Have you noticed how tough life is? It’s hard enough to make it on your own, but try living the Christian life fully and the delusion that doing so is easy should have already crashed down upon you like a Summer thunder storm. That is, if you are giving it your all.

I’m reminded of the sage words of a military genius again. Ever heard of Carl von Clauswitz? Here is something he shared in his classic book on military strategy, On War,

Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing is difficult. The difficulties accumulate and end by producing a kind of friction that is inconceivable unless one has experienced war.

Sure, you could kid yourself that this doesn’t apply to your life as a Christian. “I’m a civilian,” or so you pretend. But to me, Clauswitz’s thoughts illuminate the truth of the life not only of those “in the world,” but definitely the lives of those of us who struggle mightily to be “not of the world.”

So yesterday morning, for the first time in what seems like ages, I dug into my book bag, pulled out my copy of the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary, flipped to the Friday morning prayers and proceeded to regain my sanity. It wasn’t long before I came across this truth of the Christian life,

Your inmost being must be renewed, and you must put on the new man (Ephesians 4:23).

I always knew that it was work to be a Christian, in the back of my mind. Everything I had learned from studying the Bible while growing up warned that this was true. But somewhere between leaving home and entering the world on my own, I had forgotten this fact. Running away from the truth will do that to you.

St. Paul’s inspired words reminded me of this situation again. You see, in order to “put on the new man,” you have to take off the old man first. And Lord knows, early on I had as much interest in being changed as the next person, which if you are anything like me means practically not at all. I went along with the easy care of “the saved,” while never confronting any of the dark shadows of responsibility that followed me along that road.

In other words, I sought the easy path of the Christian who is a Christian in name only. I professed belief in Christ, had been baptized, and I was “good to go” in that department, or so I thought, and I could concentrate on other more important things like fighting World War III, or striking it rich, you know, all while ignoring the plight of the poor or less fortunate. Talking myself out of my sinfulness, and letting my pride get the best of me and run the show.

I came back to the well of my faith only when I needed help. Like when I was sweating probation when I was trying to make it through Marine Security Guard School in Quantico, or when I was getting ready to graduate from college and I would pray, “Lord, help me find a job.” Prayers such as these are not invalid. They are necessary prayers for the soul to cry out with, as long as they are backed up with the diligent search to find work, etc. But all in all, I was a fair weather Christian and my conscience would needle me on that point from time to time.

Distractions helped me keep from listening to these urgings for the longest time. Have you allowed that to happen? Especially when there is some important project that you know you should be working on, but you put it off and put it off some more in the vain hope that the task would go away on its own accord so you won’t have to face it. But it doesn’t go away, and then you burn the midnight oil cobbling something together that barely passes muster, and just in the nick of time. I didn’t want to live my life like that forever.

As they say, denial is not just a river in Egypt, but I drank deeply from her anyway. But increasingly I noticed that her drafts still left me parched. Despite dying from thirst, it took my almost being killed to put me finally on the path to the Catholic Church. The Lord knows that marrying a Catholic didn’t do this, but it didn’t hurt matters either. Nor did the accident provoke me into an instant, “on the spot” conversion either. It took another 6-7 years before I finally cracked open the door that, by this time, my conscience was banging on loudly and relentlessly. As I’ve written before, the injuries I sustained ended my Marine Corps career, providing me the opportunity to change my (and my family’s) life and lead us I knew not where.

I never thought this tortuous path would lead me to the Catholic Church, but every day I rejoice that it has. I can say that I have no idea what is going on in much of the rest of the Church. Perhaps my brush with the Desert Fathers has inured me to answering the siren call of keeping tabs on all that the Bishops do, or don’t do, for instance. For me, the call to conversion is deeper than playing “inside baseball” with what is going on with Rome and all her players. This particular player is in the game, and not sitting on the bench. I am too busy “work(ing) out my salvation with fear and trembling” to have much time to devote to anything that distracts me from helping me, my family, and you dear readers, from that goal.

I’ve heard it said by some to others (bloggers, etc.), “how could you not know about Father X?,” or “problem XYZ?” or some such line regarding another scandal du jour. You all know that I’ve heard about, and commented on, some events like these in the past. And I’m likely to do so again, in the future. But it will be only if it is something glaringly obvious worth talking about, and by that I mean something that is leading others astray, or that has affected me personally in some way.

The real reason that I don’t follow all the latest newsy stuff is that I am too busy doing the work of “renewing my inmost being” to pay attention to the noise that’s going on outside. This work of taking off the old person and putting on the new one is time consuming. Especially considering that I have other work, and family responsibilities, on top of blogging about the Faith here. But my friend Webster Bull said once that “being Catholic is like walking around with a blazing torch in your hand, one that illuminates everything you encounter” and for me that is the reality.

It is as if the scales have dropped from my own eyes, and I’ve discovered the “beauty ever ancient, beauty ever new” of the Church. It is the vision of a person who was blind once and can now see. Or like after the storm is gone and I see what Noah saw. Even so, I’ll freely admit that the sight I have regained is still one “as looking through a glass, and darkly.” But the Beacon calls me clearly.

And thankfully, as I continue to do the work of renewal, the Divine Optician constantly updates the prescription on my individual looking glass. And did I mention he also carries most of the load? He’s got the big stuff, so I can sweat the small stuff.

Photo Credit: Michael Belk

I’ve got this hobby of finding electronic versions of great books about the Catholic Faith. I share this pastime with everyone who stops by here too, via the YIMCatholic Bookshelf. At last count, I’ve added 853(!) fully searchable volumes to the shelf so far. There’s no cost to read or download them, and we’re open 24 hours, 7 days a week.

Just the other day I found some books that were digitized from the collection of the Monastic Library of the Abbey of Gethsemani. Yes, the one in Kentucky where Fr. Louis was a monk and priest. They also spent some time on the shelves, and possibly still do, at the University of California in Berkeley. Who knew?
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Last night I had the supreme privilege and pleasure of hearing our eldest son play with his chamber music ensemble a concert of Bach and Vivaldi at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Trenton, New Jersey. (Here they are performing in Florence several years ago. )  What moved me the most was when the children performed Vivaldi’s Gloria, accompanying  the Absalom Jones Inspirational Choir.

As Frank has written on these pages, Vivaldi was a Catholic priest. What I discovered last night by reading the program notes was that for 40 years Father Antonio Vivaldi was part of the 18th century “ospedale” movement, which offered what we would now consider music therapy to orphans and others marginalized by society. You can read more about this movement on the website “Vivaldi’s Girls”. The concert reminded me how God uses music and other forms of beauty to heal our souls.

As Maetro di Violino di Choro of the  girls’ ensembke of Ospedale della Pietà in Venice, Vivaldi was required to compose two masses a year, two Vesper servies and two new motets a year. He composed Gloria for these orphaned and illegitimate girls to perform.  

Our son’s participation in a chamber-music ensemble here in New Jersey is another occasion to marvel at the way God works. Three summers ago, I was working in Trenton, which is about an hour from home.  My husband and I thought we had done a good job figuring out child-care arrangements; Greg works near home and the boys were settled into a recreational activity nearby. Through a very unfortunate turn of events, our eldest was unexpectedly kicked out of the activity. If I were to give you the sorry details of how this unfolded, you likely would agree with our perception that adults in charge were unkind and unfair. He’d done nothing to warrant his rejection. The events angered us. But they also left me and my husband in a pickle. What to do with our 11 year old?

Frantic, I scoured the internet for alternatives and stumbled on a “chamber-music” music camp a few blocks from my workplace. Our son was a new double bass player and attended the camp joyfully. When camp was over, S., the director, approached me and asked me if she could ask him to join her chamber-music orchestra for youth. I balked – he was new to playing bass and these young musicians were so experienced and talented. They have performed in Chicago, Paris, Essen, Düsseldorf, Florence, Prague, Montenegro, Croatia, Baden, Vienna, and as part of the Philadelphia Bach Festival. But S. saw something in him that I could not – raw talent, an agreeable personality and an openness to learning.

Last night, I closed my eyes as the orchestra and choir performed the Gloria. I was transported to another place, and place of peace and joy and beauty.  I forgot the piece was being performed by children; it was that well done. But then I remembered the girls of Venice, for whom this piece was written. (In the painting at left, they are shown performing) Vivaldi hoped his Gloria would help heal them and as a result, all of us can be healed by his music. Here is a clip of the first movement, not from last night’s concert, but from the movie Shine.

St. Philip Neri painted by Fr. Kevin Kelly

Did you know the Church has a Patron Saint of Joy? He’s St. Philip Neri. Today is his feast day.

Friends from our parish invited me to attend a Mass tonight at  7 o’clock to celebrate. We joined dozens of worshippers at the New Brunswick Oratory of St. Philip Neri, including five Oratorian priests, one Oratorian brother, and 14 secular Oratorians.

Beautiful and unexpected (and new!) to me was that the community tonight admitted six freshly minted Secular Oratorians. We Catholics are accustomed to praying for vocations; how stunning to see the those prayers come to fruition.

Who are the Oratorians?  “The Oratory believes that heaven is other people. In the spirit of prayer alone, and prayer in community, we come to share and encourage each other in our sacramental lives. As Oratory, we meet all peoples, all experiences and in return our understanding of God is widened and deepened. ” Perhaps the best known Oratorian is Blessed John Henry Newman.

Also by Fr. Kevin

Who was St. Philip Neri? At this late hour, I can’t do justice to the beauty of his life. He was born in Florence in 1515. A devout priest, he refused to take anything too seriously, except for Christ. He was funny and charming and spontaneous. The only rule of his order is “Sola Caritas,” or “Love Alone.”

So much moved me tonight: the sound of the harp and trombones, the chanting, the laughter, the earnest faith of the Oratorians and their secular companions; the celebrant joking before Mass began about having to wear three layers of polyester; the church bells ringing into the night at the Mass’s end.

Tonight was sticky hot and the church had opened the stained glass windows to let a breeze in. All during Mass, as I looked at the altar, I could see commuter trains transporting workers home. These sights and sounds made me realize how our lives are just like this; we take time to worship in the middle of the busyness of our lives.

When I got home, I did a little googling about St. Philip Neri.  I discovered St. Philip Neri had thought something similar. “Right in the middle of the crowd, we can be on the way to perfection.”

Update: Elizabeth Scalia on St. Philip Neri

You’ve probably never heard of Kenelm Henry Digby. You’ll be hearing more about him from me though. I’m currently reading a biography about him.

A while back, I added a slew of his works to the YIMCatholic Bookshelf. Back on All Souls Day, I shared one of his poems with you. Today I’d like you to read a few of Digby’s lines of verse about Art. I promise a post about Digby himself in the future (a fascinating conversion story!).

But for now, just these few lines from his poem Ouranogaia: Heaven on Earth, from Canto VI, and a bonus video featuring the work of an amazing child prodigy named Akiane Kramarik.

By Admiration (works of Art, Painting, And Music)

Great Nature’s works admired so, we said,
To fields Elysian men have often led.
But works of human art no less provide
A field for admiration truly wide;
Whether they would exactly imitate
Sweet Nature’s present and imperfect state;
Or striving to combine in one all parts
Of beauty, so as to inflame our hearts
By picturing an artificial whole,
Made up of parts, and no part copied sole.
While, on whatever pathway they would wend,
They all must seek this one essential end—
Of making the unseen to mind appear,
Without which nought that’s seen is ever dear.
For so all works design’d of human art
That with success would touch and move the heart
Must still by means that are well known to all,
From things unseen remove the present pall,
That the invisible may clearly be
Brought thus before the mind; that ever we
May see its sheen, and feel its cheering glow;
For nought else moves the heart on earth below.
‘Tis then that art will yield for mankind here
A foretaste of the bliss that will appear
In those fair, happy regions, where it may
Be not intended all to pass away.

The bliss of those who Nature will admire,
Descends no less on those who never tire
Observing Nature in men’s works of art,
Of which a view they equally impart;
So that we argue justly when we hold
That human works can Heav’n itself unfold.

In song, the thought and sentiment come first;
These reign and govern, and still will keep the heights;
In painting, howe’er purely artists thirst.
The workman’s hand will chiefly claim its
rights—
Yes, even when it seeks the pure ideal,
And shuns an imitation of the real.

But if with skill you weigh the mystic bond,
Connecting hands with the presiding soul,
Your thoughts disparaging will then prove fond,
If raising not more wonder at the whole;
Or else, unless the hand rebels, and then
You well may scorn Art’s democratic men,

Who seek but profit with much daily toil,
By eccentricity, or what is worse,
By agency the human mind to soil
And yield a bitter, and a cleaving curse.
Whereas it is Art’s office to supply
A path towards Eden to attract the eye,

Supporting and exalting human life,
As even Plato show’d in days of old,
Suggesting that its noble, endless strife
Should be in making age and youth behold
The inner nature of the good and fair,
To fan their temples with Elysian air.

You can read the rest of Digby’s canto here. And now, the evolution of the artistry of Akiane,

In his book The Interior Carmel: The Threefold Way of Love, John C.H. Wu ends the chapter on “fraternal charity” with a short poem he composed. I read elsewhere that he was a poet too, but this is the first time I’ve seen one of his originals. I’ll let him introduce it to you,

Last year I hit upon a poem when I was waiting for the bus. I have outlined these (as) my ideals of life. Although I myself am very far from attaining these ideals, I think you may profit by the poem.

Ideals of Life

To see the cosmos in a flower;
To live Eternity in an hour;
To find the Transcendent in the ordinary,

John C.H. Wu

And the One in the many;

To drink the Tao in the cup of duty;
To realize that goodness is beauty.
To taste peace in activity,
And joy in humility,

To meet Christ in your neighbor,
To feel refreshed in labor.
To be sober and drunk at the same time–
Sublimely human and humanly sublime.

Thanks John! You have a way with words.