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If We’re On the Same Team, Why Are You Yelling At Me?

29 Nov

It’s not just a magazine

I hope its no secret to anyone that I am completely, radically, and unassailably pro-life. Bonkers pro-life. The only person more pro-life than me is Jesus. And Mary, and some other people, I guess, but most of them look at me and are like, “How are you capable of being so flippin’ p to the ro v. wade has got to go to the l-i-f-e pro pro PRO pro-life, dawg?” And I say, “please don’t call me ‘dawg’. It’s dehumanizing, and probably not pro-life.” And then they’re like, “Oh, sorry, daw–I mean: Dan. And thanks for being so pro-life and all.”

Having said all that, there are some pro-life people who I have trouble…understanding. We are technically on the same team, and yet they make me feel uncomfortable in a way that I normally only feel when I’m around adult bed-wetters.

For instance, I received the following email earlier today:

“From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force.”  Matthew 11:12
If foolishly not yet PRO-LIFE, please either repent or unsubscribe; otherwise, please Forward to and Reply with all known of PRO-LIFE eMail contact address

So, let’s examine this a little. First, there’s zeal. That’s a plus! I love zeal! Zeal is important to have when you are defending innocent babies and their anxious mothers. I suppose, though, that what we have here is more a flaw in tactics than anything else.

For instance, there’s no greeting. No introduction. Just a stark biblical passage (and not even my favorite translation). And then: you’re a fool! At least, you are if you’re not pro-life. And if you’re not pro-life, Stupid Person Who I’ve Never Met Before In My Life and Could Be the Pope For All I Know: REPENT! Or unsubscribe. One or the other. Take a second to weigh that choice: Repent? Unsubscribe? Repent? Unsubscribe?

On the other hand, if you’re not a fool, then you are hereby commanded to forward this to lots of other people I don’t know, but who you know. That’s right: I want you to let me boorishly harangue all of your friends and associates, because the fact that I’m pro-life gives me that unquestionable right! And notice who, specifically, this person wants to reach: “all known of PRO-LIFE eMail contact addresses.” That’s an awkward phrase that quickly brings to mind the “all your base are belong to us” meme, but, more importantly, it’s utterly pointless: as if this one-person pro-life embassy is going to end abortion singlehandedly by sending emails to other pro-life people and telling them that ABORTION IS WRONG, fools!

At the bottom of the email the sender then gives us some handy links to his own websites [I'm not revealing them, out of what's left of my barely intact sense of civility and a basic sense of respect for this person]. Suffice it to say: only one of the websites has to do with being pro-life. The others are merely propaganda for his various professional aspirations, including (naturally) his LinkedIn profile!!

Sometimes I think: this is what’s wrong with the Pro-Life movement in America. It’s not that there isn’t enough support (because there is), it’s not because their aren’t enough prayers going up or enough interest in seeing something so evil be eliminated from a nation that is founded upon a respect for life (because there are and there is). The problem might be tactics. Some things are only cast out “by prayer and fasting” as it says in the New Testament, and abortion in our country is probably one of those things. So we should fast, and we should pray, and we should conduct all reasonable, peaceful resistance efforts. But let’s not simultaneously subvert those efforts by misguided, vainglorious salvos of overemotional emails and proverbially beating our breasts on the street corner–because that convinces a sum total of nobody.

Thoughts On Wrinkles

21 Sep

It’s strange: I flip up the lid of my laptop and, just before the screen lights up, I see a clear reflection of my face. I see an oldish guy—not old; oldish. I see wrinkles that weren’t there once; I see glasses over eyes that don’t see very well (that haven’t seen well since 8th grade, to be blunt). I see gray hair and bags under the eyes. ‘Bags’ is, perhaps, too strong a word. ‘Satchels,’ maybe. No, that’s worse. ‘Fanny packs.’ That’s horrible. ‘Coin purses’—nice. ‘Coin purses’ under the eyes. The bottom line is: that’s an older guy in the reflection than used to be there.

But you know what? I don’t care. I’m not experiencing a mid-life crisis like so, so many guys my age are.

I attribute that entirely to Jesus Christ. Thanks to Him, I know that the chronological age of my body doesn’t mean so much. I should remain aware of it, of course, but inside is the same soul, washed clean by Baptism, configured to the Holy Spirit to receive all the grace I could possibly need in order to attain to everlasting life.

I keep thinking about The Dark Knight Rises, when Batman gets the inevitable, tragic beating at the hands of Bane that you know must come; I hear Bane’s mocking tone when Batman struggles to his feet even though there is no hope of victory: “I wondered which would break first! Your spirit…or your body!” My body breaks. My spirit stays with Christ. In Christ, my body will rise on the last day and be made greater than it has ever been, and remain that way forever.

So, I don’t worry about a few wrinkles. I don’t feel a mid-life crisis. In fact, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.

Life After Moving

18 Sep

Moving your family from one state to another is a rancid and despicable process, but now that it’s done I have a few points of interest I’d like to share with you wonderful people.

1. We are in our new place now, but it took about a month to get here. I’ve been so focused on getting all the furniture in and TCB (that’s “taking care of business,” non-Elvis fans) that I’ve barely had a chance to poke around. Finally I did, and here’s what I discovered. We have a 2nd refrigerator in the garage. It has a duck in it. An entire duck, with feathers, and a beak. I’m no doctor, but it seems to be dead. It isn’t moving, and it’s in a clear plastic freezer bag. And I want the family of this duck to know that I WILL NOT REST UNTIL I FIND THE ONE WHO DID THIS.

2. We were forced to live out of hotel rooms for over a week on our way to our future home, but I did manage to get away and see the new Batman. Masterpiece. Also, I talk like Bane now. It’s endlessly amusing to give instructions to your children using Tom Hardy’s chillingly weird “Bane” voice, and no matter what you say, no matter how mundane, it always sounds like a preface to some heinous act. Lucy, I thought I told you to put your shoes in the closet, not in the middle of the floor becomes part of the monologue before pushing the button on the Super Bigger-Than-The-Sun Explosion Bomb you’ve built using the forced labor of kidnapped scientists (or whatever devious weapon you personally prefer). And, again, I’ll say it proudly: The Dark Knight Rises is a masterpiece–though I sense a somewhat tepid response from the movie-going world. Maybe I’m just out of touch. Did it do well? Well, anyway, I thought it was a masterpiece (did I mention that I thought it was a masterpiece?). So many cool things to think about during that movie, and, yes, as the wise Father Barron pointed out, major Christological implications.

You think the duck in the refrigerator is your ally? I was BORN with a duck in my refrigerator!

3. I’ve gotten some great communications from people well on the road to spiritual healing in the face of spiritual attack, and that’s awesome. On the other hand, I know of some who badly need healing who haven’t gotten it yet. Keep them in your prayers, please. Seriously.

4. Finally, and most importantly: there’s a new Lordling on the way! A beh-beh. Could be a boy, could be a girl, I just don’t know. Definitely human. About the size of a plum, at this point, with little beh-beh digits and teeny organs. Connected to another person (the mother) by living tissue. Weird, wonderful, mysterious–that’s life.

beh-beh

Just to Show How Stupid I Am…

26 Jun

…After nearly forty-two years on planet Earth, I think I can confidently explain who Jesus means when he says in Mt 5:3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

The poor are people who have nothing. They are like Steve Martin in The Jerk, only without the ash tray, or the paddle game, or the chair, etc., etc. The poor have nothing. But that doesn’t automatically make them blessed. After all, some of them might go day after day despising their poverty, filled up with bitterness. They could hate God for it, and if they died that day they might march sullenly right down to hell. Poverty itself is not good, or a cause for happiness.

The poor in spirit might technically own some things, but they know it isn’t really theirs. They know that it all comes from God. In other words, they are people who know they have nothing and who choose to trust in their heavenly Father.

More’s Monkey

More

A rich guy can be poor in spirit—St. Thomas More had a big household, the chancellorship, loads of British currency, even a pet monkey. But he was poor in spirit; he knew at all times that they were gifts given him from God. He always knew he was just renting, with no real ownership rights. He was at all times ready to give any or all of them up, as directed by the Holy Spirit. Eventually, Thomas was asked to give them all up, and so he did.

Francesco di Bernardone and Some Guy’s Skull

St. Francis of Assisi was a rich guy, too. He had it all,and, unlike Thomas, there was no earthly pressure to give it up. But he did…he dropped everything, literally, right in the middle of a legal proceeding with Mr. Bernardone watching and everything. But Francis could not have made that break with traditional society if he was not already poor—in spirit.

“It is the Spirit that gives life,” said Jesus, “The flesh is of no avail.” If “flesh” equals “material goods of any kind,” then I can easily see why I could pile on all the flesh I like and never be “blessed.” But by the same token, I can take away all the flesh I like, too, and if I’m not poor in spirit it won’t do me any good.

The whole thing turns on being humble—consciously knowing that everything we have comes from God, including mere existence. When things get taken away (as they must), like the waves running from the shore, I have to love God just as much as when the waves were up to my waist and I was happily splashing in the water. If God makes the waves of material goods flow away, he’s still God. He’s still Dad. When I have lots of things—plenty of food for the kids, a full tank of gas in the van, a bottle of wine waiting on the counter—I know that He’s a good Dad. When the things become rare…what? Did God turn evil? Nope. I love him. I love his will, because it’s always good, and it’s always moving me towards Him.

That, at least, is what I keep telling myself. It took me nearly 42 years to get to this point so, based on that rate, and factoring in a general decline in mental acuity and physical health, I calculate that I will be The Official Next St. Francis by 2074, barring some unforeseen capitulation to the Devil involving real estate in New Zealand and an offshore bank account.

I have all the time in the world, Mr. Lord! All the time in the woooorrrrrlllld…

I Thank You!

14 May

As some TSOW readers may have gathered, my dear old Dad passed away about three weeks ago. He was a great man. I miss him–but in a healthy way, the way you miss someone you know you’ll see again some day, God willing. I want to say thank you–thank you so much–to all of you who prayed for me and my Dad, sent me emails, posted condolences on Twitter (which, I suppose, ought to be called “Tweetolences”), left warm, supportive comments either for me or by way of Hallie. So many good people out there.

And at the risk of this sounding like some kind of awards speech, I’d also like to say thank you to everybody who came out to my presentation for Theology on Tap in Cincinnati. You people were amazingly encouraging and enthusiastic. It helped a lot, I think, that your senses of humor were as offbeat as my own.

God bless everybody–is that over the top? Well, too late. I wrote it. Back again for more TSOW posts soon!

The Grateful Drunk

11 Apr

Oh boy! Another true-life tale about my fraternization with drunks and my impending canonization! It’s up right now over at that finest of websites, Creative Minority Report. If you get a moment, go check it out. And, yes, there is a brief reference to Elevator Action in it.

Life Is Beautiful

2 Apr

It’s ironic: sometimes people talk as if science has made faith irrelevant, as if some biochemist somewhere spotted godlessness in a petrie dish.

The reality is that when we use the resources of science to look at the world what we find, if our eyes are open, are the things faith already told us about: divine beauty, and a flawless maestro ordering everything with endless creativity and precision.

Pardon the poetic mist in my post today, but dig on this and you’ll see what I’m talking about:

The Manchurian Candidate

12 Nov

Allow me to describe the quaint scene at the Lord house on Saturday night at 9:30 PM: the wee ones are all nestled in their beds; Hallie is over on the couch watching girlie shows on her computer with a pair of earbuds on. I’m in my La-Z-Boy wannabe with my own pair of earbuds and my own computer.

Is this the 21st century, or what?

Ironically, I’m not watching a 21st century movie. I’m watching a really excellent film from 1962—one year before the Council Fathers published Sacrosanctum Concilium—only a theology nerd like me would make that connection. Anyway, the film is The Manchurian Candidate. This is maybe the third or fourth time I’ve seen it. It’s brilliant. With the aid of a couple of Hienekens and a couple of Jose Cuervo shots I’m PARTICULARLY perceptive, and I can tell you: The Manchurian Candidate is a great movie. Every scene is meticulously crafted. The casting is perfect; Frank Sinatra is so very good—truly an underappreciated actor. My other favorite from the film—excluding the slithery asian Communist brainwasher named Dr. Yen, of course—is Janet Leigh.

I really am an anachronism; Hallie is, too. We are both in love with bygone eras. Modern guys get all hot and bothered over modern film bombshells—but I’m left cold, people. You can keep your Megan Foxes and your Jessica Simpsons. The two most beautiful ladies in film are long dead: Marilyn Monroe and Janet Leigh. Marilyn’s just awesome: fun and silly and lovely. Janet Leigh, though: beautiful, sultry, smart, sophisticated, and, sadly, doomed to be hacked to pieces by Anthony Perkins. These women from a bygone era…there’s something there that I rarely see anymore. I know my wife’s got it—I guess that accounts for why I laid lips on her in the first place: she’s smart, sexy, silly, cute, glamorous—a Monroe/Leigh combo!!

Assuming she hasn’t been put in place by a hostile Communist regime to manipulate me into performing some heinous act, I have to admit: Hallie’s a dream come true.

My New Book! And Other Items…

21 Jul

 

Sticklebats! I can't finish this book for OSV with all the confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day...

 

You read that post title right, people! Our Sunday Visitor Publishing, mistaking me for a writer, has asked me to write a book for them! I’m extremely honored and thrilled. Unfortunately, I am contractually bound to say nothing about the topic of the book, but it IS definitely about something and I have to turn in my work this Fall.  So, pray for me, please—I mean really.

Item #2: Thank you to all of you nice people who have purchased my CD, Thumbwrestle. It gives me a lot of pleasure to keep producing music, even in my own humble, D.I.Y. way. Your support is encouraging, and it literally puts food in my multitudinous children’s mouths. I thank you on their behalf, since they aren’t supposed to talk with their mouths full.

Item #3: Speaking of CDs, I am waiting for a new batch to arrive, so you peeps who have purchased recently will have to wait an extra few days. I’m truly sorry about that, since ordinarily my middle name is Prompt. Not really…it’s Francis. Shut up.

Item #4: Finally, the book I’m writing for OSV is not Frontman, which I talk about here. I’m not sure what’s going on with that. What I’ve decided to do is write another Trilopost, similar to my How I Made Friends With the Devil Trilopost, but this one will be anecdotes from my days in Pain and how I found my way back to da Choich (that’s “the Church,” spoken like Jimmy Durante).  Look for the first SUPER-exciting installment this Friday!

So there you have it: lots of big news and exciting stuff. God bless!

Sing?!?

25 Apr

Hi everybody! If you get a minute, go read my article over at Fathers For Good–it’s about singing, or not singing, in church. A tough subject for you fellas, especially.

Also: Happy Easter, peeps!

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