catholicism – Mum's devotional

‘…to all men of good will’

January 1st – 7th day of Christmas

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Galatians 5:13-14 (NIV)

It is always perfectly justifiable to distinguish between error as such and the person who falls into error—even in the case of men who err regarding the truth or are led astray as a result of their inadequate knowledge, in matters either of religion or of the highest ethical standards. A man who has fallen into error does not cease to be a man. …Besides, there exists in man’s very nature an undying capacity to break through the barriers of error and seek the road to truth. God, in His great providence, is ever present with His aid. Today, maybe, a man lacks faith and turns aside into error; tomorrow, perhaps, illumined by God’s light, he may indeed embrace the truth.

…Let us, then, pray with all fervor for this peace which our divine Redeemer came to bring us. May He banish from the souls of men whatever might endanger peace. May He transform all men into witnesses of truth, justice and brotherly love. May He illumine with His light the minds of rulers, so that, besides caring for the proper material welfare of their peoples, they may also guarantee them the fairest gift of peace.

Finally, may Christ inflame the desires of all men to break through the barriers which divide them, to strengthen the bonds of mutual love, to learn to understand one another, and to pardon those who have done them wrong. Through His power and inspiration may all peoples welcome each other to their hearts as brothers, and may the peace they long for ever flower and ever reign among them.

from Pope John XXIII’s encyclical Pacem in Terris

More popes today, because it’s apparently World Peace Day (for Catholics at least), and the theme of politically explosive encyclicals amuses me. (Pacem in Terris, was addressed to ‘all men of good will’ in addition to members of the Catholic Church.) Also, for those of us that get all the popes mixed up: Pope John XXIII was the one responsible for the Second Vatican Council, which pissed a lot of people off for some reason. Pope John Paul II was the cool pope who skied. And no one cares about the two in between because they were boring (more or less).

…and I’m a terrible person, because all I could think of throughout writing this entire thing was Miss Congeniality.

I am wrapping this blog up, but I missed a post or two last(!) year, and I wanted to finish the twelve days of Christmas, mostly because I think they’re cute. I may start something new, but if I do, it will be elsewhere, because I put this on a blog for my own sanity, to have a self-contained indexed, tagged, shareable archive. But thank you anyway, all you weirdos who have actually read this thing, I’m sure you’re the nicest three people on the planet. I’m sure I could have gotten an extra three people to read it if I’d done anything in the way of promotion, but, see above. ☝

[Edit: I started on with the pope posts before whatshisface started issuing papal bulls about cell phones, but I refuse to go back and change things just so that I look original.]

Anyway, have a very happy New Year! Enjoy the new things, appreciate the old things, and thank God for both.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Better a poor and wise youth than an old and foolish king who will be admonished no more. For he comes out of prison to be king, although he was born poor in his kingdom.

Ecclesiastes 4:13-14 (NKJV)

It was among foreigners that it was seen how little I was. It was there that the Lord opened up my awareness of my lack of faith. Even though it came about late, I recognised my failings. So I turned with all my heart to the Lord my God, and he looked down on my lowliness and had mercy on my youthful ignorance. He guarded me before I knew him, and before I came to wisdom and could distinguish between good and evil. He protected me and consoled me as a father does for his son.

That is why I cannot be silent – nor would it be good to do so – about such great blessings and such a gift that the Lord so kindly bestowed in the land of my captivity. This is how we can repay such blessings, when our lives change and we come to know God, to praise and bear witness to his great wonders before every nation under heaven.

This is because there is no other God, nor will there ever be, nor was there ever, except God the Father. He is the one who was not begotten, the one without a beginning, the one from whom all beginnings come, the one who holds all things in being – this is our teaching. And his son, Jesus Christ, whom we testify has always been, since before the beginning of this age, with the father in a spiritual way. He was begotten in an indescribable way before every beginning. Everything we can see, and everything beyond our sight, was made through him. He became a human being; and, having overcome death, was welcomed to the heavens to the Father. The Father gave him all power over every being, both heavenly and earthly and beneath the earth. Let every tongue confess that Jesus Christ, in whom we believe and whom we await to come back to us in the near future, is Lord and God. He is judge of the living and of the dead; he rewards every person according to their deeds. He has generously poured on us the Holy Spirit, the gift and promise of immortality, who makes believers and those who listen to be children of God and co-heirs with Christ. This is the one we acknowledge and adore – one God in a trinity of the sacred name.

In the knowledge of this faith in the Trinity, and without letting the dangers prevent it, it is right to make known the gift of God and his eternal consolation. It is right to spread abroad the name of God faithfully and without fear, so that even after my death I may leave something of value to the many thousands of my brothers and sisters – the children whom I baptised in the Lord.

I didn’t deserve at all that the Lord would grant such great grace, after hardships and troubles, after captivity, and after so many years among that people. It was something which, when I was young, I never hoped for or even thought of…

from The Confession of St. Patrick

…and we all know how the rest of that story goes. Though we’re kind of mostly, entirely wrong.

Basically, there’s no reason to believe that there were any snakes in Ireland for St. Patrick to expel, and all the fantastical stories about him being a magical demigod/folk hero came around much later. (His PR guy, Muirchu, was recording those legends about two hundred years after he died.) The Confessio has none of that, and is actually quite astonishingly dull. Which is hard to do when you have a story with so many pirates in it. (Meh. It’s probably because of all the bible quotes he managed to sneak in there.)

Also, here’s a picture of my Orange Catholic Bible. Because I’m kind of a jerk; worse, the kind of scifi-reading jerk who thinks that’s actually funny.

Acedia: it’s always noon somewhere

February 2nd

Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.

Hebrews 12:12-13 (ESV)

At its Greek root, the word acedia means the absence of care.

I first encountered the word acedia in The Praktikos, a book by the fourth-century Christian monk Evagrius Ponticus. Across a distance of sixteen hundred years he spoke clearly of the inner devastation caused by the demon of acedia when it “[made] it seem that the sun barely moves, if at all, and that the day is fifty hours long.” Boredom tempts him “to look constantly out the windows, to walk outside the cell, to gaze carefully at the sun to determine [the lunch hour].” But Evagrius soon discovers that this seemingly innocuous activity has an alarming and ugly effect, for having stirred up a restlessness that he is unable to shake, the demon taunts him with the thought that his efforts at prayer and contemplation are futile. Life then looms like a prison sentence, day after day of nothingness.

As I read this I felt a weight lift from my soul, for I had just discovered an accurate description of something that had plagued me for years but that I had never been able to name. As any reader of fairy tales can tell you, not knowing the true name of your enemy, be it a troll, a demon, or an “issue,” puts you at a great disadvantage, and learning the name can help to set you free. “He’s describing half my life,” I thought to myself.

The person afflicted by acedia refuses to care or is incapable of doing so. When life becomes too challenging and engagement with others too demanding, acedia offers a kind of spiritual morphine: you know the pain is there, yet can’t rouse yourself to give a damn. Caring is not passive, but an assertion that no matter how strained and messy our relationships can be, it is worth something to be present, with others, doing our small part. Care is also required for the daily routines that acedia have us suppress or deny as meaningless repetition or too much bother.

The desert monks termed acedia “the noonday demon” because the temptation usually struck during the heat of the day, when the monk was hungry and fatigued, and susceptible to the suggestion that his commitment to a life of prayer was not worth the effort. Acedia has long been considered a peculiarly monastic affliction, and for good reason. It is risky business to train oneself (“training” being a root meaning of asceticism) to embrace a daily routine that mirrors eternity in its changelessness, deliberately removing distractions from one’s life in order to enter into a deeper relationship with God. Under these circumstances acedia’s assault is not merely an occupational hazard – it is a given.

Yet I have come to believe that acedia can strike anyone whose work requires self-motivation and solitude, anyone who remains married “for better or worse,” anyone who is determined to stay true to a commitment that is sorely tested in everyday life. When I complained to a Benedictine friend that for me, acedia was no longer a noontime demon but seemed like a twenty-four-hour proposition, he replied, “Well, we are speaking of cosmic time. And it is always noon somewhere.”

from Kathleen Norris’ Acedia and Me

Despite the New York Times roasting her for equating (or perhaps falsely distinguishing, Harrison’s not quite clear on why she’s so upset) acedia and clinical depression, I think Norris has something valuable to offer, even if it’s only a matter of her sharing her own experiences.

I also admit that I’ve not read the entire book (though I did read The Quotidian Mysteries and vaguely remember it being helpful, with the caveat that it’s bit literary), but for someone — deeply ‘low church’ like me, whose only exposure to the idea would have come from Huxley, it was sufficiently illuminating to post. It’s an interesting bit of church history to note that somehow the undesirable ‘eight thoughts’ turned into the ‘seven deadly sins’ (which are a theological powder keg that I’m so not going to address), and the whole concept of acedia got left moldering in the stacks somewhere. (There’s a glancing overview of the subject here.)