I am the manger of the Lord…

He’s coming!

The Messiah, whose coming was awaited and prophesied for generations, is coming! The psalms speak of Him as “… more beautiful than the children of men,” (Psalm 45). They venture that "... In his days the righteous will flourish; prosperity will abound till the moon is no more. He will rule from sea to sea... He will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no-one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death...  and they will call him blessed" (Psalm 72).

This was the King of Israel, the mighty God, prince of peace, wonderful counsellor, Father forever, God with us. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life, the Resurrection and the Life – He was even mocked and abandoned for calling Himself the Bread of Life!

Yet, He did not come down into a palace, but a lowly inn. He wasn’t born of a righteous King, but a virgin orphan girl who said “yes” to God in the simplest yet most spectacular and magnificent fashion.

On the day He chose to take our lowly human flesh, the whole of creation was quiet. Angels and demons as well as all created things on Heaven and on Earth were awaiting her answer: “I am the handmaid of the Lord, let it be done unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38). I can just picture Heaven (well, I can’t picture it) – I can imagine shouts of jubilation and dancing. Imagine Abraham and the righteous forefathers and the glee they knew would soon be theirs. I can imagine St. Michael rejoicing with the Angels – she who would “crush the head of the serpent” (Genesis 3:15) had said yes!!!

Thus, God was conceived. The Word – the very “light of our path and lamp unto our feet” (Psalm 109) has become… a baby.

Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen (otherwise known as 3amou Fulty) tells us that “once He appeared, He struck history with such impact that He split it in two, dividing it into two periods: one before His coming, the other after it.”

A baby did all of this? God could have chosen any way to come down, but He became a baby? Yes. He did. He became a baby. He came down, took our flesh – our flesh that shall one day return to dust – in order that He may raise us up on the last day.

What other faith can claim that their God is this recklessly loving? This humble, this BEAUTIFUL?

See, when we look at nativity sets we generally think of a neat little room covered in hay and this beautifully built little wooden cradle. We imagine light either coming from the ceiling leading to the Godchild or light emanating from Him. We see Our Lady, all pretty and clean-looking, with the incredible St. Joseph looking on. Even the animals are glorified. This is all well and good if we’re talking Christmas decorations, because who would actually display the reality?

Jesus came to get messy. The room would have been full of poo. It would have stunk. The manger was a feeding trough – dirty and just as smelly as that tiny room. Our Lady had just come off a long journey with the man who was entrusted with her dignity as well as protecting the life of the Son of God. I definitely don’t claim to be a mystic, but I don’t think she would have been all white skinned and pretty after an ordeal like the one she had just gone through. They had knocked on every door in Bethlehem and been rejected. There had been "no room for them in the inn" (Luke 2:7).

St. Joseph went through the turmoil of not being able to find a place for his beloved bride to give birth to the Redeemer of the world, the long awaited Messiah. The Prince of Peace was about to become flesh and Joseph couldn’t even find a simple room for Him to lay. Eventually, they resorted to a little stable, the lowliest of places. God did not come to glorify things of the flesh. He did not want to come and give honour to temporal or earthly things.

We do the same thing to Our Lord every time we put sin ahead of our love for Him. Christ is knocking on the door of our hearts and we tell Him there is no room for Him there either. But, if only we knew the glory that will be ours should be accept our Emmanuel in the room of their hearts, we would no sooner give him everything, including our lives. We would live for Heaven alone.

How do we accept Him into our hearts? How do we reincarnate Him into our souls everyday in order to give Him honour?

Peter Kreeft tells us:

“If we speak Mary’s word, then the Word of God is born in our souls just as really as He was in Mary’s body and just as really as He is in the Eucharist. What happened in Bethlehem, what happens in our souls and what happens when we receive the Eucharist is the same event under three different modes… When you look at your Nativity set, at this most natural and ordinary thing in the word, a mother and a newborn baby, you are reading a pictorial newspaper headline that announces the most extraordinary event in the history… the Creator consented to come into His creature because she consented to have Him… Every time we consent to His perpetual proposal, every time we make an act of faith, and every time we receive the Eucharist, we redo Mary’s fiat and make Christmas happen.”

Our bodies, once a dirty stable, smelly and unworthy, are infinitely more honoured than that little stable we have seen for generations since, once we consume He who was born in a feeding trough. He signified the most humble of all His endeavours by coming into the world and laying in a manger, so that every time we consume the Eucharist, our body, once a little inn, becomes His palace. 

One day, when we reach our Heavenly destiny, we can, in imitation of the humility of Christ and His Blessed Mother, also attribute all our good gifts to God the same way Our Lady did: “my soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour… for He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.” (Luke 1:46-49)

Welid el Masi7! Halleluia!

Reflections on the Feast of Christ the King...

I know, I’m Maronite. In my rite, today is not the Feast of Christ the King. However, beautiful weather dictates I sit by my pool and work on my tan. This meant early morning Roman rite mass. But, before I apply my tanning oil, I’m in my office writing this.

Reason being? Well, I felt inspired.

First I’ll tell you where the feast came from, then I’ll tell you why I was shocked in the best-kinda-Catholic-way when I heard the gospel reading.

Pope Pius XI instituted the Feast of Christ the King in his 1925 encyclical letter Quas Primas. The title of the feast was "D. N. Jesu Christi Regis" (Our Lord Jesus Christ the King). Pope Paul VI gave the celebration a new title: "D. N. Iesu Christi universorum Regis" (Our Lord Jesus Christ King of the Universe). He also gave it a new date: the last Sunday in the liturgical year, before a new year begins with the First Sunday in Advent and assigned to it the highest rank, that of "Solemnity".

Why did Pius XI institute this feast? He wanted it to impact the laity.
"… If to Christ our Lord is given all power in heaven and on earth; if all men, purchased by his precious blood, are by a new right subjected to his dominion; if this power embraces all men, it must be clear that not one of our faculties is exempt from his empire. He must reign in our minds, which should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ. He must reign in our wills, which should obey the laws and precepts of God. He must reign in our hearts, which should spurn natural desires and love God above all things, and cleave to him alone. He must reign in our bodies and in our members, which should serve as instruments for the interior sanctification of our souls, or to use the words of the Apostle Paul, as instruments of justice unto God." ?

- Quas Primas (Pius XI)

He rules our minds, our wills, our hearts, our bodies. He is Christ the King. So what was the gospel reading today?

“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,  I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 

- Matthew 25:41-45

I love the Church. He is the King, but on the feast that commemorates His kingship, when we’re meant to reflect on Him reigning our hearts, wills, minds and bodies, we speak of him as a vulnerable servant. WEIRD…

Contrary to what the world thinks, His being a servant is what makes Him the ultimate King. 

Why? Christ did not come to glorify the flesh but the spirit. He did not live a life of riches, but because of this – because, and not in spite of it – His life was one of distinction. What did the world see? His palace was an inn, later a simple home in Nazareth. His birth was celebrated only by shepherds and animals. He was born in the feeding trough of donkeys and sheep. His Mother was a young girl of no notable birth. He didn’t dine with royalty, but tax collectors. His own people hated Him. His crown? Thorns. His vestments? Sackcloth. The only scarlet cloak He wore was given to Him in mockery then savagely torn from Him in His passion. His followers were mere fishermen and merchants, and yet even they betrayed him.

What does Heaven see? His palace is in the hearts of those who love Him. His birth was celebrated by shepherds and animals, as well as all the hosts of Heaven. It was foretold for thousands of years by the prophets. The angels sang endless chants of “Hallelujah!” This was the long awaited Messiah. He was born in the feeding trough of donkeys and sheep, to foretell His new temple: our feeding trough, the tabernacle. His Queen Mother was a virgin, born without sin – God’s greatest creation. He dined and came for those who needed to be saved. He came to call sinners! And for these sinners, he wore a crown of thorns and endured hatred, and eventually His passion. The world could not take away His kingship, because Christ’s kingdom is not of this world. "My kingdom is not of this world… but now my kingdom is from another place" (John 18:36).

His kingdom is not temporal. It is spiritual. His Kingdom cannot be overcome by its enemies, the enemies of love. Christ’s kingdom is in our hearts. We see his spiritual Kingdom in the hearts of those around us, and know that we reflect a microcosm of Heaven in the Church, made up of us – living stones.

THIS IS THE TRUE KINGDOM.

God: the not-so-cruel comedian…

God doesn’t just laugh at your plans, He discards them.

We tell God our plans, our deepest desires and deepest dreams. We share our disappointments and sorrows and ask Him – “why?” We cry and call out desperately to a God who we think forgets us. Psalm 63 expresses our feelings of abandonment: “my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you.” We think He is distant, that He wants us to realise our own strength.

How wrong we are.

We are being stalked by the love of God. When we read in Psalms 23:6 “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,” what we are actually reading is “God is hunting us down to give us His gifts, and not because we deserve them!” Following is a subtle, submissive action, but the Hebrew word King David used for ‘follow’ here is the same word as ‘stalk,’ or ‘hunt down.’ Nothing subtle about it!

God is love. He is who made our hearts and who our hearts were made for. He is everything we need. God loves us so much He couldn’t stand to just be an observer of our lives. God doesn’t sit back! He walked with Adam. He talked with Moses. He became a man, to share our humanity and give us His divinity. He suffered that we may understand just how much He loved us. “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…” What this is actually saying is “God loved the world *like so*.” It is not simply a declaration of how much He loved us, but more HOW He loved us.

Then, He left the Earth and wasn’t content to simply be a God who was among us when He was incarnated. He is now within us. Every time we consume Him in the Eucharist, His adorable blood pulses through our veins. Does that scare you a little? Good. God likes to get personal, especially when we don’t deserve it.

We read in Stephen Chbosky’s ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ that “we accept the love we think we deserve.” Yes. Yes, we do. This is the exact reason why God disregards our plans. We accept the love we think we deserve, but He knows what we deserve. He laughs at our dreams for ourselves and says ‘is that it? Just wait – wait and see what I have planned for you!’ His plans are unimaginable, inexplicable. They make our wildest human reveries look like fairy tales written by Ebenezer Scrooge.

Why? Because only He that made you knows you and knows your value. He knows what will make you happy, if only you put your life in His hands and allow Him to show you the way: and more than that, to have the courage to do what He wants, not what will merely keep you in your comfort zone.

We are not ‘stuck’ where we are at the moment. We are not here by coincidence or as a part of some cruel divine comedy God designed for His own entertainment. Our situation now is meant to prepare us for the place God wants to bring us into tomorrow. Trusting His plan is not contingent on understanding it!

See, as impatient as we are, God’s timing is not ours. He doesn’t operate on our schedule or when His plans suit us. His way is infinitely greater. He is never too early and never too late.

Maybe some of you can relate to this: I know sometimes in my life, I give God my struggles. I tell Him I want to trust Him, and to accept that I’m trying. I tell Him that at least for now, trying to trust him completely has to be enough until I can let go. Not long after this (often dramatic) resolution and promise, I get impatient. I tell God He’s too slow. He isn’t fixing it the way I want Him to. *He* isn’t enough. I snatch back my baggage only to hand it back not long after, when I realise how weak I am. On my own I am powerless, because I don’t rely on the grace from He whose “power is made perfect in weakness.” Then I pray for perseverance and the cycle starts over. Soon comes discouragement.

I’m learning - let go, let God. How can he fix me if I never relinquish control???

I am trying, as we all are. For encouragement, allow me to channel JPII: “you are not who they say you are, let me remind you who you are.”

We are children of the King, the ultimate Father who denies His children no good gift. Our King is not moved by the world. He walks with us. He knows our every step and, as we walk, He lays down the gifts of grace along our path. Have no fear, we are His. Maybe one day, in Heaven, we will join with St. Augustine in telling Our Lord: “You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me… I burned for your peace.”

Yahweh promised His bride Israel, as Jesus promised His Bride, the Church (us!): “… I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” We spoke of Psalm 63 putting into words how neglected we often feel. The psalmist later reassures us in the same stanza: “you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”

If that’s not enough, nothing will ever be. 

... Jesus, I (want to!) trust in you.

The pressure to die, and why we want to institutionalise it…

I’ve read a few articles the past couple weeks about the death of Brittany Maynard, who took her own life in order to escape her suffering. She had terminal brain cancer.

Let me start off by saying I pray God has mercy on her through the merits of His son, who loved Brittany so much he died for her. I pray we meet one day in the land of no pain and no goodbyes.

Some of these articles have been great, some have missed the point, and others have been so far off they have condoned her ‘taking control of her own life.’ How does one take control of something that they completely give up on?

Taking control of your life is about MASTERING, not escaping suffering. Far be it from whiney-old-me to judge how much pain she’s in (I get a headache and demand all but morphine cos I’m ‘dying’), but I don’t see what is glorious about condoning one euthanising themselves and escaping an opportunity to show the world just *how precious* life is. I am not judging her, for all I know she was in so much pain that she wasn’t thinking straight. This post isn’t about judging her, it is about condemning the ideology that if one wants to kill themselves, we should allow and even legalise it.

Yes, it’s easier to say these things from where I’m sitting, an over-cynical, conservative keyboard warrior, but let’s look at euthanasia objectively.

Forget the fact that we are made in the image and likeness of God and our lives are a gift. Forget that suffering is not the worst thing that can happen to us (I won’t mention that I once heard it said that “suffering for God is the only joy Heaven does not have.”) Forget that suffering is salvific, forget – for goodness’ sake, if we must – that Jesus Christ Himself suffered unimaginably, an innocent man, in order to show us how to suffer and to show us that when we struggle, He is there with us. Please, let’s not bring up that out of that suffering, out of the greatest act of Evil ever committed, came our salvation – the greatest good.

Forget all the “God stuff.” It’s great, but I don’t think it is essential to the euthanasia debate. I believe all moral issues can be argued simply using logic. In other words, you don’t have to be a Christian to believe euthanasia is wrong.

We’ve decided to forget the “God stuff” here. If I may, let’s forget the ‘slippery slope’ too. Let’s forget that in countries where euthanasia has been legalised there is a push for children as young as 8 or 12 to decide whether they want to live or die. Seems like a decision a pre-pubescent only-just-reached-the-age-of-reason child can make, right? Let’s not mention that where the euthanasia movement is strong, there has been a greater push for eugenics, where *we* decide what kind of people should live or die or even be conceived in the first place.

Let’s talk about what euthanasia is not: euthanasia is not compassion; it is a way for us to tell people they are a burden. They are no longer ‘powerful,’ as the euthanasia advocates wish to have us believe, they are useless and weak. They are ‘dragging us all down with them.’ Euthanasia is an attack on the vulnerable, plain and simple. Healthy ‘strong’ people are not at risk, only the most needy, fragile and defenceless are. Those that need protection and nurturing will simply be told “if you want, you don’t have to do this anymore.” Then, we are bombarded by statistics about how much money we would save if we didn’t have to look after the disabled or the elderly. What a sad world we live in. Even the Neanderthals had enough humanity in them to care for people and not simply leave them behind when we decide they are too burdensome.

A poll taken in the Netherlands in 2010 found that almost all of those living in nursing homes opposed euthanasia. Is this a shock? It shouldn’t be. They have a lot to fear. What’s to stop a frustrated relative or nurse convincing somebody they consider so burdensome they have the audacity to *live* they are no longer needed? What is to stop one of these victims submitting in what is nothing but a moment of weakness? Further, in countries where it has been legalised, countless cases of euthanasia occurring without the consent or request of patients should be enough evidence that this is a force for evil.

Why should somebody be forced to justify their own existence, especially at the most vulnerable time of their life? Rather than looking after one another, we are feigning compassion by telling people their life is no longer worth living.

C. Everett Koop, former surgeon general of the United States, brings up another point of note:  “It is very easy to slip into moral deception in a discussion of euthanasia… Euthanasia opens up the opportunities at this early stage of the game for almost inconceivable fraud, deception, and deceit. Think of the burdensome elderly people, economically burdensome, whose rapid demise could be looked upon as an economic blessing for their family. Think of the temptation to hasten a legacy. Think of how easy, when there are ulterior motives, to emphasize the surcease from suffering and anxiety that comes with painless death.”

People speak of a ‘right to die,’ but what about the ‘right not to be pressured to die?’ What about the right not to have it suggested to you that we would all be better off, that life would be easier without you? The "right to die" becomes an expectation to die, then a duty to die, then euthanasia - outright murder. Legalising euthanasia results in institutionalising the idea that a person’s existence has pros and cons. The will to live is human; it is a sign of that divine spark in all of us that makes us fight for good, for progress. To annihilate that would be catastrophic in more ways than we can imagine.

Who knows though? Maybe Brittany’s decision will spark a debate. Maybe the good that’ll come out of this evil is that people will talk about the issue enough to realise that life is always worth living.

I had to refrain from mentioning that to know 

of your impending death is a gift. 

One can only pray for the opportunity to die in a state of grace.

Parents: the reason we will always be inadequate...

Relax y’all. I love my parents.

In fact, they’re objectively brilliant. I just wish they weren’t so, well – cray. Actually, I lie. I’d probably be more bored than I care to admit if I had a normal family.

See, I thought my parents were the only ones who through their love, make their children feel completely inadequate. Apparently not.

There’s my Egyptian friend from uni. Let’s call her Delilah (Oum Kalthoum is taken). Delilah was studying education. She is now a maths teacher. Her dad felt the need to tell his entire family in Egypt that she was studying to be a ‘Professeur Matematick’ (half French, half hilarious for ‘Mathematics Professor’). He told them she would teach at universities. When she tried to correct him, he grounded her for the night for trying to make her dad look silly.

Delilah has a friend with fake name Talulah. Talulah is pretty and smart (well, pretty smart - forget the 'and' - that was me trying to be nice...). Talulah would come home after an exam ecstatic, and when her parents finally realised their daughter wasn't as morose as usual, they would ask the reason. The conversation would go something like this:

Parents: Talulah, chou beke - laysh mabsouta hayk? 2eraftina (Talulah, what's wrong with you - why are you so happy? You disgust us.)
Talulah: Sorry, I can't stop smiling. You know that Quantum Physics exam I was told to do because I'm the smartest girl in the world? I got 95%.
Dad: Eh? Wayn el 5% el be2yin? Keltiyoun? Men hayk nes7ane? (Yes? Where is the other 5%? Did you eat them? Is that why you're so fat?)

Then there’s Sarah. Well, not Sarah but an equally fun anagram of Sarah. Never mind. Point is, she worked in the family business whilst studying a Masters of Nursing. When a customer asked her what she was studying, her father scolded her for being a liar (in Arabic so the kindly old lady didn’t understand), then came out of his office and told the customer that his daughter was being humble and was ACTUALLY studying medicine. Sarah, being Sarah (or not Sarah – you get the point), smiled and nodded whilst turning the most peculiar shade of purple. Since then, she hasn’t dared tell people of her dishonourable occupation lest she bring ignominy to her family.

My friend Naomi (not even going to bother pointing out her real name isn’t Naomi) has two older brothers, both engineers. It will come as no surprise to those who understand life that people often have no idea she exists. When her dad introduces her (once she’s come out of her dungeon he must in order to avoid suspicion), he tells people that she WAS going to be a world-renowned Arabic/English translator but now teaches Kindergarten. Subtle – don’t sound *too* proud of her, 3amou.

Allow me to re-hash some childhood (and teenage, and adult) trauma here.

I will never forget the anxiety I experienced when receiving my school report. I distinctly remember my dad sitting my siblings and I down and iterating to us just how badly we would fail our HSC if we didn’t work harder. Never has a nine year old been more ready to embrace a lifetime of failure.

My complete and utter catastrophe of an existence was later confirmed when my dad told people I was studying to be a barrister for two years of my degree. Why? Because he had genuinely convinced himself of this false reality. I will give myself some credit when I mention I was smarter than Delilah. I never dared correct him. One day I worked up the courage to clarify that I was actually studying Economics. After the initial (45 minute) denial and confusion, this exchange descended into my dad lecturing me about how only through studying law could I one day have smart children. Now, I may not be an expert in genetics, but something seems odd to me… then again, what would I know?

Another thing I was supposed to inherit from my loving parents was my mother’s fake medical knowledge. I was recently reprimanded for a choice of kettle that mummy told me I should have known would cause heinous illnesses in all who venture to make a cup of tea. Why? It was plastic. I was promptly sent back to the shops to return the ailment-causing kettle and purchase a device that would not kill my friends slowly. In the same way I flee from the horror of burnt toast and make sure never to drink hot beverages with cold food, I did not dare defy her.

Let’s be serious though, underneath their not-so-subtle condemnation of anything we do, there is that incomparable love that means they cannot see their children do anything that isn’t spectacular. I’ll never forget my mum hunting down the altar servers when I was a kid in order for her to show me off by asking them to give me a reading in mass. I’ll never forget my dad teaching me at 4½ years old to march over to the ‘7amir’ (moron) and ‘demand’ (“demand habibi, demand, because people like you only ask nicely once”) my change when I came back crying saying the man at the service station had short-changed me 50c. These are moments that inspired me to hold my head up high and know that no matter what, I have the kind of support behind me that others wouldn’t dare dream about.  

Of all the criticisms I receive, I have a favourite. I know I’m not alone in that whenever we do something wrong or embarrassing, one of my parents is quick to attribute this quality to the other parent:
“Fi matel b 2oul, li khalaf ma met” (there is an expression – he who has children never dies) – well, I hope so. I don’t think I could ever be THAT kind of amazeballs.

They're smiling now... but don't be fooled. I'm sure this came
after a 'tough love' lesson of some kind!

Not your typical romantic...

I am by no means an overly-romantic kind of person. Most of my friends can vouch for this. I do, however, believe we are all worthy of the kind of love that gives us purpose.

Now, before people start biting my head off saying “we shouldn’t wait for somebody to give us purpose,” let me say I agree with you. I am not saying we as females should sit at home crocheting beanies and refining our culinary skills until Prince Holy-and-Charming arrives at our doorstep (even if the way to a man’s heart is generally through his stomach).

What I am saying is that often we put up obstacles for ourselves while searching for love. We convince ourselves we are unworthy, that we are somehow “not good enough.” We allow our insecurities to dictate our lives and our interactions with others. We let our baggage stop us dead in our tracks instead of letting it go and walking ahead.

The problem is that we only know what we are worthy of when we know ourselves – really know ourselves. God know us completely, and we need to view ourselves through His eyes. We would not settle if we valued ourselves the way Our Father in Heaven values us. How do we know God and thus know ourselves? Spend time in prayer, receive the Sacraments and study your faith. Where our heart is, there our treasure is also.

Often I get the feeling that the world’s idea of love was inspired by Greek mythology, even if most do not know it. It is said that humans originally consisted of four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces, but Zeus feared their power and split them all in half, condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them – soul mates.

Seems romantic, but what a burden to impose on another person! Our identity is in Christ – not in another person. I don’t buy into the idea that God created us for freedom, that He loves us so much that He gives us free will, only to have us all pre-programmed with some matching partner in the universe that we need to find to be complete. He was crucified and has risen from the dead in order that “we may have life and have it abundantly,” not for us to “have life and have it abundantly as long as a member of the opposite sex validates us.”

Nobody expects you to be perfect. Those that do don’t deserve you. Further, it is when we search for perfection in others that our own imperfections are illuminated further. Our partner should complement us, not complete us.  In order for this to happen, we need to accept that we are flawed, and that our partner will be too (unless your spouse is Christ, lucky duck!).

“Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.”
Mark Hack

See, I don’t think romantic love is about seeing the other as perfect despite their imperfections. It is about sacrificing for them despite their many flaws. It is not about erasing or nullifying somebody’s past heart-breaks and disappointments, but allowing the other to see the good that God intended by allowing hardships in their life. As Christians, suffering takes on a whole new salvific meaning.

Love is definitely not about hiding away from the parts of us we don’t necessarily parade for all to see. We all have parts of us that aren’t all that pretty, but the best kinds of relationships are between two people who embrace each other’s brokenness and show one another how much goodness each and every one of us can bring, and how much difference we can all make to humanity – just the way our Creator intended it. Trying to change someone to suit yourself only showcases your own narcissism in wanting to see your own reflection in your 'beloved.'

The most human thing in the world is wanting somebody you love to pour their love into the cracks that made you who you are. That is how love gives us purpose – making somebody a better version of themselves, because without our imperfections we aren’t really us.

The *Real* Feminine Mystique...

When I was younger, my mum told me something I thought was ridiculous – or maybe it was simply something I didn’t want to hear. She told me that everything wrong with the world; specifically everything wrong with relationships comes down to women.

According to her, women ruined everything.

At the time I thought she was insane, but as time goes on I understand more and more what she meant and why ‘mother knows all’ (even if she does exaggerate just a tad…).

See, women didn’t ruin everything because of some chauvinistic idea that women are worthless idiots. Nor did they ruin everything because of some ridiculous fundamentalist ‘the-human-body-is-dirty’ idea that women are temptresses whose sensuality has men not being able to act, well – like men.

No, women ruined everything because they forgot who they are. They have forgotten their value and have therefore reduced themselves to objects. Treat yourself as an object –and eventually people will objectify you. They will treat you as a thing to be used. It never fails to shock me when I read commentaries or articles about people lamenting the sexualisation of girls only to praise the ‘freedom’ the sexual revolution gave men and women everywhere in the very next breath.

The sexual revolution did not free mankind, it turned us into slaves: slaves to the false gods of sex, materialism and pleasure.

I am not putting this on women. I am simply stating that as the self-proclaimed ‘fairer sex,’ we can be better, forcing men to follow suit.

Conventional (modern!) feminism (furthermore to be known as ‘feminazism’) tells women that only by being sexually liberated can they truly be free.

I am not a conventional modern day feminist. I believe in intelligent, ambitious women. I believe in education, equal work for equal pay, high heels and make-up. I also believe in class, modesty (the body needn’t be paraded in order to be validated) and chastity (humans are more than simply instinct-driven creatures). Above all, I believe there is no greater gift to mankind than motherhood. There is no job even half as important.

Any woman who considers choosing to stay with your children a form of slavery spits in the face of countless generations of strong intelligent women before them who did just that. This was not necessarily because they were forced, but because they understood what feminazis tried to make us forget: nobody can raise a child better than a mother.

I believe in the power of femininity so much that I believe women (mothers especially!) shape society. Archbishop Fulton Sheen puts it better than I (most people do…):

To a great extent the level of any civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more noble her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women.

“The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women.” Wow.

See, women often complain about the lack of chivalry exhibited by men, but do nothing to entice a man to be chivalrous. Women complain that gone are the ‘real men,’ yet they often settle for the first testosterone-driven crooner who can act as genuinely interested in you as the last ‘flavour of the month.’ In short, women complain that men are pigs who use women, yet they not only allow themselves to be used, but often chase men whose ‘affections’ they know will be short-lived – or worse yet, use men in the same way.

I do not have a doubt in my mind that should women step up, men will be forced to follow suit. Countless heroes have found their principal inspiration and motivation in the love of a woman; and yet femininity is under threat. Women are becoming more crude and masculine; while men are trending toward femininity. I can only consider this a form of barbarity.

Being a woman is not about exhibiting a hatred of men or spending your life throwing pebbles at a glass ceiling – being a woman is about virtue, because only if women recognise their true worth will they be treated accordingly, and only then can society reach the fullness of truth, goodness and beauty.

Winged eyeliner, lipstick and pearls: always perfect with a good book.
Those gloves may make it hard to turn the pages, though.

Warts & All...

Coming off the feast of Pentecost this Sunday, commonly known as the ‘birthday of the Church, I was somewhat inspired to blog because - 

I’m in love… warts and all.

A friend of mine once told me there are two places one will always feel at home, no matter where they are in the world: McDonalds and a Catholic Church.

Whilst I’d like to profess my love for the fast food giant that provides me my favourite snack (cheeseburgers make me so so so happy), I can almost hear my waistline, arteries and doctor jointly scolding me.

The Catholic Church is home. She is also imperfect.

The Church we love is as flawed and messed up as we are, and the fact that She is Christ’s bride despite this gives me comfort.

Why? Because the Church MUST be flawed.

The Lord Himself told us that the sheep and the goats would be mingled together – just like the wheat and the weeds. Take a close look at his disciples. They were traitors, cowards, doubters, even men who were once notorious for the persecution of Christians! Would the Lord permit these men to be His apostles if He wasn’t teaching us something?

Jesus Christ was trying to show us that He came to call all sinners to repentance. We need Him because we are frail, and as such, the Church must be a place where the frail gather to be nourished by the good news and repentance of Our Lord. Only through the nourishment of His body, blood, soul and divinity can we live forever, and Christ gave this to his Church at the Last Supper – the Church He Himself ordained through the first Pope, St. Peter. In other words: the Eucharist is food for the weak, not a reward for the perfect.

Abigail Van Buren – otherwise known as ‘Dear Abby’ – famous for her one liners (she once told a woman the only cure for a married man that can't stay away from other women was ‘rigor mortis’) clarified that 'the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.'

She definitely hit the nail on the head with that latter statement. See, if one is not sick, there is no need to visit the spiritual doctor. No faithful Catholic would ever pretend they are not vulnerable. The Church is full of sinners and hypocrites – we all feel right at home there, and welcome others (that’s YOU!) to feel the same. *There is always room for one more hypocrite.*

People are full of criticism for an institution founded by Christ Himself, but fail to see the flaws in their own finite logic.

They tell you the Church is over-programmed, but they think of endless complex resource hungry things for Her to do. They hate the Church’s hierarchical nature, but then complain leadership is poor and in the very next breath complain that ‘nobody should try and tell them what to do.’ People complain the Church is ‘not diverse enough,’ yet the Church is the only institution that combines people of every race and culture seamlessly – and these same people are those whose opinions rarely differ from those they surround themselves with in order to boost their egos. People then have the audacity to claim the Church is too worried about ‘appearances,’ but spend insane amounts of time reminding the Church of all the bigoted opinions against her. They call out people and condemn them for judging “the spiritual path of other believers who are dedicated to pleasing God and blessing people,” and then they blast the traditional church in the most disgusting of ways.

People want the Church to solve social problems, but should the Church get involved in social justice initiatives, it is criticised for being ‘too political,’ and ‘imposing a belief system where it does not belong.’ The Church is too rich they say – but take a vow of poverty and you’re mental. I don’t know, but maybe the world would rather She destroy the priceless art and buildings that are entrusted to Her care? Or would they rather the Church put an end to all Her charity work? Perhaps those people who consider themselves so enlightened would care to remember the Church *started* universities and has contributed in the most unparalleled of ways to universal education… maybe they have forgotten the contribution She has made to Science and the Arts?

No, they haven’t forgotten, but they choose to remain blissfully unaware of anything that questions their bias and any opinion that could render them ACTUALLY non-conformist. That’s why a great (young!) priest told his parishioners that we ‘need to stand up for the Catholic genius, with intellectual vigour and moral courage – clothed in holiness.’

See, the Church when looked at as a ‘cure-all’ solution is always going to fail, but no other institution has this burden thrust upon them.

Maybe if the same people mocking and sighing put as much time and effort into actually learning what the Church teaches as they do whinging, they’d learn that despite all the sins of Her past, despite the abominable sins of the minority of clergy as of late, and despite all Her warts, the Church is a divine institution. She teaches truth, and despite all Her persecution, this teaching has been constant, as promised by the only Son of God.

Let’s not forget that you and I are the Church – we are the members of the mystical body of Christ. Let’s fix what we see in the mirror, because only Saints can fulfil the vision for the world that so many have.  We can hardly critique the Bride of Christ if we ourselves aren’t perfect, huh?

... a skateboarding friar. Your argument

is invalid.

True Love is Intolerant

People often look at Christians and think “why the intolerance? Don’t you Catholics claim to be all about ‘love’ and ‘charity’? You’re all a bunch of hypocrites.”

To those people, I have this to say: yes, I am intolerant. Yes, I am also a hypocrite. What I am not, though, is uncharitable.

Fact is, if somebody you held dear to you said: “I tolerate you,” you’d probably be taken aback and insulted, wondering what warranted them to feign affection while actually telling you they feel the same about you as that ghastly mole they haven’t yet removed or the annoying barking Chihuahua next door. If this is the case, why do we allow ourselves to be convinced tolerance is a virtue?

True love is intolerant. It is intolerant of all enemies towards love. In the same way that a loving father is intolerant of any evil that affects his child, love does not give up in the face of enemies but fights with all its strength.

The Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen tells us the following:

"Christian love bears evil, but it does not tolerate it. It does penance for the sins of others, but it is not broadminded about sin.

Why is this? Because…

Real love involves real hatred: whoever has lost the power of moral indignation and the urge to drive the buyers and sellers from the temples has also lost a living, fervent love of Truth.

Charity, then, is not a mild philosophy of "live and let live"; it is not a species of sloppy sentiment.  Charity is the infusion of the Spirit of God, which makes us love the beautiful and hate the morally ugly."

Fact is, Jesus was not a ‘nice’ person. He was all-loving, He was the ultimate teacher and the ultimate servant king, but He wasn’t ‘nice.’ Jesus loves you – but He’s also willing to tie a millstone around your neck. That’s why I love Him.

I love Him because He is the truth, and as the truth, He is unchanging AND He is intolerant – we need only look at His reaction to those who turned His temple into “a place for thieves” as evidence of this.

Tolerance is not for the loving, it is for the lazy and self-serving. Tolerance is not the ‘virtue’ of those willing to sacrifice. It has no interest in the well-being of others, only in avoiding sacrifice in order to remain comfortable. Our Pope-Emeritus Benedict XVI reminds us: “the ways of the Lord are not comfortable, but we were not created for comfort, but for greatness.”

Greatness. That means being willing to be nailed to a Cross for one’s friends, and especially for one’s enemies, because Love Himself was nailed to a Cross. Tolerance would simply smile and nod and grit its teeth but ultimately do nothing to reconcile man to God. On the other hand – Love died for us. Greatness means calling out falsehood and sin and facing possible persecution, tolerance simply means watching truth be abused and mocked. Even if the tolerant do not participating in evil, allowing evil for the sake of convenience and a false sense of security with the status quo is simply a way of allowing evil to triumph.

Real love bears all things, but it does not allow all things. It believes all things, but it does not remain inside itself. It hopes for all things, but does not wait in the corner. Real love endures all things and steps beyond itself through sacrifice.

Tolerance is cowardice. It is a pathetic and cheap substitute for real love. It washes its hands clean of the death of the innocent and the slaughtering of truth in order to “keep the peace.” Love is brave and unwilling to compromise. Love is synonymous with taking up the Cross and following Him, even to Calvary. Mother Teresa, acknowledged by even secular society as one of the 21st century’s most famous pacifists warns us: "Love to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self."

Jesus did not simply tolerate us. He loved us and suffered for us, He gave Himself in order than we may be saved, and He loves us despite our sin and brokenness. That is love, that is greatness – and there is no talk of tolerance in that. This greatness came at a cost, and comfort was definitely not part of the deal when He who rules the Heavens and the Earth was nailed to a cross after being tortured and abused, and even after giving all He could give, made Himself captive in all the tabernacles of the world, neglected and abandoned, for love.

Still happy with being ‘tolerated?’

“Interfice errorem, diligere errantem” – “Kill the sin, love the sinner”
― St. Augustine