On the Loss of Humor in a Very Serious Age

One of the more irritating and sadder characteristics of our times is that we seem to have lost our collective sense of humor. Our ability to laugh at ourselves appears to be gone, replaced by “frowny-faced” political correctness; there are seemingly endless rules about what can be said about whom, when, where, and using what terminology. On college campuses, young people demand “safe zones,” where nothing can be said that might cause them to feel “unsafe.” In media circles, outrage is a commonly expressed reaction to what used to be called ordinary disagreements.

We are too easily hurt and take offense in these thin-skinned times. We like to think we are more enlightened and sensitive than our boorish forebears (we’re allowed to scorn them because they’re dead), but I suspect the problem is more rooted in pride. The capacity to laugh at ourselves is referred to as “humor” and humor has the same root as “humility.”

In his Summa Theologica, St. Thomas Aquinas posed the following question: Whether there is a sin in lack of mirth? He answered as follows:

In human affairs whatever is against reason is a sin. Now it is against reason for a man to be burdensome to others, by offering no pleasure to others, and by hindering their enjoyment. … Now a man who is without mirth, not only is lacking in playful speech, but is also burdensome to others, since he is deaf to the moderate mirth of others. Consequently, they are vicious, and are said to be boorish or rude, as the Philosopher [Aristotle] states (Ethic. iv, 8) (ST, II, IIae, q. 168).

St. Thomas is careful not to make mirth an absolute virtue. He does not envision a foolish running off at the mouth and indiscriminate mirth at the foibles and qualities of others or groups. Thus he adds,

[However], it follows that “lack of mirth is less sinful than excess thereof.” Hence the Philosopher says (Ethic. ix, 10): “We should make few friends for the sake of pleasure, since but little sweetness suffices to season life, just as little salt suffices for our meat.” (Ibid).

In other words, mirth is a virtue to be had in moderation. A little salt goes a long way; a lot of salt will likely raise blood pressure. St. Thomas is not affirming hurtful or harsh humor here.

I would argue that today we do not have moderation. Rather we exhibit a prudish, hypersensitive fretting about every offense, perceived or actual. In a word, we are “uptight.” We have become all too precious and fragile, like snowflakes. There are a lot of party-poopers around today; they frown at any levity and take offense at every insight that suggests we human beings are funny, inconsistent, predictable, and just downright silly at times. Stereotypes can be funny because they contain an element of truth. It is not that there are no exceptions, but they are generally observable. They make the simple observation that group dynamics exist in the human community.

Why can’t we just have a good laugh at some of our foibles and admit that there is at least some truth in how others see us? The most straightforward answer is that it is because we lack humility. A second reason is that we engage in “identity politics,” in which our political positions are based on the interests of a group with which we identify. Hence, even if we could laugh at a joke made at our own expense, we do not feel free to laugh at any “insult” to the larger group. All of this is a subset of the “tyranny of relativism” and subjectivism, in which the truth is a matter of opinion rather than an external or objective fact; the locus shifts from the object to the subject. In this environment, if you find humor in or disagree with an observable object, you are laughing at or disagreeing with me. Thus enters the phenomenon of taking everything personally. Too many people have become narcissistic, boring, fragile snowflakes. Some become so angry at mere mirth that they threaten lawsuits; they seek to silence anything that they perceive to be “hurtful” (and they are easily hurt). St. Thomas well describes this sort above: [They are] burdensome to others, by offering no pleasure to others, and by hindering their enjoyment. … Consequently, they are vicious, and are said to be boorish or rude.

This does not mean we should give blanket approval to every form of humor. Poking fun at our quirkiness is one thing, but ridicule, demeaning talk, derision, and racial/ethnic scorn are quite another. As is the case with most things, moderation is key.

The ability to laugh at ourselves is a sign of security and trust. Security and trust anchor us in God’s love. We are funny and we are quirky, but we are loved.

Here is a video that pokes a little fun at our Catholic identity. When I posted it some years ago, about 25 percent of people took offense, saying that he was belittling sacred things. I think he was merely celebrating the fact that we are distinguishable by our traditions. He’s poking a little good-natured fun at our Catholic culture. Lighten up and watch Deacon Dan, whose car dealership is at the end of Water St., right before it turns in to Wine!

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Here’s another celebration of being Catholic, by Justin Stroh:

Some Qualities of True Love in an Age of Distortion

We live in times in which love is presented in a distorted, even manipulative way. Some use a vague and all-encompassing notion of love to justify almost any behavior. They declare that if we do not approve of what they do, not only are we unloving, we are haters. In this way love is equated with kindness, affirmation, and approval.

This, of course, is an inaccurate, diminished understanding of love. Love wills the good, the best, for another. Love speaks the truth even if it is challenging or painful.

If my doctor lied to me about my health, hiding serious problems from me merely so that I would not be upset, he would be guilty of malpractice. Similarly, lying to someone by making light of sin is not love, it is “malpractice” for us who would be the Lord’s prophets and agents of saving love.

For those who have watered down love to mere kindness, “malpractice” is not only preferred it is often required. “Safe zones” and an ever-expanding definition of discrimination can demand a kind of lying. If you don’t go along you may be called a hater or even find yourself on the receiving end of a lawsuit.

But distorted love isn’t love at all. Those who insist on this distorted definition of love show their true colors when someone dares defy the demand for affirmation: suddenly vicious accusations fly and social isolation is imposed.

True love is a many-splendored thing. It is kind and encouraging to be sure, but it is also willing to correct—even rebuke and punish—for the sake of the beloved. There are certain paradoxes of love that must be rediscovered. Let’s examine some of these using Scripture as our guide.

Love perfects the law; it does not oppose it. Many today set love and the law in opposition to each other. They often assert that love, God’s love in particular, means that whatever I want to do is approved of by God. The premise is that love never sets limits; it merely approves of what the beloved wants to do. Scripture says,

If you love me, you will keep my commandments (Jn 14:15). Whoever has My commandments and keeps them is the one who loves Me (Jn 14:21). If you keep My commandments, you will remain in My love (Jn 15:10). For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. (1 Jn 5:3). And this is love, that we walk according to His commandments (2 John 1:6).

Love and God’s law go hand in hand. Love does not give blanket permission to do as one pleases.

Love makes demands. Love does not mean simply accepting the other as he is, not asking him to change or repent if necessary.

Jesus, who loves us, made many demands. Consider His encounter with the rich young man: And Jesus, having looked upon him, loved him and said to him, “One thing to you is lacking: Go, sell as much as you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me” (Mk 10:21).

St. Paul insisted on his apostolic authority and his capacity to preach the hard things of the cross, saying, As the truth of Christ is in me, this bold proclamation of mine will not be silenced …. And why? Because I do not love you? God knows I do! (2 Cor 11:10-11)

Love requires making choices. A common refrain of many is this: “Jesus understands.” Or “God is love.” Weaknesses, sinful acts, and duplicity are brushed aside by a vague notion that God, who is love, doesn’t care about such things.

But the real Jesus of Scripture does care. Jesus says, If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison—your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple (Lk 14:26). Jesus says to Peter: Simon son of John, do you love me more than these? (i.e., the fish, and by extension, his career) (see Jn 21:15).

The love of God is exclusive and is superior to every other love. The Book of James makes this clear: You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore, whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God (James 4:4). Jesus says plainly, No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money (Matt 6:24).

Love demands that we make a clear choice; it will not tolerate a half-committed heart or indulgence in sin. There are demands of discipleship. Love does not permit adulterous liaisons with the world, the flesh, or the devil.

Love punishes. The modern notion is that love is permissive, merciful, and kind at all times.

But Scripture says of God’s love, The Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son. Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined … then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all (Heb 12:6-8). And Jesus says, Those I love, I rebuke and discipline. Therefore, be earnest and repent (Rev 3:19).

Love warns. Many set love-based arguments in opposition to fear-based arguments. It is true that “perfect love casts out fear” (1 Jn 4:18), but most of us don’t have perfect love. That is why Jesus often used fear-based arguments, warning us of what awaits us if we do not repent.

No one loves us more than Jesus, yet no one warned us more of Hell and the coming judgment than He did. Most of the teaching on Hell and the Day of Judgment come right from His mouth. Twenty-one of the thirty-eight parables are about judgment and possible exclusion from Heaven. There are the sheep and the goats, those on the right and those on the left; the wise virgins and the foolish ones; those that enter the wedding feast and those who reject the invitation; those who hear, Come, blessed of my Father and those who hear, Depart from me you accursed, I know you not.

Jesus loved the people of Jerusalem, yet He warned of a coming destruction if they did not repent. Indeed, he wept over Jerusalem when he saw it for the last time: As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you” (Lk 19:41-44).

Jesus did not cease warning those whom he loved. Love warns that there are consequences to sin and infidelity.

Love is not always kind; sometimes it challenges and rebukes. Kindness is an aspect of love, but so are rebuke and punishment.

True love cannot bear that another carries sin or error. Love will at times exhibit anger and strong words to dissuade the beloved from sin and harm. Scripture says,

You shall not hate your brother in your heart: you shall instead rebuke your neighbor, and not suffer sin upon him (Lev 19:17). If your brother sins against you, go and confront him privately. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over (Matt 18:15). Watch yourselves. If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him (Lk 17:3). Let a righteous man strike me—that is a kindness; let him rebuke me—that is oil on my head. My head will not refuse it (Ps 141:5).

The list could go on and on. Love is truly a many-splendored thing. It does exhibit kindness, tenderness, affection, and affirmation, but it wants what is truly best for the beloved, not what is apparently best or simply pleasant in the moment. True love wants salvation and perfection for the beloved, not merely their comfort and self-esteem. True love can say no. True love can insist upon even difficult and challenging things. True love has greater blessings in mind than passing pleasures and flattery.

Love is one of the most distorted, overused words in our culture. How about some true love?

 

The Gospel, Standing on One Foot – A Homily for the 30th Sunday of the Year

There was an expression common among the rabbis of Jesus’ time, wherein one rabbi would ask another a question, and request that the answer be given while “standing on one foot.” This is a way of saying, be brief in your answer.

That idea may be behind the question that is raised in today’s Gospel by the scholar of law, who asks, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?”

The text says that he asks this question of Jesus in order to “test” Him. In effect, he says to Jesus, “All right, let’s get right to the point. You’re talking about a lot of new things, but what is the greatest commandment?”

For this reflection, though, let’s just set aside the background hostilities and allow Jesus to recite the law, standing on one foot. In responding, Jesus recites the traditional Jewish Shema:

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד. Šĕmaʿ Yisĕrāʾel Ădōnāy Ĕlōhênû Ădōnāy eḥād. Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.

The fuller text recited by Jesus is from Deuteronomy:

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts (Deut 6:4-6).

Jesus then adds, also in common Rabbinic tradition, And the second is like it, love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.

That’s it—the whole law, standing on one foot. The first table of the law (the first three commandments): love the Lord your God. The second table of the law (commandments 4-10): love your neighbor.

There is value in noting several aspects of this summary:

  • The Leadership of Love – Jesus says that the whole law and the prophets depend on the command to love God and your neighbor. Love comes first and is the foundation, the power of the law. Jesus says elsewhere, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (John 14:15). In other words, it is love that enables us to keep the law. When we want to do something, then the doing is both joyful and in some sense effortless. Love changes our desires so that we want what God wants and we keep His law not because we have to but because we want to.
  • The Layers of Love – The text says we should love God with our heart, our soul and our mind. These layers of our existence encompass the whole of the interior person. Thus:
    • Mind – Through love we come to a new mind, that is, a new way of thinking.
    • Heart – Through love we receive a new heart; our desires are reformed and conformed to God.
    • Soul – Through love we receive a new soul. We begin to live a whole new life because the soul is the life-giving principle of the body.
  • The Lavishness of Love – Note the use of little word all. We love the Lord with all our heart, all our mind, and all our soul. When we love, we are not minimalists; we are lavish. Our response to God is wholehearted, not perfunctory. Love does not ask, What is the least I can do? Love asks, What more can I do?

It is said that Rabbi Hillel (110 B.C. – 10 A.D.), being even briefer, said of the second table of the law, “Do not do unto others that which you would hate done unto yourself … all the rest is commentary.”

We like to make it more complicated, but it really isn’t. If elaboration is required, consider the Ten Commandments, understood and expressed in the light of love:

  • I love no other gods. If I really love God, should I need separate laws that tell me that I ought not to put other gods, whether things or people, ahead of Him? No! I want to be faithful and would never dream of being unfaithful by “sleeping with other gods” of any kind.
  • I love His name. I do not need rules that forbid me from using God’s name hatefully or in vain and empty ways. I love His name; hearing it lights up my heart with love.
  • I love to praise Him. If I love God, I do not need to be compelled by law or fear to come to Mass on Sunday and worship Him. I want to worship Him and praise His name.
  • I love my family, Church, and country. If this is so, then I do not need to be told to revere those who have lawful authority in those places. I love my family; I am willing to honor, revere, and pray for them. I also love my Church and willingly love her leaders and pray for them. I follow the teaching of the Church with joy, trusting that I am hearing the voice of the Lord, who teaches me through the Church. I love my country and pray for our leaders, that God may uphold and guide them. I willingly follow all just laws and work for unity based in truth and for the common good.
  • I love my neighbors. If so, why would I want to kill them, whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually? If I love others, I revere their life and act in ways that build them up, encouraging them and helping them to have a richer, more abundant life rooted in the truth. I would never act recklessly to endanger any of them because I love them.
  • I love human life. If I love my neighbors, why would I tempt them or exploit them sexually? If I love the human family, why would I endanger it by treating lightly the great sacredness of human sexuality by which God calls us into existence? Why would I want to look at pornography or laugh at crude jokes that demean something so sacred? If I love others, why would I want to gratify myself at their expense?
  • I love others by respecting what is rightfully theirs. If I love others, why would I wish to steal from them, to harm or endanger what belongs to them, or to deprive them of what is rightfully theirs? Why would I be unjust to others by refusing them just wages? Why would I be unjust to the poor by refusing to help them when it is within my ability to do so? If I have two coats one of them justly belongs to the poor. If I love others why would I steal or act unjustly? I want to help them and am glad when they are blessed. I respect what they rightfully have and share in their joy.
  • I speak the truth in love. Why would I lie to those whom I love? Why would I seek to harm their reputations or gossip about them? Why would I pass on hurtful things that I don’t even know to be true? Why would I fail to share with them the truth in love? Love rejoices in the truth; why would I lie or suppress the truth?
  • I rejoice in the good fortune of others. If I love others why would I seek to possess what they have or resent them for what they do have? I love them and am happy for them. Perhaps their blessings mean that I too will be blessed.
  • I reverence the families of others. Why would I ever seek to harm the marriage or family of another or resent the gift he has in his spouse and family? I am happy for his blessings. I am happy that my friend has a loving wife and well-behaved children. Out of love, I seek to encourage him to rejoice in his gifts!

So it all comes down to love. Love rejoices in God. Love wants whatever God wants. Love rejoices in others and wants what is best for them.

Love is the key, but many of us struggle to love. God can give us a new heart, one that starts loving Him, fully and freely; one that has a deep love—even affection—for everyone. God will do that for us if we want it.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws (Ez 36:26-27).

A thousand questions and doubts may come to mind when we are called to love. Even when we love, we cannot always say yes. Love sometimes must say no; love cannot approve of everything. Love must sometimes correct and reprove. In the end, people know whether you love them or not and they know whether you love God or not. If people know of your love for them and experience it, it is possible for them to receive even the difficult and challenging things you say. Yes, all these doubts and questions are answered by love.

Now I ought to stop, because if Jesus gives the “standing on one foot,” then the preacher must be brief as well. You and I like to complicate things and ask a lot of questions, but the answer is simple enough: love. Yes, all the rest is mere commentary.

This song reminds us that to love God is, first of all, to experience powerfully His love for us. One day it will finally dawn on us that the Lord died for us.

Tearing Up the Memo, as Seen in an Animal Video

credit:  Catholic Standard

At the bottom of this post is a video of dogs and cats who apparently never “got the memo” that they are supposed to fear and hate each other. As the video makes clear, they are bosom buddies who love to romp, play, wrestle, and even snuggle. How unlikely! And yet there it is before our eyes.

While the interactions between animals are mysterious and not to be compared with human relationships, I can’t help thinking of humanity as I watch them. What would things be like if some of the “memos” we pass back and forth were torn up, lost, or never received?

I remember some years ago when the former Yugoslavia broke apart. It was good news, as Soviet-style rule there ended. But then a horrible bloodbath ensued and the Bosnian, Serbians, and Croatians turned on one another, rekindling old hatreds going back hundreds of years. I remember wondering how people who had lived largely without violence for so long could still hate one another so. It seemed that the injustices of the past predated most of the people who were alive at the time.

Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian babies are not born hating one another; it must be instilled by someone. When the longtime “strongman” Tito died in 1980, dormant hatreds that had been handed down from parent to child surfaced.

I realize that I may be oversimplifying things, but there is also the tendency to overcomplicate matters. The fact is, children do not enter this world with an intrinsic hatred of an entire group of other children. Someone teaches them that. That part isn’t complicated.

When I was a child, I lived in Chicago, Illinois. I don’t remember my parents ever telling me to hate or even be wary of black people; I give them a lot of credit for that. Neither do I remember any awareness of racial tension or hatred in my neighborhood. However, I was still very young and the racial riots that followed Dr. King’s assassination did not really register in my 7-year-old mind.

In 1969, though, we moved to Northern Florida (think “Southern Georgia”). There, racial tension was always in the air. I remember being bewildered by the unexplained resentments and fears. I guess I was too young. In addition, I was a newcomer and had not “read the memo” telling me that I should be suspicious, that I should hate, that I should in no way mix with “them.” I remember once seeing some black children across the playground who were playing with what I thought were some “really cool” toys. Intrigued, I went over to join them. I was rebuffed not only by fellow whites but also by some of the black children, who seemed to consider my “incursion” unwanted and even threatening.

It’s crazy stuff. We are not born hating any person, any race, or any ethnicity. Someone teaches us that. This very fact increases the total disgrace that such hatred is. You may call me naive and simplistic—even myopic—but I wonder what might happen if we could just “tear up the memo.”

The Catechism of the Catholic Church makes some very helpful observations:

Deliberate hatred is contrary to charity. Hatred of the neighbor is a sin when one deliberately wishes him evil. Hatred of the neighbor is a grave sin when one deliberately desires him grave harm. “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven” (CCC #2303).

Respect for and development of human life require peace. Peace is not merely the absence of war, and it is not limited to maintaining a balance of powers between adversaries. Peace cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and the assiduous practice of fraternity. Peace is the “tranquility of order.” Peace is the work of justice and the effect of charity (CCC #2304).

Injustice, excessive economic or social inequalities, envy, distrust, and pride raging among men and nations constantly threaten peace and cause wars. Everything done to overcome these disorders contributes to building up peace and avoiding war: Insofar as men are sinners, the threat of war hangs over them and will so continue until Christ comes again; but insofar as they can vanquish sin by coming together in charity, violence itself will be vanquished and these words will be fulfilled: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (CCC #2317).

Well, if nothing else, enjoy this video of animals who never “got the memo” that they are supposed to be mortal enemies and consider joining me in the dream that we humans will do the same.

Meanwhile We Pray – In Humility, Always in Humility

We are often quite certain that we know what is best for us. Therefore, we pray, asking God for good health, prosperity, or victory in some cause. But what if it is better for us to be unhealthy, to be poor, or to lose? Can we really say we know what is best and confidently set before God our agenda?

James and John sought honors and exaltation, but Jesus responded, You do not know what you are asking (Mark 10:38). Paul prayed three times to be delivered from some physical malady, but the Lord said no and taught him that the affliction was necessary to keep him from being too elated by the blessings he had seen. Weakness was necessary to keep Paul humble and able to realize that it was God’s strength and not his that accomplished anything good or lasting.

Scripture says, We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans (Rom 8:26). Meditating on this passage, St. Augustine wrote,

We do not know what it is right to pray for; yet, because it is difficult, troublesome and against the grain for us, weak as we are, we do what every human would do, we pray that it may be taken away from us. We owe, however, at least this much in our duty to God: if he does not take it away, we must not imagine that we are being forgotten by him but because of our loving endurance of evil, must await greater blessings in its place. In this way, power shines forth more perfectly in weakness.

These words are written to prevent us from having too great an opinion of ourselves if our prayer is granted, and when we are impatient in asking for something that it would be better not to receive; and to prevent us from being dejected, and distrustful of God’s mercy toward us, if our prayer is not granted, [For, indeed] … we [may] ask for something that would bring us greater affliction, or completely ruin us through the corrupting influence of prosperity.

In these cases, we do not know what is right to ask for in prayer.

Therefore, if something happens that we did not pray for, we must have no doubt at all that what God wants is more expedient than what we wanted ourselves. Our great Mediator gave us an example of this. After he had said: Father, if it is possible, let this cup be taken away from me, he immediately added, Yet not what I will, but what you will, Father (Letter to Proba, Ep. 130, 25-26).

Humility in prayer, humility.

I have shared this story here before, but it is worth repeating. It teaches on the often-ambiguous qualities of events and problems and how we are often in no position to distinguish a blessing from a burden:

There was a man who was a farmer. One day the wind blew the gate of his field open and his valued and only horse escaped and was not to be found. His friends came to commiserate with him about this loss, but he only said to them, “We’ll see.”

Several days later, the horse returned with a wild stallion and a mare. His friends came to rejoice with him in his good fortune, but he only said to them, “We’ll see.”

Several days later, his son was breaking in the new horses and was cast from the back of the wild stallion and suffered a broken arm and leg. The farmer’s friends came and commiserated with him about his son’s injuries, but he only said to them, “We’ll see.”

Several days later, troops of the emperor came to the area to draft the young men of the village into his army. But the farmer’s son was exempted due to his injuries. And the farmer’s friends came to rejoice with him that his son was not taken away, but he only said to them, “We’ll see.”

Yes, in so many events of life we lack the comprehensive view to sit in judgment on their full meaning. We ought to pray, but in great humility. God knows what we are really asking and what will really bless us. He asks us to pray. He wants to engage us, but the answer must be His; what is His is always best. Blessings are not always as they seem; neither are burdens. Sometimes the best we can do is to say, “We’ll see.” Meanwhile we pray—in humility, always in humility.

Promises, Promises – A Parable on the False Promises of This World

One of the great illusions under which we labor is that if we only get just one more thing from this world, then we will be happy. Perhaps we think that if we just had a little more money, or a better job, or the latest iPhone, or if we were married to so-and-so, or if we lived in a better neighborhood, then we would be satisfied and content at last. But “at last” never seems to come even if we do get some of the things on our list. As Ecclesiastes puts it, The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing (Ecc 1:8). Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income (Ecc. 5:8).

Although we realize this deep down, we continue to fall for the lie again and again. We think that just one more thing will do the trick. So we lay out the money and spend the time—and then the delight lasts twenty minutes at most! The world just can’t close the deal.

There is a joke (a parable, in my mind) that illustrates the endless treadmill the world has us on and how it continually seduces us into wanting just one more thing. In the end, this leads us to neglect the one thing most necessary.

There was a lonely man who thought that perhaps buying pet would ease his loneliness. So he went to the pet store and looked at many animals. He found himself drawn to one in particular. The sign over the cage read, “Talking Parrot: Guaranteed to talk.” Thinking that this would surely solve his problem, the man brought the cage up to the merchant at the counter.

“That’ll be $250, please.”

A week later the man returned, disappointed.

“This parrot isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder and talk?”
“Ladder? You didn’t tell me about a ladder!”
Oh, sorry. The ladder is $10.”

So the man bought the ladder, brought it home, and put it in the cage. Another week went by and the man returned to the pet store.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, and talk?”
“Mirror? You didn’t mention anything about a mirror!”
“Oh, sorry. It’ll be $10 for the mirror.”

So the man bought the mirror, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder. Another week went by and the man returned to the pet store again.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, and talk?”
“Bell? You didn’t say anything about a bell!”
“Oh, sorry. The bell is $10.”

So the man bought the bell, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder and the mirror. Yet another week went by and the man returned to the pet store.

“This parrot still isn’t talking!”
“You mean to say that he didn’t climb the ladder, look in the mirror, peck the bell, jump on the swing, and talk?”
“Swing? You didn’t tell me about a swing!”
“Oh, sorry. It’ll be $10 for the swing.”

So the man bought the swing, brought it home, and put it in the cage along with the ladder, the mirror, and the bell. One more week went by and the man returned to the pet store again.

“How’s your parrot?”
“He’s dead!”
“Dead? Did he ever talk before he died?”
“Yes, he did finally talk.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?’”

Lesson 1: Promises, Promises

The world and the “prince of this world” are always promising results, yet when those results aren’t forthcoming there are only more demands. First the bird, then the ladder, the bell, the mirror, and the swing. There is always just one more thing that’s needed before the perfect result comes! But it’s a lie. The lie comes in many forms: you just need one more accessory, or the upgraded version of the app, or just one more drink, or a newer car, or a bigger house, or a face lift, or bariatric surgery. Yes, you just need one more thing and then you’ll be there. Happiness is always just past the next purchase.

In speaking to the woman at the well, Jesus said, Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again (Jn 4:13). And that is the sober truth about this world: it cannot finally quench our thirst, which is a thirst for God and Heaven. But time and time again we go back to the world and listen to the same lie, thinking that this time it will be different.

Surely it is sensible to make use of the things of this world to aid us in accomplishing our basic duties, but they are not the answer to our deeper needs. The big lie is that they are the answer. And when they fail to satisfy us, the lie just gets bigger, declaring that just a little more of it will surely close the deal.

Lesson 2: The One Thing Most Necessary

In buying the ladder, mirror, bell, and swing, the man neglected the most important thing: food. So, too, for us. We seek to accumulate worldly toys and trinkets that are passing, while neglecting eternal and lasting realities. We seem to find time for TV, sports, shopping, etc., but neglect or completely forget about prayer, Scripture, the Sacraments, the Liturgy, worship, and the development of any kind of relationship with the Lord. We are staring into the mirror focused on our own self. The enticements of this world summon us to endless things, mostly trivial in the long run. We are climbing the ladder of success without regard as to what is at the top of that ladder.

All of these less important matters divert us from the one thing necessary: feeding our souls on the Lord. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him…the one who feeds on me will live because of me (Jn 6:56-58).

Ah, but there’s no time for all that. Getting to Mass, praying, receiving Holy Communion? No time! I hear a bell summoning me to just one more diversion, one more meeting. I’m too busy climbing the ladder of success. I’m too busy looking at myself in the mirror to make sure that I fit in, and that everyone likes me.

 “Dead? Did he ever talk before he died?”
“Yes, he did finally talk.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Don’t they sell any birdseed at that store?’”

Just a little parable on the lies of the devil and the empty promises of this world.

Close Your Umbrellas! A Mediation on a Saying at Fatima.

On at least two different occasions, Sr. Lucia gave the following instruction to the crowd at Fatima: “Close your umbrellas. Our Lady is coming!” In the pictures of the throngs gathered on the 13th of each month in Fatima, one can often see umbrellas. They were sometimes used to shield people from the rain, but even more often to provide shade from the strong sunlight.

“Close your umbrellas” isn’t exactly one of the more famous aspects of the message of Fatima. However, the instruction has something important to say to us, especially in these days of ease when we seem so inconvenienced by the slightest hint of sacrifice or even minor discomfort.

An umbrella is used to ward off the heat of a hot day or the soaking of the rain. The call to close our umbrella is a call to accept the sacrifices that are often necessary to purify us so that we can receive greater blessings. How many of us who are concerned with the condition of our culture and our world are willing to make sacrifices for the conversion of souls? We want things to get better, but are we willing to do things such as fast or pray the rosary daily? For us who are called to be prophets in this unbelieving time, are we willing to close our umbrella and endure the heat of scorn from those who resist our witness? Are we willing to endure the discomfort of annoyance, ridicule, indignation, or scoffing indifference raining down on us? Closing our umbrella involves accepting the sacrifices necessary to preach the Gospel.

To lower our umbrella is also a sign of humility, for in lowering it we lower ourselves; we experience our frailty, unprotected from the elements. Humility is the key to unlocking greater blessings, for if we do not lower the umbrella of our pride and close the umbrella of illusory self-sufficiency we will miss the miracle and glory of greater blessings.

Consider a mere physical fact: October 13, 1917 was a dreary, rainy day. Photos of the nearly 70,000 who gathered in Cova da Iria at Fatima show an abundance of umbrellas, testifying to the poor weather. At the critical moment, just before the miracle of the sun, when the rosary beads were finished, Lucia said, “Close your umbrellas. Our Lady is coming!” The miracle of the Sun was about to happen, but in order to see it, the people had to come out from under their umbrellas. They had to submit themselves to the rain and take up the momentary sacrifice, in order to dispose themselves to see the miracle.

Now humbly uncovered and having made the sacrifice they could see what the Lord would show. Here is an account of that day:

As if like a bolt from the blue, the clouds were wrenched apart, and the sun at its zenith appeared in all its splendor. It began to revolve like the most magnificent fire wheel that could be imagined, taking on all the colors of the rainbow and sending forth multicolored flashes of light, producing the most astounding effect. This was repeated three distinct times, lasted for about ten minutes. The immense multitude, overcome by the evidence of such a tremendous prodigy, threw themselves on their knees. … The sun, whirling, seemed to loosen itself from the firmament and advance threateningly upon the earth as if to crush us with its huge fiery weight. The sensation during those moments was terrible. … Then the light turned a beautiful blue, as if it had come through the stained-glass windows of a cathedral, and spread itself over the people who knelt with outstretched hands … people wept and prayed with uncovered heads, in the presence of a miracle they had awaited.

Thus we see that the people had to close their umbrella in order to see the miracle of the sun. This is a kind of paradigm for the whole spiritual life. If we are to see glory and experience graces it is often necessary to accept sacrifices and hardships and to humble ourselves by setting aside our self-designed protections. As long as we insist on hunkering down within our own enclosed world, we are turned inward and downward. Self-reliance too easily replaces faith and trust. We cling to our comforts rather than to the cross, which is our true ladder to glory and the key to Heaven’s gate.

What does it mean for you to close your umbrella? You will have to discern, with God, and see what it means. Perhaps it means discovering what things you are unreasonably relying on. Perhaps it means accepting some discomfort for the salvation of souls. Perhaps it means taking up a sacrificial practice such as voluntary abstinence, fasting, or additional prayers. Perhaps it is accepting a cross you already endure, but with less grumbling and complaining. Perhaps it means being willing to endure heat of other’s anger beating down upon you or the scorn of others raining down upon you as you speak up for what is true.

As an additional hint to help you discern, recall that Our Lady asked for the daily rosary. On May 13, 1917, Our Lady asked the three children, “Are you willing to offer yourselves to God and bear all the sufferings He wills to send you as an act of reparation for the conversion of sinners?”

In the end, we close our umbrella not only for our own sake, but also for the conversion of sinners. Find out what it means to close your umbrella.

Just a Common And Often Used Word With a Star-Struck Meaning!

Every now and then a word suddenly catches your ear, and suddenly you notice it several times in one day. You’re tempted to say, “There it is again!”

Recently, such was the case with the word “consider.” It’s just an ordinary, every-day word. Or is it? Why did it suddenly strike me so?

With my knowledge of Latin, it occurred to me that the word “consider” might have something to do with the stars, because the Latin word sidera means “stars” or “heavenly bodies.” How interesting! I’ve used the word for years and yet that thought had never crossed my mind before. As often happens, I forgot about it and didn’t investigate further.

But then in this morning’s reading from the Office, there it was again, in St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans: You must consider yourselves dead to sin but alive for God in Christ Jesus (Rom 6:11).

Okay, Lord, I got the message. You want me to consider the word “consider.” There’s something mystical and spiritual about it, isn’t there?

After prayer, I spent some time checking out my hypothesis. Sure enough, the word “consider” comes from the Latin words cum (with) and sidera (stars), yielding a meaning of “with the stars.”

Then I consulted a few dictionaries and collected the following definitions: to think about carefully, to think of especially with regard to taking some action, to take into account, to regard or treat in an attentive or kindly way, to gaze on steadily or reflectively, to come to regard.

The literal translation “with the stars” brings the word so much more alive, doesn’t it? If I were to create one, I would include this notion in my definition: to reflect on as if pondering the stars, to gaze as if with wonder and awe, to think carefully and reflectively as when one looks up and out at the night sky.

Yes, to look up and out, billions of miles out into the vastness of space, filled with innumerable stars.

To consider is to root our thoughts in the perspective of the stars. Doing so fills us with wonder and awe, reminds of the extravagance of God’s love, humbles us by the sheer vastness of all that God has done. To consider is to see by the light of God’s glory and His expansive love. To consider is to think in a way that sees the present moment as caught up in something far more than the here and now; it is to experience this moment, this place and time, as part of something far greater than we can imagine.

Thus, in Romans 6:11 St. Paul is inviting us to grasp that God’s mercy and love are bigger than any sin we may have committed. We are being summoned to look beyond the present moment and behold with wonder and awe the perfection that God has already accomplished for us.

As we behold and understand that reality, we start to live out of it now. As we cast our thoughts out among the stars, as we consider, we look outward and upward from the present reality to the glory awaiting us in Heaven. Making this consideration helps that reality begin to break into the present moment and become ever more real to us and for us.

As it breaks in, sins begin to be put to death and virtues come alive. Our life begins to change as we see beyond the present moment, where there may be weakness and pain, to the victory that is ours and is so much bigger than this mere moment. Thus we become alive to God in Christ Jesus.

All of this from one little word: consider. To reflect as if pondering the stars, to gaze as if with wonder and awe, to think carefully and reflectively as when one looks up and out at the night sky.

Yes, words are wonderful and many of them are mystical. Think about it; the stars encourage you to look up and out, to gaze beyond with wonder and awe, to consider.

It’s not a bad thing to do when seeking perspective or pondering paths, when searching for answers or meaning, when searching for God.

Give it some consideration.