Singing to No One

January 26, 2019 (499 words)

I happen to be a big fan of any sort of live music. It can be a jazz trio, a symphony orchestra, or a high school marching band. There is something about people making beautiful noise on a musical instrument that floats my boat.

But my early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine effectively limits the opportunities to enjoy such expression. Of late, most of my exposure has been the odd night out at local drinking and eating establishments that feature the proverbial “live music” on certain days of the week.

Out here in the sticks this invariably takes the form of an older white guy sitting on a stool in a dark corner of the room, strumming an acoustic guitar, and singing what for my generation now constitutes the Great American Songbook: The Band, the Beatles, Jackson Browne, Bob Dylan, the Eagles, James Taylor, and the like.

The quality of these performers does tend to vary. Most are capable on their instrument, while their vocal abilities noticeably waiver during the course of an evening. But each one, in my experience, gives it their all, and is trying their best to entertain us with a most precious commodity: real, live music.

When in attendance I can usually be found slapping the table in time, tapping my toe, and singing along. But most everyone around me is paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to the musician in their midst. They are engrossed in conversation with the person next to them, or pre-occupied with their hand-held device, or fixated on the multiple big screen tvs mounted in most public houses these days.

With the emergence of high-quality recorded music in the last half century or so, we have come to take its presence in our lives for granted. Music is now just another readily available commodity. But I believe another reason we are given to ignoring the stranger who shares their art as we eat and drink is that so few of us practice any sort of art of our own anymore.

In this context I would define “art” as any endeavor not centered on the earning or spending of money. There was a time in the not-too-distant past when men and women had “hobbies.” Remember what used to be referred to as the “‘domestic arts”? This term once described a broad range of creative and productive activities, mostly enjoyed by women, all of which have now gone by the wayside.

Men, too, had their favored pastimes that engaged their creative – and in some cases even a contemplative – side. Pouring ourselves into things not related to commerce helped give our lives meaning.

Rather than casually dismissing the live, local performer as a poor facsimile of our favorite record, we should appreciate the music-making as a personal art form being shared with us, his neighbors. And we should set about finding an art form of our own to pursue.

Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr.
January 26, 2019

An Economics of Justice and Charity

January 23, 2019 (418 words) This Christmas I received a book as a present from one of my considerate children, who shall remain nameless. (But she knows who she is.) I have started reading this book from the beginning, which of course is what every author wants their readers to do. But I have also already flipped to the final page, because I am impatient by nature and can’t wait to see how the story will turn out. What follows is the last, long paragraph from this year’s favorite Christmas present: “Now if all this is true, then it applies to men whether as individuals or as groups. It is true that human beings are saved or damned as individuals. But as I pointed out already, we cannot ignore God’s law just because we are acting as part of a group. Pope Pius XI noted that our economic actions, ‘whether of society as a body or of individuals,’ must be linked to that hierarchy that has God as its apex. Catholics especially should try to make sure that the very structures of our communal and corporate organizations, from the state to the family and everything in between, will not hinder – and if possible even promote – the glory of God and the salvation of mankind. “The larger and more complex an organization is, the more we must take care that it does not begin to exist for itself alone, free from the rule of Jesus Christ. Many of the social encyclicals since Leo XIII devote much space to topics such as relations between employers and employees, between one industry and another, and between international trading partners – because the supreme pontiffs have always known that it is too easy for sin to enter into human affairs. “Particularly in the modern world, we experience not just simple human sin anymore, but what John Paul II called ‘structures of sins’ – institutions and established patterns of behavior that embody, promote, and continue sin. As much as possible, we should try to set up ‘structures of virtue’ instead. Only in that way will the kingship that Jesus Christ holds over the human race be manifested in our conduct and in the conduct of nations and of all the institutions and associations that we use and enjoy in our pilgrimage to our true and eternal Fatherland.” An Economics of Justice & Charity: Catholic Social Teaching, Its Development And Contemporary Relevance Thomas Stork Angelico Press 2017 Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr. January 23, 2019

Living in Fear

January 21, 2019 (543 words)

We all have our preferred sources of news and information that contribute to our comfortable routines. In the January 11 edition of The Week magazine, managing editor Mark Gimein provides an “Editor’s Letter” in which he observes: “we seem to live now in a state of perpetual fear.”

In The New York Times of January 14, veteran political correspondent Peter Baker warns us the “real battle (between the President and the press) has yet to begin.” In his front page, above-the-fold column, Mr. Baker quotes Andy Surabian, a Republican strategist and former special assistant to Mr. Trump, as saying, “the next two years are going to be non-stop political war.”

And then there is Chris Hayes, host of the popular MSNBC nightly news round-up, “All In with Chris Hayes,” who recently gave an interview to NPR (National Public Radio) in which he boils down the current dilemma facing responsible journalists as follows, “the President kicks the ball, and we are all forced to chase after it.”

It’s only natural for the aforementioned professionals to discern the tenor of the times, and dutifully report on what they see and sense. But for those of us not being paid to track the calamities being routinely summoned by President Tweet, there is really no reason to obsess over such things.

By which I do not mean to suggest that current affairs are trivial, and can be casually dismissed. Paying attention to the world around us, and making ourselves as informed as possible, is a good thing. But we should also recognize the limits of our sphere of influence. No matter how much we may care, there is little most of us can do to effect national – to say nothing of international – events.

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… a mature equilibrium is the best we can hope for

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So the best one can hope for in this life is to achieve a level of mature equilibrium, and try to conduct one’s day-to-day activities in a rational, considerate manner.

The alternative to finding ourselves motivated by perpetual anger or fear, generated by a pre-occupation with the larger world, is to consciously seek motivation in such simple things as faith, hope, and charity. These virtues make us capable of “living as God’s children, and meriting eternal life,” as the saying goes.

Does that sound too ephemeral for your taste? It’s really as gritty and down-to-earth as it gets. This is where the rubber meets the road, where the Golden Rule (“treat others as you would wish to be treated”) first gains traction.

We can continue spending an inordinate amount of our time thinking about and commenting on the deeds of shameless leaders and other deplorables operating in the public eye. Or we can focus that energy on cleaning up behaviors within our immediate control.

The choice for most of us is between indulging public outrage and the cultivation of private virtue, between random indignation and responsible engagement.

When all is said and done, tending to one’s own garden is the most productive use of one’s limited time and resources. It’s also widely regarded as being the hardest work there is, and worthy of our full attention.

Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr.
January 21, 2019

Dénouement

January 17, 2019 (31 words) Once we are finally finished with acquisition, our thoughts turn naturally toward absolution. Of everyone, and of everything. Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr. January 17, 2019

Unconfessed Sins

January 6, 2019 (640 words)

(The following is reprinted from the Letters section of the December 2018 issue of Culture Wars magazine, as contributed by Lise Anglin of Toronto, Ontario.)

In the October issue of Culture Wars, Sean Naughton reviews the work of David Walliams, whose fame began in England in 2003 as a result of his appearance in a “shocking and disgusting” show called Little Britain. Walliams went on to write books for children that encouraged vulgarity, revenge, and rebellion against the Fourth Commandment.

Naughton laments the enthusiastic acceptance of these books by Catholic primary schools, and sees them as an offshoot of the example set earlier by Roald Dahl (1916-1990) who was a pioneer in writing hateful but popular books for children.

In the course of the review, Naughton describes the psychology of unrepentance in some detail and thus touches upon an amazing aspect of the Catholic doctrine on sin. We often use the word “sin” as if it had one general meaning (an offense against God), but in the Catholic world it really has two meanings. Unconfessed sins are one thing and confessed sins are quite another.

Unconfessed sins, as Naughton shows, produce confusion, guilt, moral blindness, stupidity, shame, degradation, cruelty, sadism, inhumanity, hatred, coarseness, crassness, and vulgarity. They even cause a detestation of the innocence of children. Unconfessed sins enslave, dominate, and imprison the soul in darkness (John 8:34). Under their weight, the soul can only lash out in pain instead of doing something useful for others.

However, the Sacrament of Confession, received with the right disposition, goes way beyond the forgiveness that it guarantees. Forgiveness is just the beginning. Confession actually transforms former sins into a bond with God. They become the opposite of what they were.

Once confessed, these sins are changed into memories of former times, between the soul and God, when the soul had put itself in danger but then was rescued by the Perfect Friend, and now is safe and bubbling over with happiness. Confessed sins are no longer a burden. They are like injuries an athlete had to overcome before he went on to win an Olympic Gold Medal. They testify to the power and goodness of God. Naughton is exactly right in his article when he uses the phrase “the richness of repentance” (p.24)

The anchoress Julian of Norwich (1342-1416), author of Revelations of Divine Love, believes that in Heaven confessed sins are like trophies or jewels commemorating the early victories of the saved soul. For all eternity, they shine and sparkle. They no longer signify an offense against God but rather the triumph of Redemption.

About those who have overcome sin by confession, she writes: “This is the bliss of Christ in His works; and this is His meaning when He saith in the same shewing that we are His bliss, we are His prize, we are His worship, we are His crown” (Revelations of Divine Love, Chapter 31)

The power of Confession is so transformative that it is almost reminiscent of the mystery of Transubstantiation. This is why Catholics feel no disturbance but only peaceful awe at litanies of sins once committed by saints. We marvel at the conversions of Mary Magdalen, Peter, and Paul and we know for sure the sins they once committed were changed into witness, gladness, and glory. We even take a certain pleasure at remembering how low they had once sank.

Mary Magdalen was full of demons, Peter denied he even knew Jesus, and Paul organized the slaughter of Christians. Yet these histories of sin are not sources of sadness for us. We enjoy them as a foreshadowing of great things to come.

In summary, confessed sins and unconfessed sins are two completely different things, and Sean Naughton gives an excellent description of the difference.

Lise Anglin
Toronto, Ontario

Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr.
January 6, 2019

Doctors of the Church

January 1, 2019 (343 words) The term “Church Fathers,” or “Early Church Fathers,” or “Fathers of the Church,” describes those men of the first two generations after the Apostles of Christ, and for that reason are often referred to as the “Apostolic Fathers.” There is no definitive list. A few of the more famous such Fathers include Clement of Rome (c. 30-100), Ignatius of Antioch (c. 50-117), and Polycarp of Smyrna (c. 69-155). Clement was Pope, and the other two were bishops. All three were martyrs, put to death for their belief in Christ. “Doctors of the Church,” however, is a designation given to a specific list of thirty-six individuals who defend and explain the faith in an exemplary manner, through their writing or preaching. They are sometimes also referred to as “Scholastic Doctors.” Their work continues to be an aid to our understanding. Pope Boniface VIII was the first to confer this title in 1205, and the first four people to be identified by Boniface as Doctors of the Church were Ambrose (340-397), Jerome (343-420), Augustine (354-430), and Gregory the Great (540-604). The list of conferees is always open to discovery and expansion, as Pope Benedict XVI added three names in 2012, and Pope Francis added one in 2015. What follows is the list as it currently stands, in chronological sequence: Athanasius (297-373) Ephrem the Syrian (306-373) Hilary of Poitiers (315-368) Basil the Great (329-379) Gregory Nazianzen (330-390) John Chrysostom (347-407) Cyril of Alexandria (374-444) Peter Chrysologus (400-450) Leo the Great (400-461) Isidore of Selville (560-636) Bede (673-735) John Damaascene (675-407) Gregory of Narek (951-1003) Peter Damian (1007-1072) Anselem of Canterbury (1033-1109) Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179) Anthony of Padua (1195-1231) Albert the Great (1200-1280) Bonaventure (1217-1274) Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) Catherine of Sienna (1347-1380) John of Avila (1500-1569) Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) Peter Canisius (1521-1597) John of the Cross (1542-1591) Robert Bellarmine (1542-1621) Lawrence of Brindisi (1559-1619) Francis de Sales (1567-1622) Alphonsus Liguori (1696-1787) Therese of Lisieux (1873-1897) Robert J. Cavanaugh, Jr. January 1, 2019