The Telephone Game: RC Style

Remember the telephone game? You sat in a circle with a bunch of other kids and someone whispered a message to the person next to them, who whispered it to the person next to them, and so on until it reached the final person in the circle. They then said what the message they heard was.

Of course the message at the end didn't resemble the original message. And if there were boys involved, more often than not the end message included something about burps or farts.

Imagine if the Catholic Church employed the telephone game. Well, in a very real sense it does. Jesus gave a message to the disciples, who then passed it on to others, who then passed in on to others, and so on for over 2,000 years. But there's a unique twist to the telephone game: Roman Catholic style. The Holy Spirit guides its leaders, and if it looks like the message is getting mixed-up, church leaders step in and correct the message.

Picture it: little Jimmy is going to insert his fart message, and the teacher steps in and clearly says to everyone, "Um, actually, Jimmy, Suzie's message had nothing to do with bodily noises. She said, 'Spring flowers smell nice.'"

Sound anything like the role of the magesterium? Right from the very beginning, people were messing up Jesus' message. Sometimes it is the sender's fault, sometimes there is just too much noise to clearly hear the message or there could be an issue on the receiver's end. Sometimes it's on purpose; other times it's an innocent error that needs a little guidance toward the true message. It doesn't matter. Our Spirit-inspired leaders are there to step in and correct the message. It may take time for a council to clarify the message. It may not be popular. It always adheres to the truth of God's saving love.

So, when people say the next pope should be more modern (or whatever way they spin it) it's kinda like little Jimmy's immature attempt at altering the message. That's not the message Jesus started. That's not the message the church has preserved for more than two millennia. It's not the message the 266th pope will allow to be passed to the next generation.

Holy Spirit, continue to inspire us, strengthen us to uphold the truth and enkindle in us the fire of your love.

I'm full...of what?

I recently saw an image that depicts an interesting spin on the the glass half full or half empty supposition. It's likely neither new or original, but it got me thinking.

The image says, "Technically, the glass is always full."

My knee-jerk reaction was, "What smart-ass wrote that?" Swiftly followed by, "Why wasn't I clever enough to think of that?" A quick search on the ol' inter-web revealed it's not new, and it's entirely possible the question was originally a trick question with "always full" being the correct answer. It's optimist vs. pessimist philosophical view may be a later variation—likely promoted and perpetuated by people who don't like trick questions.

Back to my (hopefully) more relevant thoughts on this. If our proverbial cup (cf. Psalm 23:5) is always full, what is it full of? Ideally, it's so full of God's love and grace it overflows. I'm not there yet, and I venture a guess you're not either.

It can be full of two things: virtue or vice (a.k.a grace or sin). Each can go by various aliases. The names don't change the reality they are in direct competition with one another. They can exist together, but they cannot intermingle any more than water and oil.

One's cup is full of whatever you put into it (deep, huh?). And you can only make room for what you want in it by getting rid of what you don't want in it. For argument's sake, let's say the air in the cup is sin or vice and water is grace or virtue (it helps with the runneth over imagery).

Every act of selfishness or anger, lie (no matter how white), our greed, envy and vanity—every sin—evaporates some water, leaving us with less to quench the life our souls desire. And the less we have, the drier our mouths get. It's kinda like that itch that you didn't know was there until you thought about being itchy, and the more you think about not scratching the itchier it gets. Eventually our bodies become dehydrated; we get more and more starved for the life-giving water of God's grace and mercy—Jesus himself.

Conversely, if we want to get rid of the air, we'd either need to create a vacuum or add more water. Since life doesn't happen in a vacuum, adding more water seems more plausible. Drop by drop, good deed by good deed, decision to love by decision to love, we can fill our cup with cool, refreshing, thirst quenching, living water.

Fortunately for us, the downward spiral of sin isn't self-perpetuating to the point we totally dry-up and turn to dust (unless we let it). God is always offering grace, the strength to add drops of water to our cup. The strength to put the needs of our spouse, children, friends, co-workers, and enemies ahead of our own desires that adds one more drop of water to our cup. And each drop makes it easier to make the choice to add more drops.

Better yet, we have the oasis of sacramental confession. It's the trump card, the ace in the hole, the garden hose that's always on and refills our cup. AND there's eucharist that literally feeds us, quenches us, fills us.

The choice is yours. What are you going to fill your cup with? Life, no matter your vocation, offers many chances every day to add drops of water to your cup. How are you going to respond?

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may we accept the grace given us, so that with you, our cups may overflow for all eternity.

Charity begins at home

Lent is upon us. This year, Pope Benedict XVI (yes, he is still our pope for a few more weeks) asks us to focus on "the indissoluble interrelation" between faith and charity. I invite you to read his lenten message. Wait! Read the rest of this post first.

He describes faith as a response to God's love—I think most of us have a pretty good grasp of what faith is and it's importance in or relationship with God. God loves us. We respond with a belief in His love and mercy and saving grace offered through Jesus.

I'm not so convinced we have the same familiarity with charity. We hear or use the word often, but do we really understand it? We give to charities. We say charity begins at home. We try to behave charitably. But what do those things mean?

I think we have watered-down charity to be synonymous with kindness. We share our material things out of kindness, or even a sense of obligation, when we give to a charity or non-profit organization—even our own parishes. Kindness is itself a worthy virtue, but don't lose sight of the fact charity is a theological virtue, the highest virtue that will never pass (cf. 1 Cor 13:13).

If faith is our initial response, charity is the next step, and every step thereafter.

Faith is knowing the truth and adhering to it (cf. 1 Tim 2:4); charity is “walking” in the truth (cf.Eph 4:15). Through faith we enter into friendship with the Lord, through charity this friendship is lived and cultivated (cf. Jn 15:14ff). Faith causes us to embrace the commandment of our Lord and Master; charity gives us the happiness of putting it into practice (cf. Jn 13:13-17). In faith we are begotten as children of God (cf. Jn 1:12ff); charity causes us to persevere concretely in our divine sonship, bearing the fruit of the Holy Spirit (cf. Gal 5:22). Faith enables us to recognize the gifts that the good and generous God has entrusted to us; charity makes them fruitful (cf. Mt 25:14-30).

We don't give to charity, we give charity. Love, charity, only exists when it is given. And not just given out of obligation or kindness or to make ourselves feel good. Charity always focuses on the well-being of the other, and in the Christian sense the ultimate well-being of the other is knowing and loving God.

Just like a river ceases to be a river when the water no longer flows, our actions cease being charity when they are done without love. Love is only love when it flows from God through us to others.

Indeed, charity does begin at home. Walking in truth, living and cultivating intimate relationships, the happiness of putting into practice the Lord's command of love, being fruitful all begins with the covenant love of a husband and wife and flows to our children. This needs to be more than a philosophy or lofty goal. It needs to be put into practice.

Therein lies the challenge of our lenten journey. How are you putting your responses of faith and charity into action. How are you embodying charity to your spouse and your children. If you're anything like me, the answer is, "Sporadically. With great difficulty. Only by the grace of God."

As we go through our rituals of prayer, fasting and almsgiving this lent, let's do so with charity as both our motivation and our filter.

Oh, and one last thought: note the word "happiness" in the pope's quote above. It's a penitential season, but it's not a sour season.

St. Joseph, pray for us that we may grow in faith and abound in charity.

Is it me?

Have you ever had something happen that makes you a little self-conscious—makes you ask, "Is it me?"

There are typical scenarios that prompt typical responses. People in a meeting may give you a liberal amount of personal space that prompts a quick and subtle sniff of the underarms or breathing into your hand that either confirms or refutes the reason for ample stretching room.

When the demeanor of the kids falls more rapidly then the stock market in 2008, parents can, and often do, internalize the situation and ask, "Is it me? Am I that bad of a parent?"

The other day my kids were a perfect four-for-four in breaking down and crying. They fell like dominoes, one right after the other. I internalized it and thought my parenting techniques were sub-par.

Is it me?

After some thought, I came to the conclusion it is me. I made some decisions that weren't popular with the kids, but they were the right decisions. Boundaries were set, the kids pushed them too far and realized there are consequences to their behaviour. My attempt to teach them to make good decisions (or at least follow rules that lead to good decision making) wasn't totally effective on those with a less developed prefrontal cortex. And the outcome was an emotional outburst, or rather four of them.

Just like a dog doesn't realize the fence protects it from running into traffic and getting hurt, kids don't realize parents set boundaries for their good. We want to ensure our children grow up to be the person God created them to be, to realize the full potential inherent in them. It's an awesome responsibility, and at times you need to be unpopular because, well, because you're the parent with the fully developed brain (and a good dose of grace and guidance from the Holy Spirit) who is in a much better situation to make decisions.

So when the kids are having a meltdown that makes Chernobyl look like a spring thaw and you feel like it's because of you, take some comfort that it probably is you—and that's a good thing.

If you think that's annoying...

Remember that seen in Dumb and Dumber, starring Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels when they are riding in a truck and Carrey's character asks, "Want to hear the most annoying sound in the world?"



I'm pretty sure the writers didn't have kids. If they had, they would have known, that although that is a super-annoying noise, children produce far more annoying sounds more often and at higher decibels.

Here's my list of sounds that make me want to puncture my own eardrums, invest a horrendous amount of money on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones or just rock in the corner in a fetal position:

• barnyard noises; the most common one in our house is a horse; one of these days I will see horses grazing in our front yard because they heard the call in their pasture
• that song that has been on repeat for the last four hours and will be in my head for the next six days (yes, even if it is Cat Chat it's borderline torture)
• incessant whining from the resident barbershop quartet (would it be more tolerable if they were in harmony?)
• thump, period of silence, loud wailing (this one's not really annoying, but you never like to hear it)
• Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. (should I be thankful it's Mom not Dad?)
• Can I have a treat? Can I have a treat? Can I have a treat?
• any other phrase that is repeated more than last night's re-fried bean burrito
• I don't like [insert whatever food being served] even though they have eaten several portions of  it at each sitting for years
• screaming that makes the ears of the dog next door bleed
• Can I play Angry Birds? when it's the first day in a week that the temperature is above -25 C (-30 C if  you count the windchill)
• anything between the hours of midnight and 6 am
• oddly enough, Sara, our oldest, makes a sound that is eerily similar to the one in the movie; I remember laughing at that scene in the theatre, that sentiment no longer exists
• all the kids humming at the same time at the table; why is it never the same tune and why does it get louder and louder?
• any variation of Jingle Bells in the summer
• can you wipe me?—when it comes from the bathroom
• the he-said-she-said debate about why someone is crying

As I write this, I should have just recorded the audio coming from the background; that would have summed-up a lot of the above.

Add to the list with your favourite annoying children noises.

Pope's message on fatherhood

There's a not whole lot I can add to the Pope's comments on fatherhood. Maybe I'll take a closer look at parts in future posts, but for now here are some links:

Summary
Full Text

The challenge has been laid for fathers. How will you respond?

Newton's law of parenting

It's a little known fact that Newton's third law of nature was first coined as the first law of parenting. Newton's contemporaries thought it would more appropriate to lump it with the other two laws of nature instead of having a separate category. Not being a parent himself, Newton eventually bowed to peer pressure.

Let's go back to science class and review what the first, um, the third law of nature is: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. To form the law of nature, it was edited from it's original law of parenting script that clarified "every negative action."

Without the law, an interaction with your child may look something like this. Your child throws the mother-of-all-tantrums because she was given the green cup and orange plate, when everyone knows that for lunch on Tuesday she is to have orange cup and the green plate. This is compounded by the fact you gave her the food she asked for, not the food she wanted, and then you had the nerve to look at her and call her Darling. Your reaction? Explaining that the orange cup is dirty in the dishwasher and you verified this was the meal she wanted on four separate occasions through gritted teeth—and that's the G-rated version of your reaction, hypothetically of course.

Since that would be a similar, not opposite, reaction to the initial negative action, you would have broken Newton's law. Inconceivable!

Following the law of parenting, your reaction to the nagging, talking back, incessant crying, complaining, ungratefulness, anxiety, anger, frustration and outright ornery behaviour needs to be opposite—compassion, understanding, patience, kindness, guidance, reassurance, comfort, security. In a word, love.

Fr. Robert Barron, in his book Catholicism, summarizes this concept exceptionally well when writing about the notion of turning the other cheek. Instead of a vengeful eye-for-an-eye attitude when someone—especially someone little who is in our care—wrongs us, Jesus teaches us we need to respond with kindness and love. Fr. Barron points out we don't become passive and let people walk all over us. We respond in a way that prompts true conversion of heart for others.

For our children, that means we don't engage in their devious mind games or power struggles. Parents respond in a way that prompts conversion. We ensure boundaries and expectations are well-defined, and we lovingly teach them positive behaviour trumps negative. 

Yes, I am fully aware of how challenging that is, but all virtue is challenging. And all virtue is reinforced when, by grace, practiced over time. One encounter at a time, your loving reaction will result in conversion—maybe for more than our children.

St. Joseph, protector of families and patron of fathers, pray for us.

Transparency

I was watching an episode of Blue Planet that featured life on the ocean floor. Talk about evidence that God has a vivid imagination—wow! The creatures that live in an environment almost totally void of light are unique to say the least. The fang fish has teeth too large to close its mouth. Angler fish (yes, the kind in Finding Nemo) use luminescent "lures" to hunt. A squid squirts a time-delayed ink that lights up after it has already gone to avoid being lunch. One fish has a mouth so big it can swallow prey its own size. And the size of the eyes on some—think of those greeting cards with the cute animals whose eyes are bulging off the card. Yeah, those eyes are small.

Some fish are transparent. Apparently it's hard for other fish to eat what they can't see. What an incredible defence mechanism! I'm sure we all think it be great to be transparent at times.

To God, we are. There's no hiding a single thing from Him—we're totally transparent. Our survival depends on it. It's our ticket to life. It seems counterintuitive because part of what God sees is our sin—the crud that would make us unpalatable if we were to be eaten. But the cool part is God doesn't want to devour us. His love for His beloved creation sees beyond all that, and he is able to see us in our full potential, as if we were to fully cooperate with his grace. He not only sees us as we are meant to be, he cleans us with the grace of forgiveness so we are more in sync with who He created us to be.

There are always potential hurdles—always self imposed—that can prevent us from being cleaned, distancing our actual selves from our potential Saintly selves. It's kinda like the transparent fish playing Marco Polo. It's counter-productive if you want to live. Lucky for us God is both patient and persistent, not an opportunistic predator. Keep in mind there is one of those out there in our spiritual lives, so choose your swimming partner wisely.

St. Francis de Sales

Today is St. Francis de Sales' feast day. As patron of writers and journalists, it seems appropriate I give him some attention today. Read more about him at http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=51

One of his works, Introduction to the Devout Life may be my lenten reading this year.

St. Francis de Sales, pray for us.

Gotta love three year olds

Thanks to my sister-in-law for sharing this fall-down-laughing blog post. I count 26 that relate directly to my three year old, and if I were to count ones that are kinda close, I'm sure it would be close to 40. We fall short because we don't have a cat or iPad.