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Oh, this book. I have a thousand thoughts swimming around in my head about it.
First, let me say, I am glad I read this book. It’s not necessarily a feel good book and I spent most of the book a tad depressed. Yet, the story telling is excellent.
This is a story set in 1930s Mexico during the Catholic persecutions which gave rise to the Cristeros.
The story follows a “whisky priest” (you never know his name) as he tries to evade authorities. He’s such an interesting character because he isn’t a good man or priest, but he isn’t evil either. He’s a priest that has given himself over to vice (he drinks and has a child), yet you don’t dislike him.
He’s a bad priest and he knows it; he knows he’s unworthy to hear confessions and hold Mass and, yet, something in him hangs on to his calling.
Graham Greene the author was Catholic and he was not, I mean was not, a good practicing Catholic. He abandoned his wife and struggled with fornication and substance abuse, so I have to believe there is a bit of himself written into the character of the priest. With all that said, he gets the Catholic Faith. He writes it so well—the vice, the virtue, human frailty, redemption, hope, and suffering.
I don’t want to spoil the ending, so I won’t say much more. It is a book I would recommend, but to caution for sensitive souls, there is a scene where the priest is in a tightly-packed dark jail cell and a couple is being scandalous by engaging in sexual acts. It’s not overly depicted, but the author makes it clear what it is happening.
My favorite line from the books is: “He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted - to be a saint.”
How true that is, Catholic Pilgrims. May we always keep that at the forefront of our mind.
P.S. I did a bonus episode in my podcast where I read a short story by Graham Greene called “The Hint of an Explanation.” It’s all about the Eucharist. You can listen here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/journeying-with-the-saints/id1602865917?i=1000645856665
Throughout all my life, I have struggled with pride. In my late teens and all through my twenties, I thought that I could make the Christian faith what I wanted it to be. Essentially, this meant that it became so easy that it barely factored into my life. Yes, I called myself a Christian, but I thought: That church was optional. Prayer only mattered when I wanted something. Scripture was around for the virtue signal. I wasn't Catholic during those years, so Sacraments mattered nothing to me. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a Sacrament. I lived how I wanted to live, because...well, Jesus loved me and most decent people went to Heaven. Since I was at least decent, I was assured my angel wings. Crazy how I once believed humans became angels upon death. I didn't even understand that we are fundamentally different beings. Anyway... I had no humility. Zero. By the grace of God, I woke up. I'm not perfect at all, but I did realize that our Catholic Faith cannot conform around me. When my pride pulls me to the ways of the world or towards my will, I must resist. Throughout all these years on social media, I have seen the pride that I once had in the comments. There are still so many people who think they can pick and choose what to believe; that they can conform Christianity to their desires and wills. St. Paul talks today about how Jesus emptied Himself and took the form of a slave, not counting equality with God, even though He is God. God humbled Himself to save us and I think we often forget that. When we bow at the mentioning of the Incarnation in the Nicene Creed, we are acknowledging the humility of God, that He would come as one of us. We bow out of respect for counting us worthy of saving in this way. If our God can be so humble, it is imperative that we humble ourselves and submit our will to God and His Church, Catholic Pilgrims. Have a blessed Sunday.
Continue ReadingMy philosophy class at K-State was not so much a philosophy class as it was a Liberal Ideology 101 class. Most of the time was spent having various liberal groups on campus come in and try to persuade us to their side. It was very irritating, because that was not what I signed up for. It caused the professor and me to not be on friendly terms. He punished me, of course, by giving me bad grades and calling me out in class, but I really didn't care. I was the only one in class that ever spoke up and tried to debate against the messages that we were being force fed. It was a very isolating feeling because it felt like me against the world. Yet, it never failed that after each class, other students would come up to me and thank me for speaking up and they would tell me that they agreed with me. They were just too nervous to speak up. However, if I had to be the only one, though, so be it. I learned through that class that speaking the truth can be scary sometimes. You will be punished. You will be hated. Sometimes it will seem like you are all by yourself on an island. But, there are hordes behind you that just aren't as vocal. Here we are 25 years after 9/11 and, for a short period after, we were so united as a country. Suffering often does that, as crazy as that is. Which is why, I think the forces against this country saw that they needed to get to work right away causing division, because that fateful day made us come together in a way I've never seen in my lifetime. Those opposed to us panicked and set to work immediately to try to break the bond that had been created in Americans that actually love this country. They have succeeded in some ways, because we are fractured. All the noise makes us despair and feel hopeless, like all is lost. Yet, praying about this yesterday, I realized that the loudmouths will always seem like they are winning the day and maybe in some areas they are. But there are, also, sane, solo voices out there and behind them are hordes of sane, loyal, patriotic people who just aren't as vocal. Just like in my philosophy class. The loudmouths will always get more attention and make things seem skewed, just like my class. In honor of those that lost their lives on 9/11, may we live our lives with courage, virtue, honor, intelligence, loyalty and faithfulness. Not all is lost. We will never forget. God bless America.
Continue ReadingThis was probably the coolest picture that was sent to me for the small-town showcase back in February. It's also probably the most remote church. It doesn't even really sit in a town, from what I can tell. Mt. Carmel Catholic Church is in North Dakota and it sits nearly on the border of the US and Canada. Information is hard to find on this church, but it looks like it was dedicated and completed in 1953. It also looks to be not in use anymore because of structural concerns, though there is a historical society fighting for its preservation. I've never been to North Dakota, but last year I read a book called, "Giants of the Earth" and I gained a new appreciation for the pioneers that settled in the Dakotas. It took a special kind of person to brave that part of the country and try to tame it. I'm not sure I'm that special kind of person. I can handle Kansas winters, but I'm pretty sure I'd wimp out if I was enduring a North Dakota winter. I'd say if you are ever up at the tippity-top of the country stop in, but I don't think that's possible anymore. It's kind of out there and not operational. I do hope that the historical society is able to find a way to preserve this building. It's an important part of our country's history. Have a great day, Catholic Pilgrims, and live the faith boldly and travel well.
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