December 5, 1933: A Toast to a Well-Deserved Failure

Prohibition is an awful flop.

We like it.

It can't stop what it's meant to stop.

We like it.

It's left a trail of graft and slime,

It's filled our land with vice and crime,

It don't prohibit worth a dime.

Nevertheless, we're for it.

Franklin P. Adams

It has just been brought to my attention that it was 80 years ago today that the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution -- Prohibition -- was repealed.  Now it isn't every day that an injustice gets remedied in our corrupt world, so when one is, that is a moment to celebrate and commemorate.

Yes, Prohibition was an injustice.  It was an unjust burden on individual liberty to outlaw drinking for all, even in moderation, because of the relative few who abused drink.  Deliberate drunkenness is a serious sin, because it deprives us of our capacity to reason; but there is nothing, however legitimate, that can't be abused.  Liberty itself can be abused, and is, every minute of every day; but that would not justify locking everybody up on the off-chance.  Besides, despite the religious justifications advanced for Prohibition, the absolute prohibition of alcohol is contrary to Scripture.  Our Lord Himself turned water into wine at the wedding at Cana: not grape juice, but actual wine, with alcohol and everything.  (Question: at the time of Christ, was there such a thing as non-fermenting grape juice?)  He also drank wine Himself -- for which the Pharisees criticized him (Matthew 11:19).  And St. Paul advises his brother bishop, Timothy, to take wine for his health (1 Timothy 5:23).  

Prohibition was an outstanding example of America's curious ideas about morality.  In his essay "On American Morals," G.K. Chesterton reflects on an article by an American writer calling for the abolition of what she called "righteousness," on the grounds that "righteousness" was incompatible with reality.  He sums up the American attitude:

The standard of abstract right and wrong apparently is this. That a girl by smoking a cigarette makes herself one of the company of the fiends of hell. That such an action is much the same as that of a sexual vampire. That a young man who continues to drink fermented liquor must necessarily be "evil" and must deny the very existence of any difference between right and wrong. That is the "standard of abstract right and wrong" that is apparently taught in the American home. And it is perfectly obvious, on the face of it, that it is not a standard of abstract right or wrong at all. That is exactly what it is not. That is the very last thing any clear-headed person would call it. It is not a standard; it is not abstract; it has not the vaguest notion of what is meant by right and wrong. It is a chaos of social and sentimental accidents and associations, some of them snobbish, all of them provincial, but, above all, nearly all of them concrete and connected with a materialistic prejudice against particular materials. To have a horror of tobacco is not to have an abstract standard of right; but exactly the opposite. It is to have no standard of right whatever; and to make certain local likes and dislikes as a substitute. We need not be very surprised if the young man repudiates these meaningless vetoes as soon as he can; but if he thinks he is repudiating morality, he must be almost as muddle-headed as his father. And yet the writer in question calmly proposes that we should abolish all ideas of right and wrong, and abandon the whole human conception of a standard of abstract justice, because a boy in Boston cannot be induced to think that a nice girl is a devil when she smokes a cigarette.

This muddled thinking persists to this day.  There are still many who look upon even the moderate use of alcohol and tobacco as vices, in a country that countenances, among other things, promiscuity, sexual deviancy, abortion and euthanasia.  Indeed, it is practically a vice to regard a vice as a vice.  We really do not have a standard of right or wrong.  William F. Buckley, Jr. once commented: "You can take the most disorderly, self-indulgent twenty-one-year-old sailing; he may smoke pot in his cabin while fornicating, but he will not throw the trash overboard.  How come?"  It is a species of the "formless fanaticism" that Chesterton called the great danger of the American temperament.

The failure of Prohibition is attributed, at least by some, to the shortcomings of law enforcement; by others, to the shortcomings of men in general; but the fact is, despite its noble intentions, Prohibition deserved to fail.  Tonight, before I go to bed, I will pull a cork and drink a toast to the correction of this extravagant societal over-correction.

“Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,

There’s always laughter and good red wine.

At least I’ve always found it so.

Benedicamus Domino!”

― Hilaire Belloc

Things I Am Thankful For, In No Particular Order

Squanto, Thanksgiving icon: Catholic.  FYI.

I am thankful for the ankle sprain I suffered in January.  There are few physical torments to compare with an ankle sprain, and I have suffered more than my share of ankle sprains; but this one saved me from a bad situation.  This is not to say that I want to sprain my ankle again, ever.

I am thankful for all the times I have not gotten my own way.  Have you ever stopped to consider the fact that disappointment is very often a sign of divine protection?  When you are attracted to someone of the opposite sex, say, and that person is not free to marry, or finds you repulsive, or suddenly disappears on you, that is God's protection.  When you don't get a job you really want, or even think you really need, that is God's protection, even though it looks like a catastrophe.  Thwarted plans are God's protection.  There is no greater disaster than eternal damnation, and so any disappointment, however terrible, is worth it if it saves us from that final and irreparable failure -- and that, really, is the ultimate purpose of these disappointments.  How many miseries I have been spared, and how many occasions of great sin I have been prevented from falling into, because of the times I was not allowed to have my own way!  Think of Michael Jackson.  There was a man who always had his own way, by means of his vast wealth, and it was his ruin.

Which reminds me that I am thankful not to have been a woman of great means up to now.  How I might have ruined myself with huge amounts of filthy lucre, especially in my younger days, I do not care to think.

I am thankful for all the difficult people I have to deal with at work.  They teach me patience and forbearance.

I am thankful for all the talents and personal qualities I wish I had, but don't -- see thankfulness for the times I didn't get my own way, above.

I am thankful for all the trials and tribulations and sufferings I have endured.  There is more merit in five minutes of suffering than in 20 years of pleasure.

Under that same category, I am thankful to be living in dangerous and uncertain times.  I do not want to live in such times: I would much rather live in a time of peace (i.e., order and justice) and stability.  But that is not the time I have been given to live in.  God wants me to live in these times; He is in charge; and He has His reasons.

What is your list of things you are thankful for?  It should include even the things you don't want to be thankful for.  The time will come when those will prove to be worth the most.

Terrible Is This Place

Bernini's baldocchino at St. Peter's Basilica.
Photo by Ricardo Andre Frantz.

Last Sunday, before Mass, I happened to open my 1962 Missal up to the Common of Saints, and my eye fell on these lines: 

Terribilis est locus iste: hic domus Dei est et porta coeli: et vocabitur aula Dei.

Terrible is this place: it is the House of God, and the gate of Heaven; and it shall be called the Court of God.

That is the antiphon from the Introit of the Mass for the Dedication of a Church in the Extraordinary Form.  "Terrible" here is used in its older sense of "awe-inspiring."  I looked around the cathedral and thought of those words ringing inside that space at its dedication 92 Easter Sundays ago.  I must confess that it increased my anger and sorrow at the thought of the mutilation of that beautiful cathedral in 1979, and indeed the similar desecration of many other old churches, brutally inflicted against the will of the laity who built them, and in accordance with notions falsely attributed to the Second Vatican Council.

The Collect of this Mass:

Deus, qui invisibiliter omnia contines, et tamen pro salute generis humani signa tuae potentiae visibiliter ostendis: templum hoc potentia tuae inhabitationis illustra, et concede; ut omnes, qui huc deprecaturi conveniunt, ex quacumque tribulatione ad te clamaverint, consolationis tuae beneficia consequantur.  

O God, Who, though unseen, upholdest all things, and yet for the salvation of mankind dost visibly show signs of Thy power: give glory to this temple by the might of Thy indwelling, and grant that all who in their deep distress shall come and call upon Thee here, may receive Thy goodly comfort.

Imagine a bishop chanting this stirring prayer in a tiny church in a poor, humble town -- a tiny church that is no less the House of God and Gate of Heaven than a cathedral.  Indeed, how much more the Mighty Indwelling must uphold it in its littleness.  The Gradual:

Locus iste a Deo factus est, inaestimabile sacramentum, irreprehensibilis est.  Deus, cui adstat Angelorum chorus, exaudi preces servorum tuorum.

This place was made by God, a priceless mystery, it is without reproof.  O God, before Whom stands the choir of angels, give ear to the prayers of Thy servants.

The Lesson of the Mass for the Dedication of a Church is from Chapter 21 of the Apocalypse, the vision of the new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven; and the Gospel is the story of Zacheus from the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus declares that "this day is salvation come to this house."

I don't know how the dedication of a church goes according to the Mass of Paul VI, but I can see here one of the many reasons Pope Benedict XVI took the Traditional Mass out of mothballs.  We have gotten so casual and careless anymore about where we are when we are in church: we talk, we laugh, we dress like slobs, we let kids roughhouse in front of the tabernacle.  Priests and deacons behave in church as though they are merely at work and not inside a sacred space.  Of course, it doesn't help that many new churches are sterile and ugly, and do not appear to be in any way connected with religion.

Every new Latin Rite church should be dedicated according to the Extraordinary Form, and every Catholic should meditate on these propers, so that we can be reminded of just where we really are every Sunday, and how we ought to act there.

God Never Messes with Our Heads

Our Lady of Fatima pilgrim statue in Boise, 2007.
Photo by Jim Nourse.

When one breaks weeks of silence, one casts about for the best subject with which to do it.  One runs one's mind over affairs both temporal and spiritual, from the government shutdown to the Pope's Big Interviews that have caused such a ruckus.  Today the big news item in the Catholic world was the Holy Father's consecration of the world to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, on this, the 96th anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun at Fatima, witnessed by tens of thousands of believers and non-believers over a large area of Portugal.  To my way of thinking, this is only the third really comforting thing Pope Francis -- whom I believe can rightly be described as the Pope of our punishment -- has done so far in his reign, the first being the worldwide hour of Eucharistic adoration in June, and the second being the day of prayer and fasting for peace in Syria last month.  All of his talk about Mary and about the reality of hell and the devil is good, but not surprising, since, the Pope, no matter who he is, cannot do otherwise than reaffirm authentic Catholic doctrine.

Which brings me to one theme that has underlain my thoughts in recent days: God does not mess with our heads.

In a world saturated in the despairing infidelity of modernism, in which being manipulated by government, media, Madison Avenue, each other, and even ourselves is a daily way of life for nearly all of us, it pays to remind ourselves of this.  God is Truth and Justice, and can no more deceive than He can be deceived.  The beauty and order of creation, from galactic superclusters to the inner workings of the subatomic, testify to the existence of a Creator Who is all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful and all-good.  The laws of nature communicate truths about how creatures function and interact, and we try to traduce these laws at our peril.  The very best and highest authority that any proposition can have is that God revealed it.  On that basis alone, it would deserve to be believed and not doubted, even if we do not like it or cannot understand it.  

So how can we know that a proposition comes from God?  We can know it if it has the backing of the Church founded by Jesus Christ, endowed with His authority, under the headship of His Vicar, the Pope.  He gave us a clearly visible and recognizable institution to teach us all that we need to know in order to save our souls, and He has guaranteed it against error in matters of faith and morals.  No matter who the Pope is, no matter how many disconcerting things he may do -- even if he is an unabashed public sinner like Alexander Borgia, or hopelessly incompetent as an administrator, like St. Celestine V -- the Pope could not change even the tiniest particle of doctrine, even if he had all the armies that have ever existed at his back.  When it comes to the most critical business of our lives -- our eternal salvation -- God does not leave us to puzzle things out for ourselves, or pull a bait-and-switch on us.  His justice demands this.  Since He does not leave us without a lamp for our steps, He also does not leave us with any excuses for persisting in darkness.  God does not mess with our heads.

God will not mess with our heads even after we are dead.  Contrary to popular depictions of the afterlife in movies and books, there will be no confused period of wandering disembodied on the earth, no haunting by human spirits of houses or old battlefields, no mistaking hell for heaven, or heaven for hell.  In the very place where we die, we will be judged.  By the time others have figured out that we are dead, we will have already been completely undeceived about ourselves and about God, and about where we deserve to spend eternity -- and we will have already gone there.  At the end of time, all flesh will be confronted with all truth, and all obscurity and confusion will disappear.  We need not allow ourselves to be deceived by charlatans claiming to be the Second Coming.  They aren't.  The real Second Coming will leave us in no possible or impossible doubt as to its authenticity.  Some things really are that simple and straightforward.  God does not mess with our heads.

Since God does not mess with our heads, we can and should allow ourselves to derive consolation from both our Faith and its wholesome outward expressions that, in this modernist age, have been derided from within and without the Church as childish superstition.  We have allowed ourselves to become inured to believing bad news over good, but the Gospel really is good news, and is really true -- more true than anything that bears the stamp of the world, however plausible.  Beauty really is truth, and truth really is beauty: we need not be prisoners of the lie we have been conditioned to believe, that only the gray, the banal, the flat-footed and the pedestrian are real.  The forces of evil may seem to have the upper hand in our age, and in many places, but the truth is that they have already lost, and their time is short.   Jesus really is the Son of God, and really did die on the Cross to save us, and really did rise from the tomb and ascend into heaven.  He really did give us His Immaculate Mother to be our mother.  That is why we can expect good to come of the Holy Father once again consecrating the world to her Immaculate Heart.

We may deceive ourselves and each other.  We may play psychological games, and manipulate, and create frenzy and precipitate crises, one after the other, in order to control others.  The devil may also do this to us in order to lure us into hell.  But God never does any of these things.  If we find ourselves caught in these webs, God is not behind that.  Perversity and sadism are not attributes of God.  God never messes with our heads.

Autumnal Equinox

Today was the first day of Autumn.  Today we have equal periods of light and darkness -- hence the term "equinox" -- and after today, the periods of darkness will exceed in length the periods of light.

It is unfortunate that, based on no discernable mandate from the Second Vatican Council, the post-conciliar Church tried to throw out the Ember Days, penitential days that mark the changing seasons.  The purpose of the Ember Days is to thank God for His bounty in nature, and to remind us to use His gifts in moderation and assist those in need.  As I have pointed out in this space, the changes of season are freighted with spiritual significance.  The vernal equinox coincides with the Feast of the Annunciation, the beginning of the end of the winter of Satan's reign.  It also coincides with Easter, which marks the decisive defeat of Hell, and takes place on the first Sunday on or after the first full moon on or after the equinox.  The summer solstice, when the days begin to shorten, coincides with the Nativity of John the Baptist, who said that he must decrease while the Savior increased.  The winter solstice coincides with Christmas, when the Light of the World enters the world and the days begin to lengthen.   

There is no precise correspondence between the autumnal equinox and any major feast; but since the autumnal equinox does coincide with the time of harvest, my own personal speculations lead me to connect it with the harvest of souls that will take place at the End of Time.  Our business in life is to strive to come out on the right side of that harvest: to be  in with the wheat that is gathered into the barn, and not with the tares that are bundled up and go to be burned.

Prayer for Those Who Have Committed Suicide

Almighty God, Our Heavenly Father, we understand that Thy fifth commandment, “Thou shalt do no murder,” includes self murder. But in Thy divine mercy, we beg Thy forgiveness especially for (name), who have been so confounded by the pressures of this life that they felt there was no way they could continue. Grant, we beseech Thee, that they be forgiven their terrible sin and accepted into Thy divine providence, and that they may come to understand Thy ways and Thy nature. We ask this in Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.

When I was in high school, the brother of one of my classmates committed suicide.  I did not know him personally, but I did know that he had been having problems for a long time.  His tragic death haunted me for a long time.  I pondered what could make someone seek such an irreversible solution to his problems.  I thought about his friends and family blaming themselves, replaying over and over again in their minds all their dealings with him, and what they could possibly have done differently, or said differently, or not done or said, so that he would not have taken himself away from them forever.  I hoped, and still hope, that his will and reason were so impaired and overwhelmed as to mitigate or even remove his guilt.  I hope this any time I hear about someone taking his own life.

Years later, I had someone tell me he was planning on killing himself at some indefinite point in the future.  All I could think to do was to tell him that there is a hell, and if he murdered himself, he would go there, and that, once there, there would be no escape or reprieve for him, ever.  I do not know whether that was the right thing to say.  But I felt convinced that he needed to be convinced that suicide is indeed murder, and that eternal damnation was a possible and very real outcome.  I suspect there are many people to whom this has never occurred, for no other reason than that nobody has ever told it to them.  There is hardly anyone, even in the pulpits, willing to gainsay our materialistic culture that celebrates death as the solution to everything from depression to unwanted pregnancies to terminal illness.  We are given the impression that our lives and our bodies are mere chattels to save or spend as we please, and that there is neither punishment nor reward after this life.

But there is a Final Judgment.  There is a Heaven.  And there is a Hell.  

Thanks to Marge Fenelon for publishing this prayer.  Pray to Mary, Untier of Knots, to intercede for those contemplating suicide.

The Cruise Ship of Peter

The modern world, which denies personal guilt and admits only social crimes, which has no place for personal repentance but only public reforms, has divorced Christ from His Cross; the Bridegroom and Bride have been pulled apart. What God hath joined together, men have torn asunder. As a result, to the left is the Cross; to the right is the Christ...The Western post-Christian civilization has picked up the Christ without His Cross. But a Christ without a sacrifice that reconciles the world to God is a cheap, feminized, colorless, itinerant preacher who deserves to be popular for His great Sermon on the Mount, but also merits unpopularity for what He said about His Divinity on the one hand, and divorce, judgment, and hell on the other. This sentimental Christ is patched together with a thousand commonplaces....Without His Cross, He becomes nothing more than a sultry precursor of democracy or a humanitarian who taught brotherhood without tears.  

Ven. Fulton J. Sheen, Life of Christ

This weekend, I had the joy of attending Low Mass in the Dominican Rite, for the feast of St. Vincent de Paul; then a Novus Ordo Vigil Mass for Sunday celebrated ad orientem.  But it all had to be paid for this morning, when I found myself at a Mass with muzak-like campfire ditties played on piano and bass guitar and bongos and cymbals and tinkly chimes; girl altar servers with loose hair and flip-flops; people encouraged to socialize with each other instead of getting recollected for Mass; a priest improvising Mass parts; the canon gone through hastily and almost carelessly; and applause at the end for Murph and the Magictones, followed by raucous yakking inside the church.

Such is the Cruise Ship of Peter, the favorite fantasy of so many Catholics, even in the hierarchy.

Unlike the Barque of Peter, constantly under assault and in danger of sinking, yet manfully plowing forward through rough seas, the Cruise Ship of Peter is nice.  Its worship is uncontroversial.  It is bland.  It is insipid.  It is jejune.  It is decadent.  It is effeminate.  It kindles no fires, stirs no ardor, pricks no consciences.  Its lifeblood is mediocrity.  It docks at any old port, and will strike any old compromise to do so.  It insulates man from the uncomfortable mystery of the supernatural, and protects him from transports of zeal.  There is little enough to distinguish it from any other organization calling itself a church, or even from secular society: its very furnishings are precisely those of a posh country club.  That is why it always has smooth sailing, at least for as long as this serves the purposes of the prince of this world.  Even when sailing is not smooth, the ship is so grand and luxurious that nobody on board notices.  One leaves the liturgy on the cruise ship feeling as though one has just been to a really nice wine and cheese reception.  With its affluence and its amphitheater layout and its cushioned pews and its polished wood and its orchestra pit next to the sanctuary and its soothing, tranquilizing liturgy, the Cruise Ship of Peter is all ordered, down to the smallest detail, with a view to sealing up Catholics in a soft, warm cocoon of niceness and upper-class comfort, making them forget, or even filling them with friendly feelings toward, the pirates and cutthroats that smile back from their little boats that nevertheless daily increase and close in.

All are welcome aboard the Cruise Ship of Peter -- they even have a song about it that they sing at the beginning of Mass! -- all, that is, except anyone who might rock the boat.  What might the Cruise Ship do, one is tempted to wonder, with a Francis of Assisi, or a Dominic de Guzman, or a Catherine of Siena, or an Alphonsus Liguori, or a Fulton Sheen?  Would they have to walk the plank?  How much has the Cruise Ship liturgy to do with immemorial tradition?  Does it inspire missionaries and fortify martyrs?  Does it remotely resemble the Masses of Aquinas, wrapped in awe; or those of the Recusants in Elizabethan England, where it was death to be a priest; or of Father Willie Doyle on makeshift altars in the muddy trenches of the First World War; or of the Cristeros in their secret refuges from the Masonic Mexican regime; or of the first and only Mass celebrated by Bl. Karl Leisner, secretly ordained in Dachau on Gaudete Sunday, 1944, desperately ill yet on fire for souls?  Can one picture Father Augustine Tolton on board, his soul blazing like a beacon from the crumbling lighthouse of his overworked body, his trembling hands raised amid the mellow strains of "On Eagle's Wings"?

Is it worth it to try to trade the Barque of Peter in for this new luxury model?  Does the Cruise Ship of Peter connect Catholics to their illustrious past?  Does it prepare Catholics to meet their adversaries in battle in these increasingly stern times?  Is it counter-cultural?  Does it provide Catholics with a distinctive identity apart from the secular society?  Does it actively promote unity, rather than Balkanization, of Catholics of differing ethnic and linguistic backgrounds?  Does it make Catholics know that we are not of the world, though we are in it?

Or does it merely fatten and soften up the sheep for the slaughter?

You decide.

An Open Letter to the Bishops of the United States

Dear Bishops, Archbishops and Eminences of the Church in the United States:

In 2007, Barack Hussein Obama was elected President.  It was his explicitly stated goal to fundamentally transform this country.  This he has certainly done.  He has nationalized entire industries; increased the national debt to hopelessly out-of-control levels; turned the national security apparatus and the taxing authorities against his political opponents; promoted radical Islam at home and abroad; eviscerated our military;  attacked our right to keep and bear arms; crammed abortion, contraceptives and active homosexuality down our throats; published countless new regulations and executive orders; wrecked our system of checks and balances; sought to destroy our sovereignty via open borders; and made our beloved United States the laughing stock of the world.  Above all, he has declared war on the Catholic Church, and therefore on God.

We know that Obama is especially targeting the Catholic Church because of the HHS contraceptive mandate.  There are other religious groups that also oppose contraceptives, but it is the Catholic Church that is pre-eminently known and despised and laughed at, from without and from within, for having consistently and unswervingly refused to join the many other religions that have caved on contraceptives.  We know that Obama is targeting the Catholic Church because he aggressively promotes abortion, active homosexuality and socialism, all of which the Catholic Church condemns.  We know that Obama is targeting the Catholic Church because of his brutal campaign to deprive her of her rights and rid the public square of her influence.

But what makes it most certain that Obama is targeting the Catholic Church is his army of unfaithful Catholic footsoldiers, many of whom were obviously quite deliberately recruited by him in order to weaken Catholic resolve.  These politicians and bureaucrats quite openly and notoriously join Obama in his opposition to Catholic teaching, to the great scandal of the faithful.  Many more Catholic public figures at various state and local levels who are not directly connected to Obama nevertheless add to the scandal by publicly supporting his agenda.

But what is even more scandalous than all this is the silence of so many bishops in the face of this insouciance.  A few bishops take up their rods and staffs and publicly declare that Catholic politicians who openly support intrinsic evils will not be admitted to Holy Communion.  Most, however, remain silent.  Some allow themselves to be photographed in the act of hobnobbing with openly declared enemies of the Church.  Others go so far as to declare they will not enforce canon law against public sinners, on the grounds that this purportedly makes a political football out of the Eucharist.

Perhaps we should be thankful that some of our shepherds are more enlightened than, say, the authors of Canon 915, and are thus in a position to make up for the deficiencies of the Church's lawmakers.  On the other hand, perhaps the whole idea of refusing to inflict punishments in pursuit of "the law of love, rather than the law of fear" needs to be re-examined in light of the chastisements we are already suffering on its account.

Dear Shepherds, I can tell these erring Catholic public figures how wrong they are until I'm blue in the face; but they will not listen to me, and aren't about to listen to me.  You, on the other hand, have teeth.  Only you can force them to a decision: whether they love God more, or their ideologies and all that goes with them.  Only you can force them to choose: whether to go on being able to receive the Sacraments, or to persist in their obstinacy.  Only you can face them with the stark consequences of their bad choices.  

Perhaps, if you do that, they will repent.  Is not the point of punishment to make sinners see the error of their ways and repent?  But as long as you allow them to go on pretending to be Catholics in good standing, all while waging war on the Church, they will see no reason to repent.  When you do not take action, the whole Body of Christ suffers.  How much bad legislation could have been averted, if you had acted to move someone to repent?  How many disastrous Supreme Court decisions might never have been written, had you taken steps to correct your erring sheep?  And we must all live with the effects.  By not punishing the guilty, you punish the innocent; and then, how are you to escape your own punishment?

Dear Bishops, time is running out.  Events are moving very rapidly.  Every day brings fresh disasters; the blows rain down on us with ever-increasing ferocity.  There is little left now of the America we grew up in, and of the freedoms we pray every Sunday for our politicians to safeguard.  You, dear Bishops, also bear a responsibility for safeguarding our freedom.  It is time, and past time, to drive the wolves out of the fold, and to preach repentance and conversion, without which we will never get our country back. 

And when the United States is gone beyond recall, where will we go then to find religious freedom?

As ever, your obedient servant.

Charity Runs Cold

Fifteen years ago, Sylvia Moore (no relation to your humble correspondent) bought an old, historic apartment building in Jerome, Idaho as an investment property and a source of income for retirement.  She had an antique store in the building, and also lived there.  

On April 30, a tenant left a hot glue gun on a plastic chair and forgot about it.  This started a fire that destroyed the building, displaced 12 families, and sent Sylvia Moore's retirement income up in smoke.  It was the biggest fire in the history of Jerome.

And would lead to a huge financial hit for Sylvia Moore, over and above the loss of her property.  She not only lost everything; the other day, the city of Jerome billed her for the cost of putting out the fire, to the tune of almost $100,000.00.  Due June 21st.  "The city of Jerome taxpayers put forth a lot of the efforts to extinguish this fire," says Jerome Fire Chief Jack Krill, "and we want to try and recover that taxpayer money the best we can."

Well, presumably, Sylvia Moore is also a taxpayer, and has contributed at least her fair share over the fifteen years she owned the now-destroyed apartment building.  One had thought the idea of a city running a fire department paid for by taxpayer dollars was precisely as a sort of risk pool, so that firefighting services would be available to all members of the community at need, and with no one member bearing the crushing expense of such a service entirely on his own, on top of his other losses.

Of course, in an age when a woman who has lost everything and who has not been accused of wrongdoing gets a $100,000.00 bill for firefighting services, maybe I am using that word "community" a little loosely.  When did ruthlessness become the default setting in our relations with our neighbors?   Has kicking people when they're down always been an American tradition?  Of course it would be nice for the taxpayers to be able to recoup their costs, but would that be right if it requires the taxpayers to harden their hearts against an innocent property owner, and bring about her utter ruination?  Would it be right, in a word, if it requires a further tearing of the already shredded fabric of brotherliness and neighborliness and community?  Is this in line with the Christian principles upon which this nation was founded?

Charity runs ever colder in our society, and once again, we see that this is brought about at least as much by those of us who flatter ourselves as being upright, responsible, and virtuous as by the flagrantly irresponsible, lazy and dissolute.

UPDATE: The city attorney for the city of Jerome has called Sylvia Moore and told her she should not have been billed for firefighting services.  The story describes city officials as having said the bill was a "mistake."  It is not clear that that is the exact term city officials used, but it is certainly a curious description for (a) a three-page itemized statement that someone had to have spent a lot of time putting together, that (b) was quite deliberately and publicly rationalized by the city fire chief to the media.  At any rate, it appears the bill is off.  Sylvia Moore is awaiting written confirmation.

SECOND UPDATE: It seems the city did not call the bill a "mistake."  They called it an "error."  Right down to the $347.00 for food, the $57.00 for erosion damage repair, and the $700.00 for the busted fire nozzle.

Thou Art a Priest Forever

Fr. Scott Carroll, probably as a seminarian.  Source.

The Holy Mass and the Sacrifice of Calvary are one and the same.  At Mass, we are really at the foot of the Cross.  What the priest does at Mass is really done by Christ; and what Christ does is also really done by the priest.  Christ offers Himself; the priest offers himself.  The priest and the victim are one.  This identity of the priest and victim is shown in the traditional Mass, where each article of the priest's vestments is a symbol of the Passion, and the chalice is also clothed in vestments to match those of the priest.  The priesthood is about self-sacrifice.

Sometimes God is pleased physically to accept this sacrifice.

Deacon Scott Carroll, aged 45, was a seminarian for the Diocese of Toledo and was to have been ordained to the priesthood on June 22nd.  But the deacon had been battling cancer for some time, and during the week of May 6th, it became clear that the disease had taken a grave turn.  Confronted with these circumstances, Bishop Leonard Blair rose to the occasion.  To fulfill the desire of this son of his, and to ensure that he would not die without the indelible character of Holy Orders on his soul, Bishop Blair ordained Scott Carroll to the priesthood at his parents' home on Wednesday, May 8th, and assigned him as associate pastor of his home parish of St. Joseph in Maumee, Ohio.  

Now Father Carroll, failing in body, could unite his sufferings to Christ's on the cross in a new and greater way.  On Friday, May 10th, the new priest, alter Christus, offered Mass -- Christ offering Himself, Father Carroll offering himself.  He fell asleep after it was over, and opened his eyes on eternity.

How great is the goodness of God, to implant in this man the desire to be His priest; to sustain him in his sufferings; to bring him through cancer to the end of his priestly studies -- and then, in the last hours of his life, to lavish him with graces to strengthen him at the moment of death and increase his glory in heaven!  If He wills, God can give us everything in an instant.  Nor should we be surprised if it should turn out that Father Carroll was a man of constant and fervent prayer.  That his last acts on earth should be the reception of Holy Orders and the offering of Holy Mass was surely a reward for perseverance in prayer not only for himself but also for the consolation of his family and friends, who were privileged to be shown such evident proofs of God's love and mercy.

We should pray for the family and friends of Father Carroll, newly bereaved, and also for his soul, in case he still has some Purgatory time to serve -- it is a very bad habit we have fallen into of instantly canonizing the dear departed, and leaving them without the assistance of our intercession.  

Yet it seems more likely that it is Father Carroll, a priest forever in the order of Melchizedek, who is busy doing from heaven the work he intended to do on earth, interceding for his family and friends, and for us.

Source.

Four Conversions

Raising of Lazarus, 15th century Russian icon.  The raising of Lazarus, dead four days, stinking and bound up in burial bands, symbolizes the raising of a soul dead in sin to the life of grace.

"...I will have mercy on whom I will, and I will be merciful to whom it shall please me."  Exodus 33:19

Some miracles of mercy that have not quite passed out of living memory:

For Mary's Inheritance, A Parricide and a Blasphemer

On December 19, 1942, 19-year-old Claude Newman of Bovina, Mississippi lay in wait for his grandmother's estranged, abusive husband, Sid Cook at Cook's home.  When Cook entered, Claude shot him to death, took his money and fled.  He was eventually caught, tried and convicted, and sentenced to die in Mississippi's electric chair.  

One night, while awaiting execution, Claude noticed what he thought was a trinket hanging around the neck of another prisoner in his cell block.  When Claude asked him what it was, the other prisoner became angry and embarrassed and threw it on the ground at Claude's feet.  Claude picked it up and looked it over.  It was a Miraculous Medal.  Unable to read or write, and almost totally ignorant about the Christian faith, he did not understand what the medal was or know whose image it bore.  Nevertheless, he felt attracted by it, and decided to put it on.   

It would not be long before Claude's ignorance would begin to be cured.  He was startled out of his sleep by a touch on his wrist, and saw a woman of surpassing beauty standing there.  He was frightened and confused, but she said to him: "If you would like me to be your Mother, and you would like to be my child, send for a priest of the Catholic Church."  Then she vanished, and Claude screamed for a Catholic priest.

The next morning, Fr. Robert O'Leary was called to visit Claude.  Claude told him his incredible story, and then, along with the four other men in his cell block, asked for instruction in the Catholic faith.  The other prisoners helped Claude with his studies, because he was illiterate; his story attracted some religious sisters to the jail, and led to religious instruction for more prisoners.  Soon it became clear that among Claude's instructors in the Faith was Our Lady herself, who continued to visit him and teach him, in advance of his catechism lessons, doctrines that he could not have learned on his own.  Fr. O'Leary became convinced that Our Lady was indeed visiting Claude when she reminded him, through Claude, of a secret vow he had made to her while he was lying in a ditch in Holland in 1940, and which she was still waiting for him to keep.  

One particular prisoner at the jail was not among those who joined Claude in taking religious instructions.  His name was James Hughs, and he was also a convicted murderer awaiting execution.  "This man was the filthiest, most immoral person I had ever come across," said Fr. O'Leary.  "His hatred for God and for everything spiritual defied description."  He had been brought up Catholic, but now absolutely refused the ministrations of a priest.  And he hated Claude with a fierce intensity.  But God had not yet given up on James Hughs.

Finally, the catechism lessons were complete, and Claude Newman received the Sacrament of Baptism on January 16, 1944.  He was scheduled to be executed at five minutes past midnight on January 20, 1944.  Fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to die, he was granted a two-week reprieve by the governor.  Claude was completely heartbroken.  "What have I done wrong these past weeks," he cried, "that God would refuse me my going home?"  Fr. O'Leary suggested to Claude that he offer up every moment of his separation from his heavenly Mother for the conversion of James Hughs.  Claude agreed to this and made the offering with the priest's assistance.  

Claude's separation from his heavenly Mother finally ended on February 4, 1944, when Mississippi's executioner sent a fatal current of electricity through his body.  To the wonder of those present, he had gone to his death like a bridegroom to his wedding, and took his seat on the electric chair as though it were a throne of gladness.

This scene of rejoicing seemed unlikely to be repeated when, three months later, James Hughs was scheduled to meet his end.  He persisted in his hatred of God up until the date set for his execution, and could not be persuaded to so much as kneel down and say an Our Father.  Fr. O'Leary was present at this execution as he had been at Claude Newman's, since state law required a clergyman to witness executions; but he had hidden himself from sight, because Hughs had threatened to blaspheme God if he caught sight of a clergyman.  When he was strapped into the chair and asked if he had any last words, Hughs began to blaspheme anyway.  Then suddenly, he stopped.  He fixed his gaze on a corner of the room, his face the picture of horror, and screamed in terror.  He begged for a priest.  Fr. O'Leary emerged from his hiding place, the room was cleared, and Hughs made his last confession.

When the witnesses were readmitted into the execution chamber, the sheriff asked Hughs what had made him change his mind about seeing a priest.  Hughs said that Claude, the black man whom he had hated so much, was, at that moment, standing over in the corner with the Blessed Mother standing behind him, a hand on each of his shoulders.  "And Claude said to me, 'I offered my death in union with Christ on the Cross for your salvation. She has obtained for you this gift of seeing your place in Hell if you do not repent.' I have been shown my place in Hell, and that's why I screamed."  Hughs then went peacefully to his execution, freed from sin and fortified by the Last Sacraments.

Out of the Blue: Public Enemy No. 1

"Dutch" Schultz, notorious mobster, bootlegger, extortionist and racketeer, was born Arthur Flegenheim in 1901 to German Jewish immigrants.  His mother tried to raise him up in the Jewish faith, but before the age of 20 he was already seriously involved in organized crime.  During the Prohibition era, he made a fortune from the sale and distribution of illegal liquor; after prohibition, he continued to prosper in the numbers racket and extortion.  

The Dutchman was known for his brutality and his ruthlessness; nor was he above turning his own hand to murder.  On one occasion, at a meeting with another gangster and with his lawyer, who was then defending him on tax evasion charges, Schultz accused the other gangster of skimming $70,000 off their extortion racket.  An alcohol-fueled argument ensued, during which the other man admitted to skimming $20,000, to which he considered himself entitled.  Schultz pulled out his pistol, stuck it in the man's mouth, and pulled the trigger.  "It was as simple and undramatic as that," said the lawyer, Dixie Davis -- "just one quick motion of the hand. Dutch Schultz did that murder just as casually as if he were picking his teeth."  Schultz then apologized to the lawyer for having killed someone in front of him.

Dutch Schultz finally went too far even for the other mobsters when he tried to order the assassination of Thomas Dewey, the U.S. Attorney who was prosecuting him for tax evasion.  He had gone to the Mafia Commission for permission to take out Dewey, who was hurting his criminal enterprises; but, fearing the law enforcement backlash that would result from such a hit, the Commission turned him down.  When Schultz failed to accept this decision gracefully, the Commission put out a contract on him in order to prevent a hit on Dewey.  

And so it was that on October 23, 1935, the Dutchman, along with three other mobsters, was gunned down at the Palace Chop House in Newark, New Jersey.  Schultz did not die immediately, but dragged himself back to his table and asked for an ambulance.  He was transported to the hospital and underwent emergency surgery.  

Schultz is said to have previously investigated the claims of the Catholic faith during one of his tax evasion trials.  He is said to have decided to convert, motivated by the belief that Jesus Christ had kept him out of prison, and also by a desire to ingratiate himself to Italian mobster Charles "Lucky" Luciano.  Whatever the case may have been, Schultz, who only hours earlier had been engaged in planning crimes -- perhaps even the murder of a U.S. Attorney -- summoned a Catholic priest, apparently out of the blue, and expressed his desire to die a Catholic.  He received the Sacrament of Baptism and the last rites from Fr. Cornelius McInerney and died in the bosom of the Church on the evening of October 24, 1935 at the age of 34.  He is buried at Gate of Heaven Catholic cemetery in Hawthorne, New York.

The Commandant of Auschwitz

Without a doubt, this is the most offensive of all these conversion stories, from a human point of view.  Human pusillanimity tempts us to think that here, God's Mercy clashes with His Justice.  All of these stories are about men who were destroyers of life; but this story is about a destroyer of peoples, a man with the blood of millions on his conscience, who murdered on an industrial scale.  And it begins with the kindness of jailers and the ringing of monastery bells.

Rudolf Höss was born in 1900 in Baden-Baden to parents who gave him a strict -- perhaps even straitjacketed -- Catholic upbringing.  When he was a teenager, he became convinced that his priest had violated the Sacramental seal by repeating to his father something he had accused himself of in confession; he soon stopped going to confession altogether and ultimately fell away from the Faith.  After serving with distinction in World War I, he became involved in political extremism and found his way into the Nazi party in 1922.  He joined the ranks of the SS at the invitation of Heinrich Himmler and was assigned, first to Dachau, then to Sachsenhausen, and finally was appointed commandant at Auschwitz in April of 1940.  There he lived in a villa with his wife and children and presided over the implementation of the Final Solution, of which Auschwitz was chosen as the locus.  Through study and experimentation, and sustained by his fanatical devotion to the Nazi ideology, Höss turned his camp into a powerhouse of genocide, dealing out death at the rate of thousands of human beings per hour.  By the time he was replaced as commandant in December of 1943, he had presided over the deaths of about 3 million people.  Between May and July of 1944, Höss returned to the camp and added to this grim total by supervising the liquidation of nearly half a million Hungarian Jews.

Höss evaded capture for nearly a year after Germany's defeat, until he was finally taken by British troops.  He testified at the Nuremberg trials, and was turned over to the Polish government to be tried by its Supreme National Tribunal.  On April 2, 1947, he was found guilty and sentenced to death.  He waived his right to appeal for clemency.

While in the custody of the Poles, Höss had been treated with kindness and decency, expressions of living faith that filled him with deep shame.  Then, while he waited in solitary confinement for the carrying out of his sentence, the finger of God on Höss' forehead: the sound of bells ringing from the local Carmelite monastery.  There is power in the ringing of bells, blessed and baptized and consecrated to the service of Catholic worship; it is no wonder the world in our day has declared war on church bells.  How hell is despoiled by the ringing of Church bells.  Rudolf Höss, the Monster of Auschwitz, the Commandant of Death, guilty of the blood of millions, awaiting his own death, heard Church bells, and called for a Catholic priest.

At first Höss' request was not heeded, so he repeated it in writing.  A priest was finally found who could speak German: Fr. Wladislaw Lohn, S.J., the Jesuit Provincial of Cracow.  Twenty-seven of his priests had suffered in Auschwitz; twelve had died.  Fr. Lohn is said to have approached the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy at the very convent in which St. Faustina lived to ask them for their prayers before undertaking his delicate and difficult mission to the great tormentor of Poland and of his own Jesuit brethren.  

Fr. Lohn met with Rudolf Höss on April 10, 1947 and spent several hours with him.  At the end of this lengthy interview, Höss repented of his apostasy, made a formal profession of faith, made his confession and received absolution.  The next day, Fr. Lohn returned and gave Höss Holy Communion, which he received on his knees, weeping.  On April 12th, Höss sent the following statement to the state prosecutor:

My conscience compels me to make the following declaration. In the solitude of my prison cell I have come to the bitter recognition that I have sinned gravely against humanity. As Commandant of Auschwitz I was responsible for carrying out part of the cruel plans of the 'Third Reich' for human destruction. In so doing I have inflicted terrible wounds on humanity. I caused unspeakable suffering for the Polish people in particular. I am to pay for this with my life. May the Lord God forgive one day what I have done.

On April 16, 1947, Rudolf Höss was taken to Auschwitz and hanged by the neck from a gallows specially erected there for the purpose.  He died for his unspeakable crimes, having been first snatched from the jaws of hell, all because of the kindness of his jailers and the ringing of church bells.  

How great and unfathomable are the mercies of God.

Why Must We Suffer?

The Boston Marathon bombing and the horrific West, Texas fertilizer plant explosion are the latest in a series of calamities, both natural and man-made, that have stricken this nation in recent months.  And the disasters fall on the good and the bad, the wicked and the innocent, men, women and children, without respect to age, race, class or creed.  In an instant, and without warning, people die, or are bereft of limbs, or lose everything they own.  Why does this happen to good people?  How are we to make any sense of this?  

We need to take seriously the catastrophes that are falling on this country in ever greater numbers.  A solid young priest gives us food for though on this, and some direction on how to cope with it.  It is worth the half-hour it takes to listen.

The Purpose of Suffering

Go to Confession!

What Jesus promised to those who go to confession and receive Holy Communion on (or near) Divine Mercy Sunday:

Our Lord Jesus said, "The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment. On that day all the divine floodgates through which graces flow are opened. Let no soul fear to draw near to Me, even though its sins be as scarlet...Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the Fount of My Mercy."  [Saint Faustina, Diary, 699.]

The world, and especially what now passes for Christian civilization, is swirling down the toilet.  Less than a quarter century after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the West is reduced to decadence and confusion, and our enemies are openly threatening us with physical annihilation. Are we, as individuals, innocent in all this?  How can we have peace and order if we not only do not live in the state of grace but do not care whether we are in it or not?  "There can be freedom without justice," said Ven. Fulton Sheen, "and that is the basic reason why there is war today; men wanting to be free from discipline, and particularly from dependence on the Justice of God."

Don't miss tomorrow's opportunity, and especially don't miss your chance to go to confession.

A priest commented to me today that now is the time of mercy, but Jesus made clear to St. Faustina that this time is limited; indeed, it is running short.  Don't waste it.  We have no idea how much is left.  The one thing we will clamor for when disaster overtakes us is time.  We will not get it.

The Church of Nice

The other night, I sat down and watched The Robe all the way through for the first time in my adult life. The product of a now-long-gone era when Hollywood respected the sensibilities of its audiences, The Robe has some fairly compelling scenes, and some pretty good features.  Richard Burton made a good swashbuckling Christian; Jean Simmons was demure and virtuous, yet noble and steely; Jay Robinson made an especially diabolical Caligula.  His oak-leaf chaplet was even arranged to make him look like he had horns.  

On the other hand, the story is clearly told from a non-Catholic point of view.  There are some things one would not expect to find in a story about the earliest Christians, and other things one would expect to find but does not.  For example:

-- Judas Iscariot delivers an inspirational message before going out to hang himself. 

-- Peter hides the fact that he denied Jesus, and allows everyone to think that he stuck with Jesus right to the end. 

-- Jesus is held to be present only in His Word and not in the Real Presence of the Eucharist.  In fact, it is not clear that Jesus is present among the early Christians at all, except as a memory.

-- There are no priests.

-- Nobody gets baptized or receives any Sacraments.

-- The Blessed Virgin Mary is virtually absent, and plays no role even at the foot of the Cross, where Scripture plainly places her.

-- And an item that I felt especially sensitive to because it was during the interregnum: the early Christians depicted in this movie do not respect the primacy of Peter. 

Without the Sacraments, and the Mother of God, and the Holy Father, the Church is a cold, sterile, one-dimensional thing.  It is just a collection of people being nice to each other for no apparent reason.  What we see in The Robe is the beginning, not of the Universal Church, but the church of nice.  There is no roaring furnace of charity at the heart of mere niceness: nothing to inspire missionaries, or artists, or musicians, or poets, or martyrs.  There are no miracles in the church of nice, and no great saints.  The church of nice, having no priests, offers no sacrifices, not even the Sacrifice of Calvary.   In the church of nice, Peter has no real authority, nor any integrity, since it is permissible for him to allow the propagation of a falsehood about himself for the good of the church.  The members of the church of nice will not worship Caesar as a god; but since Peter has no real authority, and the Mother of God does not illuminate the truth about her Divine Son, and there are no Sacraments to stoke the fires of sanctifying grace, there is nothing to prevent the worship of Caesar in the fullness of time, once it is judged expedient.  The two main characters of The Robe do end up as martyrs; but if one's knowledge of Christianity came solely and entirely from the information conveyed in the film, one would be hard pressed to understand why they should have given up their lives for it.

The Robe is far superior to the standard run of Hollywood fare today, 99.99% of which is just pure trash.  But it shows the Christian faith through a lens, darkly and incompletely, and therefore inaccurately.  The Pope, the Sacraments (and therefore the priesthood) and the Holy Mother of God are precisely the things the world has against the Catholic Church; but her Founder made them necessary elements of the Christian faith, without which it has neither depth nor breadth nor height.  It is necessary to bring a lot to the film in order to fill in the gaps, and not accept the errors.  One more reason why Catholics need to know their faith.

The World Does Not Understand Humility

Fr. Zuhlsdorf expresses beautifully and concisely what I have been struggling to put into words on the subject of humility, which the world does not understand:

I Am Thinking about those Red Shoes.

Fr. Blake beautifully addresses false humility, and the special dangers it poses for clergy:

I Used to Wash the Feet of the Poor

Aquinas also sheds some light on humility in the Summa Theologica.  A little taste:

Humility restrains the appetite from aiming at great things against right reason: while magnanimity urges the mind to great things in accord with right reason.

Humility ceases to be humility when it causes us to look with satisfaction upon ourselves, or to seek notice and praise from others.

Pope Francis, whom the liberals appear to misunderstand as grossly as they do Bl. John XXIII, has been jettisoning the trappings of the papacy during the first days of his reign.  The liberals are jumping up and down for joy over it, believing that it heralds a new Age of Aquarius without the medieval Benedictine trappings, and that finally, we have a Pope centered on humility.  I don't know Pope Francis' reasons for doing what he is doing; nor am I out to explore his motivations, or impute any particular motivations to him.  Rather, the point here is that neither the world, nor those who think with the mind of the world, get what humility is all about.

The world is constantly being taken in by hucksters because it equates humility with a no-frills lifestyle.  This, without more, can't be humility.  Gandhi, with his loincloth and his round spectacles, is held up in the world as a model of humility, yet it was said to have cost a fortune to keep him living in poverty.  False asceticism is an old trick to lend credibility to lies, worked to great effect by enemies of the Church from the Albigensians to the Communists.  Then there are the proud poor who lead a no-frills lifestyle only because they lack the resources for screaming opulence.  

On the other hand, there are those who live in opulence who (a) would give it up in a heartbeat, if they were not prevented by the duties of their position or state in life, and (b) are perfectly willing to be misjudged and take all kinds of grief for not giving it up.  Such is Pope Emeritus Benedict.  Consider the absolute nonsense he put up with during his eight years as Pope: the carping about "triumphalism" and "trying to turn the clock back"; the whining about the old vestments and regalia that he took out of mothballs; the incessant braying about his beautification of the liturgy; the idiotic stories about Prada attire.  Here was a man who had wanted nothing more than to retire to a quite life of study and prayer, but who suddenly found himself thrust onto the Throne of Peter.  Being a man of duty, he conformed himself to his new situation and uncomplainingly accepted all that went with it without taking any notice of the criticism.  He was willing to ignore what others thought of him, and to be misunderstood, in order to reconnect us with the sacred things of our past, and to lift our minds and our hearts out of mediocrity.  In the end, Benedict gave up all his purported luxury and wealth, of his own accord, and without looking back.

We should study and reflect true humility, and genuine exemplars of it, lest, like the world, we be taken in by hucksters.