There are no uneducated men

G.K. Chesterton, in an essay called "What is Right with the World?":

And so, sincerely speaking, there are no uneducated men. They may escape the trivial examinations, but not the tremendous examinations of existence. The dependence of infancy, the enjoyment of animals, the love of woman and the fear of death -- these are more frightful and more fixed than all conceivable forms of the cultivation of the mind. It is idle to complain of schools and colleges being trivial. In no case will a college ever teach the important things. He has learnt them right or wrong, and he has learnt them all alone.

What does 2000 Look Like?

Without being graphic, this helps put into perspective the nearly 2000 U.S. deaths in Iraq since the beginning of the war. And don't forget that this is just a fraction of the number of dead Iraqi civilians, who had no more to do with terrorism than you or I. Those who argue that the war is justified on the grounds that it will save more lives than it cost should pay special attention. They are comparing real deaths to theoretical ones; so they had better be sure of their theory.

Father Rags

An ad for the New Oxford Review (a Catholic journal admirably high on orthodoxy, if grievously short on charity) satirizes the liturgical nightmares of some parishes. The ad is rather funny--but only from the outside. I was stuck in such a parish once, and can testify that it's nowhere near as funny from within.

I studied in England for a year, and lived on campus at the university. The nearest Catholic church (so far as I knew) was in Brighton, several train-stops away, so I attended the mass at the school chapel. The priest, who went by "Father Rags" (his first name was Raglan), made up his own creed each week. Typically, it boiled down to "I believe in Karl Marx, maker of justice and peace". If it mentioned God, it was only in passing. Here's a sample from a mass sheet that my wife saved, dated 3rd March 1996:

WE BELIEVE in a community that opens its doors to people who flee war, hunger and poverty in search of a better life.
WE BELIEVE in the power of love, not the power of violence.
WE BELIEVE that we are called to share our lives so as to free each other from poverty, racism, and oppression of all kinds.
WE BELIEVE that the resources of the earth are to be shared among all people - not just the few.
WE BELIEVE in a community that has as a priority a response to those who are denied basic human rights and dignity.
WE REJECT a world where people are denied access to warmth, food, shelter and right [sic] to live in peace.
WE WANT to believe in justice, in goodness and in people.
WE BELIEVE we are called to a life of freedom, of service, of witness, of hope.
WE REJECT the idea that nothing can be done.
WE BELIEVE that a time will come when all people will share in the richness of our world, and that all people will be truly loved and respected.
WE COMMIT OURSELVES in the name of God who created the world for all to share, of Christ who leads us to freedom, and of the Spirit who calls us to action.
TODAY WE COMMIT OURSELVES to work together to make this belief a reality.

The same mass included a replacement of the Penitential Rite, featuring quotes from Euripides ("there is no sorrow above the loss of a native land"); Aeschylus ("everyone is quick to blame the alien"); and Cardinal Roger Etchegaray ("tell me how you receive a refugee and I will tell you who you are"). It ended with the recitation of "an old Celtic rune of hospitality".

Of course, there was no Latin--but not for any wish to keep it understandable to the crowd. The entrance hymn was in, I think, an African language ("Si ya-hamba'eku-kha-nyen'kwne-khos"), while the psalm was in Spanish. Actually it wasn't a psalm, but rather a hymn based on the story of Abraham being called from his home to Israel. We needed to stay on the refugee theme, I guess.

Speaking of hymns: the music was always the most inane, folksy tripe you can imagine--An Almighty Wind, if you will. The local favorite was "Our God Reigns", sung with much gusto, but with an intonation that felt like we were comparing "Our God" to someone else's. The refrain may just as well have said "our God reigns, our God rules, our God kicks your god's #$$, our God reigns!"

Father Rags adored ecumenical outreach. Once, he invited an Anglican priest and a Jewish rabbi to co-celebrate the mass with him. They both received communion and then helped distribute it. Actually, it was the Anglican who performed the Eucharistic Prayer. So at least they didn't take the real Body of Christ (as at least the Rabbi knew, since he didn't refuse it!). I wonder, should I have confessed missing mass that Sunday, since I never did attend a real one?

Another day, Fr. Rags was feeling a bit down about some orthodox Vatican pronouncement. After mass, he told a group of us that he often dreamed of starting his own religion. I think he was well on his way.

(Thanks to JB for the link to the NOR ad that brought back all these memories!)

What a gift!

Last night before going to bed, E told her mom that she wanted to have a funny dream. Well, around 5:30 am, I heard her laughing hysterically from her bedroom. Sure enough, she was still asleep. She giggled for at least 15 minutes, and ended up waking her sister and her mom--but not herself.

When she finally woke up for school, she told me that she just pictured the funny dream before bed, then fell asleep and dreamt it. What an incredible skill. I wish I could do that!

For the record, she dreamt of mischievous sheep who built some jetpacks, escaped from their wicked farmer to New York City (although they considered going to Paris), and landed on top of the Empire State Building, from which they parachuted to the ground. Hilarious highjinx, I'm sure you'll agree.

St Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is dispair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Though not actually written by St Francis, this prayer captures the paradoxical nature of his life. In honor of his feast day, I just finished a book on St Francis by G.K. Chesterton (himself perhaps the world champion of paradox). As always with Chesterton, it is beautifully written. Every page contains at least one passage worthy of quote. For example:

"The mystic who passes through the moment when there is nothing but God does in some sense behold the beginingless beginnings in in which there was really nothing else. He not only appreciates everything but the nothing of which everything was made."

Or,

"I have said that St Francis deliberately did not see the wood for the trees. It is even more true that he deliberately did not see the mob for the men."

And I couldn't help but chuckle at this understatement:

"St. Simeon Stylites on the top of his pillar was in one sense an exceedingly public character; but there was something a little singular in his situation for all that."

Unfortunately, the book is more interpretation than biography. It assumes a greater knowledge than I have of the details of St Francis's life. Funny, he says he wrote it for the "ordinary outsider and enquirer". Apparently, such an outsider in 1923 could be expected to know vastly more about this Saint than your typical Catholic knows today. I think I'll enjoy Chesterton's analysis a lot more if I read an actual biography first.

I'll close with a poem, almost a pslam, that actually was written by the saint. Some say it's the first piece of Italian literature.

Canticle of Brother Sun

Most high, almighty, and good Lord,
Yours is the praise, the glory, honor, blessing all.
To you, Most High, alone of right they do belong,
And no mortal man is fit to mention you.

Be praised, my Lord, of all your creature world,
And first of all Sir Brother Sun,
Who brings the day, and light you give to us through him,
And beautiful is he, agleam with mighty splendor:
Of you, Most High, he gives us indication.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sisters Moon and Stars:
In the heavens you have formed them,
bright and fair and precious.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
Through Air, and cloudy, clear, and every kind of Weather,
By whom you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Water,
For greatly useful, lowly, precious, chaste is she.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night,
And fair he is, and gay, and vigorous, and strong.

Be praised, O Lord, through our sister Mother Earth,
For she sustains and guides our life,
And yields us diverse fruits, with colored flowers, and grass.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who pardon give for love of you,
And bear infirmity and tribulation:
Blessed they who suffer it in peace,
For of you, Most High, they shall be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Brother Death of Body,
From whom no one among the living can escape.
Woe to those who in mortal sins will die;
Blessed those whom he will find in your most holy graces,
For the second death will do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and thank him too,
And serve him all, in great humility.