The speaker at Frassati last night, sort of in passing, mentioned that girls are usually smarter than men give them credit for, because girls tend to react with emotion and that confuses men who over time begin to assume the girl isn't as intelligent.
It is interesting to note that just because men react to a situation with pragmatism and reason does not mean they are devoid of emotion. We are not cold, heartless bastards, we are merely more inclined to analyze a situation than feel about it.
If not taken to an extreme, these traits are not faults. Over-emotionalism and over-analysis both create problems in human interaction, but the default first reaction, if moderate and devoid neither of thought nor of care, is a good way in which men and women counterpoint (it's a verb, I say so) one another.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Violence as Pornography
It occurs to me that relations are sometimes symmetric. Sometime after this post, while I was watching the film Crank, I realized that violence can be pornographic, and I don't mean in the sense of a strange fetish. Of course this has been said before, and may be nothing new to you. It was new to me, to really understand what was meant by the phrase. The stripping away of all meaning, of any spiritual dimension, from death and gore and reducing them to mere spectacles of animal behavior. There is no redemption, there is no Charity, there is only hatred and blackness. It is as if they are trying to undo the St. John's Gospel.
In other news, this is going to be a shitty day, hence why I'm posting reflections on sin when I should be reading header files. I need a break. And prayers, those are good, too.
Ab hoste maligno, defende me.
In other news, this is going to be a shitty day, hence why I'm posting reflections on sin when I should be reading header files. I need a break. And prayers, those are good, too.
Ab hoste maligno, defende me.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Joy of the Cross
The following piece appeared in The Catholic Moment, the newspaper of the Diocese of Lafayette in Indiana.
As Lent draws to a close, the beauty of these early spring days may hide the sorrow that we are celebrating. Yes, we are celebrating sorrow; we are rejoicing in suffering and burning in love.
There is a song by the band Shinedown called “Walk Through Fire.” The song, as far as I know, is not meant to have a Christian message, but I have always been struck by the lyric, “I dare you to tell me to walk through fire.” Whenever I hear this song, my mind fills with images of Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael as they walk about in the Babylonian furnaces, and of the poor souls being purified in the fires of purgatory, and of the martyrs who walked through fire and blood, and in the midst of this my Lenten penance seems so small, so insignificant. I am not burning in flames, nor swimming in blood; I suffer only the papercuts that I choose for myself. They remind me of my weakness, and in the midst of Lent they sting, but only a little. Is it enough?
Lenten penance is not about giving up chocolate because we have to (though often it may feel that way). It is not about making ourselves better people through our efforts and self-denial. We do penance, we engage in voluntary suffering, we endure the papercuts, so that in some small way we may unite ourselves to the suffering of Our Blessed Lord on the Cross, for it is in this way, by uniting ourselves to the sufferings of the crucified Christ, that we hope to share also in the glory of the risen Christ.
As Easter draws near we anticipate the glory of Christ risen. We anxiously await the splendor of his triumph. Until then we may experience the joy and consolation of looking forward to the resurrection. Even in suffering, indeed perhaps especially in suffering, we find joy in drawing closer to Him Whom we love, Who first loved us.
This season of Lent is not merely a pause in our worldly lives, though so often it becomes no more than that (if we even do pause at all). It is also a reminder of what our entire life on this earth is, as strangers and sojourners, a season of sorrow, trial, and loving sacrifice marked by the joy of hope. As we celebrate this Easter season, let us look forward with hope to the glory of the Resurrection, but let us never forget our Lenten life.
We may not die martyrs, but we can die to ourselves each day, even when the priest is not wearing violet. We can love, and sacrifice ourselves in love and for Love. In these little martyrdoms we make our way forward, striving for holiness, begging for purification, sharing in the fire and the blood.
Rejoice in the glory of Easter, for therein we find a small taste of the glory to come. Rejoice in the sacrifice of the Mass, for here we encounter heaven on earth. Remember always that we are strangers and sojourners in this land, and in this life let us struggle, each in our own small way, to become holy. Let us dare to walk through fire.
As Lent draws to a close, the beauty of these early spring days may hide the sorrow that we are celebrating. Yes, we are celebrating sorrow; we are rejoicing in suffering and burning in love.
There is a song by the band Shinedown called “Walk Through Fire.” The song, as far as I know, is not meant to have a Christian message, but I have always been struck by the lyric, “I dare you to tell me to walk through fire.” Whenever I hear this song, my mind fills with images of Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael as they walk about in the Babylonian furnaces, and of the poor souls being purified in the fires of purgatory, and of the martyrs who walked through fire and blood, and in the midst of this my Lenten penance seems so small, so insignificant. I am not burning in flames, nor swimming in blood; I suffer only the papercuts that I choose for myself. They remind me of my weakness, and in the midst of Lent they sting, but only a little. Is it enough?
Lenten penance is not about giving up chocolate because we have to (though often it may feel that way). It is not about making ourselves better people through our efforts and self-denial. We do penance, we engage in voluntary suffering, we endure the papercuts, so that in some small way we may unite ourselves to the suffering of Our Blessed Lord on the Cross, for it is in this way, by uniting ourselves to the sufferings of the crucified Christ, that we hope to share also in the glory of the risen Christ.
As Easter draws near we anticipate the glory of Christ risen. We anxiously await the splendor of his triumph. Until then we may experience the joy and consolation of looking forward to the resurrection. Even in suffering, indeed perhaps especially in suffering, we find joy in drawing closer to Him Whom we love, Who first loved us.
This season of Lent is not merely a pause in our worldly lives, though so often it becomes no more than that (if we even do pause at all). It is also a reminder of what our entire life on this earth is, as strangers and sojourners, a season of sorrow, trial, and loving sacrifice marked by the joy of hope. As we celebrate this Easter season, let us look forward with hope to the glory of the Resurrection, but let us never forget our Lenten life.
We may not die martyrs, but we can die to ourselves each day, even when the priest is not wearing violet. We can love, and sacrifice ourselves in love and for Love. In these little martyrdoms we make our way forward, striving for holiness, begging for purification, sharing in the fire and the blood.
Rejoice in the glory of Easter, for therein we find a small taste of the glory to come. Rejoice in the sacrifice of the Mass, for here we encounter heaven on earth. Remember always that we are strangers and sojourners in this land, and in this life let us struggle, each in our own small way, to become holy. Let us dare to walk through fire.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
