Liturgica Horarum!

I've been using the Liber Usualis for all of my chanting needs for the past few months (in which time I also picked up a copy of Wheelock's and began translating the Psalms from the Vulgate). I think I'll explain my predicament in economic terms:

Concerning the goods market, the supply of the Liturgica Horarum is extremely low, provoking a high price level (and I suppose a low national output for the Vatican). The demand for the Liturgica Horarum has been steadily increasing for a number of reasons, despite it being completely unnecessary and totally expensive. Mainly, a recent influx of M1 money (as a result of graduating high school... who knew?) caused what I guess would be small time inflation in my wallet.

I should add that I was extra inspired by an article about Padre Pio which reported that he slept 4 hours at night with two 2 hour naps during the day and ate 3 grams of food a day. And also by St. Isadore who had 2 angels help him work in the fields so that his boss didn't get mad at him for always being late because he was at mass. Seems to me that God will allow you to get beyond your little human weaknesses if you ask him (well... not that kind of teasing asking). I figured the books were a bit expensive to have sitting on my book shelf, as nice as they would be employed in such an instance. I always wanted to chant in college, both as a way of getting all the music in me focused on something that will get me to heaven, and as a way of reminding myself (as I lock myself in a small soundproof room) that Christians are called to a life completely different than the rest of the world.

Warning, Long Digression: On that note, I want to start a red cardigan society at Eau Claire: red because that's the color of martyrs, and cardigans because they are wildly different, but horribly practical at the same time, just like the martyrs. The members of The Most Noble Chapter of the Red Cardigan Society of Eau Claire would wear red cardigans to class when the weather was fit for such attire. We'd never advertise what were doing; we'd act as if cardigans are it, because they really are! It'd be intended as a way of encouraging those kids who have an inkling that Christians are somehow called to something outside of this world to completely embrace it, and be encouraged by the "cool" guy walking across the lawn in a red cardigan.

The decrease in supply and increase in demand probobly did not lead to a lower price level (because the Vatican no doubt hopes to avoid bidding wars for such books, the competition over them being so high), but the real GDP of the Vatican increased by $400.

More to follow for sure, but for now a page (actually, my favorite page in the whole book. Pay special attention to the Heth, Teth and Jod bits from the book which was free, but just a bit too usual:

***** This is from the Good Friday Matins. I consider myself supremely lucky that on the day of my first Holy Eucharist and Confirmation I prayed Matins and Lauds at the beautiful St. Agnes . Throughout the two hours candles are put out one by one, until only one remains. This one candle is then hidden behind the alter for a while, and then all those chanting pound on their books until the candle is brought back out. (Watch Father Stromburg of Holy Family during the entrance: when everybody is ready to kneel he pounds on his hymnal, and the whole procession kneels.) I'm also glad I didn't have to sing a song after the festivities as so many poor children are forced to do these days.

But do we have to act like 6 year olds?

This year I didn't sleep all night before Pentecost mass, and I was (understandably) falling asleep during the mass. I remember getting the hiccups during the Eucharistic rite, and I had no doubt in my mind that God loved me. I suppose that was the best I was going to be able to do that day. It’d be ridiculous for me to look at that and say “you didn’t pray that mass like you should have, and it was most inappropriate to be smiling wildly because you were hiccupping.” It’s okay to love God like a 6 year old on occasion!

I ended up at St. Alphonsus church in Brooklyn Center at 5:30 this Sunday for mass. I should include that it was 5:30 pm, because the story would have been different 12 hours earlier (and a average 50 years older... there seems to be a positive relationship between mean age and quality of sacred music). I got to mass very early, knowing that I was going to have difficulties praying such a mass. God is good to me though, and I was laughing from the very beginning: the entrance hymn was in 5/4 and it reminded me to no end of "Take 5". To actually pay attention to the mass I had to wipe the thought of the ridiculous entrance from my head, otherwise I'd substantially back up my claim that "The Gather Hymnal" ripped off Dave Brubeck. What else could I have gotten out of that ridiculous song than a good laugh with God!

I'm a big fan of child-like love of God, because it makes all the sense in the world. It's not paradoxical in the least to say that God, the fountain of all intellect, is sometimes best approached by children with little intellect. It came as a bit of a shock to me to think that I could sit in the chairs at adoration, but that's what God wants from us: he wants to live with us. God is everything, which means that he is both a God you can sit in a chair and talk to, and he is a God that you must kneel before and wonder at. He is a God that you can say "I love you" and he is pleased, but he is also a God that you have to understand. He is an indulgent God, and gives his children every little thing they want, but he is also a demanding God who expects you to deny yourself everything.

It’s great that we can act like children around God. We can even have wild swings of temperament around him and make great resolutions that no man tied to his intellect would keep. Such abandonment is so pleasing to him. But you can’t live that. It’s not as if there are rules for such things (you can only laugh at the entrance hymn once a month) either, which makes it all the more difficult. The 5:30 parishioners of St. Alphonsus act like 6-year olds every Sunday, where as the 10:00 parishioners of St. Agnes never act like 6-year olds (even those who are properly aged for such behavior). I can’t hiccup my way through mass every day, but I can’t be mad at God for not being able to pray the mass either.

So yes, you do have to act like a 6-year old every now and then.

I Love Nuns!

They've just got it figured out. This is the best:

I want to tell Ms. Graham that if she only knew how many hell-raisers and “bad girls” have come to the convent — and stayed — that she would probably have seemed like a wall flower in comparison.

A Nun's Life is now on my Bloglines feed.

National Debt

I've been perusing government websites checking out national debt information, and I had to chuckle a bit. The Congressional Budgets Office proudly proclaimed that it was the 3rd best place to work in the government. Then the Bureau of the Public Debt proclaimed that it was the 4th best place to work. Oh government...

What I've been learning is that we have our undies in far to tight of a bundle when we discuss the national debt. Here's how it works.

The national debt is a whopping 11.4 trillion. About 3 trillion is held by foreigners. What that means is that 8.4 trillion dollars is owed to Americans by Americans. So even though the debt per-person is 37 thousand dollars, they only owe 9 thousand to somebody other than themselves. Of course all those evil rich capitalists own all the debt while the poor victims own nothing.

And only government could set up a system where a people owe themselves trillions of dollars.

Freedom

It so happens that every once in a while God sees fit to put me in a group of people who I have no reason to be around other than to pray for them. Recently I was in such an environment and (this is the one subject that everybody in the world has an opinion on) college advise was being dispensed. The general consensus was summarized articulately as "you have the freedom to do whatever you want".

Freedom is a horribly popular theme in high school too, especially when uniforms, rules and expectations are the norm. Everybody seems to think that it would be freeing to somehow make a clothing statement by it's absence, or that what is really holding them back from being free is that the glue which adheres their hand to their cellphone must be (most annoyingly, no doubt) removed at 8 and reapplied at 3. That's no freedom at all though. It's freedom to be miserable, sure, but what kind of freedom is that? Unfortunately freedom is rarely defined literally as "the ability to do good as one pleases". Instead it's only "to do as one pleases".

Perhaps Mssrs Miriam and Webster assumed on the common sence of English language speakers. What slave ever said "thank the Lord that I have been given the freedom to be enslaved while these pitiable white men do not have the freedoms I enjoy"? It's a mistaken notion of sin which fosters the statement "you can do everything you want". If the speaker understood that that which does not get us to heaven simply serves to make us miserable they could never celebrate the ability to distance themselves from happiness.

In the end you don't really gain many freedoms in college. The other word I'm sick of is "success", and college won't give you any opportunity at that either. What success is it to make money when that money means nothing compared to the riches God offers us every day, free of charge? What freedom is it to drink like a fish when that will only ever make you miserable. Maybe you'll be able to supply a fair amount of temporary happiness for yourself, but once you get tired of convincing yourself that your happy your true state will set in. We already have the freedom to pursue God. If were enslaved on earth we're all the more pleasing to him. That is freedom.

Americans and Their Money

"In 2005, U.S. consumers spent (in real terms) $7878 billion - an amount that exceeded their total after-tax income! Businesses invested $1921 billion, even though total U.S. saving was negative [Investment = Savings, theoretically]. The Federal government spent $1988 billion, financing more than one-fourth of that amount through borrowing."


That's from my economics book. It's frighting enough to begin with that American's are doing everything on credit, but it's even more frighting that this credit is foreign credit. All of this spending offsets the inflationary effects of massive imports.

And what a social commentary! The rest of the world is saving their money so that businesses can increase production while America is consuming like crazy and starving their businesses. Maybe there is something to being a capitalist pig

I should have been born in 1922.

I promise I'll stop writing these awful flowery-fiction bits. At least God has given me a small insight into my future: it's not in fiction. Now if only he could just blurt out which one it is.


I should have been born in 1926.

Maybe I would have been born on April 22nd, the same day Charles Mingus was born. Mongo Santamaria was born a week or two earlier. Judy Garland and Charles Shultz were born later that year. Flutists will be able to appreciate that I'd be the same age as Jean-Piere Rampal. Pope Benedict XV died and was succeeded by Pius XI. Women were able to vote! Ghandi was at work (in the form of being imprisoned for sedition), as were the rising Joseph Stalin and Benito Mussolini. Politics might have been ominous (or maybe it only appears so in the modern lens), but American music was starting to simmer. Louis Armstrong started playing with King Oliver, Kid Ory started recording. Irving Berlin and George Gershwin were both writing, but they waited to become great until I was a bit older. Massenet, Hindmouth and Stravinsky were writing new stuff too.

People still had kids back then. And they lived in small houses, and they didn’t make much money. The depression would have hit when I was a child. What a great gift! Self-imposed mortification is always done so half-heartedly. Maybe not having food, cloths and such would have served to increase my attachment to them, but hopefully not. My parents would have been smart: God provides, and when you think he doesn’t he’s really just providing in a different area. Cheap entertainment would have been a necessity, idleness being seen correctly: somewhere between the “all idleness corrupts” philosophy of the late 1800s and the inactivity of the hippies. The sound of the family radio might have filled the small living room many nights. TVs would have been unreasonably abhorred by my family. I have no reason to feel the way I do about TVs now. Newspapers were still read back then too. And books. Lots of books. I could bought E.E. Cumming's poetry the day it hit the shelves. And F. Scott Fitzgerald, and T.S. Elliot. It might have become incumbent upon me to somehow incorporate single letters into my name, since using your first name in it’s entirety was so out of style. Instead of the Border's book shelf being filled with Maya Angelou (word, Abecedaries), E.E. Cummings, and would have filled the shelves. You can buy a book for than the cost of a movie ticket, and it gives you hours of entertainment and learning. Movies give you 2 hours (the first and last half hour are filler anyways). I’m reluctant to call modern movies as a whole entertaining, enjoyable or anything of that nature. Not so when I would have been a kid though. Movies were art.

I would have been drafted into WWII (after lying about my age). Despite being a skilled saxophonist I would have thought playing music was sissy, and that I was drafted to shoot. My love would have been dismayed, but she would have sent me beautifully written letters while I was over seas. Women had beautiful handwriting back then. Now girls stylize it so much you can hardly read it. An "S" mind as well be a "l" and a "r" looks just like a "v". But not when I would have been 18: women wrote in beautiful cursive. I would have gotten back in '45 or '46. We would have married soon after. CS Lewis' writings would have come to me when I was about 20: if I was confused about God, he would have set me straight. Probably wouldn't have been: moral degradation seems to be a modern invention. Ugly churches, lame priests and "praise music" too. People got married at 20 back then. And they didn't have to go to college to avoid unemployment or mindless manual labor. I could have done very well for myself without spending 4 years at an institution, whether it be one of higher learning or mindless occupation (the line is now quite blurred).

My children would have enjoyed groups like "The Cadillac’s". They might have seen "The Sound Of Music" on their first date. My son would have opened the car door for his date (a 1957 Mercury Monterey. He had to wait until his senior prom to drive dad's car, a black 1956 Thunderbird). She would have said “thank you” too. Men hold doors today and women stick out their arms (they apparently are worried the man might forget their is a women passing through the doorway and in their forgetfulness allow the door to shut in their face). Probably all feminism at work. They don't need men to hold doors open for them. Back then feminists were real women who wanted respect, not these jokes of women who devalue themselves constantly by trying to be men. The kind of women who get treated wrong and say “I think very highly of myself, and I’m not going to marry you if you act like an idiot”, and the boy is scared into knowing what’s what. Nope, my son’s girlfriend would have been a real woman. Maybe they would have danced to Elvis. I wouldn’t have revolted like the rest of society. The same ridiculousness surrounded jazz musicians, all of whom I would have liked as a kid. I would have been justifiably critical of many groups inability to play a 4/4 ballad though. The relentless presence of pulsing triplets would have unnerved me.

I would be 70 years old right now. I’d be old enough to embrace the modern world correctly. Too often kids today cling to their iPods, televisions, computers, cell phones and all the rest thinking that it will make them happy. I would have lived 70 miserable years knowing where true happiness consists before any of the “revolutionary advances” of the modern world. I would probably sit and read books all day. I would have grown up when the church still spoke Latin, so I’d study Latin too. If my wife were to die before me I’d have a requiem mass is Latin said for her soul. I would go to daily mass also, but unlike the wonderful old men and women at daily mass these days I would refuse to utter a single word of conversation until I was well away from the sanctuary. Perhaps I’d go to get a cheap breakfast with my friends after the 7 o’clock mass. I’d go home and perhaps do a little cleaning. Perhaps Rachmoninov’s 3rd Piano Concerto would be playing in the background. I’d sing along, even if I was reading a book. I think in my old age I would have recourse to books that are even older than I am.

I would die without much to do. My kids wouldn’t dare sell my books. They would understand that books are a representation of a person. Knowing what books are on a person’s bookshelf tells you more than talking with them for an hour. They are the physical representations of that man’s understanding. My books would be full of years of scribbles, underlines and discourses. The handwriting would be slightly different at various points, as I came back to the great classics at least every decade. I would direct my house to be given to my grandchild who was engaged at age 22. My corpse would rot just as effectively in this day and age as it will in 70 years when I might actually die, but I have to think that as time presses on the rot which eats away at the soul will only grow.

The - I've Read That - Book Store

I got so excited about this I figured I'd tell the world about it. So here is what a day in my brand new business idea:

A young customer comes in. Perhaps he has a half hour to kill, or the prospect of many more free hours brought him to the book store. At any case, this is not the kind of book store that you would choose to go to with a particular best selling book in mind. There are stores for that already, and the I've Read That bookstore is one of a kind. The store front is relatively plain: white bricks and two windows suffocate the small door. In one of the windows a small piece of cardboard is turned to reveal "open", painted with a steady hand in red. Over the doorway in obnoxiously large red letters reads "I've Read That Book Store".

Once inside the building the young customer takes a quick survey of the surroundings. Books shelves built into the wall surround the store, and each section has two or three of it's own. In the middle of the first section is an over sized chair. A stack of new books surrounds the chair in a haphazard arrangement. A selection of loose leaf tea, a few snack items and a large 3-ring binder filled with loose leaf papers, complete with scribbles, sits on a small table next to the chair. Inside the chair a man who glows with scholarship sits. There are 8 such sections in the store. In the middle of the store is a circular fireplace. On one side is a wood pile. Across is a manly assortment of fire-tending tools, and on either side coffee makers and an assortment of glasses. The fireplace is no doubt the focus point of the store, and it is around here that a half dozen men stand, talking about who knows what.

The young boy, a bit frightened by the apparent depth of the fireplace conversation walks over to the first section (one of the many whose chair is not occupied) and begins to search through the books. One can tell that the books were once alphabetized, but under the strain of masculinity have fallen out of what was inevitably feminine perfection. On the shelves he sees all sorts of books that he knows he ought to read. He pulls out "Paradise Lost" when an animated man with a slightly rectangular face pops up. "I've read that!". The boy is startled, as most men would be, but that is to little effect. The scholar is the sort of man who doesn't care about such trivial things. He continues in the same relentless manner he began. "Milton said it was his attempt to 'justify the ways of God to man'. It's sure somethin'." The boy hadn't said anything yet, and this man was the sort of man who could talk uninturupted for hours. Seeing no reason to stop he continued on, "he writes it in the style of the great Greek epics (the illiteration causes profound excitment in the man's voice), except it's all Christian stuff."

The boy, having regained use of his vocal chords mutters, "yeah... I've heard about it." "Well let me tell you, it's a great read. You might not want that edition though. This one here has a great set of footnotes in it, but the font is a bit small." The two exchange books and an odd silence ensues. "Make sure to come back and tell me what you think" the scholar practically shouts as he hammers the young man's back. The boy goes to the cash registar, but the cashier is a passive participant in the fireside conversation. One of the scholars tells the cashier he's got to get to work and laughter ensues. A characteristic cackle is heard over it all as the cashier runs over to the register, a feat which would have been extrordinary for any of the schollars, who are all a head of hair older than the cashier. Eventually, perplexed by it all, the young man leaves.

Yet the cozyness of it all intrigues him, and after finishing Milton's epic he goes back in. The store is the same save exactly 8 obnoxious hanging signs with names on it. Today all of the scholars are sitting in their chairs reading. They shout out lines every now and then. A "Bill" looks around the corner of his book shelf and says to "Arthur" - you ever read Aquinas' bit on temperance? "Yeah... I got a doctorate in the stuff". "He surprises me every time!". A "Kevin" shouts across the aisle to "Adam" - "Era algo menor que yo, y no sabia de ella desde hacia tantos anos que bien podia haber muerto. Pero al primer timbrazo reconoci la voz en el telefono, y le dispare sin preambuls: - Hoy si... What eloquence!" "Indeed" is the laconic man's reply.

The young boy wanders around and finds Todd, the man who had handed him what really did prove to be a superior edition of Paradise Lost. The scholar is engrossed in his book. The schollar looks up and shouts "Hey Tony, can we get some music with a beat on here". The boy hadn't noticed that music was playing. For a moment he appreciated it, but a profoundly British voice covered it up: "That's Mahler's 2nd Symphony! (He begins to translate the text) 'Man lies in deepest need! /Man lies in deepest pain!Oh how I would rather be in heaven.'" Another Kevin, this one learned in German instead of Spanish, continues "Da kam ich auf einen breiten Weg: /Da kam ein Engelein und wollt’ mich abweisen. /Ach nein! Ich ließ mich nicht abweisen!" It is firmly cemented in the boys mind that these men, with their sweatervests and glasses of tea are, at the heart of it all, really old children.

As this was happening the man labeled Todd immediatly recognized the frightened boy. The two discuss the book in some detail, and (nobody really cared about the music anyways) the other scholars join the conversation in the same way. "Is that Paradise Lost?", "Yep", "I've read that!".

As we approach what in the rest of the world is the Feast of Corpus Christi...

Being relatively new to Catholicism I often have questions. I suspect that may continue into my old age, but for now the pressing question is this:

Why is it that the United States has a special calender such that all of the solemnities are moved off of weekdays onto Sundays?

I have taken to using these guys as my authority on all things liturgically scheduled and according to them us Americans have gotten jipped out of the Ascension and the Feast of Corpus Christi. So all of you learned calendrical liturgists (too much of a stretch?) out there, I ernestly implore your explenations.

Sappy Socialism

Over at Apologus I announced the beginning of my first college course: Economics 104 - Macro Economics. I have my worries about economics. The tendency to make man a rational animal is certainly present. It's to be expected: it's not within the economists field to posit a role for Christian love which supersedes rationality and we should be glad that they don't overstep their bounds. Aristotle and Plato (and no doubt more whom I've failed to read) did well with a loveless-philosophy. Notions of private property are also seemingly continuously attacked by those who are supposed to explain it. After the first day it's been going well though. The book is careful (and never obnoxiously so) to present unbiased truths. At one point they are discussing resource supplies when they say "although some of our energy and mineral resources are being depleted, new sources are also being discovered," and that's the end of it.

I was worried when I read the discussion question:

In our world of limited resources, no one can have all the economic goods and services they want. Therefore, each society must have a way to determine who gets what and how much. In practice, this is often determined by a combination of many different factors. Over the last 30 years, income inequality in the U.S. has steadily increased. There are more poor and more (extremely) rich people than ever. The number of middle-income people has been decreasing.

In your view, what factors determine a person's income in the U.S.? What is the "fairest" way to allocate goods and services? Should we have so many poor people and so many rich people? Should the government use taxes, government spending, and regulations to alter the "free market" results? Briefly explain your ideas.

The door is wide open for the private-property-hating socialists to scream "Bill Gates needs to give up his money because there are kids starving in the slums of Chicago"! But nobody has yet. My offering to the discussion made the claim that "invaluable" skills (such as those possessed by business executives) really do deserve more money and thus equality of goods and services is impossible. True fairness consists in each getting his due.

The only flaw that my classmates seem to be hung up on is that money has to come from somewhere. Outright socialism or capitalism are both intellectual pursuits. Capitalism with a sprinkling of socialism is an emotional pursuit ("but I just feel so bad that he doesn't have a college education"). In as much as I tend to think that most of America is ruled by the latter I think we see how the sprinklings of socialism have showed up throughout the years.

A Mr. S thinks that low-interest government loans should be given to those desiring college education or pursuing legitimate business plans. Miss. E thinks that college education ought to be free. They forget that a college education is over and above "humane" education. It would be inhumane to deny anybody a high school education, but beyond that your going for specialty training. It's inhumane to deny anybody basic nutrition, but T-bones ought to be regarded as over and above the basics. College is not a need, and while our society has faulted us all into thinking so we ought to be careful.

If the cost of sending one kid to college really is $10,000/year then the 220 billion Americans over 19 will be paying 173 trillion dollars a year to send the 17 billion 18-21 year old college students to school. Maybe only 1/3 of them go to college (approximately the number of college graduates 22-25 currently). That's still 60 trillion, costing each American another $250 in taxes a year. And even that number is low. Public universities already get government money to offset the cost to the consumer (that is what we are). Private educations run as high as $50,000 at some colleges. So the price is probobly higher than $10,000/year. More over private donors who provide scholarships, grants and other financial aid to colleges would cease to be as prominent of a reality.

And here is the painful reality of it. Lets say you pay taxes from 22-82. The government gets your money for 60 years. Assuming a flat tax you'd pay $15000 to this college fund anyways. But it doesn't work that way. Those who go to college are going to make more money and pay more taxes, while those who do not go will pay less in taxes. In the end the free education simply pay for itself over 60 years. I suppose it is a low interest, long term loan at it's best, but how's that been working out for America?

A Very Proud Papist

Of late the Catholic Church has been outrageous, and I love it. Firstly, at the ordination mass the Saturday before Pentecost I saw not only 4 arch-bishops and 3 monsignors, but at least 75 priests. On two different occasions the Catholic Church made the congregation sit and watch every single priest come by in a single file line and lay hands/hug the 3 newly ordained priests. What other church can rest on it's awesomeness to such a degree that it makes it's congregation sit through something like that? Most churches attempt to treat their congregation like kindergartners who's attention spans need to be worked within. And the mass of priests speaking together during the Liturgy of the Eucharist was (in very literal terms) to die for.

And secondly the readings of late (particularly the first readings) have been hilarious. I think Tobit is my new favorite book of the Bible. We get to hear from Tobit until Saturday! Here was today's first reading:

That same night I bathed, and went to sleep next to the wall of my courtyard. Because of the heat I left my face uncovered. I did not know there were birds perched on the wall above me, till their warm droppings settled in my eyes, causing cataracts. I went to see some doctors for a cure, but the more they anointed my eyes with various salves, the worse the cataracts became, until I could see no more. For four years I was deprived of eyesight, and all my kinsmen were grieved at my condition. Ahiqar, however, took care of me for two years, until he left for Elymais. At that time my wife Anna worked for hire at weaving cloth, the kind of work women do. When she sent back the goods to their owners, they would pay her. Late in winter she finished the cloth and sent it back to the owners. They paid her the full salary, and also gave her a young goat for the table. On entering my house the goat began to bleat. I called to my wife and said: "Where did this goat come from? Perhaps it was stolen! Give it back to its owners; we have no right to eat stolen food!" But she said to me, "It was given to me as a bonus over and above my wages." Yet I would not believe her, and told her to give it back to its owners. I became very angry with her over this. So she retorted: "Where are your charitable deeds now? Where are your virtuous acts? See! Your true character is finally showing itself!"

And all throughout Easter we heard from Acts. I smiled when the first reading consisted of: so and so went to such and such a place, and met with some people. He said some wise words, converted them, baptized them, and left for another town. What an uninspiring first reading! But the church doesn't need to have inspiring readings or captivating sermons. It has the Eucharist! I laughed after this reading from last Thursday:

The next day, wishing to determine the truth about why he was being accused by the Jews, he freed him and ordered the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin to convene. Then he brought Paul down and made him stand before them.Paul was aware that some were Sadducees and some Pharisees, so he called out before the Sanhedrin, "My brothers, I am a Pharisee, the son of Pharisees; (I) am on trial for hope in the resurrection of the dead." When he said this, a dispute broke out between the Pharisees and Sadducees, and the group became divided. For the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection or angels or spirits, while the Pharisees acknowledge all three. A great uproar occurred, and some scribes belonging to the Pharisee party stood up and sharply argued, "We find nothing wrong with this man. Suppose a spirit or an angel has spoken to him?" The dispute was so serious that the commander, afraid that Paul would be torn to pieces by them, ordered his troops to go down and rescue him from their midst and take him into the compound. The following night the Lord stood by him and said, "Take courage. For just as you have borne witness to my cause in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness in Rome."

Isn't the Holy Spirit great! In a tough jam? The Holy Spirit will find some utterly ridiculous way to get you out of it all!

I am a very proud papist these days.

Like and Love

When I was elementary school the question used to always be "do you love her", which was one step higher than liking her, which was one extremely minuscule step above coexisting with her. But for a Christian it's entirely different.

A nun once told me that you can love people before you even meet them by praying for them. You can pray for your future wife, your boss, and (especially pertinent for me right now) your roommate. What more loving thing is there than to pray for somebody? After loving the obscure person, you may one day meet them. Maybe they are a celebrity-sort that you will never meet. But if you meet, then coexisting becomes the second in the chain of affection. And then you may just like them.

In Kindergarten I coexisted with those who I knew, liked a handful, and "loved" even fewer, but as a Christian I can love everybody (even folks I don't know), coexist with a small portion of them, and actually like a handful of them.