Fear and Trembling! Jon Stewart to lecture on Kierkegaard!

No, not that Jon Stewart. But check it out anyway if you'll be in or near the Bay Area on October 21. Drop by the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology for what promises to be an intellectually stimulating lecture. You don't have to be a philosopher to enjoy this!

"Kierkegaard and Hegel on Faith and Knowledge"
When: Wednesday, October 21, 2009, 7:00 pm
Where: Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology, Berkeley, California

One of Kierkegaard's main objections to Hegel's philosophy is that it misunderstands the nature of religion by placing it on a par with various forms of scholarship and knowing. Through his pseudonymous authors, Kierkegaard stubbornly insists that faith is fundamentally different from knowledge. How would Hegel respond to Kierkegaard's objection? I wish to argue that Hegel would find Kierkegaard's conception of faith to be a pure formalism with no determinate content.For this reason, it cannot be properly designated as Christian faith since it has no content by which it can be distinguished from the faith of other religions.

Where Are the Grownups at the Christina School District?

(Photo: FNC)

If this story doesn't aggravate you, nothing will. A pint-sized cub scout has been suspended for bringing a “weapon” to school. And the rocket scientists who are running the school district whose boundaries this child has the misfortune to reside within have sentenced the little guy to reform school because of what they deem to have been a "level three offense." Seriously.

Six-year-old Zachary Christie was so excited to become a Cub Scout that he brought his camping utensil to school. The tool serves as a spoon, a fork and a knife, and Zachary wanted to use it at lunch.

What Zachary didn't know was that the gizmo violated his school's zero-tolerance policy on weapons. And now the Christina School District in Newark, Del., has suspended the first grader and ordered him to attend the district's reform school for 45 days.

Zachary's parents insist their son did not intend to hurt anyone, and they are fighting to overturn the ruling. . . . (source) (see also)

Archbishop Chaput on the Struggle Between "Caesar" and Belmont Abbey College

Here is an important section of Archbishop Charles J. Chaput's extraordinary address to the Envoy Institute of Belmont Abbey College "Envoy of the Year" award banquet last Thursday, October 8th, in Charlotte. I found his words that evening to be prophetic and inspiring.

One of the Archbishop's insights was this gem of an aphorism:

"If we stand up to evil, we may lose. If we don't stand up to evil, we will lose."

" . . . Today the bigots we face are different. Caesar wears a different suit. He has great media handlers. He bullies religion while he claims to respect it. He talks piously about the law and equality and tolerance and fairness. But he still confuses himself with God -- and he still violates the rights of Catholic believers and institutions by intruding himself where he has no right to be.

"It‟s one of the great ironies of the moment that tiny Belmont Abbey would have the courage to challenge Caesar over its right to be faithfully Catholic in its policies, while so many other American Catholics seem eager to give Caesar honors. But God is a God of ironies, as the Philistines discovered, among others.

"One of the deepest truths of the human predicament is this: If you stand up to evil, you may lose. But if you don’t stand up, you will lose. Belmont Abbey [College], to its very great credit, has the character to stand up and defend its right to be Catholic. The Becket Fund stands with it. Patrick Madrid and the Envoy Institute have been standing up for the Catholic faith for many years.

"We have the duty to support all of them with our prayers, our financial resources and pressure on our public officials to stop today‟s government interference with the identity and policies of faithful Catholic institutions. . . . (complete text of speech)

The Rosary: The Devil’s Defeat

By Br. Ezra Sullivan, OP

On the day of Bartolo Longo’s beatification, October 26, 1980, Pope John Paul II called him a “man of the Madonna”; he later called him “a true apostle of the rosary” and “a layman who lived his ecclesial pledge to the full”. And John Paul II knew what he was saying — his own Marian spirituality was influenced deeply by what, as a young man, he had gleaned from Bartolo’s life and works.

So who was this a man who so profoundly affected the greatest pope of the 20th century and who has had a permanent effect on the way we Catholics venerate Mary? Unfortunately, he is unknown to many of those in the English-speaking world. His name is Blessed Bartolo Longo. Most people who know of Bartolo have heard of him from asides made by John Paul II in his apostolic letter on the rosary — but there is much more to this remarkable man than a few pithy quotes. His feast day is October 6th, and this is his story.

In Bartolo’s time, from the 1860s onwards, the Church in Naples was experiencing a spiritual crisis. Unbelief, rebellion, and the occult were widespread and affecting the souls of the faithful, especially college students. Many of them traded the theology of the saints for the philosophy of atheists, made street demonstrations against the pope, and — perhaps most dangerous of all — dabbled in witchcraft and consulted the famous Neapolitan mediums.

Among the wayward students in Naples, one stood above the rest in the depths of his depravity. As a young man, Bartolo not only participated in the anti-Catholic demonstrations, he not only preached publically and vehemently against the faith, he not only sought psychic mediums with his friends — he went even further and became a Satanic priest. Later on, Bartolo would describe how, in the rites of his blasphemous “ordination”, he promised his soul to a spirit-guide, a demon, which shook the walls and manifested itself with blasphemous shrieks.

For over a year, Bartolo lived under the spell of the demon, practicing the rites that were a mockery of the Church’s holy sacraments. Eventually, Bartolo’s experiences as a priest of Satan became unbearable, for the torments of a demon made him go nearly insane. But his family had not given up on him; through their help, he sought refuge in the sacrament of confession. . . . (continue reading)

Details About My Brief Time Behind Bars Last Week

Last Wednesday, I was down in Charlotte to prepare for the Envoy Institute gala event honoring Archbishop Charles Chaput the following evening. But Wednesday night I spent some time behind bars speaking to a group of inmates at a correctional facility in North Carolina. I was surprised and impressed by the experience.

At the kind invitation of Mrs. Phyllis Ryan, a Catholic lady who is very involved with the local prison apostolate, I was given permission by the prison to deliver a presentation on the Catholic Faith to any inmates who wanted to attend. My talk went from 6:00 to 7:00 p.m., followed by a freewheeling hour-long Q-&-A session. I don't know about the guys in the audience, but I can tell you that it was a great experience for me!

I asked for a show of hands at the start of my talk and found that of the 20 or so men attending, only perhaps 5 were Catholic. The others were Protestants of various denominations, but mostly Southern Baptist. They were engaged, respectful, curious, and had come prepared with literally dozens of excellent and, at times, sophisticated questions about the Catholic Church.

I spoke on the theme of "Why Be Catholic?", laying out as best I could the historical and biblical case for the Catholic Church (at least insofar as such a vast subject could be covered in an hour). This was a subject that most of the guys there clearly had never been exposed to, so the resulting Q-&-A session was lively but friendly and mutually respectful. Afterwards, Phyllis mentioned to me that one of the men who had been peppering me with the most questions was a Protestant who referred to himself as a Messianic Jew. That would explain, I thought to myself, why so many of his questions had to do with the Sunday/Sabbath issue and related Jewish subjects.

Many of the Catholic inmates, I discovered, are avidly interested in Scripture study and apologetics, and have been meeting weekly to discuss and learn about how to better understand, explain, and defend their Catholic beliefs. It was inspirational for me, and I hope the stacks of Envoy Magazines we left behind for them will have a good effect. That's something I'd ask you to keep in your prayers.

After my two hours were up, I was escorted back through the padlocked gate in the high chain-link fence topped by a menacing roll of razor wire. A place easy to get into and basically impossible to get out of, unless you've served your sentence or unless you were a guest and it was time to leave.

"These men may deserve to have their liberty taken from them," I thought to myself, "but they definitely don't deserve to have their Catholic Faith taken from them." I hope I have the chance to do more of these kinds of prison visits.

I Miss Caroline

Caroline Schermerhorn, a longtime writer for Envoy Magazine, died of cancer on September 11, 2009. A young wife and mother of six, she was always happy and laughing and cheerfully at the center of so many circles of family, friends, and parish life.

That she is gone now is an ache I feel every day; many times throughout the day. I cannot begin to imagine the anguish her husband, children, and family have been experiencing at her loss. I only worked with her. They lived with her. If I feel an ache, the pain they are feeling now must be beyond words to describe. I ache for them.

When Envoy came back into print after a three-year hiatus from printing, due to a lack funds, Caroline was the first person I called to see about resuming writing for the magazine. She was happily surprised (all of us were) and delighted to get back to writing our "Friends in the Field" and "Diplomatic Corps" profile departments. She was so great at it, and I was delighted that she said "yes." I had no way of knowing that we would only have her writing with us again for just one more year.

One evening last fall, in November I believe it was, Caroline called to let me know that she had cancer and that it had debilitated her to the point where she could no longer continue writing. She was just too weak and sick.

I could hear it in her voice. Her happy laughter, which accounted for about half of every conversation I ever had with her, it seems, wasn't there at all. She sounded so tired, and she didn't laugh — something quite out of character for her. Of course, what was there to laugh about? In that conversation, the last one I had with her, I am sorry to say, she didn't laugh even once. And I knew it was bad.

That's when it hit me that Caroline would be leaving us soon. I tried to push that impossible thought from my mind, hoping and praying, along with countless others who knew and loved her, that she would just . . . get better.

I miss her. I miss her laughter and happiness and her excellent writing. And I want to share some of it with you here. She wrote the following article on her blog back in May of 2004. It is vintage Caroline. Her joy, gratitude, and love shine through each line. Re-reading her words now makes that ache I feel ache a little harder, but almost in a good way. I am sad for us, yes, but I am happy, so very happy, for her.

She was wrong about one thing, though. It does get even "better than this." Read her article and you'll understand.

P.S. Caroline, you now know that the happy tranquility you experienced on the weekend trip you wrote about was just a tiny pledge and foretaste of the joy and peace that I pray you are experiencing now, in heaven, with God and His angels and saints.

Pray for us. We miss you.

It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This!

By Caroline Schermerhorn

As I write this column, I am tucked away in an elegant two-room suite at a northern Michigan golf resort. It is a cloudy, but temperate, 50 degrees outside. Between the lovely gas fireplace in our suite, and an inviting hot tub in the bathroom, some romance and relaxation are a sure bet this weekend.

Having never swung a golf club, I don’t have the usual kind of appreciation for the legendary Weiskopf “Legend” course outside the sliding glass doors. However, there is something exceptionally beautiful about having breakfast while overlooking the eighteenth hole.

We got here last night after a pleasant eight-hour drive, just my husband and I. No Barney tapes, no extra potty stops. I didn't even have to share my drink. We grooved to classic rock, drove for hours without stopping, and guzzled one $2.00 iced cappuccino after another. The car was uncommonly clean, the back seat empty except for our suitcases and a hanging bag with an elegant party dress, suit, and tie. We drank in our old camaraderie, telling jokes, sharing stories, or just holding hands and thinking to the familiar beat of the windshield wipers.

I was in seventh heaven.

“This is the life,” I thought.

When we arrived at the resort, we were seated to a candlelit dinner, tucked away in the dim corner of an elegant restaurant. A talented pianist tinkled the ivories of a shiny black grand piano.

“… and what will you have, young lady?” I looked into the decidedly young eyes of a well-dressed waiter. Young lady? I felt like royalty.

No dishes, no crises. I didn't even have to get up from dinner to find the second ketchup bottle deep in the recesses of the refrigerator. Could anything be so luxurious? “This is the life,” I breathed, sipping a before-dinner drink from a fine crystal glass.

This morning, my husband has a couple of meetings to attend, so I’m alone until lunch time. Completely, gloriously, and unapologetically alone. I sink into the sofa, pour myself a soda, choose an old black and white movie, and settle in for an after breakfast cat nap. With no other person “home” at the moment, I have no needs to look after – except my own. A bubble bath? A quiet bike ride?

This is the life!

We stay up late and sleep in later all weekend long.

By Sunday, I feel just about as relaxed as I've ever been. The smell of morning inspires me to sketch and write as I relax.

Our ride home is equally delightful. We thoroughly enjoy that easy-going, conversational, uninterrupted mode of sharing that we had when we first met.

Once home, it’s time to pick up the children from the various friends who took them in for the weekend. One stop at a time, the six children and their luggage crowd the van, which has been so empty since Friday.

Happy to see each other, hugs and kisses go all around. Almost instantly, the calendar is out, and we are trying to figure out the following day’s schedule. Little League practice was moved up a day, and play rehearsal occurs in the same inning. Dinner needs to be made, bath times scheduled, and laundry cleaned.

Our solitude is a memory of yesterday. The time alone, focused on the eyes of my beloved, is just another twinkle to reminisce over.

Later, in the twilight of the evening, I smell the clean blond curls of my youngest. I savor the sounds of laughing and screaming from the trampoline. I immerse myself in the thoughts voiced by my lovely teenage daughters.

Bedtime hastens. One at a time, I feel the sweet closeness of six goodnight hugs. The eldest disappears up the stairs. The day is over, and I’m ready for bed, too.

But wait, there is one more to attend to… the six-year-old has slipped back downstairs for “one more hug.” His breath is warm on my ear as he whispers, “Mommy, I missed you.”

This is the life.

posted by Caroline @ 11:08 PM

Move over, Beethoven. Classical music accordion style . . .

I mean, really, who needs a 50-piece orchestra when you've got this kid and his accordion? I wouldn't be surprised if the young fellow had downed a few double espressos shortly before this virtuoso performance.

Catholic Haiku

I thought I'd pluck this baby out of our Envoy Magazine back-issue archives. These Haikus were composed by some Envoy Insiders several years ago.

Hmm, maybe I should kick off a new haiku contest. What do you think? Anyway, here they are (and remember, you can only blame me for the first few) . . .

PATRICK MADRID

Parochial Memories

With surprising strength,
Sister’s ruler smashed down hard
on my fifth grade hands

New Tricks for Old Dogmas

Anathema, sit!
I told my little, brown pooch.
He did. Good doggie

The Zen of Parenthood

Irony mocks me
when I shout at my children
to say, "stop shouting!"

Besmirched

How was I to know
not to wear my good suit in
the aviary?

Comedy Is Not Pretty

"You call this humor?"
they shrilled in disappointment.
My Envoy haiku list stank

JIM MOORE

Travails of an Elder

When I genuflect
my knees make a funny noise
they did not used to

Pluriformity

Sometimes, I wonder
how there can be two ways to
pronounce "trespasses"

Red, Red, Wine

I believe deeply
that Jesus, when at Cana,
did not make white zin

DAVE HESS

Strength in Christ

Seeing my resolve,
Satan hastened his retreat
toward the exit

What Kids Should Know

Peter holds the keys
yes, the Bible tells us so,
as do patristics

Where Were You When I Created Haiku?

Job had much patience
a gift that is hard to find;
it helps with Haiku

Balaam Should Have Known

While reading Elijah
I considered Brother Ass
to be of interest

Ring, Ring

When God calls on you,
consider it a blessing;
He calls those He loves

CAROLINE SCHERMERHORN (R.I.P.)

Duty Calls

I’m very sorry
I am a mother of six
I can’t write Haiku

Working for the Man

No time for Haiku.
I still have deadlines to meet
I’ll never sleep

PAUL THIGPEN

Sister Cool

Ubiquitous pantsuit
Earrings, chic coif, and makeup;
new habits die hard.

Want Ad in Milwaukee

Unemployed church renovators
looking for work
we don't do (stained-glass) windows

Catholic ABCs
CCD, DRE
KoC, NCCB
O I M D Z

Liturgical Regurgitation

Stuffed with stale musical Twinkies,
one more ride "On Eagles' Wings"
will make me puke

Happy Monday. Don't forget to start your week with prayer!

Luke 12:24

At times like this, we need Hollywood celebrities to tell us what to do and how to think

This video is in response to this video. The latter is funny, but its message is stupid. The former is funnier still, and its message is true.

Sole Video Footage of Anne Frank Posted Online

I read The Diary of Anne Frank when I was a freshman in high school and was deeply moved by it. I've never heard of anyone who read it and was not similarly moved. The teenager's two-year account of hiding from the Nazis with her parents and other family members and friends in a secret apartment in Holland for over two years was cut short on August 4, 1944, when she and the other Jews who were in hiding were betrayed, arrested, and deported to Auschwitz. Anne perished soon afterward in the death camp.

Until now, I only knew Anne through the pages of her Diary and in the few pictures of her that I've seen. But today, I ran across a newly released, brief video clip of her which news sources say is "the only footage of Anne Frank ever recorded . . ."

The video, uploaded by the Anne Frank House of Amsterdam on Wednesday, depicts the front of an apartment building where Frank's family lived on July 22, 1941, roughly a year before her family went into hiding in a secret apartment.

Frank is seen on video leaning out of the second-floor window of her Amsterdam home to get a glimpse of her neighbor, who is getting married. . . . (continue)

You Can Run But You Can't Hide From McDonalds

Question: What's the farthest distance you can go in the U.S. to get away from a McDonalds?

Answer: "Between the tiny Dakotan hamlets of Meadow and Glad Valley lies the McFarthest Spot: 107 miles distant from the nearest McDonald’s, as the crow flies, and 145 miles by car."

As this map shows, if you happen to be somewhere else like, say, California or anywhere east of the Mississippi, you can run (though not very far) but you can't hide from them Golden Arches.

I spotted this bit of fascinating, if useless, knowledge on the First Things blog. They linked to this post by Stephen Von Worley, who said:

This summer, cruising down the I-5 through California’s Central Valley to the Los Angeles Basin, I unwittingly stumbled upon a most exasperating development: the country strip mall. First, let me state that I don’t hate. I’ve got nothing against Petco, Starbucks, OfficeMax, et al. When overcome by the desire for a cubic yard of kitty litter, a carafe of pre-Columbian frappasmoochino, or fifty gross of pink highlighter pens, I’m there in a jiffy!

But, Mr. Real Estate Tycoon, did you have to plop your shopping center smack dab in the middle of what was previously nowhere? Okay, the land was cheap. And yes, you did traffic studies and proved that the interstate and distant suburbs would drench whatever you built in a raging torrent of eager consumerism. But your retail monstrosity drains the wildness from the countryside for twenty miles in every direction! Sure, you can’t see it from everywhere - but once you know it’s there, you feel it. In the rural drawl of a neighboring rancher, that flat-out sucks!

Which begs the question: just how far away can you get from our world of generic convenience? And how would you figure that out?

As I hurtled down the highway, a pair of golden arches crept over the horizon, and the proverbial lightbulb smacked me in the forehead. To gauge the creep of cookie-cutter commercialism, there’s no better barometer than McDonald’s – ubiquitous fast food chain and inaugural megacorporate colonizer of small towns nationwide.

So, I set out to determine the farthest point from a Micky Dee’s – in the lower 48 states, at least. This endeavor required information, and the nice folks at AggData were kind enough to provide it to me: a complete list of all 13,000-or-so U.S. restaurants, in CSV format, geolocated for maximum convenience. From there, a bit of software engineering gymnastics, and…

Behold, a visualization of the contiguous United States, colored by distance to the nearest domestic McDonald’s! . . . (continue reading)

Elizabeth Smart Recounts the Grim Details of Her 2002 Abduction

Like everyone else (other than the two psychos who kidnapped and brutalized this innocent child), I was elated to hear the news, several years back, that Elizabeth Smart had been rescued from the nightmarish captivity imposed on her. Few people imagined that her situation would have a happy ending — at least as happy as an ending can be in a case like this. I thank God for her deliverance. Now, at 21, she is speaking publicly about what happened.

Elizabeth Smart said Thursday that the man accused of snatching her from her Utah bedroom seven years ago, when she was a 14-year-old girl, raped her repeatedly — three or four times a day — during the nine months he held her captive as one of his wives.

Smart, now 21, was testifying for the first time against suspect Brian David Mitchell, though the two never came face-to-face in U.S. District Court in Salt Lake City. Mitchell was removed before Smart arrived and taken to a holding cell where he could listen to the proceedings.

Smart said Mitchell, 55, raped her for the first time right after her June 2002 abduction — which occurred in the dead of night in her Salt Lake City home.

She told the court that the rapes continued three to four times a day for nine months, and that Mitchell told her she would be killed if she yelled or tried to escape.

She described Mitchell as "evil, wicked, manipulative, stinky, slimy, selfish, not spiritual, not religious, not close to God."

It marked the first time Smart has testified against Mitchell, who is accused of abducting Smart and making her his "wife" to fulfill a religious prophecy.

The court is currently conducting a competency hearing for Mitchell, who has twice before been deemed mentally unfit for trial. A judge ruled earlier this week that Smart's testimony is relevant to determining Mitchell's mental competency.

Smart was poised and composed while testifying for just under two hours.

She said Mitchell abducted her in her bedroom at knifepoint in the middle of the night, took her to a mountain camp and performed a ceremony she said was intended to "marry" the two. . . . (continue)

How an earthquake might create a tsunami off California coast

(source)

Video of first Tsunami Waves Hitting Samoa

As a public service announcement, let's review Tidal Wave Rule #1 : When you see a tsunami, or even something that looks like it might be a tsunami, rolling in from the ocean, do not stop to take pictures of it with your tricked-out camera. Bad things will happen.

These waves and the earthquakes that are causing them (Samoa, Indonesia) are killing hundreds of people, maybe more. Let's not forget to pray for these folks who are suffering through these terrible ordeals. There's no reason to imagine that we in the U.S. won't get hit with something similar at some point.

Below is an interview with an eyewitness to the waves: