constant battle, and it is all too easy, and almost even understandable, to stop fighting for it, to extinguish the gleam of hope that glimmers in the eye of every hopeful soul.

And that's why those of us who have not been utterly ravaged by tragedy, as well as those who have been ravaged but have gotten up to fight on, must once again clarify our purpose and redouble our efforts. Lives are broken, and we need to fix them.

I know for a fact that I fell off the wagon this year. I lost perspective, and after getting so wrapped up in temporal ambitions and day-to-day goals, I found that, when perspective once again lit up the labyrinthine path of life, I had nearly forgotten this all-important mission, to repair the brokenness of the world through presence of mind, love of God, and love of neighbor. I know that I could have spared myself much unneeded and fruitless concern if I had only been mindful enough to remember that I'm not here to make friends, or to meet girls, or to eat my favorite foods. Although all of those things have their place at life's banquet table, the ultimate purpose for us here is to help one another meet God before it's all over, so that we don’t come to the end of this show and realize we never even talked to the Director.

That's why perspective is so important—it brings us back to the starting point, one might say the Origin, from which, for which, and through which we accomplish all good ends. My flash of enlightened perspective (for which I am still thanking God) was caused and is summed up by this excerpt from another church hymn, a versed adaptation of Isaiah 61:1 (which is also referenced in Luke 4:18):

The Spirit of the Lord is now upon me
To heal the broken heart and set the captives free
To open prison doors and make the blind to see
The Spirit of the Lord is now on me…

This, then, is our mission statement, for all those who truly believe. As Chris Rice says, "Go light your world!" It's up to you to make all things new. Remember to nurture that hopeful starlight that shines in your eyes, and one day it will once again meet its heavenly Source.

God Bless!

Joezilla

Battle Plans

2009-05-12T10:46:00.002-05:00

I set out here to gain the world
And pleasure that it brings,
And I became a boyish man,
Doing boyish things.

I longed for lofty destiny,
Ambitions fit for kings,
And I was humbled as a fool,
Forced to ponder things.

I swore to Heaven then and there
I'd strive to earn my wings,
To sing with joy the song within
That true to this day rings.

I sent my forces out to fight,
Endured ensuing stings,
And then discovered how it felt
To live for higher things.

I strove for vict'ry not for Man,
But God, for Whom Man sings,
And I became a little boy,
Doing manly things.

Lost Confidence In Yourself?

2009-04-23T10:25:00.002-05:00

It's when you sequester yourself from the people and things that tempt you to compromise your identity and principles that you are reminded of who you really are, what you really believe, and how your best self would act in any situation--thus in doing this, you become ready to face the world again.

If you ever feel unsure of your motivations, get away from the things that make you unsure. Then, when you have recovered your sanity, you are ready to go back into the world--but now you can trust in your own inner compass, and not second-guess your motivations for doing the right thing.

God bless!
Joezilla

Certain Glitters

2009-03-23T01:51:00.002-05:00

“Aim at Heaven and you will get Earth thrown in. Aim at Earth and you get neither.”
—C.S. Lewis

The patient Father
Of this dust,
You’ve told the Truth
Since times of old;
And still I need
Your help to trust,
And lay down tin
In search of Gold.

Man Versus Nature

2009-03-09T14:02:00.005-05:00

Human beings are hard to please. There's just no satisfying us. Even when we finally find some measure of satisfaction, it seems that we grow tired of it and start searching for new and novel ways of meeting our needs (actually, in most cases, our wants). This sad statute not only applies to physical and emotional desires, but spiritual aspirations, as well; try as we might, we can rarely maintain a good outlook on life if we resort to the same means all the time.

This is rather dismaying news, particularly for those of us enlisted in the War on Unhappiness. New meaning is brought to our struggle as we realize that every day promises another battle to maintain a right view of things. As the Newsboys sing in their song "Rescue,"

Caught in a spell that's overcast
You gain perspective, it doesn't last
All of the time in this life
Can't loose the ties that blind you
They're new every day, old as the Fall…
And I was born in the mess of it all…

As the Newsboys so eloquently point out in referencing the Fall, this seemingly eternal unsatisfaction might be a part of Original Sin. We are too self-centered to realize the blessings of the present moment, and so we choose to focus on what's missing. This doesn't seem like how humans were originally meant to operate, and it certainly doesn't become any warrior who charges against the camps of Unhappiness. Thus, we must reach a concrete conclusion about how we are to proceed: if we want to beat Unhappiness, we have to develop an attitude that counteracts our nature. This attitude has to be one of simplicity, perspective, and gratitude. Notice that some of our steadfast allies have returned—Perspective, which alerts us to the larger world we're a part of, and Gratitude, which sets us down the right path, away from selfishness, anger, and evil. Now Simplicity joins our ranks, as the medium through which we can experience life. The more complex our experience becomes, the more energy we expend in living. Weighed down by expectations and obligations, we are forced to respond to life, rather than live it creatively (in The Seven Habits, Stephen Covey calls this "Living Proactively"). The more baggage we carry around, the less energy we have to be happy. And being happy takes work. "Happiness," as Aristotle wisely observed in my high school agenda, "is a state of activity." G.K. Chesterton puts it even more profoundly in The Man Who Was Thursday:

Moderate strength is shown in violence, supreme strength in levity.

But where are we to find a guide for such an unnatural and difficult attitude? How can we possibly fight nature? Well, human nature can and must be fought at times, and this is one of them. Willpower is part of the answer. But the rest of the answer lies in a startling revelation—we can't do it alone. That's right. If we try to cultivate this attitude by solely our own efforts, we will fail after a short period of time. We need something more. Actually, we need Someone more.

Here is the beauty of Christianity, and the wisdom of Christ. Why did Jesus institute the Eucharist, and why are we told to receive it every week? Because we need it! Our frail natures cannot get by on their own. They need the nurturing hand of God to lead them back on course, the quiet confidence of Jesus to grant honesty and strength to their character, and the invigorating presence of the Spirit to spur them toward the selfless practice of cheerful compassion.

The Newsboys song we referenced earlier goes on to say this:

Then You rescued me, rescued me
Lord, with a touch of Your hand
Another captive freed again
Who else in Heaven could do this but You?
You rescued me, rescued me
Lord, with a love out of mind
Oh, You know I love it when
Everyday I am rescued again!

In short: what humanity lacks, God supplies. And so, victory in our current endeavor seems so much easier, so much more possible, than it did before. One might say we can even taste it, and one would be right, for that is exactly what we do every week at the altar.

An Amateur's Allegory

2009-03-05T22:33:00.003-06:00

Imagine for a moment that you have never seen a day. You’ve seen many nights, and have grown up and lived your life under that starred navy, but you’ve never been blinded by light—there just isn’t that much to go around. You were raised to stay in well-lit areas, and to look to light as a guide. Roads and neighborhood paths are lit by lamps, as are the rooms of a house. The light is what keeps you from falling over everything, including yourself.

What kind of life might be lived in these circumstances? You can probably imagine the consequences of avoiding the light: bruises, broken bones, perhaps even a premature death. It is hard, though, to understand the purpose of following the light. In this strange scenario we have imagined, in which the sun has somehow hidden itself from the eyes of man, one wonders: why follow the light at all? We’re doomed to a life of darkness no matter what, so why not throw caution to the wind, and go where we wish, doing what we want, come what may?

Well, allow us to add one more detail to this scenario which answers all of our questions. Suppose that it is possible, if one follows the light throughout the whole dark passage of life, to reach daylight. Can you imagine what it might feel like, after a lifetime of fumbling through the darkest nights in pursuit of faintest lights, to turn the corner one day and see the billowing shades of purple on the horizon? Can you imagine the glory of that first sunrise, as the real source and model of our light rises to a crowning height in the heavens? Here is a reality that you could never have guessed at, but have reached by placing trust in what was told to you: follow the lights! Here, you would realize as you covered your eyes with an eternal sort of satisfaction, is what every one of those lights in my life pointed to. This is that greater reality which I knew, since gazing upon the lights of my youth, existed somewhere, invisible yet present. Even when the lights of the night burned dim and threatened to fade away, I know now that He was watching, He was there, and even then He was guiding me to Him, to here, to now, to this perfect place, beyond anything I could have fathomed.

Indeed, one can find glimmers of truth in the simplest aspects of creation. Remember to follow those lights in your life.

Forcing Our Views

2009-02-10T13:08:00.004-06:00

Listening to the "Throne Room/End Credits" music from the original Star Wars movie today reminded me of a truth which sounds suspiciously reminiscent of G.K. Chesterton. It is likely that I have copied this idea nearly verbatim from one of his writings. It is certain that I first learned the idea from his writings. However, it is also certain that I firmly believe in the idea myself. And since Chesterton no longer actively writes any new material on Earth (it's rather difficult, I hear tell, to write from the next world), someone must propagate this tried-and-true worldview, which, in all fairness, predates good old G.K.C. as well.

The idea is simply this: it is when man thinks he is seeing things rightly that he is actually seeing them wrongly. It is when one feels level-headed and realistic that one is actually being shallow and dull. It is when one lands back on Earth that one has set off on a flight of fancy.

What I'm trying to say is that there is so much more to life than we typically imagine. We tend to see our lives in terms of routines: I get up in the morning, I have breakfast, I go to work, I come home, I eat dinner, I go to sleep. And again. And again. It is disturbingly easy to fall into a mindset that essentially sets perseverance and appreciation as its highest goals: "If I can make it through this day without snapping at anyone, and perhaps even enjoying my routine a little, then I'll have been successful."

To view life in terms of a single day's accomplishment is a tragic waste of the potential of human life. Life is a story, an epic, an adventure. It has a narrative arc; characters enter the story, and leave, and sometimes return. We are imprisoned and escape, we fall in love, we pledge allegiance to great causes and fight to uphold them, we make tremendous sacrifices, and yes, eventually, we die, off to bigger and better things than anyone here could well imagine.

We have such short attention spans that it is hard to lastingly commit to this worldview. But the art of life lies in attaining difficult goods, in implementing behaviors that don't stick easily, but pay huge dividends when they do stick. So if you need a change in perspective, listen to the "Throne Room" song from Star Wars IV. Close your eyes, and let the music transport you to a galaxy far, far away. And when you open your eyes, realize that you live in such a galaxy yourself.

May the Force be with you!
Joezilla

Sighting the Blind

2009-02-06T16:04:00.001-06:00

What sort of sinner is more dangerous to society? He who sins knowingly, understanding the evil of his act, or he who sins and assumes his action is not sinful? Certainly it is the latter, because the former reflects an unchangeable fact about man—namely, that he always has and will continue to voluntarily do evil sometimes. The latter, on the other hand, is always more hazardous to a good society, because as the generations advance, certain attitudes can take hold and become dominant within a society. If an attitude takes hold which is permissive toward some sinful behavior, this sin will gradually become more widespread, until it is seen as reprehensible by only a small and ineffectual minority.

Such seems to be the present course of our society with regards to sexuality.

"Back in the day," premarital sex was, as they say, taboo. Single mothers were frowned upon by the societal eye, because their circumstances trumpeted an irresponsible and irrevocable choice. Now, it is true that choices are merely notches in the timeline of life, and the choice of one day can be regretted on the next. It is the present intentions and attitudes that count, not past ones. Thus, ostracism is not a just societal response to single motherhood. HOWEVER…we must not throw out the baby with the bathwater (please forgive my use of a metaphor that is quite confusing in this context). The ostracism, though wrong, came from a perfectly righteous and upright attitude, ingrained deeply in society's fabric: Premarital sex was simply unacceptable.

Over the course of the 19^th and 20^th centuries, this tectonic plate has all but disappeared from the crust of contemporary society (if I may switch to a completely different metaphor for society). Although premarital sex is not necessarily encouraged by media at large (although in certain public school sex-ed curricula, it certainly is), it is most definitely not discouraged like it used to be. While the act of premarital sex used to be prohibited on moral grounds (i.e. "The decision is just plain wrong"), with STDs seen as the unfortunate consequence of the sin, modern society instead focuses on STDs as the primary evil of premarital sex. As usual, society has sacrificed the eternal, spiritual concern in favor of the temporal and physical one.

Thus, the ideal of protection has replaced the ideal of chastity. St. Augustine says that a man can order his life wisely by adhering to three principles: subordinating the inferior to the superior, joining like to like, and giving everything its due. Modern society has failed on the first count. Rather than focus on the effect premarital sex has on the institution of marriage and the individual soul, we choose to focus on the lesser concern of physical well-being. And built without a foundation, the building will crumble. Our generation must get to work on transforming society's vision of sexuality, restoring to it the respect and discretion it rightly once had.

I would wager that those who misuse sex have no concept of what it really is, what they are really doing when they make that choice. And here we return to the opening sentiments: those who have no knowledge of their sin are far more dangerous to society than those who knowingly do evil. There will always be sinners; there always have been. But sinners are self-aware, and can repent. A sighted man can open his eyes any time he chooses. A blind man, on the other hand, can only rely on the guidance of those around him.

Hopefully,

Joezilla

One Sent

2009-01-24T00:55:00.001-06:00

Along the road to Somewhere Past, I saw a shiny coin and paused,
Then took what I had almost passed—but knowing not what this had caused:
The habit of a watchful eye—a tool of the life well-spent.
And having since reaped bounties, I am thankful for that single cent.

The Secret of the Yogis

2009-01-19T03:00:00.001-06:00

I recently read the ancient Yoga Sutra, attributed to the renowned (by some) eastern philosopher Patanjali. I was expecting a mystical exercise manual that would teach me to do the splits and hover cross-legged in the air; what I received was a vague and wordy outline of yogic philosophy, which seems quite similar to Buddhist philosophy. Basically, Patanjali argues that one’s ultimate goal must be to halt the flow of thought through the mind: “When thought ceases, the spirit stands in its true identity as observer to the world. Otherwise, the observer identifies with the turnings of the world” (1.3-4). He goes on to outline the various powers available to one who practices such liberation from thought, including supernatural strength, levitation, and telepathy. In case you were wondering, he does not provide detailed instructions on how to practice these powers. “Just stop thinking”—that’s pretty much all the help he’s willing to give us.

Like most religious worldviews, Patanjali’s philosophy is hit or miss. It is impossible to halfheartedly agree with him; either you agree that cessation of thought is the ultimate goal, or not. This is true of all real religions. Either you accept the Resurrection of Jesus, or you are not a Christian. Either you accept the Torah as divinely-revealed Law, or you are not a Jew. Either you accept the supreme power of human reason, or you are not a rationalist. Any lukewarm religious devotion is uninspiring and, if you ask me, pointless. Why should I be a Catholic if I don’t believe Christ was born to a virgin, performed miracles, and rose from the dead? What’s the point? If you don’t believe Jesus was God, all that you’re really doing at church every week is remembering a really nice guy. Bob Hope seemed like a nice guy, but nobody worships him. What’s the point?

This idea (in the words of Sinatra, “All or Nothing At All”) applies just as strongly to Patanjali’s philosophy—so as a Christian, I must wholeheartedly reject it. Nonetheless, I do believe it wise to read a text such as this (opposed as it is to my beliefs) in search of wisdom, because there certainly is some wisdom to be found in a source like the Yoga Sutra.

In this case, the Christian wisdom is found by interpreting some of Patanjali’s words in a different sense than he likely intended. While reading the section entitled “Mastery of the Physical World,” I was struck with the inspiration to interpret his message metaphorically. The way I received this inspiration is a rather entertaining story.

I had just read that “from loosening the fetters of bondage to the body and from awareness of the body’s fluidity, one’s thought can enter into the body of another” (3.38). I instantly knew what Patanjali was telling me—I could read minds! After concluding that reading people’s minds would not constitute a betrayal of my own religious convictions (it would just be really cool), I decided to give it a try. Centering myself in a prayerful and loving frame of mind, I “reached out” and tried to put myself into the head of someone in the neighboring room. As I concentrated, a message materialized in my thoughts: “IT’S CALLED EMPATHY.”

And I had to admit that Whoever inspired that thought was right. Empathy does allow us to read minds. By conscious effort, we are able to understand and experience another’s thoughts and feelings. Sure, we may be wrong sometimes—but so would a mind-reader. And empathy doesn’t take nearly as much practice.

I quickly scanned the other powers Patanjali listed:

“From perfect discipline of the strength of an animal such as an elephant, one gains that strength.…From mastery of the vital breath rising in the body, one does not sink into water, mud, or thorns, but rather rises above them. From mastery of the breath of fire in the belly, one acquires a fiery radiance. From perfect discipline of the relation between the ear and space, one has divine hearing” (3.24, 39-41).

So let’s read this text as non-literal. What do we find? Discipline results in great strength. Calm, controlled breathing results in a light and buoyant existence. Strong breathing powers one with fiery energy. Awareness of the sense of hearing reminds one that it is a truly divine gift.

Perhaps, then, the secret of the yogis is simply this: reality is magic. The powers of humanity are supernatural enough; there’s no need to wish for more! Want to be super-strong? Exercise and take good care of yourself—you’ll be stronger than you imagined possible. Want to read a mind? Think about someone else’s problems and try to put yourself in their place. Want to float in the air? Try being truly happy, and you will feel light enough to fly. Voila! We all have magic powers. Few of us choose to put them to good use. The most wonderful things about life are the simplest ones, and great power is found in a calm acceptance of the present moment, coupled with profound gratitude to one’s Creator.

Am I reading into this too much? Perhaps I am, if you are a yogi. But I am a Christian; St. Paul tells me “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2:12). Thus, it is my job to relate everything I read back to my own beliefs. This is how I bring myself closer to God. I hope this post finds you closer to Him, as well.

Enlightenedly His,
Joezilla

Bring It On

2009-01-08T11:24:00.001-06:00

And if this band don't desert me,
Then there's nothin'
In the world can hurt me,
Long as I'm singin' my song.

As long as I'm singin',
Then the world's all right
And everything's swingin',
Long as I'm singin' my song!

—Bobby Darin, "As Long As I'm Singing"

I'll bet Bobby Darin never dreamed, as he sang this song, that it would be a source of earth-shattering inspiration for someone who would walk the earth half-a-century later. In case you were wondering (if, in fact, there is someone reading out there who might be wondering), this song was exactly that (i.e. a source of earth-shattering inspiration) for me this morning.

Take another look at those lyrics. Actually, if I were you, I'd just listen to the song. Here, follow this link (and appreciate it, too—it's not every day that I offer links on this blog! You're lucky I'm feeling charitable today…):

http://free.napster.com/player/?play_id=13761920&type=track

In addition to being a wonderful song, it reveals some key truths about living the life well-lived. First off, life is what we make of it. As we concluded in the last entry, "As you think, so shall you be." Your thoughts determine your words and actions, which determine your habits, which determine your character, which determine your destiny. Whew! This thing we call life is actually a pretty dangerous game, when you think about it! But if we don't play, we don't have a chance of victory. But I digress.

The point is, your thoughts determine, in large part, what your life is like. How is it that a CEO with a six-figure salary and a Cadillac could be miserable, while a blue-collar family man with two mortgages could be happy? The answer is perspective. What do those men see when they walk out the door in the morning? The negative man sees the same thing he sees every day: his driveway, the ground, the sky. It doesn’t' ever change. He goes about his day intensely focused on his work and his obligations, and, therefore, paradoxically, he is supremely unfocused on life itself. The positive man, however, sings a song of gratefulness and contentment with every action he takes. Every sight, sound, and circumstance is a blessing, whether obvious or concealed. Every problem (and he realizes how few his true problems are compared to others' maladies) is an opportunity, and a challenge to find that opportunity, seize hold of it, and use it to light a match of goodness in this weary world, to shamelessly ape Shakespeare's beautiful metaphor.

But there's something else about this song that struck me today:

And if this band don't desert me,
Then there's nothin'
In the world can hurt me,
Long as I'm singin' my song.

He's right. Nothing in this world can hurt us except ourselves. If we believe what we read in the Bible, then it becomes abundantly clear that this fact holds. As long as we do our part, God protects us. The only way a man can fall off the wagon is by throwing himself off of it. The only way a man can end up in the gutter is by purposefully jumping into it. One might say that at birth, or perhaps Baptism, we are placed on the elevator to Heaven. It is solely our choice whether to press a button and get off at a lower floor.

I can't help but feel relieved and grateful for this realization. God actually loves us all, and He has promised us that if we do our best for Him, He will not let us down. He wants us to succeed. The Creator and supreme Power of the universe is cheering us on every day. Is there any more inspiring fact than that? I think not!

Thankfully His,
Joezilla

What Was I Thinking?

2009-01-08T11:22:00.001-06:00

I've been thinking a lot lately. Perhaps it is disconcerting for you, dear reader (if, in fact, you exist), that there are times when I'm not thinking a lot. No matter; because, if you must know, I have been thinking a lot lately about the importance of thinking. It has come to my attention yet again just how important it is to keep careful control over our thoughts.

No, I did not come to such lofty conclusions on my own—I was handily conked over the head with them by a book I recently began reading, entitled As A Man Thinketh (by James Allen). It's one of the oldest self-help books I've ever seen (excepting the Bible, of course), a short and delightful read, voiced in that wonderfully dressed-up and wordy style of a long-forgotten and much classier age—it was written in 1902. There is something in this book's message that resonates with me deeply; each paragraph sends an arrow of inspiration straight to my heart, and empowers me. Here's an example from page 26:

Law, not confusion, is the dominating principle in the universe; justice, not injustice, is the soul and substance of life; and righteousness, not corruption, is the molding and moving force in the spiritual government of the world. This being so, man has but to right himself to find that the universe is right; and during the process of putting himself right, he will find that as he alters his thoughts toward things, and other people, things and other people will alter toward him.

You said it, my friend! Isn't that awesome? I think we all have experiences like this—this deep sort of inspiration can be triggered by the written word, the spoken message, or, perhaps most dramatically, in the vibrant poetry of music, which, being indescribable in words, is among the most mysterious and inexplicable forms of inspiration. I think that when we are blessed enough to find one of these sources of individual inspiration (individual, because different people respond to different sources), we need to preserve them, hold them close, and remind ourselves of them constantly.

Now I know what you're thinking: "Really? Remind yourself of it constantly? That seems like overkill." Well, if that's overkill, then overkill is the secret to success. If someone wishes to be good, why not pursue goodness at all times? In fact, how can one possibly attain goodness if he doesn't constantly work to keep it at the forefront of his mind? We know what human nature is like—if we don't master it and use its great potential for good, then it changes according to environment and circumstance.

As human beings, we are wired to be creatures of habit. We are constantly urged by our nature to settle into routines. It's sort of a biological law of inertia. We have the choice, then, to settle into routines that will slowly destroy us, or routines that lift us up and improve our lives (and, therefore, the lives of those around us). Another favorite source of inspiration, the motivational speaker Matthew Kelly, loves to repeat this challenge: "If you can tell me your habits, I can tell you what kind of person you are." He's so right! It's the habits that make or break us. I'm going to be keeping that in mind, hopefully for a long time. I suggest you do the same.

Inspiredly,
Joezilla

To The Honest Seminarian

2009-01-06T14:31:00.000-06:00

Greater admiration I reserve for very few,
For few it is who will to offer sacrifice like you.
Thanks to God, Who in His mercy gave you love so true,
To reap the harvest, save the lost, and help make all things new.

Zero Mostel Was Right

2008-12-15T01:17:00.004-06:00

There’s something to be said for tradition. In this case I am not speaking of Christmas trees and Easter eggs, but of the abstract concept of tradition. Take the Catholic Church, for example. The Church is an organization that has thrived for millennia, and shows no signs of letting up in the present age. One of the guiding forces of the Church is none other than our word of the day, Tradition (in the Church, we like it so much that we capitalize it). Tradition, as the preserved wisdom and practice of our predecessors on this ancient globe, provides generally reliable insight on how to address current problems. In fact, consulting tradition in this way almost allows those past men and women to return to the realm of the living, if only momentarily, to sound off on what must be done. G.K. Chesterton puts the idea forward quite beautifully in his book Orthodoxy:

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead.

Do not worry, dear reader (if, in fact, you exist): I am not going to bore you with a long treatise on Church Tradition. I am far too uninformed on the subject to do that. Instead, I wish to apply the concept of tradition to the wonderful practice of self-reflection.

I was looking over my inaugural posts in this blog today (in other words, consulting tradition to inform current action), and I couldn’t help but realize that it has changed a bit over the past year, perhaps a bit too much. The writing in the initial posts seems more lucid, more straightforward, than more recent endeavors. The content, too, seemed deeper and more insightful.

Does this reflect a deeper change in me, myself? Have I fallen off the spiritual wagon, or at least grown (metaphorically) fat and lazy so as to slow the wagon’s pace? I certainly hope not. However, I do sometimes find myself wondering at how a past version of myself would approach my present circumstances:

“Would Senior-Year-of-High-School-Joe have handled this situation better? If this had happened to me last year, would I have dealt with it more gracefully? Could my Kindergarten-self have addressed this problem more efficiently?”

As you can see, I sometimes go too far with this activity. Yet it is beneficial to look back on past problems, if only to recall the tools it took to solve them. I am the sum total of my life experiences. Everything I have overcome as an individual (granted: in my case, not a whole lot) required the cultivation and practice of a certain virtue or grace, which, though it may fall into disuse during easier times, remains in my soul. In other words, all capability and all wisdom which I have known in the past are still at my beck and call. The choice is simply whether or not to tap into them. I am my past selves; they live on long past their expiration date, and into the present moment. So the next time I find myself wondering what Senior-Year-of-High-School-Joe would have done if he were here, perhaps I ought to walk over to the mirror and ask him to his face.

Presently yours,
Joezilla

The LONER.

2008-12-15T00:22:00.002-06:00

The LONER

I am The LONER: my solemn crusade
Relies on the valor of one man alone—
MYSELF!—and solely to me is it known;
I fight my battles with no ally’s aid.

I am the Loner, my problems unique—
It’s doubtful that anyone now or whenever
Could grasp the import of my current endeavor—
Thus, I am silent (my comfort is bleak).

I am the Loner—locked up from inside,
I certainly don’t want a listening ear,
A comforting comment, or sympathy’s tear…
Though I grow tired of this liar’s hide!

I am a Loner, but don’t you see why?
Too scared to reveal what I feel in my heart,
With care I conceal it through misleading art.
Pardon my cowardice; pardon my lie.

I am the Loner, but you say you, too,
Bear burdens concealed from every man’s seeing,
And somehow my burdens bear less on my being,
Knowing that similar worries haunt you.

I am the Loner: if absent, not missed—
Yet with my humanity thusly uncovered—
Surprised and elated with what I’ve discovered:
Since all souls are Loners, I do not exist.

Gratia Vitae

2008-12-10T15:03:00.006-06:00

Gratia Vitae

When consequence is shirked again,

the future is ignored,

adversity sets in and then

temptation sends its horde.

Life and death are set before us—

choices clearly riven—

and here in culture’s vacuum lies

the gift of Life, ungiven.

Death does not become a land

so chivalrous and free,

so give us love and understanding:

as Thou art, so we.

And spare us, Lord, the tragic pain

of mother and child riven,

and will that nevermore we hold

the gift of Life ungiven.

to those whom culture sold its lie,

direct our hands and heart;

and to the souls whose choice is nigh,

Your wisdom please impart.

And spare Us, Lord, the tragic pain

of Mother and child riven,

and welcome us into Your heart,

where gifts of Life are given.

Someday peace will march through town

to songs of drum and fife…

and joyful shall the call ring out:

Give thanks to God for Life!

A Well of Verse

2008-12-08T14:53:00.004-06:00

First off, take a gander at that picture. Isn’t it wonderful? It appears to be a robot that just might be the Iron Giant, putting together a snowman. That, my friends, is what Christmas is all about. Okay, not really…but it’s still a cool picture!

Now, on to the main event:

These little guys came to me while learning and studying Anthropology. They are not particularly Anthropology-related, but Anthropology nonetheless helped cause them to be written—that is to say, I was so bored with Anthropology that I passed the time by writing poetry! I hope you enjoy them.

Three Observations
Branching out
to do Your Will
induces doubt
in me until
I realize
that You know best
and will advise
me on my quest.

Self-addiction
doesn’t ease
the deep affliction
and disease
of heart and mind
that fills the earth
and robs of kind
and guiltless mirth.

Since You dared
to count on me,
I haven’t fared
amazingly,
but since Your Love
came without strings,
We’ll rise above
on eagle’s wings.

Easy As [James] 1 2 3
I’ve always liked the windy days best,
the ones that hit you hard,
and tear through like a pest,
and blow the garbage cans across the yard.

Those days force the lazy into action.
Whether chasing trash cans
or true satisfaction,
their choices must be quick, like the brash man’s.

There’s something beneficial in these days,
blowing hard against us,
forcing us through the maze
and over walls that formerly fenced us.

So if the breeze is stronger than you’d like,
don’t cower from the fight!
Just grin and love the hike—
your yoke will get easy, your burden light.

God Bless, and enjoy December,
Joezilla

Christmasology

2008-12-04T11:49:00.003-06:00

I am a student of Christmas, what you might call a Christmasologist. If that word has never before been used, I coin it now:

Christmasology—The study of Christmas and its effect on people, particularly oneself; also, the study of Christmas spirit, how to attain it, how to nurture it, and how to spread it.

It's pretty fun being a Christmasologist. I began my study back in high school. I started a file in a little box I keep under my bed, saving quotes and other odds and ends which might help further spell out the true meaning of Christmas, and inspire in me that beautiful thing that we call Christmas Spirit. I've begun reading A Christmas Carol every year, as that little story is one of the greatest founts of Christmas Spirit that I've found. As I said, I've been at my study for several years now, and although I still have much to learn, I've come upon several important ideas.

The first is the idea of a gift. I realized a couple of years ago (probably way later than most anyone else who has ever given this holiday any thought) how the idea of a Christmas present is related to the original Christmas story. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son…" Jesus was truly the greatest gift ever given, because his life and death gave us freedom—freedom to learn from him and follow him and ultimately be saved by him. I know that this is sort of an elementary idea about Christmas, but I just realized it a few years ago. Needless to say, I was very happy to discover this. God gave us Jesus, the greatest Gift of all, on the very first Christmas. Even a brand-new Lexus can't quite measure up to that.

Here is the second concentration in my area of study, and it's one of my favorites: Santa Claus. Oh, how many pages I could write about Santa Claus! Such a wonderful figure, a wonderful image, a wonderful person! We've all seen him. Perhaps we've even been lucky enough to speak to him. One item in my file speaks volumes about Santa Claus to me: it's a little comic from the Chicago Tribune showing a young 20-something and an adolescent preparing a cooler-full of steaming hot chocolate, and hiking around the snowy city to visit all the Salvation Army charity Santas, giving each one a hot mug of cocoa to warm them up. They see fat Santas and thin Santas, short Santas and tall Santas, realistic Santas and sloppy Santas, a black Santa and a clean-shaven Santa, and after sharing a little bit of Christmas warmth with each one of them, the adolescent says something to the 20-something that cuts right to the heart of the whole idea of Santa Claus.

He says: "I always thought that there was only one Santa, and that it was his job to give presents to me. And I also thought that learning otherwise would be much more painful than it is."

A quote from a man named Stephen Leacock sums up the idea of Santa Claus rather well:
"Now, the essence, the very spirit of Christmas, is that we first make believe a thing is so, and lo, it presently turns out to be so!"

That's what's so wonderful about Santa Claus: he actually does exist. It's not just a story. He doesn't just live within our hearts. He's a living breathing person. It's just that there are a whole bunch of him walking around, and that we, too, can become him anytime we want.
It goes back to the famous quote from 2 Corinthians 9:7, which says in such simple and inspiring words: "God loves a cheerful giver." That's who Santa Claus is, and that is the true Spirit of Christmas: cheerful giving. If you can be Santa Claus for any other person each December, even just one, than you have carried on the Joy of Christmas. Congratulations.

There are so many wonderful ideas that come into play at Christmas and deserve treatises of their own—like the importance of yearly traditions, the significance of special Christmas music, the blessing of a loving family gathered around Christmas Dinner, the effect Christmas has on kids, and, of course, the mission to "make it last all year," as the Ghost of Christmas Present sings in A Muppet Christmas Carol.

But today I can only touch on one more idea here, and it is a bit difficult to explain, but I will do my best. For several years now, I've reflected each Christmas on the whole idea of this holiday, how it might have started, and who might have started it. It must have been a very wise group of people. Here you have this yearly festival, full of great music and family gatherings, bountiful tables and warm feasts, traditions and expectations and true love showing through everything. You have this wonderful idea of Santa Claus, nurtured in the young from an early age, playing off of all of their potential for wonder and excitement, and bringing it to life perhaps more than any other time of year. You have secret gifts being given and anonymous undercover sacrifices occurring in so many households across the world, as parents break their backs to make Christmas special for their children. Beautiful memories are made in so many households, even ones that perhaps don't see too much happiness through the rest of the year. These memories stick with people as they grow, and are brought back more potently than most any others when those Christmas carols start playing again, year after year, and people get some of that old almost-forgotten Joy back into their hearts, and they do things that they might not do any other time of year. It's a holiday that can change the world. Who thought of all this? I'd like to shake their hands. Or perhaps have a snowball fight with them…

Merry Christmas, and "God Bless Us, Every One!"
Cheerfully yours,
Joezilla

Flying High

2008-11-10T15:28:00.003-06:00

Isn't it amazing how fickle human emotions are? Although I'm sure we could all notice examples of this fact in other people's behavior, we need look no further than ourselves. How many times can we remember being on top of the world for a day or two, and then suddenly falling off the wagon just as quickly as we realized we were on it?

It seems that this is the general way of human nature, unless one is depressed (in which case you're pretty much always off the wagon) or enlightened (in which case you've got a ticket to ride the wagon indefinitely). Since most would agree that being on the wagon is more enjoyable than being off of it, I would like to offer a choice suggestion for getting back on if you find yourself having fallen off.

G.K. Chesterton once said that "Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly." He's so right—those angelic moments in our life, when we feel about ready to fly on up to Heaven and leave our business unfinished down here, those are the times when we take ourselves lightly, and what wonderful times they are! We don't attach such heavy values to the things that happen to us, and even, I daresay, the things we do. We shun the force of our emotions, which tell us to worry about things, to dwell on things, to ruminate until our minds are burned out and our dispositions are rotten.

See how self-destructive it can be to listen only to emotions? When we let our emotions control our thoughts, it becomes impossible to think for ourselves. We are constantly influenced by our anger and our desire, and there's no chance for compassion to get through. Emotions are essentially self-centered phenomena—and if we let them drive, we'll get nowhere but nowhere in no time. We should not deny our emotions; but neither should we allow them to control our course.

I'm not saying that we should abdicate our responsibilities. On the contrary, when we take the focus off of ourselves by lowering the volume on our emotions, we begin to "take ourselves lightly" again—and, in turn, we become infinitely more effective in our respective missions.
So if you're feeling blue, perhaps you need a perspective shift. I suggest listening to Relient K's "High of 75," which inspired me to write this little bit. After listening to that song, take a little time to be "thankful for being alive," and perhaps your eyes will open a little wider, and you'll discover that the sun is out there, after all.

See ya!
Joezilla

The Amazing Everyman

2008-10-12T18:19:00.004-05:00

He was born just like any other child, but after reaching adulthood, he grew and gained extraordinary abilities, towering over his former self. He can move with surprising speed and agility for a being so large. Further, his strength is great enough to lift heavy objects that many are unable to budge. For short periods of time, he can energize his system to allow himself heightened speed, strength, and reflexes, albeit with a short period of recovery afterward. His mind’s capacity and capability have increased exponentially since childhood, and he is now able to commit substantial chunks of information to memory and recall them, verbatim, at will. Every time he repeats an action, he becomes more proficient at it, resulting in potential perfection with practice. His only weakness is that he is not invulnerable, but his other abilities render this weakness moot in all but the most harrowing of circumstances.

He is the average grown man, and he vastly discounts his physical capabilities.

This is one reason why we love superhero movies. Every good superhero origin story has a scene where the hero first tests out his powers, and we always marvel at the seemingly limitless potential of our hero’s newfound abilities. Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker hoots with joy as he leaps and bounds across the rooftops of New York, pushing his abilities to their limit—and realizing there may not be one. Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark takes his newly-built Iron Man suit for a late-night spin through the skies and hits supersonic speeds without breaking a sweat. Despite a few close calls, he demonstrates the amazing potential of his new technology, and leaves us wondering if anything on the planet would be capable of taking him down.

The point here is that these scenes remind us of what it feels like to run through a field at full speed, or to swing a baseball bat with all our might—and see the ball go sailing toward the horizon. We ourselves possess superhuman powers, in a sense—can you remember marveling at your Dad’s seemingly limitless strength (he could open soda bottles with his bare hands!), and wondering how grown-ups could be so tall? Now you are that strong, you are that tall. Isn’t that awesome? We are all superheroes, in a sense, traversing our own perilous journeys, discovering our extraordinary powers, fighting our harrowing battles, nursing our weaknesses, and protecting whatever it is we hold closest to our hearts.

So go and do your duty, and remember—“With great power comes great responsibility.” Thanks, Uncle Ben!

A Random Idea That Awkwardly Popped Into My Head

2008-10-09T10:42:00.003-05:00

Among the annals of recent linguistic trends, two of the most emphatically sudden additions to the American vocabulary are the popular usage of "random" and "awkward." Unless my social barometer is completely whacky, "random" describes unexpectedly felicitous events, as well as strange or unsolicited remarks or actions that have no rational precursor in a given interaction.
If you stopped reading that midway through, I don't blame you. I should be saving that kind of inflated verbiage for where I really need it, which is to say in academic papers. I don't know how much of it I have in me. Let's move on to the second word, which is the one I wish to focus on here.

"Awkward," like "random," possessed a clear and common definition before its recent induction into the cult of popular slang. The new definition now calls up negative, somewhat shameful connotations having to do with uncomfortable silences and accidental interruptions, as when two people begin speaking simultaneously. Since certain people are more prone to producing these situations, they sometimes earn the title of an "awkward" person. There was some phenomenon a few years ago titled "the awkward turtle," which even had a hand gesture to go along with it, but I never cared to learn what that was, so we will not go into it here. The point right now is to drive home the current sense of the word "awkward." Why I am even doing this, I don't know—because we all understand what it means anyway. Let's say it's for posterity. Anyway, I'm sure that even the posterity which may or may not read this understands now. So let's move on.

What makes a person awkward? Why is it that some people are awkward and some aren't? I was inspired with the answer earlier today. Partly because I have been both the recipient and the cause of awkwardness, the reason became clear: awkwardness is caused by people waiting too long to say what they want to say. This itself is caused by a lack of confidence to speak on the part of the awkward person. Think about it; suppose I am speaking to someone and a joke occurs to me regarding something they just finished saying. There is a momentary cadence in the conversation, the perfect opportunity for me to utter my humorous gem—and I let it pass by, because I'm still humming and hawing over whether the person will get the joke or not. If I were confident enough in myself to just say it and hope for the best, then there would be no problem. But as it is, I've waited too long by the time I decide to say it, and just as I begin to speak, so does the other person. Dang it! So awkward! What is one to do?

Suck it up, and next time just talk when you feel like it. People should never neglect their natural intuitive senses. This sort of intuition is fascinatingly apparent in any human conversation, and the people who communicate best are the ones who understand how to listen (and how to prioritize listening) and when to speak. I am not saying that I'm a master of this art (few people really are), but we've all had our moments. Good luck to you in your future conversations; may your awkwardness be rare and laugh-inducing, and may your dinners be always tasty. Wow, that was random.

The Conversions

2008-10-02T00:41:00.005-05:00

The Christian booted up his mind
for an epic mental duel,
surrounded by three thinkers, blind
to the wisdom of the fool.

The first he was a rationalist,
in logic did he trust.
But his metaphoric rational fist
left the Christian’s hair unmussed.

The crusader brought up five deductions
penned in the Middle Ages.
Thus logic found its long-lost functions—
arming faithful sages.

“All things are caused, and all things cause,”
he stated without pausing,
“but if existence bears out logic’s laws,
Someone must have caused the causing!”

With one foe silenced, deep in thought,
the second now stepped in:
a psychologist, her affect taut,
her brain engaged to win.

“Religion has been made by man
to ease the pain of being;
so knowing, I say ‘yes we can’
to humanism—freeing!”

“Is science not all man-made, too?”
Our Christian missed no beat.
“If I’ve been fooled, then how ‘bout you?
The ground shakes ‘neath your feet.”

The second, silenced by the claim
that one cannot claim truth,
submitted to the third, who aimed
to outmode the Christian youth.

Relativism was his game,
and he played it rather well.
He did away with sin and blame,
was skeptical of Hell.

“Your God’s for you, and that’s okay,
as far as you’re concerned.
But me and he and her can stay
our course and not be spurned.”

“Spurn I won’t, but teach I must.”
—the disciple would not fall.
“If truth has not a trademark thrust,
then there’s no truth at all!”

And as the three sat thinking
The Supernatural did occur.
A flash that left them blinking
at a brilliant, man-shaped blur.

And at that moment the worldview
of the doubters broke like clay.
In front of them, and unfurled new,
was their Life, and Truth, and Way.

“Like Thomas come before you,
you believe now, for you see.
Now the world may deplore you,
but no matter—Follow Me.”

The Christian sat, self-satisfied;
a smile crept o’er his lips.
On his own he’d turned the tide,
retrieved three wayward ships!

Our Lord, Who looked I know not how,
said then, in teaching voice:
“You think you caused all this just now?
Their salvation was your choice?

“You defended me quite bravely, child,
and for that you are commended.
But since your ego now runs wild;
it so must be suspended:

“Where were you when I lit the sun,
set clouds afloat the air?
If you know more than anyone,
please tell me—weren’t you there?

“My dear son, you’ve neglected
the essential truth to bide:
All ignorance collected’s
venial compared to pride.

Angel of America

2008-08-26T23:12:00.008-05:00

Kerri Walsh inspires me. No, it’s not her delicate and (far too) trim figure, nor her radiant face (although that is a necessary part of this deduction), nor even her mastery of her craft. In fact, it is her sheer radiation of what we call joy, pure 100% Joy, that gets my higher sense in gear; that is what inspires me.

The joyful—and that truly is the best word for it—display that she and her partner Misty put on after winning a gold medal for America stirred a surprising phenomenon inside me that lies somewhere between thought and emotion—Emought, or perhaps Thotion? No matter.

You see, I began to wonder if Kerri Walsh might be an angel. If that sounds strange and sort of “out of left field” to you (and it most definitely will to the mass of sane mortals), I suggest you watch the celebration and interview footage from the Beijing victory broadcast. PERHAPS you will then understand my inclination. And no, I won’t provide a link to this video—Google it. I’m sure it exists.

So let us continue—

Joy is one of the raw materials with which Heaven is built. This may sound like mere inspirational mumbo-jumbo, but like most things that sound that way, it is a true and thoughtful statement. Would any everlasting kingdom founded without Joy as a primary building block have any hope of ever lasting? No—Joy is one of the most enlivening and inspiring elements of human existence; it keeps all of its practitioners young. One might say it makes all things new.

Thus, the ability to wield this weapon (for Joy is also an ultimate weapon in the fight against evil) so purely and so beautifully (and I mean that in the spiritual sense) would almost definitely indicate a supernatural being. Am I being unreasonable?

Such unadulterated Joy is a rare occurrence; one sees it in babies and young children; in some of our number who are mentally handicapped; and, blessedly, in the occasional Aged who has lost the ability to speak, or perhaps walk, or perhaps think straight. But to see this beautiful energy in a fully-grown human being, particularly one so heavily publicized and televised as Walsh, is a vision that rarely graces our lives. To use one of my brothers’ superb phrases, it is “a joy to behold.”

It’s funny how that works, isn’t it? Joy causes Joy. Like all good things, even like cellular life at its most basic level, Joy is a multiplicative phenomenon—it creates fellows. As Confucius once put it, in a quote that—much like Kerri Walsh—inspires me:

“Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will have neighbors.”

True Joy attracts life and Love. It is one of the keys to blessedness. Angels, I hear tell, seem to have the whole blessedness thing down pretty well. When you look at it that way, Kerri Walsh just might be an angel.

Iron Will

2008-08-26T19:34:00.001-05:00

I recall doing something recently that I immediately regretted, and thinking disappointedly “If I had perfect self-control, I wouldn’t have done that.” But what came next was a stunning realization: over every conscious decision I make, I have total control.

But this is a contradiction with my prior thought: “IF I had perfect self-control…” Clearly, I was wrong in thinking this. It is undeniable fact that every conscious decision I’ve ever made was initiated and guided by me. So, in reality, I do have perfect self-control, and so do you.

You see, this is sin’s evil little secret—it has no real power unless we give it power. The devil, as it has been said, can only enter your house if you let him in. Once we truly understand this fact, sin’s danger is lessened because its mystery is lessened. We are able to peer into the inner workings of this nefarious machine and observe—if only for a fleeting moment, like a lightning flash—the deceptive smoke and mirrors it relies on.

But we can’t do it alone. Here’s where we delve into some theology. We can only capitalize on this realization if we ask God to work inside us. Only He possesses the power to master and dispel sin’s power, because He is the source of all creation, including our free will, our “perfect self-control.” We can put our trust in Him, or we can go it alone and accept eternal failure.

Full comprehension of this idea puts a refreshing coat of appreciation on the Catholic Prayer of Contrition:

“Oh my God, I am sorry for my sins.
In choosing to do wrong, and failing to do good,
I have sinned against You, Whom I should love above all things.
I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin.”

(Yes, I added the bolds; I don't believe those are present in the official Roman documents)

“This is the thrilling romance of Orthodoxy. People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, humdrum, and safe. There never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy.”
—G.K. Chesterton

Hug People, Not Trees

2008-08-04T13:29:00.006-05:00

“Future generations may well have occasion to ask themselves, "What were our parents thinking? Why didn't they wake up when they had a chance?" We have to hear that question from them, now.”
—Al Gore, An Inconvenient Truth

Environmentalists often invoke future generations when making their points. As Mr. Gore articulates in our opening quote, those future generations may look upon their predecessors with a critical eye. And the very fact that Gore sees their criticism directed at us, instead of themselves, tells us much about the moral outlook of our environmentalist cheerleader. Allow me to explain.

The common theme of the environmentalist outlook is the danger of ignoring our planet’s warning signs. The idea is that if we don’t start taking better care of the planet, it won’t last. Everyone will die. Thus, we must make “saving the planet” our highest priority. So recycle, buy carbon credits, and only use one square of toilet paper in the bathroom, and soon the sky will be bluer and the oceans will cool off. The polar icecaps will remain frozen, and the hydro-nightmare of Waterworld will not come to pass.

Ask any environmentalist, and many leftists in general, and they will surely echo the sentiment that saving the environment should be the top priority of both the world’s leaders and its average citizens. This is not a risky or presumptive assertion; it seems to be common knowledge. Tips for “going green” are ubiquitous in the American media—in a scant one or two years, the “green” revolution has permeated our culture as the trendy modern way.

Now I ask you: should this really be the top priority? Should governments devote themselves to solving the environmental problem above all other problems? Should our media be spending so much time and money to force this message down our collective public throat? In short, to echo an environmentalist plea, is this the best use of our resources?

Let’s work a little thought experiment. Suppose Al Gore were magically elected President of the United States (I forbid you to make any jokes about the 2000 Election). Suppose he made “saving the planet” his number one goal. Suppose, moreover, that he (and we) succeeded. Suppose that through Kyoto, widespread carbon credit shopping sprees, and other assorted acts of Gorian hocus-pocus, the world were saved, and the terrible (alleged) threat of global warming were halted.

Yay! Everyone would be saved! Right?

Well, actually, no. Not even close. If global warming were to immediately halt, their would still be struggles in Iraq and Afghanistan, and countless other places that our media fails to report on, such as Sudan. Disease would still be claiming lives around the world, as would abortion.

Yes, our future generations would have a world to inherit, but what kind of world? Do we want them to inherit it in this condition?

Notice that the previous sentence is often voiced by prophets like Al Gore himself. But Mr. Gore and I are communicating on completely different wavelengths. Gore and his tree-hugging cronies are speaking in the physical, visible sense. I am not. I am referring to the moral condition of the world, the worldviews held and the choices made by its residents. These “inner worlds” are, I contend, infinitely more important than the physical one in which we live. G.K. Chesterton wrote in his Orthodoxy:

“The man who kills a man, kills a man. The man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world.”

I invoke this quote not to argue particularly against suicide (although I would have no problem doing that, it is not my main intent to do so here), but to illustrate my understanding of the “inner world” that exists inside every one of us. Each person contains the world in their own mind. Within the head of every fellow you pass on the street, there exists a unique perception and experience of this world, and that is a world unto itself. When one dies, this unique world passes from our realm; when one is born, a new world is born. And the point I am making is that there is no use in saving the physical world if the spiritual worlds of its citizens are in danger. To prioritize the fate of the planet over that of its citizens is counterproductive and misguided, to say the least.

Now I understand the obvious answer to all of this: “If we don’t save the planet now, it will be destroyed, and all of us will die. In what condition would your ‘spiritual worlds’ be if that happened?”

Well, let’s examine that situation. If the world ends because we prioritized other things above environmentalism, such as world peace and personal morality, then what state will we be in? To one who has a more transcendent perspective toward life on this earth, we will be in better shape than if we’d spent our life savings on carbon credits. The world will be better off if its citizens live better lives and live in better societies, even if it is slowly dying. All good things must come to an end anyway.

The point is, saving our lives is not what matters most. Saving our souls is. And that involves doing the right things, and the most important right things at that. So recycle, of course, and don’t litter, and keep your neighborhood clean. I’m not arguing against any of that. It’s what responsible people do. But don’t go bonkers over the environment; it’s just not worth it. Lives can be devoted to far more noble enterprises, and I hope that in the future, we will realize this and act upon it. Perhaps “future generations” will then have the humility to question their own behavior, instead of blaming their parents for their problems.

So Mr. Gore is right to say that we have to “wake up” and realize what we’re doing before it is too late. Ironically, to do this we must start ignoring Mr. Gore.

Golden Dancer (relax, it's just an allusion to "Inherit the Wind")

2008-07-05T22:34:00.004-05:00

Allow me to be clear from the start; this is not an exploitation of Mr. Barack Obama’s alleged “flip-flop” about his Iraq policy—no doubt many more intelligent and experienced minds have already written on the subject, and my voice would likely add little originality to their chorus.

I am merely responding to the siren’s call of inspiration which hit me upon reading Mr. Obama’s quote about his current plan for Iraq, noted in an Associated Press article:

“He promised to summon the Joint Chiefs of Staff on his first day in office ‘and I will give them a new mission and that is to end this war, responsibly and deliberately, but decisively.’”

On the surface, this appears quite sensible, practical, and mature. Of course we want this war ended! Of course we want our troops home! Thank you, Senator Obama, for speaking on behalf of the people!

But let’s examine this with a bit less emotion and a little more consideration. If elected, Mr. Obama will confront the Chiefs of Staff and assign them a “new mission”—to “end this war.”

What, if I may ask, has been their mission for the past five years? Prolonging the war?

Has any war ever been fought without the sole objective of ending the war? An army fights to win; if an army wins, “war is over,” to quote John Lennon. How is Mr. Obama giving us anything new in promoting a quick and decisive end to the war? Will his passionate words somehow inspire the troops to fight more heroically than they already are in Iraq? Will the forceful breath from his lips somehow slow the insurgents’ bullets? Will his urgent intentions somehow speed the passage of time and allow for a hasty victory?

In a word, No—they will do nothing of the kind. Mr. Obama is appealing to the natural human tendency of the short attention span. We Americans have grown weary of fighting this war (even as it has caused little in the way of inconvenience or change in many of our day-to-day existences), and so Mr. Obama’s words sound quite invigorating.

But if we examine them a bit closer, we will see—as is generally the case with Mr. Obama—that there is little substance beneath that shiny polished finish.

Regarding Iraq, I would think we should be more sensible than this, to realize that we must resolve to finish what we started, to safeguard the human life in Iraq that is currently in danger. To pull out immediately, or to "do what we can" for 16 months and then pull out, would be to shirk the responsibility that now rests on our shoulders. Is that the America you want? When dealing with innocent life, one cannot be so reckless.

I understand that some who read this (if, indeed, anyone reads this) may not agree with my opinions on the matter. I may appear misguided and even savage for supporting the continued effort in Iraq. I invite you all to respond, then. I share the sentiments of the great G.K. Chesterton, who said “If I say that it may be wrong, I say that it is not my opinion.”

I say that I am right. If you disagree, I would love to hear from you—go ahead, make my day!

A New Kind of Pastor

2008-03-13T14:18:00.009-05:00

“Folks are hatin’ on Barack Obama. He doesn’t fit the mold, he ain’t white, he ain’t privileged. Hillary fits the mold. Europeans fits the mold. Giuliani fits the mold. Rich, white men fit the mold. Hillary never had a cab whiz past her and not pick her up because her skin is the wrong color. Hillary never had to worry about being pulled over in her car as a black man. I am sick of Negros who just do not get it. Hillary was not a black boy raised in a single parent home, Barack was. Barack knows what it means to be a black man living in a country and a culture that is controlled by rich, white people! Hillary can never know that. Hillary ain’t never been called a [n-expletive]. Hillary has never had her people defined as non-persons. Hillary ain’t had to work twice as hard just to get accepted by the rich, white folk who [indiscernible] everything just to get a passing grade when you know you are smarter than that C student sitting in the White House. Oh, I am so glad that I have a God who knows what it’s like to be a poor, black man in a country, in a culture that is controlled and run by rich, white people. He taught me, Jesus did, how to love my enemies. Jesus taught me how to love the hell out of my enemies and not be reduced to their level of hatred, bigotry and small-mindedness. Hillary ain’t never had people say she wasn’t white enough. Jesus had his own people siding with the enemy. That’s why I love Jesus, y’all. He never let their hatred dampen his hope.”

If you read that entire rant, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t say it; I’m merely sorry for you, that you had to read through all of that muck. Reverend Jeremiah Wright (who is responsible for the venomous words above) is a very confused man. He seems to think that he is doing the Lord’s work.

I’m sorry, where in the Gospels does Jesus advocate spreading hatred for enemies? Because as much as the “Reverend” raves to the contrary, he is spreading the bitter virus of hatred to all who attend his services. Yes indeed, the pastor of Barack Obama’s home church (Trinity United Church of Christ) seems to need a lesson in how one goes about loving one’s enemies.

“Jesus taught me how to love the hell out of my enemies and not be reduced to their level of hatred, bigotry, and small-mindedness.”

Really? Jesus taught you? Evidently you weren’t listening well enough, “Reverend.” Jesus, in the middle of His agonizing death on the cross, quintessentially exemplified love of enemies:

And Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." And they cast lots to divide his garments. (Luke 23:34)

Notice, He did not say “Father, forgive them, for they know not how hateful, bigoted, and small-minded they are.”

Some might call this distinction nitpicking. I beg to differ. Can you really imagine Jesus Christ letting out such a spiteful statement of forgiveness? When someone apologizes to us, saying “I’m sorry,” do we respond with “It’s okay…that you were being immature and selfish and idiotic!”

Well, perhaps we sometimes do. We certainly want to sometimes. And that is what makes Wright’s comments so unbecoming—and shocking—for a pastor. He is advocating completely self-centered, emphatically non-divine responses to wrongdoing. As leader of a faithful congregation, his words have weight. He is obligated to do his best to lead his flock toward Christ, and put forth the best example possible in order to model Christ-like behavior. In short, he should challenge his listeners to go above and beyond the normal human response to wrongdoing. He should not use the pulpit in order to grind his own bitter and delusional axes.

As for the "wrongdoing" in question, that is a separate topic of discussion. Is Wright living in a fantasy world? Perhaps so; if he had been around about forty years ago, his message would have fit in well with our good friend Malcolm X. But wait...there was another man who demanded civil rights in the 1960s, who respectfully advocated peaceful reform over violence in order to right the wrongs of society...what was his name? Martin something? Somebody Jr., maybe? I can't remember his name. But then again, neither can Jeremiah Wright.

Abusing authority and distorting the Gospel message…not a great recipe for leadership of any sort.

And just as a quick sidenote, let's revisit the pastor's pearls of wisdom one more time:

"I am sick of Negros who just do not get it. Hillary was not a black boy raised in a single parent home, Barack was. Barack knows what it means to be a black man living in a country and a culture that is controlled by rich, white people!"

He is sick of "Negros who just do not get it." Ironic words, since Barack himself most likely does not get it. Oh, he was a "black boy raised in a single parent home," indeed. If, by that, you mean that he was raised by a single white woman, and privileged far beyond the wildest dreams of most boys—black or white, rich or poor. Barack does not know "what it means to be a black man living in a country and a culture that is controlled by rich, white people" because he is neither fully black, nor has he ever been poor, nor is his country controlled by rich, white people. It is in fact controlled by rich people, in general. The last time I checked, Barack himself, as a Senator, is one of those people in control of our country.

So what value does the much-ballyhooed Obama see in his pastor's words? I'm curious now.

Energetically Yours,
Joezilla

Sweeping The Nation…into the dumpster

2008-02-27T12:04:00.004-06:00

As time presses on in its sometimes wonderful, other times rather confounding way, man’s philosophy continues to advance in an inspiring pattern of upward evolution…right?

Actually, no. The things that work for us right now, the philosophies of life that really satisfy the heart and improve the world (what more could we ask for than those two ideals?), have been with us for a very long time, indeed. No one is going to dream up the meaning of life today. If one believes he has, he most likely not birthed a revolutionary new worldview, but instead merely realized for himself some particular aspect of the same great ideas that have satisfied the heart and improved the world throughout history.

So hold on a minute. Does that mean that the new philosophy of “Freeganism” breaks no ground in the area of ethical principles?

Well, let’s talk about what Freeganism is, and you can decide for yourself.

Freeganism, as described on Oprah, --

Wait. Did I just say that? Allow me to explain.

I was mugged yesterday, and when I woke up I was tied to a chair in a Chicago warehouse and forced to either watch Oprah or undergo intense psychological abuse (What's the difference? Ha-ha-ha-ha!!!). After ten minutes of quiet introspection and deliberation, I chose Oprah.

There, that’s better.

So they had this woman on Oprah who described herself as a “Freegan.” Basically, the Freegans are people who are fed up with the current economic system in America. To manifest this frustration with the system, they simply choose to withdraw from it. They abstain from buying food from any business or individual. Instead, they opt to forage through dumpsters and garbage bins, essentially living off the waste of their fellow citizens.

Jesus said that those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted (Matthew 23:12). Evidently, the Freegans choose to sidestep this dilemma, and instead attempt to exalt themselves and humble themselves.

I see two problems with that.

First of all, they’re exalting themselves. By showing off their alternative lifestyle to Oprah and anyone else who will listen, they are not, as they might contend, living out a life of principle. They are acting out in order to get attention. They are the logical maturity of the child in our 1st grade class who ate food off of the floor, to rounds of raucous laughter and applause, or (as the case might have been) general bewilderment and distaste. The Freegans are not living out their principles. If they were, they could emigrate from America and its unjust free markets.

To the Freegans, I have this to say: I hear that the summers are to die for in China.

Wow, they cleared out pretty quick after that. The point is that no sane human being would ever leave America's economy in order to support a Communist economy. Say as much as one wants about cooperation and equality and universal healthcare, no Communist system has ever really panned out as well in practice as it did on paper. America is the country that offers the best odds of success, from a purely practical standpoint. And, incidentally, America is also the country that allows people to dig through trash to make their livelihood.

It is not principle that drives these people, because they choose to remain in America rather than move elsewhere. It is attention, perhaps with some scorn thrown in (scorn being one sentiment that always makes one feel righteous and justified, even when that’s not the case), that they seek.

So the Freegans are not as self-sacrificing as they might present themselves. In fact, upon close observation, we see that they are more self-centered than anything else.

That brings us to the next point. If you’re going to be self-centered, do it right! More seriously put, I mean to say that no human being should eat another’s garbage. If the Freegan sees this action as a gesture of humility, he should perhaps study up on what true humility is. Ebenezer Scrooge was the epitome of self-centeredness; but all it took was three Spirits to cure him. To cure a Freegan, one would need a generous mess of Spirits and several cognitive psychologists.

No, I’m not saying I have all of the answers about being humble (Although I do have one! See below…). I’m just saying that the Freegans have none of the answers. And in another sense, they show us what one of the answers isn’t.

So that’s about it.

Have a great one, and if you get hungry, please approach the front of the restaurant, rather than the back.

Signing off,
Joezilla

An Unurgent Directive to Be Less Urgent

2008-02-05T09:23:00.000-06:00

Here is something I wrote a few months ago after a sudden feeling of inspiration one day. It felt good to write it.

AN UNURGENT DIRECTIVE TO BE LESS URGENT.

Today I was walking along a beautifully tree-lined pathway on the Northwestern campus, reading about the numbing effect that the daily grind of work and study can have on people the world over. If you are numbed right now, you might not have understood the first sentence. Read it again, and deeply take in the meaning. Are you with us again? Excellent—let us proceed.

Struck with sudden inspiration in the middle of my readwalk, I gradually drifted off the blacktop and toward a tree that stood next to the path. Leaning against this tree, I observed the events taking place around me. The leaves had turned color (it is the midst of fall as I write this directive), a chill was in the air, and people of all sizes and philosophies scurried, strolled, or staggered to their respective destinations. I had momentarily withdrawn from my transit in order to observe, and thus I had withdrawn from the action of this world. While the advancing course of my day had come to a fleeting pause, everyone else’s nonetheless continued. People went about their business seemingly unaware that one of their fellows had briefly surrendered to inaction.

During this break, a startling shot of insight came into my mind. I saw the world (from where I stood) as being like a colony of ants, particularly like one of those kits that are sold for children, where one can view the progress of the ants’ civilization through clear sheets of plastic or glass. I saw that over the thousands of years of our civilizations’ development, our species had come far. We had transcended the capabilities of the ants long ago. What made this transcendence possible, or in other words, what differentiated our civilization and its capabilities from those of the ants? Our size is one factor which cannot be denied. This may sound simplistic, but it is deeper than you may realize. We are capable of doing greater tasks than ants, yes. But we are also incapable of doing as insignificant tasks as ants are able to do. Our size is a double-edged sword. But I am digressing.

Another factor is intelligence. By our standards, we are able to think greater ideas, communicate clearer thoughts, and thus accomplish greater tasks due to our painstakingly developed minds.

But the most important factor is our very humanity. We are conscious, we are able to reason and feel, to intuit and create. Though our civilization and attitudes have developed and changed dramatically over the years, our fundamental humanity has changed very little. Physically, emotionally, and mentally, we are essentially the same types of beings as could be found on this planet two thousand years ago. Any reading of ancient prose or poetry will quickly reveal this fact.

All of the facts of our current sophistication are so; and yet, we are still ants in the cosmic scheme. We are all minuscule creatures living out our roles in this society, this kit that God has built and watches over every day. He has a plan. He always has.

I look around sometimes and wonder what is happening to society. I see troublesome forces, forces of selfishness, pride, and anger, threatening the safety and development of the young generations. I see people and ideologies so repulsive to what I believe to be the just and righteous and sane society, that I feel I must fight them to the last man. I feel like I must take every possible action to speak out against the evils of the world, to proclaim my common sense any time there is an opportunity for it, to divide between “us” and “them,” and to struggle to the point of exhaustion. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders! It is up to me to save it! Such are the thoughts that often went through my mind when I saw evidence of evil in society, a common sight nowadays.

I know what you are thinking: “How do you know what is evil and what is good? Who says you’re right?” Well, simply put, I say I am right, and that is enough for me. As G.K. Chesterton said, “If I say that it may be wrong, I say that is not my opinion.” I truly believe that my most passionate beliefs are in accordance with God’s will. That is not as crazy as it sounds when you think about it. I believe in and worship God. Why would I believe something I take to be contrary to His desires? So that settles the matter of why I believe so strongly in what I believe, if that makes sense.

But am I right to take up Atlas’ position and strain my back with the weight of the globe? No, and that is exactly what my brief respite taught me. God is the Master of the ant colony; He set it up, and He is letting it progress as He sees fit. If something is going wrong, it is so that everything may eventually go right, for He who created us has planned it that way. My limited human vision only sees the here and now; it ignores the vast past that led up to this point in history, and it likewise ignores the unfathomable future which continually hurtles toward us as the present moment, and shows no signs of stopping.

The ultimate point is that it is all in His hands—everything! This does not exempt us from doing our duty and speaking our truths. Instead, it informs us that we are given opportunities for such words and deeds, and we will know when these opportunities arise. There is no need to force a battle in the war against a decaying society. Like all conflicts of the past, the outcome was decided long before the first blow was struck, and the affair, no matter how ugly, was still being overseen by a loving Creator.

Living as a loving Christian here and now, setting an example to all that you meet, is in the vast majority of situations the far more effective converter of hearts. “They will know we are Christians by our love,” not by our sound arguments and reasoned opinions. So relax more, worry less. Listen more, speak less. And when the time comes, gently step up to the microphone, say what must be said, and never forget just Who you are living for.

Read Things Worth Reading

2008-01-17T15:19:00.000-06:00

Well, I must say I was flattered by the friendly plug I received from my colleague’s blog (here’s the URL, because I don’t yet know how to make the text a direct link, and, quite honestly, don’t yet care either: http://writethingsworthreading.blogspot.com/).

I assure you it is more than mere obligation that drives me to urge you to visit the above blog. Why? Well, in all honesty, as the sidebar on the right says somewhat wishy-washily, if you like this column then you will love Matt’s.

Believe me when I say that this is true. Matt’s blog is, on the whole, far more interesting and far more interactive than this one. Whereas this blog is hardly even a blog (its contents could easily be hammered out on an antique typewriter and retain the same general effect that they have here on your screen), being made of mere text, that is, Matt’s is unequivocally a high-tech marvel of a website, chock full all sorts of novel links and curiosities.

You should consider yourself lucky if you get to see a new picture of Donkey Kong posted up here every few months or so. If you ever see just a picture of Donkey Kong on Matt’s blog, and not at the very least a live video of him, if not a hologram, you should write Matt an angry letter (or e-mail, perhaps, would be more appropriate).

With every new blog post from Matt, you can expect to see a video from the deepest darkest corners of the Web retrieved by space-age sorcery, a link to some newfangled website that serves some bizarre yet appealing purpose, or even just a really good picture corresponding to what he wrote. Because, yes, in addition to what I’ve just gone on and on about, he writes. And he writes jolly well! In short, what he writes, is worth reading.

So that’s that, folks. Go to http://writethingsworthreading.blogspot.com/. Go there now.

And if you actually found here through there, keep going there – but from now on always come here first!

That’s right, Matthew. My plugs only go so far. They will not get past the locked doors that exist in my own mercenary heart.

Have a great one!

It’s been real,
nice.

That was a sentence. It’s been real nice. Did you think I was saying “It’s been real”? I wasn’t; I’m no fan of that expression for the precise reason I just illustrated: It can be misleading. It sounds unresolved. Which reminds me of a great book called Blue Like Jazz. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.

It’s been real nice,
Joezilla

Rational Security

2008-01-14T10:06:00.000-06:00

“It is always the secure who are humble.”

G.K. Chesterton’s words always require a complex routine of mental gymnastics to decipher fully, and the above quote is no exception.

I take it to mean that in order to be a truly humble person, one first must achieve a level of self-confidence that could be called being “secure.” This, of course, would be the opposite of “insecure.” But can we ever really, completely stop being insecure?

In our best moments, yes, I say we can. When the circumstances are right, and we feel that irresistible Force pushing us to be at our best (because we all have times like that, don’t we?), we can completely transcend the immature boundaries that our society has conditioned us to have:

“Oh, no, I’ve got to walk up the aisle of this auditorium full of people, everyone’s going to look at me! Are my shoes tied? Is my fly open? Is there a booger hanging out of my nose?”

We’ve probably all had moments like that. Or maybe not. Anyway…

I think that the only way we stop feeling insecure is to stop acting insecure. Even if we feel completely self-conscious walking up the aisle in that crowded auditorium, we still have the choice, it is still completely within our realm of capability, to put our shoulders back and walk up confidently. We all have a right to be here, and there is never a reason to feel ashamed, unsure, or even just a little awkward. You know what you’re doing, even if no one else does. And in the end, no one really cares anyway. They’re not even going to be looking at your nostrils, trust me.
So let’s move on to humility. Doesn’t humility mean stepping out of the spotlight, shrugging off compliments, and ascribing your successes to other people, events, or to God? Well, yes, I think so, but that’s not all of it. You see, I recently had an experience where I was playing music in front of a group. But it wasn’t a performance, really, at all.

I was at church. The whole idea was to be in the background, to add to the atmosphere, not absorb it into my spotlight. So you see, I had a lot of power in my hands. I could play for the right reasons, to add to the spiritual experiences of everyone at church, or I could take steps to highlight my own playing, my own skills. I could dwell on what people were thinking of me as I played my heart out in front of them all.

Well, luckily for me, I knew that I would be a pathetic and arrogant failure in the humility department if I practiced the latter. I’ve never really been an overtly egotistical person (unless I’m blind to it, in which case I could be right now!). That kind of thing doesn’t work for me.

But the most dangerous wolf is the one in sheep’s clothing; he can get close to the herd, make friends with the other sheep, before going for their throat. Likewise, the most insidious of vices are the ones that paint themselves as virtues or harmless pleasures, or that make us think they're not really there. Those are the ones that can really get us. And that’s where I fell a little short that day. You see, I was concentrating so much on being humble, that I wasn’t practicing real humility, the ultimate humility that we strive for. I was overthinking it.

But wait. Can you really overthink being humble? You know, if you think more about it, you’ll just get more and more humble. Is that a bad thing?

Well, yes it is, if it takes our mind off our priorities. I was being so humble that day at church that I was mentally patting myself on the back for it:

“Yeah, Joe, that was a pretty humble job. I loved the way you humbly deflected that compliment back at that guy. Well done.”

Yeah, that’s almost word for word.

Now I shouldn’t forget that what matters is that I was humble during the Mass. I didn’t let the demons of ego take control. But the next step, then, is to really jump into the cold water and stop worrying about being humble.

So real humility, I think, is being supremely humble, and not thinking about it.

If we have faith, we don’t need to consciously practice humility. If we go into everything with the right attitude, then all the pieces fall into place. Humility becomes a part of our character. And that’s about it.

Now the real question is, should I even publish this essay here on the blog, or would it be more humble to keep it offline?

There I go again!

Securely but humbly,
Joezilla

The Power of One (sounds cool, has no actual bearing on the text)

2008-01-13T02:30:00.000-06:00

"Train up a fig tree in the way it should go, and when you are old sit under the shade of it."

A wonderful quote from Charles Dickens, fitting for the day I find myself in. It is also fitting that I should begin this blog with a quote, as quotes are one of my favorite forms of wisdom. Like bars of candy, the quote or aphorism gives a “Fun Size” bit of wisdom that can often come at just the right time. But enough about candy. Let’s get on to the meat and potatoes.
This, as you most likely know, is a blog. That is a funny word, and though I am usually partial to funny words there is something inherently repulsive in this particular one. I much prefer sasquatch or blubber, but I did not invent the idea, so I claim no right to naming it. Onward!
Why am I doing this? My reasons for writing this blog are threefold: Firstly, it is a wonderful way to pass the time when I have exhausted other more pressing or inviting options. In other words, I have a lot of time to spend and I need a somewhat constructive way in which to spend it. Also, I need an alternative to homework in case that ever becomes too boring. Secondly, writing about something I am interested in, or about nothing in particular, as I am right now, in addition to being a tremendously enjoyable experience, keeps my mental faculties sharpened. This will no doubt be a blessing to me as I sojourn further into the land of Huge Essays and eventually stumble blearily into the territory of the dreaded Double Digit Paper Beast. I have heard that certain specimens of these can reach lengths of 20 or more pages. Though I still shudder at the thought of facing such fiendish brutes, I am quite sure that keeping my rhetorical wits about me by writing this blog will only serve to help me in my encounters with them. Thirdly, I hope to share some small glimmer of happiness, insight, or entertainment with you, my dear reader (even if I am talking only to myself). There is much to be said for the sharing of deeper thoughts, as well as lighter ones, and this blog will serve as a resource for both.
I am not, as one might expect, writing this blog in order to share bits and pieces of my humanity with an audience of readers. I have nothing to prove; I know I am a human, and I assume most everyone else does, as well. If anyone doubts my humanity, either they are crazy or they know something that I don’t. If the latter is true, please do not alert me—ignorance is bliss, at least in this case. Further, I am not writing this blog as a replacement for a journal; I already keep a journal (albeit rather sporadically), right next to my bedside, and said journal is for personal thoughts and ideas that are not to be shared in this essentially public forum. Thus, you are not reading my innermost thoughts and feelings, you are reading the thoughts and feelings that I felt would best contribute to an effective blog entry (if, in fact, you are reading this at all).
All right! With that out of the way, I can actually get to the business of this inaugural entry, which will not be extremely lengthy. Let us return to the aforementioned Charles Dickens quote. “Train up a fig tree in the way it should go, and when you are old sit under the shade of it.” This is, of course, a takeoff on the popular Bible verse “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6). That said, it is easy to see the meaning behind both sayings. They speak of the rewards of patient diligence focused toward a specific goal. Great deeds are often accomplished by Herculean effort over a short period of time; Wikipedia tells me the Empire State Building was built in just over a year, from excavation to ribbon-cutting. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empire_State_building However, there is something to be said for a comparatively minimal effort over a great period of time. I’ve seen the benefit a small amount of daily practice does for my saxophonic abilities. And a daily donation of just $1 will help to support that wonderful programming you’ve come to expect from PBS (and at the end of the year, you’ll realize they’ve conned you into making a $365 donation—luckily, I’m not speaking from experience).
Why am I saying this? Well, Dickens’ wonderful adaptation of Proverbs came to my mind this morning as I brushed my teeth. You see, through the sheer Providence of God, complemented—or perhaps implemented!—by clever scheduling, I managed to procure for the Winter term a Friday completely free of classes. It occurred to me that I could assign myself the duty of self-improvement on this weekly free day. I could commit to a specific exercise regimen for that specific day, different from the other days’ exercise. I could choose a specific jazz chord progression to practice improvising over. I could implement any number of edifying activities that would produce a more quality product (and by that I mean person) by the spring. All day I thought on these things.
It is now 9:39, and I have neither practiced nor exercised. I have, in fact, spent the day playing video games, watching movies, and eating. Perhaps the next entry should center around human nature and how to control it.
All in all, though, it’s been a great day, and it’s not over yet. I can still practice and exercise. Maybe the next entry should instead focus on the process of how to have one’s cake, and eat it too.

With confidence,
Joezilla