St. John Bosco parish Bulletin Letter: September 3, 2017

This weekend we celebrate Labor Day, a civil holiday that traditionally marks the unofficial end of summer. Some schools haven’t started their new year yet, and many families are taking one last opportunity to enjoy a camping trip or visit to the beach, as well as getting in one last summer cookout. The point of this observance is to remember that while work is important and good, we should also take time to enjoy the fruits of our labor.

For the Christian work is a way that we use our talents and abilities to support our families and to promote the common good of society. Work is a part of God's plan for humanity from the beginning. The Book of Genesis tells us that God didn’t permit the rain to fall until there were humans to till the earth. But Labor Day, much like the Sunday rest we are called to every week, is a reminder that we are called to work, but not be slaves. God created us free people. We are to work hard, but we need to always remember why we work. We work to cooperate with God, who calls us to be stewards of the earth. We work to develop our God given talents for the good of ourselves, our neighbor and society. When we become obsessed with money or things we can either work constantly, neglecting our family and our faith life. On the other side, if we are a business owner or a “boss,” we can exploit workers, forcing them to work on Sundays, for instance, making them have to choose between their legitimate responsibility to support their families and their responsibility to adore God on Sundays. 

I hope all of you are enjoying your Labor Day weekend. As we observe this civil holiday, may we remember the value of work, and also the importance of taking the time to honor God and enjoying the blessings we have received.  

St. John Bosco parish Bulletin Letters: August 20 & 27, 2017

Both these letters, that already appeared in the parish bulletin, are related, so I'm publishing them here together. Sorry for posting them late.

August 20th:
In the month of August we celebrate three feasts that remind us of the Resurrection of the Lord, and the life of the world to come. The first is the Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord, on August 6, the other two focus on our Blessed Mother; the Assumption on the 15th and the Queenship of Mary a week later on the 22nd. They are reminders to us that the world as we know it is passing away, and that we need to keep our eyes focused the things that last.
The feast of the Transfiguration recalls the time that Jesus took Peter, James and John up a tall mountain and revealed himself to them in his glory. He did this to reassure them during a difficult moment. Jesus had told the twelve that he was to go to Jerusalem, be handed over to the authorities and be killed, but on the third day he would rise again. The Apostles didn’t understand what he was saying: they understood death, but the idea of rising again was confusing. When Jesus appeared in his glory, with Moses and Elijah by his side, it was sign that he was the fulfillment of the Old Testament promises, and that his death on the cross would lead to the glory of the resurrection. 

In the Assumption of Mary on August 15, we remember that Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, when the course of her earthly life had come to an end. She heard the world of God and lived it day after day, being obedient to God’s plan for her. She said yes to God’s call to be mother of the Redeemer. Just as she was freed from the guilt and consequences of original sin from the moment of her conception, God preserved her from the decay of the tomb. In both of these great graces Mary is a sign of the future resurrection we will all share in. On August 22 we celebrate the Queenship of Mary, when our Blessed Mother was crowned Queen of Heaven. 


In these three feasts we are reminded that our destiny is heaven. We pass through trials and tribulation now. We all, one way or another, carry a cross of suffering. It may be family troubles that we are burdened with, or may be some addiction. We may have to live with uncertainties at work. We may have to struggle with illness, be it our own or of a loved one. We are all called to be concerned with the causes of peace and justice, understanding that we have been given to world to care for and protect. But we shouldn’t be discouraged. We have our part to play, but we are only a part of the solution. These struggles will go on long after we are gone. But when we do face God at our judgment he will ask us how we worked to spread his Kingdom of love and peace: not if we completed the task, but did we leave the world a better place than we found it? It is then that we will enter paradise, sharing the glory of Christ gained for us by his passion and death. 

August 27th:
Last week I wrote about three recent feasts that point us to the reality of the resurrection. Recently I noticed that in August we also celebrate a number of martyrs, and I’d like to share a reflection on Christian martyrdom with you now. A martyr is a witness to Christ. While there are many ways we can witness to our faith, martyrs surrender their life rather than deny Christ. 

Two of the feasts remember martyrs from the early Church, and two commemorate martyrs from the last century. In both cases these Christian witnesses were victims of brutal political systems that believed that the Gospel of Jesus was a threat to their power. Pope St. Sixtus II (August 7) and St. Lawrence the deacon (August 10) were killed by Roman authorities. St. Sixtus, along with four deacons, was beheaded while he offered the Eucharist in the catacombs of Rome. Three days later St. Lawrence was famously roasted to death over a grill after a life of caring for the needs of the poor. St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, whose birth name was Edith Stein (August 9) and Maximillian Kolbe (August 14) both died in Nazi concentration camps during World War II.

What all these martyrs have in common is that they could have avoided losing their lives, but chose not to. Pope Sixtus could have hid or escaped the persecution, but instead he went to where the authorities knew he would be, celebrating the Mass, which was forbidden by law. Lawrence could have handed over the sacred chalices and other religious objects, but instead he sold them, giving the money to the poor.  When asked to hand over the “treasure of the Church,” Lawrence presented the Roman official with the poor and homeless who had gathered with him. Edith Stein could have used her status as a Carmelite nun to win her freedom from the concentration camp, but chose to stay with her people: a Jew who died witnessing for Christ. Maximilian Kolbe, a Franciscan friar, could have minded his own business, but instead volunteered to take the place of a condemned man, since that man had a wife and family. Each in their own way did not avoid the trial the Lord presented them with, but faced hate with the greatest love of all.

We must always remember that we should never seek out martyrdom. It is also true that no one has to die a martyr. If it can be avoided, then we should avoid it. But if we are faced with a situation where avoiding martyrdom would mean publicly denying Jesus, then we should ask for the grace to accept it. Christian martyrdom means accepting violence and hatred, not inflicting it. Someone who kills himself and others in the name of God isn’t a martyr. But the one, who out of love, surrenders his or her life rather than denying the faith is an example for all of us.

Reflections of the Meaning and Legacy of the Civil War, Part I

Getting ready for a reenactment

It was only in 2015 that our nation concluded its four year observance of the 150th anniversary of the Civil War. While I didn't follow the progression of battle anniversaries with any particular devotion, it was hard for me to remain totally oblivious. One of my Salesian confrere is a Civil War reenactor, complete with officer's uniform, a military hat with plumage and a set of 19th century vestments that he uses while celebrating Mass for the "troops." He even has a sword. (He represents the Union army, in case you're wondering). He didn't get to all the battlefields for their respective commemorations, but it was kind of fun following his comings and goings via Facebook. When he's not ministering to the sons of the Army of the Potomac, he goes to schools, in full regalia, to give a presentation to the children. He even got a few of his fellow  reenactors to come to our high school in New York to stage a little skirmish in the parking lot one time. 

This intense interest in the Civil War may seem like an obsession to some, but Fr. Dave isn't alone in his fascination with this bloodiest of American wars. I've known many men who have made themselves amateur historians on the conflict (I'm sure there are some women too, but I haven't run into any). They can tell you, in detail, the state and county of origin of particular regiments, the movements of the armies, troop strengths, commanding officers, strategies employed and maneuvers that failed, along with casualty numbers, and they often go off on rather detailed narratives of the events. The best ones can fool you into thinking that they were really there, at Manassas, at Antietam, at Gettysburg, during the heat of battle, their command of the information is so great. 

This dedication to keeping alive the memory of a conflict is only rivaled by some people's interest in World War II. But war was a "simpler" thing in the 1860's. It's much harder, to say the least, to reenact the Battle of Midway, or the D-Day landings than it is to re-stage Pickett's Charge. Getting your hands on a Civil War period rifle isn't easy, but I defy you to get your hands on a Higgins Boat and a couple of aircraft carriers, and then get yourself half way around the world to where the battles were fought. The Civil War was fought right in the continental United States, using technology that can be more easily reproduced or refurbished and obtained. What's more it was a war between American, and the bromide that it was a matter of brother against brother is true. It changed forever how the U.S. views itself. As was pointed out in Ken Burns' land mark documentary, prior to the war people would say, "the United States are," and after we say "the United States is." In other words, it settled the question as to where a citizen's primary loyalty should be directed - to their state or to the Federal Government (or, so it seems). The fact that this was a family war, fought in localities within driving distance to most people in the eastern part of the country; that we can walk the fields where so many lost their lives, and relive, even if in a shadowy way, the events of that time, only increases the sense of intimacy and urgency that devotees feel toward the conflict. 

In spite of the war ending in 1865, the argument continues, though, as to why the war was fought. As was the case with every good school boy growing up the Northeast in the 1970's, I was taught that it was a war to free the slaves. We were taught not to despise Robert E. Lee, in particular, and while I can't say that the Confederacy was portrayed as evil, they were clearly on the wrong side, defending the evil, oppressive institution of slavery. It was also the time when the TV mini-series Roots appeared on ABC, depicting the horrors of slavery, from capture in Africa, through the Middle Passage and onto the the plantations. It was required viewing for students of all ages. By today's standard it's pretty tame stuff, but in 1977 it was considered shocking. It too pretty much followed the narrative that the war was about freeing slaves.

As I don't need to say, most historians today dispute this interpretation of events. They will say that the North was fighting to preserve the Union, and the South was fighting to protect the sovereign rights of the individual states against federal incursion. Lincoln, far from being a die hard abolitionist, said that if liberating the slaves would hold the Union together, he's do it, but if keeping slavery legal accomplished the same ends, he's do that. And if a solution came around that set some slaves free and kept others in bondage, he's go for that, too. On the Confederate side, most people didn't own slaves, and didn't necessarily see it as an issue, apart from the notion that they were Virginians, Alabamans or Georgians first, and the central government needed to stop meddling in the internal affairs of the states. As the most famous, and articulate, amateur historian of the war, the late Shelby Foote, put it, the attitude of the average Confederate soldier toward his Unionist counterpart was, "I'm fighting, because you're down here." 

I have always had a problem with the "slavery had nothing to do with the Civil War" argument that I sometimes hear (and yes, some people, some otherwise pretty smart people, do speak that way). It's not because it contradicts the narrative of my youth, but that it flies in the face certain realities. Some of the southern states had tried to secede during the time of Andrew Jackson over protective tariffs that hurt their cotton trade with Europe. That movement never really got anywhere. In giving it's reasons for secession in December of 1860, South Carolina's declaration did indeed discuss state's rights, but always in the light of the slave issue. The problem, rooted in slavery's inherent contradiction with the Declaration of Independents' claim the all men are created equal, imbued with certain inalienable rights, particularly life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, had been kicked down the road since the nation's founding. There had been legislative compromises, Supreme Court decisions and even de facto civil wars in the territories leading up to the conflict - all revolving around slavery. Abolitionist John Brown's failed 1859 raid on Harper's Ferry, to steal weapons meant to arm slaves for a rebellion, polarized the country and set the South on edge, convincing many that civil war was inevitable. Yes, the Confederacy appealed to the principle of states rights in making their case for secession, but they weren't citing some vague notions about federal tariffs or over regulation to justify their course of action. It was that their rights to "private property," in the form of human beings held in bondage, was being endangered by the federal government. To say that slavery had nothing to do with the Civil War is sort of like saying a person's cancer had nothing to do with his demise because the death certificate says that he died of septic shock. Well, he wouldn't have gone into shock if he hadn't had cancer, and I doubt the southern states would have been so motivated to secession if slavery, and the immediate economic implications of its abolition, hadn't been in play. 

What I'm saying is that this is a complicated issue, and as the aforementioned Shelby Foote also said, it's just as foolish to say that slavery had everything to do with the Civil War as it is to say it had nothing to do with it. The world isn't that simple. 

Here we are, a century and a half later, still fighting over the legacy of the war, what it's symbols mean, and even the nature of what the Union is, and if secession is possible. At the same time progressives are now calling for the removal and destruction of Confederate monuments, and the permanent banishing of the Confederate Battle Flag, others, particularly in California, are calling for secession in light of the election of President Trump. Ironically, these activists are at once condemning the Confederacy while at the same time some in their ranks are seeking to follow the Old South's goals of separation from the federal government. These are, as I've already stated, complicated questions. I agree with those who think that we are in the process of foolishly erasing our history, and we shouldn't be so quick to want to tear down statues and deface monuments. But just as we have to make an honest assessment as to what the causes of the Civil War were, we also have to understand what the symbols of that war meant at the time, and how they may have been later appropriated in such a way as to render them unusable. We are still fighting the American Civil War because, just as the problem of slavery was kicked down the road prior to the war, the process of reconciliation, integration and reparation after the war was botched. On these questions I will opine the next time out

St. John Bosco Parish Bulletin Letter for August 13, 2017

There are many joys and blessings I experience as a priest. From baptizing babies to officiating at weddings the Lord has allowed me to share in special moments of grace in the lives of the families  we serve. In the Sacrament of Reconciliation I help reunite a wounded soul with Christ.  Even funerals, as sad as they are, allow me to comfort and reassure people who are passing through a dark time, to let them know that the grave is not the end, that Jesus holds out for us the promise of eternal life. 

But there is one service I and the other Salesians here perform that I find hard to take comfort in, or find joy. It is when we have to offer the funeral rites for a young person killed on the streets of our community. To have to stand by the grave of a 20 or 21 year old, and see the tears of his or her mother, and hear her screams cuts me through my heart. Sometimes the victims are gang members. Sometimes they are friends who get caught in the middle of a dispute. Sometimes, like a young man who I buried out of St. Philomena’s last year, was just walking home from work, targeted for no reason in particular. Being off the street doesn't always insure our safety.  We have all read about children and others who are shot by stray bullets while sitting at home. While we live in one of the safer neighborhoods of Chicago we are not immune from this scourge. I find no comfort in the idea that we do fewer of these types of funerals than other parishes. The bitterness of the tears and the sting of a mother’s cries doesn't allow me that consolation.

I write this sobering message this week, because as we begin our new catechetical year I would like us to reflect a bit as a community. How are we already helping to form our young people to value life? How are we already instilling in them, both at home and in our parish, the values of respect for others and the need to resolve conflicts peacefully? How are showing them that the life of the gangs leads to death, and that there is another way to live? We need to reflect on how we are doing these things now, and how can we do them better in the future.

Cardinal Cupich has recently begun an anti-violence campaign for the archdiocese. Much like we have made great strides in organizing Pro-Life and Pastoral Migratoria initiatives in the parish, we need to join with the Cardinal in his efforts to offer a faith filled response to the problem of street violence we face.  I will be speaking with members of the community about forming a new ant-violence group in the parish. We should not think that this is a South Side problem. I know first hand that it isn't. But united in Christ, I have confidence that we can make a difference, and maybe we can keep one more mother from mourning her child. 

Two Cinematic Visions of War: Dunkirk / Wonder Woman

British soldiers at Dunkirk - Hoping for the best, expecting the worst.

Wonder Woman and her band of brothers 

I recently saw the new movie Dunkirk, and earlier in the summer I caught Wonder Woman. Both movies got me thinking about war movies in general, and couple in particular from twenty years ago. 

Two war movies released in 1998 forever changed the genre in their depictions of the violence, chaos and moral ambiguities of combat. Both set during World War II, Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan and, to a lesser extent, Terrence Malick's Thin Red Line offered sober meditations on the impact of battle on the minds, souls and bodies of the men who were sent to fight. Private Ryan is graphic in its depiction of severed limbs and disemboweled soldiers (I heard stories at the time of D-Day veterans walking out of the theater during the first 20 minutes because the depiction of the Omaha Beach landings hit too close to home), while Thin Red Line focused on the spiritual cost of war, and the corroding loss of both personal and cosmic innocence it brings. Much like Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ permanently effected how we judge filmed lives of Jesus, these two movies are the contemporary gold standard of war films. 

Both films pull off a difficult trick: they honor the men who fought, while showing war as an ugly, senseless experience, stripping battle of the glorious romance with which Hollywood often can't help but paint combat. Thin Red Line, based on a James Jones novel, is more openly contemptuous of military leaders and shows how war turns otherwise average, decent men into amoral killers capable of pulling the gold fillings out of an injured belligerent's mouth while he's still alive. Private Ryan only hints at these things, choosing to use the impact of bullets and shells on flesh and bone to drive home war's dehumanizing effect. 

At this point you may be asking, "What does all this have to do with Dunkirk and, especially, Wonder Woman?" 

Even without taking into account the cultural impact of the earlier film, It was hard for me to watch Dunkirk and not make comparison's to Private Ryan: both films deal with soldiers trapped on a beach during World War II (though Spielberg's film does eventually break free of the coastline). Both stories are told mainly from the stand point of the "grunt" soldiers who actually shed blood. Both filter historical events through the eyes of fictional characters meant to represent the experiences of the millions who served. Both were filmed in muted, under-saturated color tones which adds to the bleakness of their respective situations - and in Private Ryan's case blunts the excessive gore a bit. 

But while Dunkirk easily lends itself to surface comparisons with Private Ryan, a closer look also reveals similarities to Thin Red Line. Though Dunkirk runs at a compact 106 minutes compared to Malick's film that sprawls itself over more than 2 and a half hours, it's sparse dialogue and extended silences, much like the earlier movie, lends itself to a more meditative viewing. We see heroism, for sure, but we also see men under pressure, turning on each other as well as their allies. We see desperate men willing to pull any trick they can to get on a boat home. Though the futility of war and the incompetence of the men who run the high command isn't on full display as it is in Thin Red Line, there is frustration felt because of the catch-22 the leaders are trapped in. They don't commit the full force of the navy or air force to the evacuation because they need to prepare for the defense of the home island, yet no significant defense can be mounted without the 400,000 soldiers trapped on the beaches of northers France. 

Director Christopher Nolan cuts a thin line of his own in how he tells his story. While his film lacks the ultra violence of Spielberg's, it is presented in a realistic style, unlike Malick who used extended static shots to capture the natural beauty of his South Pacific setting, creating an allegory of the Western war machine despoiling the original innocence of the native peoples. That being said, Nolan does use cinematic tricks like playing with the timeline, following three different sets of characters, one group over the course of a week, the other covering a day, and lastly over an hour. We cut back and forth, and events over lap and finally converge, and what could have been confusing in the hands of a lesser film maker is executed perfectly by Nolan. He also utilizes sound quite effectively, differentiating between the noises made by British and "enemy" aircraft to communicate both reassurance or dread as is needed. He also mixes mechanical sounds with music to heighten the sense of menace. He's not presenting an allegory, nor does the film deal in symbols, but Nolan's sparse script makes him utilize other methods of communicating the desperation and horror of the situation the British soldiers find themselves in. 

I've always been fairly critical of Christopher Nolan's work because I think his ideas aren't nearly as profound as his supporters would have us believe. That the man knows what he's doing with a camera and in the editing room is unquestioned. That he is a master of special effects is also true. I just don't think that films like Inception or Interstellar are as deep as some claim, even if they are undeniably well made, and at times truly thrilling. As for a message, I'm not sure exactly what Nolan is saying here (more on that in due time). All I can say right now is that he made an historical drama, set very much in the real world, when he works mainly in science fiction and super hero fantasy, and pulls it off convincingly. Dunkirk clearly shows the depth of his talent. 

I will admit that I wasn't thinking of the two 1998 films detailed above while watching Wonder Woman, but after seeing and reflecting on Dunkirk, my mind began thinking of this other film as well, and comparisons to both Private Ryan and Thin Red Line came to me. 

Wonder Woman is correctly categorized as a comic book movie, but beneath that beats heart a war drama. The film makers transplant the story from the World War II of it's comic book origins to the First World War, for reasons that are not completely clear. It could be that the Second World War has the stench of genocide hanging over it. No matter how hard revisionists try to indite the allied nations of war crimes for the fire bombings of Dresden and Tokyo, not to mention the atomic bombs dropped on Japan, Nazi Germany and the Empire of Japan were the clear aggressors in a war of empire building. The Nazi's guilty of horrors beyond imagining. The plot of Wonder Woman depends of the idea that there really aren't "good guys" or "bad guys," just fallen humanity trapped in a cycle of violence that needs to be broken. It's possible to make this argument with World War I, a conflict whose causes are as mysterious as the origin of Melchizedek of old. We think of the Germans as the enemy because they were our enemy, and they lost. But the Germany of the Kaiser wasn't the Third Reich of Hitler, and trying to make his regime look misguided but well intentioned would be rightly mocked.


In Wonder Woman, much like in Thin Red Line, we have a central character who sees the world with wide eyed wonder. In the older film it's the army private played by Jim Caviezel who observes the innocence of the native South Sea Islanders and the unspoiled nature of their homeland, and through it perceives that there is a deeper reality at work: a spiritual reality that is enduring, if fragile. In Wonder Woman, Diana has spent her life isolated on a mythic island and knows of human nature from books. Her experience of war and violence is the controlled environment of the training ground. When she leaves her native paradise she is at once captivated by what she sees and repulsed by the pollution and squalor, the byproducts of human progress. As she moves closer to the real fighting she sees the consequences of war for the first time: the maimed and the dead, the refugees displaced from their homes. Once she actually engages in fighting she sees first hand the random, uncontrollable brutality of war.

Wonder Woman may be a comic book fantasy, but in some ways it makes deeper observations than Dunkirk. Diana is forced to grow, to shed her idealistic, black and white world view. At the same time she doesn't give in to cynicism. She sees humanity's flaws, yet recognizes its divine potentiality. She is faced by a personified evil in the form of the god Ares, but comes to understand that, much like Satan, he only sets the scene, manipulates the situation, whispers in our ears, but in the end it is men and women who make their free choice for good or bad. And taking him out of the equation, while helpful, doesn't always insure that we will make the right decision. 

Dunkirk, like Private Ryan, is more concerned with the men on the ground doing the fighting and the dying than it is with the big picture of the war or deep philosophical questions (though, in fairness, Spielberg does pepper his film with moral dilemmas). It is a salute to the soldiers, and even more so to the everyday private citizens who came to their rescue at great risk to their own lives. As I mentioned before, it's not an idealized picture: these men are human and at times crack under pressure. In the end Dunkirk shows how a nation united can overcome great adversity. Though muted, it is a great patriotic film that almost makes me sad not to be British.

In spite of a very enthusiastic recommendation, like just about all of the Christopher Nolan films I've seen, it left me feeling like something was missing. As I was watching the film I couldn't help but thinking that if an audience member knows nothing about the Dunkirk evacuation, they would be very confused. We are dropped onto the beach at the beginning with very little preparation and almost no exposition. The Nazi forces are only referred to as "the enemy," and that they are Germans is only mentioned during a xenophobic tirade by one of the British soldiers. They are only seen at the end, and then in out of focus shadows. Hints are made about fighting for the survival of the civilized world, but otherwise the stakes build down to the survival of the men pined down on the beach. The characters are never really developed, so I cared because I knew what was going on, not because of any emotional investment in the individual soldiers.

My cynical side tells me that they want to be able to sell this movie in Germany, so going too heavy into some pro British jingoistic schmalz would be bad for the Teutonic box-office. More likely we have a case of political correctness, that doesn't believe in drawing moral distinctions between combatants: we're both good, and are both also guilty of atrocities big or small, so we shouldn't demonize the enemy. I think this approach can be validly taken in many situations, like in the case of Wonder Woman. World War I was a failure of both sides. While the Allies in WWII were guilty of atrocities (we shouldn't fool ourselves), to not recognize that the differences between the Allies and the Axis were not just a matter of degrees but essence is moral blindness. It's true that not every German soldier was a genocidal maniac, but, knowingly or not, he was fighting to expand the interest of an imperialistic genocidal maniac. If you can't demonize a demon, the culture is really lost.

I don't want to leave you all with the idea that I didn't like Dunkirk or thought that Wonder Woman is a better film. These are two different movies, with two different target audiences (lets just say that I was one of the youngest audience members for Dunkirk, and one of the oldest ones for Wonder Woman). While Dunkirk is the better technical and aesthetic exercise, in someways Wonder Woman asks the deeper questions. Both, in their own ways, follows in the tradition of Saving Private Ryan and Thin Red Line, in presenting the horrors and ambiguities of war while honoring the men and women who served.