Way of Truth

The sequence of feasts following the solemnity of Christmas day has always interested me: St. Stephen, followed by St. John the Apostle; the protomartyr, and then the beloved. We turn from the magnificent joy of the Incarnation, to the seemingly savage brutality of martyrdom, and then to tender love of the Beloved. 

Another mind might have switched the feasts in order to preserve the benevolent visage of Christmas. And yet, sandwiched between the feasts that seemingly celebrate a more customary understanding of love is the Protormartyr, bludgeoned to death by those who refused to listen. St. Stephen was not an Apostle, not a wonder-worker, and for the most part, not even a particularly popular saint (especially now). But he was a man who refused to bend to the passions of the mob. The truth, for St. Stephen, was worth his life. He did not hide it. He did not run from it, and he certainly did not sugarcoat it for the sake of his listeners, and this steadfast faith to the truth cost him his life.

And yet, as St. Fulgentius observes, 

 Love inspired him to reprove those who erred, to make them amend; love led him to pray for those who stoned him, to save them from punishment. Strengthened by the power of his love, he overcame the raging cruelty of Saul and won his persecutor on earth as his companion in heaven. In his holy and tireless love he longed to gain by prayer those whom he could not convert by admonition. 

Love can only be love if it is one with truth. The feast of St. Stephen has as much to do with love, as the feasts that surround it. It is a call for Christians to take the grace of Incarnation as the foundation of truth and love, for Jesus is truth. He is love. And contrary to what we might expect from the death of St. Stephen, that love, that truth, that Jesus, is life.

Argument Over

MJ > Kobe

All. Day.

POLL WINNER: Lord of the Rings

Polls are fun; debates are even more fun. As I wrote earlier, the argumentation and investigation into our interests are what make these kinds of things fun. Coming up with narratives about Lebron vs Jordan, Coke vs Pepsi, the Office vs Brooklyn 99, or even ice cream cups vs cones has always been interesting to me. Now I was hoping that my little poll experiment would have generated more conversation, but alas, I was not clear enough with what I hoped. Either way, I hope it was fun for those who participated, and intriguing enough for others to participate in future polls. I will do my best to be as objective as I can.

Now as for the Harry Potter vs Lord of the Rings/Hobbit battle itself, the Lord of the Rings/Hobbit thrashed Harry Potter 31-19. Mr. Potter and his crew kept it as close as 1 vote for some time, but as time progressed, the Lord of the Rings ran away with the victory.



Here are a few observations:

- Most people (who I spoke to) who argue Harry Potter over Lord of the Rings cite two main arguments: the first is that Harry Potter is what they grew up reading, which makes sense, and the second is that the Lord of the Rings is boring.

- Most people who voted for Lord of the Rings thought it was stupid that I asked for an explanation

- More people appeared to be defensive about liking Harry Potter more; it reminded me of the feeling I get whenever I see someone I know while walking out of a McDonald's.

- 14 of 19 votes for Harry Potter were from women whereas only 7 of the 31 who voted for Lord of the Rings were women. What does that indicate? Nothing. I just thought I would exercise my ability to count.

- it would not be worth it to jump to conclusions about why only 7 of the 31 votes were female for Lord of the Rings, but it is interesting to think about

- all but one friend from California voted for Lord of the Rings; and I already regret writing that observation

And some other dumb insights:

- I have to say I am happy to be able to use the word eponymous in a sentence; as in: I wonder if a single eponymous character creates an intrinsic sympathy for that character.
- And the answer is yes: using the word eponymous does make me feel good about myself;
- But no, I do not think most people would get that joke.

- has anyone ever noticed that neither antagonist in each story has a nose? Voldemort being noseless and Sauron just...being....an...eye.

- Is there some sort of letter count for author's names? Many of these authors have initials for names: JRR Tolkien; JK Rowling; CS Lewis; RH Benson, DJ Jazzy Jeff

-  there a number of interesting side battles to this poll; Dumbledore vs Gandalf; Voldemort vs Sauron; the sorting hat vs Gandalf's hat

In the end, the Lord of the Rings was a clear winner. But the great thing about these kinds of debates, is that they never have to stop. In the immortal words of USC: Fight On!

Making Senses of It All

I am a week late, but do find it fitting to write on the feast of St. Nicholas, the same St. Nicholas who punched out a heretic.

The feast of St. Andrew on Nov. 30 begins a novena too little known in North America. Colloquially called the St. Andrew's Christmas Novena, it is a short prayer to be recited 15 times each day until Christmas Eve, to help prepare the soul for the coming of our Lord.

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born Of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold. In that hour vouchsafe, I beseech Thee, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires through the merits of Our Savior Jesus Christ, and of His blessed Mother. Amen.

This prayer will always have a special place in my heart because of the man who encouraged me to pray it in the first place: Father Abbot Hayes, O. Praem. And although it does have special resonance for me since it came from him, I also love this prayer because it situates my focus and attention on the very wonders, and also the very grittiness of Christianity. I love my religion because it not only soars into the heights of transcendent wisdom, it also descends upon the common place features of the natural world.

There was an hour and moment, sanctified by the presence of the Son of God for sure, but still a moment, and an hour.  There was a virgin, most pure, which speaks of the wonderful and the beautiful, but she was young, fragile and yet strong.

There was a place, an actual place, in Bethlehem, not some made up imaginary dreamland, but a place which could be touched, seen, smelled, felt. It felt cold; piercing cold. It would be easy to look at some of the beautiful nativity scenes and forget it was still a poor place: a barn or a cave. Nevertheless, it was cold. It perhaps smelled of animals, and everything that comes with being surrounded by animals.

And yet, this little child, this little baby with His mother, is God. He can be held, seen, felt, smelled, touched. The very warmth of his little body; the coos of his little voice; the gentle and yet exhausted smile of His mother; the wonder and awe of his father. This is the place of Christmas, the experience of Christmas, that God became man in the humblest of places, of times. He is beyond expectations. He is Wisdom. He is God. And when Christmas comes, we are reminded in a very real way, He is also man.