Mulling over O'Connor, Copying Machines and Minutia

As an assistant in the room, my presence is only an augmentation of the learning enviornment, and some days, the pay is for dealing with difficult students. However, keeping machines on task proved far more daunting. Today, I spent the bulk of my afternoon attempting to amass and assemble copies of O'Connor's most famous short story. The first machine needed a part. The second machine (in the office), could only be used for school business, not classwork. The third copier flashed evil red lights.

With the new semester, we had six more students than versions of "A Good Man is Hard to Find," and while the students could listen to an audio verison and follow along with their phone; for annotation, they needed an incarnational version. Flannery would approve. She also knew, the way we come to understanding of all things, is suffering. I suspect she had a hand in the matter.

After twenty minutes of waiting for the office copier (There was a queue of teachers and assistants ignoring the policy), I attempted to fix the third machine by rebooting it. Much to my astonishment, the screen cooperated and I thought, "I am the master of my domain!" for the five copies of page one it spit up, before flashing the same error as before. Undeterred, I turned off the machine and rebooted again. Five more copies. I now had page two. Each page grew subsequently lighter. At seven pages long, I pressed the buttons and my luck turning the machine on and off for the subsequent five reboots before sneaking out of the copying room with my six versions of the story. I did have to trace the last page with a marker.

Leaving the machine with a red flashing light bruised my conscience, so I rebooted one more time. The next person might not need more than five copies of any one thing, and thus not find out the machine needed a serious repair. That afternoon, four students showed up having lost their versions.

I tried the staff room and planned to simply pull up a pdf of the story and have the computer print it. It did, but swallowed the last line of each story. It also printed them front to back, and flipped every other page, making the new version almost unreadable if you didn't know which way to turn for each page. I spent the rest of the period writing out the missing words of O'Connor's prose at the end of each page and wondering if the whole thing would have been easier and quicker if I'd retreated to a monastery and copied the needed documents by hand.

Having missed period five and six in the classroom, all for papers needed in period five and six, I pondered whether I could plead temporary sanity and remove all the infernal copiers to the outside, and perhaps invite all the faculty to take turns shooting the machines in the woods for being misfits. I thought it would give me great pleasure to imagine the machines being destroyed, or it would if only they could feel pain.

Somehow, the demonic desire for their demise wouldn't find any pleasure unless the copiers experienced agony, my irritation, my annoyance, and the collective pain of the staff and students. I told myself, it wouldn't be a sin, except I knew better. I wanted more than justice. I wanted revenge, and not just revenge, universal revenge for all the printers which ran out of ink, all the copiers which failed, and all the technology that made all of us slaves to their convenience, and masters of nothing.

A fellow teacher came into the staff room ranting about how the machines. He cursed them all and we agreed, Hell is littered with office machines, all unable to print or copy more than a page at a time, and with jams and no ink, and in Heaven, they don't bother with machines because everyone has a copy of the book and they can't lose it. I took satisfaction in the theological rightness of this revelation, that no technology would be saved and even better, I had no obligation to pray otherwise.  I pulled out four old Norton Anthologies which included O'Connor's story from the library for the next day. If the kids needed more copies, I'd be ready and maybe, save my own soul from spending further time in preemptive purgatory.  A good man may be hard to find, a good soul even harder, but a good copier, that's the stuff of legend.  

Worth the Wait

Most followers know that my book was originally slated to debut in May of this year.  I will tell you, I cried when the day came and went and we were still deep in the editing process.  No book.  It was okay I told myself.  I wanted the Book of Helen to be as good as possible, so this was necessary.

Waiting for something good is always an opportunity for grace.   Because we had to wait, my mother will be here the day the book is available to the public.  I get to share the experience of this book with my mom. It is a gift my heart would have asked for, but never dreamed would come true.

These sort of unexpected moments, like tomatoes you didn't plant that bring forth fruit just the same, these are the stuff of heaven, a letter in the mail, a compliment, found quarters, falling into a book you didn't expect to like, the ice cream truck driving down your street, running into a friend at the pool, and children deciding to pick up their instrument and play their hearts out, these are glimpses of heaven.

What do I mean?

Heaven is not harps and clouds and static.

Heaven is an endless reunion, where you are delighted and delightful.  Heaven is coming home to a clean house, to a cooked meal, finding the garden in bloom, seeing a meteor shower because you happen to be outside.  It isn't constant stimulation, it is constant joy.  We can't grasp it because our joy comes in moments and try as we might, and there are some committed to trying, we cannot hold such feeling, it ebbs away like an exhale or the tide pulling back.  It will come again, but not because we will it. We may orchestrate moments to try and conscript and create the sentiment, but it is a seizing when we feel joy. It does not come on command, nor does it stay confined. It is a quiet flood of happiness that often leaves us speechless. "Oh!"   I said it when I saw the ocean for the first time.  It has been uttered when children were born, when snow fell overnight, and when I tried tres leches cake for the first time.   The first response to joy is to reach to tell someone, anyone, to share the moment, joy shared is multiplied, like the loaves and the fishes.

So I'm happy.  My mom is coming to town and we'll get to share this moment.  It would have been special before this, but this makes it more special.  More joy.  My daughter asked, "What are we doing to celebrate?" and I truthfully don't know, because the celebration has in a sense already started for me.  But I get it, she wants to share in the moment and a party seems the most appropriate way to make it happen.

I'd tell you we're eating Greek food and the like, but I think we'll feast with steak fajitas and sangria, and maybe some obnoxious chocolate dessert!  Then I'm posting a note to myself with the Book of Penelope...it is the motto for the purpose of the Book of Penelope.  Worth the wait.

Thanks for sharing in this moment.  August 9th is just three days away!

Becoming Whole

In all families, civil wars occasionally erupt.  Brother against sister, North versus South, Republicans with Democrats, and even within the Catholic church itself; Catholics fight to divide what should be seamless. 

On the right, there are those who advocate a conservative close as possible to pre-Vatican II re adoption of the rules, (Kneeling only), (Women should be modest by only wearing dresses), (Latin Liturgy) and on the left, the progressive social justice crowd (works matter more than prayer or sacraments), (morals cannot be imposed or enforced but must only be discerned, meaning Saints, popes, the bible and priests are not sources of moral authority) (sacraments aren't much more than traditions that have been handed down that have created a particular culture from adopting tenets of older cultures).  All of us fall on one side or the other of that bell curve that is the total body of the Holy Catholic Church. 

The two sides in their totality can be easily spotted by the blogs and newspapers and magazines they prefer. But there's a problem with both renderings of Catholicism, neither is Catholicism.   We cannot erase half and declare ourselves whole.

We keep forgetting, Christ was both; God and man.

We are called to be like Christ.

Ergo, we are to hold sacred the gifts of the Church, her princes, the sacraments, her teachings (all of them), her relics, her traditions, her beautiful churches and her prayers, novenas, traditions and liturgical seasons.

We also are to act as if every person around us is Christ in disguise: the gay, the leper, the immigrant, the homeless, the mentally ill, the old, the disabled, the rich, the poor, the famous, the infamous, the lonely, the leaders of a political party we don't like, the radio or television talk show hosts we disagree with, the show offs, the corrupt, the prisoners and the judges, the living, the dying, the pregnant mother, the unborn child, the abortionist and the people who pray outside the clinic. There is no one, not one sinner we are not called to love.  

Christ tells us in so many of his acts in real life and in parables: We are admonished not to throw stones.  We are also commanded to go and sin no more.  We are the prodigal son and the older brother, we are Martha and Mary, we are those who wept on the road to Calvary and those who shouted "Crucify him!"  We are part of that crowd of 5000+ who received the loaves and fishes, we are also part of those who led Him off to die. 

No one should feel comfortable if they are to be Catholic. 

No one should look at that list and not at some point gulp and know that here or there, they missed the mark.  We all have a "Surely not I" moment or "Surely God doesn't mean that." There is something on the list somewhere, be it abortion, birth control, ordination of only men, selling everything and giving to the poor, taking up one's cross, washing the feet of others, going to weekly mass and to regular confession, being charitable towards some group of others, being more loving and more meek and serving than one feels, that we in our fallen flawed state rejects. 

We will have reasonable reasons and we will seek to soothe ourselves that we are only being reasonable, practical, and that God understands because He is merciful.  We will also presume that God appreciates how we are right and those other folks, be they right, left, perpetually slothful or overly mercilessly vigilant lack understanding and charity.

We have trouble because we think one must chose between Mercy and Justice.
We have trouble because we think Heaven will be peopled with people like us, or that Hell doesn't exist. 
Heaven will be peopled with people like Christ.  Hell will be peopled with people who refuse, and Purgatory will be overflowing with those of us who have not yet surrendered that part of ourselves that isn't like Christ, that refuses to exercise both charity and truth, prayer and service, to be both Martha and Mary to those around us. 

One side holds on to symbols and rigidity of custom, that truth is rooted in the past, the other views everything as fluid and subject to the fashionable philosophic musings of the day.  We shortchange our own hearts and minds with moral and mental blinders that let us only view one faucet of Him.
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This is the cure to all our squabbles, to all our strife.

We have the body and blood of Christ.  Christ's essence, like the Church's essence, is solid, is real, is always the bread that becomes the body.  We do not get to cut the consecrated host we consume. We must take it all, in full knowledge that we are forever not worthy to receive, but by God's mercy, God's love, we are allowed.  Christ's blood is fluid, but it is always wine that becomes his sacred blood.  Likewise, we are to pour ourselves out to others beyond what we thought possible.  

We aren't called to be at ease with ourselves, only at peace. We are called to trust in Christ's mercy but to work with the full knowledge that we must serve and serve and serve and still, we will not be worthy of this great gift. On our own, our hearts are too small to hold all of Christ, so we must allow our hearts to be broken open by God, by others, by life until we have hearts with no walls.

Christ is present, in a sacred and profound mysterious way that only can be found within the mass, within the sacraments. To be Catholic, it is not all tradition or social justice.  To be Catholic, one must simply love the Eucharist above all else. It is the sole reason for being Catholic; it is only availble within the Catholic church.  If one begins this journey, to love the Eucharist, serve Him that is the Eucharist will follow. Everything else that you do, say, think and believe will follow and eventually be reordered and tempered by that fierce devotion to our Lord and become as Christ would say, as Christ would do.

Perhaps this is why Adoration is on the rise, because all of us are seeking to become whole, and know our own pitiful interpretations of our faith miss the mark.  Our whole objective in being Catholic, is to become less us, more Him.   Our whole reason for being Catholic, is to know Christ as intimately as possible, such that each of us puts ourself out to others the way He did for us so that we do not judge but love, we do not condemn but instead nurse, and we forgive.  We speak truth and speak truth and speak truth, mindful of Christ's full holding to even the last letter of the law and we forgive and forgive and forgive, mirroring Christ's mercy and complete fulfillment of those laws as they were intended, to bring us into communion with Him. 

Left and Right, Liberal and Conservative, these are adjectives and in the end, they fall away. To be Catholic is to be the Eucharist for others.

My Take On George Carlin's Death

I like George Carlin for the most part. I have always found him provocative, but not always honest. My biggest beef with the deceased? Whenever anyone complained about his jokes being offensive, he'd sideslip by explaining, "They're just words." To say they're just words is to deny the potency of their effect. If they were just words, and had no meaning save what the listener ascribed, anyone could be a writer or a comic or a playwright and make money because no one would be able to discern a good writer/creative genius from a bad one --because good and bad would be purely relative terms with no underpinning criteria.

Words do mean something. If they didn't, humor wouldn't have the effect it does. He understood the power of words, that's why his piece on the seven words you can't say is so very powerful. Someone who wrot lik thes wod b as gooder as someone who could express themselves without errors. Someone who messed up the punch line would be as successful as Jerry Seinfeild, as order of words would not matter, only that sounds issued forth. Indeed, chimps would be as successful at writing or stand up, as actual words would no longer be necessary.

Words matter. George knew it. But the common defense against criticism by anyone is "I didnt mean it or it didn't mean anything." As though intent or ascribed intent determines offense. While it is a convenient arguement, that's not the way truth or humor for that matter, works. Intent does not determine laughter. I meant for you to laugh --does not mean you must. Intent not to offend does not determine whether or not something is offensive. And George knew this. The seven words speech was designed to be both offensive and funny. It wouldn't be funny if it weren't also discussing the offensive.

What I have seen a lot of in recent internet discourse, is idea of the meeting between George Carlin and the Almighty. Those who liked his humor view God and George having a sit down and a few laughs maybe over a beer. Those who found him offensive, view George as having a bit of a warm seat.

Do I think George has been excluded from the realm of the Divine because he swore? No. Do I think he probably has some explaining to do...absoultely, but then, don't we all?

And do I think George is going to try pulling...they were only words up there? Probably not. Not with the Author of the Word. At least, not if he's as smart as I always thought he was...God has a sense of humor too. It explains apendixes, mosquitos and first dates. It explains George Carlin too. George will get his moment to feel as those who sometimes felt uncomfortable at his humor under the great mercy and justice and love of God.

God will probably explain how "just words" have an effect to George or at least require him to own up to actual reality. George will agree. Then they will have a few laughs, maybe over a beer.

George probably won't use those seven words though.