Why don't we work harder in service of the Lord?

Even a dog wants to please his master.

How much more should we humans want to please our Lord?

Captivity is not Incarceration

I think I've mentioned before that I take notes during Mass. It's a great idea; I highly recommend it.

Sometimes I take notes at other times, too. The problem is, I don't always have a context for them, so later on, I often forget what the note was for--or even that I'd written it in the first place!

I had that experience the other day, when I came across a line I'd scrawled on the top of a piece of paper: Captivity is not incarceration.

I saw it and thought, what did I mean by that? I couldn't remember exactly, but it got me to thinking.

Sometimes, we are captives to our bad habits--or to sin, to be more honest about it. But it doesn't feel like we're in captivity. It's not like we're in some prison camp, flogged on a regular basis and fed scraps from the spoiled-food bin behind the supermarket.

It seems like we're in control. Like the alcoholic who says, "Hey, I'm not an alcoholic. I just enjoy a drink now and then." Or the girl whose had more sex partners than I've had fish dinners, but thinks she's just having fun.

These things can tie us with silken ropes. They can actually feel good--until we pull too hard against them, or worse still, try to remove them. Then we realize who's really in control...and it's not us.

Well, thanks to the scriptures, we know where this road leads, don't we, fellow prodigals? It's not incarceration, but it is captivity of the worst sort. And like the prodigal, we'll end up bankrupt--morally as well as economically.

So, then how do we get free? How do we make the jailbreak from sin?

By asking God for help, of course. God waits on us patiently, ready to respond.

"But isn't it really," asks the cynic, "just trading one form of captivity for another? Don't we exchange one master, the devil, for another, however benificent God might seem?"

Ummm...no. Because remember, God gives us many graces, and one of the most important is the ability to choose freely. We can choose to accept God or reject him. But once we accept satanic domination, once we slip those soothing, tempting, silken ropes onto our hands and feet--and around our neck--we can't so freely walk away from them. To use another old-fashioned word, we can't easily repent...unless we ask God for help.

Luckily, God is always there. And combining our determination with his infinite graces, we can succeed.

Now, does that sound like captivity to you?

Charity begins...in government?

I see that a bunch of professors at Catholic universities opposed the presence of Speaker of the House John Boehner (http://www.renewamerica.com/columns/cassidy/110519).

It seems they think he isn't supportive enough of government intervention in people's lives.

Well, you'll have to forgive me, but I thought that this sort of thing was way beyond government's job.

What I prefer is a government small enough that I can keep enough of my money to donate to the charities of my choice and where I know it can do the most good, and not have my hard-earned dollars confiscated and redistributed at some bureaucrat's whim. (This is also in keeping with the Catholic notion of subsidiarity.)

If these professors (who, while they may teach at Catholic schools, don't seem particularly Catholic; I wonder how many support abortion) believe that the only way the poor in this country will ever receive help is by forced contribution, they show a remarkably weak faith in Catholic teaching--and far too much faith in faceless bureaucrats.

For a more reasonable approach to this, see this link:
"...[A]n ongoing dialogue between Paul Ryan, a Catholic from Wisconsin, who is the House Budget committee chairman, and Archbishop Timothy Dolan, the president of the Catholic bishop’s conference, about Catholic social teaching and its application to the current budget debate."
http://www.nationalreview.com/corner/267678/shepherding-moral-economic-policy-paul-ryan-and-archbishop-dolan-s-dialogue-catholic-s

At the Transfiguration

At the Transfiguration, Jesus appeared with Moses and Elijah.

Peter and James and John were present as witnesses.

Clearly, these three could recognize Jesus. But how did they know that the other two were Moses and Elijah? Did the Holy Spirit tell them? Did Moses say, "Hi, I'm Moses, and this is my friend, Elijah"?

I'm not trying to be irreverent at all. I just can't help but be a little curious about it.

Here's a question for you

Do you suppose Jesus ever had a toothache?

As fully man, he probably did. As fully God, certainly not.

What do you think?

"Do you hear that funny noise?"

If you're married, you've probably had this happen to you.

You're driving along, spouse seated next to you, and you notice an unusual noise coming from somewhere in the car.

So you spend the next twenty minutes trying to get your spouse to notice it, too. In your mind, it gets louder and louder until everything else is drowned out--except for your spouse telling you that he or she doesn't hear a thing.

Sometimes, I think this is how God talks to us. We hear something, softly, calling our attention; we're not sure at first, but it comes to occupy our minds more and more, until nothing else seems to matter.

Of course, what we're talking about is a lot more important than a squeaky fan belt or a stone caught in a tire tread.

But how is it that one person's mind can be suddenly "tuned in" to something, when perhaps it's been there all along, unnoticed, and continues to be so, even to those standing nearby?

Well, I don't really have any explanation--but I wonder how many people's souls would become tuned into Christ if they'd just stop talking, or watching TV, or texting inanities, long enough to let it happen.

The world may never know.

(By counterpoint, haven't you noticed that when you buy a new car, it seems like everyone else is driving the same model? Yet if you suddenly become alive with the Holy Spirit and start talking about your encounter with faith, it seems like everyone around you thinks you're nuts.)

My own story isn't interesting enough to write in detail, at least not all at once, but I for one am glad that the "funny noise" I heard turned out not to be an alternator burning out (though that's happened to me more than once), but God, burning his way in.

(As an aside, this entry came to my mind while reading Groeschel's "A Still, Small Voice", about private revelation.)

"I live in this city, but I don't know anything about it"

There's a saying that "Converts make the best Catholics." I don't know that it's true--it almost certainly isn't--but like a lot of sayings, there is some truth to it.

It makes me think of people who live in a big city, like Chicago (where I'm from).

You can talk to a lot of lifetime Chicagoans and ask them if they've ever visited any of the city's landmarks.

"Ever been to the Field Museum?" Nope.
"Ever take the kids for a picnic on the lake and to Lincoln Park Zoo?" Naah, too crowded.
"Ever see the collection of Impressionist paintings at the Art Institute?" Why?

People can live in the midst of wonders, and never bother to look around.

Sometimes it takes a visitor, or someone who's just moved there, to visit and point out the great features of a place.

I think the same is true of a lot of "cradle Catholics"; they take the faith for granted.

"Do you realize it's literally a miracle at every Mass?" Nope; got to get home before the ball game starts.
"Ever notice how good it feels to go to confession and get all that off your chest?" You're kidding--I just want to get it over with!
"Thanks to my new job, I can now afford to give more money to the church!" What for? Have you seen the Vatican? They've got all the money in the world.

Okay, I'm exaggerating to make a point. But you can probably see where I'm going with this.

Converts to Catholicism can be like eager new residents--they look around and marvel; after all, something drew them to that city in the first place.*

For me, I truly believe that the Catholic faith is literally God's gift to mankind. Let's appreciate it for what it is.


*For the moment, let's leave aside probably the most famous convert of all, the Apostle Paul...