Seventh Day of Christmas: Optional Memorial of

The last day of the year is also the feast of St. Sylvester — bishop of Rome in 314. Constantine gave him the Lateran Palace, which became the cathedral church of Rome. Many legends exist about Sylvester. He supposedly cured Constantine from leprosy and later baptized him on his deathbed.

New Year's Eve, along with its innocent gaiety, is really a day for serious reflection. On the eve of the civil New Year the children may join their parents in a holy hour, in prayer and thanksgiving for the gifts and benefits which God has given them in the past year, and to pray for necessary graces in the forthcoming civil year.

Read more at Catholic Culture.

Be Careful What You Ask For

I believe in signs. I believe that prayers are often answered. I believe that God will indulge us from time to time because we are precious to Him and He delights in our delights. But I hope I've finally learned to stop asking for what is freely given in His own time.

formation has a good and thoughtful post about "baiting God" or, in other words, asking for a sign. I especially love being reminded that God delights in us and will give treats as an indulgence. That takes me back to "relationship" and it is too easy for me to forget that at times. Especially at this time of year, I think that increased awareness of God in our lives is so interesting to think over.

That post made me cast back my mind to a time when I didn't believe, asked for a sign, and wound up ponying up first ... only to be given a whopper of a sign.

I think back to a time when we didn't ask for a sign but got a miraculous one anyway.

I think of a time when I was being hounded by God (yes, hounded and haunted and hunted and pestered to distraction) in discernment of my role for the Christ Renews His Parish team. I mean to say the Holy Spirit used scripture, that "small, still voice," people's offhanded comments, and more to whap me upside the head. On one hand, once I figured out what was going on, I was pleased. On the other hand, I was considerably freaked out. Not easy to accomplish simultaneously, but I managed without any problem at all.

Those are just the big examples, not the small instances that pop up here and there, usually when I least expect it. I really tend not to ask for signs as I figure that if I am "listening" or aware enough then I'll hopefully see things unfolding (as with Rose's college choice ... at one point it was like standing in the middle of the runway looking at the airplane circling overhead and feeling that God was standing there signalling where to land ... truly amazing). Not that I don't need a good whap with that holy 2x4 every so often. I also have a dread of getting in the habit of treating God like a vending machine (insert one prayer, receive one sign) because that completely ignores the relationship and so much more about our lives of faith.

Well, Well, We've Got Two Extra Chapters of Daniel in the Bible

Peter Paul Rubens. Daniel in the Lions' Den.

"We" meaning Catholics. I knew there were books the Protestants didn't include such as Tobit (and what a shame that is ... it is fantastic and a favorite of mine). However, this morning, having forgotten to pick up my Magnificat for the daily Mass readings and having already set my timer (to be sure I put in some quantity as well as quality time with God) ... I just did a Bible flip and wound up at chapter 14 of Daniel. Really great and I found it quite absorbing. Specifically I was at verse 13 and I will paraphrase the story (read it here). The king shows Daniel a living dragon, says it is a god and tells him to worship it. Daniel disposes of the dragon quite elegantly, the mob protests his getting rid of a god (as well as another one from earlier in the chapter) and the king responds by tossing Daniel in a den of hungry lions. They leave him in there for 7 days and I was most impressed by the level of detail. For instance, God sends an angel to the prophet Habukkuk to bring Daniel something to eat. When Habukkuk tells the angel that he doesn't have any idea where either Babylon or the den are, the angel seizes him by the crown of his head and whisks him by his hair off to feed Daniel. I just loved that. Picking up my brand new Archaeological Study Bible (which has an adamant "yay Protestant Biblical books choice!" cheering section of the introduction) I was curious to see what they might have for entries on those pages. Surprise, surprise, surprise! The Book of Daniel didn't end at all as I expected with the story of Susannah in chapter 13 and Daniel exposing various false gods in chapter 14. The Protestant Bible only goes to chapter 12. And here is why.

The Hebrew and Aramaic sections of the Book of Daniel thus far dealt with, are the only ones found in the Hebrew Bible and recognized by Protestants as sacred and canonical. But besides those sections, the Vulgate, the Greek translations of Daniel (Septuagint and Theodotion) together with other ancient and modern versions, contain three important portions, which are deuterocanonical. These are:

• the Prayer of Azarias and the Song of the Three Children, usual}y inserted in the third chapter between the twenty-third and the twenty-fourth verses;
• the history of Susanna, found as ch. xiii, at the end of the book;
• the history of the destruction of Bel and the dragon, terminating the book as ch. xiv.

The first of these fragments (Dan., iii, 24-90) consists of a prayer in which Azarias, standing in the midst of the furnace, asks that God may deliver him and his companions, Ananias and Misael, and put their enemies to shame (verses 24-45); a brief notice of the fact that the Angel of the Lord saved the Three Children from all harm, whereas the flame consumed the Chaldeans above the furnace (46-50); and a doxology (52-56) leading on to the hymn familiarly known as the "Benedicite" (57-90). The second fragment (ch. xiii) tells the history of Susanna. ... The last deuterocanonical part of Daniel (ch. xiv) contains the narrative of the destruction of Bel and the dragon. ... The Greek is, indeed the oldest form under which these deutero-canonical parts of the Book of Daniel have come down to us; but this is no decisive proof that they were composed in that language. In fact, the greater probability is in favour of a Hebrew original no longer extant. It is plain that the view which regards these three fragments as not originally written in Greek makes it easier to suppose that they were from the beginning integrant parts of the book. Yet, it does not settle the question of their date and authorship. It is readily granted by conservative scholars (Vigouroux, Gilly, etc.) that the last two are probably from a different and later author than the rest of the book. On the other hand, it is maintained by nearly all Catholic writers, that the Prayer of Azarias and the Song of the Three Children cannot be dissociated from the preceding and the following context in Dan., iii, and that therefore they should be referred to the time of Daniel, if not to that Prophet himself. In reality, there are well nigh insuperable difficulties to such an early date for Dan., iii, 24-90, so that this fragment also, like the other two, should most likely be ascribed to some unknown Jewish author who lived long after the Exile. Lastly, although the deuterocanonical portions of Daniel seem to contain anachronisms, they should not be treated -- as was done by St Jerome -- as mere fables. More sober scholarship will readily admit that they embody oral or written traditions not altogether devoid of historical value. But, whatever may be thought concerning these literary or historical questions, there cannot be the least doubt that in decreeing the sacred and canonical character of these fragments the Council of Trent proclaimed the ancient and morally unanimous belief of the Church of God.

No matter which Bible you use, do go read chapters 13 and 14 of Daniel. I found them both to be ripping stories and (most important of all) to have some good food for thought. As a side note, I checked the Archaeological Study Bible out of the library for several weeks before adding it to my Christmas wish list. All the notes, articles, and commentary are about such things as historical/cultural notes, archaeological discoveries, artifacts, and more. If you go to their site they have sample pdfs to examine. I use it in conjunction with my The Catholic Study Bible or, in the case of my current reading of Romans, the Ignatius Catholic Study Bible.

Dean Koontz and His Catholic Faith

March Hare mentioned, upon reading this quote, that she didn't realize Dean Koontz was Catholic.

For those whom it may interest, here is an interesting interview with Dean Koontz where he talks about his faith with Tim Drake.

The Curt Jester Reviews "In This House of Brede"

This book is certainly no pious stereotype of perfect contemplative nuns, but instead a book that reads more like an autobiography than a novel. The characters in the story are so real that you forget you are reading a novel. From the abbess down to the novices each person described could easily find their counterpart in real life.

Read the whole review. Y'all know that I am a fan and it is nice to see that Jeff enjoyed the book also.

Something I rarely see mentioned about Godden's books but that one commenter pointed out is that Godden's books often have unsettling elements which can often be painful to think about. I think about the way that the youngest child is ignored practically to the point of abuse in Thursday's Children, the way that Lovejoy's mother has abandoned her in An Episode of Sparrows, Philipa's secret in In This House of Brede. I haven't read all of Godden's books but I think that the only one that I have read where I can't remember something of the sort included is The Kitchen Madonna.

I think it is because Godden doesn't sugar-coat life. She shows the worst side of human behavior and we find it painful because we know just how it would feel to be treated like that. However, she also shows the best side and it is a redemptive side that I find extremely rewarding. For me, this mirrors life and I think that Godden does it with a subtle yet sure touch. Perhaps most amazing thing is that Godden manages to show those bad qualities in extremely good, non-offensive prose. That is an art that is lost on many modern writers.

When Atheism Backfires

Michael Coren (found via Brandywine Books) writes about the "banality of atheism" pushing him to investigate faith to see if there was something more worthwhile to be found. Lo and behold, he has been a Christian now for 20 years. With the advent of the so-called new crop of atheists, he hasn't found their arguments much different than the old ones.

Then, just recently, the tarnished old arguments from the flimsy and trendy were re-published in new editions by the likes of Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins and we were all supposed to run away and hide. So I read them. Then began to laugh. It's the emperor and his new clothes. Naked, quite naked.

Nothing new here. Nothing clever or challenging, either.

Busting with errors, hysterical, clumsy, nasty and obviously incredibly frightened. Suddenly, I realize what's going on. It's that God again, helping to strengthen my faith. "The best they can do," He's saying, "is blast you with the same old nonsense they threw at you when you first thought of coming my way."

We have all heard the objections to Christianity that are continually trotted out by those who fancy themselves the first to pose such questions. Heck, I used to believe a couple of them myself. However, I wish I'd have had someone on hand who could have disposed of those objections with the simple logic shown by Coren. I especially appreciated his responses to the questions of "If God were good, He would make Himself obvious" and "Why do bad things happen to good people?" Go see what he says.

All this made me realize that I tend to store up what I consider the deal-breakers for doubters' objections to faith. Coren now has provided what will become my first salvo to those particular questions I mentioned above.

As to the question of Christianity being an invention and necessity for the weak to be able to get by in life, my favorite is still that comment by former atheist John C. Wright:

To those of you who think religion is a self-delusion based on wish-fulfillment, all I can remark is that this religion does not fulfill my wishes. My wishes, if we are being honest, would run to polygamy, self-righteousness, vengeance and violence: a Viking religion would suit me better, or maybe something along Aztec lines. The Hall of Valhalla, where you feast all night and battle all day, or the paradise of the Mohammedans, where you have seventy-two dark-eyed virgins to abuse, fulfills more wishes of base creatures like me than any place where they neither marry nor are given in marriage. This turn-the-other cheek jazz might be based any number of psychological appeals or spiritual insights, but one thing it is not based on is wish-fulfillment.

An absurd and difficult religion! If it were not true, no one would bother with it.

As to the supposedly scandalous accusations about the crimes committed in the name of Christianity, we all wish those were not true but it is undeniable that the Church is made up of people, which is to say ... sinners. Which always turns my thoughts to this quote which says it all.

The church is always God hung between two thieves. Thus, no one should be surprised or shocked at how badly the church has betrayed the gospel and how much it continues to do so today. It has never done very well. Conversely, however, nobody should deny the good the church has done either. It has carried grace, produced saints, morally challenged the planet, and made, however imperfectly, a house for God to dwell in on this earth.

To be connected with the church is to be associated with scoundrels, warmongers, fakes, child-molesters, murderers, adulterers and hypocrites of every description. It also, at the same time, identifies you with saints and the finest persons of heroic soul within every time, country, race and gender. To be a member of the church is to carry the mantle of both the worst sin and the finest heroism of the soul ... because the church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among thieves.

Ronald Rolheiser

Leave It to God to Use You

The basic thing is that I never ask myself what the result of any action will be--that is God's concern. The only question I keep asking myself in life is: what should I do at this particular moment? What should I say? All you can do is to be at every single moment as true as you can be with all the power in your being--and then leave it to God to use you, even despite yourself.

Beginning to Pray by Anthony Bloom

I had to revised my conversion story slightly. A specific part that I never spelled out is that Hannah came home and started pushing us to go to weekly Mass because her religion teacher in kindergarten, Mrs. McDaniel (a woman whose vocation clearly is to teach kindergarten, she is amazing), asked the children who went every week. She then told those who didn't raise their hands that they needed to go home and tell their parents they should be going to Mass every week. As we all know, Hannah went right home, obeyed orders, and ... well, the rest is history.

A couple of weeks ago I glimpsed Mrs. McDaniel at Mass as I sometimes do and realized that I never had thanked her. For her that was a routine part of teaching religion, but considering people's touchy feelings these days (yes, even at a Catholic school), I know that she was taking a risk in telling those little children to go home and push their parents to go to Mass. Of course, I am so very grateful that she did as it changed my life completely as well as that of our family.

I began thinking that I needed to tell her what a difference she had made, but she was always too quick in slipping out the door. Yesterday, at the 11:00 Christmas Mass, she came in. I thought, "Ok, today I am going to be so quick, I am going to catch and tell her." Then she sat down in the pew in front of me. In the place directly in front of me.

I wasn't going to lose a chance like that. I tapped her on the shoulder, meaning to ask her to stay after Mass so I could talk to her. Instead, the whole story poured out (abbreviated and very quickly) into her startled ears. She put her hands to her face, tears came to her eyes, she hugged me. As so often happens, of course, she had no idea that God used her to plant that very specific seed in the one determined person that Tom and I would not disappoint ... our little Hannah.

At the end of Mass, she turned to me again and told me that she had needed so very much to hear that message of making a difference, that I had no idea of what it meant. True enough, I didn't. However, I had that thought suddenly planted about staying alert to thank her and then she sat right in front of me with friends, where I never see her sit. This Christmas gift was coming from a bigger place than me. God never stops moving, never stops working, especially at Christmas Mass.

If you enjoy this blog, then Mrs. McDaniel has touched you too. Aren't we all happy she did her job so well, that she cared enough to send those little children home with that message for their parents? There is no telling how many people's lives she has touched through her devoted teaching of kindergarteners through the years. I am simply the one who was there to speak the words at that moment. I am positive there are many, many, many others who owe Mrs. McDaniel a large debt of thanks also.

On all their behalves let me say again, "Thank you, Mrs. McDaniel!"

I'm Out of Here ...

... until after Christmas! My prayer is that everyone has a very Merry and blessed Christmas everyone and I'll be back on Boxing Day (a.k.a. Dec. 26)!

The Holiday Spirit is Everywhere

From Lifehacker, via Tom.

Who Should Direct the Hobbit?

Since Peter Jackson is declining. Jeffrey Overstreet suggests Brad Bird and I second that suggestion. Read the reasons why at his place ...

"Rescuing your people ... I can't really say it is our prime objective."

Are we ready for Lost? I know I am.

What Does "the Incarnation" Really Mean?

Our church bulletin insert from last Sunday.

Considering the Truth of the Incarnation

“No worldly mind would ever have suspected that He Who could make the sun warm the earth would one day have need of an ox and an ass to warm Him with their breath; that He Who, in the language of Scriptures, could stop the turning about of Arcturus would have His birthplace dictated by an imperial census; that He, Who clothed the fields with grass, would Himself be naked; that He, from Whose hands came planets and worlds, would one day have tiny arms that were not long enough to touch the huge heads of the cattle; that the feet which trod the everlasting hills would one day be too weak to walk; that the Eternal Word would be dumb; that Omnipotence would be wrapped in swaddling clothes; that Salvation would lie in a manger; that the bird which built the nest would be hatched therein—no one would have ever suspected that God coming to this earth would ever be so helpless. And that is precisely why so many miss Him. Divinity is always where one least expects to find it. ...

No man can love anything unless he can get his arms around it, and the cosmos is too big and too bulky. But once God became a Babe and was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger, men could say, “This is Emmanuel, this is God with us.” By His reaching down to frail human nature and lifting it up to the incomparable prerogative of union with Himself, human nature became dignified. So real was this union that all of His acts and words, all of His agonies and tears, all of His thoughts and reasonings, resolves and emotions, while being properly human, were at the same time the acts and words, agonies and tears, thought and reasonings, resolves and emotions of the Eternal Son of God.”

Archbishop Fulton Sheen, Life of Christ

-------------------------------------------------------

In our meditations upon the Incarnation we encounter many familiar images. This is natural and to be expected. It is automatic to think sentimentally and comfortably about the little babe, the adoring parents, singing angels, startled shepherds, and Magi with gifts, while traditional carols echo in our ears.

However, as Fulton Sheen reminds us, the reality of the Incarnation is not comfortable at all. It is God breaking into human time and nature and history to effect a miracle so outrageous that no one would have thought it up in their wildest dreams. The Second Person of the Trinity willingly takes on our limited human nature, purely for love of us. Shocking? Yes. Amazing? Yes. But comfortable? No.

This also is a good reminder that it is very easy to read into Scripture what we would like to see. Pulling the truth out of Scripture, also called exegesis, is considerably more difficult. That truth may prove quite a bit more surprising than we expect. God does have a habit of showing us truth in surprising ways.

To think of the Christ child at Christmas is natural. Undeniably those are the images of the season. However, the meaning of this baby for us and for all mankind is far from a sentimental picture. Jesus comes to us as a baby so we will learn something of his real nature and of the beginning of the path that he will tread and that we must follow.

Pope Benedict XVI helps us to consider further the layers of meaning in the Incarnation. In a Christmas homily* he said:

“God’s sign is the baby in need of help and in poverty. … God’s sign is simplicity. … God’s sign is that he makes himself small for us. This is how he reigns. He does not come with power and outward splendour. He comes as a baby – defenceless and in need of our help. … He asks for our love: so he makes himself a child. He wants nothing other from us than our love, through which we spontaneously learn to enter into his feelings, his thoughts and his will – we learn to live with him and to practise with him that humility of renunciation that belongs to the very essence of love. ...”

In our meditations upon the Incarnation we encounter many familiar images. This is natural and to be expected. However, let us not settle for comfort. Let us dig deeper and discover the true nature of the Lord, he who is Love incarnate, who came to show that love for you and for me.

-------------------------------------------------------

* Read online Pope Benedict XVI’s entire homily from Midnight Mass, Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord.

Story of my life ...

Click on the image to enlarge.
See more of these cartoons here.

Now That is Giving It Up For Your Art ... Matt Frewer I Salute You!

Everyone thought that Max was computer generated, but computers couldn’t do that in 1986. In reality our actor, Matt Frewer, had to spend hours every day having makeup and prosthetics applied to him, including plastic hair and shiny chest piece.

He was then shot on greenscreen, the video was squashed in the Ampex ADO effects box, and the moving graphics were composited into the background in the switcher.

Some video editing (linear, of course) introduced his unique “scratch” effect, complemented with audio effects. Finally, the whole thing was output to a monitor and reshot on set with live actors. Not a computer to be found.

Creative Cow reminds me of how much Tom and I loved Max Headroom, which still inexplicably is available only on old VHS ... the show that still holds up after all these years.

Download the current issue of Creative Cow in pdf form at their website.

The Helpful Catholic's Guide to Discerning Other People's Vocations For Them

One of Disputations' best charts ever. Its funny because its true. (I'll be snickering for a while over this one ...)

You Can Know God's Will. But Will You Want to Do It?

Over and over again this past week, I've found that the challenge is not usually knowing what God's will is...it's following it. There have been some occasions where I really don't know what I am supposed to do and can only go forward in meekness and blind trust. But, more often, when I pray about my anxiety, God's path for the resolution of the situation is actually pretty clear: it involves stuff like smoothing over tense interpersonal situations with great humility and love; resolving financial stress by admitting things I don't want to admit and committing to sacrifices I don't want to make; making overwhelming situations manageable by taking a hard look at my priorities (like, say, stopping half way though a blog post I really wanted to finish to open mail instead) and asking for help when I need it. And so on and so on. Not surprisingly, it keeps coming down to stuff like sacrifice, humility, loving openly and selflessly, patience, being willing to be vulnerable, etc. In other words: really hard stuff that I don't want to do.

Jen at Et Tu?

I feel ya, sistah!

I realized earlier this year that I almost always know what I should do but spend quite a lot of mental effort trying to justify my way out of doing it. Often this is over a real no-brainer and something fairly simple like attending a Holy Day of Obligation Mass (If only they picked more convenient mass times. What would those convenient times be? Well, to be honest ... how about never?)

I don't have to get in a prayerful mindset the way that Jen describes (of course, I'm battling out and out disobedience here, not dealing with anxiety as she is and that's a whole different problem). I already know. I'm like the three-year-old who is coming up with excuse after excuse, trying them out all the while knowing that none of them are good enough.

When I finally give up and give in? Oh, the relief of not struggling any more!

Now that I have realized this pattern, I try to recognize it earlier and just give in ASAP. No matter what I will have to do the "right thing" that I am trying to avoid ... but now without all the added stress of arguing with Papa about it.

I will double back and add that the times I haven't known what to do and prayed about what to do in a tough situation, I almost always get that "little thought" floating from the back of my mind that shows the way. Sometimes when I'm extra dense I get a stern, smackdown. Yes, it's happened. (Which was one of the things that convinced me I wasn't just "making up" what I wanted to hear. I'm always much gentler with myself than God sometimes is.) Nothing makes you jump up and follow marching orders like getting yelled at.

Go read all of Jen's post. There's much more and, as always, it's all good stuff.

I Am Legend. Go See It.

That's Scott Nehring's advice and I, for one, think its always a good idea to follow Scott's advice. He says, intriguingly:

I am Legend is very much worth seeing. Not only do you get a very effective zombie flick (if its fair to call it that) the piece is very Christian in its approach and overall theme. It is very rare to see God place such a central role in a major release film.

They had me at "zombie." Well, to be honest, they really had me at Will Smith. Ahem. Anyway, Nehring's recommendation has my interest to a fever pitch.

Now if I'd only not realized that it is ONE WEEK AND ONE DAY away from Christmas. Excuse me while I breathe into a paper bag to calm my hyperventilating ... at least the thought of Will Smith and zombies will help keep me calm while I whirl around finishing things up.

A Few Reactions to Frankenstein. Ok, Really Just One Reaction.

To the book, not any of the movies.

I'm listening along with CraftLit , about one episode behind. As Heather at points out, Young Frankenstein really is not a bad representation of the book at all, especially Gene Wilder's take on Frankenstein's character.

... what a SHALLOW IDIOT Frankenstein is!

First, when he said he was going to make his creation 8 feet tall, I was waiting for a reason to do this. Oh silly me, no reason. Just seemed like a good idea at the time I suppose.

THEN, when he is horrified at his creation because he's ugly. And what does he do? Goes off to take a nap!

Then Frankenstein comes back with a friend and is only HAPPY to find the monster gone? No thoughts about where he's gone, what he might be doing ... just worry that his friend might have seen him.

I'd like to give that guy a good slap!

Of course, this resonates all the more because I read this morning that scientists think they are on the verge of creating original DNA strands and inserting them in cells to see what happens. I think they all need to read Frankenstein first ...

"But, Jeff, ... what are you doing for the kingdom?"

More Than a Dream: How One School's Vision Is Changing the World by G.R. Kearney

Jim Gartland walked toward a group of four gangbangers who stood in the shadows next to a brick building, just beyond the yellow light cast by a a nearby street lamp. He was scared. Their gang affiliation was clear in the way they wore their clothes, their hair, their shoes. They were out on patrol. It was a hot night in September, and Gartland--dressed in a Roman collar, comfortable chinos, and a pair of Teva sandals--was walking the neighborhood and talking to people. He slowly approached the group, his hands in his pockets, and tried to look self-assured. He knew they were watching him His white face shone in a sea of Latinos.

This was one of Gartland's first face-to-face-interviews, and it's worth nothing that as he approached the young gang members, no one had his back. In a literal sense, he walked the streets alone, following the clearest orders he received form his superiors, to "go out and meet people and tell us what, if anything, we should do." In a figurative sense, Gartland was conducting the feasibility study with very little support from his fellow Jesuits. Even as he walked the streets, many of them were voicing their opposition to the idea of a new ministry, particularly a school. ...

As Gartland drew near the gangbangers standing in the shadows, they turned slowly to face him. He was surprised by how young they seemed, with thin mustaches and beards, and tattoos emblazoned on their shoulders and arms. Still, they succeeded at appearing menacing. Gartland could barely manage to say, "Hi , guys."

If you had told me at the beginning of the weekend that I'd be reading a book about a school start-up and absolutely riveted, I'd have scoffed.

As happens so often, I'd have been wrong.

This is a book of all the little stories that add up to a big picture, in this case the opening of a school based on a completely original learning approach in the poor Hispanic ghetto laden with crime, gangs, and no dreams of a future. We see intertwined the lives of students, the lives of those who will run the school, and the unfolding of the story in a compelling documentary style. I am loathe to share many of the details of the story because part of what has left me so fascinated is watching each hurdle arise and actively wondering how it is going to be overcome. This is not only an amazing story, it is storytelling in a immersive style as we travel with each person on the way. We not only see the personalities, they share with us their personal growth along the way.

The rope course was a hit with the students and an epiphany for Kendall. "At the end of the day, the students were all climbing this wall and I remember one of the girls looking up and saying, 'I'm not going.' I said, 'I won't force you. But you should try. I'll go up there with you.' I thought it'd be a piece of cake.

"We climbed the wall, and when I got up there, I started looking down. I kept telling myself I was safe--I was strapped into a safety harness and wearing a helmet--but every part of my body was telling me I wasn't. My legs were shaking and my heart was pounding. It was really scary. I only realized then how much I'd been asking the students to do. All year I'd been telling them they had noting to be scared about at work. Standing up on the ropes course, I realized how I hadn't been aware of their fear. When we came down, the girl looked up at the wall and said, 'You know, Mr. Kendall, I never thought I could do that, but I did.' She was just gazing up at the wall. And that's when I realized that this was the best thing we'd done all year. I wanted every one of our students to be able to say, 'I never thought I could, but I did.'"

It is also an education into those who would label the Jesuit order as being of a "type." It is a reminder that there are many good people who want to make a difference but simply don't know how until they are offered the opportunity. It is a wake up call that many of those mired in gangs and crime don't aspire to that life, they simply have no clue of how to live a "normal" life that seems as far from their experience as a moon landing.

... During admissions interviews, Kendall, Judy Murphy, and Rosy Santiago learned that some of the incoming students had literally never left their neighborhoods. Some had never been downtown, never been in an elevator or on an escalator ...

In spite of all this ... the lack of funds, the lack of interest on the part of most potential students, the lack of any sensible model to follow, the fear and opposition of those who saw it threatening established schools ... a diverse group of people all found themselves immersed in the dream to serve those who needed it most and who could themselves help to make a difference in the neighborhood of Pilsen. The story is compelling and you will want to read it.

Kudos to Loyola Press for continuing to publish books (They Come Back Singing, A Jesuit Off-Broadway) that take us into other, sometimes uncomfortable, parts of society and our world to remind us that our cozy little corners are not the only thing there is and that God is at work in all of them.

"Because of love!"

This was my favorite chapter from They Come Back Singing (reviewed here). I read it three times because the dynamics of the people's responses and the way the teaching built gripped me by the throat. I loved it. This is long but worth it.

Much thanks to Loyola Press for allowing me to excerpt this chapter. I typed this in myself so if you see typos let me know.

Kogwon Narju

Every day here takes me into new experiences, deeper experiences, yet linking me with the past. I am an old tree growing steadily but always with a new growth of leaves and blossoms. Grace and love move in my heart, and each place and event becomes a new sanctuary of the mystery of my faith.

Yesterday I traveled to the west side of the Nile with Ratib to do a one-day seminar in the settlement village of Cochi. When we arrived, after two hours of driving in the rain and ferry delays, I talked strategy and plans for the seminar with my lead catechists, Kenyi and Osura, as people were coming in to the chapel. Nearly a hundred people there.

It is Lent, so I focused on the theology of the season and how it fits into the church year. That led into a discussion of the life of Christ and why God even bothered to send his Son. What I asked, is the point of Jesus' suffering and dying for us? In these seminars, I use Scripture and lots of acting to engage the group as much as I can in a dialogue about our topic. I know that they have the truth within them. My job is to tease it out and help them claim it.

We were at it for more than three hours.

At the heart of the teaching was the fact that we sin and are forgiven and loved by the one who creates us, the one who sent his only Son as the promise of his love and forgiveness. We are loved sinners.

I asked everyone: "Well, what is sin?"

They gave a variety of answers: "murder," "adultery," "gossip," stealing," selfishness," "hate," "not being faithful to God."

"Are we all sinners?"

The congregation, in a convinced chorus: "Yes, all are sinners."

I pointed to a man in the front row. "Even this old man here?"

"Yes, all are sinners."

"Even this beautiful young mother and her child?"

"Yes, all."

"But surely not Kenyi, your good and holy catechist?"

Lots of nodding and laughs. "yes, all." (Kenyi cracked up as I shook my head at him in mock disapproval."

"But surely not me, the priest? A sinner?"

Now there were lots of snorts, and a chorus of "You, too!" I acted hurt. More laughing from the congregation.

Then I asked, "Did Jesus tell us any stories about how God forgives our sins and loves us in spite of our sin?

There was hesitation, and then a hand went up: "yes, the prodigal son."

"Could you tell us that story?"

The woman stood up and utterly nailed the parable; she was animated, capturing all the attendant emotions and convictions of the story. I asked her to come forward to play the role of the parent of the child who spends his inheritance and then returns to fall on his parent's mercy. She was a frail-looking woman, maybe forty-five, wearing a colorful green and black headpiece. Another person was chosen to be the wayward child, and they acted out the moment of the boy's return after blowing all his inheritance in Kampala. The son fell on his knees, begging forgiveness from his mother. She picked him up and embraced him, showing unconditional acceptance of her son.

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly. (Luke 15:20)

To the woman, I said: "Why did you forgive your boy?"

She responded, "Well, he is my son. I must welcome him and forgive him."

"But why must you forgive your son?"

From the back of the chapel, an old woman exclaimed, "Kogwon narju!" It is the Bari for "Because of love!" -- the ultimate explanation of the mother's act and of the Incarnation. The mother in the drama nodded her head in agreement. So did I.

To the boy, I asked: "Why did your mother forgive you?'

"Because I am her son."

"But you are a selfish and greedy son."

"But she loves me."

I kneaded this truth; Kenyi was pacing me now, figurative fingers on the pulse of my heart, seamlessly tying toegther in Bari my theology and rhetoric.

I instructed the actors to sit down' everyone present applauded. Then I asked a man and a woman in the chapel, Josephina and Mawa, both parents, to come up.

I asked Josephina: "Would you buy exercise books for your daughter who needs them for school?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I want her to have the right materials so she can finish school."

"Why?"

"Kogwon narju--because I love her."

I turned to Marwa and asked the same question.

"Yes," he said, for the same reason.

I said to everyone in the chapel: "Now remember, we are trying to understand how much God loves us."

Then I said to Mawa: "You daughter has to go to Kampala for a medical procedure. Will you raise the money so she can go, and so you can go with her?" Such a trip costs forty dollars in this land where one dollar is a fortune.

"Yes, if I can, I will do everything in my power."

"Why?"

"Because I love her."

When I asked Josephina the same question, she didn't miss a beat: "I will cut firewood and sell grain and borrow from friends so that she can go."

"Why?"

Before she could answer, I turned to the congregation, listening intently, and asked them for the answer.

In a single voice they responded: "Kogwon narju."

I turned to Josephina again: "And if the doctor says your child's kidneys are failing, but she can be saved by a transplant of one of your kidneys--a serious operation in which she will probably live and you might die--would you do it? Would you give one of your kidneys?" (Everyone in the chapel was gripped now, leaning forward, trying to answer the question for themselves.)

"Yes," Josephina answered firmly. "I have lived my life"--said this woman in her early thirties--"and my daughter deserves to live." Smiles, nods, and sighs from the people.

"Why would you do this?"

"I love her. Kogwon narju."

Now I asked Mawa what he would do.

He hesitated, then said, "I have two other girls; if I die, who would provide fo rthem? Perhaps it is best that my daughter die." In a flash I was thinking of all the families I have known in three different refugee settlements who have lost at least one child, some five or six or seven.

"And if the doctor says you will not die if you donate one of your kidneys?"

"Then I will gladly give one of my kidneys."

"Why?"

"Kogwon narju."

I asked them to sit down. The chapel was buzzing. It was a good drama, but it was not over.

The next question I posed to all. "Suppose a doctor comes to you and is trying to find a volunteer for a kidney transplant for a sick person in the village. You look like a possibility as a donor. The person will die without a transplant, and in giving your kideny you may die. Would you do it?

Someone in the back asked: "Who is it?"

I answered slowly: "It is your worst enemy."

Silence.

Then lots of head shaking, nervous laughter, bewildered looks; an old man in the back walked out, waving his arms as if to say, "This is crazy talk." Kenyi laughed as he translated the gentleman; I think he softened it for me. But the old man returned, interested to know what people would say. A mother, nursing her baby directly in front of me, couldn't stop laughing. There were lots of puzzled looks as the people sunk their teeth into the question.

The hands started to go up.

"No way."

"Never for my enemy."

"I would give my kidney. Jesus died for his enemies; am I his follower or not?"

"Humanly, this is impossible. Perhaps with the grace of God, but who has that grace?"

"How is it possible to love this person if in our death our dependents will be without us?"

The chapel was abuzz; everyone was talking--to themselves, to me, to their neighbor, to God--a hundred people engaging their faith, engaging the spirit of God's heart. I reminded them of our question: How great is God's love?

After much discussion, we concluded the seminar. Kenyi and Osura took everyone through a recap of the day's teaching in Bari, with no English to obstruct things. Then they asked the people for an evaluation of the day. They were unanimous: this has been good teaching; we must do it again.

As we left, happiness moved across my heart like the Nile's morning breeze over my face, It was stiflingly hot, I was tired and hungry, the trip ahead would be long and bumpy, I was surrounded by so much poverty--yet I was filled with consolation. It can't be just joy at a job well done. Is it not the joy of the Spirit in me, the joy of God in me?

Ratib smiled reflectively as he downshifted over the last difficult terrain to the main road. He was happy that the day had gone well and that the people were appreciative. Ratib, a Muslim, is my biggest fan.