I was just going through Leonard Cohen's Book of Mercy (which I believe to be some of the most powerful spiritual writing of our time), and came across a poem/psalm that i think is a good companion to "Prayer for a time of spiritual aridity." Here it is (simply titled #9):
"Blessed are you who has given each man a shield of loneliness so that he cannot forget you. You are the truth of loneliness, and only your name addresses it. Strengthen my loneliness that I may be healed in your name, which is beyond all consolations that are uttered on this earth. Only in your name can I stand in the rush of time, only when this loneliness is yours can I lift my sins toward your mercy."
Monday, December 17, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
PRAYER FOR A TIME OF SPIRITUAL ARIDITY
Lord Jesus Christ;
When I look back on my life, I know there were times when I could feel your presence as though you were sitting right beside me. I also know there were times when it felt like we were strangers.
And I know that your love is always outreaching, but it is my own sin that blinds me from this reality.
But I also trust that there are times when you must pull back so that I may grow spiritually, like a mother who must let go of her child’s hand and step away so that the child may mature.
So like the child, I pray that when the distance between us seems great, that these times of spiritual hardship may strengthen and purify my faith—so that ultimately, I may have a greater capacity to receive your love and mercy.
I pray that in your loving wisdom, this time of spiritual aridity may become a blessing.
Amen
When I look back on my life, I know there were times when I could feel your presence as though you were sitting right beside me. I also know there were times when it felt like we were strangers.
And I know that your love is always outreaching, but it is my own sin that blinds me from this reality.
But I also trust that there are times when you must pull back so that I may grow spiritually, like a mother who must let go of her child’s hand and step away so that the child may mature.
So like the child, I pray that when the distance between us seems great, that these times of spiritual hardship may strengthen and purify my faith—so that ultimately, I may have a greater capacity to receive your love and mercy.
I pray that in your loving wisdom, this time of spiritual aridity may become a blessing.
Amen
Sunday, December 2, 2007
L'ARCHE CARRY ME
Isn’t it shocking when a cliché turns out to be true?
From December 2005 to Feb 2007 I was a live-in Assistant at L’Arche, a Christian community centered on the lives of people with disabilities (whom we refer to as the ‘Core Members’ of the community). There I lived for over a year in a common house, working with and sharing my life with 5 adults with various developmental disabilities.
And that is the key to the L’Arche philosophy, that we share our lives with our Core Members, rather than functioning as ‘staff’. The L’Arche model is more like a family than a conventional group home.
Every Sunday our house would attend Mass together at the local parish. I remember one Sunday after mass an unsuspecting priest wandered over to us as we were getting our jackets on (having noticed our wheelchair and people with Downs’ Syndrome). He said hello, we introduced ourselves, and I briefly explained L’Arche to him. His response was; “Oh, isn’t that nice… you take care of them!”
Just then out of nowhere swooped in a senior member of our community, who happened to be standing within earshot, to rebuke the priest: “No—THEY (Core Members) take care of THEM (Assistants)”. Now I had heard of this idea floating around the L’Arche culture, and assumed it was simply a pious nicety from the pen of our founder, Jean Vanier. It couldn’t possibly be true… could it? How were these poor people—some who couldn’t even move their palsied bodies, speak or tie their shoes—possibly be taking care of ‘normal’ people like me?
It wasn’t until nearly a year later that I understood what these words truly meant. By then I had left the community and moved on. Well, I was trying to. After months of job searching, with all the anxieties of unemployment, I finally found myself working in a group home for kids with behavioral and psychiatric problems. It was a horrible job and I was utterly miserable. I felt like a guard in a junior jail.
However throughout this dark time I continued to visit L’Arche—but now these visits were beginning to take on a new meaning. I realized that throughout these struggles, L’Arche was becoming my place of refuge, of communion, and of understanding… Whereas the rest of the world saw me as unemployed and drifting, my friends at L’Arche only saw me as their old friend. They didn’t see the stigma of failure that I felt plaguing me, but accepted me for who I was.
It was then that I deeply felt ‘L’Arche’ live up to its name; French for ‘Ark’, as in Noah’s Ark, a refuge from the storm of the world. But I was wrong to assume L’Arche was but a vessel to carry those with disabilities; for all along it was I that was being mysteriously carried.
From December 2005 to Feb 2007 I was a live-in Assistant at L’Arche, a Christian community centered on the lives of people with disabilities (whom we refer to as the ‘Core Members’ of the community). There I lived for over a year in a common house, working with and sharing my life with 5 adults with various developmental disabilities.
And that is the key to the L’Arche philosophy, that we share our lives with our Core Members, rather than functioning as ‘staff’. The L’Arche model is more like a family than a conventional group home.
Every Sunday our house would attend Mass together at the local parish. I remember one Sunday after mass an unsuspecting priest wandered over to us as we were getting our jackets on (having noticed our wheelchair and people with Downs’ Syndrome). He said hello, we introduced ourselves, and I briefly explained L’Arche to him. His response was; “Oh, isn’t that nice… you take care of them!”
Just then out of nowhere swooped in a senior member of our community, who happened to be standing within earshot, to rebuke the priest: “No—THEY (Core Members) take care of THEM (Assistants)”. Now I had heard of this idea floating around the L’Arche culture, and assumed it was simply a pious nicety from the pen of our founder, Jean Vanier. It couldn’t possibly be true… could it? How were these poor people—some who couldn’t even move their palsied bodies, speak or tie their shoes—possibly be taking care of ‘normal’ people like me?
It wasn’t until nearly a year later that I understood what these words truly meant. By then I had left the community and moved on. Well, I was trying to. After months of job searching, with all the anxieties of unemployment, I finally found myself working in a group home for kids with behavioral and psychiatric problems. It was a horrible job and I was utterly miserable. I felt like a guard in a junior jail.
However throughout this dark time I continued to visit L’Arche—but now these visits were beginning to take on a new meaning. I realized that throughout these struggles, L’Arche was becoming my place of refuge, of communion, and of understanding… Whereas the rest of the world saw me as unemployed and drifting, my friends at L’Arche only saw me as their old friend. They didn’t see the stigma of failure that I felt plaguing me, but accepted me for who I was.
It was then that I deeply felt ‘L’Arche’ live up to its name; French for ‘Ark’, as in Noah’s Ark, a refuge from the storm of the world. But I was wrong to assume L’Arche was but a vessel to carry those with disabilities; for all along it was I that was being mysteriously carried.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
DISGRACELAND, by Mary Karr
Before my first communion at 40, I clung
to doubt as Satan spider-like stalked
the orb of dark surrounding Eden
for a wormhole into paradise.
God had first formed me in the womb
small as a bite of burger.
Once my lungs were done
He sailed a soul like a lit arrow
to inflame me. Maybe that piercing
made me howl at birth,
or the masked creatures
whose scalpel cut a lightning bolt to free me—
I was hoisted by the heels and swatted, fed
and hauled through rooms. Time-lapse photos show
my fingers grew past crayon outlines,
my feet came to fill spike heels.
Eventually, I lurched out to kiss the wrong mouths,
get stewed, and sulk around. Christ always stood
to one side with a glass of water.
I swatted the sap away.
When my thirst got great enough
to ask, a stream welled up inside;
some jade wave buoyed me forward;
and I found myself upright
in the instant, with a garden
inside my own ribs aflourish. There, the arbor leafs.
The vines push out plump grapes.
You are loved, someone said. Take that
and eat it.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Towards A Masculine Spirituality
Anyone who has ever been to church knows that women 'rule the pews.'
Books such as Why Men Hate Going to Church and The Church Impotent: The Feminization of Christianity have grappled with this matter. For the authors of these books, it comes as no surprise that a religion whose central figure came to reveal God's unconditional love, compassion and forgiveness, should appeal predominantly to women—more specifically —middle-aged to elderly women.
By contrast Islam, the fastest growing religion in the world, appears immune to this problem. Perhaps because Islam calls its followers to live upright lives and thus partake in the cosmic battle against the forces of evil—a message that is not lost upon any man who can recall the primordial appeal of a comic book.
Maybe Christianity should follow suit in order to bring back the men? Many Christians Evangelicals do in fact promulgate such a worldview with a ‘fire and brimstone’ theology…
But I allow me to suggest another way. I am convinced that the most the most fruitful path to reclaiming a masculine spirituality does not involve taking up arms in cosmic warfare, but rather in engaging the inner struggles of the spiritual life.
In The Experience of Nothingness (1970), Michael Novak writes: "Religion is a conversion from the ordinary, given secure world into a world of nothingness, terror, and risk." As important as it is to understand and celebrate God’s merciful nature, we would be deluding ourselves in thinking that approaching God is as harmless as approaching a loving grandmother for a hug.
Approaching God is nothing short of traumatic.
I say this not to undermine God’s loving nature, but because approaching God involves awakening from our delusions, abandoning our false comforts, confronting the lies we tell ourselves—and owning up to the pain all this has caused to others, especially to those we love the most.
Think of a doctor who must break the limb of a patient so that the bones can be correctly re-set. In the spiritual life, this rebreaking is known as humility and repentance: it is the breaking that heals.
This is not to say that we must not speak of God’s love and mercy; it is only to say that we cannot talk about God without talking about the path to God, which involves intensive spiritual bravery--and even great suffering.
Theologian Karl Rahner used to pray: “Lord give me the strength and courage to be worthy of being called a Christian.” May Rahner’s prayer remind us of the masculine spirituality that has the potential bring men back to the pews.
Books such as Why Men Hate Going to Church and The Church Impotent: The Feminization of Christianity have grappled with this matter. For the authors of these books, it comes as no surprise that a religion whose central figure came to reveal God's unconditional love, compassion and forgiveness, should appeal predominantly to women—more specifically —middle-aged to elderly women.
By contrast Islam, the fastest growing religion in the world, appears immune to this problem. Perhaps because Islam calls its followers to live upright lives and thus partake in the cosmic battle against the forces of evil—a message that is not lost upon any man who can recall the primordial appeal of a comic book.
Maybe Christianity should follow suit in order to bring back the men? Many Christians Evangelicals do in fact promulgate such a worldview with a ‘fire and brimstone’ theology…
But I allow me to suggest another way. I am convinced that the most the most fruitful path to reclaiming a masculine spirituality does not involve taking up arms in cosmic warfare, but rather in engaging the inner struggles of the spiritual life.
In The Experience of Nothingness (1970), Michael Novak writes: "Religion is a conversion from the ordinary, given secure world into a world of nothingness, terror, and risk." As important as it is to understand and celebrate God’s merciful nature, we would be deluding ourselves in thinking that approaching God is as harmless as approaching a loving grandmother for a hug.
Approaching God is nothing short of traumatic.
I say this not to undermine God’s loving nature, but because approaching God involves awakening from our delusions, abandoning our false comforts, confronting the lies we tell ourselves—and owning up to the pain all this has caused to others, especially to those we love the most.
Think of a doctor who must break the limb of a patient so that the bones can be correctly re-set. In the spiritual life, this rebreaking is known as humility and repentance: it is the breaking that heals.
This is not to say that we must not speak of God’s love and mercy; it is only to say that we cannot talk about God without talking about the path to God, which involves intensive spiritual bravery--and even great suffering.
Theologian Karl Rahner used to pray: “Lord give me the strength and courage to be worthy of being called a Christian.” May Rahner’s prayer remind us of the masculine spirituality that has the potential bring men back to the pews.
Monday, October 22, 2007
SIN AND SELF-IMAGE
People are always badgering Christians for being ‘too hard on themselves’.
I couldn’t agree more.
As Christians we often think of ourselves as totally wretched, lacking any intrinsic value outside of our faith. But the problem with this notion is that it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy, sending us into endless cycles of fall>rescue behavior.
If we truly believe that deep down we are genuinely worthless people wrapped in a thin coating of grace, we set ourselves up for failure. The odds are that when crunch time comes (stress, relationship problems, etc) we are more likely to make bad decisions because we genuinely believe we are wicked at heart.
In other words, if we have a deeply negative self-image, this will (mis)direct our behavior at those crucial moments of decision, those moments of weakness when we most need to be reminded of our innate value and goodness.
For instance, if my faith leads me to the conclusion that: ‘I'm basically a louse, but God loves me anyways,’ I’m holding a theological view that is more likely to allow me to re-offend than if I really believe: ‘I may be fallen but I’m essentially good, because at heart I’m made in the image of our loving God.’
This is why I suspect that our critics are right; Christians are ‘too hard on themselves’ if the Fall eclipses the innate goodness of Creation. And besides, if we were intrinsically worthless, why God would go through all that trouble of becoming man, suffering and dying on a cross?
Perhaps as part of our spiritual practice, we should seriously examine how our theology informs our self-image, and discern whether or not this is helping or hurting our call to holiness.
I couldn’t agree more.
As Christians we often think of ourselves as totally wretched, lacking any intrinsic value outside of our faith. But the problem with this notion is that it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy, sending us into endless cycles of fall>rescue behavior.
If we truly believe that deep down we are genuinely worthless people wrapped in a thin coating of grace, we set ourselves up for failure. The odds are that when crunch time comes (stress, relationship problems, etc) we are more likely to make bad decisions because we genuinely believe we are wicked at heart.
In other words, if we have a deeply negative self-image, this will (mis)direct our behavior at those crucial moments of decision, those moments of weakness when we most need to be reminded of our innate value and goodness.
For instance, if my faith leads me to the conclusion that: ‘I'm basically a louse, but God loves me anyways,’ I’m holding a theological view that is more likely to allow me to re-offend than if I really believe: ‘I may be fallen but I’m essentially good, because at heart I’m made in the image of our loving God.’
This is why I suspect that our critics are right; Christians are ‘too hard on themselves’ if the Fall eclipses the innate goodness of Creation. And besides, if we were intrinsically worthless, why God would go through all that trouble of becoming man, suffering and dying on a cross?
Perhaps as part of our spiritual practice, we should seriously examine how our theology informs our self-image, and discern whether or not this is helping or hurting our call to holiness.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
On Spirituality and Running
Along with summer comes the obligatory attempt to get into shape. What I’ve been doing lately is running, which I try to do 45mins-1hr every morning. Since I don’t have a running partner, it gives me a lot of time to reflect; and my mind quite often goes to the subject of, well, running. Distance, time, technique… but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the psychology of running, which I think touches on something very fundamental about spirituality. Let me try and explain.
What I’ve noticed is that I generally have two types of runs: 1) the Obligatory Run, and 2) the Rejuvenating Run. With the Obligatory Run it’s a struggle to even get my shoes on, I have to force it, I don’t want to be there, I’m punching the clock and just want it to be over. The Rejuvenating run is the exact opposite; I’m happy to be out there, I’m pushing myself, I’m enjoying it, I’m in ‘The Zone.’
I had a parallel experience in prayer the other day as I caught myself ‘putting in the time’, which made me realize that my spiritual life was caught up in the same dynamic—that of ‘obligatory’ spiritual work, offset by experiences of grace where I feel close to God and that prayer is second nature.
I suspect this tension is simply the reality of being human; in whatever we do, we’re going to have good experiences and bad ones. But regardless, I think that within the framework of our inevitable limitations, we can still move towards improvement and growth.
But how?
I think that regardless of what we find ourselves doing—whether in prayer or ‘in the world’, cultivating a spirit of presence, attentiveness and intentionality can move us towards inner growth and richness of experience. The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber devoted his masterpiece I and Thou to this question, which he explores with an unsurpassed poetic depth;
“In every sphere, in every relational act, through everything that becomes present to us, we gaze towards the train of the eternal You; in each we perceive a breath of it; in every You we address the eternal you, in every sphere according to its manner. All spheres are included in it while it is included in none. Through all of them shines the One presence.”
Entering into this sacred communion requires a contemplativeness in which our hearts are open to this mysterious presence in all things. In one of my favorite films, The Thin Red Line, the character of Pt. Witt (played by Jim Caviezel) reflects on the death of his mother and his own mortality. Through the immense dignity and peace in which his mother responds to her own immanent death gives him an epiphany into the deeper reality hidden all around us. This gives us a deeper sense of what Buber is alluding to (and imagine hearing the following narrated though a lazy southern drawl);
“I remember my mother when she was dyin', looked all shrunk up and gray. I asked her if she was afraid; she just shook her head… But I was afraid to touch the death I seen in her. I couldn't find nothin' beautiful or upliftin ‘bout her goin' back to God... I heard of people talk about immortality, but I ain't seen it… I wondered how it'd be like when I died—what it'd be like to know this breath now was the last one you was ever gonna draw. I just hope I can meet it the same way she did, with the same... calm. 'Cause that's where it's hidden—the immortality I hadn't seen.”
Indeed, that ‘immortality’ is hidden in the calm. Epistemologically, this is consistent with religious philosophers whom argue that God’s hidden-ness is a prerequisite for human freedom. In other words, God must hide because if He were ever-present and in-our-face, we would be so overwhelmed that our freedom would be rendered meaningless. So if God is hidden and yet—as we know through revelation history—wanting a relationship with us, then contemplation is a vital window for that communion.
Novelist Franz Kafka came to a similar insight. Though the nature of Kafka’s faith may be debatable, he recognized that entering this contemplative space was the key to his creativity, and his advice to fellow writers was the following: “You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”
But the point is simply this; whether we are writing, praying, running or even pumping gas, the key to a rich spiritual life is to be ever-mindful of God’s presence hidden all around us. I truly believe that it is our universal vocation to get into this contemplative habit—and through prayer, nourishment from the sacraments, and compassionate relationships—we can move towards sanctification; even from within the tension of our human limitations.
What I’ve noticed is that I generally have two types of runs: 1) the Obligatory Run, and 2) the Rejuvenating Run. With the Obligatory Run it’s a struggle to even get my shoes on, I have to force it, I don’t want to be there, I’m punching the clock and just want it to be over. The Rejuvenating run is the exact opposite; I’m happy to be out there, I’m pushing myself, I’m enjoying it, I’m in ‘The Zone.’
I had a parallel experience in prayer the other day as I caught myself ‘putting in the time’, which made me realize that my spiritual life was caught up in the same dynamic—that of ‘obligatory’ spiritual work, offset by experiences of grace where I feel close to God and that prayer is second nature.
I suspect this tension is simply the reality of being human; in whatever we do, we’re going to have good experiences and bad ones. But regardless, I think that within the framework of our inevitable limitations, we can still move towards improvement and growth.
But how?
I think that regardless of what we find ourselves doing—whether in prayer or ‘in the world’, cultivating a spirit of presence, attentiveness and intentionality can move us towards inner growth and richness of experience. The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber devoted his masterpiece I and Thou to this question, which he explores with an unsurpassed poetic depth;
“In every sphere, in every relational act, through everything that becomes present to us, we gaze towards the train of the eternal You; in each we perceive a breath of it; in every You we address the eternal you, in every sphere according to its manner. All spheres are included in it while it is included in none. Through all of them shines the One presence.”
Entering into this sacred communion requires a contemplativeness in which our hearts are open to this mysterious presence in all things. In one of my favorite films, The Thin Red Line, the character of Pt. Witt (played by Jim Caviezel) reflects on the death of his mother and his own mortality. Through the immense dignity and peace in which his mother responds to her own immanent death gives him an epiphany into the deeper reality hidden all around us. This gives us a deeper sense of what Buber is alluding to (and imagine hearing the following narrated though a lazy southern drawl);
“I remember my mother when she was dyin', looked all shrunk up and gray. I asked her if she was afraid; she just shook her head… But I was afraid to touch the death I seen in her. I couldn't find nothin' beautiful or upliftin ‘bout her goin' back to God... I heard of people talk about immortality, but I ain't seen it… I wondered how it'd be like when I died—what it'd be like to know this breath now was the last one you was ever gonna draw. I just hope I can meet it the same way she did, with the same... calm. 'Cause that's where it's hidden—the immortality I hadn't seen.”
Indeed, that ‘immortality’ is hidden in the calm. Epistemologically, this is consistent with religious philosophers whom argue that God’s hidden-ness is a prerequisite for human freedom. In other words, God must hide because if He were ever-present and in-our-face, we would be so overwhelmed that our freedom would be rendered meaningless. So if God is hidden and yet—as we know through revelation history—wanting a relationship with us, then contemplation is a vital window for that communion.
Novelist Franz Kafka came to a similar insight. Though the nature of Kafka’s faith may be debatable, he recognized that entering this contemplative space was the key to his creativity, and his advice to fellow writers was the following: “You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”
But the point is simply this; whether we are writing, praying, running or even pumping gas, the key to a rich spiritual life is to be ever-mindful of God’s presence hidden all around us. I truly believe that it is our universal vocation to get into this contemplative habit—and through prayer, nourishment from the sacraments, and compassionate relationships—we can move towards sanctification; even from within the tension of our human limitations.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
WHEN THEY SAID REPENT, I WONDER WHAT THEY MEANT?
The looks I get when I tell people confession is my favorite sacrament… confession gets no respect.
But that’s because sin gets no respect.
The geniuses of our time have ‘figured out’ how Catholicism hooks people: it makes them feel guilty and then offers the cure. It dispenses the poison (guilt) to which it offers the only antidote in town (salvation).
That’s why were not supposed to feel guilty about our behavior; but only ‘accept ourselves,’ get counseling or some new pill. Morality is being clinicalized, rationalized, pharmacologized away. The only remaining sin in the modern world is that of feeling guilt.
But sin is real, and until we appreciate its gravity we cannot possibly know the grace of God’s mercy. Richard Rohr writes:
“Until you come to the point when you realize how many people you’ve hurt and how you’ve kept your own self back from truth and light by your own sin; so you want to cry over it—you haven’t really seen how bad sin is, how dark it can be, and how much it can keep you back from God and from truth.”
When a growing awareness of this truth weighs upon our conscience we experience guilt—which is a sign of a healthy conscience rather than a pathology. I would argue that the greater pathology is the need to rationalize away the inner life of the spirit. But unfortunately, modern man seems to have declared war on his own soul. In one of my favorite quotes on the spiritual life, Eric Voegelin explains why this may be:
“Ontologically, the substance of things hoped for is nowhere to be found but in faith itself; and, epistemologically, there is no proof for things unseen but again this very faith. The bond is tenuous, indeed, and it may snap easily, The life of the soul in openness towards God, the waiting, the periods of aridity and dullness, the guilt and despondency, contrition and repentance, forsaken and hope against hope, the silent stirrings of love and grace, trembling on the verge of certainty which if gained, is loss—the lightness of this fabric may prove too heavy a burden for men who lust after the massively possessive experience.”
Spiritual growth then involves turning towards the Divine Ground (Voegelin’s term for God), which is turning towards Reality itself. And the path from here to there runs directly through our weakness, directly through our sin. We cannot move closer to God without dealing with what obstructs us from God—and this is where the sacrament of reconciliation is critical. In the confessional we call ourselves to account before God, asking forgiveness for having separated ourselves from His love.
But this is not a masochistic act: the joy and the point of this sacrament is in the sunshine after the rain—our reconciliation with God. Every confession is literally a homecoming, and we are all Prodigal Sons and Daughters. Confession sounds brutal to modern ears—deafened by the hysterics of guilt—but this is truly a gift of healing: so much so that St Isaac of Syria would pray in gratitude: “It is THOU who grantest repentance and a sorrowing heart to the sinner who repents and THOU who easest his heart of the weight of sin upon it, thanks to the comfort of sorrowing and the gift of tears.”
But that’s because sin gets no respect.
The geniuses of our time have ‘figured out’ how Catholicism hooks people: it makes them feel guilty and then offers the cure. It dispenses the poison (guilt) to which it offers the only antidote in town (salvation).
That’s why were not supposed to feel guilty about our behavior; but only ‘accept ourselves,’ get counseling or some new pill. Morality is being clinicalized, rationalized, pharmacologized away. The only remaining sin in the modern world is that of feeling guilt.
But sin is real, and until we appreciate its gravity we cannot possibly know the grace of God’s mercy. Richard Rohr writes:
“Until you come to the point when you realize how many people you’ve hurt and how you’ve kept your own self back from truth and light by your own sin; so you want to cry over it—you haven’t really seen how bad sin is, how dark it can be, and how much it can keep you back from God and from truth.”
When a growing awareness of this truth weighs upon our conscience we experience guilt—which is a sign of a healthy conscience rather than a pathology. I would argue that the greater pathology is the need to rationalize away the inner life of the spirit. But unfortunately, modern man seems to have declared war on his own soul. In one of my favorite quotes on the spiritual life, Eric Voegelin explains why this may be:
“Ontologically, the substance of things hoped for is nowhere to be found but in faith itself; and, epistemologically, there is no proof for things unseen but again this very faith. The bond is tenuous, indeed, and it may snap easily, The life of the soul in openness towards God, the waiting, the periods of aridity and dullness, the guilt and despondency, contrition and repentance, forsaken and hope against hope, the silent stirrings of love and grace, trembling on the verge of certainty which if gained, is loss—the lightness of this fabric may prove too heavy a burden for men who lust after the massively possessive experience.”
Spiritual growth then involves turning towards the Divine Ground (Voegelin’s term for God), which is turning towards Reality itself. And the path from here to there runs directly through our weakness, directly through our sin. We cannot move closer to God without dealing with what obstructs us from God—and this is where the sacrament of reconciliation is critical. In the confessional we call ourselves to account before God, asking forgiveness for having separated ourselves from His love.
But this is not a masochistic act: the joy and the point of this sacrament is in the sunshine after the rain—our reconciliation with God. Every confession is literally a homecoming, and we are all Prodigal Sons and Daughters. Confession sounds brutal to modern ears—deafened by the hysterics of guilt—but this is truly a gift of healing: so much so that St Isaac of Syria would pray in gratitude: “It is THOU who grantest repentance and a sorrowing heart to the sinner who repents and THOU who easest his heart of the weight of sin upon it, thanks to the comfort of sorrowing and the gift of tears.”
Monday, July 23, 2007
THE DEVIL’S SECOND GREATEST TRICK
Q: What is the Devil’s greatest trick?
A: To make us think he doesn’t exist.
But today the Devil has a greater trick: Convincing us that nothing is more ‘Christian’ than abolishing Christianity.
We hear it all the time: in order to be ‘open’, progressive, modern, even democratic, we must abandon the notion that The Truth exists and accept that postmodern view that truth is relative to persons, cultures, and of course, religions. Pope Benedict notes how this view has grown immeasurably in stature: “In a sense, relativism, in certain respects, has become the real modern religion.”
Benedict continues; “The belief that there is indeed a truth, valid and binding within history itself in the figure of Jesus Christ and in the faith of the church is referred to as Fundamentalism.” And of course, Fundamentalism is the cardinal sin of modern civilization.
Hence the Devil’s trick—to convince us that we must give up being orthodox Christians in order to be truly enlightened and peaceable persons.
But this view also takes on the most serious political connotations as Bush and Bin Laden are lumped together and portrayed as ‘proof’ of the modern mantra that Fundamentalism Kills. This is also known as the ‘John Lennon’ school of thought: Imagine no religion to die for, and the world will live as one… (that is, until the murderous barbarism of atheistic Communism debunked that fantasy). Relativism also provides the philosophical underpinnings for the abortion movement, embodied in the slogan, ‘My Body, My choice.’
But as Leonard Cohen sings, “The Dealer’s got you thinking, that it’s either black or white / Thank God it’s not that simple, in my secret life.” The choice between Relativist and Fundamentalism is of course a false choice, designed to stack the deck against Christians lacking the theological savvy to parry the blow.
The Catholic position however presents a third way, referred to by religious philosophers as Religious Inclusivism—which is the position articulated by the Second Vatican Council. It maintains that Truth indeed exists, and is present in its fullness in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, but it does not discredit that elements of truth and grace are also present in the great religions of the world, especially in Islam and Judaism, the ‘People of the Book.’ But until Catholics put in the effort to actually get to know the teachings of their faith, the currents of Relativism will continue to dwindle the ranks of the faithful.
I cannot over-emphasize the gravity of this question. And it is not just a matter for navel-gazing philosophers and theologians: hanging in the balance is not only the salvation of souls and the protection of the unborn, but also the fate of millions in the mid-east. Will we lose our nerve and abandon the region to Terrorists and Mullahs, backed by a nuclear capable Iran; or will we have faith in the universal values of freedom and human dignity and gather the conviction to bring stability, democracy and human rights to the region?
As it turns out, the fate of the Muslim world depends upon how we see ourselves:
If we succumb to the pathological currents of western self-hatred--seeing ourselves as agents of Big Oil on a Neo-Imperialist 'Crusade'--then we will pull out because we don't believe in our cause. But if we believe in the good of our way of life and see the universal value of a free and open society, then we will push ahead in this Great Transformation.
---------------
To anyone interested in exploring this question further I recommend: WITHOUT ROOTS by Pope Benedict and Marcello Pera.
A: To make us think he doesn’t exist.
But today the Devil has a greater trick: Convincing us that nothing is more ‘Christian’ than abolishing Christianity.
We hear it all the time: in order to be ‘open’, progressive, modern, even democratic, we must abandon the notion that The Truth exists and accept that postmodern view that truth is relative to persons, cultures, and of course, religions. Pope Benedict notes how this view has grown immeasurably in stature: “In a sense, relativism, in certain respects, has become the real modern religion.”
Benedict continues; “The belief that there is indeed a truth, valid and binding within history itself in the figure of Jesus Christ and in the faith of the church is referred to as Fundamentalism.” And of course, Fundamentalism is the cardinal sin of modern civilization.
Hence the Devil’s trick—to convince us that we must give up being orthodox Christians in order to be truly enlightened and peaceable persons.
But this view also takes on the most serious political connotations as Bush and Bin Laden are lumped together and portrayed as ‘proof’ of the modern mantra that Fundamentalism Kills. This is also known as the ‘John Lennon’ school of thought: Imagine no religion to die for, and the world will live as one… (that is, until the murderous barbarism of atheistic Communism debunked that fantasy). Relativism also provides the philosophical underpinnings for the abortion movement, embodied in the slogan, ‘My Body, My choice.’
But as Leonard Cohen sings, “The Dealer’s got you thinking, that it’s either black or white / Thank God it’s not that simple, in my secret life.” The choice between Relativist and Fundamentalism is of course a false choice, designed to stack the deck against Christians lacking the theological savvy to parry the blow.
The Catholic position however presents a third way, referred to by religious philosophers as Religious Inclusivism—which is the position articulated by the Second Vatican Council. It maintains that Truth indeed exists, and is present in its fullness in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, but it does not discredit that elements of truth and grace are also present in the great religions of the world, especially in Islam and Judaism, the ‘People of the Book.’ But until Catholics put in the effort to actually get to know the teachings of their faith, the currents of Relativism will continue to dwindle the ranks of the faithful.
I cannot over-emphasize the gravity of this question. And it is not just a matter for navel-gazing philosophers and theologians: hanging in the balance is not only the salvation of souls and the protection of the unborn, but also the fate of millions in the mid-east. Will we lose our nerve and abandon the region to Terrorists and Mullahs, backed by a nuclear capable Iran; or will we have faith in the universal values of freedom and human dignity and gather the conviction to bring stability, democracy and human rights to the region?
As it turns out, the fate of the Muslim world depends upon how we see ourselves:
If we succumb to the pathological currents of western self-hatred--seeing ourselves as agents of Big Oil on a Neo-Imperialist 'Crusade'--then we will pull out because we don't believe in our cause. But if we believe in the good of our way of life and see the universal value of a free and open society, then we will push ahead in this Great Transformation.
---------------
To anyone interested in exploring this question further I recommend: WITHOUT ROOTS by Pope Benedict and Marcello Pera.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
ANOTHER PORN MYTH EXPLODED
Once First Amendment arguments are exhausted, advocates of pornography will often turn to the ‘substitution theory’ to defend this horrible industry. The argument goes something like this: “Although we may not like porn or find it distasteful, isn’t it better that people who have these deviant desires channel them through a ‘fantasy outlet’ rather than acting them out in society?” In this view, porn is actually doing a public service by redirecting deviant sexual desire towards the realm of the imaginary.
But this argument is coming under attack by an alarming new study that was just reported in the New York Times, which found that 85% men who downloaded child pornography had a history of sexually abusing children, from inappropriate touching to rape. The research was carried out by psychologists at the U.S. Federal Bureau of Prisons and is the first in-depth survey of such online offenders' sexual behaviour done by prison therapists who were actively performing treatment.
What we may reasonably extrapolate from this empirical evidence is that porn does not redirect desire away from society towards the harmless realm of the imaginary—rather the opposite—porn could in fact be nurturing deviant desire, turning men into monsters. And yes, it is true that this study was specific to pedophiles, but are they so different in terms of their mechanisms of desire? Why should we not also extrapolate that porn distorts sexual behavior in general? After such findings, can anyone really believe that all the obscene smut out there continues to orbit in some harmless fantasy dimension?
And as porn becomes increasingly brutal, the danger becomes ever graver. Prof Robert Jensen of the University of Texas has chronicled the shocking encroachment of explicit cruelty and brutality into mainstream porn. In his article, “A cruel edge: The painful truth about today's pornography -- and what men can do about it” he writes: “When the legal restrictions on pornography slowly receded through the 1970s and ‘80s, and the presentation of sex on the screen was by itself no longer quite so illicit, anal sex became a standard feature. Anal sex was seen as something most women don’t want; it had an edge to it. When anal sex became routine in pornography, the gonzo genre started pushing the boundaries into things like double-penetrations and gag-inducing oral sex – again, acts that men believe women generally will not want. The more pornography becomes normalized and mainstreamed, the more pornography has to search for that edge.”
As far as combating the scourge of pornography, Jensen is realistic about the challenges, yet maintains the moral high-ground: “To criticize pornography is not repressive. To speak about what one knows and feels and dreams is, in fact, liberating. We are not free if we aren’t free to talk about our desire for an egalitarian intimacy and sexuality that would reject pain and humiliation. That is not prudishness or censorship. It is an attempt to claim the best parts of our common humanity -- love, caring, empathy, solidarity. To do that is not to limit anyone. It is to say that people matter more than the profits of pornographers and the pleasure of pornography consumers. It is to say, simply, that women count as much as men.”
To this I can only add, “Amen.”
-------------------
To view the news article visit:
http://www.thestar.com/living/article/237841
For Robert Jensen’s, “The painful truth about today's pornography -- and what men can do about it” visit:
http://uts.cc.utexas.edu/%7Erjensen/freelance/pornography&cruelty.htm
But this argument is coming under attack by an alarming new study that was just reported in the New York Times, which found that 85% men who downloaded child pornography had a history of sexually abusing children, from inappropriate touching to rape. The research was carried out by psychologists at the U.S. Federal Bureau of Prisons and is the first in-depth survey of such online offenders' sexual behaviour done by prison therapists who were actively performing treatment.
What we may reasonably extrapolate from this empirical evidence is that porn does not redirect desire away from society towards the harmless realm of the imaginary—rather the opposite—porn could in fact be nurturing deviant desire, turning men into monsters. And yes, it is true that this study was specific to pedophiles, but are they so different in terms of their mechanisms of desire? Why should we not also extrapolate that porn distorts sexual behavior in general? After such findings, can anyone really believe that all the obscene smut out there continues to orbit in some harmless fantasy dimension?
And as porn becomes increasingly brutal, the danger becomes ever graver. Prof Robert Jensen of the University of Texas has chronicled the shocking encroachment of explicit cruelty and brutality into mainstream porn. In his article, “A cruel edge: The painful truth about today's pornography -- and what men can do about it” he writes: “When the legal restrictions on pornography slowly receded through the 1970s and ‘80s, and the presentation of sex on the screen was by itself no longer quite so illicit, anal sex became a standard feature. Anal sex was seen as something most women don’t want; it had an edge to it. When anal sex became routine in pornography, the gonzo genre started pushing the boundaries into things like double-penetrations and gag-inducing oral sex – again, acts that men believe women generally will not want. The more pornography becomes normalized and mainstreamed, the more pornography has to search for that edge.”
As far as combating the scourge of pornography, Jensen is realistic about the challenges, yet maintains the moral high-ground: “To criticize pornography is not repressive. To speak about what one knows and feels and dreams is, in fact, liberating. We are not free if we aren’t free to talk about our desire for an egalitarian intimacy and sexuality that would reject pain and humiliation. That is not prudishness or censorship. It is an attempt to claim the best parts of our common humanity -- love, caring, empathy, solidarity. To do that is not to limit anyone. It is to say that people matter more than the profits of pornographers and the pleasure of pornography consumers. It is to say, simply, that women count as much as men.”
To this I can only add, “Amen.”
-------------------
To view the news article visit:
http://www.thestar.com/living/article/237841
For Robert Jensen’s, “The painful truth about today's pornography -- and what men can do about it” visit:
http://uts.cc.utexas.edu/%7Erjensen/freelance/pornography&cruelty.htm
Thursday, July 19, 2007
ON FORGIVENESS
Forgiveness is something I've long struggled with... definitely.
It was the question of responsibility that got me. I was afraid that forgiving meant condoning the person. So if someone was violent and hurt me, I thought forgiving was sending the wrong message, which was: "It's ok... I accept your violence, you dont have to change." And in that sense, i feared forgiveness could actuallty be dangerous.
So I would only forgive if i saw some kind of change in the person.
But then Jesus says "forgive 70 x 7." which basically means, forgive without limits. So how could it be ethical to withhold forgiveness? Can you forgive freely? Have you known the poverty of your forgiveness?
But that was my problem -- thinking of forgiveness as a stamp of approval -- like, "Now you can be forgiven BECAUSE youve changed, apologised, repented, or whatever. NOW youre worthy...'
In time I learned I this understanding was false. Not because it wasn't justified, but because it was failing. Because i was failing. Witholding forgveness wasn't healing anything. There were no fruits. It was only hardening people against me, and vice versa.
So now my approach is far less dramatic. It doesnt depend on massive change or conditions. Its just saying to the person "You've hurt me, but im not giving up on you. You're still in the circle."
And its realizing the circle is filled with people who are imperfect and that one day might hurt me -- just as I am imperfect and have hurt so many people whose circles ive stood inside.
*
And the mystery of it? All the while I thought forgiveness meant opening the door to others. But really, it was the door that was being opened to me. Because as I let those people back into my circle, it was really me that was being let back into the big circle, the circle of Love, of Being, of God -- whatever you want to call it.
And I pray that one day, all our circles may be complete.
It was the question of responsibility that got me. I was afraid that forgiving meant condoning the person. So if someone was violent and hurt me, I thought forgiving was sending the wrong message, which was: "It's ok... I accept your violence, you dont have to change." And in that sense, i feared forgiveness could actuallty be dangerous.
So I would only forgive if i saw some kind of change in the person.
But then Jesus says "forgive 70 x 7." which basically means, forgive without limits. So how could it be ethical to withhold forgiveness? Can you forgive freely? Have you known the poverty of your forgiveness?
But that was my problem -- thinking of forgiveness as a stamp of approval -- like, "Now you can be forgiven BECAUSE youve changed, apologised, repented, or whatever. NOW youre worthy...'
In time I learned I this understanding was false. Not because it wasn't justified, but because it was failing. Because i was failing. Witholding forgveness wasn't healing anything. There were no fruits. It was only hardening people against me, and vice versa.
So now my approach is far less dramatic. It doesnt depend on massive change or conditions. Its just saying to the person "You've hurt me, but im not giving up on you. You're still in the circle."
And its realizing the circle is filled with people who are imperfect and that one day might hurt me -- just as I am imperfect and have hurt so many people whose circles ive stood inside.
*
And the mystery of it? All the while I thought forgiveness meant opening the door to others. But really, it was the door that was being opened to me. Because as I let those people back into my circle, it was really me that was being let back into the big circle, the circle of Love, of Being, of God -- whatever you want to call it.
And I pray that one day, all our circles may be complete.
STILL, YA GOTTA SERVE SOMEBODY
“You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride,
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side,
You may be workin' in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair,
You may be somebody's mistress, may be somebody's heir
But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.”
-Bob Dylan
To be perfectly honest, when I first heard Gotta Serve Somebody, Bob Dylan’s Born Again masterpiece, I was embarrassed for him. Here was the ambassador of progressive politics preaching a message of primitive dualism… black or white, good vs evil.
But how the times have a-changed.
Since Dec of 2005 I’ve been living and working in group homes for
people with special needs. I began at L’arche, living in a faith-based community centered on the lives of adults with developmental disabilities including Downs Syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, as well as more general disorders. And as of this past May, I began another job in a foster home for children with behavioral and psychiatric disorders, often the result of neglect, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Asperger’s syndrome, ADHD, bipolar disorder, etc.
What I’ve gathered from this experience is a profound realization about the nature of human growth as it relates to the core insight of Christianity. Let me start by clarifying this core spiritual insight which has been called the Law of the Cross. Our tradition teaches that Jesus redeems the world through his death and resurrection, and in faith we are called to take up our own cross. Thus in our own lives we walk the path that Jesus walked, turning hatred into love, harm into healing, injury into forgiveness. And we must constantly turn to God for the power to forgive, to love, and to be merciful when our impulses tell us otherwise.
But what is remarkable about the Christian faith and what makes it ring so true for me personally, is the universality of this spiritual maxim.
What I can say from having worked with people on the margins is that regardless of our lot in life—whether we have been born with Downs syndrome, come from a background of terrible abuse, or have been born healthy and privileged—the same dynamic of spiritual growth applies. No matter who we are, God is calling each and every one of us to let go of our hurts, disarm our hearts, and to become loving and merciful as our heavenly Father.
And of course progress is always relative; if the parable of the Prodigal Son tells us anything, it’s that God has a special place in His heart for those who are furthest from Him. From the perspective of God, the emotionally damaged teen who realizes that self-harm is not a good way to get attention or to deal with frustrations is just as significant as the investment banker who decides to be donate to charity or simply be kinder to his secretary. The path to spiritual growth is universal, even if we access it at different points.
We may however see this as an unrealistic if not cruel expectation for someone born into horrifying abuse or an overwhelmingly profound disability. To this I would say two things:
1) Trust in the hidden life of the spirit.
In extreme cases (take for example the recent Terri Schiavo case), a person may seem ‘trapped’ behind a disability, unable to move voluntarily or communicate in any way. We may even wonder if that person is experiencing any significant form of consciousness.
But even in those hardship cases we must never discount the hidden life of the spirit. We can only pray that those people are being inwardly consoled and nourished by the mercy of God.
2) With God, It’s Never Hopeless
When suffering seems empty and utterly destructive, lacking any possible redemptive value, we must resist the seduction of despair and trust that nothing is outside of God’s redemptive will. Everyday we see tragedy that challenges our faith: What kind of God could allow for that? Why is suffering so overwhelmingly destructive, rather than redemptive?
In these situations, hold to the bigger picture: perhaps in this life a person was unable to grow through adversity, but Christians believe that death is not the end. Thus the afterlife must be viewed in continuity with our purpose here on earth. Consider that the journey continues on the other side of death, so even if spiritual progress seemed limited on earth, our path to growth does not end. Even in those heartbreaking situations, God may be ‘writing straight with crooked lines.’
So now when I hear Dylan’s Gotta Serve Somebody, I can appreciate the wisdom of that ‘primitive’ world view, and I suppose that’s why it’s endured: if there was no truth to it I suppose people wouldn’t be singing about it—not to mention turning their lives around because of it—all these thousands of years later.
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side,
You may be workin' in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair,
You may be somebody's mistress, may be somebody's heir
But you're gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You're gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody.”
-Bob Dylan
To be perfectly honest, when I first heard Gotta Serve Somebody, Bob Dylan’s Born Again masterpiece, I was embarrassed for him. Here was the ambassador of progressive politics preaching a message of primitive dualism… black or white, good vs evil.
But how the times have a-changed.
Since Dec of 2005 I’ve been living and working in group homes for
people with special needs. I began at L’arche, living in a faith-based community centered on the lives of adults with developmental disabilities including Downs Syndrome, autism, cerebral palsy, as well as more general disorders. And as of this past May, I began another job in a foster home for children with behavioral and psychiatric disorders, often the result of neglect, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Asperger’s syndrome, ADHD, bipolar disorder, etc.
What I’ve gathered from this experience is a profound realization about the nature of human growth as it relates to the core insight of Christianity. Let me start by clarifying this core spiritual insight which has been called the Law of the Cross. Our tradition teaches that Jesus redeems the world through his death and resurrection, and in faith we are called to take up our own cross. Thus in our own lives we walk the path that Jesus walked, turning hatred into love, harm into healing, injury into forgiveness. And we must constantly turn to God for the power to forgive, to love, and to be merciful when our impulses tell us otherwise.
But what is remarkable about the Christian faith and what makes it ring so true for me personally, is the universality of this spiritual maxim.
What I can say from having worked with people on the margins is that regardless of our lot in life—whether we have been born with Downs syndrome, come from a background of terrible abuse, or have been born healthy and privileged—the same dynamic of spiritual growth applies. No matter who we are, God is calling each and every one of us to let go of our hurts, disarm our hearts, and to become loving and merciful as our heavenly Father.
And of course progress is always relative; if the parable of the Prodigal Son tells us anything, it’s that God has a special place in His heart for those who are furthest from Him. From the perspective of God, the emotionally damaged teen who realizes that self-harm is not a good way to get attention or to deal with frustrations is just as significant as the investment banker who decides to be donate to charity or simply be kinder to his secretary. The path to spiritual growth is universal, even if we access it at different points.
We may however see this as an unrealistic if not cruel expectation for someone born into horrifying abuse or an overwhelmingly profound disability. To this I would say two things:
1) Trust in the hidden life of the spirit.
In extreme cases (take for example the recent Terri Schiavo case), a person may seem ‘trapped’ behind a disability, unable to move voluntarily or communicate in any way. We may even wonder if that person is experiencing any significant form of consciousness.
But even in those hardship cases we must never discount the hidden life of the spirit. We can only pray that those people are being inwardly consoled and nourished by the mercy of God.
2) With God, It’s Never Hopeless
When suffering seems empty and utterly destructive, lacking any possible redemptive value, we must resist the seduction of despair and trust that nothing is outside of God’s redemptive will. Everyday we see tragedy that challenges our faith: What kind of God could allow for that? Why is suffering so overwhelmingly destructive, rather than redemptive?
In these situations, hold to the bigger picture: perhaps in this life a person was unable to grow through adversity, but Christians believe that death is not the end. Thus the afterlife must be viewed in continuity with our purpose here on earth. Consider that the journey continues on the other side of death, so even if spiritual progress seemed limited on earth, our path to growth does not end. Even in those heartbreaking situations, God may be ‘writing straight with crooked lines.’
So now when I hear Dylan’s Gotta Serve Somebody, I can appreciate the wisdom of that ‘primitive’ world view, and I suppose that’s why it’s endured: if there was no truth to it I suppose people wouldn’t be singing about it—not to mention turning their lives around because of it—all these thousands of years later.
Monday, July 16, 2007
PORNOGRAPHY: DAMAGING THE SUPERNATURAL TEMPLATE
While much has been said of the harmful effects of pornography upon the individual, family and society, we do not hear nearly enough about its impact on the spiritual life. On this matter there is no greater commentator than Bishop Paul S. Loverde, author of the pastoral letter, “Bought With a Price: Pornography and the Attack on the Living Temple of God”.
His letter is anchored in the Beatitudes as Jesus promises, “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God (Mt 5:8).” Christians believe that in heaven the veil is lifted and man contemplates God directly, as St Paul writes; “Here we see Him in a mirror dimly, but then face to face” (1 Cor 13:12). Hence, heaven in the Christian tradition has been called the ‘beatific vision’.
But this vision is more than just ‘seeing’. When Jesus says that the pure of heart will ‘see’ God, we have to understand the complexity of ‘sight’. Bishop Loverde describes this in both metaphorical and literal terms; metaphorically he is speaking of the intellectual capacity to see the wisdom of God, but also literally as Christians believe in the resurrection of the body. And on that Last Day, it will be that vision that delivers us: “We know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” (1 Jn 3:2) By gazing upon him we shall receive salvation—it is that vision itself that makes us blessed.
Now we are in a better position to appreciate the gravity of the pornography problem from a soteriological perspective. When our earthly vision is distorted by sin that contaminates our hearts, we distort a faculty crucial to our salvation:
“Perhaps worst of all, however, is the damage that pornography does to man’s “template” for the supernatural. Our natural vision in this world is the model for supernatural vision in the next. Once we have distorted or damaged that template, how will we understand the reality? Our Lord has given us the gift of sight with the intention that we ultimately may see Him. The sinful use of this faculty both warps our understanding of it and – worse still – cripples our ability to realize its fulfillment in heaven. What man should use for receiving the true vision of God and the beauty of His creation, he uses instead to consume false images of others in pornography. How can we understand the supernatural sight God desires for us – i.e. the contemplation of God in the beatific vision – once our natural sight has been damaged and distorted?” (BWP p.4)
Given the stakes, it is time to revive a debate that so many in our society—especially in Canada—consider ‘resolved’, and to join in Bishop Loverde’s prayer that, “we may ever more fully live out our God-given use of human sight.”
------------------------------
“Bought With a Price: Pornography and the Attack on the Living Temple of God” is available online:
http://www.arlingtondiocese.org/offices/communications/boughtprice.html
His letter is anchored in the Beatitudes as Jesus promises, “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God (Mt 5:8).” Christians believe that in heaven the veil is lifted and man contemplates God directly, as St Paul writes; “Here we see Him in a mirror dimly, but then face to face” (1 Cor 13:12). Hence, heaven in the Christian tradition has been called the ‘beatific vision’.
But this vision is more than just ‘seeing’. When Jesus says that the pure of heart will ‘see’ God, we have to understand the complexity of ‘sight’. Bishop Loverde describes this in both metaphorical and literal terms; metaphorically he is speaking of the intellectual capacity to see the wisdom of God, but also literally as Christians believe in the resurrection of the body. And on that Last Day, it will be that vision that delivers us: “We know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” (1 Jn 3:2) By gazing upon him we shall receive salvation—it is that vision itself that makes us blessed.
Now we are in a better position to appreciate the gravity of the pornography problem from a soteriological perspective. When our earthly vision is distorted by sin that contaminates our hearts, we distort a faculty crucial to our salvation:
“Perhaps worst of all, however, is the damage that pornography does to man’s “template” for the supernatural. Our natural vision in this world is the model for supernatural vision in the next. Once we have distorted or damaged that template, how will we understand the reality? Our Lord has given us the gift of sight with the intention that we ultimately may see Him. The sinful use of this faculty both warps our understanding of it and – worse still – cripples our ability to realize its fulfillment in heaven. What man should use for receiving the true vision of God and the beauty of His creation, he uses instead to consume false images of others in pornography. How can we understand the supernatural sight God desires for us – i.e. the contemplation of God in the beatific vision – once our natural sight has been damaged and distorted?” (BWP p.4)
Given the stakes, it is time to revive a debate that so many in our society—especially in Canada—consider ‘resolved’, and to join in Bishop Loverde’s prayer that, “we may ever more fully live out our God-given use of human sight.”
------------------------------
“Bought With a Price: Pornography and the Attack on the Living Temple of God” is available online:
http://www.arlingtondiocese.org/offices/communications/boughtprice.html
ON FAITHLESS LOVE
Yesterday was a beautiful day and I was having a picnic with a couple of old friends—good friends and good people, though not Christians.
After a couple bottles of wine and lots of great stinky cheese, I asked my friend how his family was doing. He spoke of an ongoing feud between an uncle and his mom over a family cottage. Though the cottage was supposed to be equally shared, the uncle was trying to squeeze out his sister. Eventually they had to sell the property because they couldn’t resolve the dispute, which poisoned things between the two families.
But recently, the uncle had joined some kind of therapeutic group, and telephoned his sister to apologize for behaving so badly. My friend was moved by this, and then began passionately speaking of his own recent experience with a serious illness; “When I was in the hospital and I didn’t know if I was going to make it, I looked all around me and saw the people I loved, and thought; Man, it’s not about the money or the success—life is all about the love. Because in the end, that’s the only thing that’s real.”
The other friend and myself both nodded emphatically. His story had personal significance for me because it reminded me of my own conversion to Christianity. What awakened my faith was a realization that went something like this: The one thing I know to be true with every fiber of my being is that only Love can quench our deepest human longing. Love is the answer, and the truth about what it means to be human.
From there it was a short step to realizing that this was not my ‘own’ discovery—but the revelation at the very heart of Christianity; I read the holy books of every religion and discovered that nowhere else was love even remotely identified with God. So if my own experience of truth corresponded to this ancient religious tradition that goes back thousands of years, it was in fact verifying the truth of that tradition.
But the point I would like to make involves the following paradox: if we were to take an opinion poll, I would bet that the vast majority of people surveyed would agree to the following statement: “In the end, love is the only thing that really matters.” This sentiment is echoed ad nauseum in films, TV shows and pop songs to the point it has almost become a cliché: yet this is the same society in which Christianity is rapidly declining. In other words, while the heart of the Christian revelation has been largely accepted as true, we live in a culture that is aggressively rejecting the Christian faith.
How can this be?
This is an extremely complicated question and deserves a much longer treatment, but here I would just like to debunk a popular myth that is often associated with secular humanism: that this is not a Christian revelation at all—it’s just ‘common sense.’
If it were indeed ‘common sense’ it would be universal. I am sure that if you took our poll question to North Korea or to a tribe in Africa you would get much different answers: the most important things in life would probably be honor, success, a prosperous family etc. The reason ‘In the end, love is the only thing that matters’ makes us nod our heads in agreement is because Christianity is so deeply embedded in Western culture.
Let me close with a criticism and a cause for hope. First, it is utterly shocking that given our present climate of consciousness that the Gospel is not taking root. Why is it so difficult for us to take what is accepted as spiritually true in our culture and return it to the Christian tradition?
But it is also hard to imagine a more fertile soil than a culture that has already accepted the spiritual supremacy of love. With this in mind let us not be disheartened, but pray for the courage to share this extraordinary faith.
After a couple bottles of wine and lots of great stinky cheese, I asked my friend how his family was doing. He spoke of an ongoing feud between an uncle and his mom over a family cottage. Though the cottage was supposed to be equally shared, the uncle was trying to squeeze out his sister. Eventually they had to sell the property because they couldn’t resolve the dispute, which poisoned things between the two families.
But recently, the uncle had joined some kind of therapeutic group, and telephoned his sister to apologize for behaving so badly. My friend was moved by this, and then began passionately speaking of his own recent experience with a serious illness; “When I was in the hospital and I didn’t know if I was going to make it, I looked all around me and saw the people I loved, and thought; Man, it’s not about the money or the success—life is all about the love. Because in the end, that’s the only thing that’s real.”
The other friend and myself both nodded emphatically. His story had personal significance for me because it reminded me of my own conversion to Christianity. What awakened my faith was a realization that went something like this: The one thing I know to be true with every fiber of my being is that only Love can quench our deepest human longing. Love is the answer, and the truth about what it means to be human.
From there it was a short step to realizing that this was not my ‘own’ discovery—but the revelation at the very heart of Christianity; I read the holy books of every religion and discovered that nowhere else was love even remotely identified with God. So if my own experience of truth corresponded to this ancient religious tradition that goes back thousands of years, it was in fact verifying the truth of that tradition.
But the point I would like to make involves the following paradox: if we were to take an opinion poll, I would bet that the vast majority of people surveyed would agree to the following statement: “In the end, love is the only thing that really matters.” This sentiment is echoed ad nauseum in films, TV shows and pop songs to the point it has almost become a cliché: yet this is the same society in which Christianity is rapidly declining. In other words, while the heart of the Christian revelation has been largely accepted as true, we live in a culture that is aggressively rejecting the Christian faith.
How can this be?
This is an extremely complicated question and deserves a much longer treatment, but here I would just like to debunk a popular myth that is often associated with secular humanism: that this is not a Christian revelation at all—it’s just ‘common sense.’
If it were indeed ‘common sense’ it would be universal. I am sure that if you took our poll question to North Korea or to a tribe in Africa you would get much different answers: the most important things in life would probably be honor, success, a prosperous family etc. The reason ‘In the end, love is the only thing that matters’ makes us nod our heads in agreement is because Christianity is so deeply embedded in Western culture.
Let me close with a criticism and a cause for hope. First, it is utterly shocking that given our present climate of consciousness that the Gospel is not taking root. Why is it so difficult for us to take what is accepted as spiritually true in our culture and return it to the Christian tradition?
But it is also hard to imagine a more fertile soil than a culture that has already accepted the spiritual supremacy of love. With this in mind let us not be disheartened, but pray for the courage to share this extraordinary faith.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
SOME REFLECTIONS ON PRAYER
Recently I’ve had some insights into my own prayer life that others may also find helpful.
To prepare, I begin by just letting my mind wander freely for the first 5mins or so. As my mind tends to naturally race, doing this lets me focus better once prayer begins.
1) PRAY FOR THE DESIRE TO PRAY
God knows we are busy, distracted, and have a million things on our mind other than prayer. We need to be honest about that. Bringing forth this concern is liberating; awareness of our limitations allows us to move forward with integrity rather than forcing it. We then can relax in front of God and be ourselves, and this ultimately makes prayer deeper and more sustainable.
2) PRAY FOR THE ACCEPTANCE GOD’S LOVE
We preach a God of love, yet so often punish ourselves relentlessly when we stray from Him. If we’re not careful, prayer can turn into an echo chamber of self-criticism. How difficult it is to accept that we are still worthy of love? How difficult is it to accept forgiveness?
But without this acceptance there is no hope for us. Beating ourselves up will not bring us closer to God; this will only come by opening our hearts to His mercy.
Karl Rahner had this wonderful little prayer: “Lord, give me the strength and courage to be worthy of being called a Christian.” We often think of strength and courage as necessary for mighty deeds, but they are also required to simply allow ourselves to be loved.
Pray that we may truly accept the audacious reality at the heart of our faith: a God of love.
3) PRAY THAT WE MIGHT REFLECT THAT LOVE BACK TO THE WORLD
In conclusion, praying that we may reflect the fruits of prayer back to the world. A friend once said to me that Christianity was not about shutting ourselves away huddled in front of a candle; that it was about being out in the world to love and serve others. I replied that I huddle in front of a candle in prayer SO THAT I might love and serve others.
Etty Hillesum wrote; “Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.” May that be the fruit of prayer; to gather ourselves in the presence of God so we might bring that peace into this troubled world.
To prepare, I begin by just letting my mind wander freely for the first 5mins or so. As my mind tends to naturally race, doing this lets me focus better once prayer begins.
1) PRAY FOR THE DESIRE TO PRAY
God knows we are busy, distracted, and have a million things on our mind other than prayer. We need to be honest about that. Bringing forth this concern is liberating; awareness of our limitations allows us to move forward with integrity rather than forcing it. We then can relax in front of God and be ourselves, and this ultimately makes prayer deeper and more sustainable.
2) PRAY FOR THE ACCEPTANCE GOD’S LOVE
We preach a God of love, yet so often punish ourselves relentlessly when we stray from Him. If we’re not careful, prayer can turn into an echo chamber of self-criticism. How difficult it is to accept that we are still worthy of love? How difficult is it to accept forgiveness?
But without this acceptance there is no hope for us. Beating ourselves up will not bring us closer to God; this will only come by opening our hearts to His mercy.
Karl Rahner had this wonderful little prayer: “Lord, give me the strength and courage to be worthy of being called a Christian.” We often think of strength and courage as necessary for mighty deeds, but they are also required to simply allow ourselves to be loved.
Pray that we may truly accept the audacious reality at the heart of our faith: a God of love.
3) PRAY THAT WE MIGHT REFLECT THAT LOVE BACK TO THE WORLD
In conclusion, praying that we may reflect the fruits of prayer back to the world. A friend once said to me that Christianity was not about shutting ourselves away huddled in front of a candle; that it was about being out in the world to love and serve others. I replied that I huddle in front of a candle in prayer SO THAT I might love and serve others.
Etty Hillesum wrote; “Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.” May that be the fruit of prayer; to gather ourselves in the presence of God so we might bring that peace into this troubled world.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Welcome Morning
There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.
-ANNE SEXTON
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.
-ANNE SEXTON
Thursday, June 21, 2007
My Call to L’Arche
People sometimes ask me how I came to be an Assistant at L’Arche, a Christian community centered on the lives of people with disabilities (I served there from Dec 2005 - Feb 2007). This is the story I tell them:
A couple of years ago my friend Ashley was an Assistant at L’Arche, and one day she invited me to the house for supper. Although I had heard of L’Arche, I had never visited before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was a little bit nervous sitting around that great big table with so many new people; but because I was sitting next to a warm and wonderful Core Member named Becky, I started to feel right at home (at L’Arche, Core Members are people with special needs; they are called Core Members because they are at the very core of the community).
I remember it was about half way through supper when I began to talk more with Becky. I asked her a few questions about herself and how long had she lived at L’Arche. And after getting to know her a bit, I asked the big question: “Becky, what do you like about L’Arche?” That’s when Becky, who has an intellectual disability and was legally blind, turned to my friend Ashley, sitting across from us, and said: “The people. I love the people here, and I love my friend Ashley!”
It is hard for me to capture Ashley’s reaction, but I will try. The best I can say it is that it was like Becky shot an arrow of love directly into Ashley’s heart. Ashley’s face became flooded with color and emotion, and her eyes became wet with joy.
Seeing this made me understand what a special place L’Arche was. I realized then the true meaning of my favorite Taize song: Ubi caritas et amour, ubi caritas Deus ubi es. [Where there is charity and love, God is truly there.] And I will always be grateful for Becky, as it was through her love for my friend Ashley that she showed me that God was truly alive in this humble little community. It also brought the words of Deitrich Bonhoffer to life for me: “The one who has found Jesus on the cross knows how wondrously God hides in this world and how he is just there, closest, where we expect him to be furthest.”
That’s why a couple of years later when I’d finished my theological studies, I thought of how special that dinner was, which helped me make up my mind to apply to L’Arche. Looking back, I truly believe that it is ultimately God who calls us to places like L’Arche. But now I also believe that God uses special people like Becky to deliver the message.
A couple of years ago my friend Ashley was an Assistant at L’Arche, and one day she invited me to the house for supper. Although I had heard of L’Arche, I had never visited before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was a little bit nervous sitting around that great big table with so many new people; but because I was sitting next to a warm and wonderful Core Member named Becky, I started to feel right at home (at L’Arche, Core Members are people with special needs; they are called Core Members because they are at the very core of the community).
I remember it was about half way through supper when I began to talk more with Becky. I asked her a few questions about herself and how long had she lived at L’Arche. And after getting to know her a bit, I asked the big question: “Becky, what do you like about L’Arche?” That’s when Becky, who has an intellectual disability and was legally blind, turned to my friend Ashley, sitting across from us, and said: “The people. I love the people here, and I love my friend Ashley!”
It is hard for me to capture Ashley’s reaction, but I will try. The best I can say it is that it was like Becky shot an arrow of love directly into Ashley’s heart. Ashley’s face became flooded with color and emotion, and her eyes became wet with joy.
Seeing this made me understand what a special place L’Arche was. I realized then the true meaning of my favorite Taize song: Ubi caritas et amour, ubi caritas Deus ubi es. [Where there is charity and love, God is truly there.] And I will always be grateful for Becky, as it was through her love for my friend Ashley that she showed me that God was truly alive in this humble little community. It also brought the words of Deitrich Bonhoffer to life for me: “The one who has found Jesus on the cross knows how wondrously God hides in this world and how he is just there, closest, where we expect him to be furthest.”
That’s why a couple of years later when I’d finished my theological studies, I thought of how special that dinner was, which helped me make up my mind to apply to L’Arche. Looking back, I truly believe that it is ultimately God who calls us to places like L’Arche. But now I also believe that God uses special people like Becky to deliver the message.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Etty Hillesum quotes
“Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths, or the turning inwards in prayer for five short minutes.”
“Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.”
“Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world.”
When Death Comes
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
-by Mary Oliver
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
-by Mary Oliver
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
'THE SECRET' NOT WORTH SHARING
So what is this book 'The Secret' that everybody's reading? Its the latest new-age/self-help book that promises, "regardless of who who you are or where you are, The Secret can give you whatever you want" just by following the ancient "Law of Attraction." The "Law of Attraction" is simply (and I mean simply), the concept that if you want positive things to happen, you must think positive thoughts. And conversely, negative thoughts create a negative reality. That's The Secret.
So why has mankind sunk to such depths -- war, famine, disease? Why do we suffer? According to the authors, "The problem is people are thinking about what they don't want. It is the 'dont want' epidemic. But this is the generation that will change history because we have the knowledge that will free us of this epidemic." Positive thought is the ancient hidden secret that can transform our health, our relationships, and our world. Want to get rich? Stop fussing with all that hard work and budgeting and start "visualizing cheques in the mail." And yes, these are actual quotes from the book.
Harmless, new-age mumbo jumbo, right?
Not to throw any "negative thoughts" your way, but there is a dark side that deservers serious attention - especially considering 'The Secret' has spent the last 12 weeks on the New York Times bestsellers list and currently occupies the #1 position for books on advice.
From a Christian perspective, the problem begins with the premise that "the Universe emerges from thought. We are creators of our own destiny, and also the universe." If mankind is at the center of our spiritual reality, we must reject the Judeo Christian perspective that puts God first. When The Law of Attraction trumps the Law of Moses, everything is permitted: "The knowledge of The Secret is being given to you, and what you do with it is entirely in your hands. Whatever you choose for you is right [...] There is no blackboard on the sky in which God has written your purpose. Your purpose is what you say it is. Your mission is what you give yourself. Your life will be what you create it as and no one will stand in judgment of it, now or ever."
No judgment to fear. Do whatever you want. Get whatever you want. You decide what is good - The Secret to happiness is yours...
Would you like an apple with that?
So why has mankind sunk to such depths -- war, famine, disease? Why do we suffer? According to the authors, "The problem is people are thinking about what they don't want. It is the 'dont want' epidemic. But this is the generation that will change history because we have the knowledge that will free us of this epidemic." Positive thought is the ancient hidden secret that can transform our health, our relationships, and our world. Want to get rich? Stop fussing with all that hard work and budgeting and start "visualizing cheques in the mail." And yes, these are actual quotes from the book.
Harmless, new-age mumbo jumbo, right?
Not to throw any "negative thoughts" your way, but there is a dark side that deservers serious attention - especially considering 'The Secret' has spent the last 12 weeks on the New York Times bestsellers list and currently occupies the #1 position for books on advice.
From a Christian perspective, the problem begins with the premise that "the Universe emerges from thought. We are creators of our own destiny, and also the universe." If mankind is at the center of our spiritual reality, we must reject the Judeo Christian perspective that puts God first. When The Law of Attraction trumps the Law of Moses, everything is permitted: "The knowledge of The Secret is being given to you, and what you do with it is entirely in your hands. Whatever you choose for you is right [...] There is no blackboard on the sky in which God has written your purpose. Your purpose is what you say it is. Your mission is what you give yourself. Your life will be what you create it as and no one will stand in judgment of it, now or ever."
No judgment to fear. Do whatever you want. Get whatever you want. You decide what is good - The Secret to happiness is yours...
Would you like an apple with that?
‘Screening’ out Downs Syndrome: The New Eugenics
The Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologists of Canada (SOGC) is recommending the “screening” of all pregnant women for Downs syndrome, with the specific intention of giving them the option to abort. Previously screening was reserved for women over 35, whose chances of bearing a baby with Downs increases significantly.
Already 90% of babies with Downs are aborted, according to the New York Times. What might that number spike to with the new screening guidelines—98%, 100%? How is this nothing less than a ‘silent eugenics’—one not of totalitarian ideology, but of consumer choice?
Dr. Andre Lalonde, executive vice president of SOGC told The National Post, “Yes, it’s going to lead to more termination, but it’s going to be fair to these women who are 24 and say, ‘How come I have to raise a baby with Downs whereas my cousin who is 35 does not have to.”
Lalonde’s imaginary 24yr old is precisely the voice of what Newsweek columnist George F Will (whose own son has Downs) calls ‘entitlement mentality’: “Nothing—nothing—in the professional qualifications of obstetricians and gynecologists gives them the standing to adopt policies that predictably will have, and deem intended to have, the effect of increasing abortions in the service of an especially repulsive manifestation of today’s entitlement mentality—every parent’s ‘right’ to a perfect baby.”
This is what happens when a culture loses sight of the profound fact that having a child is not a ‘right’ bestowed upon us by biotechnology, but a gift from the Creator.
And what, as Margaret Somerville warns, will this ‘entitlement mentality’ do to the traditional values of parenting? “Parental love becomes conditional on the child having certain characteristics, and not having others. This is a fundamental change in the shared morality and values on which society has traditionally rested.”
But that is not the only cataclysmic shift unfolding. The other involves the medical profession itself: it is insidiously ironic that a head of a major medical body—which is supposed to be devoted to saving and healing life—has become an advocate for the extermination of life.
Sadly, none of this will change until we see beyond our limited notions of ‘value.’ Thomas Waugh of the Los Angeles Times recently characterized Downs syndrome by “congenital heart defects and mental retardation.” After spending the last year living at Larche, sharing my life with people with Downs, I have to disagree. It is not the mental retardation and heart conditions that characterize them—it is their indomitable spirit and tenderness of heart. They have a gift we could all benefit from, especially those at the SOGC.
Already 90% of babies with Downs are aborted, according to the New York Times. What might that number spike to with the new screening guidelines—98%, 100%? How is this nothing less than a ‘silent eugenics’—one not of totalitarian ideology, but of consumer choice?
Dr. Andre Lalonde, executive vice president of SOGC told The National Post, “Yes, it’s going to lead to more termination, but it’s going to be fair to these women who are 24 and say, ‘How come I have to raise a baby with Downs whereas my cousin who is 35 does not have to.”
Lalonde’s imaginary 24yr old is precisely the voice of what Newsweek columnist George F Will (whose own son has Downs) calls ‘entitlement mentality’: “Nothing—nothing—in the professional qualifications of obstetricians and gynecologists gives them the standing to adopt policies that predictably will have, and deem intended to have, the effect of increasing abortions in the service of an especially repulsive manifestation of today’s entitlement mentality—every parent’s ‘right’ to a perfect baby.”
This is what happens when a culture loses sight of the profound fact that having a child is not a ‘right’ bestowed upon us by biotechnology, but a gift from the Creator.
And what, as Margaret Somerville warns, will this ‘entitlement mentality’ do to the traditional values of parenting? “Parental love becomes conditional on the child having certain characteristics, and not having others. This is a fundamental change in the shared morality and values on which society has traditionally rested.”
But that is not the only cataclysmic shift unfolding. The other involves the medical profession itself: it is insidiously ironic that a head of a major medical body—which is supposed to be devoted to saving and healing life—has become an advocate for the extermination of life.
Sadly, none of this will change until we see beyond our limited notions of ‘value.’ Thomas Waugh of the Los Angeles Times recently characterized Downs syndrome by “congenital heart defects and mental retardation.” After spending the last year living at Larche, sharing my life with people with Downs, I have to disagree. It is not the mental retardation and heart conditions that characterize them—it is their indomitable spirit and tenderness of heart. They have a gift we could all benefit from, especially those at the SOGC.
BENEDICT XVI AND THE ‘SPIRITUAL COLLAPSE OF THE WEST’
In a press conference the morning after the conclave, Cardinal Francis George of Chicago aptly remarked, “In 1978 when John Paul II was elected the primary challenge to the Catholic Church came from the east in the form of Soviet Communism. Today however the most difficult challenge comes from the west. Benedict XVI is a man who comes from the west and who understands the culture and the history of the west.” The challenge to which Cardinal Francis George refers is sometimes called relativism, the fashionably postmodern view that truth is itself a ‘construct’ and the dangerous legacy of the meta-narratives of the enlightenment, narratives founded upon the audacious Judeo-Christian notion that human history is not only profoundly meaningful, but is also going somewhere. Rather than holding onto such claims, postmodern orthodoxy rejects the entire spiritual and intellectual heritage of the west, replacing it with the concept that human identity, experience and culture are simply constructs entirely dependent upon our subjective, linguistic, cultural and historical horizons. In short, the only truth is that Truth (capital T) is untenable: a good postmodernist will only go so far as to politely acknowledge ‘competing truth claims.’ Not exactly fertile soil for the gospel.
Here in Canada we have seen first-hand the near collapse of Catholicism in Quebec, while English speaking Canada appears to be following the footsteps of Europe towards what has been called the ‘spiritual collapse of the west.’ And this problem is compounded by the dynamics of global power and communications; the west now stands poised to disseminate this mentality to the rest of the world.
This summer I had the good fortune of reading ‘God and the World’ (Ignatius Press 2002), Pope Benedict XVI’s book length interview with Peter Seewald, and was heartened to discover that we have a Pope that truly appreciates the gravity of this problem (I would not be surprised if grappling with this challenge will come to one day define his pontificate). Even the name ‘Benedict’ refers to the great St Benedict, the father of western monasticism who built the foundations of a new civilization within a crumbling Roman Empire.
But in order to grasp the problem, a nuance is in order. This is not a descent into a pragmatic atheism that characterized the political ideologies of the 20th century. Benedict sees this not as a ‘religious crisis’ but clearly as a ‘God-crisis’: “The formula today is ‘no to God, yes to religion.’ People want to have some kind of religion, esoteric or whatever it may be. But a personal God, who speaks to me, who know s me personally, who has said something quite specific and who has met me with a specific demand, and who will also judge me—people don’t want him. What we see is religion being separated from God.” Reading this called to mind the countless times in conversation I have heard people characterize themselves with the phrase; “I’m not ‘religious’, but I consider myself spiritual.” For Benedict, this is the result of western philosophical relativism having been ‘baptized’ by eastern religious agnosticism.
What’s the fuss, you ask? The divorce between religion and spirituality has major spiritual and social consequences. The dynamic of spiritual healing involves overcoming our pride and self-deception by submitting to God, which is not what happens when we tailor an image of God to suit our specifications, as Benedict observes, “they have wandered away from God and now only turn to refracted images in which they see reflected only themselves.” We are made in God’s image, not vice-versa. If ideologically driven atheism was the heresy of the 20th century, religion-without-God may in fact be the reigning heresy of our time.
Socially, the consequence of this erosion is that we live in a time where everything appears to be up for grabs, from the definition of marriage to the very status of human life. When the very ground of truth erodes the given-ness of things is called into question, which is why it seems fairly obvious that the reason gay marriage has become such a burning issue is because it hinges upon this matter, that is, Is our social reality to be oriented towards a horizon beyond our own? Is there a divine order, revealed in the Judeo-Christian tradition, to which the human order must be attuned?
Ironically, a major obstacle towards realizing that there is a deeper truth is often good intentions. Benedict acknowledges that people who resist the notion of truth in an absolute sense are often motivated by the suspicion that such a position leads to violence, whereas relativism is thought to produce a tolerance and peace. However having lived through the Nazi rule of Germany, Benedict has seen first-hand the danger of anchoring truth in anything less than God alone. Despite the claims that relativism is superior because it produces a type of peace, the truth of the Christian faith actually protects human freedom and dignity by elevating it beyond the whims of popular opinion and the authority of the state. The ultimate foundation of democracy and human rights is guaranteed—not compromised—by the truth of our loving creator.
But even if pluralism does create a type of peace, this is only a negative virtue. It is not enough to adopt a philosophical system because fails to provide us with something to kill for: it must give us something to live for. That something is that Christ is the incarnate meaning of history and the self-manifestation of truth itself. Christians in this post-Christian era must walk a fine line between proclaiming the truth of our faith, while humbly realizing that the truth has too often been co-opted for evil. Perhaps a humble but firm witness to the truth will show others that the truth of our faith is life-giving and redemptive. With plenty of grace, this may be enough for truth with a capital ‘T’ to penetrate the cynical (but well-intentioned) postmodern heart.
Here in Canada we have seen first-hand the near collapse of Catholicism in Quebec, while English speaking Canada appears to be following the footsteps of Europe towards what has been called the ‘spiritual collapse of the west.’ And this problem is compounded by the dynamics of global power and communications; the west now stands poised to disseminate this mentality to the rest of the world.
This summer I had the good fortune of reading ‘God and the World’ (Ignatius Press 2002), Pope Benedict XVI’s book length interview with Peter Seewald, and was heartened to discover that we have a Pope that truly appreciates the gravity of this problem (I would not be surprised if grappling with this challenge will come to one day define his pontificate). Even the name ‘Benedict’ refers to the great St Benedict, the father of western monasticism who built the foundations of a new civilization within a crumbling Roman Empire.
But in order to grasp the problem, a nuance is in order. This is not a descent into a pragmatic atheism that characterized the political ideologies of the 20th century. Benedict sees this not as a ‘religious crisis’ but clearly as a ‘God-crisis’: “The formula today is ‘no to God, yes to religion.’ People want to have some kind of religion, esoteric or whatever it may be. But a personal God, who speaks to me, who know s me personally, who has said something quite specific and who has met me with a specific demand, and who will also judge me—people don’t want him. What we see is religion being separated from God.” Reading this called to mind the countless times in conversation I have heard people characterize themselves with the phrase; “I’m not ‘religious’, but I consider myself spiritual.” For Benedict, this is the result of western philosophical relativism having been ‘baptized’ by eastern religious agnosticism.
What’s the fuss, you ask? The divorce between religion and spirituality has major spiritual and social consequences. The dynamic of spiritual healing involves overcoming our pride and self-deception by submitting to God, which is not what happens when we tailor an image of God to suit our specifications, as Benedict observes, “they have wandered away from God and now only turn to refracted images in which they see reflected only themselves.” We are made in God’s image, not vice-versa. If ideologically driven atheism was the heresy of the 20th century, religion-without-God may in fact be the reigning heresy of our time.
Socially, the consequence of this erosion is that we live in a time where everything appears to be up for grabs, from the definition of marriage to the very status of human life. When the very ground of truth erodes the given-ness of things is called into question, which is why it seems fairly obvious that the reason gay marriage has become such a burning issue is because it hinges upon this matter, that is, Is our social reality to be oriented towards a horizon beyond our own? Is there a divine order, revealed in the Judeo-Christian tradition, to which the human order must be attuned?
Ironically, a major obstacle towards realizing that there is a deeper truth is often good intentions. Benedict acknowledges that people who resist the notion of truth in an absolute sense are often motivated by the suspicion that such a position leads to violence, whereas relativism is thought to produce a tolerance and peace. However having lived through the Nazi rule of Germany, Benedict has seen first-hand the danger of anchoring truth in anything less than God alone. Despite the claims that relativism is superior because it produces a type of peace, the truth of the Christian faith actually protects human freedom and dignity by elevating it beyond the whims of popular opinion and the authority of the state. The ultimate foundation of democracy and human rights is guaranteed—not compromised—by the truth of our loving creator.
But even if pluralism does create a type of peace, this is only a negative virtue. It is not enough to adopt a philosophical system because fails to provide us with something to kill for: it must give us something to live for. That something is that Christ is the incarnate meaning of history and the self-manifestation of truth itself. Christians in this post-Christian era must walk a fine line between proclaiming the truth of our faith, while humbly realizing that the truth has too often been co-opted for evil. Perhaps a humble but firm witness to the truth will show others that the truth of our faith is life-giving and redemptive. With plenty of grace, this may be enough for truth with a capital ‘T’ to penetrate the cynical (but well-intentioned) postmodern heart.
VT Massacre: Evil as Existential Sickness
The Virginia Tech Massacre: Evil as Existential Sickness
by Stephen Morris M.Div
I. ON THE ESSENCE OF EVIL
The more incomprehensible the killing, the closer it is to the essence of evil.
Manslaughter for instance is the most benign type of killing because we understand it as accidental, "I didn't mean to kill him—he was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road and I couldn't avoid him…" We think OK, tragic but definitely not evil.
And if killing occurs in self-defense we might say to ourselves, "She didn't want to kill him, but the rapist had a knife at her throat." This we can understand. Evil? Not likely.
In crimes of passion we at least comprehend to some degree, "Well I understand how things got out of hand when he caught his wife in bed with another man…" But though we may understand, we are moving closer to pure evil because here murder could have clearly been avoided.
Even suicide bombers in crowded Baghdad markets are understood through the murky prism of religious fundamentalism (though what is incomprehensible about this evil is how religion could be twisted into justifying the mass murder of innocents).
But I want to suggest that the Virginia Tech killings shook us so deeply because they touch the very core of evil, utterly devoid of a framework for comprehension. Seung-Hui Cho had no motive. He didn't know his victims. He had no politics or ideology. Not even a 'religion.' The motive stated in the 'Multimedia Manifesto' is vapid, a red herring. A German or Engineering classroom is hardly a bastion of debauchery, wealth or 'deceitful charlatanism'. There isn't the feeblest thread of logic connecting the victims to the so-called crime.
There's just no explanation.
And yet the Virginia Tech massacre was obviously excruciatingly methodical. This wasn't a spontaneous 'boiling over' of homicidal impulses.
So why did this massacre touch on the core of evil?
Because in its essence, evil stands in stark opposition to God's loving, creative activity. Incomprehension is its hallmark because evil defies logic; evil is inherently illogical because it makes no sense to destroy what is good, and creation is good. But ironically, that is precisely what gives evil its logic, its cohesion. And that is the inner connection between all such unspeakable acts.
The VT massacre was perfectly evil because it was a perfectly orchestrated destruction of innocents. It was a raw affront to the value and goodness of creation, and for no other purpose.
II. NON-BEING AND RESENTMENT
It is tempting to argue that not evil, but mental illness is the key to unlocking the Virginia Tech massacre. Mental illness of course problematizes culpability and therefore the notion of evil; Yet of the many, many insane people in this world, why are so few drawn to unspeakable acts of violence? Is that just the nature of insanity?
Allow me to suggest that we temper this discussion with a closer look at the facts, because I believe we can discern the logic of the illogical at work, a demonic logic at best.
Let's start with a profile of the killer, Seung-Hui Cho. Relatives say that his behavior in early life was marked by non-responsiveness; they thought he might even be autistic (a diagnosis which received no medical validation). He was extremely quiet, did not respond to greetings and declined affection. When he fought with his older sister, relatives were shocked by the fury of his violence. Cho was also said to have an unusual voice, which caused him to shy away from speaking.
Not surprisingly, the overall developmental arc of Seung-Hui Cho is one of deepening withdrawal. The Washington Post described him as, “angry, menacing, disturbed and so depressed that he seemed near tears. He often spoke in a whisper, if at all, refused to open up to teachers and classmates, and kept himself locked behind a facade of a hat, sunglasses and silence." On the first day of his British Literature class he identified himself as "?" on the sign-up sheet. He became known as "The Question Mark Kid" (he would also use the “?” for his name on his Facebook account). Cho's roommate told reporters: "I didn't know how to pronounce his name until I heard it on TV because he never told us his name."
When Prof Lucinda Roy noticed that other students were failing to attend her class because they were afraid of Cho, she made a bold decision to pull him out and give him a private course. She spent hours with him alone, trying to coax him out of his shell by working on poems together. One of her insights about his inner state was astonishing; ``I tried to keep him focused on things that were outside the self a little bit because he seemed to be running inside circles in a maze when he was talking about himself.'' Prof Roy also stated: “I really felt very strongly that he was suicidal, that he was so depressed that he had a negativity about him, like it was like talking to a hole sometimes, that the person wasn't really there.”
Emerging is a portrait of a young man at the threshold of non-being. A question mark lost within an internal labyrinth.
But let's be careful to qualify this state. We are not talking about the enlightened non-being we find in Buddhism, a withdrawal from the realm of ego and desire into pure bliss. This is the polar opposite; Cho's non-being was tortured, fueled by resentment towards life and towards being itself.
This is what gave Cho's state of non-being its hateful character. In class he started taking pictures of female students under their desks, and read very violent writings to the group, prompting some students to stay away from the classroom. Prof Nikki Giovanni remarked; ``I know that there's a tendency to think that everybody can get counseling or can have a bowl of tomato soup and everything is going to be all right, but I think that evil exists, and I think that he was a mean person.''
Garrett Evans confirms Giovanni's insight. Evans was a student wounded in the classroom where the greatest loss of life took place, and told CNN: "He walked to the door real fast, didn't say anything. All he did was bang, bang, shot a girl here, shot a girl there. An evil spirit was going through that boy, that shooter. I know it."
As Cho's non-being was driven not by choice but by resentment, it ultimately did not accept its own status. It refused to go quietly into that night, literally raging against being itself with unmitigated violence, which is why he addresses his 'multimedia manifesto' to an ambiguous YOU: "YOU had a million chances and ways to have avoided today, but you decided to spill my blood. YOU forced me into a corner and only gave me one option. The decision was YOURS. Now YOU have blood on your hands that will never wash off […] YOU have vandalized by heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience…"
'You' is the undifferentiated other, no one and everyone. In other words, being itself. From the perspective of non-being, being is the archenemy because its very existence affirms its non-being. And sadly, reaching out to someone in this condition can backfire; Lucinda Roy's private course may have only fed Cho's resentment by affirming his status as someone beyond the realm.
III REBIRTH THOUGH VIOLENCE
Up to now we have focused on the destructive dimensions of the massacre, but now let us turn to the superficially 'creative' element. Allow me to suggest that Cho's motive was not only to
wage war on being, but to enter the realm of being in the most insidious way.
We cannot underestimate the significance of the of his 'Multimedia Manifesto'--so intrinsic to this homicidal act that Cho literally stops killing in order to post his parcel before resuming the murders. This parcel contained 27 QuickTIme video files of him reading text to the camera, 43 photos of him brandishing weapons in menacing poses, and thousands of words of text, much of which has not been published by NBC.
This is vital to understanding the events of that day because if Cho is suffering from the existential sickness of non-being, the Multimedia Manifesto functions as a deranged antidote to his problem. It is in this package that Cho attempts to trade his old identity of isolated loner for a new one. Overnight this voiceless misfit has gained the world's attention--the Question Mark Kid is now a household name.
And with the world watching Cho gives the performance of a lifetime, nailing the role of persecuted martyr who was tragically forced into becoming the exterminating angel - a part he claims he had to play with the greatest reluctance.
But as Dr. Michael Wellner remarked (Wellner reviewed the original materials Cho mailed to NBC), "These videos do not help us understand him. They distort him. He was meek. He was quiet. This is a PR tape of him trying to turn himself into a Quentin Tarantino character." Cho's attempted rebirth was of course a lie, a slick marketing campaign. But it was what it was; a desperate and pathetic attempt at being from the ultimate state of non-being—from beyond the grave.
IV JESUS IN REVERSE
One of the most disturbing aspects of the Manifesto was the degree to which Cho identifies with Jesus; “…You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people. […] Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated and be impaled upon on a cross? And left to bleed to death for your amusement?”
Just as evil is a mockery of good (i.e. the Black Mass as a parody of the Mass), Cho turns the story of Jesus inside-out. The basic movement of Jesus' death and resurrection is the story of
one who surrenders himself in self-giving love and is raised to eternal life by God the Father. Cho's story is of one who kills in hatred, only to be raised from death as a ghostly image flickering across TV screens the world over.
And instead of inspiring disciples to spread the message of love, Cho believes his act will ''inspire generations of weak and defenseless people'. We can only surmise what he means my this, but it is not hard to imagine copycat killers taking up the call to arms.
V. GOOD IN CONTEMPLATING EVIL?
Unfortunately understanding evil provides little comfort, nor does it explain why God allows its existence. So we may be asking, what benefit can we possibly draw from these insights into the sad, tormented life of Seung-Hui Cho?
Perhaps only that Cho is an exemplary counter-model to what Jesus promises when he says; “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (Jn 10:10) If this abundance is the fruit of love, mutuality and forgiveness, in Cho we have seen how evil can deprive us of this as hatred and resentment took him into the realm of non-being, culminating in his act of radical destruction.
And finally, if we truly contemplate our instinctive repulsion to evil—how our sensibilities recoil in horror at its senselessness—it should affirm the profound truth that life is utterly precious and good. And though that revelation may arrive shrouded in darkness, we might still be surprised to find ourselves trembling before God’s mysterious presence.
by Stephen Morris M.Div
I. ON THE ESSENCE OF EVIL
The more incomprehensible the killing, the closer it is to the essence of evil.
Manslaughter for instance is the most benign type of killing because we understand it as accidental, "I didn't mean to kill him—he was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road and I couldn't avoid him…" We think OK, tragic but definitely not evil.
And if killing occurs in self-defense we might say to ourselves, "She didn't want to kill him, but the rapist had a knife at her throat." This we can understand. Evil? Not likely.
In crimes of passion we at least comprehend to some degree, "Well I understand how things got out of hand when he caught his wife in bed with another man…" But though we may understand, we are moving closer to pure evil because here murder could have clearly been avoided.
Even suicide bombers in crowded Baghdad markets are understood through the murky prism of religious fundamentalism (though what is incomprehensible about this evil is how religion could be twisted into justifying the mass murder of innocents).
But I want to suggest that the Virginia Tech killings shook us so deeply because they touch the very core of evil, utterly devoid of a framework for comprehension. Seung-Hui Cho had no motive. He didn't know his victims. He had no politics or ideology. Not even a 'religion.' The motive stated in the 'Multimedia Manifesto' is vapid, a red herring. A German or Engineering classroom is hardly a bastion of debauchery, wealth or 'deceitful charlatanism'. There isn't the feeblest thread of logic connecting the victims to the so-called crime.
There's just no explanation.
And yet the Virginia Tech massacre was obviously excruciatingly methodical. This wasn't a spontaneous 'boiling over' of homicidal impulses.
So why did this massacre touch on the core of evil?
Because in its essence, evil stands in stark opposition to God's loving, creative activity. Incomprehension is its hallmark because evil defies logic; evil is inherently illogical because it makes no sense to destroy what is good, and creation is good. But ironically, that is precisely what gives evil its logic, its cohesion. And that is the inner connection between all such unspeakable acts.
The VT massacre was perfectly evil because it was a perfectly orchestrated destruction of innocents. It was a raw affront to the value and goodness of creation, and for no other purpose.
II. NON-BEING AND RESENTMENT
It is tempting to argue that not evil, but mental illness is the key to unlocking the Virginia Tech massacre. Mental illness of course problematizes culpability and therefore the notion of evil; Yet of the many, many insane people in this world, why are so few drawn to unspeakable acts of violence? Is that just the nature of insanity?
Allow me to suggest that we temper this discussion with a closer look at the facts, because I believe we can discern the logic of the illogical at work, a demonic logic at best.
Let's start with a profile of the killer, Seung-Hui Cho. Relatives say that his behavior in early life was marked by non-responsiveness; they thought he might even be autistic (a diagnosis which received no medical validation). He was extremely quiet, did not respond to greetings and declined affection. When he fought with his older sister, relatives were shocked by the fury of his violence. Cho was also said to have an unusual voice, which caused him to shy away from speaking.
Not surprisingly, the overall developmental arc of Seung-Hui Cho is one of deepening withdrawal. The Washington Post described him as, “angry, menacing, disturbed and so depressed that he seemed near tears. He often spoke in a whisper, if at all, refused to open up to teachers and classmates, and kept himself locked behind a facade of a hat, sunglasses and silence." On the first day of his British Literature class he identified himself as "?" on the sign-up sheet. He became known as "The Question Mark Kid" (he would also use the “?” for his name on his Facebook account). Cho's roommate told reporters: "I didn't know how to pronounce his name until I heard it on TV because he never told us his name."
When Prof Lucinda Roy noticed that other students were failing to attend her class because they were afraid of Cho, she made a bold decision to pull him out and give him a private course. She spent hours with him alone, trying to coax him out of his shell by working on poems together. One of her insights about his inner state was astonishing; ``I tried to keep him focused on things that were outside the self a little bit because he seemed to be running inside circles in a maze when he was talking about himself.'' Prof Roy also stated: “I really felt very strongly that he was suicidal, that he was so depressed that he had a negativity about him, like it was like talking to a hole sometimes, that the person wasn't really there.”
Emerging is a portrait of a young man at the threshold of non-being. A question mark lost within an internal labyrinth.
But let's be careful to qualify this state. We are not talking about the enlightened non-being we find in Buddhism, a withdrawal from the realm of ego and desire into pure bliss. This is the polar opposite; Cho's non-being was tortured, fueled by resentment towards life and towards being itself.
This is what gave Cho's state of non-being its hateful character. In class he started taking pictures of female students under their desks, and read very violent writings to the group, prompting some students to stay away from the classroom. Prof Nikki Giovanni remarked; ``I know that there's a tendency to think that everybody can get counseling or can have a bowl of tomato soup and everything is going to be all right, but I think that evil exists, and I think that he was a mean person.''
Garrett Evans confirms Giovanni's insight. Evans was a student wounded in the classroom where the greatest loss of life took place, and told CNN: "He walked to the door real fast, didn't say anything. All he did was bang, bang, shot a girl here, shot a girl there. An evil spirit was going through that boy, that shooter. I know it."
As Cho's non-being was driven not by choice but by resentment, it ultimately did not accept its own status. It refused to go quietly into that night, literally raging against being itself with unmitigated violence, which is why he addresses his 'multimedia manifesto' to an ambiguous YOU: "YOU had a million chances and ways to have avoided today, but you decided to spill my blood. YOU forced me into a corner and only gave me one option. The decision was YOURS. Now YOU have blood on your hands that will never wash off […] YOU have vandalized by heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience…"
'You' is the undifferentiated other, no one and everyone. In other words, being itself. From the perspective of non-being, being is the archenemy because its very existence affirms its non-being. And sadly, reaching out to someone in this condition can backfire; Lucinda Roy's private course may have only fed Cho's resentment by affirming his status as someone beyond the realm.
III REBIRTH THOUGH VIOLENCE
Up to now we have focused on the destructive dimensions of the massacre, but now let us turn to the superficially 'creative' element. Allow me to suggest that Cho's motive was not only to
wage war on being, but to enter the realm of being in the most insidious way.
We cannot underestimate the significance of the of his 'Multimedia Manifesto'--so intrinsic to this homicidal act that Cho literally stops killing in order to post his parcel before resuming the murders. This parcel contained 27 QuickTIme video files of him reading text to the camera, 43 photos of him brandishing weapons in menacing poses, and thousands of words of text, much of which has not been published by NBC.
This is vital to understanding the events of that day because if Cho is suffering from the existential sickness of non-being, the Multimedia Manifesto functions as a deranged antidote to his problem. It is in this package that Cho attempts to trade his old identity of isolated loner for a new one. Overnight this voiceless misfit has gained the world's attention--the Question Mark Kid is now a household name.
And with the world watching Cho gives the performance of a lifetime, nailing the role of persecuted martyr who was tragically forced into becoming the exterminating angel - a part he claims he had to play with the greatest reluctance.
But as Dr. Michael Wellner remarked (Wellner reviewed the original materials Cho mailed to NBC), "These videos do not help us understand him. They distort him. He was meek. He was quiet. This is a PR tape of him trying to turn himself into a Quentin Tarantino character." Cho's attempted rebirth was of course a lie, a slick marketing campaign. But it was what it was; a desperate and pathetic attempt at being from the ultimate state of non-being—from beyond the grave.
IV JESUS IN REVERSE
One of the most disturbing aspects of the Manifesto was the degree to which Cho identifies with Jesus; “…You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people. […] Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated and be impaled upon on a cross? And left to bleed to death for your amusement?”
Just as evil is a mockery of good (i.e. the Black Mass as a parody of the Mass), Cho turns the story of Jesus inside-out. The basic movement of Jesus' death and resurrection is the story of
one who surrenders himself in self-giving love and is raised to eternal life by God the Father. Cho's story is of one who kills in hatred, only to be raised from death as a ghostly image flickering across TV screens the world over.
And instead of inspiring disciples to spread the message of love, Cho believes his act will ''inspire generations of weak and defenseless people'. We can only surmise what he means my this, but it is not hard to imagine copycat killers taking up the call to arms.
V. GOOD IN CONTEMPLATING EVIL?
Unfortunately understanding evil provides little comfort, nor does it explain why God allows its existence. So we may be asking, what benefit can we possibly draw from these insights into the sad, tormented life of Seung-Hui Cho?
Perhaps only that Cho is an exemplary counter-model to what Jesus promises when he says; “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (Jn 10:10) If this abundance is the fruit of love, mutuality and forgiveness, in Cho we have seen how evil can deprive us of this as hatred and resentment took him into the realm of non-being, culminating in his act of radical destruction.
And finally, if we truly contemplate our instinctive repulsion to evil—how our sensibilities recoil in horror at its senselessness—it should affirm the profound truth that life is utterly precious and good. And though that revelation may arrive shrouded in darkness, we might still be surprised to find ourselves trembling before God’s mysterious presence.
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