The Devil's Blackmail

Okay, I'm just gonna say it:  I do some stupid things.  Throughout this blog's short lifetime, I have made no secret of the fact that I'm not perfect, and I've talked several times of one of my chief temptations, namely my same-sex attractions.  But I want to make it abundantly clear that, when I say I do thing that are gravely and humiliatingly wrong, I'm not just talking about in the past, some time long ago that was magically resolved at some point--like when I met my wife, or married her, or when I became a father, or any other milestone that so many people might claim "turned my life around."  No, I still stumble.

In fact, I stumble in ways that leave me open to public shaming and embarrassment, things that could come back to bite me.  I won't go into details, because the details aren't relevant here.  But I've foolishly opened myself, even in recent times, to exposure.  I wrote a post about misuse of the word "hypocrite" not that long ago, and even if the word is often misapplied by "the world," I've certainly given the world potential fuel to misapply it to me.  I behave in ways that are unchristian, and sometimes when I behave in these ways I don't even show any sign that I'm remorseful or that I have any conscience in the matter.  By all accounts, it might seem like I'm a "traitor" from either point of view, whether from the view of faith or the view of the "anything goes" culture.  Two-faced.  Duplicitous.  To be honest, I'll admit one thing where I am a genuine hypocrite:  I find it scary and off-putting when others behave that way, and yet I do it myself and don't think I am scary.  It's very humbling for me even to admit that, because I am often as guilty as any Pharisee of thinking that "I'm more honorable than those sinners."  I'm not.  Not by a long shot.

What will I do if they find out I'm human?!

Anyway, the point is that there exists in this world, for all I know, the means to "expose" my sins, and to show everyone that not only are my failures still very much ongoing, but also that when I'm in "sin mode" I am a very different person than the person I want to be, the person that I would be proud to be.  I am no better than anyone, and I say that from the heart.  The reality of "me" is not always pretty or responsible.  I can be as stubborn or shameless as any other sinner in the whole world.  The only difference at all is that, by God's Grace, I am ultimately willing to admit that my sins are sins, but even then "in the moment" I sometimes put that reality on the back burner and won't mention it if it would be an "inconvenience" to the wrong deeds I'm pursuing.

God knows my sins.  And unfortunately, so does the devil.  And that snake would love nothing more than to use them against me, to intimidate me from doing anything good that might put my reputation on the line.  The devil is more shameless than any human sinner could ever be:  He is not above using cheap blackmail, and ever since I reached puberty he has used it against me.  Now, perhaps, he has more to work with than before, since as a family man it's even more "embarrassing" that I have the struggles I do.

Here's an example:  In very recent times I've even second-guessed whether or not I should continue promoting this blog, or ever consider attaching my real identity to it.  The fear is that if this blog, by some miracle, should ever really "take off" well enough to make a difference in people's lives, then it will also tick off all the wrong people.  Digging could be done to discredit me, and if someone dug deeply enough, I in my foolishness have left enough of a trail that their work could pay off.

"Give it up," the devil whispers, "If you'll stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours.  Just live a quiet life, keep your religion and your values to yourself, and there will be no reason for anyone to ever make your fears come true."

I offa you a deal out of the kindness of my heart.
If you refuse my generosity, I can't be held responsible
for what happens.  I'm just sayin'.

But I don't intend to do that.  By the power of Christ Who strengthens me, even my writing this post is a defiance of the threat.  I may not be giving details, but I'm admitting here that you shouldn't be surprised by the types of failures I've known and continue to know.  The devil wants me to be afraid that you might find out I do some really rotten things even as I write and speak about healing and faith, so I'm beating him to the punch and confessing it here.

I think that's why the scriptures say "confess your faults to one another."  I don't think that's only about confessing to a priest--there are other scriptures suited for that case--I think it's because being open about our imperfections and shortcomings cuts the fangs of the devil, and robs him of the fuel he has to use against us.  It's a scary thing, but we are called to be courageous.

I hope that if you take nothing else from this post that you take this:  If you're in a similar position, if you've ever worried that your mistakes might catch up with you, if you've ever felt torn between wanting to make a difference but also wanting to cower safely in obscurity, you're not alone.  I feel that very same way.  We're in it together.  Let's see if we can muster courage together too.  

Judgmentalism: More Secular Than You Think

We Christians are often accused of being judgmental.  "You people think everything is a sin," the secularists and modernists say.  Now, for one thing, I would question someone's creativity if the majority or entirety of everything fun or good they can think of falls under the banner of what we Christians would call sin.  It seems to me that if you must dip into sin to have a full life, you're doing something wrong.  Because the reality is that the number of things the Church and scriptures teach to be sinful is dwarfed by the number of things that are beautiful, good, and desirable.

But that's beside the point.

Get it?

I would argue that defining and identifying sin has nothing to do with being judgmental in the way that the word is usually used.  Usually when someone makes that accusation, they believe that we are judging people.  In fact, only God can do that, and Christians have taught that for centuries.  What we can do is judge actions, and point out that these actions lead to material and spiritual doom if left unchecked and not repented.  But actually, we are called specifically to not judge the sinner himself.  We are supposed to forgive.  That doesn't mean that, in certain cases, there are not consequences for sin, but it means that we do not hate nor loathe the sinner--not least of all because we are sinners too, and have no right!  If a Christian ever says of anyone, "He's a monster for what he has done!  He's disgusting!" then he is out of line, because all sin is a horrible offense against God, so we may as well be looking in the mirror and seeing a monster too; and if we do, then we've no right to turn up the nose at that "other" monster, if that's how we're so determined to define another human being; which we shouldn't in the first place.

Even so, the secularists and modernists paint a picture of Christians as looking down on everyone who sins.  They claim to be more enlightened, more merciful.  The basis of this is that they, or so they say, are not so quick to judge actions as wrong.  If you feel that something is right for you, whether it's getting drunk on weekends, or having sex with whomever you want, divorcing the spouse to whom you vowed yourself for better or worse because you "just don't get along anymore," or whatever else, the modern "enlightened" world tells you "You do what you have to do to be happy.  No one can say it's wrong."  And from this, they say they are more forgiving than we terrible, bigoted Christians.

There's an obvious flaw with this logic.  How can you "forgive" something that you haven't even judged as wrong?!  If I don't even think the man and woman who have a premarital fling are sinning, how can I forgive them?  You don't forgive someone for doing something that's morally permitted in the first place; you can only forgive them precisely because there is something wrong to forgive.

The truth is, when it comes to someone who does something they do think is wrong, the modern world is more cold and unforgiving than a Puritan in Salem.  Think about it.  The biggest things that our open-minded society still condemns are those things which "infringe on someone else" in some way, especially those things that both infringe on someone else and are illegal.  And once you cross those lines, our society turns its back on you just as quickly as the leaders of one of those cult compounds surrounded by walls and barbed wire fences.  You are labeled a monster; the media openly remarks on how disgusting you are; the internet is aflame with calls for your death, preferably not before you've first been tortured in ways that would make crucifixion look tame.

Unless  you happen to be a filthy criminal offender.
Then we'd rather you "NOT EXIST".  Sorry 'bout that.

But the worst thing is this:  We Christians are often affected by it.  We buy into it too.  I've been guilty of it myself.  Think:  You can probably think of at least one crime, probably several, that makes you think of the perpetrator as vile, as a monster.  There's probably some wrong deed that immediately pops to your mind as you read this, that makes you think "Well I know that I and my loved ones are better than that!"  It's as though we need someone to look down on.  In the modern world, where we are progressively more understanding and compassionate toward sinners, which is a good thing as long as we still recognize the sin as sin, we still reserve a certain place in the darkest spots of our minds for those other sinners.  They are the sinners that we gauge as being in a totally different category from most.

In the most extreme cases of our judgmental attitude, and that of the secular world as well, we will judge sinners as monsters whose motives or intentions are not even all that different from ours, but just happen to be oriented toward a sin with greater consequences and more tragic effects.  There are sinners in prisons--and some rightfully so (to send some people to prison can be necessary to protect society, and is not inherently judgmental if it isn't coupled with disgust and hatred)--who never desired to harm anyone, whose deeds did not even arise from cruel intent or a lack of empathy, but who were simply addicted to certain sins, just like any of us; but the sins to which they have the distinct misfortune of being addicted happen to hurt people in more obvious ways than ours do.

Instead of realizing that we were simply blessed that our own temptations and struggles happen to have less obviously dire consequences, we fill ourselves with pride:  We are not merely blessed; we are better people than those terrible, vile criminals.  We would never do that.  Never mind the fact, of course, that often we don't have the faintest notion of what it's like to be tempted to do "that."  And strangely, insanely, we think that our not being tempted gives us even more of a right to look down on those who are!  As if our not being tempted is something we accomplished, and not a gift from God, "lest any man could boast!"  How prideful, how arrogant, can we be?

And what about those sinners, even, who have had harsh or cold intentions, but who have since repented?  Can any of us say we have never had cruel or spiteful motives?  Most of us, if we are honest, have probably entertained thoughts we would be horrified to have made public knowledge, in moments of anger.  Ironically, we ourselves often lack empathy toward those who commit crimes we consider especially heinous, and some of us entertain, with sadistic passion, fantasies of them "getting their just desserts."  Would we wish to be forever "branded" by those moments?  We serve a God Who once said that to sin in the heart is to have truly committed the sin (although surely to do it in actuality would be to repeat it, so that doesn't mean we "might as well do it"), so we too are guilty.  Should we not show the mercy toward even "those" sinners, as we desire mercy?

How much grace we could share with the world if we lived up to a higher standard than that of the world!  What if we Christians were truly radically forgiving, loving sinners that even the world, with all its notions of "tolerance" and "open mindedness," rejects and demonizes?  What if we could visit the "worst" sinners in prison and, although we were wise enough to protect ourselves from those clearly not yet freed from their harmful vices, we would not nurture disgust for them, but rather pity and empathy, the recognition that "If only my temptations had been different, that might have been me?"  If we did that, then perhaps we would do what the earliest Christians did:  Attract souls from the truly most marginalized and rejected members of society whom no one in the world of unbelievers was willing to love.

When Two Men Love Each Other

I read an article recently where a man told the story of how he "fell in love" with his best friend, and then started a dating relationship.  I won't deny it:  I had a thrill of delight as I read the details of how this man slowly began to realize that he cared deeply about his friend in a way that was far from casual.  As he mentioned the way that he began to light up when his best friend entered the room, the depth with which he missed his friend when they were apart, the charge that existed between them, my own heart was caught up in the tale.  And that pivotal moment when, finally, he told his best friend how he felt and, after a tense pause, his best friend actually said, to his surprise, that he felt that way too, I was happy to hear that the feelings were mutual for them.

Uh, think you managed to sound gay enough, there, buddy?
(Be sure to read that in the voice of the "Bush's Baked Beans" dog)

I couldn't share in their joy, however, in the next part of the  story, where they decided to actually date.  It's not that I don't understand the desire, but just that both my religion and my philosophy affirm that such a step is a mistake, spiritually and psychologically, and does more harm to the relationship than good.  Even so, I delighted in their feelings and affections for one another.  Far from thinking the feelings in themselves were false, I believe that they felt exactly what they claimed to feel.

But I'm not convinced that it required dating or, ultimately, sex in order to be authentically expressed.  They say that they're "in love," and I'm willing to say that by their definition they may well be.  What is their definition, however?  In the article, the author mentioned that they miss each other when not around, and that they get really excited to see each other.  If that's what it means to be in love, then I'm in love with a great many people, male and female alike!  However, I realize that this is simplifying.  So instead of assuming that they really think that's all it takes to mean you're "in love," I've looked up some quotes about what people in our society think it means to be in love, and I assume that a lot of that would define what these men felt for each other as well.

I think the following quote, from someone on Yahoo Answers, captures the common perception quite well, although it's about being "in love" in general and not specifically about two men:

"When you always want to be together, and when you're not, you're thinking about being together because you need that person; and without them, your life feels incomplete. It's when you trust the other with your life; and when you would do anything for each other. When you love someone, you want nothing more than for them to be really happy- no matter what it takes because their needs come before your own. It's when they're the last thing you think about before you go to sleep- and when they're the first thing you think of when you wake up. Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, and trusting them not to. When they're with you, your heart races. When they touch you, you get butterflies in your stomach. [...] It's when you can't get the smile off your face; and you feel like you've been touched by an angel. [...] Love is miraculous, and when you find it, don't let it go."

I don't think that anyone would dispute that, if we're talking about feelings, this is a pretty powerful representation of what often comes to mind when people in our culture think of being "in love."  This is much more detailed than the description in the article I read, but I imagine that the gentlemen from that story would nod and say "exactly!" when faced with that quote.  There was originally a part of the quote that said "When you kiss it takes your breath away" but I think that's circumstantial and could easily be replaced with other tokens of affection for the points I'm going to make, so I haven't included that part of the quote here.

Besides, something may be wrong if
kissing means needing one of these.

There are a couple of problems with the definition, as beautiful as it sounds to me.  For one thing, much this description is not actually about love, but about the feelings that are often associated with love.  These are two separate things.  Love is something you do.  Love is when you stand by someone, and make their needs a priority (the parts of the quote about actions were the most accurate in touching what love really is).  Love is commitment; it's loyalty; it's willing the good of the other.

Read the passage in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, on love:   

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.   Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 

Notice that feelings and butterflies and sentiment are not mentioned, but rather acts of the will.  Love is often accompanied and made easier by nice emotions, but the emotions are neither necessary nor reliable for love to be real.  The confusion between love and feeling is one reason we have such high divorce rates, or why friendships fall apart:  When the feelings fade and fluctuate, people think the love is gone.  But love is a choice--empowered by God, Who is Love--and that choice can be made regardless of whether the feelings match it.  

But all that said, I myself am a man of strong feeling.  Feelings are important to me.  I do not rely on them in order to tell me if I love someone, but I certainly value them and enjoy them.  I do not believe that love is defined by the feelings in the quote from Yahoo, but those feelings are still wonderful and desirable.  This brings us to the second problem with the definition, as far as someone may use it to define dating/marital love:  None of those things requires a sexual expression to be true of the relationship.  Not one.  So if these feelings are being used as a basis for why a guy should date another man, or eventually have sex with him, it's a woefully flawed basis.

Two men, or two women, or cousins, parents and children, anyone could feel all of those things for one another.  Those feelings could be just as intense between two people who have no intention of ever having sex with one another as between two same-sex "lovers."  The things described by the men in the article as well as in this Yahoo quote are things I could easily imagine being shared between two best friends, two siblings, or any other meaningful relationship.

I think it's untrue that the natural and highest fulfillment of such feelings between two people of the same gender is a relationship that must be consummated in sex.  In fact, it's false that it's ever necessary for two men to have sex in order to "consummate" their love, or fully express their feelings for that matter.  It suggests that  love or feelings between two men who are not having sex are somehow incomplete because of what they don't do with their sex organs; that, no matter how devoted to each other two men (or two women) are, or how deeply they feel for each other, their relationship would still be lacking something, because if sex is necessary to "consummate" same-gender love or express their feelings, this would mean by default that two men who love each other but aren't having sex are falling short of that.

And that would be rubbish.

And evidently there should be a fine for it.

Two men can share their hearts, they can afford one another a full look into a place far more intimate than their bodies:  Their very souls.  They can share a tenderness and affection that expresses their feelings and care more deeply than sex ever could.  They can cultivate a trust that is as profound as any that so-called "lovers" can experience.  They can realize that, even when they are apart and are not interacting in any way, they are with one another, part of each other, their lives irrevocably intertwined.  And most importantly, they can do all the things for one another that define love.  It's something that sex could not possibly offer any improvement upon.  There is no need for that sort of "consummation"--if by that word we mean the highest expression of love that can exist between men--because there is a spiritual and devotional "consummation" between them that is at once chaste and without lack.

David, the Biblical King and hero, once lamented of his recently fallen friend Jonathan:

"I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother!  Most dear have you been to me; More precious have I held love for you than love for women."

When a Biblical hero pays such a tribute to the love that can exist between men--and scripture shows no hint of disapproval--there is little doubt that the love between two men, and indeed their feelings as well (although the feelings come and go, and should never be the primary thing), can be so precious that the act of sex could add nothing in intimacy or intensity that their love and affection do not already have.   That's what it means to me when two men love each other.  It's a beautiful thing.

H-Words: Hypocrisy Vs. Honesty

Closely related to my last post, I'm sure that I'm not the only person who knows this feeling:  You're a practicing Christian, who really takes your faith seriously.  You don't believe in picking and choosing which parts of your religion to believe in, so if the Scriptures and Church say that something is wrong, then you accept that.  Not only do you accept it but, taking seriously your Christian duty to share the truth with others, you strive to warn others that these sins lead to destruction and eternal loss.  But there's something that scares you.  You too are a sinner.  Some of the very things you warn others not to do, you do yourself.  You know, all too well, that the modern world has a word for people like you:  "Hypocrite."  "Who are you to tell anybody right from wrong?" they'll ask, "You do the same thing you condemn!  You hypocrite!"

Suddenly, your credibility has been called into question, and the very thing you wanted to accomplish--being a witness for Christ--seems to have been sabotaged in one single insult.  Are your accusers right?  Jesus did a lot of preaching against hypocrisy.  That was one of the titles He applied to the Pharisees and religious leaders of His day with righteous abandon.

Sounds like a rock band:  Get your tickets to see "Righteous Abandon" live!

Actually, the "H" word is used way too lightly these days.  It's nonsense to say that anybody who does X has no right to say that "X is a sin."  If that were the case, the only way you could avoid being a hypocrite would be to think you were perfect.  Think about it, if you never say that anything you do is a sin, the implication is that you don't sin.  The irony of this is that that's exactly what the Pharisees did.  That's right:  The people that Jesus called hypocrites were doing the exact opposite of those against whom the word is often used today.  The Pharisees didn't condemn sins like pride and hardness of heart, in spite of the fact that they did those sins.  No, they conveniently ignored the duty to speak out against those things, and focused only on condemning sins that they didn't struggle with.

To be sure, there is a kind of hypocrisy that involves criticizing others for doing something you yourself do, but that's only if you think the rules to which you hold others don't apply to you.  If I struggle with kleptomania and steal everything in sight, it doesn't make me a hypocrite if I simply warn others that stealing is wrong.  It makes me a hypocrite if I insist that it's wrong when others do it but not when I do it; or if I say that thieves should all be punished by law, but yet if I get caught, I backtrack and say that I am a special exception, rather than admitting that I deserve the same punishment that I say anyone else should get.  Religiously, I am a hypocrite if I tell other people they may go to hell for a sin if they never repent, but I think that if I died without repenting of that same sin "God will understand."  Basically, you're not a hypocrite just because you commit the sins you preach against, but only if you have a double standard about whether it's wrong when you're the one committing it.  Otherwise, it's not hypocrisy; it's another "H" word:  Honesty, namely about right versus wrong. 

It's true that Jesus said we should remove the beam from our own eyes before attempting to pull the speck out of our brother's.  However, this is something very practical.  This has less to do with telling your brother he's sinning--if he is, that's a fact, and there is no hypocrisy in saying so--and far more to do with attempting to "fix" your brother when you yourself have issues of your own.  If I struggle with alcoholism, for example, it's okay to tell my fellow alcoholic that drunkenness is a sin.  But until I myself have conquered my own habit through God's Grace, it just stands to reason that I can't hope to show my brother, or especially a sinner less overwhelmed by his sins, "how it's done."  How can I, if I haven't done it myself?  But that doesn't mean I'm doing my brother a disservice in calling a spade a spade...just as long as I realize it's a spade in my own life too.

Hey, if I call this a spade, but I inwardly mean the playing card,
does it count as a lie?

This is especially relevant to me.  Some of the sins that have claimed me time and again, in some capacity or other, are hot-button issues in our culture today.  They are precisely the sort of sins that people who hate the Church's values love to dig up on Christians, so as to invalidate the message of a believer who happens to be exactly what he says he is:  A fellow sinner.

I hope, as time goes on, to have the courage to speak the truth openly (in love, of course), even when I myself have sinned against that truth.  Because honestly, which is more selfish?  To tell people that a certain path leads to destruction even if I myself have a tendency to flirt with that destruction, or to decide that, if I'm willing to risk my soul, I shouldn't warn anyone else of that risk?

Jesus: Friend of Sinners, but Enemy of Pride

Recent events have many people in orthodox Catholic circles discussing the old standby:  The question of whether Jesus would speak out strongly against the rampant sin of today's society, or whether He would "eat with sinners" while only publicly reprimanding the religious elite.  After all, the argument goes, Jesus was always gentle with the prostitutes, fornicators, adulterers and the like, while he spoke in scathing terms against the Pharisees and experts on religious law.  To the sinners whom society rejected, He patiently said "Go and sin no more," while He made no end of deriding the "doctors and lawyers" who were supposed to be "upstanding citizens."

My prescription is that you be more like me and less like
a terrible, good-for-nothing sinner.  (Okay, wrong "doctor")

The way that people interpret this, often enough, is that the "mean, self-righteous" hierarchy of the Catholic Church, as well as those Catholics who dare to take the Catholic Church's teachings seriously, are the ones whom Jesus would criticize most openly today.  The people marching in the gay pride parades, the atheists who spew nothing but vitriol to Christianity, the celebrities selling sex to the highest bidder, all of these, it is presumed, would be handled with kid gloves by Jesus, just as he was cordial to the downtrodden, guilt-ridden sinners of His own day.

There is one significant problem with this presumption:  Many of these groups, in today's cultural context, are a far cry from the equivalent in Biblical times.  When our Lord walked the earth, the quintessential prostitutes and tax collectors were not outspoken mouthpieces for the subversion of traditional morality.  The sinners with whom Jesus ate, by every indication, were not rallying for their sins to be accepted and promoted by society.  In fact, it is reasonable to assume, in such a conservative society as ancient Israel, that these were sinners who knew they were sinners.  Yes, they persisted in their sins, quite probably, but in every instance where we actually get to see a detailed interaction between these sinners and Jesus, they humbly admitted that they were sinners.  These were not open critics of religion or traditional moral values.  These were the sinners, like in the parable of the pharisee and the tax collectors, who contritely hoped that God would "have mercy on me a sinner."

On the other hand, the Pharisees, as we so often seem to forget, were sinners too.  We often say "Jesus ate with sinners, but was angry at the Pharisees," as if the Pharisees weren't sinners.  What, however, was the sin of the Pharisees?  Why did Jesus treat them with less respect and gentleness than the other sinners?  The answer is obvious:  Pride.  In Jesus' day, a prostitute knew she was sinning.  An adulterer knew he had done wrong.  But a religious figure, a Pharisee or a priest, they committed sins of arrogance and callousness, and had the audacity to insist that they were righteous, as though their sins weren't sins.

Tell me, when we observe the crowd of today's times who attack traditional values, or the unbelievers who openly mock people of faith, which sinners does their attitude better reflect?  Are they like a poor, ashamed sinner in first century Israel?  Or are they more like the Pharisees, smugly insisting that they are righteous in their deeds, while mocking anyone who would dare to question their superior judgment and knowledge?  For a relevant example from present-day, is a gay activist who calls anyone who disagrees with him a "bigot," really the same as the woman caught in adultery, humbly listening when Jesus said to "go and sin no more," implying that he does concede that his actions are wrong?  Or does he behave with the self-assurance of the religious leaders of Christ's day, thinking himself of superior character to those he calls "bigots" just as surely as a Pharisee found himself superior to fornicators?

Dear God/Universe/Inner-Self/Brain,
I thank Thee that I am not like those bigots at the church down the street,
Nor like those simpleminded religious folks who are ruining this world.

Don't get me wrong.  There are still plenty of self-righteous people on the religious side of things.  There are still "devout" Catholics who look down on others who sin in ways they consider dirty or gross, especially on those whose sins include sexuality or drunkenness.  I've seen it myself.  As a man with same sex attractions, I have personally encountered those who, no doubt with upturned noses, insist that if I fall to my temptations that I am far worse than they are if they fall to their conveniently different temptations.  The brand of Pharisee-ism that lived in Jesus' day is still alive and well in religious establishments the world over, and will probably thrive in some capacity until the end of time.  

Likewise, there are still plenty of us who struggle with sexual sins, or perhaps sins against sobriety, and other sins that the aforementioned self-righteous people traditionally look down on, who are as willing to admit that we are sinful--that we are in the wrong, and need to change--as any prostitute in Jesus' day might have admitted.  So it's not as though the tables are totally turned, so that now the traditionally shamed sinners are suddenly all Pharisees, and those who were once Pharisees are now all poor humbled sinners.  

Still, we mustn't believe that Jesus would have gone soft on the downtrodden sinners of His day if they had been prideful, when His treatment of the Pharisees shows exactly what He thought of pride.  If the tax-collectors and "unclean" sinners of His day had been just as willfully blind to their own faults--while judging the faults of others--as the Pharisees, there is no reason whatsoever to believe that He would not have shown them the same tough brand of love that He showed the Pharisees (and He did love them:  So much that He later prayed "forgive them, for they know not what they do").  

Now, I'm not saying that we should all be so bold as to give prideful "I'm so much better than you" sinners a good tongue-lashing the way Jesus did.  I don't doubt that some Catholics are called to that, as some of the great saints certainly weren't afraid to break out the harsh words.  Still, that doesn't mean we're all equipped with the talent for it, nor the wisdom to know when it wouldn't do more harm than good.  But either way, we are also not called to pretend that just because a sinner's material sins may be the same as those whom Jesus handled with great care, that the sinner himself is more like those sinners and not, in fact, like the pharisees.

Pride is the worst of sins, the sin that caused the rebellion in Heaven that gave us demons and the devil himself.  It is snobbish pride, not any other brand of sin, that caused Jesus to be so harsh on the Pharisees.  Because such pride always needs to be taken down a notch.  And whether you're the sort of sinner who would fit right at home with the scribes and lawyers 2000 years ago, or whether you'd fit in more at a brothel or a bar, if you have the sort of pride that leads you to deny your own sinfulness while smugly looking down on those whose sins are different from your own, you have just as much to worry about as the chief priest himself did while our Lord walked the earth.  

A Prayer for Vindication

Dear God in Highest Heaven,

We trust to Thy mercy, now as ever, the souls of those men and women who have lost their lives by the hand of the evil one;

So too we offer our prayers for their loved ones, left alone and bereaved, that they may always find more peace and consolation.

The enemy destroyed their bodies, Lord, and the vessels of his wrath dared call it a service to God!
But Thou, the One and Only God, can snatch victory from the talons of the enemy,
For although he saw these brethren killed in body, Thou canst see to it that eternal death shall not claim them;

Thou canst see the enemy fall into rage and despair that he could not kill the souls of those whose bodies he treated with such ill regard!

How long, Lord, must your servants await vindication?
We know that the enemies against whom we fight the war are not flesh and blood; 

Against our fellow man we do not ask revenge, nor do we seek the destruction of mortals.

But who shall avenge us against the true enemy of all humanity, the serpent, the devil?
Who shall vindicate us against the prince of darkness and his fallen angels?

Who shall see them reduced from their pride and their victory, made desolate so that they shall cry tears?

Who shall see them made low, the dragon reduced to a worm, his elite soldiers made into beggars?

Who shall see the powers of hell, which roar so that the foundations of the world are shaken,

Made impotent so that their roar becomes a whimper?

Who indeed shall cut out their fangs, shatter their swords, and bind them in flame and darkness as they once bound the helpless?

It is God on High, the Lord of Hosts!  Thou shalt repay their atrocities in kind!  

Thou shalt come in a cloud of glory with thy celestial army, a Mighty Lion leading a host of giants,
So that the dragons look small in Thy presence!
Thou shalt roar, and they shall be deafened!

Thou shalt strike, and they shall be dashed asunder!

Thou shalt bind, and they shall never be loosed!

Thou shalt win victory after victory, until the world shall look upon Thee in praise, singing 

"Blessed is the Lord, Who has delivered us from the hands of so great an enemy!"

Then shall the Lamb of God, His Likeness and His Glory, shine brighter than the brightest star,
And the Spirit of God shall dwell in His people.
Then shall they dwell at peace, One God and One People, and we shall be ever with Thee, our God!

For this we ache, we pray; we wait in confidence, even as we implore with great longing!

In the name of Jesus Christ we pray, and by the power of the Holy Spirit we entreat Thee, Almighty Father,
Until the Day of the Lord comes upon us.

Amen.

Unto Us a Son is Given

Yesterday, my second child and my very first son was born.

This is neither me nor my son, but isn't he adorable all the same?!

You'll recall from a previous post that I was worried about how it would go.  I worried that I would immediately descend into an anxious, depressed state and be trapped inside my own lonely world, isolated from my wife and from my child.

I'm happy to say that none of those fears have come to pass.  This has been a powerful experience, and if ever there is any testament to the healing I've made in the past year, it's that this birth has been far more uplifting and joyous than the first experience we had.  Some of that healing has been physical:  My anti-depressant medication, for which I thank God, has no doubt resolved some of the physical causes for the depression.  Some of that healing has been mental:  Seventeen months of raising a child, and simply having gone through the birth experience before, has left me better prepared for what comes with it, and we've lived and learned from our mistakes the first time around.  Finally, all of this has to do with spiritual healing, the Grace of God raining upon us and helping us through this.

Whatever can be said about the sources of my healing, the difference between this birth experience and the first is like night and day.  The first time, I was numb and withdrawn.  I resented my situation, I resented fatherhood, and I dreaded life.  This time, I'm excited about the journey to come; I'm cherishing the days to come, and looking forward to getting to know my son better and to care for him.

I know that there probably seems to be a dark side to this.  It may seem like my poor daughter has gotten the proverbial short end of the stick; and I think, to my great shame--this is seriously not an easy thing for me to admit--it really was like that for months after her birth.  I think that it all made it harder for me to connect with her and to realize how blessed I was.

It's elementary, my dear fellow:  You're a terrible parent.

My sweet baby girl, if the day ever comes that this blog is still active, and you read these words, know that you are loved just as much as your brother, or any other siblings you have.  Your father was affected by forces beyond your control.  You were a wonderful baby, and everyone always commented on how good you were (and are as I type these words).  A wise woman who has worked with countless babies, in fact, has said that you are one of the top three babies, for being easy to work with and look after, that she has ever seen.  Be proud in that, and know that you are so easily lovable.

The thing is, now that my son is here, it has impacted everything for the better.  I am more excited about fatherhood itself than I have been, and the important thing is that this excitement is not limited to my relationship with my son.  Having a better birth experience this time around has given me a better sense of how special this role is, period.  That includes with my daughter.  It's like I realize, now, what I've had all along, and as ashamed as I am of not having recognized it--emotionally speaking--sooner than this, I'm grateful that I've realized it now.  Now, while my daughter still hasn't possessed the gift of speech, while her young memories are still in formation.

It's a funny thing.  I had worried that, if this birth went more smoothly than the last, I might end up showing favoritism, and like my son more than my daughter, due to having easier, less traumatic memories to look back on surrounding his birth.  On the contrary, I have learned to look at my daughter in a new light, so that now I feel more connected with her than before.  Oh, I know that when I return to the daily routine at home, putting these realizations into practice will not be a piece of cake.  I expect to get bored with parenthood, to have a difficult time motivating myself, just as has been the case before.  I think that happens to most parents.  But something has changed.  My attitude, my sense of how blessed I am, and what an honor it is to be a parent.  Not just any parent, but the parent of these children, son and daughter.

And by that, I think that I'll be a little better at loving both of my children (and any future children) with all the fierceness and dedication they deserve.  It won't be perfect.  It won't be simple.  It'll be messy.  But it will be real.