Fruit

I've never really seen the value in the Fruits of the Holy Spirit.

[...wait, what!?  Did he really just say that!?]

Yep, I did.  But allow me to qualify it:

The only emphasis on the fruits of the Spirit that I remember from religious education growing up was that we had to memorize them.  That's all.  (Though, there is the possibility that I just wasn't paying attention.)  So I ask, why are they important, if all we're going to do is learn how to list them by rote?  I do not recall it ever being explained to me how these things are relevant to my life.

<in my boring voice>

1) Love, 2) Joy, 3) Peace, 4) Patient Endurance

5) Kindness, 6) Generosity, 7) Faithfulness, 

8) Gentleness, 9) Self Control

<in my sarcastic voice> 

These are the fruits of the Spirit.  Aren't you edified?

<back to normal me>

(that is, I hope I don't normally sound boring and sarcastic...) 

Time to stop trying to shock and/or entertain the reader 

and simply say what I mean:  

The Fruits of the Spirit are intensely important, but we can't just look at these nice qualities in a list and expect it to matter.  First, we need to hear the fruits in their context from St. Paul's letter to the Galatians.  Therein, he presents the fruit of the spirit in contrast to the works of the flesh:*

"Now the works of the flesh are obvious:  immorality, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, rivalry, jealousy, outbursts of fury, acts of selfishness, dissensions, factions, occasions of envy, drinking bouts, orgies, and the like.  I warn you, as I have warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

In contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patient endurance, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.  Against such there is no law.  Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified their flesh with its passions and desires.  Since we live by the spirit, let us follow the spirit's lead." (Gal 5:19-25)

If we are to live according to the Spirit, then the fruits are for us a sign, in their presence or their absence, of how seriously we are taking this new life in the Spirit to which we are called.  If they are present in us, then that's a pretty good sign we're doing well.  If they're no where to be found, maybe it's time we dealt with that.

I think that most of us can get distracted by some of the more "extra-ordinary" works of the flesh listed, such as sorcery, idolatry, or orgies (which are no less real for seeming so out of the ordinary), and disregard the whole list as outrageous sins that "normal" people don't regularly deal with.  However, there are some very common and very insidious things in that list that we definitely ought to pay attention to.

For example, how many of us tend to lose our temper in outbursts of fury?  What about the tendency that many of us have to divide family or community into factions through the sin of gossip?  Even something like idolatry is very relevant--don't we all, even if we don't admit it, set other things higher than God on our list of priorities?  St. Paul is really taking us to task.

But if we think we aren't doing so well after examining the works of the flesh in our lives, how much more so when we come to see the lack of the fruits of the Spirit?  Do I patiently endure traffic, or a headache, or someone else's whining?  How self controlled am I?  Self control has to do with a lot of things:  food, drink, chastity, occasions of anger, etc.  Where is the joy in my life?  Forget just looking at the bad I have done; how much of a lack of the good is there in my life?

(I've never thought of this before, but I might consider using this whole passage, both the list of works of the flesh and the fruits of the spirit, as a guide for examining my conscience.  It's actually pretty comprehensive insofar as it covers (albeit generally) both "what I have done" and "what I have failed to do.")

And yet, even if we feel terribly accused and convicted by these inspired words of St. Paul, that doesn't mean it's doom and gloom, that all hope for us is lost, and we won't ever enter the Kingdom.  No.  All of it is put into perspective by what Paul writes a few verses earlier:

"You were called for freedom, but do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love. ... Live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh." (Gal 5:13,16)

This is why the Fruits of the Spirit matter:

Freedom is the key.  We are called for freedom and it is the Spirit who makes us free, who helps us choose the good.  Looking at our lives through the lens of the fruits of the Spirit is not just to point out how bad we are and how good we aren't.  So much more important than that, it ought to remind us that we can change!  Paul is not writing to condemn the Galatians nor to condemn us.  He's writing to remind them of the Truth he first preached to them, and to remind us of the Truth we have also heard.  By the power of the Spirit, we can live lives full of joy, love, kindness, generosity, etc.  (By the way, how awesome is the line: "against such there is no law"?)

Make no mistake, when Paul says, "you were called for freedom," he is talking to you. (and me, for that matter)  It's not some hypothetical, as though it us up to us first to decide whether or not we want to live in the Spirit.  It is already a fact:  you are called to be free, so don't waste that freedom on gratifying the flesh.  Take it as an opportunity to be who you were meant to be.

My short-lived stint as a stand-up comedian...
definitely not who I was meant to be

If you think you aren't very patient, then start working on it (and don't forget to pray often for the Spirit to guide you).  If you aren't living your life with joy in your heart, start looking for the many reasons for joy that you have.  The Spirit won't hesitate to help you see them; you just have to ask.  Go down the list, and anything that is lacking in you, make a commitment to welcome the Spirit into your life in that way.  We won't change overnight, but we won't change at all if we don't ever get started.

And while your at it, pray for the intercession of the saints, especially St. Paul.  He desired that the Galatians heard of these fruits--I'm pretty sure he's hopeful we hear of them too!

*- By "the flesh" St. Paul doesn't mean the same thing as St. John when he says that "the Word was made flesh."  John is talking about the mystery of the Incarnation, and how good it is that the Son of God became one of us in every way but sin.  Paul means something very different.  He uses the term "flesh" to mean our sinful inclination away from God, our selfish tendencies which are opposed to the Spirit.  

The usual random photo:

(a bit less random now that it's the norm)

The evening of Sunday, October 3, 2010
You all know what happened.

Merry Christmas

The following is an update post:

This was my first Christmas at home for three years, and what a blessing it was!  Though I was plagued with a cold from the moment I got off the plane, it has been a great time.

The first thing was the annual Caroling at the Bay party at my grandmother's house (my first in three years).  There were so many people there, I was amazed.  Grandmother had made wassail, of course.  I was glad of that because I had made wassail with her recipe for the past three years, but I came home to be reminded just how much better the original is.

That was over a week ago.  Since then, I was acting as the deacon at St. Mary's for daily Mass, and actually preached three daily Masses in a row (a thing unheard of at the North American College).  But that wasn't the height of my preaching duties this week:

I was on to preach the 4:30 vigil Mass, Mass at dawn, and Mass during the day for Christmas (as well as deaconing at the Cathedral for Midnight Mass).  Or so I thought...  After the 4:30 Mass, Fr. Tony pulled me aside and asked me to take his place preaching at the 6:30 vigil as well!  It was a real blessing to be able to preach that much, especially on Christmas.

Christmas morning was fun, as usual.  All of my siblings, siblings-in-law, and I do a name swap every year since there are so many of us.  I got my brother-in-law's name this year, and took it as the last opportunity to get some unique Italian gifts for him.  He got a miniature Bocca della Verità and an Italian movie poster for The NeverEnding Story.

My sister-in-law picked my name and got me some great stuff:  a coffee mug covered in Shakespearean insults and an excellent t-shirt from The Princess Bride.

We had a "small" number at Mom and Dad's for Christmas dinner, small meaning only immediate family, which was thirteen or so people (not even all of my immediate family).  I really enjoy visiting grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but I have to admit that a quieter Christmas without the hassle driving from place to place sure was nice.

My family threw a St. Stephen's Day party yesterday.  Dec. 26 is the Feast of St. Stephen, but not this year, since it fell on a Sunday - it was replaced with the Feast of the Holy Family.  Nevertheless, we had a party, and a bunch of family showed up.  We even had another Stephen show up:  Steve Hellman, one of the seminarians of the Archdiocese who will be ordained a deacon in the spring.

It has been a blessing to be home, and I've still got lot's to do before returning to Rome.  Merry Christmas!

Random photo:

The great beard of '06

Normandy

Earlier this month, I was part of a trio of Mobile seminarians that travelled to Normandy, France.  We saw a whole bunch of very interesting things.

Pat, Travis, and I in Normandy

Having recently visited Sicily, and being intrigued by Norman culture in general, I was looking forward to seeing more classically "Norman" sites, so we saw some old Norman ruins, as well as the Bayeux Tapestry (which chronicles the Norman conquest of England).

Arab-Norman style from Monreale, Sicily

Ruins of Abbaye de Jumièges (back)

Arab-Norman style
from Cefalù, Sicily

Ruins of Abbaye de Jumièges
(front)

I don't know how apparent it is from my pictures, but there are a lot of similarities between the Norman architecture of France and the Arab-Norman architecture of Sicily.  The most striking difference is the colors of the stone.  In Sicily, pietrarosa (pink stone) is everywhere, while in Normandy, white limestone is in abundance.  Anyway, this stuff is very interesting to me, but we saw other stuff too, which might be more interesting to less "Norman-conscious" people:

We naturally spent a lot of time touring the D-Day beaches, particularly Omaha Beach.

Overlooking Omaha Beach

Visiting the American Cemetery at age 26, I realized in a very profound way that the majority of the graves around me were the graves of men younger than I.

I always was awed by the sacrifice that they made, but only in visiting the place did I realize how young they were.  They gave not only their lives, but their years of youth, for people who lived thousands of miles away.

Another thing I couldn't help but notice is the incredible gratitude felt by the people of the region for the sacrifices of the Allied Forces.  You see it in the people themselves (who are very kind and welcoming--so much for French stereotypes), but even in the scenery.  Most of the damage has been repaired, the wreckage and "hedgehogs" cleared, the churches rebuilt, but certain sites are still maintained with great care.

Craters/ruined batteries at Point du Hoc

In addition, remnants of the Mulberry harbor off Arromanches, bomb craters at Point du Hoc, and scattered ruined German batteries all remain as silent but ominous reminders of the battle fought there.  The D-Day sites were a very powerful element of our trip.

Sunset over a German battery

On our last day we visited Lisieux, home of St. Therese.  She is a beautiful saint from the 19th century, who has so much to teach us about the nature of love: "I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifices to all ecstasies.  To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul."

Pat, Travis, and I at the Basilica of St. Therese of Lisieux

Love is something done in the ordinary, small, and even repetitive things we do throughout the day.  As another Theresa, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta would later say, "do ordinary things with extraordinary love.

Related photo, but subject matter no less random:

Pat and I race around the inside of a crater at Point du Hoc

Halloween

I've got a couple longer posts in the works right now, but until they're finished, here are some Halloween pictures to entertain you:

Another seminarian and I decided to dress up as Mario and Luigi.  We came up with the idea back in April or May:  it was the perfect plan.  First of all, his name actually is Mario.  Second, we're both the right size to portray the sibling plumbers.  Finally, he normally wears a beard, and I already had the moustache.  So, he was just going to cut his beard into a moustache, and voila: Super Mario Bros.

But, there was a big complication - I shaved my moustache a month before Halloween, and I had [have] no intention of growing it back.  Luckily, the costumes we got came each with a fake moustache.  This just made the act even funnier when we presented our costumes for the NAC costume contest.

Mario proceeded as planned and cut his beard, but to solve my predicament, I just came on stage without facial hair - Mario was aghast, and asked, "how can we save the Princess if you don't have a moustache?" [in the appropriate Italian accent].  I slowly came to the realization that I was lacking the necessary hirsute appendage and also began to panic.  In the hysteria, I reached off stage and found the moustache, which I put on with much ceremony.

We won!

The crowd (seminarians and priests) loved it, especially since everyone around here seems to miss the moustache a great deal.  It was sort of like the farewell party they never got to have.

The Sun

There is a great hymn that I have only ever heard on Good Friday at St. Ben's (aka, St. Joseph's Abbey and Seminary College, St. Benedict, Louisiana). It is called "Sunrise to Sunset Changes Now." It was first written (though not in English) by St. Clement of Alexandria, a Father of the Church. In prayer today, the lyrics came back to mind. I decided I ought to share the image.

In our lives, we all experience the gloom. It's not a total darkness, but we all know it in some way or another. For all of us, there is at least some suffering, though for some maybe more than others. We all realize not only the suffering we experience due to the wrongs that are done to us, but we're also very aware (though we might not admit it) of how much suffering we've caused through the wrong we have done to others. (And that's not even to consider the uncontrollable circumstances of the gloom, like sickness or hard economic times.)

Still, we all know joy as well, even if we don't always remember it. We dwell in darkness, but only to a certain extent. There is just enough light perhaps for us to trip and stumble if we don't have a guide.

We live in a kind of grey-ness, but what sort of grey is it? Is it dusk or is it dawn? Here's where the hymn comes into play:

Sunset to sunrise changes now,
for God doth make his world anew;
on the Redeemer's thorn-crowned brow
the wonders of that dawn we view.


E'en though the sun withholds its light,
lo! a more heavenly lamp shines here,
and from the cross on Calvary's height
gleams of eternity appear.


Here in o'er-whelming final strife
the Lord of life hath victory,
and sin is slain, and death brings life,
and earth inherits heaven's key.

Before Jesus came among us, before God became Man and gave himself for us, our state was that of sunset. The day was headed steadily into night. Our existence, originally intended to be lofty, was speeding toward total darkness, and without the great divine intervention, we were without hope. Through our Original Sin, we did our very best to thwart God's original intention for us.

But He does not give up so easily.

Night was coming fast, and we were caught in the near perfect gloom. But then, in what seemed like defeat, in that moment wherein His human life was extinguished, our truly human life was given back. Sunset was changed into sunrise. Now, we are still waiting in a grey world, but it's the grey of dawn, not of dusk. The sun was so near to sinking with great finality, but now the Sun is about to rise (or rather He IS risen!) and the night will be clear as day.

"You are not in darkness, that the day should catch you off guard like a thief. For all of you are children of the light and of the day. We belong neither to the night or to the darkness." (1 Th 5:4,5)

Indeed, when that Day shall come in all its fullness, the words of Revelation will ring truer than ever: "They shall see the Lord face to face and bear his name on their foreheads. The night shall be no more. They will need no light from lamps or the sun, for the Lord God shall give them light, and they shall reign forever." (Rev 22:4,5) Just like the hymn says: Lo! a more heavenly lamp shines here! The Cross is the new dawn of the human race.  Just imagine what the day will be like...

Back to the irrelevant photos:

Well, it's not a great photo, but it's the only one I've got of the whole band:
my dad, my three brothers, and me.  This is from our family's celebration of my grandma's 80th birthday.
I've also realized that for a blog entitled "Keytar Catholic," there aren't many pictures of said instrument.

What to Write About...

...when there are so many things to choose from?

The past week has been full of terribly significant events:

• I showed Rome to my family after 3 years of keeping it to (mostly) myself.
• After seven years, I shaved my moustache.
• I was ordained a deacon. ... That deserves reiteration:  I received the Sacrament of Holy Orders!
• I was ordained, with my class, at St. Peter's in Rome!
• My uncle, also a deacon, vested me.
• I left tears on the floor of St. Peter's during the Litany of the Saints.  (It's not like I could wipe my eyes.)
• I preached a real homily for the first time.
• I proclaimed the Gospel (three times thus far).
• I can and have blessed things.
• I had the privilege of accompanying my grandmother to her ancestral home and visiting the church where my great-grandfather was baptized.

So, let's pick one:  Proclaiming the Gospel (interspersed with photos from the whole week)

The first time I proclaimed the Gospel was with part of my family group during the scavi tour at St. Peter's. The scavi are the excavations below the Basilica that delve down around and into the tomb of St. Peter himself.  Our tour guide, a seminarian from the great Diocese of Brooklyn, usually reads a passage from Gospel at the end of the tour, in the presence of the bones of Peter.  He was about to start when I asked him if I could do it, since I was just ordained a deacon and had not yet proclaimed the Gospel.  He said sure.

Me with Mom and Dad - prior to cutting the moustache
(obviously)

So, I began (and this was cool), "the Lord be with you."  That was the first time I had said those words and the people (my family!) responded.  Then I went on, "A reading from the Holy Gospel according to John."

The reading was from John 21.  I taught a class this summer on the Gospel of John, so I have been pondering this passage and indeed the whole structure and theology of the 4th Gospel for a few months now.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Feed my lambs." He then said to him a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, "Do you love me?" and he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." (Jesus) said to him, "Feed my sheep. Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go." He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.

Litany of the Saints:

I'm 2nd from the left.

I almost couldn't finish it.  I don't know if those present understood why, but I was moved to tears for so many reasons.  I can't deny that one of the factors was realizing in the midst of reading that it was the first time that I would proclaim the Gospel of Christ, the very thing which had been handed over to me the day previous by Bishop Hebda.  The good news has been given to us for our own good and salvation, but also it is given to us precisely to share with others.  I was, in that moment, doing precisely that - handing on what had been entrusted to me.  But that wasn't what did me in...

Laying on of Hands by Bishop Hebda

Like I said, I've been pondering the 4th Gospel a lot, but ever since I visited the Holy Land two years ago, the story of Peter has spoken to me in a particular way.  This passage marks the reconciliation of Peter and Jesus after Peter's denial - a threefold denial deserves a threefold reconciliation.  And the reconciliation is not expressed in terms of satisfaction, of making up for the wrong Peter had done.  It's all in terms of love.  Since you love me Peter, then this is what you will do.  I am the Good Shepherd, but I'm trusting you to feed my sheep.  And that's just what happened.  Still, it's not what got me so emotional...

Just after receiving the Book of the Gospels:
"Receive the Gospel of Christ, whose herald
you have become.  Believe what you read,
teach what you believe, practice what you teach."

Remember, we were there at the tomb of Peter, which itself is very near the spot where he was crucified.  Here I was proclaiming the words of Jesus to Peter prophesying the events that would later take place right where we were standing.

Newly Ordained!

At the words, "but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands," I started to crack.

When I read, "and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go," I had to stop speaking for a second and attempt (in vain) to regain my composure.  Not 24 hours prior to this, I was upstairs in the same Basilica being dressed by someone else.  I've always felt a strong connection to St. Peter, but never like it was at that moment.

Offertory Procession:
I'm third from the front.

Offertory Procession:
had to include this shot.

Finally, I read, "He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God."  These words barely made it out of my mouth, and in fact, may not have been comprehensible.

Irenaeus (who was a disciple of Polycarp, who was a disciple of St. John - not irrelevant) says, "the glory of God is man alive."  This means (ha! to presume to define what this means in a couple sentences!) that when we are truly living, when we are who we were created to be, this gives glory to God.  Peter, who the night before Jesus died was yet incapable of glorifying God and in fact denied Him, later gave over his living completely to God and the Church, finally to glorify God by his holy death.  His death was a witness to and a joining in the suffering of his Lord and Brother Jesus Christ.

And there we were right where it had happened.

There I was, hoping to glorify God with my life as well, reading (rather, proclaiming) to my family the story of one who had glorified God.  I was telling the story of one who was a friend of He who was lifted up and taught us how to Glorify God.  

Love for life did not deter them from death.

Preaching for the first time
at St. Lawrence Outside the Walls

The two Deacons Vrazel at St. Lawrence:
Uncle Bill vested me the day before.

Martyrdom is not just a sacrifice of one's life for others; it's not just an instinctive falling on the grenade, however noble and good such an action is.  Martyrdom is nothing short of entering into the Glory that Jesus Christ, the Son, gives to the Father.  Peter asked to be crucified upside down because he rightly considered himself unworthy/incapable of doing what Jesus did, but I wonder if in that moment Peter realized that we (myself, my family, millions of other people, you reading this) would see what he did and see in it the Glory of God.

Everything came into sharp clarity at that moment.  The dawn from on high was shining upon us.  I was given a glance into the whole reason why anyone would care to come to Rome, would care to dig around in those humid tunnels, would build such a huge church above them - in moments of such intense clarity, I don't think I can but weep.

Ordination

I was just ordained a deacon yesterday at St. Peter's in Rome, and today preached at my Mass of Thanksgiving.  It has been an awesome week, and new posts are coming to tell all about it!

Moustache Gone

That's right.

Here's a very relevant photo taken this evening: