Thoughts on the New Roman Missal

 

Back when I was a child and learning to read, I sat down with a copy of Stevenson’s Treasure Island intended for young readers. I thoroughly enjoyed it: the characters came alive, and I got the basic narrative.

 

A couple years later, I sat down with the original, unabridged book, and fell in love with it to an even greater degree. The characters were even more complex, and the story was more detailed and complete. There is a depth of meaning in the original that cannot be matched by a summation of ideas and themes.

 

I’ve spent considerable time with the new translation, and I could have told you before yesterday that the translation would benefit all the faithful in regard to its literary merit. Translation though it is (all translations being imperfect), that the revision seeks to stick as closely as possible to the Latin text allows us to maintain a poetic quality we simply didn’t have before. I could write another post on the concept of “dynamic equivalence” through which our previous translation came to us, but suffice it to say that whenever we isolate one meaning in the name of clarity, we cut out other potential realities.

 

The old translation was always meant to be a transitional one, and now it’s as if the English world has taken off its training wheels. The new translation assumes that we’re mature and smart enough to handle elevated, poetic language, and I cannot help but wonder why the typical wailing-and-gnashing-of-teeth crowd misses this for the liberation it is.

 

Again, I could tell you all of this before yesterday.

 

What I could not tell you before yesterday was just how beautiful it would be to publicly celebrate this new translation. No one is able to anticipate beauty, and the act of anticipation in this regard tends to end in something short of awe. I went in expecting an edifying experience through the language, and left struck by the grandeur of God. The elevated language combined with the chant contained within the Roman Missal — and we’re using that chant liberally from here on out at my parish — was like receiving a breath of fresh air. As one Traditionalist friend in his mid-twenties said after Mass, “It felt like I actually went to church today!”

 

Of course, as is the case with anything new, there’s a tendency for us to become overly excited by a break in the routine. Undoubtedly, the new translation will become old hat very quickly. But again, that’s where the language comes in: if we pay attention to its depth, to its multitude, we will continue to see the beauty of the Church’s prayer.

 

Blog Necromancer!

I’m back! And hopefully for good this time.

Truth be told, my writer’s itch gets scratched through weekly homily composition. Writing a homily is a lot like blogging: they both center around fact-analysis in an attempt to relate something the writer deems important enough for the audience to hear. Plus, giving a homily is more immediately gratifying, as reactions to what you say prove whether or not you’ve missed the mark.

Homiletics makes it difficult to blog. Before all, blogging should be fun, and one should have some latitude to write on whatever he or she chooses. But as a priest, I feel like my blog should have theological content above all; and yet, at the end of the day I don’t feel like writing about theology, since I spend all day surrounded by it either in private study, prayer, ministry, or homiletics.

So, as a sort of Advent resolution, I’ve resolved to just plain write on whatever. Writing is good for me, no matter how it comes or where it goes.

At any rate, I am — once again — back.

 

BONUS! BONUS! BONUS! ARTWORK! ARTWORK! ARTWORK!

Prints available upon request.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

In recent years, many have eulogized the “death of the narrative” in an age where cinematic focus has shifted from story to CGI-driven action.

It strikes me as a fair charge, given the major movies I’ve seen this summer: both Captain America and Conan the Barbarian utilize narrative to bring the viewer to the point of action, rather than the other way around. (And really… Who goes into a movie like Conan expecting anything less?)

On Monday evening, I was expecting more of the same with Rise of the Planet of the Apes. My expectations for the latest Planets installment ran low, as I expected a similar breed of mindless action that drove the the 2001 remake.

I left the theater pleasantly surprised. Rise avoids the camp of the originals, and it does not lean heavily on action to hold the audience. What action there is, is there for a reason.

Since I run the risk of ruining the movie by commenting further, let me simply end by recommending this movie to all. Even if you despise the Planet of the Apes franchise, give this one a try.

Planet of the Apes: “A”

Captain America: “C+”

Conan the Barbarian: “B”

Cheers and Jeers: The Chromebook and iCloud

Cheers: The Chromebook

I’ve been doing a lot of tech reading recently, as I’m particularly interested in cloud technologies as a potential solution for one of the biggest hassles I deal with every day: data access across multiple systems.

I think a Chromebook is in my future. The battery life is incredible. Everything’s done on the cloud in ways that are not OS/software dependent, which means I can slide easily from one system to the next. It certainly seems like the best solution for me at this point, rather than using drop boxes or constantly retrieving files manually across multiple systems. Do it in the cloud, save it in the cloud, print it from the cloud.

Mind you, I’d never dream of using such a device as my primary computer. I wouldn’t even think to use it as my primary laptop. But as a tertiary system — which isn’t so far-fetched in the age of tablets — it would do nicely for basic tasks. Combine an incredible battery life on the Samsung model with an 8-10 second bootup time, and it’s looking a lot like a feasible alternative to a netbook or tablet.

But what about network access?

The only consistent criticism of the Chromebook is that it is a “brick” when not connected to the Internet. Setting aside the fact that offline access to Google Docs is on the way, I have a sincere question born out of nearly 30 years of computing, 17 of which have been spent on the Internet:

Nowadays, isn’t any computer pretty much a brick when it isn’t connected to the Internet?

Sure, you can fire up a quick game of solitaire, or work on a project through your word processor.* But think about how, for the past ten or so years, your life has come to a halt by network outages in your home. Do doors open? Do family members yell to one another about the Internet being down?

Think about how booting up your device without Internet access makes you feel like the computer is somehow missing something absolutely essential to its function. I started out with computers in an age where only my fellow hardcore nerds were really interested in them; PC use didn’t really “mainstream” until we started getting all of those AOL coasters in the mail, opening the door for an (albeit stunted) introduction to web browsing and email.

All of that aside: it’s a computer for the cloud. Shouldn’t we expect it to be severely handicapped when disconnected from the cloud?

Jeers: iCloud

Likewise, shouldn’t we expect something with the name iCloud to… actually operate in the cloud?

Let me be clear: with the exception of making your pictures accessible across devices (for 30 days, and then only 1,000 of them), Apple’s iCloud does nothing in the cloud.

The concept of a cloud is rather simple when we’re looking at user-end data. I upload something and it sits in the cloud until I need it again, either on this or another device. When I need it, I copy that file to the original or alternative device.

Easy as that.

But that’s not what iCloud does for music. Software scans your music collection  against the iTunes server, then allows you to access your music collection by re-downloading it from the iTunes store. That’s not a cloud: that’s a sync. And they’ll be charging you $25 a year for the honor of doing something  iTunes should have been capable of years ago, all licensing worries aside.

I’ve been an iTunes user for at least ten years. I have a great collection of classical CD’s I transferred to MP3 format some time ago, as well as a roaring collection of Grateful Dead bootlegs. And because these songs aren’t available on the iTunes music store, “iCloud” cannot accommodate my needs between PC and iPhone.

One can’t help but note the irony, however: Apple is masterful when it comes to keeping things proprietary (which is why their devices work so well), and even with the concept of the cloud, they’re continuing that tradition.

Goodbye iTunes (and eventually the iPhone). Hello Google Music and Android.

_____
* All of which Google’s Chrome OS can already do, or will be able to do in the near-future.

Tofino

Tofino (Redux)

A brother priest surveys the open water.

The Pope Tweeted!

Awesomeness. I actually saw the Tweet “live,” or about as live as it gets. Which is amazing, since I pay attention to Twitter just about as much as I do wheat commodities.

At least one of the papal grunts saved the Holy Father from the terror of actually typing out that message on a tablet of any kind.

Elizabeth Scalia…

…has, over the past couple of years, become one of my favorite writers. Mind you, when I say “favorite writers” I think of people like William Blake. Bl. John Paul II. Oscar Wilde. Flannery O’Connor. You get the picture: Scalia is just plain good.

Check out her latest, “Illuisions of Equality,” to see what I mean.

She maintains an uncanny ability to exist within the world of St. Blogs (and the blogosphere in general) without becoming insufferably negative about her particular hobby horses (which we all have). Scalia can take a decision or issue she clearly disagrees with and cut to the heart of the matter, displaying both her knowledge and tendency toward prayerful contemplation. We don’t always agree on everything, but I always love the way she says it.

So consider this a fan letter should you ever see it, Elizabeth, and keep writing for yourself and for us!

Tofino

Tofino

Tofino

Tofino

In Tofino, B.C.
Beautiful weather. No bugs. Overcast skies, mountains, and rain forest.
Loving it.

Nesting Mallard

Nesting Mallard

My dad found this gal nesting outside his front door.

Organ

Organ

La Pieta + Angel

Mary

Votive Angel

I Hereby Declare Sunday, May 22nd…

…Bad Theologians Day!

And I even offer a song, so everybody dance!

 

Back in the Homily Game…

…after a couple weeks off. Longer than normal, the readings just happened to touch a hobby horse of mine (and, no doubt, Pope Benedict XVI as well). (PDF)

Spring in Illinois

Danada Forest Preserve

Today it’ll be around 80 degrees.
Spring in Illinois is a three-day affair.

Is it the Shire…

Danada Forest Preserve

…or a highly processed digital image of Illinois?
Photoshop lies.

Samantha

Sam

My beagle. One of my favorite shots, because this is the Greta Garbo of dogs in terms of how little she wilfully tolerates the camera.

La Pieta

BVM Statue

A cheap pieta I have in my room, made quite beautiful by my camera and a proper processing of the RAW image file.
Next time, though, I’ll remember to dust it off.

How to Make an Awesome Confession

Everybody’s looking to improve their game, right? Well, after hearing well over 1,000 confessions by now, I thought I’d craft a post on how you can make your next confession even better.

I should note before I begin that every confession is great, and that there’s no such thing as a “bad” confession as long as you’ve come to the Sacrament with a contrite heart. So if you read these tips and think to yourself, “I’ve been making some bad confessions!,” fear not: it’s pretty hard to do, unless you don’t take any of it seriously.

I should also note that the first tip largely assume you’re in a confessional box — a “sin bin,” as I call it — at a designated time, standing in line and waiting for your turn. There is at least one other way to make an awesome confession, which I address near the end of this post.

*****

Tip #1 – The Devil’s in the Details.

The awesome confessions I hear begin something like this:

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession. I accuse myself of the following: I lied twice, I hosted uncharitable thoughts against my neighbor six times, I have failed on numerous occasions to be charitable to my husband…”

What’s lacking here is the word — indeed, even the sentiment of the word — “because.” Whenever you confess, the reasons for your failures aren’t pertinent to your confession. However, they are pertinent to the spiritual life; sin, like any other imperfect thought, any other emotion we have, should prompt rational discourse. The “because” matters to us because the ultimate aim is growth in holiness, which is only obtainable if we understand the reasons behind our failure. Strictly speaking, however, the “because” is not important within the context of confession.

In fact, I’d even venture so far as to say that the “because” is potentially harmful in confession. When we discuss how we lack charity towards a neighbor, for example, the tendency is to exonerate ourselves, or to lessen our own culpability somehow:

“I lacked charity towards my neighbor because it’s just so hard to get along with them when they keep their yard looking like a scene from Animal House.”

The tendency with humankind from the Fall forward has been to scapegoat, to create allibi: “She made me do it!,” says Adam. Of course, God sees through the bologna Adam tells himself. Within the context of the Sacrament with our souls laid bare, we should be on guard against the temptation to justify ourselves.

Traditionally, this is known as confession by “number and kind.” There’s something beautiful in a simplistic declaration of guilt. When we list number and kind, we say, “I did this!” and nothing else matters. We escape the temptation to feel sorry for ourselves when we courageously take responsibility for what we’ve done, the details be damned — literally.

 

Tip #2 – Your Sins Are Boring.

I’m as guilty of it as you are: every one of us thinks our sins are the worst in the world. We come in and confess them with a hesitant nervousness, as if what we’ve done is the worst the priest will ever hear.

I know that feeling as a penitent, even when — on an intellectual level — I know there’s nothing extraordinary about how I’ve sinned.

But as a priest, I also know this: sin is boring. It’s humdrum. It’s the most common thing in the world. There’s no sin you could possibly reveal that would cause me to raise an eyebrow, or start throwing things around, or get me angry. In order to do that, I’d have to turn a blind eye to my own sin, and it’s always before me. Nothing you say in that confessional should cause you any anxiety to simply kick out there. I may throw out a challenge for you, but that’s always in the form of encouragement rather than me being surprised or moved in any way.

You know what causes my eyebrows to perk up in the confessional? Virtue. Whenever someone mentions how they’ve made progress in an area, or when they note how they’ve grown in a certain way, that’s extraordinary. That’s interesting!

The point here: if you realize that your sins will make me yawn long before they’re going to shock or surprise me, then you’ll relax and make an awesome confession.

 

Tip #3 – Make Use of a Guided, “Spiritual Direction” Confession.

As promised above, I thought I’d talk a little bit about where Tip #1 does not necessarily apply: within the context of a guided, spiritual direction-type confession.

Usually, these are not going to take place within the context of your parish’s regular confession times. They’re the “by appointment only” types, which every priest should be open to scheduling in addition to the regularly scheduled time he spends in the sin bin.

The purpose of such a confession is to solicit more feedback and spiritual help from the priest, perhaps asking him for tips or areas of guidance in one or more areas. These kind of confessions take longer, but they’re extremely helpful when we’re facing some kind of spiritual impasse. These confessions allow you to go into the level of detail that just isn’t possible during a regularly scheduled confession time. I find them to be personally helpful myself, and take advantage of this form with regularity.

*****

So there you have it: three simple tips to make your confessions awesome. As previously stated, every confession is a wonderful thing, but we can always hope for continued growth!

 

The Little Things…


Popener!

Brought back for yours truly, on the occasion of the beatification of Bl. John Paul II. Long live the Holy Father!