Dear Ink Desk Readers,
I thought you might like my videos for my Homeschool Connections courses. Here’s the whole playlist – https://www.youtube.com/
And be sure to sign your kids or grandkids up for Homeschool Connections!
Dear Ink Desk Readers,
I thought you might like my videos for my Homeschool Connections courses. Here’s the whole playlist – https://www.youtube.com/
And be sure to sign your kids or grandkids up for Homeschool Connections!
There’s a Life Magazine special issue out about Mary.
At the end of the main article, the writer laments, “If only we had a simply human Mary, that would be enough.”
My reaction: We do have a simply human Mary. No orthodox Christian has ever believed or taught that Mary is anything other than human. So that should be enough.
My wife’s reaction: For people, it’s never enough.
And that’s really it. That’s what it’s all about. We’re a mess. Insatiable, unhappy, lost – in need of a Savior (though that’s not a politically correct thing to say).
You may choose to believe the Gospels or to think of them as mere myths, but what they present in perhaps the most telling and compelling way in all of literature is human nature in its truest form.
The Father’s call throughout the Old Testament, through the voice of his prophets, is “Repent! Stop doing evil, do good and turn to me. Otherwise you will face disaster.” That’s the message of the Son in the New Testament as well, but we don’t want to hear it.
We’d rather have the Buddy Jesus, the Jesus-as-Inner-Self, the Vague Jesus, the Jesus of our Own Desires, the Jesus we can make jump and entertain us.
We don’t want a Jesus whose first words are (as in the Gospel according to Mark): “Repent and believe!”
And the Gospels simply tell us what we do when we are given “enough”, when we are asked to repent and believe. What do we do when we are given all that we need? A loving God, a good man, a man who walks the earth healing and forgiving and asking us to do the same? What do we do?
We torture Him, mock Him and kill Him.
No work of literature before or since has ever shown so clearly the Resistance in our Hearts.
SCTV’s Bobby Bitman used to say, “As a comic, in all seriousness”. Perhaps I should say, “As an actor, in all sincerity …” because, of course, acting is the opposite of sincerity in the same way that comedy is the opposite of seriousness.
But that’s not really true. Good acting is authentic or sincere at a very basic level. Within the framework of the Secondary Reality or Sub-creation of the drama, good acting must be true. An actor is pretending, and he does not “become” the character in any real sense, except within the confines of the story. And, as any actor will tell you, the nuances of a character don’t fall into place until you “get it”, until you get in character, until you act the part from the inside-out. Until then, it’s very difficult in rehearsal to approach a character from the outside-in. Sometimes the outside trappings of a role – accents or posture or even costumes and make-up – will help an actor adopt that role, but what they help with is the “internalization” of the role. Real acting happens when you identify with the character. Once that happens, all of the character’s quirks and nuances make sense. An odd line or motivation or moment that frustrated you in rehearsal may fit into place and make complete sense once you “get in character” and find the key, the truth from which the character operates, the inner reality that makes all of the character’s actions a coherent whole.
Elsewhere I’ve written how this is an analogy for living the Christian Faith. But it’s really an analogy for more than just that.
Behind what we do is who we are. Behind our lines is our character. Behind the character is the actor who acts the part. But in many ways we lose sight of this.
Most people live on the level of appearances. The essence that the appearances signify, the hidden truth that motivates what we do, the reality behind the bluff, the truth behind the show – we are uncomfortable with this. We prefer the doxa, the conventional, the external, the outward to the inward. Even in our faith. Perhaps especially in our faith.
We are almost never reminded that Christ brings ontological change. The way from baptism to resurrection is a way of the cross, a death and rebirth. But we don’t want that. We’d rather fake it with bad hymns and all the trappings that help us keep our faith safely on the surface. We may not crucify Jesus, but we don’t go with Him when he says, “Come, follow me” because we are afraid of what we may find. We are afraid of the cross and the reality it brings. We’d prefer to be bad actors, phoning in our parts and cashing the check. And so the last thing we do is imitate Christ at the basic level of our every day existence. Anything but that. Anything but being honest when it’s not advantageous to be, being chaste even when every sex act on earth is a mouse click away, being conscientious when it’s easier to slack off.
And yet acting this role from the inside-out is the great drama of our lives.
Yesterday Rod Dreher posted an article on pornography on his site. He begins it with this …
Whenever I go to a Christian college to speak, I talk to professors, staffers, and campus ministers about what they’re seeing among the students. Two things always come up: 1) far too many of their students know next to nothing about the Christian faith, and 2) pornography is a massive problem.
At one Christian college I visited over the past few months, a professor said, “For the first time, I’m starting to see it becoming a problem for my female students, not just the male ones.” A campus minister who works with young undergraduates headed for professional ministry told me that every single one of the men he mentors has a porn addiction.
Every. Single. One.
He goes on to illustrate how porn has become a problem among elementary school students (including girls in the fourth grade), whose parents have been stupid enough to give them smart phones.
As distressing as this is, the problem is not just masturbation in front of a computer screen. The problem is that pornography and lust itself (not just sexual desire, but lust) objectifies other people. Men seem to be wired in such a way that we are more likely to see sex as an experience disconnected from love, marriage or babies – or from humanity, in a sense – than women are. This is why the gay male culture is so horrific when it comes to promiscuity and brutality.
But we are dealing with a technology that was unimaginable a generation ago. When I was a kid, pornography was hard to come by. Now it’s ubiquitous. All varieties of sexual activities are right there in your pocket and can be accessed within mere seconds, even for Christian men who try to avoid the temptation (and don’t fool yourself, the addiction is universal, including among devout Christian guys, or as Rod says, “Every. Single. One.”) It’s as if we’re all walking around with a handy supply of heroin that we can rely on for an intense high when we’re down or lonely, mad or tired, horny or simply bored.
And, again, it’s not the sin of the flesh that is so harmful. As serious sins go, sins of the flesh are the least harmful, as Christian culture has always recognized. What’s harmful is the spiritual side of this sin.
And the spiritual side of it comes down to this: ABUSE. We can’t just follow our lusts and be happy. The more we indulge them, the more we think of other people as mere tools and the more we feel contempt for them. I’ve experienced this attitude even in Devout Catholic young women, who have probably never viewed pornography, but who are nevertheless steeped in the throwaway culture, a culture that sees not only sex but intimacy and friendship and even basic social interaction as self-serving and cut off from a real encounter with the Other.
This is one of the things that makes Facebook so horrible. There’s a kind of endless posturing, making a show of your beliefs and ridiculing others in the process. My wife uses Facebook for sharing pictures and keeping up with her friends, but my Facebook friends engage in debates – except they’re not debates: they’re tirades or polemics or shouting matches, the object of which is to prove you are righteous and that you are justified in viewing the Other with contempt. Without that final dismissal of the value of the Other, there’s no payoff, no “money shot”. Polemic Facebook posts are posturing at best, “rage porn” at worst.
This is why technology is not neutral. And we are not neutral, either. We tend toward sin, and must be raised to goodness through grace and hard work. Given good environments, we can be edified and educated and cultivated toward virtue and happiness. Given bad environments, we will become abusive – to ourselves and to one another. We all have this potential. We can go either way.
Dreher and the people he quotes are right. Pornography and the entire attitude that accompanies it (including the Rage Porn of Facebook) is the most serious problem in our society today. And yet I have never heard a homiliy on it. Ever. The greatest spiritual threat in the world is simply ignored at the parish level.
The opposite of love is use. And mere use always become abuse. And we live in a culture of abuse.
Recently a friend of mine asked me what I thought of Fr. Richard Rohr, and I dismissed him with some sort of comment such as, “Oh, Rohr’s books are tea table twaddle.”
And, according to Dan Burke, there are, apparently, concerns about Rohr’s orthodoxy.
But, while researching something else on the internet, I came upon a link to Fr. Rohr’s book Immortal Diamond: The Search for our True Self. And I read, with a good deal of interest, an interview with Fr. Rohr (pasted below, with my comments in boldface), as well as perhaps the BEST AMAZON BOOK REVIEW EVER …
[What’s good about all of this is very good indeed. What’s bad about it is what’s left unsaid.]
So there you have it. Hope this was not too hard to folloe.
John Henry Newman on a problem he noticed roughly 200 years ago …
It is very much the fashion at present to regard the Saviour of the world in an irreverent and unreal way—as a mere idea or vision … [offering] vague statements about His love … [and] while the thought of Christ is but a creation of our minds, it may gradually be changed or fade away.
… so this is not a new problem.
Against this vagueness and blur, in opposition to the Unreality of Jesus the Nice Guy, Newman suggests something that most Catholics would consider novel. He says to know this Person Jesus, you could simply read the Gospels.
… when we contemplate Christ as manifested in the Gospels, the Christ who exists therein, external to our own imaginings, and who is as really a living being, and sojourned on earth as truly as any of us, then we shall at length believe in Him with a conviction, a confidence, and an entireness, which can no more be annihilated than the belief in our senses. It is impossible for a Christian mind to meditate on the Gospels, without feeling, beyond all manner of doubt, that He who is the subject of them is God; but it is very possible to speak in a vague way of His love towards us, and to use the name of Christ, yet not at all to realize that He is the Living Son of the Father, or to have any anchor for our faith within us, so as to be fortified against the risk of future defection.
I know this is difficult 19th century prose, but what he’s saying is simply that Christ had a particular character, and was not an amorphous blob, blurry and fuzzy: and His character was, rather disturbingly, Divine.
The theological implication of this fact is what I would call the particularity of the saints.
We are sanctified not as indistinguishable blurry “nice guys” but as very particular individuals with zest and with deliberate things we are and are not. Grace perfects nature, including the nature of our form, our limitations, our personalities.
Young people today seem to think that individuality is all about what music you like. Demographic marketing and the niche of your favorite band defines who you are, and so if you find someone who likes the same garage band as you, you’ve found (one would assume) a compatible friend. But, on the contrary, the mystery of who we are, and of what we are called to (our vocation) is much more personal and particular and even more biting and painful than the music we listen to.
It is like the stinging taste of salt. And this ringing and stringent flavor is something we are not to deny.
Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his. savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good. for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. (Mat. 5:13)
But when was the last time you went to a suburban Mass and had any sense that the particular – the particular anything – mattered?
I became an atheist at age 9. I became Catholic (of all things!) 30 years later. This, after hating Catholics most of my life and agreeing with all of my artistic and theatrical friends that the Catholic Church was ridiculous at best, contemptuous at worst.
But, even now 17 years after my reception into the Church, I remain adamant about one thing. If this is all a lie or a pleasant fiction, we should burn all the churches. If this is all a lie, it is the worst lie in history. If the Church is merely a human institution, then it will only get even more corrupt than it already is and it should be torn to pieces. If people believe because it feels good, to hell with people and to hell with belief – and to hell with needing a lie to feel good. You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth! But if we’re worthy of the name “men” or “women”, we can handle the truth – God or no God.
After all, Jesus Christ told us, “The truth will make you free”. That much even atheists would agree on. Or at least they should – if they were more than fad atheists playing party games with nihilism.
And I know, I know – it’s Easter and that whole rising from the dead thing is a bit much, but that’s not really what turns people off. (By the way, if Jesus did not rise from the dead – crazy as that sounds – then the whole thing is false. “If Christ be not raised, then is your faith in vain,” as St. Paul was honest enough to say, “and we are the most miserable of men”. – 1 Cor. 15:17 So don’t be a “Christian” because Christ was a nice guy; He was God and the proof of that was His resurrection; if you don’t believe that, well, that’s understandable, but then stay home on Sundays and don’t get a job as a fill-in pastor at a Presbyterian church … which is a story I’ll tell in my book.)
What turns people off, and what turned me off for all of my young life, was not the miracles or the resurrection or the weird Christian culture or the Bible. Far from it. The Gospels, in particular, always fascinated me, and I remain (I’m sorry to say) one of the few Catholics who regular reads Scripture (apparently).
What turned me off then and what turns me off now was Christians and what they did with their faith. As Groucho once said to Chico, “I want to join a club and beat you over the head with it.” That sums up a lot of what Christians do with “Christianity”.
Bl. John Henry Newman described what’s behind this attitude found in many Christians …
They forget that all men are at best but learners in the school of Divine Truth, and that they themselves ought to be ever learning … They find it a much more comfortable view, much more agreeable to the indolence of human nature, to give over seeking, and to believe they had nothing more to find.
This is the problem. And it’s endemic in the Catholic Church, at least. Eric Voegelin describes it this way …
Certainties, now, are in demand for the purpose of overcoming uncertainties with their accompaniment of anxiety … [and yet] … Uncertainty is the very essence of Christianity. … “Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” (Heb. 11:1)
The bond [of faith] is tenuous, indeed, and it may snap easily. The life of the soul in openness toward God, the waiting, the periods of aridity and dullness, guilt and despondency, contrition and repentance, forsakenness and hope against hope, the silent stirrings of love and grace, trembling on the verge of a certainty which if gained is loss—the very lightness of this fabric may prove too heavy a burden for men who lust for massively possessive experience.
I love that last line. We are “men who lust for massively possessive experience”! We all are.
JRR Tolkien describes this very lust and the disenchantment that accompanies it.
[The things that become disenchanted] are the things that we have appropriated, legally or mentally. We say we know them. They have become like the things which once attracted us by their glitter, or their colour, or their shape, and we laid hands on them, and then locked them in our hoard, acquired them, and acquiring ceased to look at them.
In other words, God becomes a mere tool for prideful man, for anxious man, for lazy man; a possession, a “thing” like other “things”.
This is why we need a savior. Because even the greatest gift we’ve been given – faith in a merciful and just God – is something we want to put in our pockets or “lock in our horde” and use for our own security, to allay our anxiety, or (what is worse) to use as a kind of weapon, a club we join and beat people over the head with.
Both believers and non-believers have this trait, this hard-heartedness, this possessiveness, this tendency not to be humble in the presence of the truths of God, but to appropriate and manipulate them. One of the most apparently devout young Catholics I knew used faith in God as a giant contraceptive against reality, keeping the Spirit out while maintaining the bubble of fiction that was her life, a bubble she made certain He never pierced. She lived a life devoted to Spiritual Contraception (and physical contraception, for that matter). The quasi-atheist quasi-Catholic friend I described here is not intent on approaching God (and hence the meaning of life) with humility and genuine curiosity, but instead is set on constructing clever arguments that Jesus would be too foolish to penetrate. And yet what is life but this reaching out in faith … this anxious trust that what we do in time matters eternally, that if we seek we find, that if we love we will somehow be loved back – and that even if we’re not, it’s the offering, the act, that matters?
One of my best friends is an agnostic, or at least won’t discuss matters of faith. But she gives her entire heart and soul and being into educating children – a job which she finds eternally significant, though she would never describe it in those terms. She knows, as we all do, that love outlasts time and death. In that sense, she knows the inner meaning of the Resurrection better than most “massively possessive” Christians do.
Another friend of mine is a non-Christian and is in desperate need of cheap health insurance. He looked into a Christian Health Share program, which would have saved him a lot of money, but refused to join it because they demand a profession of faith and he refused to lie in order to join the group. He refused to lie! He, a non-Christian, refused to claim to be a Christian, even though it would have benefited him to say so. And yet, one of my most discouraging battles on the internet over the years was with “devout” Catholics who kept insisting that lying could be a good thing – a holy and righteous thing! – despite settled Church teaching on the contrary.
We could all give examples like this, examples of people who reject “Christianity” and yet behave better than most Christians, who believe in the transcendent nature of love, sacrifice, morality.
This is why I believe. Because it’s true. I believe in the dogmas, but the dogmas are signposts, signposts to encourage us to keep seeking, to keep praying, to keep living “in openness toward God”; they are not walls in which to barricade ourselves and keep God and others out. We search because even through passion, death and darkness, even through the horror of Good Friday and the loneliness of Holy Saturday, even through moods of despair and absurdity, even through all of this, if we seek, we find – we find in the depths, we find in the tomb, we find in one another, the silent secret of new life.
Here’s a brief outline of Eric Voegelin’s lecture “In Search of the Ground”, with quotations.
I. THE GROUND (Greek: αἴτιον) is the source of our being and our particularity (THE GROUND is GOD, viewed as a philosophical concept and not as a Person.)
There the quest of the ground has been formulated in two principal questions of metaphysics. The first question is, “Why is there something; why not nothing?” And the second is, “Why is that something as it is, and not different?”
II. Man’s nature is to seek this Ground, which is also the Final Cause, the Purpose, through an open dialogue of questioning and answering, pulled by God. In fact, this is what Reason is.
In this questioning one keeps open one’s human condition and is not tempted to find cheap answers. … That is reason: openness toward the ground.
III. How do we go about being Open toward the Ground? Through a basic TENSION between our lives and the “transcendent” – a reaching out in this imperfect and muddled life for something greater which is Beyond. This TENSION is expressed by the words FAITH, HOPE and LOVE. It is not settling comfortably on a dogmatic answer, even if the dogma expresses a truth; it is a continued tensional questing toward God, for the Dogmas (though true) are signposts or objectified expressions of a truth that is not, itself, a “thing” to be comfortably conceptualized and mentally appropriated, but a form of being, a relationship marked by desire and an uncertainty on man’s part, overcome by trust. That is what Faith is – a reaching out in hope with love (Eros). Faith, Hope and Love are first grouped together hundreds of years before St. Paul.
Already Heraclitus knew three variants or nuances of the tension: love, hope, and faith.
IV. As the ear is for hearing and as the eye is for seeing, so the PSYCHE (soul) is for desiring God. We are built for this. In the same way we are built for seeing and hearing, so we are built for seeking God. And the Psyche is the “organ” that enables this.
V. This common goal of seeking God (the Ground) unites us in friendship and like-mindedness: homonoia.
… since every man participates in love of the transcendent Being and is aware of such a ground—Ground, Reason, or Nous—out of which he exists, every man can, by virtue of this noetic self, have love for other men. … “If I did not love other men because they also are an image of God, I would have no particular reason to love them because they are just horrible.” – Nietzsche
VI. But what happens to all of this in A WORLD WITHOUT GOD???
We still have of course, the quest of the ground; we want to know where things come from. But since God (in revelatory language) or transcendent divine Being (in philosophical language) is prohibited for agnostics, they must put their ground elsewhere. And now we can see, beginning about the middle of the eighteenth century, in the Enlightenment, a whole series of misplacements of the ground. The transcendent Ground is misplaced somewhere in an immanent hierarchy of being.
TRANSLATION: God and the Purpose of Life is no longer seen as being something that is Beyond us, but as something that we can make and manipulate in the here and now. Voegelin calls this IDEOLOGY. I call it UNREALITY. If the Open Existence is a life lived seeking the Divine Ground of our Being, the Closed Existence is shutting ourselves off to the Ground: it is Spiritual Contraception (found among some Devout Catholics, I would say, as among all agnostics). And this Closed Existence takes the form of IDEOLOGIES that assert the Final Cause (the Ground, the Purpose of life) as anything but transcendent; it is not beyond our reach: power is God, money is God, sex is God, tolerance is God, gender fluidity is God, etc.
VII. Aspects of Ideology …
1. IDEOLOGIES (worlds without God) are APOCALYPTIC. They believe a better world will follow this one.
2. IDEOLOGIES are GNOSTIC. Only the ideologue and his party know the recipe to produce this perfect world, which must be attained through a brutal rejection of this one; or through a meaningless use and abuse of this one: for this world and human nature itself are but the contemptible stuff that must be overcome to attain the Utopia.
3. IDEOLOGIES are IMMANENT: the apocalyptic heaven is man-made and of this world; not produced by grace and ultimately fully embodied in the world to come, but arbitrarily and forcefully produced by those in power.
IX. HOW DO YOU PROTECT YOURSELF against the Bad Thinkers, the Agnostics and the Ideologues?
E.V.: Oh, by reading the classics, of course. That’s the purpose of education—you must have the masters at your fingertips.
X. And finally …
Nobody is obliged to participate in the crisis of his time. He can do something else. … No one is obliged to take part in the spiritual crisis of a society; on the contrary, everyone is obliged to avoid this folly and live his life in order.
… And order is discerned in the Ground, the source and end of our existence.
In his sermon “The Christian Ministry”, Bl. John Henry Newman lays out for us a possible chain of unbelief. Note that you can start this chain anywhere, but Newman starts it from the point of view of someone who doubts the Priesthood. Doubt that Christ commissioned the Apostles, and set aside a group of men as special conveyors of divine grace; doubt that and the following logically follows. And though not everyone may follow this chain, anyone would be logically consistent in doing so …
Why should any part of Scripture afford permanent instruction? Why should the way of life be any longer narrow? Why should the burden of the Cross be necessary for every disciple of Christ? Why should the Spirit of adoption any longer be promised us? Why should separation from the world be now a duty?
… which is what we see around us: a Catholicism without Scripture as a guide, Catholics walking a Way that is wide and not narrow (Mat. 7:13-14), Catholics who do not even understand the cross (even as a form of discipline or daily suffering or endurance), Catholics who have never even heard of the “Spirit of adoption”, Catholics who would laugh at any suggestion of “separation from the world”.
Is it any wonder then, that if the parents or grandparents who live like this but who still retain the habit of churchgoing and prayer and Lenten penance manage to raise children and grandchildren who are logically consistent with what their elders believe, and who simply stop practicing all together? If our faith is Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (without the morality, the therapy or the deity), then why not stay in bed on Sundays … with the girl or boy or computer of your choice? Really. Why not?
Humans may be inconsistent day to day, but over the long haul, we are very consistent with behaving according to what we actually believe. And if we’re not, our children are.
In his essay “Democracy and Industrial Society”, Eric Voegelin (alluding to Ernest Renan) speaks of three foundational elements in Western society: Hellenistic Philosophy, Jewish-Christian Religion and Roman Administrative Order. In shorthand, this means our society has the constituitive elements of
By the year 1700, it became apparent that Europe was permanently divided into two camps, Catholic and anti-Catholic. In the only department that counts, in the mind of man, the effect of the religious wars and their ending in a drawn battle was that religion as a whole was weakened. More and more, men began to think in their hearts, “Since all this tremendous fight has had no result, the causes which led to the conflict were probably exaggerated. It seems, then, that one cannot arrive at the truth in these matters, but we do know what worldly prosperity is and what poverty is, and what political power and political weakness are. Religious doctrine belongs to an unseen world which we do not know as thoroughly or in the same way.”
… except he is emphasizing the more typical reactions, which are the first two of the bullet points above, the anti-religious attitude, coupled with the anti-rational attitude that rejects the role of reason in seeking right order, reason’s role in approaching the transcendent and its role in ordering our lives toward it, especially as seen in Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy.
But the flipside of this rejection of the School and the Church (the rejection of philosophy and religion) is the rejection of the World and of Power. Voegelin is especially critical of Pietism, which he says was especially prominent in Germany and laid the groundwork for the Nazis.
Pietism was a Protestant movement that began as a desire to re-emphasize sanctificiation – holiness – in a Christian faith that had become worldly and indistinguishable from mere secularism. I am very much in sympathy with such an impetus, for, as you may notice, I spend much of my time complaining about inane suburban parishes and the modern fad of preaching Christ without the Cross.
But Pietism rather quickly became a Gnostic movement that rejected all contact with the messy life-of-the-world as something that was evil. Voegelin quotes a common German saying, die Macht is bose, “power is evil”. The Pietist attitude eventually becomes one in which an “anti-world orientation gets expressed.” The Pietist lives “in expectation of redemption, which requires one to withdraw from the filth of the world and especially of politics.”
This may sound odd to most people who live among the secularists who make up the majority of our neighbors (and who are all quite worldly), but those of us who travel in what I call “Super Catholic” circles see a form of Pietism all around us. It typically takes a more “Quietist” form: “Oh, well. It’s all God’s will. Everything happens for the best. I’ll just sit here until God drops in my lap what I want. And he if doesn’t drop it, oh well. It was not meant to be. Oh, well.”
But it also takes the form of disdaining things like getting a job that excites you, and taking the risks of going to a college that challenges you, or (heaven forbid) dating someone who may entice you to move out of your parent’s basement and put down the video game joy stick. These things are all scary, and when a young person sees them not only as anxiety provoking, but also as inherently evil, then the Christian faith becomes not a sacramental approach to living life, but a sanctimonious way of avoiding it.
Either way, Voegelin’s point is that the Distortions or Derailments, the “anti’s”, have this in common: they reject the transcendent as having any bearing on life: either because reason and revelation are despised, or (in the case of the Pietists) power and politics are despised: in both cases the Incarnation is cut off: the transcendent is divorced from the immanent.
Included in the Pietistic rejection of power and politics are the rejection of things like prudential decisions on how to make a living, taking responsibility for your passions and desires, reasonably exercising your authority as a spouse or parent, etc. – the kinds of real life issues that we never hear addressed in homilies that simply say, “God loves you just as you are,” or “Jesus was nice; you be nice, too,” or “Be enthused! Isn’t it great? Yeah, it’s really great! Hey, Lent is half over! That’s why I’m in pink. Ha ha. Hey! It’s Easter! We can eat chocolate again. Ha ha.” In all of these cases, the True Order that should be guiding our messy lives in this muddled existence is rejected or even treated with contempt.