The Arrow's Path

I have been out of sorts lately. I do not know how to describe where I have been mentally and spiritually the last few months. It's not a "dark night of the soul" kind of thing or anything like that. It's not some sort of spiritual oppression or demonic attack. (At least, I don't think it is.) It has been what I can only describe as a Jimmy Carter-style spiritual malaise. I just feel like I just don't really want anything to do with worship or things religious.   It is not like I am opposed to them or am angry about anything specifically that I know of. It is feels like when someone says, "Hey, let's go out to eat fast food and some hamburgers..." It's not that you are not hungry , or even opposed to going out to get some sort of fast food, but and you don't know what you want exactly, but all you do know is that you just don't want a hamburger. That is the way I have been feeling about Lent this year: i was hungry for something, b...

Someone sent me a question about the Pope's recent comment that went viral about God not hearing the prayers of people who invoke His name in war, or words to that effect. It was a rather long query, which largely only asked on question. The poster was saying she had Protestant friends who were using the quote to badmouth the Pope and how she should respond. I wrote up a response to the question: ________________________________________________________ Well, a few things to take into consideration here:   1. Whenever a catchy quote from a Pope is taken and run with in the media and people start losing their minds over it, it is *very important* to read the quote in the actual context of what the Pope was actually saying. I am very much in favor of always reading primary sources and not hearsay or what the media says that he said. Read it for yourself before jumping to conclusions. In this instance, it was from a homily he gave, the exact text of which you can read here ...

 I laughed really hard at this.  

     The liturgy of Palm Sunday can often seem a little disjointed. If weather permits, Mass actually opens outside the building with the Liturgy of the Palms. The priest reads from the Gospel of Matthew 21:1–11, which presents the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. This is a very joy-filled scene that brims with hope and expectation. Crowds gather. Cloaks are laid on the road. Palm branches are waved as the people cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” There is a great moment of recognition where Jesus is welcomed as the coming King and Messiah. However, as the people process into the Church, this joyful Gospel turns out to not even be the primary focus. Instead, the Church proclaims the Passion of Christ in its entirety. The liturgy starts with joyful expectation but ends with the most powerful story every told.        At first glance, the triumphal entry and the Passion seem to stand in stark contrast to each other. The beginning is marked...

The Church of England is, sadly, lost. This picture from the enthronement of the person pretending to be the Archbishop of Canterbury yesterday tells you all you need to know. The heterodox apostasy of this picture is staggering. A woman, being sworn in by the dean of Canterbury cathedral, who is himself a partnered homosexual, with a crazed feminist priestess peering over the throne...I am truly saddened.   

I had a question from a reader: I walked into Mass this morning (the 5th Sunday of Lent) and all the statues, candles, pictures and crucifixes were covered with violet cloth. It gave me the eeriest feeling of the world without God. Tonight, at a different parish, nothing is covered. What's up with this? Someone told me this is Passion Sunday. That's new to me as well. My response: This custom tacitly references the parable (if it is a parable) that Jesus tells of Lazarus and the Rich Man. The Rich Man dies and goes basically to hell (gehenna) and can see over into what the text refers to as 'Abraham's bosom' but can't get there. He can see Lazarus in paradise (the same poor beggar he walked by for years and never helped while he was alive) but he can't get to Abraham's bosom because he's permanently separated from God. He has to stand in the shadows and peer across the chasm, but can't cross over into the light. I preface that story from the...

    Have you ever found yourself in a dark place? As we come to the final regular Sunday of Lent, today’s readings for Mass speak to hope and the life that God promises to bring out of even the darkest places. These passages gradually lead us toward the powerful story of Lazarus, a moment that points ahead to the victory over death that will come in the resurrection of Christ.     In Ezekiel 37:12-14, the prophet has vision of the valley of dry bones, and we hear a striking image of hope. God tells the    prophet that the bones will live again, that He will open the graves of His people and put His Spirit within them. What first appears lifeless and beyond repair is not lost to God. With His breath, even dry bones can rise. That image speaks to the reality many of us know. At times our faith can feel dry or tired. We may feel discouraged, weighed down by sin, worry, or disappointment. As Lent draws to a close, this reading reminds us that God is always re...