It's a Simpsons World

 No comment needed:

Image sourced from Cnn.com: https://www.cnn.com/2021/01/22/us/simpsons-lisa-harris-inauguration-trnd/index.html

God's Providential Hand at Work

Happy New Year!

Yes, I've been negligent in writing this blog, but it's not as if the readership is clamoring for more!

I like to see how God uses me as an instrument of His will. This has happened, yet again, in the strings of cause-and-effects that have resulted in the writing of this post. Today Thursday January 7, 2021 is the feast day of St. Raymond of Pinafort. I read a few cursory pieces of information on his life, which led me to try to find his seminal text Summa Cassum - on the topic of codifying the sacrament of Penitence, both for priests and the faithful. More on that below.

Following some internet links in trying to find a pdf version of Summa Cassum further led me to an article about St. Raymond asking St. Thomas Aquinas to write a defense of the Catholic Faith to help convert Jews and Moors, which in turn led me to bookmark numerous works by St. Thomas Aquinas.

But, back to St. Raymond's Summa Cassum. After the remaining two runoff elections, the American election is now officially over. There were two immediate and significant results from the extreme left-leaning Democratic Party taking control of the Presidency, Congress and the Senate for at least the next four years. First, the dramatic events that occurred yesterday on Capitol Hill, which were nothing short of a coup, a takeover of the government by President Trump's supporters. Secondly, the forthcoming no-holds-barred attack on the gift of life that will be led by Vice President Kamala Harris, the prosecutor doing the abortion industry's bidding in going after David Deleiden.

Bearing all this in mind, this morning I was struck by these comments on passages from the Summa, which I found particularly apt to the United States. Professor Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira discusses how St. Raymond, preaching the Word of God to cities ahead of a Cardinal's visit, wonders about the spiritual health of a community. He goes through several arguments and counter-arguments as to how one can ascertain the degree of faith in a community. Then he reasons:

Notwithstanding, there is a test that we can apply to know when a city or an epoch is in a state of grace, and it works very well.

When persons in the state of mortal sin are together, there are three possible degrees of evil that can result. In the first degree, there are simply those who are in mortal sin, and nothing further. In the second degree, there are those who are glad to be in mortal sin; they have antipathy toward those who are in the state of grace. In the third and worse degree, there are those who promote mortal sin; they are openly hostile to those in the state of grace; they hate those who are good. Among those who represent these three degrees a curious psychological phenomenon takes place: they instinctively form a front against the good.

The consequence is that in a city where many people are in state of mortal sin, good persons are not well-received. On the contrary, in a city where many people are in the state of grace, the good are very well-received.

In epochs when saints are the object of general enthusiasm, one can say that most of the population is living in the grace of God. On the contrary, in epochs when saints are persecuted, it can be said that most of the population is not in the grace of God. The way an epoch treats a saint is the way it treats God. Most of the inhabitants of that epoch reveal their position before God in this way. The saint is an image of God; whoever loves the image, loves God, and whoever hates the image, hates God. (https://www.traditioninaction.org/SOD/j163sd_St.RaymondPenafort_1-23.html)

There we have it. The United States of America can be judged by how well they welcome and treat God, and also by how much they revile God in their lives.

Let us pray that God's Providential Will has a chance to reveal itself to, and in, this nation.

Desire Lines Workshop by Heather King

Hey, "creatives"! Here's a half-day workshop led by Catholic writer Heather King. It takes place December 5 via Zoom. Check out her introductory video below.

 

 

I only know of Heather through her writings for the Magnificat daily Mass and office readings - a yearly subscription gift from my dear friend Allanagh.

 

She (Heather) seems like a very interesting person to get to know. I hope to do so this winter through her book-length writings, which I would encourage you to also look at. I assume they are available everywhere, including on her website, in both print and digital formats.

 

While on the subject, check out Heather's website: https://www.heather-king.com/ 

This is what's wrong

Yep, I'm gonna take out all my frustrations with the world (Covid-19, wearing masks everywhere, house renos, work, not writing, etc) in this blog post.

This is what set me off today:

It's a news item taken from CNN.com

In the run-up to one of the most important elections the American people have ever faced in their short 200-year history as a nation, Kamala Harris' shoes are the hot topic that Americans are "raving" about. I don't want to tell 330 million people what they should or shouldn't be raving about... well, I guess I DO want to tell them what not to rave about, and that would be a politician's shoes.

I mean, really? Look around, America, might there possibly be some other topic that could be more important than fashion. Hmm? Maybe?

Because, otherwise, the rest of the world reads a headline like this and they think that maybe Americans are so vapid, clueless, and superficial that they got exactly what they deserved in President Trump. 

And we all know that can't be right? Can it?

I feel much better now.

Friday Riddle

 Friday Riddle

When can a pronoun be sung?

When "him" becomes "hymn".

Dying Again

So, last night's dream was a bizarre tale indeed.

I don't remember the intricate plot, but the events took place in Toronto. After all the hoopla was over, I found myself in the passenger seat of a car driven by someone who was supposed to be one of my two cousins, but probably didn't actually look like either of them.

You know how dreams are.

We were leaving Toronto and she was driving too fast and almost missed the exit ramp to get on the highway out of the city. I don't know which highway she wanted to take. It doesn't matter.

At the last second, she yanked the steering wheel and the car swerved to the left. I could tell the car was going to run over a curb/partition, and so could my cousin. I braced myself for the jolt and she tried to correct the car's trajectory but failed. Instead of turning to the right and staying in the exit lane, the car simply kept going toward the left and, when it ran out of road, dove off what suddenly appeared to be a cliff.

I stared at the water below as the car lazily flipped over and then I clapped gleefully, aware of the ironic twist in the narrative: I had just spent an endless amount of time getting out of some type of complicated trouble, only to die during my escape.

Everything went into slo-motion, and the second that I became aware that we would crash upside down into the water below (and die), I woke up.

But I so relish that liberating feeling I had of acknowledging and appreciating the irony of the situation without being concerned about my wellfare.

I think this is the second dream I've had within a month wherein I die. Well, at least I didn't have have the Covid virus, unlike in some of my other recent dreams.

Blaming the Wrong Scapegoat

"The Devil made me do it!"

Remember that gem from the nineteen seventies? I can't remember the product but Madison Avenue advertisers, cashing in on Flip Wilson's popular catch phrase, hit a home run with that one.

Funny thing, though, is that we're still blaming the Devil for whatever evil thing we've done which we think couldn't possibly come from ourselves, unless we were provoked, encouraged, driven, lied to, by the Devil himself.

After all, we pray to St. Michael after each Mass (and sometimes in between Masses): "...and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen."

So, we acknowledge the dangerous role that the Devil plays in our lives and, of course, we wish to be spared of his influence by letting St. Michael fight our battles. But just in case he's busy fighting someone else's battle, we can always claim that it wasn't my fault (that I sinned). It was Adam's fault for creating Original Sin; it was the Devil's corrupting influence in my life (because my soul is so pure-white and my goodness is such a threat to the Evil one?); it was my drinking, etc. There are infinite scapegoats for our inability to do good.

So we go on sinning and blaming/giving credit to the Devil. Meanwhile, Jesus - the Logos of the universe - became incarnate precisely to be the scapegoat that we need in order to be spiritually cleansed. But we don't in humility turn to Jesus. Instead, we lay praise/blame on the Devil, who, I would think, is more than happy to take credit for our most recent downfall. Why not? He's got big shoulders, and if we can lay the blame of our own sinfulness on him, he'll gladly take it, especially if it stops us from going to Jesus with a contrite heart and begging for His forgiveness. And notice that this way, too, we don't actually have to acknowledge the real reason for our own sinfulness: The Devil made me do it! Not me! I'm fundamentally, essentially, ontollogically, a good person. If I do bad things, those actions/thoughts/words/omissions surely don't come from me. How could it be me? I've been baptized. I have the Holy Spirit dwelling in me. I'm good. Heck, I even believe in God. I'm practically saved as it is by just waking up in the morning! No, if I do bad things, it has to be due to the almighty powerful Devil's influence.

And the Devil, who doesn't have to life a finger to further corrupt us and draw us away from God, sits back and laughs at our downfall.

* * *

PS: After reading this blog, my wife exclaimed, "The Devil never makes you do anything."

Touche, dear.