Why

When you default

to questioning

the validity

of the Electoral College,

your arguments

are already lost.

Period.

All else

is merely

an extrapolation

of this statement.

Why?

Why?

Why continue to believe

when we live in a world

where science now explains

so much of the world

to us?

Why believe 

when we live in a world

where literature explains

how so many beliefs

came from the need

to fill in

what science couldn't?

Why believe

when it seems

as if it can only be

a story,

maybe even

a very good one,

the greatest story ever told,

as has been said,

when so much dispute

in two thousand years

has bee introduced

into how that story

came into being?

Even Paul,

our missionary,

came late to the table

and never met Christ,

and the Jews

are still the Jews,

and they refuse

to this day,

to reach the same conclusions,

and the record,

they say,

even outside Christian texts,

was tampered with,

is unreliable,

and so much

is so easy to ridicule,

now,

and we have our reason

and we are ever on a quest

to better ourselves,

and this means

old things

must be cast away,

a beach ball in an ocean

who failed a friend

just by floating away...

Too many parallels,

too many coincidences,

it's all just made up, right?

Except.

Except.

Even putting aside the martyrs,

because there will always be zealots

willing to do anything,

the Christians never went away,

and all they wanted

was to see the world around them

get better.

They were inspired

by a man,

by men and women

who believed in him,

and sold his story

based on incredible things,

and all that snowballed

for centuries

and there were disagreements

and the world as we know it

came into being,

and while we argue now

it was all a mistake

we wouldn't be here

if it hadn't been made,

the whole world would be different,

and the people who say this is a mistake

would be calling the world they would have

a mistake, too,

because that world would be Roman,

or some other empire,

and what will have been lost

is a world

where it's possible

to believe

in the best of all possible worlds

(with apologies to Candide, who didn't believe),

an argument made by people

who followed a man

who preached a message

about a kingdom

that is not of this world

but through which

we might see it

every day,

in all of us,

if we look,

if we don't spend all our time

looking at the worst 

but rather at the best,

even if it's just potential,

and it's always potential,

it will always be potential,

and it's not about what happens next,

something you win

as if it's a game

something you can fake

and cheat at,

feel good about,

because it's not about feeling good

because sometimes it really does hurt

to do the right thing,

and this is something

too too few of us

want to understand,

let alone are capable of,

and yet the story goes

that's how it began,

for God so loved the world...

A Late Arrival from Camelot

As may have been mentioned,

Kennedy was a Catholic,

and my mom perhaps revered him

for that reason,

or maybe for a lot of reasons,

as she was twenty-one

the year he was assassinated,

and had once sewn a robe

for him, and how many people

can say that?

And anyway

she never forgot

her fascination

with him

but in later years

found it difficult

to forgive him

his weaknesses

(which, all told,

was not very Catholic

of her).

But here I am

and I have all these memories

of these important people

in my life,

and they remain

intertwined,

sort of imbedded

in stone,

the bedrock

of my life.

I could think of worse things.

The Sounds of Silence

Somewhat belatedly

I discovered a new treasure,

which was Disturbed's cover

of "The Sound of Silence,"

which is a masterpiece.

A completely inexplicable one.

But that's what it's all about,

really,

how you're meant 

to understand the world

around you,

in all the ways

that aren't spelled out,

in all the silence,

in Silence, a book

and as a film,

a desperate yearning

to understand

why you should be believe

when all you hear

is silence,

when it's all a matter of faith

in a world

that seems so unjust,

where you're supposed to believe

that if you pray

things will work out,

and yet that's not faith,

that's not Catholic faith,

and never was,

and I'm sorry if that's what

you believed

and need to believe

or you won't believe,

because that's not what it is,

but rather

coming to grips

with a world

that will go out of its way

to alienate you

at every turn,

and still believe

there's worth in it,

that there's value

in the struggling cries

of an infant

who needs you

who needs you

who needs you

to fill in the space

around its needs

and help it appreciate

silence

but not always need it.

Paradise Lost & Found

Sometimes

people are gonna lie to you.

And they'll do it

out of your ignorance

or your lack

of curiosity,

your not bothering

to look into it

for yourself,

the belief

that something

is impenetrable

and so you can just trust

what they tell you.

Right?

In college

I took a class

where Paradise Lost

was explained

as Lucifer's fall from grace.

I admit,

if it was something

I was supposed to have read,

either complete

or excerpt,

I certainly

have no memory

of it.

At some point

I acquired a copy,

later, 

as an adult,

as a mature

appreciator

of fiction.

And eventually

I read it,

either for the first time,

or again,

but the result

was the same

all the same,

which is to say

it was a revelation.

I have no sympathy for the devil.

And that's not even

what Milton wrote.

His is a grand sweep

of the whole story,

of Lucifer

failing to fulfill

the role

Christ assumed,

the good son,

however you want to view it,

the most literary interpretation

of the faith

that dominated the world

for two thousand years.

If the Christian world

fades into myth,

then Milton

will be its Homer.

It's that simple.

The Book of Kells

Here's some bit of irony for you:

Since I've been

a book person,

a reader,

all my life,

I've sort of stumbled

into opportunities

that might never occur

to anyone else

in my family.

One such

was when I got in the mail

an offer

for an edition

of the Book of Kells.

My mom thought

it was a terrible idea,

no doubt

some pagan garbage.

I admit,

at the time

I didn't know

what it was.

And,

well,

she was wrong.

And I missed

a vivid opportunity.

A Reconciliation

Everyone always kind of assumes

that Catholics are intolerant.

And maybe they are,

but not all of them.

Some of us

are always immersed

in the business

of reconciliation.

In Neil Gaiman's comic book The Sandman

there's a character called Fiddler's Green,

who is based on the writer G.K. Chesterton,

an intellectual and literary figure

from just before C.S. Lewis,

who famously wrote

The Chronicles of Narnia,

an allegory

for Catholic faith

in which the lion Aslan

enacts the part

of Christ

and had subsequently

been counterpointed

by Philip Pullman,

whose works

have somewhat failed

to find the same public traction,

including with the film adaptation

The Golden Compass.

Now, 

I knew all this

when I went to see it

in the theater

upon original release.

I knew all this

and how desperately

Pullman's fans

would like his books

to be as beloved

as C.S. Lewis's.

I take no great pride

in suggesting

perhaps they never will be.

When I was growing up

the Catholic Church

was making strides

in revisiting the rest

of the Christian world,

in what it called

ecumenical assemblies,

which in practical terms

meant we were encouraged

to visit other houses of worship

which we duly did,

and in this way

we all of us saw

how close our times

really were,

one extended community.

Now, I have no idea

how everyone else saw it

or if there were tangible results

to bind back up

the wounds

of the Protestant Reformation,

or if this was all a coda

to a Christian world,

but this was one visible way

in which

a reconciliation with the greater world

was made clear to me,

which was why

in my subsequent years

I have navigated waters

and entertained ideas

such that I have read

comic books like The Sandman,

which otherwise

might be considered

to have ideas

not in strict alignment

with Catholic beliefs.

Too often

being Catholic

is viewed

as building moats

when it's really an act

of building bridges.

If Neil Gaiman

can appreciate Chesterton,

I can certainly

appreciate Neil Gaiman.

One can argue

which one wins

in the bargain.

We all have our ideas.

To Be a Contrarian

To be a Catholic

is to be

a contrarian.

This is a funny thing to think,

since much of the popular narrative

of modern life

would seem to suggest

very much

the opposite.

But that goes hand-in-hand

with those origins,

all that resentment,

that's been playing out

for some five hundred years.

But all the same it's true.

It was a contrarian

that suggested

Roman life

wasn't good enough

to dictate cultural norms.

I don't think it was

a rebellion

or yearning

for independence

that provoked this,

or even the idea

of a messiah,

but an awareness

that there was

a better way

to live,

that acknowledged

basic human dignity.

Which is funny,

since so many early Catholics

died in undignified ways

in order to argue this.

To be a Catholic

you sort of hear

about these early martyrs

a lot;

they're not buried

in the rush

to reach

some philosophical point

explaining why we had

to leave

the faith

in order

to purify it.

But to hear Christians

talk about persecution

today,

the "war on Christmas," 

it's not really

to understand

what they mean,

and less so

coming from a Catholic.

To be a Catholic

is to be a contrarian.

Even among Catholics

it's not good enough

to say you're Catholic,

because even Catholics

can't agree

what being Catholic

means.

So even among Catholics

there are contrarians,

which is why I say

to be Catholic

is to be a contrarian.

It's to be

out of step

with the world,

which has been so busy

trying to distance itself

from that time

when the whole world

seemed Catholic.

(And I do say "seemed,"

which is to say,

to the European world.)

(Which itself

is a distinction lost

on all those

still fighting

a war they seem

to have won.)

I could go on,

but that wouldn't be

very catholic

(and again, 

I guess it would.)

Them Papist Boys (& Girls)

So yeah,

it hasn't been easy

being Catholic,

and this is to say nothing

of the scandal

that has blackened

the Church's reputation

in recent decades,

predatory priests

preying on children.

In some ways

it's the most convenient scandal ever,

as it vindicates

an argument 

that has been made

throughout American history,

which becomes harder to see

in an age

where being Christian at all

is becoming harder to see

than ever.

But them papist boys (and girls!)

have had to worry about this

at about the same clip

as any other minority

and even bundled

in the same subset communities,

such as the immigrant

Franco-Americans

from which I descend,

aging communities,

dwindling,

with all the children

hidden away

except the fundamentalists

filling up the pews

in Latin masses.

There are no excuses

for these priests

but it's a bit

misleading

to claim

they represent

the whole faith,

which is itself

a plea

to see past

human fallibility,

to believe

we can do better.

And as such,

it's disingenuous

to claim you're doing better

by pretending

these people

who have built their entire lives

around a faith 

built on such belief,

are surplus to current needs.

Somewhere

the idea of integrity

went into hiding.

Origins, 11

Part of the reason

Quebec

is always on the verge

of declaring independence

is because of that French language,

its lingering connections

to France

rather than England,

including that pesky adherence

to the Catholic faith.

Which of course means

that my Canadian ancestors

lived here,

and that's part of what

they brought with them,

being driven

by that invisible persecution,

that permissible hate,

that acceptable bigotry,

just more white people

in a white population

mostly guilty about other skin colors,

and not much else,

nothing meaningful,

nothing that would notice

tolerance

or basic humanity,

which by the way,

is what Catholics do,

which is the whole point.

Which is why it's so easy

and so hard

to be a Catholic today.

But worth it.

Origins, 10

Another funny thing happened...

Eventually,

the Catholic Church

became the enemy.

You can see it

most clearly,

in England,

in the formation

of the Church of England,

and the bloody disputes

for power

that resulted,

and that's another thing

that was transplanted

to the Americas,

a deep-seated

most often invisible

hatred for "papists,"

those conspirators

whispering behind closed doors

with their secret allegiance 

to Rome,

stymying in the 20th century,

the ambitions of Al Smith,

and reshaping the image

of Camelot

to smooth over

the babyface

of JFK,

so he wouldn't sweat

so much

as Nixon.

And it's been the same

ever since.

Origins, 9

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum.

This is to say,

on the way to our current debates.

The Muslim tide rolled,

setting up splintered defenses

and new identities,

and that is what produced

the Reformation,

a sudden new need

for control,

for identity,

new ways to view

the Christian world,

...not so much

the condemnations

and criticisms

history will tell us

made such things necessary,

but a splintering

in a shattered shield,

an infinity of crusades

that fight endlessly

over the same ground

to this day.

And on this rock

we roll ever onward,

convinced 

it rolls away,

and yet,

and yet...

Origins, 8 (The Dark Ages)

With Europe

increasingly encircled

by the Catholic Church

it stands to reason

and stands on reason

that the Church dominated affairs,

and this is what happened,

and yet

in ages later,

we called this period

the Dark Ages

as if to call it

a dark spot

for civilization

when in fact

during the transition

of a single mass power

on the continent

to a wide variety

it was the Church alone

that kept the fires of learning,

lit.

This was the birth

of the modern age,

and ought to be celebrated,

not condemned,

and this is where we see

through a glass, darkly,

the dark heart of a later age

casting its shadow backward

and of course forward

when we still have yet

to emerge from it

and call those dark ages light.

Origins, 7

It's suggested

too often

that Constantine converted

out of convenience.

This is mostly to say,

it delegitimizes

the results.

Or tries to.

It says,

the Catholic Church

killed the Roman Empire

and woe betide!

When what it really means

is that the Catholic Church

continued the Roman Empire

straight to the present day,

a seamless continuity

that saw a considerable 

improvement

of affairs.

Origins, 6

Growing up Catholic

it was inescapable

the inhuman barbarism

the Roman Empire subjected

the early martyrs to, 

in the entertainments

of the age.

This alone needs unpacking.

Catholics are told

how these martyrs

willingly embraced

their horrible fates

often in the jaws of lions

while spectators watched

(execution as public spectacle

being something we have

finally, finally gotten past

in the modern civilized world),

rather than deny their faith,

a kind of conviction

we later generations find

inconceivable.

These martyrs

are the symbols

of what the early Christians

sought to correct,

not the civilizing nature

of the Empire

but its lack of basic civility,

an awareness that

human life

is not trivial,

and we truly have no idea

what the Christian movement

accomplished,

since we live in a Christian world,

not a Roman one,

or any other,

and our concepts of morality

are Christian,

not Roman.

Take away the cross

and you will lose it.

Period.

Origins, 5

Even if you dispute

when exactly

the New Testament

developed,

we have letters

from the generation after.

I think this is the salient point,

the one most often overlooked,

that we have the next generation

of the faith

on the record,

and if we have that generation,

and no one seriously doubts

at least Paul...

This is where my argument begins,

why I think it's worth considering,

the miracles 

that happened

in some manner,

the life that was so consequential

to every life that followed,

the life that in its summation

asked us to try and be decent people

to each other.

Take everything else away,

and I think that alone

is worth championing,

a flame worth keeping

alive.

And we can trace it

pretty easily,

nearly all the way back

to the beginning.

Which seems to me

good enough

for the good it created,

and still can

if we just get out of its way.

Origins, 4

What we do have

are four gospels,

more or less in agreement,

about the life of a man

who claimed to be god,

but these followed

in the wake

of a series of letters

from a man named Paul,

who never claimed

to have met him,

who says he persecuted

the early church

along with 

the rest of the establishment

until he had an epiphany

and then became

a fearless defender

who in those letters

spends his time

complaining of the results

of all his travels.

Now, tell me why such a man

would fabricate a faith

for such results?

I'll wait.

Origins, 3

We don't have

what some people consider

sufficient documentation

of how it began.

They might ask

for somewhat impossible things.

They want

a record

of a life

that in its time

would have been

a quiet one,

weaving its way

through channels

both expected

and otherwise

on its way

to destiny,

an itinerant preacher

and healer

a messiah

in an age

when everyone expected

a crusader,

certainly not someone

dead on a cross

regardless of what happened

three days later.

This might be asking

too much.

What would you expect to find?

Preacher embraced

by those who found him

a nuisance?

Noted by those

who would have dismissed him?

A record of his ministry?

As it happened?

I don't think so.

Origins, 2

To be Catholic
is to understand

the Judaic roots,

to see the Old Testament

as a foundation,

to see history as prelude

to a story told

in the beginning,

a kind of echo

that reverberated

backwards

in order to define

its significance

going forward.

Origins, 1

I grew up Catholic,

in a Catholic family,

in a family that was Catholic

for many generations previous,

back to Canada,
back to France,

and someone in history

could trace it back further,

I don't know,

but suffice to say,

I was born into the faith.

My family was the kind

to attend not just weekly mass,

the obligatory weekend mass,

but daily mass,

and we were heavily involved

in all aspects of church life,

whether stuffing new missals & hymnals

into the plastic covers,

the several roles of readers,

altar servers...

We made friends with all the parish priests,
and that's all there ever was to know,

even that one that left the priesthood,

who played a game of Risk 

at our home,

and I guess a different kind

with his calling.

I don't mean "friends" 

in the sense we were friendly with them,

but that they were family friends,

one of whom became very involved
with the family,

who went out of his way

to help financially

when times were tough

(although there was talk

he had done this sort of thing before).

We practically made a second home

at church.

That's what I mean

by growing up

in the church.

Almost literally.

My two brothers

eventually left,

joining other denominations;

my sisters and I stayed.

I never considered leaving;

it just never made sense,

the way I understood my faith,

which is also not to say I did so

unquestioningly,

uncritically,

just not in the ways

so many other have

for two thousand years.

There's just so much

to unpack

with all that history,

it seems premature

to think I might have thought

of some reason to question it

that hasn't already

come up.

And so anytime I'm in a church,

it's like I'm at home.

It's kind of 

as simple

as that.