Jesus Goes to Disney World

Familiarity

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 14:34:00 +0000

I don’t know if I cried the first time I went to the barber, but I do know that I almost did the last time. No, it’s not because I have accepted the inevitable ebb of my receding hairline – God has graced me with a few more years of cranial coverage in that regard. Yesterday, when I visited “Mr. Jim,” I knew it was going to be the last time. He is retiring at the end of the month.

Jim Mondimore has been my barber since I stopped having my grandmother cut it, at the age of four or five. Over the past 35 or so years, I have only dared to use a different barber because I was living in Rome, and the flight home was just too inconvenient. Jim was my barber – as he was for so many others in my family and our neighborhood. In fact, no matter where I was living stateside – Essex, Towson, Hagerstown, Annapolis, or even Western Maryland – I’d always make the trek to the barbershop that was down the road from my childhood home.

So yesterday, as I sat in that old chair one last time, we reminisced about the past. We recalled how the neighborhood has changed: how the pizza place next door has continued to run and how the Westway movie theater has become a couple churches and now a “seminary.” I recalled the mysterious card games that always seemed to be going on in the back room, how the price of a haircut went from 5 to 6 to 7 and now 8 dollars, and how I tried to save a lock of my little brother's hair from his first haircut (sorry, Brian, I lost it). Other patrons also recalled the “first time” they walked in and what Jim has meant to them and their boys’ lives over the years. It was almost … liturgical.

Jim has basically given me the same haircut since I’ve had hair, but he has also endured my own “experiments” – as he has many other guys – from an attempt at the “skater look” of the mid-80’s, to his patient endurance of my mullet years in high school. And, while there are certainly flasher and, I dare say, better barbers out there, Jim was ours. And we were loyal.

Each time a customer walked through the door, Jim would look up from meticulously squaring off a forehead or trimming a sideburn to greet them with his clear, Philadelphia-Italian voice (“Hey, muh MAN!” or “Good MORNin’, Fathuh!”). We belonged there – even if he never took appointments (walk-ins only, please).

In the midst of this sad farewell, I have been reflecting on our Gospel for this weekend. Here, Jesus appears to his friends and shares a meal with them. It is a familiar encounter for them – a meal shared with their Master, as they had done so many times before. However, today, it is different. Jesus is risen, and demonstrates to them by words and actions that he is truly alive and that what has been said of him and what he has taught has now been fulfilled.

The disciples are then called to go forth and be “witnesses of these things” to the world. The Church has taken Her call from our Risen Lord’s sharing of His life with that first community of faith. Any time we gather to share the meal of the Eucharist, we are connected to that first community, and to every one that has gathered since then. The modes of celebration have changed, but the relationship remains the same.

Our experience of the Church is a lot like my relationship with Mr. Jim. Sure, there are jazzier haircuts, more convenient shops and cuter barbers; but this place is ours, and we love it. Our priests might not be perfect, our rules might seem “oppressive,” our participation might be spotty, but the Church is patient. Better still, the Church does not retire! Together, we are connected in a bond of love that transcends the incidental elements of normal life.

So, the day we all knew would come is now upon us. I had hoped Jim's career would outlast my hair, but alas, other shears will need to preside over my vanishing coif. As I left the barbershop yesterday, Jim shook my hand and very sincerely asked, “Will you pray for me, Father?”

Of course, Jim. And thanks.

What's the Buzz?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 23:58:00 +0000

Did you notice them?

Were you paying attention during the Exsultet? What popped out at you this year? Did you notice them?

The bees!

Yes, that’s right: I said “bees.” Here we are, on this most solemn night of our Church’s year, we are proclaiming “Alleluia!” ringing the bells, swinging the incense, hearing of the empty tomb, and here I am, talking about bees!

Why are they there, friends? Why bees? Who cares about bees? They are little insects – sometimes annoying – flitting about from here to there – and now, they are buzzing around in our Easter proclamation. Why?

Well, with our revised translation of the Missal, they are actually returning, as they have been part of this ancient hymn from the beginning:

On this, your night of grace, O holy Father,

accept this candle, a solemn offering,

the work of bees and of your servants’ hands,

an evening sacrifice of praise,

this gift of your most holy Church. …

But now we know the praises of this pillar,

which glowing fire ignites for God’s honor,

a fire into many flames divided,

yet never dimmed by sharing of its light,

for it is fed by melting wax,

drawn out by mother bees

to build a torch so precious.

These bees are back for us tonight, to remind us of something simple yet very profound. These little insects, often ignored, often discounted, often avoided, are present here and now for a beautiful theological purpose. They remind us that in God’s wonderful plan of salvation there are no insignificant players. Each and every one of them – and each and every one of us – is necessary and important in this sublime drama that we recall with our liturgy this evening.

In the Liturgy of the Word, we hear of that plan that began with the creation of the world – orderly and purposefully – by a loving and creative God. We hear of God’s liberating power for His people Israel as He leads them through the waters of the Red Sea – prefiguring the waters of Baptism. We hear of God’s care and concern for His people as proclaimed through the words of His holy prophets. We hear in the Gospel of the women who come to the tomb and who return, confused and terrified, to witness to the Apostles that Jesus is no longer among the dead, but that He has risen!

And this drama of salvation continues tonight – here in this place, as sixteen of our brothers and sisters come forward to embrace the faith we all profess together. These candidates and catechumens, who are reborn in Baptism, anointed with the oil of strength and witness, and are nourished at the table of the Lord, are reminders to us that our faith is alive – just as Jesus is alive. And we, too, are called to go forth, as those women did, to witness to the resurrection – to make disciples.

St. Augustine, in one of his Easter homilies, calls the newly received members of the Church, his “new colony of bees.” Now, my “little bees,” it is your task – as it is the task of all of us – to go forth and to make disciples. No one is exempt; no one is unworthy; no one is insignificant.

Just as without those little bees we would have no Easter candle, so too, without you and your witness we would have no living Church.

So, tonight, we rejoice – with the angel choirs, with the hosts of heaven, with all the earth and with the entire Church – and, yes, even with the bees – that Jesus is risen! Now, go forth, and may our faith be fruitful!

Love Without Measure

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 21:21:00 +0000

If you have or hang around teenagers lately you've probably heard of The Hunger Games. It's a movie right now that's based on a book that many of our young people are reading. In it, the future is bleak, and the story centers around annual games that involve teenagers from around the country who are forced to compete in an arena to the death. It's pretty violent, although I have not yet seen the film version. The heroine, from whose perspective the story is told (so she must live, huh?), is introduced as a strong girl who loves her family, especially her little sister.

When the lottery to draw the contestants from their district results in the 12-year-old girl being selected, her big sister immediately volunteers to take her place. She, not her innocent little sister, would go to the games to suffer and die.

The mystery that we celebrate this weekend - the central mystery of our faith, the Passion, death and resurrection of Jesus - is reflected in this same story. Jesus, our God, seeing that we labored under the condemnation of sin and death, steps forward and takes our place. Out of love for us, Jesus bears the sentence and suffers and dies for us.

Who would do such a thing? Why would they do it? How?

St. Francis De Sales once said, "The measure of love is love without measure.". This is the love of God: infinite, perfect, self-sacrificing. We have been ransomed. Jesus has stepped forward in our place; He has stood for us, laid down for us, been lifted up for us, and borne our sentence, so we can be set free - free to love God and free to enjoy the rewards of eternal life, which are won not by us but by Christ. Therefore, as we celebrate the Passion, we are called to imitate that love.

Love without measure.

We Belong to Christ

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 17:03:00 +0000

The “Occupy Movement” is a little more than six months old now. In the midst of the demonstrations and protests that sprang up all over America, we have seen signs of solidarity as those who gather proudly announce, “We are the 99 percent.” Others have picked up on the ideals and can use the slogans to show forth a sense of solidarity for whatever cause we support.

After the HHS mandate for private and self-insured employers provide coverage even for services they find objectionable or immoral, the battle cry in favor of religious freedom became, “We are all Catholic now.” Here, a recognition that an infringement on one group’s rights is a threat to all of us brought about a sense of unity both within and outside the Church.

After the shooting death of young Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida, has raised the ire of many and seen a cry for justice as many protesters have chosen to identify themselves with the call “I am Trayvon.”

While all of these movements have an eye toward what we’d call justice, we need to be very careful as well. Along with this identification comes a lot of division as well. Recently in our culture, there has been greater and greater fractioning of our society as “sides” set up on opposite sides of issues. The ubiquitous labels of “conservative” and “liberal” slide easily into place, and the old bickering begins with every fresh episode in the news.

However, as Christians, we need to take great care here. Yes, the Christian attitude calls us to one or another “side” on different issues. However, it cannot be so automatic that we don’t even think about what the values are that place us on that side. There is no “Catholic” or even “Christian” political party. We cannot be authentic to our faith and fully behind one or another political ideology. First and foremost, we belong to Christ. And He – God-made-man – identified Himself with things, too. He – a first-century, Palestinian man, of Jewish faith and heritage – identified Himself with us, human as we are.

We enter now into Holy Week, and we celebrate all that this identification implied for Jesus: controversy, suffering and death – and glory beyond. However, not for division did Jesus join heaven to earth; nor can we be agents of division either. Remember:

Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all and in all (Col 3:11).

What Are We Hungry For?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 01:59:00 +0000

I've been away from the blog for a while, it would seem. There are good reasons for this, and maybe I'll go into it some other time. Right now, I want to get back on track with a reflection on The Hunger Games. I admit to not being on the bandwagon of having read the books before two weeks ago, but at the advice of my friend's daughter, I gave the first book a shot on my trip to visit our seminarians in Rome - long flight, quick read, book finished. I was impressed - it was not as vapid as I thought (I was expecting another Twilight, I think). Now, the books are being rendered as films, and tweens, teens, and everyone else are running to see it. I've not yet been to the theater, but here is something that strikes me about the who story line.

For those who don't know, Hunger Games takes place at least 100 years into the future in a nation called "Panem" - a totalitarian dystopia forged from the wreckage of what was once North America. The central character, Katniss Everdeen, from whose perspective the stories are told, is a sixteen-year-old girl in one of the poorest districts of this nation. There are twelve such districts, each with its own industry that feeds the state, which is centered in the trendy and glitzy Capitol.

The festivities for which the first book is named are an annual event in which a boy and girl from each district are chosen in a lottery to compete. Twenty-four young people, all fighting to the death, while the nation watches on television, to the delight of those in the Capitol. The Hunger Games were devised after a popular uprising that was crushed by the government. As punishment, and as a reminder of the all-powerful rule of the State, each year, the people must watch as their children fight to the death - all for the "entertainment" of the rest of us.

Now, I will hopefully delve deeper into the experience of The Hunger Games with later posts. What I have to say now is this. This frightening future that is painted, like all literature and art, has something to teach us now. It speaks to the fears and struggles of our world and of our young people. The Hunger Games themselves are presented by the "Gamemasters" as a cheerful form of entertainment - a euphemism for the carnage that will inevitably ensue (very similar to, oh, I don't know..."Planned Parenthood"?). These young people - innocent - are sacrificed in order to remind the people that the State is the power and the weak, powerless and poor have now control over their destinies - no choice, no real rights - all for the exultation and comfort of the ruling class.

The sense of nihilism that seems to infect the young protagonists should not surprise anyone. They are, after all, simply cogs in a bigger game that they are not playing. In our own society, we can fall into the same trap - feeling that we are merely rolling along toward an unavoidable future that will value us less and less. It is interesting to note that there is no mention of God or faith in the books (as I have read so far). Where there is no God, there is no hope - and people will cling to anything that offers a potential for security - even at the cost of the dignity of other human life.

Our young people are facing this society with a hunger of their own. They hunger for meaning; they hunger for hope; they hunger for God. This is no game for us. Mother Teresa once said that "It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish." This is true for individuals and for the State; it is true for the child in the womb as well as the child born into poverty and suffering. We don't get to decide these things - that is, if we believe in a God of love, a God of hope.

It is my practice to pray every day for our young people. The Hunger Games just reinforces that decision all the more.

Of FarmVille, Onions, and Fasting

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 15:27:00 +0000

Father Michael Foppiano changed my life. That’s right! Changed. My. Life. We used to live together at another parish – and folks referred to the rectory with us in it as “the frat house.” We had the youngest median age of any rectory in the diocese – of course, it was just he and I.

But back to him changing my life. It was a Saturday in December, just ahead of Christmas. God had seen fit to dump about 10 inches of snow on us, and we were socked in to the rectory all weekend. We watched movies, baked cakes and updated our Facebook statuses. Then I asked the question that changed my life. Fr. Michael was on his laptop playing a familiar game. So I asked, “What the heck is that FarmVille thing about?”

My life would never be the same. Soon, I had my own online farm, complete with cows, chickens, pigs, horses, barns, houses, orchards, carrots, peas, raspberries, watermelon, beehives, duck ponds and stray cats. I was planting and harvesting several times a day and even checking on friends’ farms in order to pick up a “lonely cow” or a lost cat. I was consumed by FarmVille.

By the time Lent rolled around that year, and I looked at my life and possibilities for a Lenten sacrifice, FarmVille was a no-brainer. I closed the farm for the season – but I itched to see what was going on there every Sunday. When Easter came, I jubilantly proclaimed “Christ is risen!” by planting fields of rice and sunflowers and collected my chickens’ eggs and horsehair.

I went right back to my FarmVille mania.

The following year, I recognized that giving up FarmVille would be a good idea again. The novelty had died a little, and I did waste so much time with it. However, this time, at the end of Lent, I never went back. Was that supposed to happen? I asked. Now, I had all sorts of time, so I found something else to fill it – like talking with real people – and, get this, praying!

During Lent, when we “fast,” the object is not to deny ourselves for the sake of denial. That’s repression, and psychologists can tell you that it’s not healthy. Rather, the purpose of fasting is self-mastery – giving up some good for the sake of a higher good. And that higher good should not be self-centered. That’s the difference between fasting and a diet, for example. We diet for ourselves; we fast for others.

Fasting is the second of the pillars of Lent. As with prayer, a good understanding of why we fast is key to allowing this practice to be spiritually fruitful for us during this season. Strictly speaking, fasting means forgoing something that we normally do as an exercise in self-control, usually in preparation for something. When I need to have a blood test, I have to fast for twelve hours before they draw the blood.

In the spiritual realm, fasting is an interior disposition of self-denial that is meant to focus the person on ones need. Fasting from food reminds us that “one does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Mt 4:4). Fasting from other things is also a way to remind ourselves that there are necessities and luxuries, and that many of the “necessities” that we often rely upon are actually not so necessary. So, this Lent, what can we give up? What can our fast be? There are many things in our lives that we could offer as our fast, and as such, many ways to enter into the gift of this spiritual practice.

The most common item for fasting is food. As part of our Lenten practice, folks give up all sorts of edible delights. Maybe it’s meat; perhaps it’s dessert; it could be soda, or alcoholic beverages; a girl at the college campus where I used to serve gave up cheese; it could be caffeine.

Another area for fasting can be technology. So much of what we do, and so much of where we waste our time – like me and FarmVille – is tied to the technology that is supposed to make our lives “simpler.” As a way of mastering the technology that seems to have mastered us, fasting from these things can be of immense spiritual benefit. We could fast from television – either altogether or after a certain time; we might opt to leave Facebook for forty days (a very popular one today); maybe we can stay away from Twitter, and spare people the moment-to-moment information about the soccer game we’re watching; perhaps – just perhaps – we can stop or limit our text messaging.

Finally, another way to fast is to refrain from certain activities. Some might stop going out to restaurants or the movies; maybe give up complaining or gossip; or we can refrain from using the elevator at work. Whatever our manner of fasting, the point of it is to draw our attention to what we do, where we spend our time, attention and effort, and to become more aware of our needs and the needs of others.

Fasting as a spiritual exercise should be aimed at sharpening our spiritual senses and focusing us on God’s care for us. In the end, when we cut one thing out of our life, the goal of fasting is to see that hole filled by God. In this regard, it is not in the true spirit of Lent to be gritting our teeth until Easter, when we can simply go back to the thing we gave up in the first place. If we are not somehow changed by fasting, then we have wasted our time. Self-denial provides the opportunity for us to become aware of other – and especially of “The Other” – God. We’ve heard the phrase that “our possessions can possess us.” When we cling to certain things for security or a sense of validation and self worth, the real risk is that we could actually lose ourselves in the process.

In his book The Brothers Karamozov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky tells a parable of an old woman who dies. She is sent to hell, and Satan is there, and she is pleading her case with him, saying that she must be there by mistake.

“You haven’t done one good thing in life,” Satan tells her. “Certainly, this is where you belong.”

After thinking long and hard, she remembers a good thing she did: she gave an onion to a poor beggar woman once. At that point, the hand of God descends into hell, holding the onion that the woman had given. She grabbed onto the onion, and she began to be lifted up to heaven. As she went, dozens of souls began to grab onto her and were lifted up with her. As they went, more and more damned souls were being carried upward toward eternal glory. Fearful that the weight was too much, and angry that they would be allowed into heaven too, the woman began kicking and beating people so that they would fall. As she did so, the onion began to shed, and she grasped at it to keep a grip, but the more she struggled to keep the onion and reject the others, the more she slipped, until she finally lost hold altogether. She feel back into hell – a victim of her our greed and anger.

What are those things in our lives that we grasp at? What are those possessions that possess us? These are probably the things which God is asking us to hand over so that He can fill us more completely. Self-denial is the key to self-mastery. Thomas Merton once wrote that in order to give ourselves completely we must first possess ourselves completely – not in a selfish way, but in a way by which we know who we are. Then, and only then, can we truly and freely give ourselves to God. Through fasting, we can establish who is in control of our desires. Self-denial leads to self-mastery; and self-mastery enables a self-gift.

As the complete gift of Himself, the Eucharist shows us the model of this gift. Jesus, knowing fully who he was and what God had given him, showed the depth of his love and gave us the Eucharist. Our sharing in this blessed Gift is a reminder of the sort of lives we must live – lives of gift of self, where we hold nothing back.

In fasting, we come to realize our deep needs – hunger, loneliness, spiritual “noise,” despair. The spiritual aspect of this is that we also realize that our God fills these needs for us – and He does it with Himself. Therefore, our celebration and reception of the Blessed Sacrament should be a moment of profound gratitude for that love and care that He shows. This is part of the value of the Eucharistic fast – of preparation for reception by self-denial – of recognizing that Jesus is all we need. By taking that time between when we last eat and when we receive the food that is Jesus Christ himself, we come to the celebration as not just some other encounter among many in our week or day, but a truly transformative moment of grace. As a priest once told me, “What good is it that the bread and wine change if you don’t?”

So fasting brings us into a keener awareness of what God is doing in our life. We find the strength and grace to break with those things that can possess us and discover true freedom in Christ.

I am reminded of a scene at the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, when Frodo must destroy the Ring of Power and Gollum tries to get it back (his “Preciousss”). Even as he falls into the molten depths of Mount Doom and his body is destroyed by the lava, he still strives to grasp the one thing that drove him in life. He is like that Russian woman with the onion – selfishness and possessiveness ultimately lead to destruction, when selflessness and generosity would have saved them.

We are here, hopefully, because we want to be near to God and be possessed by Him forever. In our Lenten fasting, then, how do we let go of those unnecessary things so as to focus more completely on His love for us?

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Products that Captivate

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 13:42:00 +0000

I am a fan of many of the Apple products. I like their simplicity in design and elegance in appearance. Maybe I am too attached to the "cult of Apple," but I do count it as a victory that I have yet to obtain an iPhone! With every Apple purchase I have made, I have received in the packaging, several white Apple decals. You've probably seen these on the rear windows of Hondas or bumpers of your friend's Camry. In this practice, Apple is not very different from most companies. It's good business to get others to advertise for you.

Kids will pay extra to have a t-shirt that says "Hollister" or a purse with the Coach symbol all over it, and these companies love it. Think about it: you are paying them to advertise their product! In many cases, even the product itself is the advertisement, and the mere fact that it is seen generates interest in it.

I have been wondering how that can apply to our faith and what we do as a Church. Now, I am always wary of comparisons of the Church to business models; however, as a vocations director, much of my job is publicity and "marketing." Perhaps my youth minister and evangelization friends feel the same way at times. The question is: "How can we attract more people to this thing we love so much?" "This thing" is our faith and the Church that teaches it.

Sure, cute stickers, gimmicky advertisement and engaging videos certainly draw attention; but once we have that attention, why should people stay or come back? What captivates them?

The product is the advertisement.

We are talking about the credibility of what we do as a Church - what we do as ministers. Where does that come from? Why would an interested young man decide to follow his perceived call to priesthood? Why would a group of kids take their Sunday nights to hang out with others and share their faith? Why would a family new to an area regularly attend the local Catholic Church? What is our "product?"

A kind letter to new people in an area; a short, fun video by your youth peer ministers; a witness talk by a sincere seminarian: all of these can grab attention. But what keeps people in - what captivates them - is not the exterior bells and whistles (or even "smells and bells"). What captivates them is our credibility as a place where God is encountered and where He reveals meaning in my life. Credibility does not come from a well-ordered argument; credibility comes from a well-ordered life.

The world needs witnesses - examples of a way of life that is better, that brings meaning, that brings life. That is the power of the saints - that is the value of witness. In a world where we must be "wise as serpents and innocent as doves," our lives speak.

Madison Avenue has their tricks. Advertising can transform people's entire worldview. I can't put the letter "i" in front of anything now without conjuring an image of a balding man in a black turtleneck holding the latest cool gadget. Evangelization is like that too. Certainly, we are not selling anything - but the "product" is worth it. What does out witness advertise? What sort of message does our way of life convey?

What will we do today to captivate others - for God?

Back to Our Roots

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 18:56:00 +0000

I wanted to learn something new this year. This was one of my resolutions, so I did what any modern man would do in seeking out a new experience: I asked my Facebook friends.

After several suggestions that I learn a new language (I got everything from Arabic to Klingon), someone simply wrote "Genealogy." It was immediately intrigued. One of my cousins several years back tried to do a family tree on one of the branches of my mother's side, but that was a pretty limited project. I thought I could do more, and I had the curiosity. So, off to Ancestry.com I went and signed up for their trial.

I've learned a lot, and while the farther back one goes the dicier it gets, it's been a fascinating experience so far. Many on my mother's side can be traced back to the founding of Maryland. In fact, one of our great-grandfathers was William Stone, Third Proprietary Governor of Maryland. His greatest claim to fame is probably the fact that he signed into law the Religious Toleration Act of 1649, which guaranteed freedom of worship and practice to all Christians in the Maryland colony. It was unique for its day. Soon afterward, however, Stone was deposed by a Puritan governor and those rights were revoked. It wasn't until the First Amendment that the freedom of religion was enshrined again in our nation.

I think about that, and how religious freedom has been such a part of my life here in America that we all seem to take it for granted - like the air we breath or the truths of mathematics. However, a quick scan around the globe and a short trip through history shows how rare it is and what a privilege we have now. Even as short as fifty or sixty years ago, the Catholic Church did not espouse the freedom for all to embrace whatever religion their conscience led them to, asserting that "error has no rights." All that changed with Vatican II, and thank God it did.

The blessing of free exercise of religion, at least in our nation, has been that men and women have been free to follow their faith and develop their virtues as their consciences dictate. This was the hope of the founding fathers: that people of faith make people of virtue, and people of virtue make a virtuous society. That's why Congress shall not interfere.

Today, however, we see this freedom of conscience and religion being tossed aside, as religious institutions are being forced to provide coverage for services that go against their personal and institutional conscience. Mind you, no one is telling the Church we have to provide the actual instruments of birth control, sterilization and abortion; however, what the Church is being told is that we must pay for it - essentially participating in a material way in the very evils we have condemned.

I have enough of a problem with my tax dollars going to fund unjust wars, the execution of criminals and "services" like Planned Parenthood. I do not need to be told that now my collection support must also fund these things. The Church cannot comply with this mandate - She just can't.

The US bishops have been pretty forceful in denouncing this move, as have other Catholic media forums. As a Catholic blogger and a priest, I feel it necessary to also urge others to voice their concerns about this assault on religious freedom. The USCCB has a link to assist us in contacting our representatives in this regard and ask them to do the right thing and uphold the Constitution with a rejection of any such mandate. This is not about contraception or abortion as much as it is about our right to exercise freely the faith we hold so dear.

George Washington, at the beginning of his presidency, wrote to American Catholics and said this:

I hope ever to see America among the foremost nations in examples of justice and liberality. And I presume that your fellow-citizens will not forget the patriotic part which you took in the accomplishment of their Revolution, and the establishment of their government; or the important assistance which they received from a nation in which the Roman Catholic faith is professed.

I thank you, gentlemen, for your kind concern for me. While my life and my health shall continue, in whatever situation I may be, it shall be my constant endeavour to justify the favourable sentiments which you are pleased to express of my conduct. And may the members of your society in America, animated alone by the pure spirit of Christianity, and still conducting themselves as the faithful subjects of our free government, enjoy every temporal and spiritual felicity.

The father of our nation knew the proper relationship between Church and State. Let's pray that we always hold true to the spirit of those words.

There Are Still 11 Months Left

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 20:35:00 +0000

As we come toward the end of another January, I find myself preoccupied with a certain question:

How y'all doing on those New Year's resolutions?

Each year, billions must be made - I will exercise more; I will eat less; I will go to church more often; I will be a better friend; I will learn to play the tuba; I will start writing my book; I will be a vegetarian, take up yoga, run with the bulls, swim with the dolphins, study ancient Native American macrame. ... You can see where I'm going.

Many times, though, if I ask someone what their resolutions are, they tell me that they don't bother to make them - mainly because they never have stuck to them in the first place. In a sense, it's "too-hard-don't-try." I myself have been guilty of this at times. After all, pledging to give up the Funions and grape soda, only to find myself going on a binge in early February, can lead a man into - well - more Funions and grape soda. It's a lot easier to remain as I am.

However, I still think there is a value to making resolutions each year. We need them, in some way, to help ourselves to grow. Unless we are "practically perfect in every way," like Mary Poppins, we all have room for such growth.

Cardinal Newman once said that "to be human is to change; to be perfect is to have changed often." In assessing our current life and making resolutions, we are recognizing that we have the capacity to improve - to become better - even perfect. To be perfect is to be perfect-ed, and to be perfected means to allow something or someone to act on you to effect that perfection.

Going into this year, we recognize that none of us is perfect - yet. However, there is One who is ready and able to start that work again in us, all we have to do is resolve to cooperate.

Now, where's my yoga mat?

Ah, the Interruptions!

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 02:07:00 +0000

We've all been there before: you're at a movie, or play, or Mass, and a cell phone goes off. I've had wake services where a young man's phone rang during the reading, then during the homily, then again during the homily! You'd think people would learn - or at least get the hint. It is annoying, and the wish is that people would learn and develop a sense of public decorum that would tell them to silence the things. However, the reality is, it happens.

When a phone goes off on me during the consecration - and it has - my human thought is to stop and glare. But, that is not helpful - nor does it advance the celebration. Such an action would simply draw attention to me, and to the offender, and away from Jesus.

I found this video today, and I am struck by the masterful way that the violinist takes the "interruption" and transforms it into something beautiful.

And isn't that what our liturgy is celebrating anyway? Here, we gather to remember when, it seemed, that Christ's mission was not only interrupted, but ended; but it in that very "interruption" that God accomplishes His great work: our salvation. Perhaps the next time we hear one of those intrusive ring tones, we can remember how God uses such moments as opportunities for grace.

One of my favorite such moments to remember was at a Saturday evening Mass a few years ago when I heard a phone go off. "We announce that people should turn those things off!" I thought. "What's up with this?" The phone kept ringing, until I realized where it was coming from.

My pocket, under my alb.

Spiritual but not Religious

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 14:29:00 +0000

This video has been making the rounds in the YouTube and Facebook universe this past week. "Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus" has provoked some pretty strong responses among "religious" people who disagree with the young man, as well as those who agree with him. It caught my eye in particular because I teach a class at St. Mary's Seminary on Catholicism and American culture, and our next class is actually covering the "Spiritual, not Religious" idea so prevalent in our culture today.

Now, one of the posts that has received a lot of attention is one man's rebuttal of the young man's claims in the video. It's a good argument, but an argument that has no resolution at this point. Another of my colleagues in priesthood here in Baltimore who has worked with a lot of youth as well noted that this young man's thoughts - very cleverly expressed - represent a very widespread attitude among young people, and it is worth dialoguing rather than defending or rebutting. He's right.

Today, many people - young and not-so-young alike - will say that they are "spiritual" but not "religious." This usually means that they pray but don't see a need to be engaged in any external or institutional expression of their faith. It's a common thought that a study by researchers at the University of North Carolina has identified as "Moral Therapeutic Deism." This "faith" has some tenets as well. Namely,

A god exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.
God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
God does not need to be particularly involved in one's life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.
Good people go to heaven when they die.

One of the dangers of this "faith" is that it tends to draw a person away from the community aspect of our religious life and into a more individualistic expression of faith, ultimately leaving one without the support of that community until there might be a crisis. However, it is innocuous enough to be the widespread "religion of choice" for many young people today.

Now, this young man's thoughts line up in part with what that study found, but he also leaves some clues as to how we can dialogue with him and his particular thought as well. Present in his words is a clear (at least to me) sense of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. While to some Catholics that might sound like evangelical salvation talk ("Accept Him as your personal Lord and Savior"), I think there is more to it. This guy found Christ - or rather, was found by Christ. Getting defensive about that in the face of a critique of overly legalistic religion can only underscore his argument. Would that more young people discover Jesus in their lives!

I disagree with this young man as to the opposition of Jesus and religion. I think that what a lot of folks may experience as "religion" could certain make his claim true. However, Christianity - which he clearly says he embraces - is not a collection of rules and institutions. It is a relationship with a Person.

So, thanks, dude, for getting this out there. The conversation has begun. It's not over just because we make a cute video, nor is it over because religious people throw rebuttals at him. Our young people deserve better than that. They deserve the truth. I think this guy is on track to eventually be open to the fullness of that truth, because with it offers is a real relationship.

And the relationship is what's most important.

Oh Wow!

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 16:00:00 +0000

Apple CEO, Steve Jobs, died on October 5, this past year. The man who gave us the iMAc, iTunes, the iPod, iPhone, iPad and Pixar Studios is universally acknowledged as a modern visionary who could look at something and immediately begin to find ways to improve it. When he died, it seemed that a bright light had gone out.

In her eulogy for him, Steve’s sister wrote about his last hours, and how her brother’s sense of wonder never really died. She wrote:

But with [Steve’s] will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were: OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.

“Oh wow!”

This is what we are celebrating today – not Steve Jobs, but that sense of wonder and how God uses it. Today, on the Epiphany, we celebrate that moment in time when God-made-man, Jesus, is revealed to the world.

The wise men, we are told, consulted their charts, watched the sky, and wondered at the new star that they saw – the star that rose with the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Seeing this, they set out in search of its meaning, confident that they were being led by some transcendent light. They probably knew nothing of Israel’s history, the prophets and the promises of God. They did not realize that a people in the west longed for a Savior. But they knew that something special was now happening.

So, they followed.

It’s wonder that brings us here. It’s wonder that keeps us coming. It’s wonder that will send us forth to be signs to others and bring them to Christ as well.

How is God at work here – in our lives? With what gifts has He blessed us? It often takes wonder to see it, and this is why God gifts us with that blessing through the Holy Spirit. Wonder allows us to be blown away. It brings us to a level so far beyond ourselves, and yet so near, that we almost can’t believe what we find.

This is what a vocation is, too. We often want to believe that we have everything figured out – that we know exactly what’s happening and what’s happening next. We’ve got “the plan,” and we like it that way – until that plan is upset, and we are thrown into confusion, maybe a little despair, and then the realization that we were never really in control anyway. God has the plan, and when we allow ourselves to be abandoned to that, we realize the great things He is working out through us.

The wise men came from afar, with grand ideas and fancy gifts, camels, entourages and tents. However, what they found was nothing like they expected: a stable, a baby and His poor parents in a tiny hamlet in Palestine. The newborn King of the Jews.

Their journey started with wonder at what that star might have meant – their first “oh-wow” moment. Following that wonder, their journey ended in wonder at discovering the Messiah.

When we consider what God has called us to be – ordained minister, consecrated religious, married or committed single life – we can sometimes think that we’ve got that figured out. However, if this is not part of our prayer – part of our open conversation with God about what He wants – then that journey will not end in our complete happiness. We might feel good about it, but that will be it. However, when we stop and think about the adventure of faith that we are on – that journey of wonder and awe that recognizes that God has made us to be someone special and knows exactly who that is at the moment of our creation – when we discover that call in our lives through honest prayer and giving ourselves over to God’s will – the result is spectacular. Words fail us at that point. We can only look on in awe.

... and say, "Oh wow!"

Where is Your Sting?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 09:46:00 +0000

I received the final installment in the Harry Potter film franchise this Christmas, and one morning last week I watched it whilst folding laundry. At this point, I don't even think I need to apologize or post "spoiler alerts," because if you've not seen or ready the Potter movies or books, frankly, it's your own fault!

So... as I watched the end of the entire saga, and Harry's final showdown with his bald, reptilian nemesis, I was struck by the defeat of Voldemort - as we should have been. Harry and friends have spent the last two (and a half) films, seeking out the horcruxes - those objects that contain pieces of the Dark Lord's soul - in order to destroy them and render the Evil One vulnerable. By the time Harry is able to impose his final wand blast against Voldemort, all seven of them have been destroyed; Voldemort is disarmed and then something interesting happens. Harry does not hit him again with his best shot. Rather, Voldy simply begins to fade away - fluttering off, bit by bit, like ashes into the wind. And he never saw it coming.

Cinematically, I am amazed at how much this resembled another defeat scene. It reminded me of the end of "The Passion of the Christ," as Jesus dies on the Cross and the soldiers flee in the face of the subsequent earthquake. There is a moment when we are shown the Satan figure, screaming and pained, as he/she realizes that Jesus has defeated him/her through the completion of His perfect sacrifice.

He never saw it coming.

There was no way that Evil could be defeated without evil being employed, was there? Therefore, the Devil could not recognize the perfect obedience by which Jesus' sacrifice of love destroyed sin and death and redeemed mankind.

Another similar death occurs at the end of The Matrix epic, as Neo finally confronts Agent Smith, alone in the world, surrounded by those whom Smith had conquered. Neo stops fighting, stops struggling, and he allows Smith to take him. In doing so, Smith is destroyed from within by the sacrifice of "the One." As he finally realizes that he has been defeated - not in the "usual" way, but through this sacrifice - he is incredulous. He is destroyed, as is his power over those others whom he had possessed. Another aerial shot shows the central defeat of Smith and a rippling out of that effect as each individual possessed is released.

The parallel here is Christ (well, not for the "Passion," since that was actually about Christ!). Harry first had to experience the death that Evil brings before he could liberate the world from its effects for good. Neo had to be absorbed by the power of evil before he could release others from that. This is what Saint Paul calls the "firstfruits of our redemption" or the "first-born of the dead." Jesus goes first, and His obedient sacrifice is the model upon which any Christian life and vocation is based - complete, self-less, submissive self-gift.

Why did not Harry use the ever-effective "avada kedavra" curse on Lord You-Know-Who? Because he didn't have to. If Harry had learned anything in his years at Hogwarts it's that love is the oldest and most effective magic there is. Voldemort never saw it coming.

Where Are You Going This Year?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 14:06:00 +0000

It is I who must begin. ...

Once I begin, once I try -
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying that things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
- to live in harmony
with the "voice of Being" as I
understand it within myself
- as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out
upon that road. ...

Whether all is truly lost
or not depends entirely on
whether or not I am lost. ...

- Vaclav Havel

A New Beginning - I Hope It Never Ends!

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 02:19:00 +0000

Good day! And welcome to 2012!

My resolution: to, hopefully, be able to blog here more frequently than I have been. Lord, I hope that the world doesn't start ending on me!

The Gift We Celebrate

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 13:43:00 +0000

Two good friends of mine married yesterday, and I was blessed to witness it. Here's my homily for them.

“On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”

Now, I am sure that Matt and Casey would certainly appreciate gifts of geese-a-laying, golden rings, calling birds, French hens, turtle doves and even a partridge in a pear tree; however, that is not why we are here on this sixth day of Christmas.

We are here, though, to celebrate a gift, given by true love.

When Casey and Matt first met with me about this wonderful day, I asked them about the engagement. “How did you propose?” I asked Matt. And while he explained the whole sequence of events in vivid detail, Cassandra sat and grinned. Matt told me how he carried the engagement ring around and knew that he had something that did not belong to him – something that had to be given away – and given to a specific person. But that ring is not the gift we celebrate.

The gift is what that ring – and these rings – represent. It’s his heart. It’s her heart. It’s their very selves. And it is a gift that has been given to them by Someone else.

At their baptisms, Casey and Matt received the life of God – the love of God – into their lives. From that moment, God gave Himself to them and He called them. That call to holiness, that vocation, for each of them was unique, but today, we celebrate the fact that this call involved each other – that they were made for each other. And this is the gift we celebrate.

Our first reading today (Tobit 8:4b-8), chosen by Casey and Matt, shows us a good beginning. Sarah and Tobiah are together on their wedding night. And, the first thing they do together is pray – they ask God to be an integral part of their marriage, as He had been an integral part of their lives thus far. When Matt told me of the proposal, and of Cassandra’s joyful acceptance, he said that they decided to find a statue of Mary and to pray together. This is the foundation of any Christian life – even when that life is shared with another. Guys, remember this. Remember that you have one another to rely on and God to strengthen that reliance.

Cassandra said that they wanted today’s celebration to have a definite tone – that of service, which is the heart of any vocation. Our gospel (John 13:1-15) certainly relates that tone. Jesus, who is aware of all that he has been given by the Father –all of his gifts –, shows us what we are to do with those gifts. Out of the love he has for the Father, and out of the love he has for us, he kneels, and he serves.

Casey and Matt, look around you. This church is filled with those who have been gifting you your entire lives. Family, friends, all of us, have taught you the lessons of love, and because of this you can fully love one another. But Jesus gives you the ultimate lesson. To truly love in the Christian sense, we must give ourselves completely – nothing held back –even to the point of giving our lives for others.

And this is the real gift of this day. God has given you the gift of True Love; Jesus has shown how that love is lived out; and now you have the privilege of living that love together – for the rest of your lives.

We celebrate this gift in the context of Mass, where we are given God’s greatest gift: Jesus in the Eucharist. Here, we experience the fullest expression of love poured out for our benefit and for our example. Jesus’ last words to us today in the gospel remind us that his example of service is not just a “show” for us to watch, but an example to be followed, a life to be lived.

This is the life of discipleship; it is the life of vocation; yes, it is the life of marriage. You will not only support one another out of love for each other, but you will be a sign – a sacrament – to us all, reminding us of that greatest Gift – the love of God.

It’s a better deal than those geese-a-laying, I can assure you!

My Blog Christmas Card

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 20:13:00 +0000

So, what do you do with your Christmas cards after the holidays?

Have a very Merry Christmastime and a joyful and blessed New Year!

- Fr. Austin

You Can't "Steal" Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 17:36:00 +0000

When the Grinch "stole" Christmas he believed he had pulled off the coup of his life. Finally, he did not have to deal with that obnoxious singing, their tar-tinkers, jing-tinglers and gardinkers. He had won his "war on Christmas."

Or so it seemed.

However, on Christmas morning, even without the presents, candy canes and trees, every Who down in Who-Ville, the tall and the small, gathered in the square and sang - welcoming Christmas. A shocked Grinch could not believe what he was hearing, and in the midst of that simple, joy-filled song of a people who know that Christmas was more than an outward show, the grumpy, green Grinch felt his heart well up with that same spirit that brought the Whos out to the square that morning. And, in the line of those like Ebeneezer Scrooge, he knew how to keep Christmas from then on.

Today, many often lament the "war on Christmas" - with secular demands for a "happy holiday" rather than "Merry Christmas." We see how the celebration of the birth of the Lord has become simply an opportunity for Macy's to gain customers and Justin Bieber to sell albums, and we complain. "Let's keep Christ in Christmas!" "Jesus is the reason for the season!"

Certainly true. But the flip side of this grousing is that we can sometimes use "Merry Christmas" as an assault on others - a missile fired off in this "war on Christmas" from our end. Christians can look around and see where we are being pushed to the margins in an increasingly secular society. It's persecution, yes. But who else is persecuted?

Those who are different: the foreigner, the gay, the Muslim.

Those who are afflicted: the alcoholic, the addict, the sinner.

Those who are in need: the unborn, the elderly, the sick.

I know of a man who willingly associated with these folks. He was persecuted too. Maybe this is just where the Church needs to be in order to more faithfully identify with those most in need of God's mercy and love. If we cannot, then we have lost the "war."

Instead, we are called to gather in the square - even without the outward show of the lights, signs, greetings, bum-gumblers, zoo-zither-parkays. There, we can sing the simple song of welcome to the One who comes into the world in a stable, because there was no room in any place of comfort. And yet, there in the manger, the greatest joy to the world was first proclaimed.

Social Media Nativity

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 03:10:00 +0000

What would that first Christmas have been like if Facebook existed then? Here is a fantastic attempt to answer that question.

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 16:08:00 +0000

Just to let you know, I'm still around - just really busy. Here's some fun to enjoy until I'm back...

Vincent van Gogh to Disney World.

Be the Change

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 14:19:00 +0000

I enjoy things done well. There is a reflection of God in a sense of order and creativity. Following YouTube trends, I was directed to a cute video of "Marcel the Shell with Shoes on." From there, I found a related video of a girl who imitated Marcel's voice - which itself is cute, but not original. However, the girl, Molly Watkins, also has done here own original videos that I think are great. Here is her video that drove me to post now. The message is clear - and very, very good.

Let's dream of peace together.

Dobby and Personhood

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 02:47:00 +0000

Where does "personhood" come from?

The plight of Dobby the house elf can serve to illustrate the common attitudes around this sensitive question. Dobby was the house elf who "belonged" to the Malfoy family. As such, he was treated poorly - even abused - because as a house elf, his value was only seen in his utility to the family. He was inhuman, unworthy of affection and totally disassociated with any sense of dignity. We see this in his surprise at how well Harry treats him in speaking with him at their first meeting and in Hermione's care and concern for the ordeal of the other elves.

The Malfoy's rejection of Dobby's dignity is akin to a societal prejudice against those who count for nothing - the poorest, the "rejects," the prisoners, the elderly, the unborn. Their personhood is often seen as an inconvenience, rather than an inherent part of their being. An unborn child is a "fetus" until a parent ascribes a value to it as a child who is "wanted." A man in a nursing home or hospital is seen more as a patient occupying a bed, rather than a person with infinite beauty and worth. A prisoner is seen first as a miscreant who has lost all claim to the dreams of any man, rather than a soul marked still by the touch of God.

Harry provides a "salvific" role for Dobby by providing a way out of his servitude. He always saw Dobby as an individual of worth, and at last, in the end, he is able to die "a free elf." Personhood is not a matter of "desert" or "earning it." Rather, it comes from the gift of God, freely given, for no other reason than His infinite love.

Paradigm Shift

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 00:10:00 +0000

America Magazine wrote:

On Aug. 24 Steve Jobs announced his resignation as the chief executive officer of Apple Inc., which he co-founded in the 1970s. Much laudatory commentary followed. Mr. Jobs changed the world of movies and music and books. He did not supply new plots and images but changed how the people watched what they wanted to see. He did not compose new tunes and lyrics but changed how the world received, stored and played music. He did not write new books but changed how the world read and kept and reread those books. The entrenched music and publishing industries felt threatened and resisted but eventually came around, seeing that Mr. Jobs was ultimately working with them.

“Mr. Jobs did not so much see around corners; he saw things in plain sight that others did not,” wrote David Carr in The New York Times. Steve Jobs saw what modern people wanted before they knew they wanted it. And he knew how to make it available and attractive. The Apple store on Fifth Avenue in New York is open 24 hours a day.

One hears that young people want what the church has to offer, but they cannot find it in that church. The delivery system fails. Imagine a Bishop Steve Jobs. What would his diocese—the Diocese of Appleton, perhaps—look like? How would entrenched interests react to his challenge? What is out there in plain sight that he would see and point out to fellow church leaders? How would he change not the message, not the content, not the words but the delivery system? The human side of the church could use the energy of new vision.

The message is fine. How will we deliver it?

Sinner - a Review

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 14:17:00 +0000

They say that you can't judge a book by its cover. However, in the case of Lino Rulli's Sinner, you probably can.

The cover presents, stark white, with the word "sinner" at the top and a pencil line drawn into an arrow, pointing at the man responsible for the work - an oddly ebullient Rulli, who seems way to excited to be tagged with that title.

But that is just what this book is about. In Lino's own words, it's a book about him - a sinner - a "Catholic Guy" who knows his faith but struggles everywhere and all the time to live his faith right. More often than not, he fails. Hence, the title. He's a Sinner.

And so are we.

Saint Augustine piously struggled with sin in the fifth century in his classic, Confessions, where he detailed his journey from depravity and perdition to Catholicism and holiness. Yet, he never lost his sense of himself in need of God's loving mercy. Like Lino, Augustine didn't shy away from showing his "dirty" side, although that side might not be as dirty as a voyeuristic reader might want (really, Augustine? You stole pears, and that's what bugged you the most?). The point of the tales is what we know already: sin is fun - that's why we do it. It doesn't lead anywhere pleasant, but sin has to be attractive, otherwise there's no need for Confessions, and Rulli's book would be entitled Stuff I Did to Please God.

I purchased a new car this past April, and with it came a free trial of Sirius XM satellite radio. I discovered the Catholic Channel (Sirius 129), and have been hooked on Rulli's show for my drive home from the vocations office every day. Lino will remind many people (and particularly priests) of that friend they have who always questions stuff, gives you a hard time about this or that rule or point, but in the end is a really decent guy. This comes across in Sinner as well.

Lino is no St. Augustine, but this is probably only due to a lack of a pear tree. The struggles that he presents are as timeless (albeit in this modern milieu) as those that Augustine has given us over the past 1,600 years. I write this review mainly because I think that the stories he tells in the book (each one is about three-to-five pages, on average) are great fodder for youth group discussions. If I was Oprah (and, thank God, I am not) this would be part of my book club. Consider a few of his many tales from his life:

Lino's dad announces that he is quitting his job and becoming an organ grinder; or how he desperately tried to become a writer for David Letterman's show; both of which Lino uses to describe how to (at least try to) discern and follow the will of God.
a few tales of how he experienced confession at various points in his life
his own fear of commitment and God's full commitment to us
celebrity and sainthood, and how hard it is to choose the latter (there is a story in that chapter about meeting Sammy Hagar in a bar on spring break that I literally laughed out loud to)
visiting an Italian (read, topless) beach, pornography, and the theology of the body.

There are many more. Each of these would make fantastic conversation-starters for high school youth groups - and even adults, who might find other spiritual reading too unrealistically pious. Rulli makes the struggle believable because he is honest and authentic. And that's what we need. Yes, the super-pious devotional reading is powerful and helpful, but the whole point of Sinner is to recognize that before we are saints, we struggle - we are sinners.

This is a fast read and well-deserving of its place atop Amazon's best-sellers lists. I recommend it to all my friends, and I don't have to worry about their "oh-here-father-goes-again" reactions. Just read it.

I hate sin.

But I loved Sinner.

"Noooooo!"

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 09:35:00 +0000

Anyone who has read this blog in depth knows I am a huge Star Wars geek. I love the movies, and they have provided a cinematic backdrop for most of my life. Also, I have not been a huge critic of George Lucas' decisions to add scenes and effects to the original trilogy because he had discovered new technology to do so. This coming week, the Lucasfilm empire will release a long-awaited Blu Ray set of all six movies, and in true Lucas fashion, the films will present some more "changes."

Again, I don't really care what George Lucas does (Darth Vader could sing "Thank God I'm a Country Boy," as far as I'm concerned). I do, however, have a problem with things he may have said. In 1988, Lucas (along with pal Steven Spielberg) testified against those who would colorize classic films to make them more "modern." Here's what he said then:

A copyright is held in trust by its owner until it ultimately reverts to public domain. American works of art belong to the American public; they are part of our cultural history.

People who alter or destroy works of art and our cultural heritage for profit or as an exercise of power are barbarians, and if the laws of the United States continue to condone this behavior, history will surely classify us as a barbaric society. The preservation of our cultural heritage may not seem to be as politically sensitive an issue as "when life begins" or "when it should be appropriately terminated," but it is important because it goes to the heart of what sets mankind apart. Creative expression is at the core of our humanness. Art is a distinctly human endeavor. We must have respect for it if we are to have any respect for the human race.

These current defacements are just the beginning. Today, engineers with their computers can add color to black-and-white movies, change the soundtrack, speed up the pace, and add or subtract material to the philosophical tastes of the copyright holder. Tomorrow, more advanced technology will be able to replace actors with "fresher faces," or alter dialogue and change the movement of the actor's lips to match. It will soon be possible to create a new "original" negative with whatever changes or alterations the copyright holder of the moment desires. The copyright holders, so far, have not been completely diligent in preserving the original negatives of films they control. In order to reconstruct old negatives, many archivists have had to go to Eastern bloc countries where American films have been better preserved.

In the future it will become even easier for old negatives to become lost and be "replaced" by new altered negatives. This would be a great loss to our society. Our cultural history must not be allowed to be rewritten.

The public's interest is ultimately dominant over all other interests. And the proof of that is that even a copyright law only permits the creators and their estate a limited amount of time to enjoy the economic fruits of that work.

In light of what he says, what he does seems rather disingenuous. However, I am willing to leave Hollywood to its hypocrisy. What bugs me more is his quote there. He places a crusade to save "cultural treasures" up with the fight to preserve human life. The arguments for respecting life from womb to tomb, then, take on a sidebar character to his self-interest of promoting film. Here, we see the same hubris that led the Israelites to build a golden calf and worship it, the same attitudes that was condemned over and over by the prophets against those peoples oppressing Israel, and the same hypocrisy that Jesus outed when folks puffed up the Temple over the needs of those around them.

If I could see life respected in all its dignity - be it in the womb, in the streets, in prison, in a nursing home or hospital - I would gladly give up my mint-condition Boba Fett action figure (with grappling hook backpack!). But with attitudes like this (and the apparent insincerity of them anyway), the Fett-man seems safe on my shelf.