In my Vatican II course, I was given insight about why “sex” is so hush-hush in the Church—or at least appears to be so from the outside looking in. In the days of old, seminarians were taught in Latin, even if they didn’t know what it meant. When they studied the Decalogue, the commandments regarding sexual morality were listed as the sixth (sextus) and ninth (nonus) commandments (not the order in which they are commonly written today) and usually kept in Latin to deter emphasis on them. Sextus et Nonus. “Sex is a no-no.” Voilà.

In my local parish scripture study, our little Irish priest was giving us a reference to 1 Corinthians 9:1-7 in which Paul is ranting about liberties:

 Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? Are you not my work in the Lord? If to others I am not an apostle, at least I am to you; for you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord.

My defense to those who examine me is this: Do we not have a right to eat and drink? Do we not have a right to take along a believing wife, even as the rest of the apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas? Or do only Barnabas and I not have a right to refrain from working? Who at any time serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard and does not eat the fruit of it? Or who tends a flock and does not use the milk of the flock?

This passage came up in the context of studying what could be the second female disciple of Christ: Simon’s (Peter’s) mother-in-law healed from her fever in Mark 1:30-31. (Mary is the first disciple, of course.) Simon Peter (Peter = “rock” = “Cephas”) was apparently married as were other apostles as the above passage mentions. It is partially incorrect to say that priestly celibacy descends from apostolic origin; Paul himself wavered on the subject in his earlier letters when he was more convinced that Parousia was likely to happen sooner rather than later.  But as our priest put it upon the reading of Corinthians, “Quick! Write letters to Benedict immediately!” with a chuckle.

Behind his sarcastic laughter was an almost unnoticeable sign of despair, maybe loneliness? And I felt for him because I’ve seen this look among some of the seminarians and even some priests. A life of celibacy is a huge committment. Giving up the temptations of the flesh is one thing, but religious celibacy is a marriage to the Lord and adultery, as we find in the Sextus Praeceptum: “Nec concupisces uxorem proximi tui”  Deut. 5: 6-21 (i.e., you shall not commit adultery), is a no-no.

As a lay person, with an aspiring vocation to family life, it seems as though I should have no say in religious celibacy, but I fully support it. For those who truly love their spouses really understand the meaning of sacrifice. They would do anything for their better halves: the flesh of their flesh. In a family vocation, spouses and children come first. Why should this be any different in a religious vocation?

Should the Lord’s testing ever begin, I would prefer my priest to have no distractions if possible. I wouldn’t want him to put his “wife” before his duty to God. As selfish as it sounds, I want my shepherd tending the whole flock and not have one or two sheep set before the rest of us in the pasture. As noble as his intentions may be, would he be able to sacrifice his own life as willingly for God if he also supported an earthly mate? Would that be fair to the wife? And if they had children? I know it’s never quite fair to set the premise in hypotheticals but faith is not an empirical subject matter.

Of course, I have been acquainted with a married priest or two (those who convert to Catholicism, usually from the Episcopal or Lutheran church). I applaud their ability to do their work and trust that they are no less noble in their pastoral duty. But priestly celibacy is such a sweet reminder of the tremendous vocation and the great faith that these men have and a constant reminder to what my own vocation entails. Do I live my own vocation with such sacrifice and conviction as these men do?

It was a little uncanny that I happened to be reading up on commentary about the Gospel of Matthew, in particularly about Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River.  In addition to its own Dead Sea, Salt Lake City has a Jordan River, too, that flows from South to North (one of only two rivers in the world to do so).  Just a little trivia there for you.

After a three-day trip for work to Salt Lake City, I got to visit with my oldest brother, B—, for a day in Denver, as it was a lay-over spot for returning home to Houston. I hadn’t seen B— in about a year and a half.  Apparently, he and his second wife are divorcing, so the timing of my trip was welcomed as he is in the process of moving out, but until his new place is ready to receive him, he looks for ways to get out.

We got to hang out in the downtown center of Denver, which neither of us had really discovered.  We’d both been there for various reasons (he more often than I, of course) and we had a blast. It was nice catching up with him but I couldn’t help noticing the sadness that sort of lingered over him.

When we talked about relationships, he was happy for mine and disappointed in his. I gave him dating advice for his newly single life, which is ironic considering he is 10 years older than me. I always had this memory of him being a slickster when I was a child because it seemed like he always had girls calling him or he was bringing home a new girlfriend. But, in fact, that wasn’t the case. I learned that his high school girlfriend was with him for two years. That shows how unreliable my memory is! I also learned that he had never had the gall to ask a girl out that he didn’t already know from school, or in recent times, from work. He’s never been on a real date! Here it is, 30-something years into my life, and I just find out this juicy morsel of information now?!

That’s where I was able to offer all sorts of advice. Of course, I wasn’t suggesting that he date anytime soon, but when he’s good and ready for it (and considering that he doesn’t share the same religious beliefs that I do), I had a thing or two to say about how to ask a girl on a date. I felt a little proud that I could be of some use to my older brother. After all, we are the only two siblings in our family to have gone through divorce.

I also learned that he had never really experienced true ethnic cuisine.  So I took him to a Brazilian churrasceria for an elegant night on the town and we stayed at a hip hotel, pop-culture and all.

It had been just short of a week since I’d been home and I missed I—. He wasn’t feeling well physically before I left, but apparently he just “broke” on the day I was to return. He couldn’t sit, stand or walk. He was in extreme agony from his sciatic nerve (sciatica). When I called him from the airport in Denver to confirm the pick-up, he was in such pain, I started crying for him in the waiting area. So my trip home was saddened. I took a taxi home from the airport, which is always a strange experience in your hometown (unless you live on the East Coast).

When I got home, I felt so helpless. I tried hard not to let him see me cry myself to sleep because I wasn’t the focus. He was miserable and the pain was so unbearable for him. He was so frustrated because he knew this was going to interfere with his work, which he could ill-afford to not do. 

This, I think, is the first time since my father was alive, that I felt utterly helpless. There was nothing I could do or say that would put his pain or his mind at ease. Unless there’s emergency surgery, there isn’t a way to relieve sciatic nerve pain other than time. Pain medications don’t offer much relief. It hurts very much to watch someone you love suffer. I keep reminding myself that suffering helps us to appreciate mercy, to appreciate our health.

On Sunday, the Gospel (Mark) relayed the story of John the Baptist and Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. And the priest’s homily reflected upon why John the Baptist called for repentance—metanoia—a “changing of the heart/attitude.” He used an analogy of caring for a loved one who is sick. All of a sudden, your priorities change, your attitude changes, your heart changes. Selfish ways become ways of servitude and love. And so it is.

For now, we’re taking it day-by-day. I— got his MRI and he’s waiting on test results. Each day, though, he’s been able to stand or walk a little, tiny bit more. By this week’s end, he should have a final diagnosis (he’s betting on a herniated spinal disc) and should have a better outlook for relief.

Keep him in your prayers, if you will, and also myself, as I need the strength to keep him hopeful.

St. Vitus, ora pro nobis.

“Again you have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘Do not take a false oath, but make good to the Lord all that you vow.’  But I say to you, do not swear at all; not by heaven, for it is God’s throne; nor by the earth, for it is his footstool; nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Do not swear by your head, for you cannot make a single hair white or black. Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the evil one.”

Based on the commentary I was studying, Jesus teaches that using a substitute for “God” to swear by has the same gist of the original intention. Somehow, after hypothetical examples of what one’s “word” should mean and what an atheist would say and intend, I made the comment that we should always aspire to be perfect in our words and meanings (cf. Matt. 5:48). I—’s reply (sarcastically said) was that if someone would consult God on every thought and decision made, then they should be a priest or nun, and that if I was like that, we’d need to reassess the relationship.

I responded that I aspire to be a saint (because a saint is someone who is in heaven) and then we began chatting about why it matters if the Church declares one to be a saint—another story for another time.

But I thought about his comment. I don’t consult God for all the decisions I make. That is my free will and my sin. I wonder why I don’t consult more often, though. It’s not that I want God to make my decisions for me, but rather that God should  be at the forefront of my mind when I do make my choices, not because I fear his judgement or that he’s “telling” me what to do, but because I love the Lord so much that I want my choices to please him.

Understandably, I know that sounds cheesy and cult-ish. But my heart almost hurts, it makes me teary-eyed, when I think of my offenses against him. And I know this isn’t a point that most can relate to, necessarily: to love something so whole-heartedly that you want your very existence to be an expression of honor to and a love of them.

I can’t explain why I have this incessant and aching desire to be holy. And by “holy”, I don’t mean becoming a nun (although I did discern that option once in my life). Holiness is being the best of who you were originally created to be: an image, a reflection of divinity itself.

If I reflect God, then I have to love. If I love, it has to be unconditional. It has to be hopeful. It has to be helplessly poor-in-spirit. It has to be merciful. That doesn’t mean that this is how I will always be because, sadly, my humanity prevents it from being so, but I can try. And trying means that I have to aspire to hold the Lord in my thoughts, in my words, and in my heart—every day, all the time, not just on Sunday.

On a cool January morning, around 5:45 am, my sister and I sat up in the bed and stared at each other’s silhouettes in the dark. We had fallen asleep with our mother the night before and now she was snoring ferociously, it seemed, like she had never snored before. I can’t really recall who turned on the lights. . . I imagine it was my sister since she slept closer to the switch. We tried to wake her, but her face was turning purple and her eyes were rolling back into her head.

We ran upstairs to wake up our brothers. They called 911. I only remember chaos after that. I remember one of my brothers, the younger, putting his head on her chest and crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. Then my father arrived shortly after the paramedics. I caught glimpses of them performing CPR, but there were too many people. I stayed out of the way.

A few hours later, my father returned home again. He mentioned that she had gained consciousness at the hospital, he said he loved her. But then, a doctor knocked on our door, told us she hadn’t survived. (I’m still in awe that the doctor made a personal trip to our house to deliver the news.) It was an aneurysm, brought on from a blood clot that blocked her lungs.

I was only eight. And I would grow up from this moment on.

It isn’t that I lost my mother. I lost a significant portion of my family. A few months after her death, my siblings left me to go live with their father out-of-state. My maternal aunts, uncles, grandparents, with the exception of one, lost touch, never took much interest or made much effort to see me. It was my father and me. I have so little memory of her at all.

I also lost my identity, in a manner of speaking, because I had to improvise my femininity. I picked up learning about my gender and its expectations from friends at school or television. I still struggle with it at times.

For years, I held my anger at God for the circumstance. I was even angry at her, perhaps as if she could have helped it. Then, I imagined that if sadness exists on the other side of our reality, perhaps she is sad and angry, too.

As cliché as it sounds, though, I fumbled my path and found my faith with the help of the Blessed Mother. When I first lamented from my atheistic folly, I wept into her lap, at the foot of the cross. Understanding her joys, her sorrows, made me understand my own and I learned to accept them with an open heart and without shame. I know that many Catholics understand this mystery, but so many that I know do not. It seems so silly from their perspective. But faith, hope, love, patience, obedience, humility, perseverance, temperance, each of them, hers and desirably mine. Each of them repairing my broken heart, preparing me for her son, who seeps in through the cracks and fulfils the abysmal regions of my soul with a brillant flame.

In reflection, my mother gave me a great gift. . . she revealed a narrow path. And with a mother or not, everyone has to find their own and tread it alone.

Rest in peace, mom.

My first action was to quickly say a prayer, recite a Hail Mary. Then, I quickly emailed a priest-friend and some seminarians to request prayers. Fortunately, they offered condolences and reassured me that he and his family would be lifted in their prayers during a retreat. Father L—, who happens to be abroad in Naples, said he would say a Mass for him at the tomb of St. Januarius (Gennaro), a saint often appealed to for desperate causes.

Then, once I secured help in prayerful support, I could only reflect on the desperation that S— must have felt. My ex admitted that he was at first shocked and then angry with him for doing this. “Sometimes he could just get so stuck,” he stated. “There are always other options.” I don’t know about the circumstances leading up to this act, but I know he leaves behind a wife and a daughter. I know he committed suicide by a gun to the head, in a motel room.

S— was extremely talented and successful. He had gotten himself into criminal trouble when he was barely out of his teens, but he managed to resiliently bounce back from it, owned his own business and supported his family. He was my ex’s childhood friend and I know that saddens my ex more than he probably would care to admit.

In my recent course on Roman Catholic Morality, suicide in and of itself is gravely immoral, but I learned that the circumstances may lighten the gravity of culpability. I know that S— mentally had a troubled past. I know he was sometimes extreme. But even so, I hope, pray, that he finds his peace with the Lord. I also pray that his estranged wife and young daughter make their own peace with this.

I trust in God. I trust in his mercy, for both the living and the dead.

May the Divine assistance remain always with us, and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us, and increase Your mercy in us, so that in difficult moments we might not despair, nor become despondent, but with great confidence, submit ourselves to Your Holy Will, which is Love and Mercy itself. Amen

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui Iesus. Sancta Maria mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen

The list I posted:

• Adhere more strictly to my diet. Didn’t happen like I imagined. Added to the 2012 list.
• Start a  trend of fasting every First Friday. I held quick to this resolution for January and February, but by March, I believe, I had completely forgotten about the fasting part. Perhaps this was a little too ambitious? Maybe I will add some other trend of performing an act of penance (abstinence from meat, almsgiving, etc.) on every Friday instead.
• Spend an hour of Eucharistic Adoration on First Fridays. Again, I was true to this cause for the first couple of months. My relocation to Houston, however, took me away from close proximity to the Eucharist, literally and metaphorically speaking. I will have to correct this in 2012.
• Commit to at least five (different) novenae throughout the year. I think I might have worked on three: St. Thomas, St. Joseph, and St. Blaise.
• Pass my Adult ESL student onto the next level. I was satisfied that this was accomplished, however, the “next level” is contingent upon their own motivation to keep at it. What I didn’t realize was how much I would miss them by moving.
• Pay off a credit card.  I did do this, but the lack of payment didn’t last long, as September was brutal (transmission had to be rebuilt, school textbooks had to be ordered, etc.)  Frankly, I think having a healthy debt is ok and helps credit as long as it’s paid on generously. I don’t know that I’ll keep this as a goal in 2012 since I don’t think it will realistically happen, nor be a priority.
• Move home to Houston (including a new job). I am home in Houston and loving every second of it. I also have a new job which I’m quite satisfied with and hope that my employer is equally satisfied with me.
• Return to graduate school for Theology. Done and in progress.
• Resolve the mystery of my dog’s UTI. I don’t know that it was truly resolved, but it hasn’t recurred since early 2011. He kept forming urine crystals in his bladder, which would block his urethra. Painful, poor pup, but he’s doing great, now, only dealing with old-age arthritis and grumpiness.
• See my sister and niece and possibly brother(s). I got to visit my sister and niece on a business trip in May. I didn’t see my brothers, though I came close when I was traveling to San Francisco in July. I am going to attempt to see one of them in Colorado in January, weather permitting, and I am planning a family vacation in early June (after school’s out) for visiting my sister again.
• Meet at least three new people. Since I’m in school and started a new job, I think this was fulfilled sevenfold.
• Improve someone else’s lot in life, even if just a little. I’m working on it. . . and who knows, maybe I did and didn’t even know it.
• When I move, find a ministry to be involved with and/or a volunteer project. Hasn’t happened, much to my disappointment. Time escapes me between work and school. Of course, I did add Scripture Study to my weekly routine.
• Finish three books, of my own choosing. I finished lots of books, but not of my own choosing. I have about five lined up, though.
• Cheer on my playoff, Super Bowl-bound Houston Texans in 2011-12. Well, call me a psychic. They may not be headed to the Super Bowl (yet), but they are in the playoffs.  I think I’ll keep this resolution for 2012-13.

Overall, I think I had much success despite losing ground on some resolutions. My life has a completely different landscape today and one that I am in a position to influence much more than a year ago.  Here’s my resolutions/bucket list, aside from those I renewed above, for 2012:

• Drop 40 lbs (At least enough to look better in a bathing suit.)
• Volunteer in the summer
• Go fishing
• Do a better job at keeping up with haircuts (The time just flies, as I mentioned.)
• Attend a training camp for the Texans
• Get better organized at managing projects
• Read the Gospel of John (I’m taking a course in the Spring on the Synoptics, but John is very rich in metaphor. I want desperately to study it!)
• Help out in any way I can at the parish, or in the diocese
• Stay in better touch with my friends, especially those who are back in Austin
• Focus on hope

Happy New Year!

I brought a friend with me, who hadn’t been to confession, or even a Mass, in many months. She’s proud to be Catholic and relies a little too much on the “that’s the way I was raised” mentality of Catholicism. She confided in me that she could not figure out why she was so reluctant to go to events like this, or even to Mass on Sundays, but she always felt happier once she stepped foot into the building and was glad that she came. I confided in her that although I never miss a Sunday Mass, I still find myself reluctant to go, too, so great is the stain of sin.

If you’ve never been to a penance service, there’s ups and downs to it. You go in for a quick, ceremonial prayer and Gospel reading and then you divvy up into individual confession lines around the church (out of earshot, of course, of other penitents). I prefer them, however, to scheduled confessions. On the upside, there’s relatively a lot of people in attendance (well, more so than on a typical Saturday). They are seasonal, usually during Lent and during Advent. . . maybe for other special occasions, too. There are several “guest” priests on hand, so there isn’t a terribly long line to confess. You can walk into one at any Catholic Church that happens to be hosting a service—you don’t have to be a parishioner of that church because the service is one of convenience. And it’s humbling that you are exposing yourself to others. . .showing that you are a sinner and, in turn, you get to see all the other sinners, too, to remind yourself that you aren’t the only one.

On the down side, the priests don’t know you like your parish priest might know you, so they cannot “customize” their advice to your situation as much. For example, one piece of advice I received from the visiting confessor last night was to focus more on quality prayer time and almsgiving to the poor. And I will do more of that, but what he didn’t know is that I pray all the time and recite the Rosary in prayerful meditation at least six days a week. And I give not only my money, but also my talents when I can, to charitable causes. I wish I could give my more of my life to these. Hold the sarcastic remarks because I know that I could if I really want to live the life of a saint. I think, though, that this is the reason I am undertaking my theological studies on my own time, with my own money and resources. Not because I plan to change careers, but so that I might be of more use to the Church when I’m done.

Nevertheless, I don’t intend to criticize the priest, in persona Christae, regarding my penance. I’m very grateful for the “light” sentence I received (said with a slight grin). And I am extremely grateful for his service to the priesthood, for giving his life to saving mine. I stared hard at the crucifix last night, trying hard to focus on the most precious bones of our Lord, and found myself teary-eyed at the entire phenomenon of the sacrament of Reconciliation. For as the Risen Christ said to his disciples, “If you forgive the sins of any, their sins have been forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they have been retained” (Jn 20:23).

Something the resident pastor said at the beginning of the service was very beautiful to me. He was speculating in his brief homily on the need for Confession. The fact that the modern world has lost its sense of sin is a different matter, but he discussed the need for a savior to save us from our “out-of-control” lives.

Of course, he mentioned, we don’t feel out of control. That’s probably why we don’t feel like we need to be saved.

He said the best way he could describe the need for the sacrament of reconciliation is to imagine a pool and you’re happily splashing about with your friends when a lifeguard jumps in, swims to you and declares, “I’m here to save you.” You look at him like he’s crazy, thank him for his sincere intentions, but you reply, “I don’t need you, I’m pretty sure I can do this on my own.” And when he’s gone, you laugh at him with your friends.

A few minutes later, however, you find yourself paralyzed from horseplay and you begin to drown. And the lifeguard jumps in and catches you and says, “I’m here to save you.” What, then, are your feelings about handling it on your own?

Heaven knows I constantly put my own will before His. I don’t know why I feel like I can control anything. Often, though, I am guilty of focusing too much on the sin and not enough on the saving. I have to remember that if I don’t keep my eye on the land at the horizon, I get lost at sea.

“The highest truths cannot be forced into the type of empirical evidence that only applies to material reality.” – Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth

As a reminder, my two graduate courses included Documents of Vatican II, attended mostly by upper-class seminarians and six lay men and women, and Principles of Morality—attended by first year graduates and upper-class undergraduates. And in addition to these classes, I was also attending weekly Bible study/lectures at my parish on the theme of Symposia (Meal Scenes) in the Gospel of Luke.

#1: Humanae vitae was a lot more controversial inside the Church than most people realize. HV was the encyclical by Pope Paul VI that discusses the Church’s stance on the regulation of birth (birth control). With all the change in the atmosphere during the 1960s, many people expected that the Church would reverse its teaching on birth control. In fact, many seminarians at the time, according to my professor (who was a seminarian in the 1960s), were told not to emphasize much on their vow of celibacy because it was likely to change with the outcome of Vatican II.  But, in fact, that did not happen. Despite tremendous pressure to do so, Paul VI decided not to reverse the teaching against artificial contraception, but did open the possibility of regulating birth based on natural means: Natural Family Planning.  Some were so infused by his refusal to reverse the teaching, that many devout Catholics publicly protested.  According to many priests, they were torn between what was really happening among their parishioners and what the Magisterium taught. Some Catholics, even to this day, refuse to acknowledge the Church’s teaching on it and don’t even regularly confess to their practice of it because they refuse to acknowledge it as sinful.

#2: Pope John XXIII was a jolly, funny man and wise as could be. Prior to John XXIII, virtually all popes in the decades (centuries?) before him were of aristocratic background. He was a poor pope, but no less holy. His announcement of the Second Vatican Council shortly after his election came as a shock. Most of the clergy believed it would just be an extension of the First Vatican Council, but once the call for input came out (an act never before feated for a Council), many began to fear. He received so many request to delay the Council, but annoyed at the clergy’s fears, in response to each request he received, he instead moved the start date of the Council forward instead. Apparently, John XXIII had quite the sense of humor, too, but always remained pious and chaste. So much so, that he refused to look women in their eye, admittedly because he was attracted to them and wished not to put himself in temptation’s way. I am amazed by his vision for the Second Vatican Council and by the aggressive agenda he fearlessly let it take.

#3: Pope Paul VI was truly blessed by the Holy Spirit. When I think about the size, scope and success of the Second Vatican Council, despite John XXIII’s death early into the Council, I am in awe of Paul VI’s wisdom to let it continue its course, despite the monstrous task of dealing with arguing factions over the Church’s teachings. At the end of the Council, the Church defined how we know and celebrate the Mass today, as well as the roles of priest, religious and laity. Of all the thousands of clergy in attendance, under Paul VI’s leadership, accord was reached and the Holy Spirit was among them. He was also the first “mobile” pope—traveling to various dioceses around the globe, unlike previous pope. He set a precedent for his successor, too, John Paul II.

#4: Pope Benedict XVI is amazing and I’m in complete awe of his eloquence in writing. And not only is he an extremely eloquent writer, he’s very practical in his explanations of complex philosophical theories. Moral relativism isn’t an easy phenomenon to understand to most people (heck, I spent four years as undergraduate trying to “get it”), but his use of anecdotal story-telling makes it all come together. And that’s important, because the implication of moral relativism are very real in our world. . . it is what’s wrong with the world today. But all too often, big words put many people off. In one of the excerpts I had to analyze this semester, Joseph Ratzinger (the Pope’s birth name for those who forget) was able to simplify Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity in an analogy about morality. And more so, I was able to re-communicate it in the course of a conversation to I—. Now that’s impressive to me.

#5: Conscience takes primacy over papacy. While thinking of Ratzinger/Benedict, the excerpt I was analyzing had to do with the importance of conscience and one’s obligation to obey it primarily. Many religious fundamentalists (mostly of the Christian variety) accuse, very ignorantly, Catholics of worshipping the pope, among other silly things. While I know very well that Catholics don’t worship the pope, I certainly didn’t fully understand how important it is to the Church. One must obey their conscience, provided it is informed with the most correct counsel, above all else. If one’s conscience cannot agree with the Church (or anything else) and a person has done everything within their reasonable power to educate it, then it cannot be wrong for them to follow it. Of course, in many cases, consciences are erroneous and receive misinformation. This is what makes the case of St. Thomas More so special—his decision to die in support of his conscience (which was true to the Church, with God as head) rather than acknowledge the will of Henry VIII as Head of the Church of England.

#6: Jesus’ greatest commandment does not replace the Ten Commandments, it summarized them. I think, somewhere, I had known this. And it makes perfect sense, as do most things I read from the Source (aka, the Sacred Scriptures). But I guess I forgot about the simplicity of it, or the motivation behind it. Often, some high priests and some Pharisees were always testing Jesus and his understanding of the scriptures, the [Mosaic] law. And Jesus never failed their tests, either. When asked, which (of the Ten) is the greatest commandment, he asserts, ” ‘You shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the great and foremost [FIRST] commandment [Commandments 1 through 5]. And the second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ [Commandments 6 through 10]“  Understand, Commandments 1 through 5 have to do with honoring God. Honoring your parents is the indirect worship of God if you understand that life isn’t a human creation (how could it be?). Think of it this way: every child is God’s; parents are only stewards of his children. And loving your neighbor as yourself is the point of Commandments 6 through 10. In summary, Jesus doesn’t answer which commandment is the greatest. He replies that they all are. And how can you observe the first without observing them all?

#7: Luke was a master of brevity; I am not. Unlike other synoptic gospels and the metaphorical book of John, Luke was a master wordsmith. I know St. Francis de Sales is the patron saint of writers and journalists, but why not also include Luke? Take this passage, for example, from Luke 5:29-32:

And Levi gave a big reception for Him in his house; and there was a great crowd of tax collectors and other people who were reclining at the table with them. The Pharisees and their scribes began grumbling at His disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with the tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus answered and said to them, “It is not those who are well who need a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

Levi, recall, was the tax collector who dropped what he was doing and began to follow Jesus (Luke 5: 27-28). But there is much going on in these four verses. Levi throws a dinner celebration (a symposium because of the phrase “reclining at the table”, but I’ll save that for another day). Lots of people in attendance, of all ranks (except women and children, if it truly was a symposium). Pharisees and scribes are a little snobby and want to know why Jesus is associating with such “lowly” people like tax collectors (kind of ironic, since it’s Levi’s party in the first place).  . . and sinners? Notice, they disassociate themselves from such people as sinners, heaven forbid. Jesus’ reply is short, simple and educational. He is not only revealing himself, he is also admonishing them in the same sentence. “I have not come to call the righteous. . . ” because, who is righteous at this party? “. . . but sinners to repentance.” Such as the Pharisees, who, now, are the true sinners. In four short verses, we have the state of fallen Man (sin of pride), an explanation of Jesus’ purpose, and a hint at salvation, which was never thought possible before. I appreciate Luke’s brevity. If anything, I’m learning to pay attention to his brilliant word choice, not the length of the sentence. “Brevity is the soul of wit,” wrote Shakespeare.

#8: The Ascension is not directional. It’s funny how limited our language is, but if you try to reconcile the concept of the Ascension with the declaration that “the Kingdom of God is upon you,” (Luke 11:20, et al)  you begin to understand that the word “ascension” is probably for lack of a better one. It’s hard, though, to unlearn preconceived notions. Now, for some strange reason, I imagine Jesus stepping into a pocket of light, like Star Trek, except more brilliant and with a better outcome, and vanishing into thin air. Where is heaven? Why do we look up to the sky? The Kingdom is among us, He is within us.

#9: I wish I could have been one of the two travelers on the road to Emmaus. Luke 24:13-35 is one of the renewed passages for me. In this passage, the third day after the crucifixion of the Nazarene, two travelers, Cleopas and an unnamed person, are saddened and walking along when a third person joins them. The third person doesn’t really ask, “Where are you going?” but instead just hangs back and listens to their gloomy recollection of the crucifixion. They are sad because they had been hoping that Jesus of Nazareth would have been the savior of Israel. And furthermore, something happened to his body, because according to some crazed women’s accounts, his body isn’t where it was buried. But the third traveler points out what the scriptures had prophesied and they walk along learning all about it (I would have loved to have heard Jesus’ interpretation of what I know as the Old Testament!). Finally, upon reaching the village, they invite Jesus to stay (metaphorical, no?) and they had yet another symposium meal (again, “reclined at the table”). And here’s why I really would have loved to have been present (30-31): He took the bread and blessed it, and breaking it, He began giving it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight. The first documented post-resurrection Eucharistic celebration, and by the first priest, the Resurrected Lord himself! (And no, the “vanishing” isn’t that Jesus disappeared—not like the verb used in the Ascension passage anyway.) Rather, the unknown third traveler vanished from their site because he was no longer unknown, but known.

#10: It helps to say the Act of Contrition twice a day. If you follow my blog, you understand my constant battle with contrition. It isn’t that I don’t want to be contrite. . . in fact, quite the opposite: that I can’t be perfectly contrite. Perfect contrition means that you are sorry with the entirety of your heart for the wrongs against God out of love for him and have a resolution not to commit the sin again (to the best of your ability anyway). Imperfect contrition is being sorry out of fear of God, or, in my case, out of knowing that I am not contrite enough not to commit the same sins again. I am truly sorry for my offenses against God, but I fear that my love for him is distracted to the point that I cannot promise before him that I will try to the best of my ability not to sin again.  I know it’s legalistic, but my conscience is such the way it is (refer to #5 above). Occasionally, I break down in deep humility and love and put much effort into changing or sacrificing my own will to His. A priest once said that distractions are human but every time we make an effort to do his will, no matter for how little of a time, we show an expression of love and that’s all he really asks for from his children, whether if it’s from a life of devout adoration or 15 million tiny-but-voluntary instances of expressions of love. One of my professors mentioned that he said the Act of Contrition voluntarily twice a day—once in the morning and once before bed, out of love for God regarding any sins he may have committed in the course of the day or evening. He suggested that saying the Act of Contrition may have an effect of contrition over time. I hope so.

And finally, a huge thanks to my old friend A— who edited my nonsense and helped me organize thoughts into what normal people call a term paper. God really looks out for his kids, you know. He wants them to do well in school.

Our Lady of Guadalupe, ora pro nobis.

Preliminary days:

Two weeks prior to the surgery, I started an intensive vitamin regimen that I found from a surgeon for general surgery and verified with a doctor classmate of mine (no, I’m not studying medicine, he just happens to be a doctor who’s taking the same course I am for a variety of reasons). This I think helped my situation.  Here was my regimen (but please verify with a doctor before taking any vitamin supplements prior to surgery).

• 60 mg Zinc (2 x 30 mg)
• 60 mg Co-Q10
• 1,200 mg Calcium
• 1,000 mg Magnesium 2 x 500 mg)
• 1,000 mg L-Cystine (2 x 500 mg)
• Vitamin C – up to 10,000 mg daily, but I only taking 3,000-4,000 mg due to what I get from dietary intake
• Vitamin K – 100 mcg pill (not to exceed label dose and only for the weeks surrounding surgery–this can be overdosed, so be careful)
• Garlic (after surgery only) – 500 mg
• Vitamin E (after surgery only!!!)
• Echinacea herbal supplement (after surgery only)

It’s extremely important to note that Vitamins A, D, and E (among others) are fat soluble vitamins and must never be taken in the two weeks prior to surgery. Garlic, also, can thin the blood, so, like aspirin, shouldn’t be taken prior to surgery.

The garlic and Echinacea herbal supplements made me feel nauseated within 45 mins of taking them and only for about 4 minutes or so, even when I ate food.  None of the others made me nauseous; however, I did take them at night prior to bed time (that was most convenient for me).

Also, a couple of days before, I went online and printed out an Advance Directive and a Medical Power of Attorney. I know that this is “minor surgery,” but because I’m not married, it was important to me to be able to give I— a chance to make decisions for me. My sister is the primary decision-maker, of course, but I named him as the alternate since she couldn’t physically be in town for this.

The pre-op foods I made sure to have at home: popsicles, chicken broth, butternut squash soup, tomato soup and jello mix.

Spiritually: any surgery like this allows for Catholics to receive the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick (which includes reconciliation).  I obtained this sacrament from my priest a day and a half before the surgery. Can’t ever be to sure of anything, but having received this sacrament made me feel 150% more at ease.

Day One: Surgery

No food or liquid after midnight. I didn’t think this would be terribly hard, but I have class on Thursday evenings and my surgery was scheduled on a Friday. On the night before my surgery, some classmates asked me to stay late to discuss a group presentation we’d be doing in a couple of weeks. I hadn’t eaten dinner and I wanted to eat a delicious, completely-bad-for-me dinner from Taco Cabana, so I didn’t get home until 10:45 with dinner in hand. I was worried about little stuff like laundry getting done because I didn’t know how I’d feel coming out. I threw in a load and dried it. I probably feel asleep around 12:45 or so, with a wake-up around 5:50 am.

By 7:15, I— had driven me to the surgery center, where it wasn’t much time at all before I was escorted to pee in a cup for a pre-surgical pregnancy test. One can never be too sure and I appreciated that!

By 8 am, I was taken to the pre-operation area, asked to undress to all but my knickers and warm socks, and to put on a gown. A nurse soon hooked up the vitals monitor to my chest. Then, she took about 15 minutes trying to find a vein she was comfortable with to use. That got my blood pressure up—not because of the stick, but because the nurse was so nervous about it. When she did stick me, she missed the vein and had to scope around a bit, which is painful, but she found it and breathed a noticeable sigh of relief, joking that she’d earned her money for the day.

A few minutes later, they let I— in the room (thanks to that Advanced Directive giving him rights to be as family). He was frustrated all morning because of his job. He was working remotely on his staff’s payroll (normal payroll clerk was out) and he was simultaneously trying to reach people to schedule shifts that needed immediate filling. I felt horrible for him because he was having a hard time finding a signal. It was very frustrating for him and it couldn’t have come on a worse day—when I needed his support to get through this. But it’s ok that he was pre-occupied—his presence there just made me smile and feel better.

After what seemed like an hour, the anesthesiologist gave me a “cocktail” to relax. They wheeled me into the operating room and I was already loopy. I remember the last thing I joked about to my doctor, “I’m here for my liposuction” and then I shifted onto the operating table. A mask was on my face and I was being told to breathe deeply.  Lights out.

Next thing I know, I— was next to me. I was so sleepy and a nurse was asking how I was doing. I didn’t know. My neck was swollen to the touch, but I didn’t really feel anything. Contrary to all those Internet stories, I didn’t immediately vomit or feel immense pain. I could still talk, it was just difficult to talk in anything louder than a whisper.

I— had texted my boss and my sister and let them know that surgery was ok. The doctor was able to give I— an update before I even woke up (thanks to the Advanced Directive, I’m telling you).  She told him that I woke up “wildly” and had to be re-sedated, but I have no recollection of that. I was given some orange-syrupy slushie to sip on, but ice water is what I craved. The post-op nurse came through.

A few mins after I left, I— helped me get dressed and escort me to the restroom. Then I was wheeled out to the vehicle and off we were.

Our first stop was the compounding pharmacy for a Tetracaine lollipop to numb any hurting parts of my throat. (There’s a long story about why I wasn’t able to get my meds prior to surgery due to complications with the pharmacy and the doctor’s office). Then we stopped at Sonic Drive-In so that I— could get a burger (poor guy) and I got a shake out the deal. Finally, we went to Walgreen’s Pharmacy to pick up the Hydrocodone/APAP Solution and Ondansetron (an anti-nausea medicine). We had to yell a little at the clerk from the drive-through (I was in no condition to walk) because he at first claimed that he didn’t have the pain meds, but then he checked a warehouse delivery and there they magically were.

At home, I immediately laid down to rest. My body was sluggish.  I had managed only to swallow about a quarter of the shake. It was time for the pain medicine, which, contrary to the nurse’s advice, I didn’t mix with a popsicle. It burned going down. Lesson one learned.

After a couple of hours of rest, I— went out to get some extra goodies: milk, ice cream, yogurt and mashed potatoes. While he was out, I took an anti-nausea tablet because I slowly got a Jello-brand chocolate mousse snack pack. I felt hungry, but not uncomfortably so. A few minutes later, I was throwing up the mousse. So much for the anti-nausea meds.

I laid down, obviously. By the time I— got home,  I stood up to see what he bought. Then I violently vomited again. By this time, there was nothing in me to vomit and some blood was in there. I laid down again.

Later, I threw up a third time of pure liquid stomach bile and water–all that I had ingested since the last vomit episode.  No blood, but still violent. This time, however, I felt much better afterwards. We are supposing it was probably caused from the anesthetics.

After another nap later, I rested in the living room in front of the tv. My throat still wasn’t hurting as much as I thought it would.  Swallowing, while slow, wasn’t hard. I made I— make me a half-cup of lukewarm chicken broth and it tasted so delicious! That made my entire soul feel better. I took my last dose of medicine and went to sleep with my humidifier on full blast just three feet from my bed side.

Just prior to falling asleep, I said day one of a novena to St. Blaise, of whom my boss, of all people, reminded me is the patron saint of throat ailments. So far, his intercession is working.

Day two:

On the positive side, I’m already down 5.8 lbs. During the night, I set my alarm to go off every 45 minutes to sip on low-cal Gatorade (also, which helped after vomiting). I did wake up around 4:30 am to take another dose of the pain medicine because the pain, though not completely unbearable, was enough to keep me awake.

I woke up around 8:30 and my throat still didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting. My tongue hurts, though. I didn’t take any pain meds until around 10 am, when I decided to put the Tetracaine pop to use. The arch in the back of my throat hurts more today, but again, not unbearable. After I downed a lite yogurt with vitamins mushed into it, I took my pain med and another nap.

As the day wore on, I realized my back rib cage hurt from the previous day’s vomiting episodes. It hurt to the touch, but still no more vomiting.

I slept more, off and on. I didn’t have much of an appetite still and so I stuck with extremely small portions. I tried a little pre-made macaroni and cheese—it’s very important that food is so lukewarm, it’s on the verge of being cold again.

At the end of the day, I only took about two doses of the pain meds throughout the day and one tablet for anti-nausea (just to be safe).

Day Three:

This day was much more painful. I followed the doses of the pain medicine strictly.  The experts are correct: pain is a lot worse in the morning. It was a Sunday, so it was a rather lazy day of television and more naps.

I mixed vitamins into vanilla pudding—disgusting! Vitamin C does not go well with vanilla pudding. Duly noted.

My friends stopped by and brought me two pints of ice cream (solid flavors, with no mix-ins). I’ve never been a huge fan of chocolate ice cream, but the Starbucks Hot Chocolate ice cream went down quite nicely.  What made me feel better most of all was the fact that my friends stopped by in the first place. One of them had the nerve to look at my throat, which is grossly white and slimy.

Day Four:

Pain is worsening without meds. My ear pain has increased.  I observed that I prefer to eat about 10 minutes or so after drinking the pain medicine doses because the medicine numbs my throat and that makes eating easier. I can also swallow my vitamins now, though not too many at once.

This was also the first day I was by myself. I had to occupy myself with working on a research paper for school, which I desperately needed to finish, but I found it frustrating because I couldn’t focus for long periods of time. I ended up taking two naps within a 5-hour span.

I couldn’t afford to miss a class at school, so I had I— drive me to school.  Daylight savings time ended, so it was darker than I am used to. I took pain meds about two hours before I left. Even though my dosing schedule is every four hours, I find that I can usually go about five hours before the pain is noticeable. But attending class was definitely a challenge because we were asked to work in groups, which required that I speak, even if in a low voice.

Some classmates who knew what I had undergone were astonished that I was in class. And I think I was fine except for that talking requirement. By the end of class, I could feel the pain creeping back and my mouth was exhausted from trying to talk. So much so, I was quite grumpy and whiney to I— when class dismissed. I apologized to him later, but he just writes it off as me being sick. The pain, by then, was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Day Five:

Today just may be my chance to make this tonsillectomy all worth it.

I woke up in extreme pain and still a good half-hour to go before my next dose. It was the first night that I didn’t wake up early enough in the middle of the night to take a dose until about 4:30 am. (Normally, it’s around 2:30 am). So this threw me off schedule. When I— was getting ready to leave for work, I woke up in tears. This time, though, it’s not throat pain that brings the tears, it’s the ear pain.

I worked all morning on my research paper again, but again found myself taking about an hour-long nap. Around noon, I was able to eat a half-bowl of macaroni and cheese, which is the largest quantity of food I’ve eaten in five days. I was stuffed!

I am going to try to meet one of my football heroes today, Houston Texans Middle Linebacker DeMeco Ryans (#59). He’ll be signing autographs today at a time when I normally wouldn’t be able to make due to work, but being home for this tonsillectomy has its advantages. We’ll see how the pain management goes. I can’t take it before I drive for obvious reasons. I think I’ll have it prepared for when I get home, though.

Days Six — Ten:

More of recovery.  Each day, the pain lessens.  No nausea.  Drinking ice-cold fluids triggers ear pain.  Warmer fluids (not hot) are better tolerated.

Days 11, 12:

Scabs are starting to come off in my throat and it’s disgusting. And that’s made more so because some of the scabs are making me feel like I’m gagging. I’m making my throat sore trying to swallow to remove them. I forced myself to eat a taco (because of the crunchy shell) in order to scrape the throat. I know it probably isn’t advisable, but I have a super-sensitive gag-reflex and I feel like I’ll vomit in my sleep if I don’t do something about it.  Hurt like hell to swallow but I succeeded in getting part of the scab down (I know, more dégueulasse!).

I’ve also been weaning off the medication by taking a half-dose (day 11) and a third-dose (day 12). The medicine does nothing to stop the gag feeling.  My throat, otherwise, is still sore, but very tolerable pain. In fact, I find that I don’t really notice the pain unless I eat or if I talk a lot.  We entertained people over the weekend and celebrated E—’s birthday, which didn’t help much.

Day 13, onward and the Importance of Taking Post-Surgical Iron Supplements:

I feel set back.  I feel awful today. My throat isn’t the issue, though, and the scabs are no longer gagging me. In fact, the pain in my throat is barely noticeable at all. No hydrocodone/APAP medicine at all today, I’m done. It’s my first day back at work.

No, today I felt lethargic. I had cold chills/sweats.  My heart raced at times. I felt nauseated, almost diarrheal. I couldn’t find energy from anywhere (mind you, I haven’t had any more caffeine than from iced tea).  I felt OK in the morning, but as the day wore on, I spiraled downward.

I did finally get a burst of energy for a few hours around 3 pm, perhaps because my CEO and I started chatting about football, my boss’ wife chatted with me about theology—two of my passions to get me worked up.

When I got home, I— brought me get-well flowers (bonus!) and made me an omelette and had strawberries and my favorite gourmet cheese in stock. I don’t know what I did to deserve those other than whine the last 13 days. But alas, no rest to be had, as I had class and term paper to turn in.

About 10 minutes into class, I began to gag. I gagged so much, I had to get up, run to the restroom and kneel over to pot to dry-heave.  I thought I was going to die. Cold sweats galore! I cried a bit in self-pity (probably from the side effect of losing the narcotic meds).  After 10 or so minutes, I pulled myself together, washed my face, wet a paper towel to bring with me back to class.  It was uneventful thereafter, except for an occasional bout of chills and unceasing headaches (not migraines, though). Even my chest was sore, though that could be from all the dry-heaving.

As I lay down for the night, I had an epiphany. I’m iron-deficient. I have all the classic symptoms of it. I mentioned this to I— and he and I looked it up. Verified—I had all the symptoms of iron deficiency. I’m not anemic normally, but I’ve always had trouble with keeping iron high anyway. Furthermore, my google search yielded that 90% of people suffer mild anemia after surgery. I did the old look-at-the-lower-eye-lid trick and it was almost white—hardly any pink to be found at all! That couldn’t be good.

In hindsight it makes sense. Where would I have gotten iron from while recovering? I lost blood during the surgery and hardly ate anything for the two days following it. No meat or green, leafy vegetables. No black-eyed peas or broccoli. Fortunately, I— took care of me and at 11:30 at night, he raided the kitchen for anything we had in stock with more than 10% iron in it. The solution: Malt-O-Meal® (60% iron per serving). There I was, eating Malt-O-Meal in bed around midnight. ENT surgeons should include Malt-O-Meal on the list of recommended foods after tonsillectomies. Easy to swallow and combat hypoferremia. Seriously.

In the morning, I felt less lethargic, but I still felt like crappola. No cold sweats, though. On the way to work, I grabbed a PowerBar® ProteinPlus chocolate/peanut butter bar. Still hurt a bit to eat, but it had 45% iron/serving. A couple of hours later, I’m feeling better. I’m thinking of leaving work early to sleep, but stopping at a vitamin store to grab some iron supplements or pre-natal vitamins.

All in all, I had time to let the pain recover, but not the time to let my body recover. If I could take more time off of work, I would definitely take a couple of days to rest my body. I was so focused on healing my throat, I neglected the exhaustion toll it takes on the rest of the body.

A priest shared his anecdote of what his mother taught him about spending time daily in deep prayer and meditation:

Imagine living in a house with your parents. They house you, feed you, but you never have really talk to them. They bore you and you have a sense of loyalty to them for this reason by keeping a picture of them on your wall. You only really speak to them when you need something urgently. As your parents, they love you unconditionally, but can’t really force you to anything you don’t want. What kind of relationship is that?  So it is with those of us who acknowledge God but don’t really have a conversation with him each day. Prayer helps, but it might help to combine it with actual conversation. It doesn’t have to be about need: God already knows what you need. Rather, focus on the little stuff, like gratitude for the good things that happen, or asking for help in correcting a vice.

I— found an ironic website by an atheist and shared it with me. The author is asking for I guess what one might call pity about what it feels like to be an atheist. In the anecdote, he (or she) compares it to being forced to choose a number on a Roulette wheel and when he replies that he isn’t going to make an uneducated guess, the inquisitor gets angry and calls him a prick and know-it-all.  Substituting the Roulette wheel image for questions about the origination of life and he claims, “that’s what it’s like to be an atheist.” (I’d share the link, but I wasn’t supplied with it.)  I responded to I— with my own anecdote of what it’s like to a theist.

 Atheism, as I have said before, is a special topic to me being that I am a converted theist, and Christian (Catholic) at that. So I want to share what I’ve been studying from the Roman Catholic Church regarding the call of the faithful to address atheism and agnosticism. Yes, we are called to respond to it, by obligation, but not in the way that most people would believe of the fervently religious folks:

From Redemptoris missio (John Paull II, 1990):

•  ”The task of proclaiming Jesus Christ to all peoples appears to be immense and out of all proportion to the Church’s human resources. The difficulties seem insurmountable and could easily lead to discouragement, if it were a question of a merely human enterprise.” (Ch 4, sec 35
•  ”Nor are the difficulties lacking within the People of God; indeed these difficulties are the most painful of all. As the first of these difficulties Pope Paul VI points to ‘the lack of fervor [which] is all the more serious because it comes from within. It is manifested in fatigue, disenchantment, compromise, lack of interest and above all lack of joy and hope.’. . . But one of the most serious reasons for the lack of interest in the missionary task is a widespread indifferentism, which, sad to say, is found also among Christians. It is based on incorrect theological perspectives and is characterized by a religious relativism which leads to belief that ‘one religion is as good as another.’ ” (Ch 4, sec 36)
•  ”While acknowledging that statements about the missionary responsibility of the Church are not credible unless they are backed up by a serious commitment to a new evangelization in the traditionally Christian countries, it does not seem justified to regard as identical the situation of a people which has never know Jesus Christ and that of a people which has known him, accepted him and then rejected him, while continuing to live in a culture which in large part has absorbed gospel principles and values. These are two basically different situations with regard to the faith.” (Ch 4, sec 37a)

From Gaudium et spes (Second Vatican Council, 1965) (Sections 19-21):

• “The root reason for human dignity lies in man’s call to communion with God. . . For man would not exist were he not created by Gods love and constantly preserved by it; and he cannot live fully according to truth unless he freely acknowledges that love and devotes himself to His Creator. Still, many of our contemporaries have never recognized this intimate and vital link with God, or have explicitly rejected it. Thus atheism must be accounted among the most serious problems of this age, and is deserving of closer examination. (Sec 19)
• The word atheism is applied to phenomena which are quite distinct from one another. For while God is expressly denied by some, others believe that man can assert absolutely nothing about Him. Still others use such a method to scrutinize the question of God as to make it seem devoid of meaning. Many, unduly transgressing the limits of the positive sciences, contend that everything can be explained by this kind of scientific reasoning alone, or by contrast, they altogether disallow that there is any absolute truth. Some laud man so extravagantly that their faith in God lapses into a kind of anemia, though they seem more inclined to affirm man than to deny God. Again some form for themselves such a fallacious idea of God that when they repudiate this figment they are by no means rejecting the God of the Gospel. Some never get to the point of raising questions about God, since they seem to experience no religious stirrings nor do they see why they should trouble themselves about religion. Moreover, atheism results not rarely from a violent protest against the evil in this world, or from the absolute character with which certain human values are unduly invested, and which thereby already accords them the stature of God. Modern civilization itself often complicates the approach to God not for any essential reason but because it is so heavily engrossed in earthly affairs. (Sec 19)
• Undeniably, those who willfully shut out God from their hearts and try to dodge religious questions are not following the dictates of their consciences, and hence are not free of blame; yet believers themselves frequently bear some responsibility for this situation. For, taken as a whole, atheism is not a spontaneous development but stems from a variety of causes, including a critical reaction against religious beliefs, and in some places against the Christian religion in particular. Hence believers can have more than a little to do with the birth of atheism. To the extent that they neglect their own training in the faith, or teach erroneous doctrine, or are deficient in their religious, moral or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than reveal the authentic face of God and religion. (Sec 19)
• Modern atheism often takes on a systematic expression which, in addition to other causes, stretches the desires for human independence to such a point that it poses difficulties against any kind of dependence on God. Those who profess atheism of this sort maintain that it gives man freedom to be an end unto himself, the sole artisan and creator of his own history. They claim that this freedom cannot be reconciled with the affirmation of a Lord Who is author and purpose of all things, or at least that this freedom makes such an affirmation altogether superfluous. Favoring this doctrine can be the sense of power which modern technical progress generates in man.  (Sec 20)
• Not to be overlooked among the forms of modern atheism is that which anticipates the liberation of man especially through his economic and social emancipation. This form argues that by its nature religion thwarts this liberation by arousing man’s hope for a deceptive future life, thereby diverting him from the constructing of the earthly city. Consequently when the proponents of this doctrine gain governmental power they vigorously fight against religion, and promote atheism by using, especially in the education of youth, those means of pressure which public power has at its disposal. (Sec 20)
• In her loyal devotion to God and men, the Church has already repudiated and cannot cease repudiating, sorrowfully but as firmly as possible, those poisonous doctrines and actions which contradict reason and the common experience of humanity, and dethrone man from his native excellence. Still, she strives to detect in the atheistic mind the hidden causes for the denial of God; conscious of how weighty are the questions which atheism raises, and motivated by love for all men, she believes these questions ought to be examined seriously and more profoundly. (Sec 21)
• The Church holds that the recognition of God is in no way hostile to man’s dignity, since this dignity is rooted and perfected in God. For man was made an intelligent and free member of society by God Who created him, but even more important, he is called as a son to commune with God and share in His happiness. She further teaches that a hope related to the end of time does not diminish the importance of intervening duties but rather undergirds the acquittal of them with fresh incentives. By contrast, when a divine instruction and the hope of life eternal are wanting, man’s dignity is most grievously lacerated, as current events often attest; riddles of life and death, of guilt and of grief go unsolved with the frequent result that men succumb to despair. (Sec 21)
• Meanwhile every man remains to himself an unsolved puzzle, however obscurely he may perceive it. For on certain occasions no one can entirely escape the kind of self-questioning mentioned earlier, especially when life’s major events take place. To this questioning only God fully and most certainly provides an answer as He summons man to higher knowledge and humbler probing. (Sec 21)
• The remedy which must be applied to atheism, however, is to be sought in a proper presentation of the Church’s teaching as well as in the integral life of the Church and her members. For it is the function of the Church, led by the Holy Spirit Who renews and purifies her ceaselessly, to make God the Father and His Incarnate Son present and in a sense visible. This result is achieved chiefly by the witness of a living and mature faith, namely, one trained to see difficulties clearly and to master them. Many martyrs have given luminous witness to this faith and continue to do so. This faith needs to prove its fruitfulness by penetrating the believer’s entire life, including its worldly dimensions, and by activating him toward justice and love, especially regarding the needy. What does the most reveal God’s presence, however, is the brotherly charity of the faithful who are united in spirit as they work together for the faith of the Gospel and who prove themselves a sign of unity. (Sec 21)
• While rejecting atheism, root and branch, the Church sincerely professes that all men, believers and unbelievers alike, ought to work for the rightful betterment of this world in which all alike live; such an ideal cannot be realized, however, apart from sincere and prudent dialogue. Hence the Church protests against the distinction which some state authorities make between believers and unbelievers, with prejudice to the fundamental rights of the human person. The Church calls for the active liberty of believers to build up in this world God’s temple too. She courteously invites atheists to examine the Gospel of Christ with an open mind. (Sec 21)
• Above all the Church knows that her message is in harmony with the most secret desires of the human heart when she champions the dignity of the human vocation, restoring hope to those who have already despaired of anything higher than their present lot. Far from diminishing man, her message brings to his development light, life and freedom. Apart from this message nothing will avail to fill up the heart of man: “Thou hast made us for Thyself,” O Lord, “and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.” (Sec 21)