Tag Archives: Bible

September 17, 2012 · 11:40 am

Never As Good?

With some regularity, I have a habit of listening to song lyrics addressing one topic, and seeing how they could be re-interpreted to address another.  In the song “Never As Good As The First Time” for example, pop-jazz singer Sade croons about how nostalgia for the past, the good memories and thoughts of what might have been, always seems better than starting over again with second chances.  ”The rose we remember,” she sings, “the thorns we forget.”  I have always thought rather a nice turn of phrase.

Now, this is not merely an excuse for me to plant a song earworm in your head, gentle reader.  Rather, I would like you to consider whether in the present age, we increasingly look at the world around us as a series of compartmentalized experiences of either roses or thorns, when the truth is that both are essential parts of the whole.  This is true not only in the romantic, as this pop song points out, but also in the broader questions of life reflecting on society as a whole, and our role within it.

This weekend I had three separate, rather long conversations with three different friends in three different cities and time zones, about the question of living out one’s purpose in life. When one is no longer young but not old YET, as Mac and Katherine Barron like to put it on the “Catholic in a Small Town” podcast, certain doors are closed. It is almost guaranteed that if you are now over 30 and have never played tennis in years, you will not now be able to dethrone Roger Federer from the top of the heap. At the same time, you are not going to be toddling your way down the hallway on a Zimmer frame for many, many years yet, so to become despondent over this realization would be the height of self-obsession.

One thing which came to light during all three of these conversations was a common perspective of a sense of uncertainty about the future, as compared to what people experienced in the past. Grandfather started working for a certain company as a young man, and stayed there for decades until his retirement, when he received his gold watch and his pension. That world in many places is already long gone; those of us in Gen X or Gen Y will most likely never experience it.  Yet however much we may bemoan the death of some of the virtues which made Grandfather’s life seemingly more certain, we compartmentalize what he went through in the Depression and World War II.

This present life promises us only one absolute, unavoidable truth, and that is that there are always going to be barbarians at the gate. It may be illness, or heartbreak, or disappointment, but it will indeed come, with the ultimate reward of leaving this life entirely.  What has happened in the Western world is particular in the second half of the 20th century, is that a majority grew up not really knowing what it was like to be hungry and cold, stalked by disease, armies, or other predators.

This is why what we see going on in places like Ireland, Spain, or Greece is so shocking to many of us in the West, even though the kinds of misery we presently see are as nothing compared to what people in the Third World go through all the time, with no hope of relief.  It is also why the Third World in so many respects is much tougher than the First: for they expect disappointment, and while they hope they will make it through today, they have no illusions that they will be cheating suffering and death of their due.  We have grown too lazy in assuming that comfort is something we are entitled to, rather than privileged to receive.

Yesterday at mass Monsignor used the Gospel reading as a jumping-off point for the exploration of these ideas of uncertainty and suffering.  We are no doubt familiar with Christ’s rebuke of St. Peter who, shortly after declaring Jesus to be the Son of God, then takes Him aside to upbraid Him for talking about His forthcoming suffering and death.  Christ then turns on him and rebukes him in front of the other disciples, warning them that if they expected to be His followers, they were going to have to accept suffering.  In his homily, Monsignor pointed out that no one likes to talk about the experience of uncertainty and suffering, or ultimately death, but Christ tells us that it is in how we accept our trials that we prove our worth.

This was further echoed in the reading at Lauds this morning, for the great Jewish heroine Judith points out to her people in the midst of a terrible crisis that:

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God who, as he tested our ancestors, is now testing us. Remember how he treated Abraham, all the ordeals of Isaac and all that happened to Jacob. For as these ordeals were intended by him to search their hearts, so now this is not vengeance that God exacts against us, but a warning inflicted by the Lord on those who are near his heart.

Judith 8: 25-26, 27

Returning to Sade, who of course is speaking of romantic love in this song rather than about the overall purpose of one’s life, reflection on what might have been and what is “rightfully” ours is a deadly exercise.  Too many spend their lives trying to recapture a moment when everything seemed wonderful and new. Or they use the irritation of suffering and loss in their lives, in the mistaken belief that by so doing they are making some sort of pearl, when in reality they are merely creating an ulcer which will eventually perforate. The line between the formation of each of these is very slim, indeed.

There is of course nothing pleasant about experiencing pain, suffering, setbacks, and loss, but we will experience all of them. If you believe that you will have everything easy in your life from now on, you are exceedingly naive and ill-prepared for what lies ahead.  Better to stay focused on the task ahead, of using your gifts and abilities for the greater good of others, in recognition of and preparation for the life to come.  It may not always be as good as the first time one experiences that thrill of something good – a first dance, a first touchdown, a first job, a first apartment – but at least we will take the future as it comes, without staying stuck in the past.


Still from the video for “Never As Good As The First Time” by Sade

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July 1, 2012 · 8:05 pm

Tangible Encouragement for a Sunday Evening

Each of the Sunday readings at mass was particularly interesting today. The text of the readings can be found here on the USCCB website. These readings have to do not only with suffering and death, which they clearly do, but also give us practical encouragements on how to deal with those more gloomy moments of life, whether they occur regularly or infrequently.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve often felt a kind of sadness on Sunday evenings, which seems odd for a day meant to be one of worship, relaxation, prayer, and recovery. There is a sense of things ending and uncertainty tomorrow, and it’s a time I personally struggle with.  This is an affliction which statistically many people who work Monday through Friday are afflicted with.  Yet we can learn how to address this through reflection on the readings today.

The Book of Wisdom for example, shares some truths which are at odds with how many people choose to look at God and at Creation. We were all made to live forever, and were not created to be evil, despite what some strains of philosophy or theology would have us believe. This ought to be an encouragement when you get to feeling, as we all do at times, that there seems to be a great deal of inexplicable suffering in the world, whether we are experiencing it ourselves or when we see other people suffering from it.

After this, the Psalmist presents us with a helpful way of looking at things, rather than assuming all is gloomy. Each day that God gives is a gift, and we need to make the best use of it that we can in following His Will.  In the Responsorial Psalm, the contrast is of night, where there is weeping, and the dawn, where there is rejoicing.

Moving on to Corinthians, the context of the reading is St. Paul asking his Christian community in Corinth to send aid to the Church in Jerusalem. I was asked earlier today whether this reading was about promoting wealth distribution, but I would suggest the better way to read it is one of charity as much as one can, when one is in a position to give.  St. Paul quotes that those who have enough already should not get more, and those who have just enough should not have less. When someone else is in need, and you have more than you need, you ought to help. We give like Christ does, not holding on to what we have but allowing it to go, freely, as His instrument.

Finally there is the long reading from St. Mark’s Gospel, containing the stories of the woman with the hemorrhage, and the raising of Jairus’ daughter. It’s interesting to note that the unnamed woman had been suffering from her illness for twelve years, and Jairus’ daughter is herself twelve years old. This little girl’s life began just as this woman’s took a turn for the worse.

We are told that the woman herself has gone through all of her money on medical treatments. We also know that under Jewish law she is ritually unclean because of her disease, and we ought to reflect on that fact rather than simply pass over it. To be separated physically from the practice of her faith in that way, at a time of great personal suffering, must be difficult for many of us to imagine – no doubt it made the emotional component of her physical suffering even worse. However as we know she has faith, and is healed when she touches Jesus’ clothing believing that He can heal her. In fact, as shown below, the story of her encounter with Christ is one of the earliest existing images in Christian art.

Jairus and his wife also have faith, and their daughter is restored to them. Note that when Jesus brings their daughter back to life, he does so only once the interlopers and professional mourners, curious neighbors and those mocking him have been thrown out of the house. No point in surrounding yourself with negative people.  And when the little girl is restored, Jesus does not stay focused on the mystical, but proceeds immediately to the practical, telling her parents to get her something to eat.  This is a rather tangible bit of aid, which might surprise us if we were just brought back from the dead, but no doubt we’d be hungry and thirsty if we had been ill, as well.

Taken together, all of these readings are telling us not to be afraid. If we see others we can help, we should help them, without focusing so much on ourselves. And when we do focus on ourselves it should be in the context of prayer and trust. Perhaps spending your Sunday night in the company of others – in person, on the phone, online, and so on – who would love a bit of company, and concluding your evening quietly with prayer such as Vespers or Compline, will be a good way of experiencing that tangible encouragement which all of us, tangible creatures that we are, very much need.  (And don’t forget to have something nice to eat, if you can.)


“Christ and the Woman with a Hemorrhage” by Unknown Artist (c. 300-350 A.D.)
Catacomb of Sts. Marcellinus and Peter, Rome

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June 3, 2012 · 5:01 pm

Gardens and Earthly Delights

At dinner last evening with a visiting priest friend, Father mentioned that he had parked a few blocks away from the restaurant, in a residential part of the neighborhood.  He noted the contrast between some of the grand old houses, and the very small ones located right alongside, and how people made an effort in this area to have their gardens look beautiful both for their own pleasure, and for other people to enjoy.  Even having lived in this neighborhood for many years, and a gardening aficionado of sorts, this observation is something that I can occasionally forget.

No doubt we have all had the sensation of reading a novel, or watching a television biography of some famous person, and seeing the exact moment when they forget what they ought to be doing and act out of selfishness and stupidity; we may even shake our heads because we can see what is coming.   Time and again we have seen people in history or heard of characters in fiction forgetting that they should always try to be grateful, and instead deciding to pursue material pleasures for which they have no real need.  And it is interesting to think about how many times a garden has factored into this equation.

Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the Garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve disobey what God told them to do, and both they and we their descendants pay the price.  They had everything they could have wanted, and they should have been grateful for it, but they were not content.  Yet it is by no means the only example from the Judeo-Christian tradition.

Having been raised up from nothing, David had been faithful to God’s Will and had been rewarded for putting his trust in the Divine and not in man.  However one night while walking in the rooftop gardens of his palace, he saw Bathsheba, wife of Uriah, taking a bath at her home next door, and he decided that he wanted more than he was permitted to have.  The rest you probably know, or can read in this excerpt from the Second Book of the Prophet Samuel.  There is a similar circumstance involving a garden and a bath in the story of Susanna and the Elders, from the Book of the Prophet Daniel.

We also read in the First Book of Kings how King Ahab threw what can only be described as a childish hissy-fit, when his neighbor Naboth refused to sell his meager vineyard.  The King wanted to convert Naboth’s plot into a garden, probably for the worship of Baal.   Queen Jezebel, not unlike King David, manages to get Naboth killed so that her husband can claim the vineyard for himself, and doom thereafter falls upon the royal family.

The garden as a beautiful place where sin and selfishness can be pursued has fascinated artists throughout the centuries. In his endlessly absorbing masterwork, “The Garden of Earthly Delights”, the Dutch painter Hieronymus Bosch (1450-1516) created a stunning triptych, or painting made up of three panels hinged together, representing the Garden of Eden on the left, a central panel with human beings romping about a garden in all sorts of excess, and a right panel depicting the torments of Hell earned through such excesses.  It is a powerful, unforgettable work, easily one of the most important Old Master paintings ever painted.

In a somewhat different vein, in the work of French painter Henri Rousseau (1844-1910) we see a different kind of garden excess, though one which is not necessarily apparent at first viewing.  Rousseau is undoubtedly most famous for his “jungle” paintings, depicting lions, tigers, and other wild beasts crouching in the underbrush of a lush forest, or chasing and eating their prey.  Yet while the artist claimed that he drew his inspiration from having visited the lush jungles of Mexico, in truth he never left France: the exotic flora and animals that filled his work were taken from his observations at Parisian botanical gardens and taxidermy exhibitions.   Rousseau could not be content with just being himself, and instead of being honest decided to make himself into a supposedly more exotic figure.

These are just a few examples of how we human beings tend to indulge our own vanity in lying, gluttony, lust, violence, and so on, in order to get more than our fair share. Even as we acknowledge that this is the case however, let us not be despondent and assume, like those who believe that human beings are nothing more than the species du jour, that all of this is for naught.  For in another garden of course, located on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, Christ showed how to break that cycle of selfishness.

If you have never seen an olive tree at first hand, or walked through a grove of them in a garden, they are wonderful things, both hideous and lovely at the same time.  The older the olive tree gets, the more gnarled and lumpy it becomes, even as its silvery, elegant leaves have been used for centuries as symbols of peace and friendship, decorating buildings and works of art all over the world.  And the more established the olive is, the more capable it is of regenerating itself and producing fruit when the tree is damaged.  This longevity can be attested to in numerous examples around the world, where olive trees that have been carbon-dated or tree-ring-dated to be thousands of years old, and are still producing bumper crops of olives every year.  This is what a garden is meant to be, rather than a place to act out of greed and selfishness.

The pleasures of a garden are many at this time of year, just before the formal beginning of summer: we can spend the long days enjoying the scents, the colors, and the sounds of life around us.  Certainly, gardens can be a bad thing if they are misused, as a way of engaging in pride at the expense of others, or indulging our own whims and selfishness, as some of the forgoing examples have shown.  Yet in the end like the lives we have ourselves been given, they are not intrinsically evil places, but rather good things we are meant to enjoy and use properly.

Perhaps next time you are out toiling in your own garden, or visiting someone else’s, it may be helpful to stop and consider whether the real delight of the garden is not so much in the taking but rather, as pointed out at the beginning of this piece, in what it gives.


“The Garden of Earthly Delights” (Detail of Left Panel)
by Hieronymus Bosch (c. 1490-1510)
The Prado, Madrid

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February 27, 2012 · 11:03 am

Lifting A Prayer on the Elevator

Much to my surprise, I was asked by Father Roderick Vonhögen to be a return guest on “Catholic Weekend” this past Saturday; you can download the episode in iTunes or listen to it on the show website.  I enjoyed myself once again, and thank both him and SQPN for the opportunity to reach an audience that might not spend a lot of time reading blogs – or at least, blogs as arguably esoteric as this one.  And as often happens in my experience, though perhaps this is simply how my brain works, a detail of the show got me to thinking about the intersection of prayer and technology.

In Saturday’s episode, Father Roderick used the audio conceit of visiting an imaginary, giant headquarters for “Catholic Weekend”, which was spread out over several virtual floors, and required the use of an elevator to reach the different parts of the building.  This got me thinking about a type of Victorian-era passenger elevator called the “paternoster”,  which I suspect few of my American readers will be familiar with, unless they have studied architecture and engineering, or have traveled to places where they are still in use.  Although there are still some of these in existence, today they are few and far between.

The paternoster gets its name from the first two words of the “Our Father” in Latin.  Its design is of a continuous loop of chain with multiple cars attached, rather than a single car system on cables, which is the type with which today we are most familiar.  This allowed the chain of compartments to slowly continue rotating, so that a passenger would not have to wait more than a few seconds for a car going up or down.  The name stuck because it was reminiscent of the rosary, which of course we Catholics use for prayer and meditation, as each decade or cycle of the rosary begins with praying the bead for the “Our Father”.

We do not see paternosters much any more, for they were an efficient but somewhat slow way to move people from one part of a tall building to another.  They could also be incredibly dangerous, depending on how they were designed.  For example, people could injure themselves getting into or out of one of the constantly moving cars, or they could fall into an open shaft between the cars, and be caught or killed.  In many places, paternosters have been banned or taken out of service, although there are a few buildings where they are still in operation and can be seen or ridden at one’s own peril.

I have always found it curious that the name “Jacob’s Ladder” wasn’t applied to this type of elevator instead.  For those of you who have forgotten your Bible stories, in Genesis 28:10-19 the Patriarch Jacob has a dream of angels going up and down a ladder from Heaven to Earth, in a continuous cycle.  This would seem to be much more analogous a popular religious concept to apply to naming this particular type of elevator.  The praying of the “Pater Noster” is the beginning of a cycle in the rosary, yes, but the rosary does eventually come to a definite end, unlike Jacob’s Ladder.  Perhaps the choice of this term betrays a lack of understanding of Catholic practice on the part of the Protestant English marketing experts who so named the device.

Although one rarely sees paternosters anymore, modern life in the West would be unrecognizable if we did not have the elevator.  Our commercial and civic buildings would be considerably shorter, for one thing, as would many residential structures.  I suspect that we would also be thinner and healthier from all the walking we would have to do, and that the landscape would be more beautiful, dotted by trees and church or city hall spires, rather than by boring glass and concrete boxes dedicated to the worship of Mammon and Narcissus.

I wonder how many of us stop to think, when we board an elevator, that we are embarking on a risky journey.  We assume that the engineer has done his work properly in designing the elevator, and that the workers have done their job properly in installing it.  And we can see the certificates placed in the car by the local authorities, telling us that the car has been inspected and met the government-required safety standards satisfactorily.  In other words, we have every possible human assurance that the elevator ride we are about to take will bring us safely to our destination.

And yet, once we step inside that car, our lives are quite literally hanging by a thread.  It is a very large and strong thread, to be sure, but that steel cable is a thread nonetheless.  We are told by our fellow human beings that it is very unlikely that anything bad will happen to us, and yet they cannot absolutely promise us that this will be the case.

I am not trying to create phobias for anyone, of course, since I have no doubt of the good work done by modern engineers to keep us safe.  Elevators are a necessary part of modern life in many instances, at least insofar as we have come to design our structures with them in mind.  Yet perhaps it would be a good practice for us, once in awhile at least, to say a prayer not only for our own safety when traveling in an elevator, but also for others who do so, and for the men and women who work to build and keep these devices safe.  As to what we ought to pray, at least for my Christian readers, saying an “Our Father” would seem to be entirely appropriate.


Detail of “Jacob’s Ladder”, Unknown Sculptor (c. 1500-1535)
Abbey of Sts. Peter & Paul, Bath, England

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