Being! Or Nothingness

On Love, for a friend.

Giorgio Paolucci, the President of the Faculty of Psychology at the Catholic University of Milan discusses love and marriage in Traces.

What do we learn from the experience of marriage?

Long-lasting love between a man and a woman is the human experience par excellence, the most eloquent sign that man realizes himself fully through a bond with an other, that the “I” is constitutively open to the encounter with a “you,” and that the “I” expresses itself in a relationship. Today, the term “self-realization” is fashionable. Well, marriage reminds us that man is not self-made, but realizes his identity within a privileged relationship, a loving bond with an other completely different from himself (another being) and yet similar to himself. This bond is not a private fact between two people. All cultures have given public recognition of the love between man and woman: the presence of witnesses at the marriage ceremony stresses that there is a third party that recognizes this bond. Hence, the union between man and women in a generative prospect is essential for the survival of society

The point of departure for a couple’s relationship is usually the experience of falling in love. How is it possible for “falling in love” to become a stable and lasting love, especially in a context like the present one, in which the ephemeral and the provisional are the predominant norms of behavior?

Falling in love starts off from a natural attraction to the other which pushes you to meet him. Deep down, there is a “presumption of similarity.” In other words, you tend to ascribe to the other a strong likeness to yourself, and so you think understanding each other will be easy. This has a strong emotive effect, but a good dose of illusion, too, and experience makes you think again. The other turns out not always able to meet your primitive and often unrealistic expectations. We can say that if it passes this test, then “falling in love” changes into true love.  . . .

Giussani compares the Pope’s view of love–which he defines as “conscious of that approximation to the ideal that is there in every human moment”–to that of Dante, who is aware that “during his earthly life, man has a piece of him” in expectation of fulfillment. It’s a dizzying position, a difficult one to keep….

In his letter, the verses of Vita Nova which accompany the description of this position are moving: “A gentle spirit, full of love, keeps telling the soul: Sigh.” In quoting Dante, Giussani evokes the profoundly human dynamic of desire, which is something different from the immediate satisfaction of our needs, or at least urges us to go beyond them. In the bond between man and woman, desire “deflates” the pretension that the other be the total answer to one’s longing for happiness, and at the same time it nourishes the entreaty for the infinite, for the “forever” that is the deep soul of the relationship.
 
In love, you experience something greater, a mystery which transcends the two of you and which is expressed with a sigh, certainly not a sigh of resignation, but a sigh that expresses a longing. If there is no sigh, there is inevitable decline into pretension as regards the other, and into rage at your own and the other’s inadequacy. Two people who live the experience of true love “sigh,” because they look toward the infinite through each other. Holding hands, they walk together towards the fulfillment of them both. They experience that love for the other . . . 

Ubi Petrus, Ibi Ecclesia

I got back Sunday morning from New York after attending the Seminarian/Youth Rally at Dunwoodie Seminary in Yonkers, NY.  We took 18 students to the rally, after having taken about 30 to meet him at Catholic University in DC on the Thursday before where he did a brief drive-by on his way to the John Paul II Cultural Center.  Earlier that day we had attended mass with him at Nationals Park in the South East side of Washington. 

Each moment was distinct and beautiful, which in and of itself was striking, but what I saw at each event surprised me.  It surprised me because I realized that my being there at each event was something that was entirely "for" me.  Sure, my original intent was to go and greet the Pope, to welcome him to my home, to say "We've been waiting for you, we are happy you have come, welcome, we love you."  Yet, what struck me was that the presence of the pope at each moment reassured me, confirmed me, made me feel somehow secure.  I'll explain.

I invited my students to the Papal mass at Nationals Park because my school had some 300 tickets or so to offer the student body.  I made a strong appeal to them to attend, not just with the school, but with me in particular, to follow me in this event, to try to see what I see in him.  Many of my students chose to go to the mass, but 7 of them chose to go with me.  I invited these same 7 students to leave Nationals Park with me, have lunch at Union Station, and then travel up to the campus of CUA to meet the pope again, this time with my friends in Communion and Liberation.

The 7 who came with me also attend my school of community.  What was beautiful about their traveling with me was how we became better friends.  I was happy that our unity was growing, and I couldn't help but feel proud of the fact that we were a presence in the world.  Sure, we didn't do anything great, but we were together for only one discernible reason.  At the heart of our reason to be there, to be there together was the fact of Christ, in the pope, in our school, in our friendship.

In fact, when the pope drove by that day while we sat on the lawn singing, talking, and playing guitar, I felt his presence was a gift that affirmed our friendship.  He was there almost as if to say "Peter is here to reassure you of your following, to confirm your faith, to witness to the event that happened to you."  And my students noticed to.  Their reactions were all over the board.  That day on the trip home they talked about.  Some were moved to tears at the events of the day, some were uncharacteristically happy, some described feeling loved, but all of my students were happy they had gone, happy we had spent the day together.

I found that my presence at the Pope's events wasn't a happy welcome on my part for him, but rather a begging, a desire to see Peter's face, to have him see me because in my being there I could say "I don't even know how to pray, so I just show my face."

On Saturday, it was even more dramatic.  The event was long and most of it was arduous with the 6 hour Christian "rock" concert beforehand.  But when the Holy Father arrived, the mood changed, the expectation grew, and so did our enthusiasm.  We knew we were going to hear the words of everlasting life, and we were ready.  The fact that I was there with 75 GS and CLU students and teachers was part of the joy.  We were there together, and we were a presence.  And I was acutely aware of Christ's presence among us.  And I missed my students.  I wished that they had come up with me, that they had been able to.  It dawned on me that this nostalgia for my students was because what has happened at my school among us is the same as what was happening there that day.  Christ was present.

So, I'm happy for the pope's visit.  The pundits (thanks Matt Kohn) and the politicians, the journalists and the columnists, the faithful and the unfaithful will all have their opinions, but as for me it's clear. 

Ubi Petrus, ibi Ecclesia, ubi Ecclesia, ibi Christo.

The Pope in America

The Pope is now in America. I am full of expectation waiting to be in front of this man at two different occasions: the Papal Mass at Nationals Stadium in D.C. and the Youth Rally in Yonkers, N.Y.  I am in great expectation for the message of hope he brings, but mostly in awaiting his face, the face of the person who is the Vicar of Christ on Earth.

As Msgr. Albacete said last Friday at the Crossroads Cultural Center event, "Only Something Infinite will Suffice" in preparation for the Pope's visit, "a great danger of the Church in America is to have Christ without the Church." The encounter with Christ happens through a face, a human face, and the Pope is the concrete face of Christ in the world. So, I'm excited.

Check out my brother Francis' blog. He runs it from Benedictine College in Kansas, calling it 3:59, or the minute before John and Andrew had their encounter with Jesus.  It is also the name of the cultural group he began at the college. He wrote an excellent article on the Pope's visit, and instead of plagarizing it, I will just send our readers there.

The Uppity Negro

I am not an Obama apologist.  I have not been drinking the Kool-Aid.  Still, I cannot but feel a little annoyed by the HRC's subtly racist campaign.  I know, no one could dare accuse anyone in the Democrat Party of race-baiting, but Hillary's latest line with respect to Obama's "bitter America" speech seems a little familiar.  I lived in the South for some time as a kid.  I remember the way that people there talked about coloreds (black, brown, yellow, etc.), which was never out-right KKK style racist.  It was more subtle, more poisonous.  They painted them with old stereo-types.  If the black guy tried to sound smart, he was called "arrogant" or, as Hilary is doing now, "elitist." 

Imagine, a black man who thinks he's better than you!   Why, that uppity negro needs to be put in his place.  And, in the way only a woman of the South could get away with, it's a woman who points this out.  Hilary seems to be trying to play the Grande Dame of white America, suggesting something that would draw the ire of all men of good will and noble up-bringing:  "He's saying he's better than us, he's elitist!  That negro is insulting us and one of you should do something about it, or you're no real man, you must stand up and defend us!"  It's this kind of suggestion that gave us the unrecognizable body of 14 year-old Emmit Till.  Today, Hillary's trying to use it to give herself the delegates of Pennsylvania.

Disgusting.  I'm not a huge fan of Obama but, God please, anyone but Hillary.

Pope of Hope Goes YouTube

Dear Brothers and Sisters in the United States of America,

    The grace and peace of God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ be with all of you! In just a few days from now, I shall begin my apostolic visit to your beloved country. Before setting off, I would like to offer you a heartfelt greeting and an invitation to prayer. As you know, I shall only be able to visit two cities: Washington and New York. The intention behind my visit, though, is to reach out spiritually to all Catholics in the United States. At the same time, I earnestly hope that my presence among you will be seen as a fraternal gesture towards every ecclesial community, and a sign of friendship for members of other religious traditions and all men and women of good will. The risen Lord entrusted the Apostles and the Church with his Gospel of love and peace, and his intention in doing so was that the message should be passed on to all peoples.

At this point I should like to add some words of thanks, because I am conscious that many people have been working hard for a long time, both in Church circles and in the public services, to prepare for my journey. I am especially grateful to all who have been praying for the success of the visit, since prayer is the most important element of all. Dear friends, I say this because I am convinced that without the power of prayer, without that intimate union with the Lord, our human endeavours would achieve very little. Indeed this is what our faith teaches us. It is God who saves us, he saves the world, and all of history. He is the Shepherd of his people. I am coming, sent by Jesus Christ, to bring you his word of life.

Together with your Bishops, I have chosen as the theme of my journey three simple but essential words: “Christ our hope”. Following in the footsteps of my venerable predecessors, Paul VI and John Paul II, I shall come to United States of America as Pope for the first time, to proclaim this great truth: Jesus Christ is hope for men and women of every language, race, culture and social condition. Yes, Christ is the face of God present among us. Through him, our lives reach fullness, and together, both as individuals and peoples, we can become a family united by fraternal love, according to the eternal plan of God the Father. I know how deeply rooted this Gospel message is in your country. I am coming to share it with you, in a series of celebrations and gatherings. I shall also bring the message of Christian hope to the great Assembly of the United Nations, to the representatives of all the peoples of the world. Indeed, the world has greater need of hope than ever: hope for peace, for justice, and for freedom, but this hope can never be fulfilled without obedience to the law of God, which Christ brought to fulfilment in the commandment to love one another. Do to others as you would have them do to you, and avoid doing what you would not want them to do. This “golden rule” is given in the Bible, but it is valid for all people, including non-believers. It is the law written on the human heart; on this we can all agree, so that when we come to address other matters we can do so in a positive and constructive manner for the entire human community.


Dirijo un cordial saludo a los católicos de lengua española y les manifiesto mi cercanía espiritual, en particular a los jóvenes, a los enfermos, a los ancianos y a los que pasan por dificultades o se sienten más necesitados. Les expreso mi vivo deseo de poder estar pronto con Ustedes en esa querida Nación. Mientras tanto, les aliento a orar intensamente por los frutos pastorales de mi inminente Viaje Apostólico y a mantener en alto la llama de la esperanza en Cristo Resucitado.

Dear brothers and sisters, dear friends in the United States, I am very much looking forward to being with you. I want you to know that, even if my itinerary is short, with just a few engagements, my heart is close to all of you, especially to the sick, the weak, and the lonely. I thank you once again for your prayerful support of my mission. I reach out to every one of you with affection, and I invoke upon you the maternal protection of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Que la Virgen María les acompañe y proteja. Que Dios les bendiga.

May God bless you all.

Adhering to Reality

So, it is April, and it is the time when schools will offer their teachers a contract to return or will inform them that they will not be invited back for another year.  I have found this time of year to be particularly interesting because it has caused me to look back over this year and ask "Why should you stay?"  I know that the ultimate decision does not rest with me, but with the Lord who brought me here and the administrators who, for good or ill, have been vested with the authority to make this decision.  Still, I find my freedom provoked.

I have loved teaching here, it has been a time of great challenge and reward, of joy and of sadness, of life, real life lived with intensity and the acute awareness of one who is loving me in all of this, who I am responding to and moving toward and contending with.  In the end, it is this aspect that makes me want to stay, that makes me interested in living in this place for another year.  Here, in my school, with all of its virtues and weaknesses, I have found myself completely free to say yes to Him again and again.  To witness to Him, who is the reason for my life, to respond to him with all of my energy and verify that life is not as sweet when it is not lived in relationship to the meaning of life, which is Christ.

So, I want to stay because I want to adhere to reality here.  I want what comes, whatever it is, and I want to find myself continually provoked to live life with intensity and passion.  I am learning to become a better teacher, a better colleague, and a more human presence.

Memorare ad Italia

Yesterday, I went to the Baptism of my friend's newest daughter, Monica. Don Mauro, leader of GS in Crema, Italy came all the way across the pond for the baptism. Don Mauro is a great man and a fantastic priest, but the most striking thing was the friendship he has with the family. Since the family has moved to D.C. from Italy they have had five kids and five times has Don Mauro been to America, staying as long as he can but usually just enough time to drive from the airport, dip the baby in holy water and drive back. A little exaggerated, but he was on a 24 hour time slot here. I got to spend some of this time with him, and I think I learned a little bit of the reason why my friends love this beautiful man so much.

Speaking with him (through a translator, he knows no English and I barely any Italian) I told him of my desire to come and study in Italy at the school where he is the responsible for GS. After roughly estimating the cost with him, it came out to about $10,000 US dollars (give or take, however strong our dollar is against the friggin' Euro). Thats a lot of money, especially because I would have to pay for most of it and I'm 15. So, Steve suggests that we say 10,000 memorares for 10,000 dollars, which is a good idea. Don Mauro took it to a more concrete level, shall we say. Acting all of this out, he says to ask for donations from friends and family, the sick, the desperate, everyone and for every dollar, say a Memorare for them or whatever intention they ask for. He also suggested I charge extra for different things, such as two dollars for hands folded, five on my knees, ten on one foot, half off for saying it in bed, and so on. But I'm gonna try it and see what happens.

Its called Memorare ad Italia (we thank our friend Bill for the interesting combination of Italian and Latin) but for every dollar one gives me they get a Memorare in return. Actually two, because, as Steve tells me, all I have to do is ask and Don Guissani will say them with me.  Because asking or desire is the main component of prayer, this sustains prayer. And the exchange of my fund raiser is that we sustain each other's desire. You in a very concrete way with money and me in a very concrete way with the praying of the Memorare.

So spread the word or donate yourself, and I'll pray for you! The email is memorare.ad.italia@gmail.com to get in touch. Thanks!

That Where I Am, You May Also Be

"That Where I Am, There You May Also Be," is part of a song I remember from somewhere in my childhood.  I am not sure how the rest of it goes, but this little part has been running through my head today along with the companion line, "In the World you will have trouble, but I'll give you my peace."  I think I remember Dolly Parton singing it . . .

So, in the World there is trouble.  I seem to know this aspect of the Christian re ality rather well.  It seems that everywhere I go I find this.  Usually, I find it pretty quickly.  I'm sure 99% of it is the simple fact that my fallen humanity gets in the way of everything I try to do.  I think more and more, however, that there is another component that I did not account for enough in my history.  "The devil is prowling around you like a roaring lion, ready to devour you.  Resist him, steady in your faith."  St. Peter writes this in his letter to the Church evangelized by Paul.  He's encouraging the communities to be faithful and "sober and alert."  It's this alert sobriety that I seem to lack most often.  The "alert sobriety" in front of the Evil One . . . because he seeks to destroy us, not necessarily by killing us, but by destroying our effectiveness, the place where we can be free and freely move, and therefore, where we can be freely Christian.

And the enemies are not only external, but internal as well.  As I'm teaching my Sophomores right now, the Church has always been plagued by enemies from within and without.  On the one hand, the external persecutions of the Jewish Authority and the Romans and on the other, the heretics. The devil is prowling around us like a roaring lion, ready to devour us.

I don't want to seem too paranoid, but it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you . . . right?

All this is to say, that the more I read the scriptures, the more I live life, the more I do the work that Carron has encouraged us to do, the work of the heart that leads to judgment, the more I understand that the reality that the early Christians lived, I am also living.  And where I am, He is too.

Claimed by Christ

I started a School of Community (SoC) in my school last semester when one of my students, John, asked how he could become more certain in life.  School of Community is the primary educative method of Communion and Liberation, the ecclesial movement to which I belong.  I was provoked by what happened there today. 

One of my most faithful students did not come.  He's never missed.  But not only did he not come, he did not let anyone know that he was not coming, nor why he wasn't coming.  We sent him a text message, to which he did not respond.  The guys (because only guys come to my SoC) told me that he was in the hallway talking to girls, so we began without him and I sent him a message to not come, since he was late.

School of Community was beautiful, but I missed not having this student there.  After SoC, I went to find him, since I knew he would be at basketball practice.  He came over to talk to me and made some excuse for why he did not come.  It was fine, it seemed reasonable, and I had no reason to doubt him, but the problem wasn't that he did not come, but that he didn't tell us that he wasn't coming.  We were expecting him, and he left us hanging.

In the course of the brief exchange I sensed that there was something else at play as well.  Zack didn't come by after he finished what he was doing because he was afraid.  He was afraid of my disappointment, and afraid of my reaction because he wasn't there.  When I asked him if he was afraid, he quickly admitted it, to which I responded, "Zack, I love you whether you can come or not, don't be afraid."  He relaxed and asked if he and I could do SoC tomorrow.  I told him that it would be fine, but he needed to come find me, I was not going to go looking for him.

All of this happened, and I was moved by a fact that ran through this whole event:  Christ has claimed us!  I was moved that Zack was so bothered by the fact that he missed that he would become afraid.  How can this simple, usually arduous, often tedious little School of Community cause someone to be afraid?  Because in not going he recognized, even if not completely aware, that he was going against himself, that he was committing a sin in the way that Giussani describes it.  And in the end, he could not bring himself to show his face because he does not trust the mercy that is present in this companionship. 

How was he going against himself?  Christ is present among us!  His presence places a claim on our life that we cannot ignore.  Either we adhere or we go way.  If we go away, we become sad or afraid.

I began to think about myself and recognized that I have the same tendency when I do not participate to that which gives me life.  When I skip something, or miss School of Community, or don't go to the Spiritual Exercises (for a million "good" reasons, usually) I become afraid to face my friends, afraid that they will ask me why I was not there.  I too have a hard time trusting the mercy that is present in the companionship.

So I was in awe, again.  I was in awe that this moment of "forgetting" became a moment of memory, that it became a moment to recognize Christ.  I was in awe of Christ, of who he is, the Mystery of his presence which places a claim on life.  I became more grateful for the presence of Christ in my life, my esteem for him grew because I recognized that he is among us.  In this familiar way, I became more cognizant of the Mystery of Christ.  Who are you, Jesus?

The Mystery of a Classroom

Welcome to my study hall.  As you enter you can see on the board, in large handwriting, today's instruction (it is everyday's instruction) that reads:  "Silence:  Again, I remind you, it's hell until we can learn to get along."

Over the course of last semester, I earned a reputation that is probably well deserved, as a "lenient" study hall monitor.  I'm not sure that it was that way from the beginning, but over time those students and I developed a certain relationship that made it possible for us to have a rather loose environment.  They were juniors and worked as they needed to, and then made up for it when they didn't.

Things change, and so did my study hall.  They were all dispersed into other study halls and I was given an entirely new group (a rather large one) to deal with.  Having heard of my laxity they came in on day one with the tired air of privilege that characterizes their age and socio-economic status.  And thus began that slow and arduous path I like to call "Project Iron Fist."

All of this has raised an interesting question, in them, and in me.  Am I just a draconian despot who wages a war of wills against them?  Am I mean?  What is at stake?

First, some observations:  My students seem completely incapable of asking for a reason for my actions, or an explanation.  Finally, yesterday, one of them did.  This has been the practice now for 3 weeks, yet no one has asked me, "Why are you doing this?"  Yesterday, the question came not so much as a question but the response to a question I asked when one student said "He hates us!"  To which I replied "How can I hate you?  I don't even know you."

And there in lies the rub.  I don't know them.  They don't know me.  Yet, they treat me as if they did know me, or better, they treat me as if I'm supposed to react a certain way because of what they have heard.  I want them to understand that a relationship involves a mutual interest.  They arrived with no interest in me, just an expectation that I give them what they want:  unrestrained, unmitigated permissiveness.

And so, the education begins.  If you aren't interested in beginning, I can't help you.  Come in, do your work, and let's not bother each other.  It's simple.  But, if you are interested, then move.

And yet, they won't move.  What paralysis affects us so powerfully in this culture that in front of what I am interested in, in front of what I want, I won't move.  I'll ignore it.  Yet, I'll get angry if it doesn't move toward me.

I guess angry is some sort of a movement.

Hope for the World, Wine in New Wineskins

I just returned from Houston this weekend for the wedding of Eveline and Carlos.  I don't know Carlos very well, but Eveline is a great friend.  She is like a thunderstorm of humanity all exploding at you at great speed and great danger.

It was great to see my friends from Houston and Brenham, it was a beautiful party, and I was really happy to be there with my friends from New York, Antonio and Andri.  Again, like at the last wedding I went to in New York for Stella and Rich, it was really a foretaste of heaven.  I don't want to be abstract, because I was struck by the simple fact that I was at a party with all of my friends.  But not just any party, rather a party in which the meaning for the celebration was clear and clearly united to the meaning of everything.

It wasn't my own wedding, but I could not help but feel that somehow my "yes" was present there in the simple "I do's" of Stella and Rich and Eveline and Carlos.  It was clear that their weddings happened within a context, the same context that their marriage will happen, that is, within a particular friendship.  And I was a part of that, my presence helped, somehow, to make it happen.

The weekend was a clear provocation to my life, and not just when I caught the garter!  At every moment this weekend, in front of my friends who I hadn't seen in a while, my former GSini who were wasting their time outside missing the event, and at the Mass in front of Carlos and Eveline exchanging vows, I found myself asking "What is this for me?" and then having to give the reasons for these things, to recognize the fact that was provoking me.

"What is the meaning of this?" was my constant inquiry.  And the overwhelming awareness that all that I had been participating in, every moment, had been given by one who knew how much I needed these friends, this event.  And the Word became flesh.

Are you serious about that question?

Today this question becomes the provocation that begins everything.  A few classes ago I asked my students "What can we be certain of?"  True to the nihilistic culture I began to cast doubt on my students certainty about everything that they said they were certain of.  That they exist, that they can really love, that the things in front of them are really there ... all of this is suspect in modern culture.  The problem of modern philosophy mixed with post-modern philosophy has created a world in which not only is reason suspect, but reality is suspect.  In the absurdity of casting everything into doubt I asked my students . . . "What can you be certain of?  Because if you can't be certain of something, how can you be certain of Christ?"

And so we took the long trek back to reality.  To take reality as the starting point because to doubt reality is the most absurd suggestion to a 15 year old kid.  And so, I suggested we begin with reality and move from there.

One student was particularly provoked by this discussion and text messaged me with the statement "I can be certain that I am because I think."  Cogito ergo sum.  I suggested that sum ergo cogito was a more reasonable position and thus the provocation was exacerbated.  Today he came to me after school trying to defend his position.  I guess I could have engaged him in it, it's always fun, but I felt something more serious provoking me:  What does this kid really want to know?

So I said to him, "Are you serious about that question?  If you are then you have some work to do, you have some thinking to do.  If you're not, then don't waste my time."  Tonight he messaged me again.  He says he is serious about the question and wants to read what I might suggest.  The easy out.  Because any book can be disputed and disengaged and made irrelevant.  But I'm not that easily won out.  Instead of suggesting a book I suggested that he begin to read a book with me, once a week.  That we begin to read something together so that we can verify if we can have certainty about something.  He said "Alright, sound good."

And in this way, School of Community is born in my school.  I will suggest that we read together "The Journey to Truth is an Experience," by Luigi Giussani.  That we read it once a week.  That we discuss it and try to understand it together.  Sure, he can read a book on his own.  He could read Heidegger or Husserl or Sartre, Thomas Aquinas or Augustine or Maritain, any of these would help him begin down a path to think about this question of "What can I know with certainty?" but the only thing in my experience that has really helped with this question is the companionship of those who ask my questions with me.

Since I'm serious about this question, I can only propose one thing.  I can only propose myself.  Because the one who is the meaning of reality, the one who is the only answer to the question of man is Christ.  And this man has chosen me to be this proposal, proving once again for the umpteenth time . . . Jesus has no taste in friends.

Happy Birthday Steve...

    Today is Steve's birthday, and he's turning 29. This is his birthday message, but instead of pulling the most depressing quotes from wacko philosophers, I'm going to tell a simple experience of why Steve is the figure he is to me.

    Today Steve, me and several other friends had lunch with Msgr. Albacete after he joined the CL Adult Community for their beginning day. Monsignor is incredible; after knowing me two hours and giving me my logos ( the reason for my existence, which is to carry his bag) he invites me to eat with him and the people that he had known before for God knows how long. It was just a fantastic gratuitous gift, one that I had no conception of whatsoever and really drove home the point of "encounter", or that unexpected meeting with Christ.

    But after the dinner, driving home from a football game we attended afterwards, it became so clear to me why I love Steve so much. It is simply because he loves me, my heart and my happiness, more than I ever will. I have no choice but to follow that and love him back. He was talking on the phone with a friend from New York who had called to give birthday salutations, and he was saying how beautiful the day went and how happy he was that I began the relationship with Msgr. Albacete. On his own brithday, the thing that  made him so happy (I think) was the fact that I was happy. That is love.

So Happy Birthday, a million times over Steve. Its official; it's on the blog!

Violence in Finland

    Today, at a high school called Joleka in Finland, an 18 year old student opened fire on random people, taking a total of eight lives before taking his own. Before the rampage the boy posted videos on Youtube, announcing the terror he would unleash on his classmates, waving a .22 caliber pistol and wearing a shirt that read Humanity is Overrated. Flags fly halfway all over Finland, and people throughout Finland are attending payer services and silence for the victims of the murder.

    These acts of shocking violence and using the Internet to publicize them has become a fashion, albeit a disturbing one. We all remember the Virgina Tech massacre and the several smaller incidents following.  But as I flipped through the paper on my Metro ride, it wasn't just the school shooting that seized my attention. There were pictures and articles to see in the newspaper that reported acts of violence from all over the world. Riot police preparing for protests in Tbilisi, Georgia; protester-police battles in Islamabad, gunmen in Caracas, Venezula injure 8 students at a March to protest President Hugo Chavez, and it could go on and on.

    On November 8,1987 in Enniskillen, Northern Ireland an bomb exploded at a ceremony honoring war casualties, killing 11 people and leaving many more injured. Bono, the lead singer of U2, dedicated the song "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" to the dead at a concert on that exact same day. 20 years later, we are still singing the same song that says "How long? How long must we sing this song?" And my question is exactly that.

Beginning Again (Hopefully)

"The only joy in the world is to begin. It is beautiful to live because to live is to begin, always, and every instant."
-Cesare Pavese

I love that line. I wish it to be my life, in every moment, every second. After screwing up alot of things, I can come back to that. And with the certainty of being loved, I begin again.

If you were wondering about my two week absence, then the above has something to do with it. When I am not living, there is nothing to post on the blog. There is nothing of value. But this is a post, and it's a little sign that I am beginning my life anew.

Beginning Day 2007

Last Saturday, me and about 40 other GS (Gioventu Studentsca) students gathered at St. Francis of Assisi Parish for our annual Beginning Day.  The theme of the day was "Christ in his Beauty Draws Me to Him" and Chris Bacich came down from New York to accompany us and lead the important day.

Chris gave us three points to keep in mind, and after the talks, we ate and went on a hike around Lake Needwood to the dam to sing some (as the pun of the week went, which annoyed so many people) "dam" songs. All of us returned to St. Francis for Mass.

The points Chris emphasized in his talk were so beautiful because they tied directly into the last couple of GS meetings we had had, and it was useful to hear them with such passion and certainty. (In a nutshell) Chris laid out the limitations we face as human beings (physical, from society) and told us that the only way we are free from these limitations is that we are a direct relationship with the Mystery, which is manifest in the infinite desires of our hearts.

This was the understanding I came to at the Radius meetings about the Jena 6 incident.  We examined the case and came to the conclusion that the only way to freedom, to equality, is a certain "religiosity" that needs to be lived.  That is, to live with the awareness of our relationship to the Mystery, which man irreducibly possesses .  After these meetings, the awareness that the Radius provoked in me was not just about blacks and whites, or down-trodden minorities. It helped me look at my classmates, teachers and most importantly friends and family. One big thing happened that moved me greatly.

Since more than half the Latin II class was gone due to a football game (its only about 7 of us) our teacher let us off for the day and let us go outside on a bright, clear, sunny day at about the time the 6th grade has gym class. They were playing house football (the school is divided into four of them . . the idea having been lifted from a certain J.K. Rowling book) and my two friends and I went to watch. We stood next to the gym teacher overseeing the game, and watched. The teacher yelled to one team "How long are you gonna let so and so and Matthew sit out?" I don't remember or care who the other kid was, but Matti is my cousin, and not exactly inclined to football.

He has mild autism, is not exactly an athlete, and is inclined to dreaming.  I said to the gym teacher "Matti is my cousin". I had been telling most of the teachers this in hopes that they would pay attention to him because he gets a great deal of bullying from the popular kids.

The teacher turned to me and said " You need to kick the shit out of that kid, he's such a fucking nerd."

Matti, to his gym teacher and classmates, is only the fact that he can't play football, or that he runs like a gay, or that he tucks his gym shirt all the way into his pants.  They reduce him to this.

But he can't be reduced to this. He is something infinitely greater than that: a direct relationship with his creator. It was the education I received to that fact in GS that helped me to see Matti in a different way, to stand in front of that teacher with a great certainty, and in the end, to love my cousin in a new beautiful and concrete way.

On Becoming Friends

    This afternoon, after school, two of my students stopped by my office and proceeded to spend the next hour and a half shooting the breeze with me.  We talked about life, Jesus, my class, Ramen noodles (which they found in a cabinet and promptly made use of), and general nonsense.  I told them about the diet that I'm on (more on that later) and they told me about their work-outs. 

    It was all pretty low key, yet there was something else about it, something new.  It never fails to surprise me, the novelty of Christ, which is his presence in anything that is new and draws the human heart toward a more true position, exposing desire in it's most authentic form.  In the Book of Revelation, John tells us that in his vision Christ says, "Behold, I makes all things new."  (Revelation 21:5)  I was a witness to this "happening" which can be seen as the first moment in a new friendship.  One which has no possible explanation for itself except that He is.

    I remember a colleague of mine once saying that the problem with some teachers is that they wanted to be their student's friend.  I found it bothersome then, and repulsive now, that this would be considered a bad thing.  I guess the common mentality would assume that adults and teenagers should not have friendships and any relationship between teenagers and adults is always perceived as suspect, riddled with innuendo and suspicion.  Either the adult is immature or wickedly intentioned, and therefore dangerous in each case, or the teen is presumptuous or needy (and therefore a loser).

    Yet, it seems that what a "teen culture" needs more than anything is friendships with adults, real adults, who don't just want some simple, immature "re-living" of their youth, but a genuine educative friendship which moves toward the Destiny of each friend.  When Giussani founded Gioventu Studentesca in Milan in the 1950's, it wasn't out of some desire to found a youth group, rather it was the natural outpouring of a friendship that developed between him and his students.

    Father Giussani has himself said that he never started out in order to found something.  In fact, I think even if a Movement hadn't been born from this, he would have been happy.  Christ is not communicated by a program or a solution dreamed up to help young people.  This isn't true in my experience either.  I don't want someone who comes to offer me the next great solution to my existential dilemma, I want someone who can be with me in this, who loves me through this, who cares for me in spite of it.  I want a friend.

    And, so do young people.  It is not without reason that John Paul II continually referred to us as "My dear young friends."  This position is the only authentic one, the one that does not begin from a position of suspicion, but rather an invitation to staying with us, living with us, and in turn living with Him, because he is made present in the world through us.  And every time he is made present, something new happens, a novelty.

    And so, the novelty of a friendship with two students begins.  And He is.  And I am glad.

Sticking it to the Man?

A courageous blow to the music industry, a really bad money-losing idea, or has Radiohead just completely whacked out?

Find out at this website and pay as much as you want for the new Radiohead album.

Helping out C.S. Lewis

As an assignment for the book Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis in my 9th grade Literature class, our teacher gave us a list of creative options and told us to choose one. 

Among them was an option to create an episode for the book using the characters and setting used, as this was the one most appealing to me, I chose it.  Other options were to draw the alien creatures used in the story or to write a conversation between you and one of these creatures and being the two easiest choices most of the class chose them.

It was not surprising to see that their idea of Lewis' created characters mirror the scribbles they draw on the desks and bathroom walls, and the dialogues that they have with "Malacandrian" creatures (the name for Mars, the planet the story takes place on) sound exactly like the kind of useless conversations conducted on the playground and in the hallways.

I decided to take this project seriously and wrote on the main theme of the book, human nature. But one thing I thought to be missing in the protagonist of the novel was the heart, the reason why he takes the steps he does in the novel and makes the changes he does. Heres what I wrote.

(Insert in Chapter 16, towards the end between blood" and " It was a tiring...)
    As the group sat down, the young sorns continued their interrogation of Ransom, for the mention of things so contrary to the ways of their planet sparked great curiosity.

    "With no Oyarsa how is your planet not destroyed?" asked one of the pupils.

    Ransom opened his mouth defensively, trying to think of a legitimate answer but stopped before saying anything.  He thought that having a legitimate answer was not enough, but his answer had to be true.  The human had never given thought to how Earth was not a wasteland after being ravaged by war or pollution or how it could be with great enmity between races of people.  These things had always been familiar in the pattern of his life; not welcome, not joyous, but never alien, and something he certainly never questioned.

    The young sorn sensed Ransom's lack of an answer and did not pursue the subject.

    Later, as the creatures of Malacandra prepared to sleep, Ransom crept outside and sat in the bitter cold of the night and the powerful brightness that lit up the area.

    How different would Earth be with the same ways as the creatures of Malacandra? was the pressing thought in his mind as he sat in the night, occasionally glancing at the still harandra, the dead area on the surface of the planet.

    Ransom thought back to his native Earth, to his homeland in England, and the horrors of war and other tragedies that have plagued it since he could remember, and still plague it so many miles away. He was troubled by this, but he could not pinpoint why.  This something inside of him, this burning, was something familiar to him, yet he often neglected it.

    And with that Ransom rose and retired to bed.

It was 20 years ago today...

Or maybe 23 days.  But I decided to invoke the help of Sir Paul to try and ease back into the whole blogging thing without anyone noticing that I haven't gotten off my lazy ass to post after since my original post.

Anyway, my birthday came and went (September 13th) and I am completely happy for it.  It was a simple and profound reminder of how much I am loved and how much I am blessed to have the family and friends that I have.

But life keeps chugging on, even for us uber-blessed people, and I am now in school and busy out the wazoo.  It's the normal 15 year old things: enduring a hyperactive 40 year old man with flaming red hair who teaches Why the Barbarians Were Like So Totally Kick Ass 101.  This class is known most educated people as something like "Medieval History."  I'm vigorously studying for all of my other classes and trying to cram in every opportunity to pursue the things I love most . . . usually all in one day.

With all this, I have the original attachment to this blog I have always had, and with that I feel responsibility, not only to Steve or to the readers, but to myself, because if blogging is any way beneficial to the life I'm living, I shouldn't half ass it. So that comes to at least one article a week, no excuses. I'm 15, time to make the jump into being a living person. Ciao!