The Last Jedi's Terminal Subverting of Expectations (SPOILERS)

The Theme to The Last Jedi should have been "We Don't Need No Education"

I had just about the most frightening moment that a writer can have only a few minutes ago. You see, I've been laboring on and off over this Star Wars post for a couple of weeks now, and I noticed that Bishop Barron just put up a video commentary on The Last Jedi today. Why the fright? Because no one wants to be the second person to publish a clever observation about a particular topic. In the case of Bishop Barron, the chance that I'm actually going to out clever him, or simultaneously stumble upon a common insight is pretty much slim to none. Keeping in mind the old saying about the blind squirrel finding a nut, the thought that our theses' might overlap just enough for me to worry that I'd wasted weeks of work. Even if the ideas come independently of each other, it still looks like the fellow who came in second is copying. It's like two women wearing the same dress to a wedding, only worse, because even that little embarrassment can be written off as an awkward coincidence. In this particular case, I'd probably come off as an unoriginal poser. After seeing his commentary I can see that we cover some of the same background set up (which just about any Star Wars fan knows anyway), but the Bishop expands on an earlier piece he wrote critical of the franchise's turn toward postmodern gender politics. I am going to comment here on Star Wars' turn to the Dark Side of postmodernism, but in a more general way. So, no need to scrap the project or do major rewrites, which is a big relief. 

In preparation for seeing Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi, I saw The Force Awakens again, then looked back at the review and analysis I wrote back when it came out two years ago. It ends up that I didn't like it as much as I thought I had, with the analysis not going past the level of basic logistics and trivial details. In seeing Awakens again, the acting seems better to me and the overall experience more satisfying than how it hit me the first time around. I still don't have anything deep to say about it: it's a fun, rousing, dumb popcorn movie that made me think nostalgically of my childhood. Who needs more? 

OK, Star Wars fanboys and girls want more. As for me, I've always lived on the fringe of both Star Wars and Star Trek geekdom, never actually counting myself an adherent of either faith. Both were parts of my childhood I remember fondly, and I know more than most nonbelievers about both universes, but not much more. The only thing I treat like religion is religion, so nitpicking about whether Greedo or Han shot first or picking sides between Picard or Kirk never interested to me, let alone trying to learn Klingon. I do have to say that this latest Star Wars film did get me thinking about what went wrong with it, and how its subverting the expectations of the fan base (a theme I heard repeated on a few sites) may alienate both the fundamentalist hard core and casual adherent alike.

Over the first three films made between 1977 and 1983, which technically make up the middle portion of what will be a nine movie story arc (with countless new trilogies and stand alone films planned for the future), the ground rules for the Star Wars myth was set. George Lucas drew on the high minded theories of academic  Joseph Campbell, mixed with the cliff hanger thrills of the old Buck Rogers movie serials of his youth, wrapped up in a World War II in space ethos to create modern mythology. At the time it was something fresh, which instantly captured the imaginations of movie audiences young and old, in desperate need of some good old fashioned entertainment.

Star Wars (later retitled Episode IV: A New Hope) came out in the heart of the New Hollywood era. With the twin deaths of the old production code and the studio system a decade before, control over the film making process increasingly shifted from studio executives into the hands of the directors (who often wrote, or at least collaborated on their own scripts, as opposed to being assigned projects by the studio). With this new found freedom, and in light of the Vietnam War and Watergate scandal, films became darker in tone. The distinctions between heroes and villains weren't always clearly drawn. It wasn't unusual for the the good guy to loose and, crime often payed - a big no-no under the old rules. In the midst of this moral relativism came Star Wars. It's true that the bad guys wore white - which I remember confusing some people in 1977, but there wasn't any mistaking that the Storm Troopers were evil. While Darth Vader becomes increasingly conflicted over the course of the movies, as does Luke, to a lesser degree, there is no moral relativism or irony at work here. Darth Vader isn't misunderstood and Luke isn't a closet baddie. The battle is over their "souls" and the destiny of the universe. This very clear battle between good and evil was refreshing to audiences in the age of the cynical, relativistic antihero. 

There was also a spiritual foundation at work, albeit a bit hoaky. The Force is a supernatural energy that binds reality together, and certain people are more strongly connected to it than others. There are prophecies and destinies, and life has a purpose. Luke is on the hero's journey of self discovery and fulfillment. He is strong in the Force, but still needs to perfect his skills under the tutelage of an experienced mentor. It wasn't meant to be realistic, even apart from the science fantasy setting: we're dealing in archetypes and symbols (this is where Campbell comes in) as old as human civilization. While we shouldn't confuse the Star Wars franchise with anything other than mass market commercial entertainment, because it trades in these universal values it connected, and continues to connect with audiences, who, in some cases, respond with an almost religious fervor (something I would need another lengthy post to explore). 

That some express a pseudo-religious response to Star Wars isn't completely surprising. The sacred texts of many religions around the world are made up of stories handed down through the ages. Jesus understood the power of narrative and of universal types. This is why he spoke in parables. Like doctrinal discourse it gives generalities that can later be applied to concrete situations, but in a way that people more easily remember. There was no Good Samaritan, as far as we know, neither was there a Prodigal Son. But like mythology of old they hit upon universal human experience and, in the case of our Lord’s parables, show how divine grace can effect it. Theology can be dry and detached, and history usually fails to offer us clear lessons. But story is a powerful conductor of truth when used correctly. There will always be a certain degree of subjectivity at work. We can still argue over what the universals mean. But in good fiction the truth hovers above the details that serve like mnemonic devises to aid our remembering.  


In the grand scheme Star Wars worked because it followed a method with a proven track record of success - for something like millennia: take universal ideals and express them through a simple, yet lively story that people will remember. Dark, brooding and morally conflicted stories often make great films, but that's not why people go to a Star Wars movie. There's nothing wrong with opening things up story wise, putting characters into new situations, exploring new worlds, if you will, a la Star Trek. But the basics of the struggle between good and evil and the hero's journey to self discovery still needs to be there, or it just isn't Star Wars anymore. Reports that the latest installment faded faster at the box office than it's precesessor are a bit exaggerated, but what should be more worrying to the corporate geniuses at Disney is the disparity of opinion between the professional critics and the general audience. The critics may love The Last Jedi, but many fans sense that there's been a disturbance in the Force: Episode VIII diverted too radically from the original spirit of the series, and they're not happy about it. 

Fiddling with the Star Wars Mythology isn't new, but pinning down exactly when it began to be deconstructed is open to debate. Some say that Lucas began the process himself in the Prequels, especially when he reduced the Force to microscopic organisms living in people's blood. The more midi-chlorians, as they were called, in the blood system the more "Force" the person had. It's a concept that was quickly forgotten after Episode One, but the hard core fans still fume at the idea. Since I'm not that familiar with the Prequels, I'll stick to commenting on the original trilogy and the films made since 2015. So, while we can nitpick things, I point to 2016's stand alone movie Rogue One as the place where the postmodern tomfoolery started in earnest. 

Rogue One tells the story of how the Death Star plans were captured, ending just as the events of A New Hope begin. In many ways it was an attempt at making a gritty war movie (think an intergalactic version of The Dirty Dozen). In ramping up the World War II in space aspect of the myth, it tended to down play the ideas of a hero's journey and personal destiny, with the Force being talked about, but not playing a significant part in the lives of a majority of the characters. It also injected moral ambiguity into the story for the first time. The Empire is evil still, but the Rebel Alliance isn't squeaky clean either. The protagonist is disenchanted with the rebellion, her childhood mentor is now an off the reservation Colonel Kurtz style quazi-psychopath, another "hero" is young but still grizzled veteran of the cause who kills allies when it's convenient to save his own skin. All these elements combine to produce a generally grim experience. The most memorable, and lovable, character is a blind martial arts expert who has undying faith in the power of the Force. I'm not the only person to mention that I'd have preferred to see a movie about that guy instead of the rest of these sad, cynical rejects from what ended up being a cosmic Catch-22.

The sole noble idea that Rogue One held on to was the theme of self sacrifice for a bigger cause. The trouble is it went a bit overboard in that area, with all the central characters dying at the end, which may have prompted a backlash of sorts in The Last Jedi. More on that a bit later.

As for the “in universe” pictures, in The Force Awakens (2015) we were reintroduced to the original spirit of the franchise. Themes that took three movies to establish are condensed, but very clearly Rey is the youth of uncertain origin, leaving home on an adventure seeking to understand her herself through discovering her past (think Luke Skywalker's hero's journey). Rylo Ren is the conflicted villain, who may or may not be related to Rey, much like Darth Vader and his relationship with Luke. Snoke, in the Palpatine role, is the embodiment of pure evil who seeks to keep Ren under his power while either turning or else destroying Rey. Han Solo assumes the role of Rey's mentor, like Ben Kenobi (rather than teaching her the ways of the Force, he offers to hone her skills as the next captain of the Millennium Falcon). Episode VII has an open-ended cliffhanger climax, but leaves the overall Star Wars ethos in place. 

As I've already written about, Rogue One attempted to inject some "realism" into all the mythology, but it could be forgiven. It's a diversion from the main story, much like Tom Stoppard following the exploits of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern riffs on Hamlet without necessarily effecting how we interpret that play. But Episode VIII isn't a detour into something quirky. It's a part of the "official cannon," which systematically takes the Star Wars Myth and blows it up. In demythologizing Star Wars the film makers mirror the attitudes of the postmodern West, who's dictum is that nothing really matters, nothing is real, and there's nothing to get hung about.  

Unlike Yoda, who assumes Luke's training after Ben Kenobi's death, Skywalker, in this case grabbing the mentor baton from the martyred Had Solo, wants nothing to do with training a new Jedi. He literally takes the baton, in the form of his own lightsaber breathlessly delivered by Rey, and tosses it away like an empty Coke can. He is riddled with self doubt, and no longer believes in the positive power of the Force. He is determined to abdicate his responsibility to accompany Rey on her journey. He is a far cry from Ben Kenobi who cherished his heritage and was ever to pass on his wisdom to a future generation. Instead past failures have overshadowed Luke's earlier triumphs, and he may or may not be just as evil as Kylo Ren. He chooses seclusion on his distant island planet, allowing the events of the universe to go on without him, content to die the last Jedi. 

Kylo Ren isn't so much conflicted about whether to go to the Dark or the Light Side of the Force as much as figuring out how he will gain control of the universe. For a brief time it looked like the franchise was going to go into a truly interesting direction when Kylo and Rey team up against Snoke. The moment is thrilling, but brief, and we're right back to Kylo as the bad guy, but without an ounce of conflict within him. Rather than some grand statement, Kylo cynically uses Rey (an his Force power) to off Snoke in a palace intrigue power play move. 

Rey begins Episode VII in the Luke role, as I've said. She is a blank slate, but hints are given as to her origin. Touching Luke's light saber unlocks all sorts of suppressed memories along with connecting her with the mythology's collective unconscious. Her mission transforms from simply getting the map piece to the Resistance to going on a journey of self discovery. In Episode VIII we find out her background is meaningless: her parents were nobody in particular and she has these great powers just because - no journey of discovery necessary, no trial by ordeal needed. Anybody can be powerful in the Force, it's nothing special, really. Even Yoda rejects the whole Jedi tradition, burning down the tree temple, with the sacred Jedi texts in it (though there is a chance Rey stole them before she left the island planet). 

As for self sacrifice, we see one character die saving the fleet, but when Finn tires a similar move he's scolded for it. Toward the end of the movie what's left of the Resistance is trapped in a cave with a thick steel door, so the First Order brings on this huge canon type battering ram to blow it open (it utilizes Death Star Technology ™, of course). When it becomes clear that their not going to be able to blow up the weapon in time Finn decided to ride his speeder, Randy Quade in Independence Day style, right down the barrel of it. He's deflected by Rose Tico, and they both crash, keeping the canon in tact and their comrades in danger. In one of the most inane and insipid lines in movie history Rose justifies her action by telling Finn, "We're going to win this war not by fighting what we hate, but saving what we love!" She then kisses him tenderly before falling away unconscious. We've come a long way from Rick Blain proclaiming that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, to let ‘em fry, as along as I've got my man!

The most egregious demythologizing has to do with the aforementioned burning down of the Jedi Temple. It is a clear break with the past: a statement that tradition is meaningless, there is only the now, so it’s for us to create our own meaning. 

The moviemakers may think that they are updating Star Wars to fit a contemporary mentality, but they are missing the point. As I wrote, A New Hope hit the screens during the era of The Godfather and Apocalypse Now, movies that made the mafia an allegory for corporate and political America, and portrayed the U.S. military leadership as either insane or coldly murderous. We generally think of Saturday Night Fever as a feel good movie of sorts, but it asks deep questions as to the meaning of life and ends with an apparent suicide. The Star Wars films were a balm from the moral relativism. 

The films of today are far less serious than back in the ‘70’s, they actually ask fewer real questions, demand fewer sacrifices of their characters. But the culture is still saturated with moral relativism. I heard a critic claim that characters don’t die at the end of movies anymore because the actors themselves feel its bad for their image. Either that or it cuts off the possibility of making a sequel. These reasons may be true, but I think it’s also because filmmakers know that the current popular metaphysics doesn’t allow for life after death. All we have is this life, and the pleasures of this world. So there is no heaven or hell, there is no veil to pass through. All we have is now and the meaning we give life. If there is a heaven everyone goes there, and it’s not as good as life on earth (you have no idea how much I hated City of Angels). If there’s a hell, only the likes of Hitler and bankers go there. Maybe. 

Deep down people don’t really believe that life has no meaning, or at least they’re not satisfied by the thought (the heaven and hell question is another, more complicated story I won’t tackle right now). They know that humans on earth are flawed creatures, full of great potential but struggling to do the right thing. They want to be inspired to rise above. They want to believe that there is a hero inside them. They want to believe that life has a purpose. Star Wars 1977 zigged when the popular culture of the ‘70’s was zagging. It caught people by surprise, and they got caught up in the good feeling. 

The Last Jedi faded faster than expected from movie screens in the States (and actually tanked in China) I believe because it has strayed from formula that got it here. It still has Ex-Wings and TIE Fighters and all the familiar tech, but Star Wars is more than those things. I’m not sure that saying there’s no need for training, anyone can be a Jedi, it’s not all that special is the message you want to go for. I’m not sure that claiming that the Resistance buys their weapons from the same dealers as the First Order, so they’re only a little less corrupt than their enemy, is going to ignite the child like wonder in the audience. I’m not sure that saying the Jedi tradition is past its prime, and really never meant that much to begin with, is going to connect with long time fans craving for some modern mythology, especially since we get so much demythologizing already. 


I close by echoing what I heard from the guys over at Red Letter Media. This movie left me unenthusiastic about the next film. I’ll still probably go see it, along with the Han Solo stand alone coming up in December. But I won’t be looking forward to either one like I did for The Force Awakens and, especially, The Last Jedi. Not because I’m a man now, who demands more mature entertainment, but because the child inside me was let down; a child who desperately wants to believe in heroes, and heroines, the pursuit of good and the defeat of evil, in a culture saturated with the inverse. With all the talk of box office disappointment, The Last Jedi still banked a billion and counting. I won’t be surprised though, if this represents the peak, with a steady decline in the forecast. What made Star Was special has been put aside. Hopefully it was only misplaces and not lost forever.

Sir, Give Me this Water: Reflection on the Woman at the Well, and the Strenna for 2018

Every January the Rector Major publishes the annual Strenna. The Strenna is a statement meant to give focus to the Salesian Family's pastoral initiatives for the year. The tradition began with Don Bosco, who used to offer a special message to the Salesian Sisters (Daughters of Mary Help of Christians) for the New Year. Soon after the message was directed to the entire Salesian Family. 2017's was "We Are Family! Every home, a school of Life and Love," highlighting the importance of family ministry, in light of Pope Francis' Apostolic Exhortation Amoris Laetitia. 2018's is “'Lord, give me this water' (John 4:15) let us cultivate the art of listening and of accompaniment." This year's is meant to help us prepare for the 15th Ordinary Synod of Bishops in Rome this October, which will deal with young people and vocational discernment. 

At the parish we're having our Volunteer's Retreat, and we've taken the Strenna as our theme. Friday night I gave a reflection on the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well from John's Gospel. This passage is the point of departure for the Rector Major's, Ángel Fernández Artime's, commentary. The English text is followed by the Spanish translation that was delivered.

Sir, give me this water.

The Samaritan woman had drank from many wells in her life. We do not know her story in detail, but we can imagine. Our Lord confronts her with her past. She has been married five times and the man she is with now isn't her husband. She isn't an ignorant woman. She knows the Samaritan faith of her ancestors, as well as understanding the Jewish religion of Jesus. We wonder what went wrong. While she, as all of us, has to take responsibility for her own actions, we still wonder, how was she lied to in her life? How was she used? How was she abused? How was she seduced away from the religious practice of her youth? How did a life that began with such promise come to this crossroad? 

The Samaritan woman knew that she was thirsty, and that the water from all the other wells she drank from in the past had still left her dry. Jesus offers her the waters of everlasting life, and to prove to her that he can supply such water, he prophetically tells her something about herself that Jesus couldn't possibly have known. He reveals the source of her shame, the reason that she suffers the heat of the day instead of coming to the well with the rest of the women of the village at dawn. Rather than being put off or insulted, she draws closer, sensing that this Jewish stranger understood her, and may indeed be the one to lead her to redemption. 

The young people of today have much in common with the Samaritan woman, but with some key differences that I'll mention later. They are being seduced away from the faith by promises of instant gratification rooted in false happiness. They are being lied to by a consumeristic culture that says that happiness lies in the next smart phone or the flashiest car. They are being deceived by a culture that tells them that the only thing that matters is what they want, and the dreams they have for themselves. They are told that there is no God, or at the very least if there is one he is far way, uncaring and distant.

The main difference between then and now is that the Samaritan woman was on the margins of the society. She went to the well in the afternoon because she would then avoid the gossiping of the other village women, who knew her story and judged her harshly for it. She wasn't completely lost because she still had a strong religious upbringing that she could latch on to. Jesus was able to use her religious background as an opening to make a connection with her. In some ways today we are dealing with a photo negative image of Jesus' time. Instead of the Samaritan woman's extramarital situation being exceptional, it is increasingly the norm. Divorce, remarriage, cohabitation, what we used to call promiscuity, has become the common experience. The taking for granted that marriage is a life long, exclusive commitment sealed by a sacrament along with the reserving sexual relations for marriage is more and more seen as old-fashioned and unrealistic. Rather than the Church and the secular society walking together, promoting the same values, as was the case in the past, the Church now finds herself at odds with the mainstream culture. Young people in general, but Catholic youth in particular are not as well catechized as in the past. The don't have the religious heritage that was passed on by their family to go back to when they are lost, as the Samaritan woman did. 

This is all not without hope. We must always remember first and foremost that the work of evangelization is first and foremost the work of the Holy Spirit. We, as catechists and ministers of the Church, are open to ongoing formation so we can be of service to the Spirit's bidding. We know that Jesus has already won the victory by his death on the cross. It is for us to make the urgent invitation to others to enter into this victory by accepting the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

But as I said, the invitation is urgent. Jesus has won the war, but the battle still goes on for the salvation of individual souls. It is for this battle that we are formed, and go forth in mission. 

We are formed by the Master who teaches by his example how we are to go about the mission. If we look at this encounter between Jesus and the unnamed woman at the well, we can pick up a few hints.

First of all, Jesus isn't afraid to make the first approach. Jesus is radical in this, because in his historical times men and women did not speak in public unless they were close family members, and Jews and Samaritans were sworn enemies. Jesus breaks through this social convention to begin a dialogue with the woman.

Secondly, Jesus doesn't begin by telling the woman her sins or reminding her that she is on the wrong path. He makes a simple, human request for water. She is understandably resistant. "Who is this man?", she may have asked herself. "Is he just another man asking for water but really looking for something else?" "Does he know my reputation and thinks that's a license to bother me?" Jesus gently, but persistently, wears down her resistance until she understands that He is not just another man looking to use her. He appeals to the longing with in her for true freedom.

It is only after a degree of trust is established that Jesus goes on to tell her that he knows the dark secret of her life, offering an alternative way to go. It isn't an escape from her situation, as much as a way to recapture the joy of her you, as well as a way forward that will bring with it responsibility and fulfillment.   

I will get into the more practical aspects of the Rector Major's Strenna for 2018 on Sunday afternoon. But for now, what we are being called to is to rethink how we engage in the mission of evangelization as members of the Salesian family. We are called, as always to pass on the faith to the next generation. We should be confident in the religious and cultural heritage we have received, and feel privileged to pass it on. 

What is new is that we are called to listen as well as talk. Young people today do not necessarily take for granted the truth of the Gospel. They no longer share the vision of marriage rooted in the scriptures. They no longer understand what a vocation is, since all they are being offered are temporary options. 

So what is to be done?

I would say, simply that we need to listen. In listening we try to understand first. Sometimes the greatest mistake we do is offer predetermined solutions to problems we imagine that young people have. In listening we try to get to the heart of what the issue is, and then we can give a thoughtful, informed response. 

Before listening or speaking we need to be living our own vocational commitment. Young people today are less interested in what we say as in seeing the witness that we live. If they see us faithful, they are more likely to be faithful. If they come to the parish and they see divisions, see people who are rivals with each other, or gossip about others, then they will be put off. It won't matter what we say, what we do will be much louder. Unless we live a holy life, then we really have nothing to pass on to our young people but empty words. 

In the end the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman led to her coming back to faith, returning to community life, as a protagonist in the mission of the Jesus. That is the goal of our Salesian mission today: to either keep our young people in the fold, or else help lead them back if they have strayed. It is to help them become active members of the community, concerned with the spreading of the Gospel. We do this by living our own call to holiness faithfully, with joy and purpose. We pray to Jesus, here in his Eucharistic presence, to give us the wisdom and strength we need to be faithful and true to His call.


Señor, dame esta agua.

La mujer samaritana había bebido de muchos pozos en su vida. No conocemos su historia en detalle pero podemos imaginarnos. Nuestro Señor la consuela de su pasado. Ella se había casado cinco veces y el hombre con el que estaba ahora no era su esposo. Ella no es una mujer ignorante. Ella conoce la fe samaritana de sus antepasados así como la religión judía de Jesús. Nos preguntamos qué pasó. Mientras que ella como todos nosotros tenemos que asumir la responsabilidad de nuestras acciones nos preguntamos ¿Cómo la engañaron? ¿Cómo estaba ella? ¿Cómo fue abusada? ¿Cómo se separó de la práctica religiosa en su juventud? ¿Cómo una vida que comenzó con tal promesa llegó a esta encrucijada?

La mujer samaritana sabía que tenía sed y que el agua de todos los otros pozos de los que bebió en el pasado la había dejado con sed. Jesús le ofrece las aguas de la vida eterna y para probarle que él puede suministrarle tal agua proféticamente le dice algo acerca de ella. Él revela el origen de su vergüenza, la razón por la que ella sufre el calor del día en lugar de ir al pozo con el resto de las mujeres del pueblo al amanecer. En lugar de desanimarse o sentirse rechazada se acerca sintiendo que este extranjero judío la comprendía  y  la condujera a la redención.

Los jóvenes de hoy tienen mucho en común con la mujer samaritana pero con algunas diferencias aspectos que mencionaré más adelante. Están siendo seducidos lejos de la fe por promesas de gratificación instantánea enraizadas en la falsa felicidad. Les está engañando una cultura consumista que dice que la felicidad está en el próximo teléfono inteligente o el coche más llamativo. Están siendo engañados por una cultura que les dice que lo único que importa es lo que quieren y los sueños que tienen para sí mismos.  Les dicen que no hay Dios o al menos si hay uno está lejos e indiferente.

La diferencia principal entre antes y ahora es que la mujer samaritana estaba al margen de la sociedad. Ella fue al pozo por la tarde porque evitaría los chismes de las mujeres del pueblo que conocían su historia y la juzgaban duramente. No estaba completamente perdida porque todavía tenía una fuerte educación religiosa a la que podía aferrarse. Jesús pudo usar su trasfondo religioso como una oportunidad para establecer una conexión con ella. De alguna manera hoy estamos lidiando con una imagen negativa del tiempo de Jesús. En lugar de que la situación extramatrimonial de la mujer samaritana sea excepcional es cada vez más normal. El divorcio, las segundas nupcias, la cohabitación, lo que solíamos llamar promiscuidad, se han convertido muy común. Dar por hecho que el matrimonio es un compromiso exclusivo de toda la vida sellada por un sacramento junto con las relaciones sexuales que se reservan para el matrimonio se ve cada vez más como pasado de moda y poco realista. En lugar de que la Iglesia y la sociedad secular caminen juntas promoviendo los mismos valores como fue el caso en el pasado la Iglesia, ahora se encuentra en desacuerdo con la cultura dominante. Los jóvenes en general, los jóvenes católicos en particular no están tan bien educados como en el pasado.
No tienen la herencia religiosa transmitida por su familia para volver a ella cuando se pierden como lo hizo la mujer samaritana.

 Siempre debemos recordar sobre todo que la obra de evangelización es ante todo, obra del Espíritu Santo. Nosotros como catequistas y ministros de la Iglesia estamos abiertos a la formación permanente para poder servir a las órdenes del Espíritu. Sabemos que Jesús ya ha ganado la victoria con su muerte en la cruz. Nos toca a nosotros hacer una invitación urgente a otros para que entren en esta victoria al aceptar el Evangelio de Jesucristo.

Pero como dije, la invitación es urgente. Jesús ganó la guerra pero la batalla continúa para la salvación de las almas. Es por esta batalla que estamos formados y avanzamos en la misión.

Estamos formados por el Maestro que enseña con su ejemplo cómo debemos llevar a cabo la misión. Si miramos este encuentro entre Jesús y la mujer en el pozo podemos observar algunas claves.

Primero que nada, Jesús no tiene miedo tomar la iniciativa de acercarse. Jesús es radical en esto porque en sus tiempos históricos los hombres y las mujeres no hablaban en público a menos que fueran parientes cercanos y los judíos y los samaritanos eran enemigos. Jesús rompe con esta convención social para comenzar un diálogo con la mujer.

En segundo lugar Jesús no comienza diciéndole a la mujer sus pecados o recordándole que ella está en el camino equivocado. Él hace un simple pedido humano pide agua. Ella es comprensiblemente resistente. "¿Quién es este hombre?", Se habrá preguntado a sí misma. "¿Es solo otro hombre pidiendo agua pero realmente buscando otra cosa?" "¿Conoce mi reputación y piensa que tiene derecho a molestarme?" Jesús gentilmente pero con persistencia espera  que ella comprenda que Él no es solo otro hombre que busca usarla. Él insiste por el anhelo en ella que encuentre la verdadera libertad.

Después de establecer un grado de confianza Jesús continúa diciéndole que él conoce el oscuro secreto de su vida, ofreciendo un camino alternativo a seguir. No es un escape de su situación sino una forma para que ella recupere la alegría y comience el camino que trae consigo la responsabilidad y la realización.

Entraré en los aspectos más prácticos del Strenna del Rector Mayor para 2018 el domingo por la tarde. Pero por ahora, a lo que se nos llama es pensar cómo nos involucramos en la misión de evangelización como miembros de la familia Salesiana. Somos llamados como siempre a transmitir la fe a la próxima generación. Deberíamos tener confianza en el patrimonio religioso y cultural que hemos recibido y sentirnos privilegiados de transmitirlo.

Estamos llamados a escuchar y a hablar. Los jóvenes de hoy no creen en la verdad del Evangelio. No comparten la visión del matrimonio enraizada en las Escrituras. No comprenden qué es una vocación ya que todo lo que se les ofrece son opciones temporales.

¿Así, qué debemos hacer?

Yo diría simplemente que tenemos que escuchar. Al escuchar, primero tratamos de comprender. A veces el mayor error que cometemos es ofrecer soluciones predeterminadas a los problemas que imaginamos que tienen los jóvenes. Al escuchar tratamos de llegar a la raíz del problema y ​​luego podemos dar una respuesta reflexiva e informada.

Antes de escuchar o hablar necesitamos vivir nuestro propio compromiso vocacional. Los jóvenes de hoy están menos interesados ​​en lo que decimos que en ver el testimonio que vivimos. Si nos ven fieles es más probable que sean fieles. Si vienen a la parroquia y ven divisiones, ven a personas que son rivales entre sí o hablan de los demás, se desilusionarán.  No importará lo que digamos lo que hacemos es más importante. A menos que vivamos una vida santa entonces realmente no tenemos nada que transmitir a nuestros jóvenes sino palabras vacías.

Al final del encuentro entre Jesús y la mujer samaritana ella recuperó la fe, regreso a la vida comunitaria como protagonista en la misión de Jesús. Ese es el objetivo de nuestra misión Salesiana hoy: mantener a nuestros jóvenes en el redil o ayudarlos a regresar si se han desviado. Es para ayudarlos a convertirse en miembros activos de la comunidad, preocupados por anunciar el Evangelio. Hagamos esto viviendo nuestro propio llamado a la santidad fielmente con alegría y propósito. Pidamos a Jesús, en su presencia Eucarística para que nos dé la sabiduría y la fuerza que necesitamos para ser fieles a su llamado.

Postmodern Religious Substitutes Part 2: the Occult

Here's the link to Part 1

Conventional wisdom states that as traditional religious practice declines, and more people claim to be atheist or agnostic, society will become more secular, guided by pure scientific reason instead of dogmatic faith. This is the conventional wisdom, anyway, among the New Atheists, and other champions of the secularized culture. Bishop Barron, most decidedly not an atheist or secularist, recently posted a commentary outlining social psychologist Jean Twenge's work on the post-millennial generation,  dubbed iGen. Born since 1995, these young people have grown up with hand held tech, particularly iPhones, and don't seem to be the better for it. What preoccupies Bishop Barron is this latest generation's rejection of religion, and Christianity in particular, because of its perceived incompatibility with science. There are other reasons as well, but here's the video to get the rest of that story. What is of even more concern is that the iGeners have progressed passed the "spiritual but not religious" stance of their predecessors to a rejection of a belief in a spiritual realm, and the necessity of prayer all together. Dr. Twenge has been doing invaluable work in the field of generational studies for some time now, and I don't need to tell you the high esteem in which I hold Bishop Barron, but much like the conventional wisdom of contemporary secularists, I'm not sure that these assumptions are entirely correct either. 

Columbia University social scientist Jonathan Haidt claims that dogmatic ways of thinking are humanity's default position, and we have to go to great efforts to stay objectively analytical, putting aside preconceived notions, when investigating reality. As I talked about last time, political correctness, the child of postmodernism, has it's roots in the Marxist dialectic. This takes for granted, without any recourse to the scientific method, that all reality is based on power struggles between oppressors and oppressed. In fact, if someone were to quote social science experiments that have conclusions contrary to this hypothesis they would be accused of using the tools of the dominant oppressor to keep the oppressed down. The postmodern assumptions, then, are taken on faith, not reason. 

While postmodernism has filled the dogma gap left by traditional religion, and by extension offers a basis for a new moral code, there is another yearning inside of us that the new secular age can't fulfill. We are made for the mystical, and for transcendent communion, not just for systematized belief. There are some Oxford scientists who say that belief in the divine is a universal aspect of our human nature. As traditional religion declines, the alternative isn't a turning to the cold, harsh light of reason. Because the pull toward the transcendent is a part of our very being, people are going to find alternative expressions when the old seem irrelevant.

The alternates to established religion that younger people are turning to increasingly include various forms of witchcraft and astrology. A 2014 article says that over a half of US millennials think astrology, in particular, is a science. How much of this can be accounted for by the fact that many people need to stop and think a second when distinguishing between astrology and astronomy (which is a recognized scientific field), I don't know. Add to all the spell casting and star gazing, there are also reports of pagan revivals on campus. The most pernicious is the rise of satanism, which in true demonic form uses obfuscation to convince people that they really aren't what they say they are. They try to pose as "rationalists" who really don't believe in any spiritual reality, but use the archetypal symbol of the devil to signify their ant-establishment stance. I think there are people who really believe that, but at its core, along with all forms of occult practice is Satan, happy to seduce true believers and useful idiots alike. 

I'm sure there are many reasons why these occult practices are on the rise. But if I were to focus in on two reasons, I'd say that one has to do with the large measure of control over outcomes they promise to adherents, and the other is the lack of a clear moral code that practitioners of the dark arts need to follow. In different ways they all allow us to do as we will, and get what we want without apparent consequences or responsibilities. 

A central tenant of traditional monotheistic religions is the belief in a personal God who calls people into right relationship with Himself and others. We are responsible to God, and in exchange, it's not so much that we have rights in the common sense of the word but rather that, God has made promises to us that He will be faithful to if we persevere. 

In Christianity we continue in the Jewish tradition of covenant: The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is our God, and we are His people. Through a series of covenants God called first a family by way of Abraham, then a nation through Moses and finally all humanity through Jesus. This call to communion and fidelity was sealed each time by a covenant of blood. Christ's covenant wasn't sealed with the blood of an animal, as were the others, but in His own precious Blood shed on the cross. We enter into the covenant through baptism. In this act we receive rights as members of the Church, God's assembly, but we also incur responsibilities. We are called to be holy, living differently than the rest of the "nations," not seeking our own wants and desires first, but seeking to do God's will first and foremost.


Traditional religions also acknowledge, one way or another, that human beings are imperfect and aren't perfectible by their own powers. Or, at the very least, this process isn't easy and in some cases takes several lifetimes to come about. There is almost always some call to self denial as a way of purifying the self, either as a way of eliminating desire which causes unhappiness, or of purification of the soul that leads to union with God. Following Eastern religions was a fad for a while, because they appear to dispense with Western notions of morality (this in part was where all the spiritual but not religious drivel came from). There is a great deal made of the Karma Sutra, for example, as a sex manual for the erotically adventurous in contrast to the supposed repressive Judeo-Christian ethic. What people usually miss is that the “naughty” part of the book represents just one section of a larger work meant as a guide for men seeking a wife. The sexual acrobatics recommended within are meant for a married couple at the beginning of their marriage. Eventually, once they've gotten these things out of their system, if you will, they are to move on to higher, spiritual pursuits. Gandhi was married but he lived as a celebrate the last forty years of his life in line with this Hindu ideal.

Occult practices begin with the premise that human beings are either perfectible by our own powers alone, or else are already perfect, having no need of conversion. The highest good is the exercising of our will. There is generally some notion that we shouldn't violate the rights of others, but at its extreme the doctrine is do as you will, and woe betide the person who gets in your way. There is no personal God that we are responsible to, but spiritual forces we can manipulate to our ends. There are either spells that we can cast, potions we can ingest (or get others to take), secret, gnostic knowledge that will unlock secret doors of consciousness that are only open to the select few, that will get us what we want in this life. There is no need to worship God, because we are as gods, in control of our own universe. 

This is obviously an overly simplistic explanation of what the occult is. But as I wrote, at the root of all of it is Satan. Going down these paths, as I've said in the past, is dangerous for many reasons. It is true that a relative few people will actually experience overt demonic consequences for their dabbling in the occult. But the devil is more than happy to have us spinning our wheels, stuck in the same place, keeping the focus on ourselves rather than looking outward to God and neighbor. He seeks to convince us that happiness in this life is all we need, and can be fulfilled by bodily pleasures, wealth or power. A so called satanist may deny the existence of Satan, and a practitioner of Wicca or some other neo-pagan religion may think they are contacting innocuous spirits they are able to control, but the reality is that they are playing into the hands of very personal forces seeking their destruction.

Both postmodernism and the new occultism are expressions of what happens when an old order is thrown away without first thinking through what is being rejected. Contemporary rationalist thinkers, and today these would be the New Atheists, are just as dumbfounded as believers in traditional faith by the rise of these two phenomenon. They see themselves as inheritors of the Enlightenment, and can't see why so many people are taken in by such irrational, anti-scientific movements. I would say that its because human beings are not cold, rational beings; that pure reason alone isn't enough to sway minds and hearts. We have a rational capacity that arguably separates us from the animals. But we are more than our rational, logical selves. We are spiritual creatures, who seek a reality beyond what logic can explain. The Medieval syntheses that joined faith and reason together wasn't overturned during the Enlightenment because it was wrong, but because it had become formulaic, unable to adjust to changing times. Combine with this the rupture in Christian unity wrought by the Reformation and the Wars of Religion that followed, and it's understandable why many would question religious faith's claims to truth. As I wrote, we are not cold rational creatures, and our emotions do play a roll in what we come to see as the truth. Until that synthesis is restored, with faith and reason seen as two wings on which the human being flies, we will continue to fluctuate between the nihilistic, zero sum philosophy of the postmodern neo-Marxists and the esoteric pablum of the occultists. 

It's been a five hundred year journey, but faith and reason separated from each other has led to cultural decay and moral confusion - and quite possibly the end of Western Civilization as we know it. A new synthesis won't be forged in a day, but my faith tells me it will happen, and my reason tells me that it has to happen for humanity to truly flourish.