On Pilgrimage: A Walk with Dante through Auschwitz

Rather than going chronologically through the World Youth Day pilgrimage, I'm skipping ahead to our third day in Poland, which was more than halfway through the trip itself. Considering that today is the optional memorial of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, better known as Edith Stein, I think the flash forward is appropriate.  I began writing this on the iPad while I was still in the parking lot of Berkinau, so I've kept the original byline. 

July 26 - OSWIECIM, Poland — It's a cliche by now to call World Youth Day the Catholic Woodstock - Pope Emeritus Benedict has long been critical of reducing WYD to some kind of pop festival or spiritual pep rally. Obviously the pharmaceutical and "free love" aspects of that 1969 event are lacking, but the festival atmosphere is palpable. There is singing, dancing in the streets, chanting, face painting, to go along with the prayer and devotional activities. It is a celebration of faith with a youthful enthusiasm. It is unbridled joy at the freedom to worship Jesus without being judged by a wider peer group who may not think that such public displays of holy affection are cool. 

Yesterday in Wadowice, the birthplace of St. John Paul II, the party spirit had already taken hold, even though WYD won't start until the Mass at 5:30 pm local time this evening. Groups were huddled on street corners, milling in the town square, or else forming quasi—conga lines through the streets, singing religious songs and shouting patriotic chants — not just of their own country, but honoring other nations as well. When a group of French saw an American flag pass they'd start chanting "USA! USA!" And Americans would shout, "Viva Mexico!" as that country's tricolor waved down the street. A young man proposed to his girlfriend at the stature of John Paul II, out in front of the basilica that sits right next door to the pope Saint's birthplace. Once they figured out what was going on, a crown of hysterical Spaniards descend upon the newly engaged, chanting and singing. There is a sharing of faith and culture in a way that is unique in my experience. WYD is a festival of love that knows nothing of borders, that fosters unity and understanding.

That is why standing in this place, the death camps of Auschwitz—Birkenau, strikes such a dissonant cord amid the sweet melody of love that has otherwise fills the air, even in WYD's early phases. 

Because of the 2.5 million people who are in the process of arriving in Kraków, and the overwhelming interest in visiting Auschwitz, the visit we were permitted was somewhat truncated. We weren't allowed in the buildings, and getting into places like the starvation bunker where St. Maximilian Kolbe was martyred, which is difficult even on normal days, was completely out of the question this week. 

Because of the limited access, the visceral impact of the walk through Auschwitz was blunted somewhat. In Washington D.C.'s Holocaust Museum there is a cattle car that was used to ship Jews to the death camps. Near by are the suitcases, shoes and other personal effects, such as coats and scarves, that the prisoners were made to leave behind, with the false promise that their belongings would follow them to the camps. To walk through the cattle car, sense it's claustrophobic smallness, especially when you allow your imagination to work - picturing 150 people crammed into a space envisioned for 50 in the SS regulations (yes, they actually had a handbook for genocide), overwhelms the emotions. The smell of human sweat is still perceptible both in the car and as you walk past the shoes and satchels. The air is filled with odor of aging leather mixed with that used shoe smell and mild traces of B.O. - the tell tale sign that human beings once walked the earth in these shoes and wore these coats. Here at Auschwitz the distance we are kept at from the barracks and other buildings negates the immediacy of the experience.

A walk through Auschwitz on this day is deceiving. The buildings are unimposing. They look like they could be abandoned municipal office buildings or public housing. Trees line the roads shading us from the brutal summer sun. The only indication that this was a concentration camp is the electric barbed wire fences that ring the camp, along with signs that tell you - There in that fenced off courtyard is the wall where prisoners were routinely shot - Here was a makeshift gas chamber - Here was the building where women were experimented on - Down there is the starvation bunker where Maximillian Kolbe died in another man's place. Barring those placards, and the knowledge I had beforehand, it would be easy to wonder why this otherwise unremarkable complex of brick buildings is being preserved. 

There is silence as we walk the path set out for us. We are one of dozens of groups visiting the camp this day. The numbers will only go up during the week as WYD pilgrims continue arriving in Kraków. The quiet is pierced by the shrill, unholy screeching of a flock of small birds darting about between trees. When we get to the end, I feel nothing. I don't feel sad, or overcome. The only thing I feel is guilt that I don't seem to feel anything in particular. I hear the birds give one more, accusatory, squawk before getting on the bus.

Auschwitz was build to be a work camp. People were killed here by gas and firing squad, along with torture and poisoning, but on an ad hoc basis. I have to believe that giving the place a façade of normalcy, a quaint beauty almost, with its red brick buildings and Spanish tile roofs, was some cruel joke on the part of the Nazis. The sign over the gates that famously reads - Albeit Macht Frei - Work Makes You Free - must have added to the illusion that there would be a life after Auschwitz for the inmates - a life the vast majority never saw. 

As we approach Birkenau, also known as Auschwitz II, there is no mistaking what this place was built for. There are no trees, except at the parameters - no picturesque buildings, no signs of hope, not even of the false kind. If Auschwitz I was where the Nazis learned their way, Birkenau is where they perfected their evil craft. Auschwitz II was built for one reason: to facilitate the death of as many human beings as possible in the most efficient way that could be devised. 

Again, we were kept on a controlled route that takes us through the heart of the camp. Now, at mid-day, the sun is burning hot in the sky and there is no shade to protect us. The buildings that still stand, that the Nazis didn't demolish to cover their tracks, are simple barracks with none of the faux charm of the older camp. 

Again there are signs explaining the atrocities that went on, but this time they are unnecessary - the barren scene speaks for itself. Except when I get to the end of the path. Finally there are trees. I'm parched from the walk in the scorching sun, desperate for water, but my bottle is empty. At least there is shade, I think. Near the patch of trees are the remains of a gas chamber and crematorium that was destroyed during a prisoner revolt. Then I see it. A sign with a large photo of women and children taken over seventy years ago amid these same trees where I am now taking a brief respite from the July heat. The caption says that these mothers and children had just arrived, and were waiting to be brought to the "showers." That of course was the euphemism used to describe the gas chambers. Some women are smiling for the camera, children are playing. None knows these were their last moments of life on planet earth, captured by Gestapo photographers. 

The trees no longer give me shade. They accuse me like the birds, accuse me of humanity's failure. The motto we have proclaimed since 1945 is "never again," but we know the this isn't true. Maybe it hasn't been done as efficiently, as broadly, or so focused in on one group like it was against the Jews by the Nazis. But we've had the Killing Fields, Rwanda, the political killings in Central America, ethnic "cleansing" in the Balkans, the extermination of Christians by ISIS, and many other genocides since the last camp was liberated in 1945. The trees, the birds, the very ground cry out, asking how long will we continue to destroy ourselves? How long will we deny our common humanity? How long will I stay silent as the blood of the innocent calls from the ground?

This stroll through the rings of a terrestrial Hades didn't have the all at once, sledgehammer blow that the trip to the museum in Washington did for me twenty years ago. This journey worked on me slow, wearing me down, fatiguing my soul. By the end my numbness was replaced by alternating feelings of rage and despair. My emotions were raw, nerves frayed. Though as a Christian I know that neither rage nor despair, while understandable reactions, is correct, at least in the long term, I was groping for some sign of hope.

If this was a journey through the levels of hell, then the pilgrimage as a whole, with its long hikes through heat, rain, and mud - early mornings and late nights, and cramped tram rides were the purgatory. But these trivial privations are insignificant at this moment, and are better left for another time.

What I want to end with is the journey through heaven. Tonight we were in Blonia Park, celebrating WYD's opening Eucharist with Cardinal Stanisław Dziwisz, Archbishop of Kraków, and John Paul's long time personal secretary. There was the singing, the joy that one normally finds at WYD. The priest who gave Holy Communion in our section had a look of preternatural peace in his eyes. The Mass is a shadow of the celestial reality for which we all long. It is our union with the Risen Lord. Here we were, thousands from all over the world, united by our love of Christ. 

This vision doesn't erase the reality that I saw this morning. It also doesn't mean that we as a human community don't have a long road ahead of us. But it was like the Transfiguration, in which Jesus gave to Peter, John and James a glimpse of the Resurrection, even as Good Friday was looming in the future. It gives me hope, and the sight of so many young people united by love tells me that all isn't lost, and the trees, the birds and the blood soaked earth will not have the final word. 

On Pilgrimage: Memories of World Youth Day 2016 - 1st of a Series

I had hopes of delivering real time accounts of my experiences during World Youth Day, but irregular internet availability and the heaviness of the schedule made the journalistic approach almost impossible. I did take some notes along the way, so with those and the memories contained in my mind, I'll have to settle for a memoir as opposed to a report. The plan is to spend the next couple of weeks writing about my Pilgrimage through Spain, France and Poland, culminating with the papal visit to Kraków. 

World Youth Day (WYD) is not for the strong. More accurately put, it's not for the weak who think that they are strong already. Mention of this irregularly triennial event to the vaguely knowledgeable but otherwise uninitiated usually elicits oohs and ah's, to go along with a lot of saccharin about what a blessing it is to see the pope. But like saccharin, such sentimentality is a fake sweetness that leaves a strange aftertaste on the tongue.

WYD is miles of walking everyday in the scorching sun followed by thunder storms and gusty winds, alternated with cramped rides on over crowded buses and trains, on public transit systems ill equipped to see their daily ridership treble overnight. It is living in youth hostels that sometimes resemble army barracks, with 5 or six to a small room and sharing toilet and shower facilities with hundreds of others. If you are blessed enough you'll stay in a three star hotel that makes you wonder what the other two stars were awarded for. While the more recent WYDs have done a better job with food distribution, it can mean enduring food and water shortages. It means spending the last night in an open field that is normally a race track or strip mine, a landfilled swamp or a combination of the three, sandwiched between five to seven mile hikes to and from the site. There is nothing sentimental about WYD. It isn't a sightseeing tour. It is a journey of faith that tests the participants' physical and spiritual limits. 

No, WYD is not a romantic holiday to some exotic pleasure dome that happens to have daily Mass. It is hard work that, when entered into with a spirit of humility, makes the weak truly strong. World Youth Day isn't for the weak, or more accurately isn't for the weak who are content to stay that way, because WYD is a pilgrimage. 

I've been on two such pilgrimages - Sydney, Australia in 2008 and the latest one that ended a few days ago in Kraków, Poland. Fr. Dominic Tran, SDB who organized this year's trip, (along with Fr. Abraham Feliciano, SDB - youth ministry delegate of the Salesian's Eastern U.S. Province), is a veteran of six WYDs. He knows the ins and outs, and the spirit of what WYD is supposed to be about. We had a wide ranging itinerary that brought us officially to three countries, five main destinations with a number of side trips squeezed in over a period of 18 days. At times the stops seemed random, and maybe to a certain extent they were. But what I experienced was that we were where God wanted us at every moment. The path may not have been straight and broad, yet it was true and sure.

Over the next few weeks I'll be reflecting on my experience. I accompanied 92, mainly young adult pilgrims on this journey. Even though all were over 18 years of age, I'll be using pseudonyms when referencing any of them. The only participants I'll mention by name are the Salesian priests, brothers and seminarians who went along on the trip. This isn't an exposé, nor am I dishing dirt, not that there's any to serve up. I just want to respect privacy. These are very personal reflections. There are 92 other points of view among the pilgrims, so I'm not suggesting that mine represent the absolute last word on what WYD 2016 was about.

The pilgrimage had two very distinct phases. Phase one ran from July 16 to July 24. During these days we went from Barcelona, Spain, taking coach buses into France where we visited Lourdes, spent three days in Taizé, then making a stop in Liseiux on the way to Paris. After a one day two night stay in the City of Lights we flew to Kraków for the second phase. 

In the two days before WYD began in ernest, we toured the city, while making stops in Wodowice - St. John Paul II's birthplace, Częstochowa - with its shrine of the Black Madonna, and the concentration camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau. While we were happy to be in Poland finally, without having to change loggings every other day, the pace didn't let up. In truth, it got even busier. We returned to the United States late Monday night - August 1, and many of us didn't return to our respective homes until Tuesday morning. 

I was a part of a group of 93 pilgrims from New York, New Jersey, Chicago, New Orleans, Atlanta, Seattle, Washington, DC, and Toronto - along with other points Canadian. I'm sure I missed a place, but you get the idea - we came from all over the map. The diversity wasn't limited to the participants' residency. We came from a mix of Asian, Western and Latin American cultures. Some of us understood what a pilgrimage was all about, some of us really didn't know what was going on until we were well into the journey. 

I believe that by the end each of us was changed in some way. We encountered the Lord in the liturgies we celebrated, in prayer and fasting, and in the people we encountered along the way. For myself, I got a clearer vision of life as a pilgrimage that constantly calls me deeper into relationship with God. I had a conversation with a Protestant woman from the Netherlands at Taizé - which I'll describe, along with the entire experience there in a later post - where I found myself giving council to her, but was really giving it to myself as well. The message was that accepting Christ as Savior and Lord is the first step, not the last. Accepting Christ starts a process (continues it, really), and can only be walked with the cross on our shoulder and eternity fixed in our eyes. 

These are the bare facts. In the weeks to come I hope to share, not simply the where and when, but the why of my journey. I did not choose to go on this pilgrimage, really. I went gladly when circumstances made it possible, if not exactly necessary, for me to accompany the six pilgrims from our parish of St. John Bosco in Chicago. I believe that for some reason the Lord wanted me on this journey. I believe that he had a reason for each of the 93 of us, as well as the 2.5 million others to come to Poland in July, 2016. Each person had a very personal call, that was, at the same time, wrapped up with a divine motive we all shared: God wanted it, not because I am strong, not because I'm holy - but because I am weak and am in need of His holiness. 

St. Ignatius from "Who Cares About The Saints?" with Fr. James Martin, S.J.

A Very Quick World Youth Day Update for July 28

TAURON ARENA, Kraków - I'm tapping this out on my phone right before Mass. Tauron, where the English speaking catechesis is being held, is a 15,000 seat sports arena that has been pretty much been filled to capacity the last two days. Yesterday we had a conference and Mass calibrated by Cardinal O'Malley from Boston. Today we had Cardinal Tagle of Manilla doing the honors. And this is only one of the English speaking sites, among a multitude of language groups represented here. All in all there are close to two and a half million pilgrims here is Kraków this week. 

I was hoping to get some real time posts uploaded now that I have access to wifi in the hotel we're staying at in the outskirts of Kraków. The schedule that gets us up early and back late makes it hard for this intrepid blogger to get that done. So just a few quick reflections.

Sunday we had a tour of the historic center of Kraków, with its medieval and renaissance architecture, mercifully left intact after Nazi occupation and communist oppression. Our tour guide, Marianna, took obvious pride in her Polish culture. This nation has been so tried over the centuries: partitioned, invaded, and manipulated by foreign powers. The Nazis in particular tried to erase Polish culture, literally outlawing the publishing of literary works and the putting on of plays. The communists went after faith, putting restrictions on the practice of Catholicism. But Poland has survived, with both faith and culture serving as the glue of their society. 

Tuesday we visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, the infamous concentration camps where so many, most notably Eastern European Jews lost their lives. This will demand a full post, which I'm in the process of writing but will finish when I get home. My only reflection right now, is that when we processed this experience as a group many of us talked about the hate involved in such atrocities. Many were speaking in terms of hate crimes as we refer to them in the United States. There is something off about this. Hate is irrational, filled with passion. This wasn't that. This was methodical, scientific, efficient. It was the product of an evil ideology and deconstructed consciences. Passions can be calmed and irrationality can be worked through, though not easily. When someone is completely convinced that the evil they are doing is not only good, but a supreme good, based on logic, we are not dealing with passion. These atrocities were performed by cool, calm and measured minds. What can defeat such evil? Only the logic of the cross, the logic of love. That will be the theme my main post.

Mass is about to begin. More soon.

World Youth Day Update

KRAKOW, Poland — we are now on day ten of our pilgrimage that has brought us to three countries, four if you count a brief stop in the Netherlands on the way to Spain (which I don't). I've been taking pictures and jotting down notes, and plan a series of posts when I get back to the States. for now just a few general impressions of the journey to this point.

We are a diverse, unwieldy band of holy wanderers. We hail from New York, New Jersey, Atlanta, Seattle, Chicago and points north of the border in Canada. our countries of origin are the U.S., Canada, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Mexico, and Ecuador (I'm sure I've left some place out). 

We are 90 as of this writing, and are expecting two more to arrive tonight. All this was organized by Fr. Dominic Tran, director of our Salesian province's vocation ministry office. He's a veteran of at least five of these World Youth Day pilgrimages, and if things haven't always run with clockwork efficiency, we've proceeded with a steady hand guiding us through the ins and outs of international travel. 

As I wrote, I'm only going to offer a few scatter shot reflections here. 

The first stop was Barcelona on July 16. The following day we visited the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia. I'll write something on this when I get back, for sure. But my quick take is that this still under construction masterpiece is a testament to the power of a unique vision guided by faith. Antonio Gaudi, the architect, mixed elements of traditional devotion with a striking naturalism that defies categorization. It isn't modern in the sense we normally use the word, yet clearly doesn't conform strictly to what came before. Gaudi saw God in the ordinary, angels in the atmosphere, the divine moving through the forest, breathing in the trees. Rather than flattening out the sacred and painting over the divine, rendering the unseen as unseeable, the Sagrada Familia pulls back the veil to show that heaven and earth intermingle and that God of nature is no iconoclast.

In Lourdes I entered into the baths of Massabielle, the miraculous spring that our Lady told Bernadette that pilgrims should come to and drink and bath. I did both. I did not go into the waters for myself, but for my brother Joe who's been battling cancer, along with other intentions. Again, I'll have more to say about that.

At Taize I shared the faith with none Catholics in an unthreatening open way. As one pilgrim in our group put it, in the States these discussions turn into debates, and here it felt freer and open.

We had a brief visit to Paris and are now in Poland. I'll try to keep the quick updates coming (now that I have a steady wifi connection that will be possible. Expect a more in depth series in August and September. Please pray for us as we continue our journey. We are praying for you.

Optional Memorial of St. Mary Magdalene Raised to Feast

Devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel From Catholic News Service

“Blest Are the Merciful” (English Lyrics) 2016 WYD Hymn

Just a Song Before I Go

I've longed, of late, to write something light, like a movie review or some piece of All Star Game fluff. I look at the recent posts and they're all unspeakably heavy. Like all bloggers I'm guessing, I have no editor. No one assigns me a story. An itch hits me and I scratch it. Unfortunately the itches I've been getting are more like rashes. Adding to my dilemma, there really isn't any thing in the cinema that excites my interest, and the Yankees are mired in mediocrity as we've hit the metaphorical halfway point of the season. All I'm left with is Brexit, race riots, Islamofacists on the march and a presidential campaign that makes 1968 look like your average middle school student body election. How I pine for a new Christopher Nolan movie to eviscerate or for A-Rod to do just about anything other than the prolonged career death march he's on right now - which is scheduled to drag on into late September 2017. 

I'm in need of a change of scenery. Not a permanent one, mind you. I'm very contented here in Chicago, at St. John Bosco. Just a temporary separation: not just or not primarily from the parish. I need a break from the United States for a while. I think 18 days will due. And as Providence would have it, that's exactly what I'm embarking on beginning Friday.

I'll be heading out, with about ten of us from the combined Chicago—New Orleans contingent, on a pilgrimage that will take us through four countries, culminating in Kraków, Poland for World Youth Day (WYD), which includes a vigil and Mass with Pope Francis and about a million of his closest friends. There will be about 80 of us all together from Salesian works — both official and unofficial. I plan on chronicling the pilgrimage. If I can't post as I go, which is a very strong possibility, I'll post it all when I get back.

I went on WYD one other time, in 2008. It was an experience that I'll carry with me the rest of my life, but I'm not sure it was a pilgrimage, at least for me personally. WYD was held in Sydney, and Australia was great. The people were friendly, and took obvious pride and joy in their nation, and in the opportunity to show it off to visitors. Being so isolated, they simply don't get as many tourists as Italy or France, and so, with the exception of one minor episode on a commuter train that's not worth getting into (the exception that makes the rule), the citizenry were truly gracious. But I was so caught up with being in Australia, literally on the other side of the world from where I'm from, I didn't always appreciate the spiritual dimension of the trip. I didn't go into the pilgrimage with this intention, but when I look back I can see that I was more of a tourist than a pilgrim.

This time my mind is intentionally focused on this as a spiritual journey. We're visiting touristy places - Barcelona and Paris - but also Lourdes and Taizé. In Poland we will visit Czestochowa, the main Marian shrine in that country, as well as places associated with the life of St. John Paul II. We will also go to Auschwitz, and possibly visit the death bunker where St. Maxamillian Kolbe was martyred. There will be moments for taking in the culture, for relaxation, and to simply enjoy ourselves, as their should be. But I the point will be to open up to God and allow him to speak through the places we will visit, the people we meet, and events we experience.

I don't share much about my interior life in this space, at least not openly. When I do, it is usually veiled behind whatever larger topic I'm scribbling about. I share now that I'm ready for this trip as a pilgrimage, and not just a tour. The Lord has been speaking to me in the quiet way that he does to us: not in Mother Teresa or St. Faustiana ways, in visions and complete sentences. No, but in that still silent voice that, if we turn off the phone, take the earbuds out, sitting motionless for a moment, we will hear too. Or at least, if we spend enough time in silence we will begin to hear. He is challenging me. Challenging me to give more of myself. Challenging me to grow closer to Him. Challenging me to trust more in Him and less in myself, in material things, and in human solutions. A pilgrimage isn't magic. I don't expect that I'll come back after 18 days and be a different person. All I pray for is that I'm open to the grace that God wants to gift me, and let Him continue to transform my life as He wants. 

I'm also going with clear intentions. One of my brothers has had health issues lately, along with a couple of members of my SDB community - so you know what I'll be praying for at Lourdes. I have many prayer intentions for those days. I'll be praying for you all, and ask for your prayers as well - for me and all the pilgrims.

I know the title suggests the this will be my past post before flying out Friday. I may get something else in before I go. If I do, I'll try to keep it light. 

The Good Iranian: Sunday of the Fifteenth Week of Ordinary Time / Year C

Brant Pitre, a Scripture scholar from New Orleans, gives a sold run through of today's Gospel reading, the parable of the Good Samaritan. In it he explores, as he does so well with the New Testament in general, the Jewish roots of this famous passage. As for me, I'm not going to communicate my entire homily for this week, but will hit on one point in particular. 

Jesus chooses as the hero of the parable a person who his listeners would have detested, with a visceral, palpable hate. As Dr. Pitre points out in his video, the Samaritans were enemies of the Jews, considered beneath the pagans in their eyes. If we remember last week, John and James ask Jesus if they should call down fire from heaven upon a Samaritan town that wouldn't receive them. Jesus rebukes them. We know from John's Gospel account that a Samaritan woman would be His instrument through which her town, who did permit Jesus to enter, would receive the Good News. In Acts some of the disciples are forced into Samaria after Stephen's martyrdom, which kicked off a time of persecution in Jerusalem. As a result of this unplanned missionary journey, many in that region were brought into the Church. So, Jesus had a plan for them, and it wasn't destruction.

When I was a kid it was pretty common for teachers and preachers to explain the shock that the original listeners would have had listening to this parable by substituting the name Samaritan with Russian or Iranian. It was the Cold War, and we and Soviet Russia were rivals for global domination - at least ideologically, if not territorially. 1979 and '80 was the time of the Iranian Hostage Crisis, when 52 Americans were held prisoner in Tehran. The crisis lasted 444 days, and was a low point in national moral. I think more than the Russian analogy, the Iranian one hit home. We felt the they really were our enemy because it was personal. There were fellow citizens being held against their will in a far away land which was calling for America's death. We never saw crowds of Russians on the streets of Moscow calling for America's destruction. If anything, we were taught to look at the Russian people as victims of communist government. We may not have trusted the Soviets, and enjoyed beating them in the Olympics, but we hated the Iranians, at least for a time. 

Today I don't know which foreign group I would substitute for Samaritan in order to drive home the point that we are to treat everyone in need, not matter their nationality or religion, as a neighbor. We still have questionable relations with Iran, current treaties not withstanding. As a general rule, do we hate Iranians? I don't think so. Do we hate North Koreans? We may think their leader is a nut, but like the Russians of old, we feel pity for the people there, not hatred. Do we despise Muslims en masse? I'm not sure about that. There are people who hate Muslims because they are Muslims, I'm not denying that. There are more, probably, who may not trust them, again as a group, but if they ran into an individual Muslim in distress would probably help. I'd be surprised, though if there was wide spread hate in the land, even toward immigrants. I'm not saying that discrimination doesn't exist, and that there aren't ignorant people out there, just that I don't think it rises to the level of the mutual hate between Samaritans and Jews. The challenge right now is not that we need to be reminded that people living half way around the world are our neighbors. We need to remember that the people living next door to us are our neighbors. 

We are living in a time of domestic division. We are separated by our politics, by class distinctions and by race. We might need to call this parable the Story of the Good Republican, or Democrat. Maybe the Good Black Lives Matter Activist, or the Good Police Officer, depending on what side of the protest line you're standing on. They haven't been in the news lately, but how about Good Occupy Wall Streeter, or the Good Banker? All these opposed groups have real differences, and mention of their label will raise the ire of their adversaries. I'm not suggesting that its just a matter of joining hands and singing some banal anthem. There is work to be done, but its not going get done if we continue to look at each other as enemies. We need to first see that we are neighbors. We need to embrace fellowship in Christ.

Again, accepting Christ alone will not heal these divisions automatically. But Jesus gives us a certain common ground, a transcendent fellowship. Fellowship in Christ gives us a point of departure and return: a path to unity. We have tried the political, economic and ideological routes. They have brought us polarization, a clear sign of the Enemy's hands at work. Consciously or not we have embraced what Fulton Sheen would have called fellowship in anti-Christ. We need to embrace fellowship in Christ Jesus, and allow Him to join us together as something even more than neighbors: He will make us sisters and brothers.

  

An Overwhelmed Heart from AOP

Ideology Isn't the Truth

I began to write this piece, scrapped it, started again and once more deleted what I had written. I was getting into "issues." I was so caught up trying not to sound partisan in light of the shootings (insurgency?) in Dallas, while also straining to come off as relevant that I was tying myself up into knots. I still don't want to be partisan, or political. It's partisan politics and dogmatic ideology that's gotten us into this mess, at least partially so.  

I've been reading a lot of Dorothy Day recently. I approached her with trepidation many years ago, when I read the Long Loneliness. I'd heard a lot about her, and was put off by descriptions of her by both critics and devotees (Day reminds me of what a professor of mine once said about Pope St. Pius X - that he needs to be rescued from his supporters). I wasn't converted by reading her autobiography, but gained a more three dimensional understanding of the woman, and a true admiration. I was also not convinced that her canonization was necessary. While I still can't say that I'm all in on her thought, I am on her as a person. She tried to live an integrated Christian life of a contemplative in action. Now, I still don't think her canonization is necessary, but it would be welcome.

What I find most challenging in her writing is encapsulated in what I read today. It was from 1936. The Spanish Civil War was raging, and the persecutions in Mexico were still going on, though winding down. In both places left wing ideologies were amassing a body count of Catholics, clergy and lay. In Spain the Church was associated with the Nationalists of Franco, and became a target of the Loyalist forces. 498 Catholics, mostly clergy and religious - including nuns - were martyred during the Civil War. Ninety-five of them were Salesian brothers, seminarians and priests. In Mexico 25 martyrs have been recognized by the Church from the Cristero War, though I've heard the number should be closer to 90. The revolt ended in 1929, but in '36 there was a spike in the persecution. Day called for pacifism, that for Catholics to take up arms would be to ignore the words of Jesus to Peter in the garden, that he should stay his sword. To resort to violence would be to mimic those who stood around the cross and told our Lord to come down, if he be the Christ. It wouldn't be Jesus we were depending on, but our own powers to save. Christ could only save us through the passion. As His mystical body on earth we are also called to carry the cross, and suffer with Him. It is through that suffering of Christ on the cross and of Christ through his Church that salvation is accomplished. Not by our own efforts, but by His grace. These are difficult words, at least for me.

I don't disagree with the particular examples she makes. There was enough blood flowing in Spain without Catholics seeking revenge, which is never the proper Catholic response. As for Mexico, I've always felt uncomfortable with he glorification of the Cristersos in the movie For Greater Glory. I don't despise the historical Cristeros by any measure, I understand why they fought. But the image of men on horse back shouting "Viva Cristo Rey!" while gunning people down, as is depicted in the film, seems unfortunate. 

Yet, I can't cross the line into pacifism, to say that armed resistance is always and everywhere morally wrong. If we see a weaker party being butchered, are we to sit back, say our prayers and sleep well, confident that nonviolent resistance will win the day? There were nonviolent resisters in Nazi Germany, and they were guillotined with the public mostly ignorant that they were ever alive, let alone resisting. Martyrdom is not something that can be stumbled into. For those who have assumed the age of reason, it must be embraced, or it really isn't virtue.

I'll save further thoughts on direct action for another time. I do not dismiss Dorothy Day's call to nonviolence. I hold it, caress it, and try to make it fit, but so far I can't. 

Dorothy Day's dilemma wasn't over pacifism or embracing the just war theory. She knew very clearly that she believed in nonviolence. Her struggle was over ideological labels. She advocated for the poor, living poor herself, turning a critical eye on capitalism and consumerism. Of course, the thanks she got was having to contend with constantly being called a communist. She wasn't. She may have had no love of big business, and avoided enticements from corporate America, famously rejecting a potentially life changing grant from the Ford Foundation, but she didn't have any love for big government either. She was trying to forge a philosophy of social action, while avoiding partisan entanglements. 

I've been thinking a lot about Dallas today, as you might imagine. I was hoping to get this post ripped off quickly this morning, but as I started off saying, I've been through several revisions (and still managed to get the business of the parish done). What I've written so far bears no resemblance to what I started out with as the sun was climbing the sky. Now as I wrap up the sun is almost set, and I'm sure it'll be dark by the time this hits the web. My struggle has been over avoiding partisan entanglements. No one will ever accuse me of being a communist. Some might try to pin the right wing label on me, though. And thats the problem. We are in this crisis because ideologues have dominated the conversation, and I'm struggling to find the truth through the spin. This is bigger than Dallas, because the troubles are only beginning. Spin and ideology aren't going to bring us together - aren't going to bring peace.

I am not convinced that pacifism is the always and everywhere correct response to injustice, true. But this was not violence against an unjust oppressor. The police on the streets of Dallas last night weren't the enemy. This is national suicide. 

So I grope, trying to parse words, trying to sound above the partisan fray. Maybe that's impossible. Maybe I should say what I'm thinking, and let others apply the labels, no matter how simplistic and false. I'm trying to cut through the ideology, and drive at the truth.

We've arrived at this place because many of us have put ourselves into partisan, ideological boxes. Secularists accuse Catholics of being rigid and dogmatic, of being closed minded and unable to explore other possibilities, except for what the Catechism allows. I say progressives and movement conservatives are more hemmed in intellectually than Catholics are. Catholics are actually free to take the best of both (and I wish more would, instead of climbing into boxes like the rest). We can debate the just war theory, the death penalty, and how the principles of Catholic social teaching should be applied in concrete situations, sometimes taking very different approaches, and remain faithful Catholics. I'm not sure that's true with progressives and conservatives. 

Catholics follow a person, the Word made flesh, not a platform on paper. Our only hope is to be liberated from the intellectual shackles that bind us, and be free. Not to abandon reason - that's not Catholic either. Christ perfects our reason, sharpens our intellects, makes us free, because He is the truth. 

Discontent on the Campaign Trail '16: How Did We Get Here? (The Long View) Part 1

Left to Right: George H.W. Bush, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, Richard Nixon

A recent Gallup poll showed that both presumptive major party nominees for president have low approval ratings, with Secretary Clinton faring a little better than Mr. Trump in overall "likability." It's not news that many people aren't happy with the choice that they've been left with now that the primaries are over. This phenomenon isn't new. It seems like we've been hearing this same story the last several election cycles: if the issue isn't over personal negatives, it's a lament that the people running don't seem like the brightest and the best. 

The start of this perceived watering of the electoral field is usually traced to 1987, when former senator and Democratic candidate Gary Hart was caught in an extra-marital affair by the press and forced to drop out before the '88 primary season even started. The press was especially aggressive in following the story. Hart warned that such intrusive press coverage of candidates would dissuade qualified people, who didn't want to put up with such close scrutiny of their private lives, from seeking high office. The nation, Hart said, would end up with the "leaders we deserve," which is to say, second rate ones. 

Polls at the time showed that the public didn't necessarily think Hart's peccadilloes disqualified him from being president. Four years later Bill Clinton would survive worse accusations to win the presidency. He was continually dogged by personal scandal during his presidency, which even today affects his wife's bid for the White House, but went on to be reelected, as well as surviving impeachment.

I would argue that the road to our present battle of the disliked and possibly unqualified goes back farther than the Gary Hart, and is more complicated than merely qualified people not wanting to put themselves and their families through a press inquisition. No, there are several factors that have brought us to this point. Over the next few posts I'm just going to outline a few possible causes of our present political quagmire.  Keep in mind, I'm not making a particular judgement as to whether these were good or bad presidents or candidates. I'm more critiquing the electoral process and the electorate who put them in office and why.

It's tricky pinpointing an exact moment when an historical trend begins or ends: the ebb and flow of history is pretty fluid, with events following on each other, in an unbroken line of cause and effect down through the ages. But if I had to pick a time when our politics began changing it would be with the Kennedy - Nixon race of 1960, the first true TV era campaign. The famous observation was that in their first debate those who saw them square off  on TV thought John F. Kennedy won, while those who listened on radio thought Richard Nixon got the better of the encounter. JFK, tanned from taking some time off on Cape Cod, looked healthy and rested, even in black and white. Nixon, on the other hand, still recovering from an infection that developed from a knee injury that hospitalized him the month before, went against the advise of his handlers and campaigned all day, eschewed makeup, looking pail and worn-out with a five o'clock shadow. The visible perspiration on his forehead and upper lip only added to the perception that he was haggard and stressed. These were the first such presidential debates ever held, so needless to say, the first ever televised. It was such a close election — many today still debate who really won — its hard to say how much TV and it's shaping of public perception played in the final result. Campaign staffers must have thought the debates played a part in the outcome anyway, because it would be 16 years before we would see the major party nominees go at it head to head again. 

Even if the debates' impact on the 1960 election is itself debatable, there is no doubt that television changed the way campaigns were run. Whether the relative good looks and overall image of the candidate played a major roll or not, those seeking the presidency in the future used the medium of television to manipulate opinion and form perceptions. LBJ's famous "Daisy Ad"  — even though it only aired once — solidified Republican Senator Barry Goldwater's reputation as a trigger happy crack pot who would precipitate a nuclear war. In his second bid for the White House Nixon, while personally awkward, utilized slickly crafted TV spots, utilizing only his voice speaking over a photo montage, focusing on the war in Vietnam, civil unrest at home and, the rising crime rates of 1968, to position himself as the law and order candidate who spoke for the "silent majority." In seeking reelection in 1984, Ronald Reagan, who was poised and media savvy, made campaign ads that highlighted the increased prosperity at home (Morning in America), as well as touching upon uncertainty abroad (the Bear in the Woods) to project both comfort and disquiet. He was the only one to ensure that economic growth continued, the first ad told us, while the second stressed that he would deal strongly with a Soviet Union that may or may not be reforming.

As for the personal likability and appeal of the candidate effecting his electoral chances, there seems to have been a delayed effect. It's hard looking back at the Kennedy administration and make a fair appraisal, because so much of what we see now is refracted through the lens of JFK's assassination. The Camelot image was mainly the product of post assassination myth making. The reality was that in late 1963 Kennedy's reelection was far from a sure thing. He was having problems getting his domestic program through congress, even though both houses were controlled by his own party. Southern Democrats thought he was going too far with civil rights, while many African American leaders and white northern liberals thought he wasn't going nearly far enough. It was a dangerous world, with Cold War tensions still taunt after the Cuban Missal Crisis of the year before. While JFK's personal image was certainly a factor in his support, it wouldn't have been enough to get him four more years in the Oval Office. 

We will never know for sure if JFK would have won a second term (my guess is he would have, especially if Barry Goldwater was the GOP nominee - though not by LBJ's landslide margin). It was many years before the JFK effect, that a person's "likability" and charisma plays a crucial role in their chances for victory, would take hold. LBJ was powerfully charismatic, especially in dealing with people one on one (Nixon thought he was one of the three best politicians of the 20th century), but I'm not sure even his supporters had a warm feeling for him. Nixon was all intellect, zero personal magnetism. Reagan, a screen actor, was amiable with charisma to spare, and needed every ounce of it to over come his advanced age - which he wasn't afraid joke about to disarm his critics. But Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter and George H. W. Bush didn't exactly light up a room with their charm, and never really formed a personal bond with the American people while they were president. 

I would argue that the visual medium of TV did alter the way presidents were chosen, but until the end of the Cold War the focus was less on the personal qualities of the candidate, and his ability to connect with voters viscerally, as with how the public felt he could handle the job it self. The campaigns used advertising agencies to craft messages that presented their man as competent and strong. I'm not suggesting that personal likability didn't plat a role at all in those years - Reagan certainly benefited from being likable - rather that the main focus was on the hopeful's experience and ability to face the problems of a dangerous world. 

So, the Kennedy years planted the seeds of the cult of personality presidency that only bloomed later. With the specter of nuclear war looming over the world, as well as social problems at home, the stakes were too high for the electorate to make a choice based on image alone. Lets not forget that JFK was both a two term congressman and senator, and was in the running for the VP slot at the 1956 Democratic Convention: he didn't get to where he did just on his looks. But the Cold War presidents still used the mass media to manipulate public perceptions to their advantage. 

The stage was set though for the next stage in the deterioration of the political system. After the Kennedy Assassination there was a steady corroding of public trust in political and social institutions, culminating in the Watergate Scandal that destroyed Nixon's presidency. The press played a big part in Nixon's downfall, spearheaded by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein's investigative work for the Washington Post. It was the Fourth Estate's finest hour, but also the beginning of a consolidated, partisan press that was really just a branch of an industrial media complex that controlled the flow of information the public received in an attempt to fashioned the perceptions of reality. 

Next Time: More on the rise and fall of the Old Media and how the New Media might not be much better.

Left to Right: John F. Kennedy, Harry S Truman, Lyndon Baines Johnson 

Independence Day, 2016

We just finished Mass. Like Thanksgiving, we have one Mass today, bilingual - though skewed English. Unlike Thanksgiving, when the crowd rivals a Christmas day turnout, not many were in attendance.  It's the first year we're trying this, so it might take a year or two to catch on. Also, many of our parishioners have begun their summer vacations already, and are off to Mexico, Texas and Michigan, among other destinations. 

As I wrote the, Mass was bilingual. For us that usually means a smattering of English amid the readings and prayers done in Spanish. Most of our adult parishioners are Spanish speaking, and it makes the most sense to make that the dominant language. But the new Roman Missal has a Mass specifically for Independence Day in the US, so we used those prayers, which are only in the English US addition. 

They are beautiful prayers. The collect reads:

Father of all nations and ages, we recall the day when our country

claimed its place among the family of nations; 

for what has been achieved we give you thanks,

for the work that still remains we ask your help,

and as you have called us from many peoples to be one nation,

grant that, under your providence, 

our country may share your blessings

with all the peoples of the earth.

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever.

The prayer over the gifts goes as such:

Father, who have molded into one our nation,

drawn from the peoples of many lands;

grant, that as the grains of wheat become one bread

and the many grapes one cup of wine,

so before all others be instruments of your peace.

The Prefes continues:

It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation,

always and everywhere to give you thanks,

Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God,

through Christ our Lord.

He spoke to us a message of peace

and taught us to live as brothers and sisters.

His message took form in the vision of our founding fathers

as they fashioned a nation

where we might live as one.

His message lives on in our midst

as our task for today

and a promise for tomorrow.

The prayer after Communion sums up:

May the love we share in this Eucharist, heavenly Father,

flow in rich blessing throughout our land

and by your grace may we as a nation

place our trust in you

and seek to do your will.

Through Christ our Lord.

I felt a welling up of emotion as I prayed the collect. I was afraid that I was going to break down, to be completely honest. I experienced a deep feeling of patriotism, but not in any jingoistic way. The prayer acknowledges that we are one among the family of nations, not above them. At the same time we are unique. The prayers in general stress that we have been called to form one nation out of many different peoples. 

I'm not sure an experiment such as this has ever been tried before. This is what American exceptionalism means to me: that people come from far and wide, bring their traditions and customs, not so much melting them into an indistinguishable pot of molten goo, but placing them on the communal table, where they are shared, transformed, as well as transforming what came before. American culture is constantly being affected by the various immigrant groups that arrive. As an American of Italian descent who has visited the Old Country, I can say that being an Italian American is something distinct. I am an American, but hold a treasure different from my countrymen and women of different backgrounds. This doesn't change the fact that when I go to Italy I know that, no matter how much I love it and my family there, I am not Italian. My values have been shaped by Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, not Garibaldi and Mazzini. 

As Mass ended, and we were processing out, I was again overcome with emotion. I feel as if something is slipping away right now. I am not ready to say that the American Experiment has failed, but it seems to be stalling. We are splintering at a time when we need unity more than ever. The ideals that have guided the country are good, but also need purification. We are locked into an individualism that will destroy us if we aren't careful. We are trapped in a materialism that is turning us inward, making us blind to the world around us, and needs of others. 

My prayer for today comes from the hymn America the Beautiful, which reminds us of our blessings, thanks God for them but also beseeches the Lord:

America! America! God mend thine ev’ry flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law!

America! America! May God thy gold refine 

Till all success be nobleness, 

And ev’ry gain divine!

Some Random Thoughts for July 3, 2016

Blog Notes

I was taken aback at the response to my recent post on Sherry Weddell's Forming Intentional Disciples and the importance of developing a personal relationship with Jesus. It's been among the most visited posts, out side the of obituaries of deceased Salesians, that the site has had. 

What I also like is that it drew some comments. I welcome them, especially those who disagree with me. I moderate them, but I only block comments that are insulting and abusive, spam and, from proselytizers. Otherwise I enjoy a good debate. This may be self serving, but I tend to do better with them in written form. I would have made a terrible trial lawyer, because I'm not always good on my feet. I'm one of those who thinks of what I should have said an hour after the confrontation. But when I have even a few minutes to think I generally can make an intelligent response. I may not always be right, but at least I'm coherent.

In general the blog has seen an increase in traffic over the last couple of months. I unofficially "relaunched" the blog in May after about six moths of sporadic activity. I don't think Bishop Barron has anything to worry about, but it's nice to see that The Ax is growing. I don't get too deep into the analytics, but I've noticed that more and more hits are coming through Facebook. I've always posted the link there, so why traffic from there is increasing right now is a bit of a mystery.

Thanks for reading and for your support. If there are any topics that you want me write on, let me know. Don't be afraid to leave a comment, and keep on spreading the word.

Gearing up for World Youth Day

In less than two weeks I'll be leaving for World Youth Day in Krakow. There are six going from the parish, joining another 80 from various Salesian works of the Eastern Province. Ours is an extended pilgrimage, beginning in Barcelona, Spain, then crossing the Pyrenees into France where we'll hit Lourdes, Taizé, Lisieux and, Paris before concluding in Poland. 

The biggest point the other organizers and I have tired to make to the young people going, is that this is a pilgrimage - a spiritual journey. In the Middle Ages pilgrimages were associated with doing penance; making reparations for our sins and the sins of the world. Sometimes pilgrimages were done in thanksgiving for favors received through the intercession of a saint, or involved a trip to a shrine where a favor was then asked for. The graves of saints, especially martyrs, were popular pilgrimage destinations, along with the greatest pilgrimage of all, to the Holy Land. The journey was also a reminder that we are pilgrims on this earth, journeying to heaven. This isn't a permanent home, but a stop along the way to eternity. Whatever the reason, these trips were always done in the spirit of prayer, fasting and penance. 

With all the stops we're making along the way, especially in Barcelona and Paris, it's easy to look at this as a tour or a vacation: but it isn't. We won't be staying in 4 star hotels or eating at Zagat rated restaurants. The journey will be difficult. The hope is that by doing without and trusting that God will provide, we will grow deeper in confidence of divine providence. 

But in a deeper way, a pilgrimage is a way of growing closer to God, allowing Him into a our lives in a more profound way. God can only really get through to us when we are unattached to material things. We can better hear His voice when everything has been stripped away - our love of money, electronics (especially cell phones), fashions - even food and drink. When we look at material things as tools - instruments that help us live rather than the reason why we live, and learn to do without what we really don't need, God speaks to us, as he always does, but we are better able to listen. A pilgrimage, correctly entered upon, is a chance to grow in that spirit of detachment, thus growing closer to God.

My hope is to be able to blog as I go, chronicling the pilgrimage, if not day by day, at least three or four times over the two weeks. I'll be keeping a journal, and if need be post some things when I get home. Pray for me and all the pilgrims, that we may gain all the graces the Lord wants to impart on us.

Camille Paglia Frustrates the Be-Jeebies out of Me, but I Love Her Anyway

I know that I wrote about university professor, author, social critic and feminist gadfly Camille Paglia in the past (I'm too lazy right now to go back in the archives to find it), but she's been on my mind again lately. 

I saw an interview she did recently on ReasonTV, a libertarian channel on You Tube, where she blasted the PC atmosphere of the contemporary university which is driven in large part by a bloated, entrenched bureaucracy made up of leftist control freaks. Paglia is no social conservative, yet has beliefs many fellow progressive academics take issue with. She believes that the extended, multigenerational family is the best household arrangement (though admittedly not possible in this day and age), and while women should certainly have the right to pursue a career, they shouldn't be discouraged from marrying early and having large families, if they are so inclined. 

To put it very succinctly, at the root of her thought, it seems to me, is a reaction against the primacy of the political in not only art and literary criticism, but in how we view life in general. She claims that the impact of biology and psychology on the choices we make have been put aside in favor of a social critique based solely on political considerations. All art, music, drama, social attitudes - the entire perception of reality, is to be assessed by how it promotes a political goal, not how it matches up with human nature in its entirety. That a woman might want to have children instead of a career, she argues, is a natural consequence of biology that shouldn't be dismissed or suppressed. She doesn't believe that gays are born gay (keep in mind, she is a boldly "out" lesbian, and has been since so before it was cool), rather that homosexuality is a choice arrived at by a multitude of factors, including the the psychological. The points of view she puts forward are never discussed in left wing academic circles, she contends, not because they are false, but because they don't correspond to the left's political aims. 

What I find frustrating about her, is that she believes in the structured meaning in art - that words have a significance, rejecting much of post modernity's assumptions. Yet, she remains an atheist. (Have patience with me here.) I don't know if her atheism represents complete materialism, or simply that she doesn't believe in a personal God but would allow for some metaphysical reality. I just can't see how she can hold the positions that she does and not realize that, while biology and psychology need to be a part of the analytic conversation, objective meaning can't be reached by the natural sciences alone. They are sign posts, but ultimate meaning comes from a non-material source. Most people, in the West anyway, call that source God.

I put Paglia in the same camp with the late senator Daniel Patrick Moynahan whose work, before he took office, on the effects of public assistance programs in the '60's showed that welfare causes family breakdown, not the poverty which the welfare is meant to alleviate, but he still couldn't get himself to break with liberal orthodoxy on the topic. In Paglia's case, she sees that the secular progressive program has gone off the rails (she says that the celebrating of transgenderism and the proposed multiplicity of genders is the sign that a culture is collapsing, not getting stronger), but still can't get herself to part company completely with it. Maybe because she does see embracing the gay lifestyle as a choice, not a predetermined state of being, she finds it hard to reject that choice after so many years. To admit to a spiritual reality, a divine intelligence, personal in nature, would make her have to ask too many questions that are just too painful to face. Who knows?

I believe that there is something perceptive in Paglia's work, something spiritual, or at least that she sees the spiritual reality beneath the material surface. She understands the essential connection between religion and culture, appreciating faith, while nonetheless rejecting it. Not to be sappy or condescending about it, but I pray for her. I think that there are religious people who have totally rationalized religion, losing sight of the importance of poetry and art in the understanding and communication of Catholicism. Paglia, an atheist, gets it. She could be a great champion of a Catholic cultural revival, if only she turned back, and believed what she clearly is able to see.

Bishop Barron on College Campus “Safe Spaces”