Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day!

Yesterday at Mass, the priest gave one of the most powerful homilies I’ve ever heard. He began by wishing all fathers a happy father’s day, and then addressed those who had not had a good father, a father who hurt them, abused them, abandoned them: “I am sorry. It’s not supposed to be that way. I apologize… and you must continue to pray for them.”
Fatherhood, he said, is such a noble vocation as one receives his fatherhood straight from God, Our Father. And while some fathers may have made this life “hell on earth” through abuse of their family or the abandoning their family: remember that real hell on earth, as well as eternal hell, are only possible when we ourselves abandon God.
Wise words to remember, when it’s so easy to blame everyone else for our faults, mistakes and unhappiness.
A good father imitates God in his faithfulness and love. He sacrifices his time, his pleasure, his own desires for the good of his family. He never stops giving, he never stops loving. Even when his children are grown and on their own, the love and sacrifices of a last forever.

In the weeks leading up to Father’s Day, there are numerous ads on TV channels advertising Father’s Day sales, peddling merchandise to give to the “old man” in your life. Tools, ties, shirts… the usual fodder for a holiday set aside to honor the dads we know and love. Watching the commercials, I witnessed smiling young dads (almost all with full heads of hair) who happily unwrapped their kid’s presents and then would laughingly go outside, hand-in-hand with the kid, to play fetch with the dog or throw the football back and forth. Cute.
I remember Father’s Day being somewhat similar to that when I was little. I’d gleefully hand him the present I’d hurriedly (and horribly) wrapped by myself (that my mom had bought), and watch him unwrap it– even though I’d told him less than five minutes before what I’d gotten him for Father’s Day.

But now, Father’s Day is a lot more than that to me. And it’s so much less to the rest of the world.

Lots of men are fathers, but not all are dads. The ratio of fathers/ dads is pretty glaringly disproportionate, even more so in the past 40-50 years, especially since the legalization of abortion and society’s infatuation with the Pill. Instead of blissful, carefree couples that can do what they want, whenever they want, without the terrible consequence called “pregnancy”, there are millions of fatherless children… and millions of childless fathers.
Not only has the acceptance of the Pill seriously damaged the way women are viewed, but also it has affected men in the same way. The “freedom” given by the Pill makes both men and women objects to be used for the other’s sexual pleasure. When procreation is negated from the purpose of sex, all that remains is pleasure for the individual. The man uses the woman for his pleasure, the woman uses the man for hers. Even if the pleasure is mutual, there is a serious, serious omission that makes it a cheap, utilitarian and selfish pleasure.

There are numerous names for sex. Two older ones are “making love” and “giving”. These phrases are in direct opposition to the selfishness of sex with birth control. Making “love” with birth control is all about the pleasure that one receives; it is selfish and egocentric. What about when people used to say they were going to “give” themselves to one another? What are you giving?– your body as a trade for sexual pleasure?
Now here comes Theology of the Body. In giving, you freely give a gift. In the case of sex, you give your body to another person. Not for pleasure, but out of love, in a desire to wholly give yourself to another in the highest way men and women can. The only true “no strings attached” is when two people give themselves to one another totally and completely.

That means accepting the consequences.

Meaning that if you do this, you both know and accept that you might be making a baby right now, because that’s what sex does when you really give your body to another, without having tampered with it to change the natural consequence.

That’s selfless, that’s real. That’s love.

Now to fatherhood. It’s no wonder that in a society that has made the baby-making act something all about pleasure that fathers are cheapened and devalued as well. In a world or a time where men had sex to make babies– or at least acknowledged and accepted the fact that having sex with a woman meant you could be making a baby with her– that meant that men were more or less ready to be men. They were ready to accept the consequences of their actions.
Dads are real men. They are those men who accepted the responsibility of becoming fathers. Some maybe not as willingly as others, or as knowingly, but Dads are those who rose to the occasion– they had greatness thrust upon them.
It’s not all cutesy kids running around handing you wrapped packages of new tools and fancy ties. Fatherhood is something so much bigger, something so important—- something that our world today mocks and reviles out of fear for the influence a real father has.

Grug, the caveman dad in The Croods, starts out as a typically clueless and overbearing movie dad, only to reveal the true depth of love he has as a father by making the ultimate sacrifice for his family.

A father is a responsible, caring, loving and giving man who has given up his own life and his own dreams to pursue another life and other dreams with the woman who bears his children. It’s breadwinning through hard work and sweat and blood and tears; it’s training up his kids so that they know right from wrong, good from bad—- and to know that their actions have consequences (the concept of “consequence” was drilled into you from an early age by either a spank or bed without dinner).
It’s raising boys to be men who respect women; and teaching daughters to be worthy of respect, and to recognize men from boys…

It’s getting up at 2 in the morning to clean up the puke from your daughter who gorged herself on too many cookies after dinner; getting up at 5 am to drive to a basketball game; staying up until past midnight, even though you have to be at work at 8, to play a game or watch a stupid movie with your kids… It’s spending hours listening to baby-babble about imaginary friends; watching girlie movies and playing “horsey”… It’s playing basketball and letting you win, and making you repeat over and over and over until you get the hang of it… It’s making you stay at the table until you finish your dinner, or stay up until you finish your homework…

It’s instilling in your kids a fear of God that lasts past 16 when they get their own driver’s license and can drive themselves to church; it’s instilling in them a fear and respect that means they will do their utmost to never act in a way that disappoints him.

It takes a real man to be a father. It sure isn’t easy—- the job description is enough to make most guys run away. It never was easy, and I imagine it’s harder in this world than it ever has been. But that’s all the more reason to celebrate Father’s Day now, to thank our Dads for being so different, so loving, so devoted, and so authentically “dad”.

Happy Father’s Day, to the greatest man I know. Thank you, Daddy. I love you!

New Year! New You! Okay enough.

Happy New Year to everyone!

It’s almost 2 weeks into the New Year, I know, but look at it this way. This weekend we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord, so, technically and liturgically speaking, the Christmas season hasn’t (quite) ended yet. (Reason #432,981,343 why the Catholic Church is awesome– we celebrate Christmas longer.)

Now how are those New Year’s Resolutions coming along? Good, good. Mine? Oh, I haven’t made one yet. I’m still stuck in Christmas, remember.

New Year’s is such a strange holiday. Our world thrives on hype and spectacle, yet New Year’s never fails to be a holiday characterized more by weary exhaustion masked with artificial excitement and forced enjoyment rather than genuine anticipation of a new year and hope for a better one. With all its garish trappings and fanfare, New Year’s throws the world’s own medicine back at it, and we don’t like the taste.

There is so much pressure to have fun and bring in the New Year with a bang. The next day, we promptly resolve, with a determination that comes only from having just learned a hard lesson, to not make the same mistakes again.

The excitement at being the “new and improved” version of you lasts… until lunchtime? Two days? Maybe five? Then the novelty wears off, your iron will softens to room temperature, and theeeeeeere we go. You’re back. Your old self missed you too much.

“I’m back! Did you miss me?!”

Part of me is inclined to ridicule the throngs of hopeless optimists. Year in and year out they make, in the genuine sincerity of the moment, these resolutions that in their heart of hearts they really know will not last. I’m not a pessimist, let alone practical; and I am usually the one with the most foolish hopes and aspirations. I suppose I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, generally speaking, simply because “everyone else does”… and because this tradition seems ridiculous…

Until I realize how familiar this pattern is– seeing your faults, resolving to not make them again, getting a fresh start, and…. falling again.

This pattern generally restarts every few Saturdays, late in the afternoon, in a little room with a screen… “…I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to to sin no more, and to avoid the near occasions of sin...“

oh. Not only do we do that once a year, we do it at once or twice a month!

This sheds light on a few things. No wonder we can’t keep New Year’s resolutions– promises to “do better” that we make on our own can’t hardly be expected to be kept when a sincere pledge to God is violated on a daily– if not hourly– basis. Secondly, I see in this never-ending cycle of earnest desire to “be better” the undaunted hope of the human soul. It is seen in our ever-failing New Year’s resolutions, and in our constant “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!” apologies to Our Lord. Does it matter that you have made, and subsequently broken, dozens of New Year’s resolutions? Does it matter that you have been to confession and dutifully prayed the Act of Contrition 100x, only to be back and do the exact same thing again? No.

Is it discouraging? Only if you choose to see it that way. But it’s really not.

Why do we bother making resolutions? Why do we not only promise God that we won’t sin, but that we won’t even let ourselves near an opportunity to do so? That seems a little rash.

Then the wise words of Benjamin Martin (aka “The Patriot) echo in my ears: “Aim Small, Miss Small.”

God has us figured out– as He should, since we’re His beloved humans and He has given everything for us. He knows that the spirit is willing and the flesh is weak. He knows that we really truly do want to serve Him, at least at some point, but that we lose sight of our goals. He knows we have short attention spans.

What happens when you, afraid to commit to something, reply with, “Sure, that sounds good but I don’t know, I might have something going on…”?

Nothing. Nothing happens. You’ve given yourself an easy way out with your “I don’t know” and “might have” another obligation.

Now imagine if we in turn said “I am truly sorry for having offended Thee and I detest all my sins… I will try, with the help of Your Grace, to sin no more, but I might mess up again so if I do, I told you so.”

God already knows you’re going to mess up again. When you say the Act of Contrition (the real one), He isn’t making you sign in blood that if you sin again, you will be immediately cast into Hell because you failed your “firmly resolve”. All that is happening is that you, in that moment in the confessional, are putting yourself before your Heavenly Father and telling Him that you will not sin again. Do you mean it? Of course you mean it– you know you don’t want to sin. Do you know that you will mess up? Sure.

Does that mean you are lying?

No.

It simply means that you will try– and that at that moment, when you are having a heart-to-heart with God, you really do mean to not sin again.

God isn’t Yoda. He isn’t a green little muppet that talks weird English. He also doesn’t give you the ultimatum of “Do or do not. There is no try.”

Instead, God says, “Aim small, miss small.” Aim for perfection. Aim for that thing which only Christ Himself, and a few other truly blessed individuals (okay, the Blessed Mother), have ever achieved. That’s one of the main reasons why Christ came to earth in the first place though– to show us the way. There’s the analogy of the man who finds a bird trapped in his barn, and who, in his desperation to get it outside to rejoin the flock, discovers the beauty of the Incarnation, of the God who became one of His lowly creatures to show them, through example, how to return to where they belong.

We cannot be perfect. We are flawed and will always fall. But what matters is our goal, and how we resolve and re-resolve to attain that goal.

We are aiming at Heaven. We are shooting for perfection. At least our sites are on, but we might not hit our mark…

We may, however, land on that little, winding road that will take us to Heaven.

Re-Post of Thoughts on Prayer

Years ago I remember reading a book for young Catholics about prayer. The point that struck me the most was that when you are praying, and you find your thoughts wandering away from the conversation you are supposed to be having with your God and Father, it is often better to bring those distracting ideas to Him instead of mentally berating yourself and trying to return to the unfathomable mysteries of the Trinity. For some reason, the notion of bringing these ordinary, everyday things to God in prayer had escaped me, and I had written them off as unimportant and silly—God wouldn’t care for me to tell Him about that, I had probably thought.

However good it is to dwell on the power and greatness of God, prayer is more than sitting in mesmerized silence, thinking about all the things about God that we do not and never will understand. Of course it is good to be humble in the presence of the Lord, and to meditate on His goodness and power—but God is more than a distant Being in the Heavens, untouchable and unapproachable in His majesty.

Prayer took on a new meaning when God became Man and taught us how to pray—giving us the “Our Father” as an example. Too often we rattle off that prayer without thinking about the words. Usually we’re thinking about how greasy that old lady’s hand is when your church forms a human chain around the entire church; or how awkward it is that you are not participating in the human prayer chain and so you concentrate on pretending to be lost in the Lord’s Prayer…

The chaplain I had at my alma mater during my junior and senior years loved the Our Father. Saying it was my penance nearly every time I went to confession. But not just to say it—I had to really say it, slowly, meditatively, taking in every word. Then I began to really appreciate the beauty of that simple prayer that I had said every day of my life, without really ever understanding it.

In that prayer, God is acknowledged as omnipotent Ruler and Creator of the Universe—but also called your Father (“Our Father, who art in Heaven”) He is praised, humbly approached, and you deliver yourself to Him, surrendering yourself to His Holy Will (“Hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven”). You humbly petition Him for what you need—not just want—and you ask for forgiveness, for sins committed against Him and your fellow men (“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”); and finally, you ask Him to rescue you from sin and even the near occasions of it (“and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”)

Calling the Lord of Heaven and Earth your “Father” is not the way to address a God who is unapproachable and indifferent towards the millions of people on the earth, nor is asking Him for your “daily bread” or for forgiveness of sins. In this prayer, you see the love that God has for us—the love of a Father for His children.

This conscientious praying of the Our Father brought me to once again consider what I’d read before on that book on prayer—about telling God about all the little “nothings” in your life that distract you when you’re trying to say a “good” prayer. So I would begin to pray, just waiting until I got distracted. “By the way, Lord, about my job. Oh yeah, and my love-life. Oh and my co-worker, man, she annoys me. And bills are annoying too. My paycheck isn’t nearly enough…” And on and on.

The problem? My prayer life began to resemble my everyday stream-of-consciousness. And as much as I’d like to say that I “pray always”, that’s not exactly what I had going on. Prayer is supposed to be a conversation with God, not, as my fellow writer Richard Holmes put it so well, a monologue.

Mother Theresa said this about prayer: “In the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face God in prayer and silence, God will speak to you. Then you will know that you are nothing. It is only when you realize your nothingness, your emptiness, that God can fill you with Himself. Souls of prayer are souls of great silence.”

When you make prayer all about you, it is not really a prayer. You might start out, as I did, addressing God and saying “here are my problems”—but soon you forget who you are talking to and are simply making a list of “woe is me”, and not listening for a response. You must bring these things to God in prayer—and then leave them before Him, silently placing them all before Him, humbly putting all your own worries aside, making your heart ready for Him. Then you are no longer an over-worked, underpaid and unappreciated nobody, you are the beloved child of God.

It is not easy to quiet your heart. But when I succeed, I find that prayer is far less tiring and far more peaceful—which makes sense: I’d much rather listen to Our Lord than to myself! Spill out everything that is on your mind, but don’t dwell on it. Get it out there, and then leave it. Put yourself in His presence, and wait. Mother Theresa also said, “Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.”

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness…” Mother Teresa

Philippians 4:6-7 reiterates what Mother Theresa said: “Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (RSV)

How wonderful it is to have that silence and peace, and be free of the constant barrage of noise and information we have today. We are so used to having something new garner our attention at every moment that it has become almost foreign to us to have to settle our focus on one thing, and to wait for something to come to us. But there is never anything more worth waiting for than that quiet conversation with God in the stillness of your heart. Our Lord speaking to you, coming in to your heart that you have cleared out for Him… aaah. Suddenly you find you aren’t so tied down by the everyday annoyances and struggles, and you find your heart yearning for the freedom and peace that comes in that silent prayer. You have made that time for someone other than yourself—Someone who is a much better listener and has much better advice.