Thoughts on the Vicissitudes of Michael Voris & Co. UPDATED

Actually, I have none. Really. I mean stuff like this happens all the time to me. I’m a father of three children and they are all the time doing stuff that a) I don’t know about; b) I don’t approve of; and c) that I didn’t teach them to do. Guess what? I love them anyway.

Is it scandalous? Only if he lets pride lead him by the nose. Is it embarrassing? You betcha. A dad knows, and a mom does too. I mean, if I had a nickel for every time my kids did something to disappoint me, I’d be a rich man. Of course, I’d be a lonely, Silas Marner, scrooge of a misanthropic man, no doubt. You know, the kind who never wanted children in the first place. But I’d probably think I was well off materially, of course. But spiritually? I’d be a wreck without them in my life.

Nope. You can’t run from the Cross, neither as parents nor as presidents of your own non-profit/for-profit, gig. You have to weather the vicissitudes of life, because ready or not, here they come. I suspect that things will get tightened up in the departments that have been lax, and I’m just as sure that eventually something new will rise up to take their place to harry him. I mean, I know this: it’s non-stop for me.

That’s why the saints teach us to be humble and to pray. It’s also why humility is the virtue that has the most telling effect on those with whom we interact with in our life as Christians. It very much explains why the “pitchfork and torches” or “drawn swords” modus operandi is generally a non-starter in the work of winning souls to Christ.

Deacon Greg Kandra, Elizabeth Scalia , and Mark Shea all have something to say on this news anyway (or will soon). I’ll just go back to trying to figure out what kind of bird this is. Help me out if you can.

UPDATE: The bird has been identified! Thanks Ramona.

UPDATE II:  Mark Shea’s charitable post today.

UPDATE III: From Madrid, Michael Voris responds.

UPDATE IV: What Should Michael Voris learn from this?

Recognizing Grace in a Manual Transmission

Source: Tennen-Gas

This past week, I’ve been on vacation. Actually, it’s been a “stay-cation,” with me working on little projects around the house. The repairs to our home after the hail damage (from the storms back in April) needed to be managed as well. And then there was my car.
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Would You Believe for the Fallible Facepalm?

So we were driving to Mass this past Sunday, like we’ve done every Sunday since forever. Listening to the radio, with the kids riding in the back, something prompted my wife and I to start naming off the Seven Sacraments.

We named six of them pretty quickly, especially Matrimony, which I had just been discussing as we pulled out of the driveway. Baptism, my wife called out. Check! Confession, or Reconciliation was called out. Check! Holy Orders. Check! Anointing of the Sick. Check! And then we ran over the list again.

“What’s missing kids?”, I asked while piloting us on to our destination. We ran through the the short list of the Sacraments we had named so far and noted we had come up with five. My wife chimed in with Confirmation as number six. I gave the kids a pass on that one, as none of them have reached the age for Confirmation yet.

I’m really embarrassed to say that for a number of minutes, maybe 3-5(!) we were having trouble coming up with the seventh Sacrament. My wife, the cradle Catholic, and I ran through the list, aloud, and counting on our fingers the Sacraments we had enumerated so far. And then, after driving under the overpass after exiting the freeway, the missing Sacrament hit me like a ton of bricks. “The Blessed Sacrament, the Eucharist!” I exclaimed doing a face palm while stopped at a red light.

Actually, I called it a “face plant,” but my oldest son corrected me by saying, “Dad, that’s what happens when you fall on your face in front of everybody.” Of course, that is what I did, but even if he didn’t realize he was being merciful, I took it gladly and said, “I meant facepalm,” and I did my best impersonation of Captain Picard’s version you see above.

The memory of the scene haunted me for the rest of the drive to our parish. I was thinking, how could you forget the Body and Blood of your Lord and Savior? The “source and summit of the Christian life,” Frank, in case you forgot. There I was, quizzing the kids on why when Catholics get married, we do so in the Church and with a Mass. “So Jesus will be present to bless your union.” And yet, here I was forgetting his Real Presence in the Sacrament that we celebrate at Mass every Sunday, and every day for that matter?

Photo credit: Michael Belk

The memory of this episode came welling up in my mind again this morning when I came across a blog post about how some Catholics have an aversion to remembering Jesus, and the central place He has in our Faith. It feels weird even writing that, because it is so obvious, as Mary Kochan makes it plain in her post.

But given that even I was at a loss for a bit, the episode above leaves me sympathizing with those who sometimes can’t see the forest for the trees. Or in the case of the Vine, sometimes we get lost among the branches. Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. His mother points us to Him, as do all the saints. The Mass is all about Him, as is the liturgy. He died for our sins, and showers us with His grace. And, ahem…He instituted the seven Sacraments.

Now, speaking of things I’ve misplaced in the last 5 minutes, has anyone seen my coffee mug?

Best. Photograph. Ever. The Incredibles in Action!

Credit: Mark Gormus/Richmond Times Dispatch

Ordinarily, this isn’t the kind of post I write. But this is no ordinary photograph. This is family, fun, baseball, hot dogs and apple pie. It’s also too good not to share. Life doesn’t end when you have children. It begins! And you have some cool people to share experiences with too.

FYI, Dad called the ball. Just sayin’. See the video clip at the link here.

To Train My Family to Pray, And Lead Them By Example

Joe Six-Pack, USMC here. Yesterday my family put into practice prayers that they learned a long time ago. You see, a line of storms was forecast to hit our area, and everyone took them seriously.

Wednesday nights are when many parishes hold their C.C.D. classes for the kids. That’s an abbreviation for Confraternity of Christian Doctrine classes. The teachers called the house and informed us that due to the weather forecasts, classes for tonight would be cancelled.

Remember when you were in school and classes were cancelled due to snow? That is the kind of jubilation that my kids reacted with when we received this news. Cart-wheels and high-fives all around! And then Joe Six-Pack crashed the party with, “Well, since C.C.D. is cancelled, we’ll be praying the Rosary tonight.” Dad can be such a killjoy at times, ’tis true.

Emeril!

But I’m a Dad, and I have always been a Christian Dad, the one who taught my children to pray the Our Father even when I knew it only as “the Lord’s Prayer.” And now that I’m a Catholic Dad? Well, I’m not quite the Emeril Lagasse of prayer, but I’ve definitely cranked it up another notch. Bam! Or as we say it around these parts (East Gallilee, er I mean Tennessee), Bhayum!

How scary was the weather? Well, let’s just say that my 15 year old son sent me a text before I headed home from work with the following words: “Be safe Daddy.” I don’t think he’s called me “Daddy” for three of four years now. Scary weather forecasts will do that to a kid, and even to an adult. “Abba” is “Daddy” as I recall, and Our Lord even pointed that out to the Apostles.

I texted him back that I would be fine, because it was early yet and the cells hadn’t arrived. When I got home, I noticed my wife had prepped some chicken drumsticks for grilling. So I did the only thing that a man could do: I put on my poncho and grilled them. A man has got to eat, and he has to feed his family. Pretty basic stuff, right? I even had a beer while I was cookin’. My motto is “one beer, per man, per day” and I don’t let the weather interrupt that. Ever.

Solid Oak!

So, we were finishing up our dinner, which we ate in the formal dining room because the kitchen table was covered with stuff from our pantry. Remember the stairs I built? Sheesh, that seems like a hundred years ago. They climb over the pantry below, and as I built them with oak treads, with nails, glue, and screws to boot, I know the safest place in the house is right underneath the stairs. The pantry, then, doubles as the stronghold of Casa del Weathers. My wife had made more room for us in case we needed to hit the stronghold. Smart woman! That’s why I married her.

As I was helping myself to another drumstick and more cheese mashed potatoes, I asked my youngest son to get me a beer. My daughter informed me that she had already gotten me a beer earlier and I said, “yes, but today I’ll have another, because “the Extreme” is thirsty tonight. See, we watched the movie Twister a few weeks back to prepare for Spring. I had joked about being “the Extreme” while I was grillin’ too. “I betcha didn’t know your Dad was ‘the Extreme,'” I said, but she shot back “oh yes I do!” Then the phone rang, the CCD teacher called to scrub the mission for tonight, and the jubilation and high-fives reined supreme.

That is, until “the Extreme” said, “Well, since C.C.D. is cancelled, we’ll be praying the Rosary tonight.” The natives were not happy. But I outrank them, see, and when an extra hour gets freed up to practice our faith, I grab it. And then the first storm cell made it’s presence felt, and we headed into the strong-hold, just like in the movie Thunderheart. And trust me, hearts were thundering in the pantry at this point.

We didn’t have time to grab our rosaries, but after years of training, we didn’t need them. And that is the point of this post. In the Marines, we trained constantly in peace-time and during war-time. Training is non-stop; “it ain’t training, unless it’s raining.” And when we were in the pantry, the prayer training we had been practicing all these years, paid off. Did our prayers stop the storm? Stop tornadoes from ripping our house apart? I don’t know. Many who prayed lost their homes and businesses in Alabama.

No. The praying did what nothing else can do. It provided comfort and courage during the worst storms we have ever lived through. Did you see the news that some atheists are calling for atheist chaplains to minister to them in the military? I’m not sure what good that would do, or in what way they can be ministered to by atheist chaplains. “Worried are you? Here you go lad, read a little of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and be of good cheer.” Hmmm.

Here is what we did instead. In the stronghold, we held hands and we prayed the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be. And when the storm abated, we sang the Gloria and left our refuge. Twenty minutes later, we went right back in and did it all again. We even said the Nicene Creed, after I botched the Apostles Creed (rookie!). We sang the Gloria again though, which we all know by heart.

At one point, I noticed that my daughter had stopped praying with us. She started listening to the ruckus that was going on outside instead. I noted the signs of panic in her eyes, and her tears started flowing as her fears rose up. As the boys and my wife kept praying loudly, I reached for her hand and said,

“Honey, I need you to keep praying. We all need you to pray along with us.”

She squeezed my hand, and mentally and physically she backed away from the precipice of fear and panic, and joined the rest of us in saying our prayers. She had faith in me, see, just like she did when I helped her learn to swim in the deep end of the pool, or ride her bicycle without training wheels.

But the faith isn’t in me, but in the example I was setting. And she knows that now more than ever. Her faith, our faith, is in the Lord. And we cried out to Him in the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be. And no matter what happened that night to our property or our bodies, the importance of why we pray was apparent to her, and to all of us. We cried out to our Heavenly Daddy, “Abba Father!” because we need His compassion and peace when our courage is tried.

We were like the sleeping disciples who woke up on the boat in a storm on the Sea of Galilee (Mark 4:34-41). We cried out to the Lord, like they did, and our souls were comforted. I’m not going to go into much more detail. Suffice it to say, “you play the way you practice.” And when it comes to prayer, when you practice it during the peaceful times, and you or you children think it is a waste of time, or boring, and even pointless, keep at it.

Because when the trying times arrive, as they most certainly will, all that peacetime prayer training will pay off.

For Bernard of Clairvaux’s Bible Reading Program to Make Sense of the World

Back in October of last year, I shared thoughts written by a Doctor of the Church with you. It was from a homily St. Bernard of Clairvaux had written and preached to the brothers in his order about one of the books in the Old Testament. As I was re-reading the homily today, these words of truth leapt off the screen,

there are two evils that comprise the only, or at least the main, enemies of the soul: a misguided love of the world and an excessive love of self…

I named the post where these words can be found For Solid Food Like This (Hold the Milk). As posts of mine go, it was unread for the most part. Last week I suggested that we all could spend an extra hour a week reading the Bible. But Frank, you may be thinking, where do we start? I think St. Bernard might have an idea or two.

In that homily, which is on the title of The Song of Songs, he recommends two of my favorite books from the Old Testament to tackle: The Book of Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes.

Comparing these two books to loaves of rich bread, here is what he says to us about them in regard to his quote above,

These are two loaves of which it has been your pleasure to taste, loaves you have welcomed as coming from the cupboard of a friend.

Of course, he is addressing the brothers in the Cistercian order. As such, he is no longer talking to mere babes in Christ, but to soldiers of Christ. No longer folks who believe, but folks who have committed their whole life to Christ and His Church. And today, he is speaking then to Christians who are ready to take the training wheels off their bicycles and really begin to ride. But why these two particular books? Here’s what Doctor Mellifluus has to say,

The Book of Proverbs: Uproots pernicious habits of mind and body with the hoe of self-control.

Have we thrown self-control and self-discipline to the wayside? It appears that St. Bernard is describing the merits of this book as the first phase of recruit training to me. The process where we scrub off our old, worldly selves and become immersed in the culture of our new family. More than just a thought, where in our minds the light-bulb comes “on”, this book deals in concrete actions that teach us how to become practicing Christians and children of God. The military analogy that pops in my mind? Marines aren’t born, they’re made. The same is true for Christians. And what of the second book?

Ecclesiastes: by the use of enlightened reason, quickly perceives a delusive tinge in all that the world holds glorious, truly distinguishing between it and deeper truth. Moreover, it causes the fear of God and the observance of his commandments to be preferred to all human pursuits and worldly desires.

To me this is St. Bernard’s “know your enemy” book recommendation, comparable to Sun Tzu’s Art of War. The shocker to many is that the Church doesn’t discard the use of reason, but she embraces it. Many have thought, “Why is Ecclesiastes even in the Canon of Scriptures?” Because the Patriarchs deemed this inspired book’s merits far outweighed its demerits, and for the very reasons that St. Bernard cites above.

Qohelth describes the world as we know it. Writing as if he is King Solomon, “the Teacher” profiles all of the paths that people take in the world, and describes in pithy phrases the stark truth: all of these ways lead to dead-ends except one. Which is why the good Doctor can say this without batting an eye about these two books,

the former is the beginning of wisdom, the latter its culmination, for there is no true and consummate wisdom other than the avoidance of evil and the doing of good, no one can successfully shun evil without the fear of God, and no work is good without the observance of the commandments.

Tempted to skip these two books and head straight to the Song of Songs? I wouldn’t recommend it and neither does St. Bernard.

Taking it then these two evils have been warded off by the reading of choice books, we may suitably proceed with this holy and contemplative discourse which, as the fruit of the other two, may be delivered only to well prepared ears and minds.

In other words, don’t put the cart before the horse. Learn the fundamentals, and practice them constantly until they become second nature. No, I don’t have this completely “wired” yet and probably never will. But we have to start somewhere and practice, practice, practice.

The Book of Proverbs is pretty straight forward, and the notes in your Catholic Bible should have all the resources you need to understand it. Ecclesiastes may be a little more challenging, but there is a lot of information available to help you along with the writer’s, and thus the Holy Spirit’s, reasoning. As Our Lord says,

but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

Come to the well.

For the Psalms and Spring, Family and Sports

It is getting ready to be a very busy time for me and my family. That’s because Spring is just around the corner, and around my house this means our children’s sports teams will begin hitting the ground running.

Not everyone gets involved in such things as sports for their kids. Not every child enjoys organized soccer, or baseball, or softball, volley ball, basketball, horse riding, or any of the other myriad possibilities to turn your child’s attention to.

So why do we even bother in our household? Joy in living is the only real reason that I can think of. That and the realization that though our children’s gifts and abilities are out of our hands, they should still be developed. Besides, everything we spend time doing matters.

It is a tight-rope and certainly there is a fine line between the healthy reasons for involving our children in sports, and the unhealthy turning of sports into an idol. On the positive side, for example, our oldest son has played organized baseball for 8 years, since he was 7 years old. As it turns out, he is pretty good at this game. Honestly, he is ten times better at it than I ever was.

How did this happen? I really have no idea. It is nothing that I expected. And let me assure you, my wife never saw this coming either. But God saw it coming, and of that fact I have no doubt. He has decided that, through our children, He will take my wife and I places that we never intended to go on our own.

And there is the riddle of our son’s gift, for example. Though endowed with excellent hand-eye coordination, and having an arm that can accurately throw thunderbolts, the most important characteristic of all isn’t even a physical one. It is that my son simply loves this game. And this love for it drives him to do things that only love can make him do.

Like get up early for practice, and study hard to keep up his grades. And endure practices that look like something that the Marine Corps would endorse. Sure, it wasn’t like that when he was in little league. That was all fun, and that is also where the seeds of this love were planted. But now that he has made the high school team, the love for the game has been tested by the fires of hard work and sweat. There is a spiritual message in all of this somewhere, I am sure.

As an aside, one of the great things about being Catholic is that we have never missed a Mass because of baseball, or any other sports games of my children either. Blessed to live in a diocese with more than one parish, Our Lord has also seen fit to provide more than one Mass said at each parish during the weekend across our area. The only excuse for missing a Mass is sloth, and thankfully, that hasn’t ever occurred.

One day, my son’s baseball career will come to an end, as all good things generally do. And on that day, my career as a baseball dad will end too. Life will go on. But until that day comes, I’ll keep supporting my children in these endeavors.

Because in the end, unless you measure things crudely in only utilitarian and materialistic terms, the benefits of participation in sports (or other extracurricular activities) far outweigh the negatives. Especially when you acknowledge that these abilities and talents being developed are gifts from God, and not of our own making.

I teach my children, and pray that they will remember, gratitude for these truths sung by the Psalmist,

I praise you, so wonderfully you made me;
wonderful are your works!
My very self you knew;
my bones were not hidden from you,
When I was being made in secret,
fashioned as in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes foresaw my actions;
in your book all are written down;
my days were shaped, before one came to be.
How precious to me are your designs, O God;
how vast the sum of them!
Were I to count, they would outnumber the sands;
to finish, I would need eternity.

And also this Song of Ascents of David, which is well suited to keep the soul of an athlete grounded in humility,

Psalm 131

LORD, my heart is not proud;
nor are my eyes haughty.
I do not busy myself with great matters,
with things too sublime for me.
Rather, I have stilled my soul,
hushed it like a weaned child.
Like a weaned child on its mother’s lap,
so is my soul within me.

Israel, hope in the LORD,
now and forever.

Amen.

For Faith In Action: The March For Life (Part II)

Cold hands = warm hearts.*

Chapter 3: The Youth Mass for Life.

When the idea to come to the March for Life came over me (see embedded link above), I knew that I wanted to attend Mass before the march began. I remembered where the Wee Kirk on the Hill is, and I also remembered a few other parishes from our trip back in the summer. I went to the March for Life website and clicked on the Factsheet to see if anything was planned worship-wise.

There was a pre-march Youth Mass and Rally planned to begin at 10:00 at the Verizon Center, but I quickly found out that tickets for that event were “sold-out.” Maybe if I would have planned this trip two weeks ago, that might have been a possibility. But the idea to go on this trip was less than an hour old by the time I was looking, so the rally was a no-go. Thankfully, there were four other locations available as overflow facilities.

Three out of the four venues available were sold out too, so I clicked on the last available location, punched in a quantity of 5 and prayed that there were enough spots left for us. There were! I printed the tickets, and the trip picked up momentum from there. Being at the Youth Mass was important for 15, 11, and 9 reasons: those are the ages of my three children and I wanted them to be surrounded by other young people so they would know that this just isn’t some old fuddy-duddy Dad’s idea of something important. I wanted them to see that lot’s of kids were missing school for this important event as well, not just themselves.

And now here we all were, seated and waiting for Mass to begin in a sanctuary packed to capacity. There on the right hand side were a bunch of young men, who turned out to all be seminarians. We sat on the St. Joseph side of the sanctuary, with young men and women ahead of us, and behind us and this was mirrored over on the St. Mary side of the aisle as well. It was 1030, packed, and young people were still coming in by the bus load. The Mass started 15 minutes late so the latecomers and stragglers could make it in on time. This gave me a little time to think and to pray.

I thought to myself, It is entirely appropriate that we are sitting here in a church in Chinatown. Outside, next to the front entrance to the church, I had spied a sign written in Chinese that had Our Lady of China’s portrait on it. John C.H.Wu and Dom Lou Tseng-Tsiang must be smiling, I thought to myself. They were probably clucking their tongues at me for my worrying that we wouldn’t make it here on time. “Silly Grasshopper, oh ye of little faith.”

I remember several things from the Mass, the first of which is that we began it with the long form of the penitential rite as follows,

I confess to Almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do; and I ask the Blessed Mary, ever Virgin, all the angels and saints, and you my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Catholics believe that some forms of sin are graver than others, because frankly, this makes sense. Also, it says so in the Bible. But we also know that we are all sinners, and though we hate the sin, we love sinners, because Christ loved sinners too. So it is apropos that we acknowledged our sins before all present and to ask for their prayers for us as well. It always is appropriate.

Next, Our Lord, of course, was present in the Mass, as He always is. Sometimes I can slip into taking this for granted, but not today. He had eleven of His priests there as well, to concelebrate the Mass for His flock, and provide them with nourishment from Him. And at the Great Amen, all eleven of the priests chanted in unison,

Through Him, in Him, with Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor are yours Almighty Father, forever and ever.

And all of us in attendance chanted back, Amen.

It was a moment so beautiful that it made my eyes water. I thought to myself that even if we couldn’t have made it to the March later, being here now, for this Mass alone, was well worth the trip.

Spilling out into the streets!

The sanctuary reverberated as we prayed the Our Father together, and there was much joy as we exchanged the sign of Christ’s peace with one another. Several hundred of us united in Christian charity for the sanctity of human life. By the time the final blessing and dismissal came, Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, and our thunderous reply of, Thanks be to God! I thought how fitting to remember that in everything we do, we serve the King and His peoples.

It may have been freezing outside (it was!), but as the warmth of the Holy Spirit washed over us, it was like the little tongues of flame from Pentecost were there to follow us out into the cold and keep us warm. It was 1145. Time to take the Metro to the rally point on the Mall.

Chapter 4, the Mall and the March

Team Weathers with the CO.

After leaving the Mass, we walked back up to where we parked so we could get a few items before heading to the Chinatown Metro station. If it would have been Summertime, we could have just walked from Chinatown to the Mall. But as it was 20 some odd degrees, temperature wise, the Metro option was looking good. We knew where we were now, because during our vacation this past summer, we had eaten at a restaurant close to the Chinatown Metro station, a block away from where we stood now.

My wife remembered how to work the ticket machines too. As we were going down the escalator to the train, a bunch of college students carrying life affirming placards and signs were going up the escalator. I told my kids that they were either lost, or meeting some of their friends, because they were headed the wrong way. I don’t think they believed me. As we only had to go down one stop to Archives/Navy Memorial I started thinking about lunch ideas.

When we got off at our stop, it was 1215. Now, the rally at the assembly point was starting up, but I knew that the march itself didn’t begin until 1330, so it was time to have some lunch. My wife and I discussed going to the Old Post Office, where there are plenty of food vendors, or to a restaurant close by. Lots of our fellow Pro-Lifers were walking around and lining the streets already, so we started walking toward the Mall.

The Lovers, Picasso

The rally point for the March was near the National Gallery of Art, and as we neared it I recalled that there was a cafeteria underground between it and the Gallery of Modern Art. No one appeared to be heading towards the Gallery so, being the contrarian that I am, that is where we headed. The guards checked our bags and we were warm and inside, headed to bathrooms and then on to lunch. We even got to snap a few more photographs of some beautiful paintings again.

We took the elevator downstairs to where the shops and cafeteria were. I issued orders that the kids could order all they wanted, but that they would have to eat all they took. My oldest said, “wait, is this where we came that time and we all ordered too much?” And I said, “yes, this is where you guys broke me last summer. Be gentle this time!” And they were. We sat across from the water fall and noted other marchers that were also here for lunch. More than a few priests wearing their collars were evident as well.

Team Weathers at “chow.”

As my wife and I ate lunch I commented, “You know, it’s as if that whole trip last summer was a preparation for us coming here now. As if that was a reconnaissance or pathfinder mission just so we would be prepared for this trip.” She nodded in agreement and said, “It seems that way, doesn’t it. It’s a blessing that we knew where to eat, where the Metro stations are, and everything.” By now it was 1315, so we wrapped up our lunch, headed to bathrooms again (where we saw actual working phone booths!) and then ventured back out into the throng of peaceful protesters just like ourselves.

I love this guy!

There were people from all over the country, as well as from all over the world here. Why from the world? Pro-Life solidarity, I reckon. We saw German, Italian, and Irish flags for sure. We saw Orthodox Jews, Orthodox Christians, Episcopalians for Life, Lutherans for Life, and lots and lots of Catholics. I’m sure there were many other churches present as well. What I didn’t see were any Pro-Abortion supporters at all. Maybe it was too cold for them? I don’t know.

We even saw an Anarchist/Agnostic for Life though, which makes sense because if you think that being Pro-Life is only because of our religious beliefs, you don’t have your thinking cap on. I was Pro-Life long before I became a Catholic because killing babies can just never be justified. Not if you use your ability to think and reason. A humanism that feeds off of the deaths of other human beings is a Soylent Green type of future that I don’t find appealing at all.

For the rest of this post, I’ll let the pictures do the talking,

Peaceful warriors await!
Our Lady keeps her children warm.
A few hundred thousand people assembling on the Mall.
A few hundred thousand people listening to speeches.
If it’s this crowded when it’s cold, imagine if it was warm!
Pan camera a little more to the left…More peoples!
Team Weathers with the XO.
New Yorkers for Life!
The lead elements in the March.
A few hundred thousand people on Constitution Avenue.
Amidst the “slow moving party” on Pennsylvania Ave.
Standing room only so, let’s dance!
In Front of the Supreme Court.
The time? 1600. Time to head home after a successful mission.

We got back to the car, and got back on the road for the return trip home. I made it as the pilot all the way back to Roanoke. There, we refueled and I handed the tiller over to the XO. We arrived back home at midnight, safe and sound. 36 hours from the beginning to the end. A minor miracle in itself.

To God be the Glory!

* All photographs belong to the author.

Updates:


An Apology from the Baby Boomers.

“The Kid” went to the March and posts on it here.

And “the Kid” made a video too. Help us make it go viral!

YouTube Preview Image

 

Because of Francisco De Osuna and a Minor Miracle

During the Summer of 2007 I read an awful lot of books that led me to join my parish RCIA program in the Fall of that same year. I’ve written about most of my reading program in earlier posts in this series, and I continued reading great Catholic books once my RCIA class started too.

For example, I read Mirabai Starrs’ translation of The Book of My Life by St. Teresa of Avila. It is a fascinating book about prayer by a fascinating woman. By reading Big Terry’s book, I discovered the work of another obscure author I had never heard of who had a big impact on this Doctor of the Church and on me. Here is what St. Teresa says on page 20 of her book that peaked my interest,

On the way to my sister’s village, we stopped in to see my Uncle Pedro. He gave me a copy of The Third Spiritual Alphabet by Francisco de Osuna. This is a book all about the Prayer of Recollection. In the past year, I had realized what harm my appetite for romance novels had done to my soul, and I had begun to develop a tremendous appreciation for spiritual books. Since I did not know a thing about the practice of contemplative prayer, or how to go about recollecting my senses and my thoughts, I was thrilled to find a book that told me exactly what to do.

I remember thinking to myself, I don’t know what St. Teresa is talking about (contemplative prayer? What’s that?), but if she liked de Osuna’s book enough to give it such a ringing endorsement, then I need to get a copy of it too, post haste! [Read more…]

To Remember the Fallen

This is a special Memorial Day edition of the YIM Catholic Community Prayer Intentions List.  In the United States, Monday, May 31st is a federal holiday. On this day we honor those who have given their lives while serving in the armed forces of our country during armed conflicts.

As the resident Marine on the blog, writing this post is a duty I must fulfill. Truthfully, I didn’t want to write it. But then I started remembering two Marines who died in an accident that almost killed me. Their names are Sergeant Armando Avila, and Sergeant Michael Vasquez.

They served with me in the artillery unit that I belonged to. Sgt. Avila was a cannoneer and responsible for a team of Marines that manned the 155MM howitzer that we all knew and loved, the M198. Sgt. Vasquez was a Forward Observer, or the eyes of the battery. He would radio back to our Fire Control Center positions and coordinates for targets. I loved these two men as brothers. Their families loved them even more.

I still wasn’t going to write this post though, because my two friends had died in a peace-time accident. Then one of my friends posted the picture and story of a guy I served with when he was a young enlisted Marine. Let me introduce you to my friend and comrade-at-arms, Major Jay Thomas Aubin, USMC.

Jay had always wanted to be a pilot, it was a dream of his. His father owned a little airstrip up in Maine. Little Jay was a lot like me, you see. He knew what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he knew it at a young age. Also like me, Jay wasn’t born with a silver-spoon in his mouth, but he had a goal, and goal setting is how you actualize dreams. Or maybe he, again like me, was called to the vocation of warrior.

Jay enlisted in the Marine Corps right out of high school for a four-year enlistment. After graduating from Parris Island, he went to school to learn how to repair communications and navigation equipment on aircraft.  He worked on A-6 Intruders, an all-weather attack aircraft. He was a good kid, a good Marine. He did his four years honorably, and left the Marines with money he had saved and earned. He attended college.

Like me, Jay didn’t go to college to “find himself” either. He went to earn his bachelor’s degree so he could come back into the Marine Corps as an officer and take his shot at flight school. If all this sounds pat and easy, believe me, it is far from that. The entire endeavor was a long-shot if there ever was one. College was the easy part but surviving Quantico (where Marine Officers are made), which is known for many things, is no cakewalk. He did well, made it to flight school, earned his wings of gold. Easy words to write, but extremely difficult tasks to accomplish.

He married a girl named Rhonda, who knew what she was getting into when she met Jay. Military wives are a special breed, and they need to be remembered as well. The Twin Towers were struck, and the machinery of society geared up for war. By this time, Aubin had moved up the ranks and was a Major and an experienced pilot (when I knew him he was a wee Corporal). His country said his unit must go to war, and he said “Aye aye, sir.”

Operation Iraqi Freedom was the name of the deployment. The war began on March 20, 2003. From here, I’ll let Hugo Kugiya of the Associated Press tell the rest.

Maj. Jay Thomas Aubin was among the first casualties of the war. He was piloting a helicopter with three other Marines and eight British Marines aboard when it crashed in Kuwait, two days after the war started.

The chopper was emblazoned with his nickname, Sweet Pea. It was a name given to him by a subordinate, inspired by the way Aubin responded to a favorable report: “Oh, sweet!”

“No one could find a name to suit him,” said his mother, Nancy Chamberlain of Winslow, Maine. “They kept coming up with these macho names, but they didn’t fit.”

He was not an imposing man, possessing a slight build and an easy smile.

Let me break in with a little reality here. Jay was tough as nails. Look at the photograph. He could run 3 miles like a gazelle, doing it in 18 minutes or less. Slight build? He could do 20 dead-hang pull ups. And when I knew him, 80 sit-ups in under 2 minutes. Marines come in two varieties: big and mean, and skinny and mean. OK? Back to the civilians’ write-up,

His was more of a nurturing personality. After the Marine Corps ball, he took his wife home, then checked out a van and drove back to the party, waiting for drunk Marines to exit, offering them a ride home.

Knowing him as I did, I can believe every word of this. He was an outstanding human being.

Aubin, 36, enlisted in the Marines, first, as a way to pay for college where he earned a business degree, then, so he could pursue the dream he had had of learning to fly, ever since he was an infant and his pilot father strapped him into his two-seater.

The crash that killed Sweet Pea was ruled an accident — there was no gunfire. Blowing sand and smoke from burning oil wells were thought to be a factor, his mother said.

“The thing that bothered me the most was I thought he was going to be blamed,” Chamberlain said. “But he wasn’t …

“He always said if he was flying a helicopter that went down, he wanted to go down too. I miss him more than I can tell you, but sometimes there are things worse than death. We’re the ones suffering now. But if he had lived, he would really be suffering.”

And that is how I received my orders to write this post. My buddy, Corporal Jay Aubin became Major Jay Aubin, aka Sweet Pea, and his family lost him at the age of 36. He was survived by his parents,  his wife, Rhonda, and their children, 10-year-old Alicia (now 17) and Nathan, 7 (now 14).

Our Lord said,  this is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:12-13). Whether or not you believe that this includes members of the military, let me assure you that it does. Sudden death is an occupational hazard for members of the military. For the rest of us, it is just a hazard. But death, either way, is inevitable, and those who put their lives on the line during combat operations are definitely following Our Lord’s commandment.

In the comment box below, if you would like to offer up a prayer for any of your friends or family members who have given their life while serving in the armed forces, please do so. You can remain anonymous or not, it is up to you. I would only ask that you adhere to our other regular rule, which is to avoid divisive politics.

There are hundreds, thousands,  tens of thousands of stories similar to Jay Aubin’s that I’ve shared with you today. So let us pray for the brave souls of our fallen, and for their families who have borne their sacrificial loss, together as a community. Semper Fidelis.

God of power and mercy,
you destroy war and put down earthly pride.
Banish violence from our midst and wipe away our tears,
that we may all deserve to be called your sons and daughters.
Keep in your mercy those men and women
who have died in the cause of freedom
and bring them safely
into your kingdom of justice and peace.

We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.