Coming Out from Under the ‘Rona, Etc.

Yesterday we commemorated the immaculate conception of Our Lady in the womb of her mother, St. Anne.

The festivities began on the eve of the Solemnity, at Heinz Field in Pittsburgh, with the NFL upset of the year. Team-formerly-known-as-Redskins solidly defeated the league-leading, as-yet-unbeaten Pittsburgh team. 🙂

Then our Holy Father paid a quiet visit to the statue of the Immaculata at the base of the Spanish Steps in Rome.

The pope gave us a letter about St. Joseph. The letter has a couple paragraphs about fathering…

Being a father entails introducing children to life and reality. Not holding them back, being overprotective or possessive, but rather making them capable of deciding for themselves, enjoying freedom and exploring new possibilities. Perhaps for this reason, Joseph is traditionally called a “most chaste” father. That title is not simply a sign of affection, but the summation of an attitude that is the opposite of possessiveness.

Chastity is freedom from possessiveness in every sphere of one’s life. Only when love is chaste, is it truly love. A possessive love ultimately becomes dangerous: it imprisons, constricts and makes for misery.

God himself loved humanity with a chaste love; he left us free even to go astray and set ourselves against him. The logic of love is always the logic of freedom, and Joseph knew how to love with extraordinary freedom. He never made himself the center of things…

When fathers refuse to live the lives of their children for them, new and unexpected vistas open up. Every child is the bearer of a unique mystery that can only be brought to light with the help of a father who respects that child’s freedom… When he sees that his child has become independent and can walk the paths of life unaccompanied, he becomes like Joseph, who always knew that his child was not his own but had merely been entrusted to his care.

In every exercise of our fatherhood, we should always keep in mind that it has nothing to do with possession, but is rather a “sign” pointing to a greater fatherhood. In a way, we are all like Joseph: a shadow of the heavenly Father.

Today would have been my dear dad’s 83rd birthday. May he rest in peace.

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Public service announcement. If you catch the coronavirus, how do you know when to end your isolation?

I have had to find an answer to this question, and I have learned something. I think the general public remains confused on this. (I know I was.)

Testing does not help, when it comes to determining when to end coronavirus isolation. I spent fourteen days in isolation. My symptoms had long since gone away. But I didn’t want to expose anyone to possible infection. I went to the CVS drive-thru and swabbed my own nostrils twice–and got two positive results. 😦 Finally, I got wise and talked to my doctor.

I should have talked to him three weeks ago. Turns out, in October the Center for Disease Control eliminated testing from their criteria for determining when to end coronavirus-patient isolation. The fact is, positive tests continue for months, even long after you’re no longer sick or infectious.

If you catch the virus and never experience severe symptoms, the CDC recommends discontinuing isolation ten days after the symptoms first appeared, provided you have at least 24 hours without a fever.

(Good Lord willing, dear reader, you will get immunized before you ever need to take this information into account.)

Goodbye, Dear Old Friend

In early summer, 1991, your unworthy servant sat in a crowded classroom, in the 1300 block of H Street, Northwest, Washington.

Everyone undertaking to obtain a District-of-Columbia taxicab driver’s license had to sit through such a class.

Twenty Pakistanis and a handful of Ugandans surrounded me. A black American, a native Washingtonian like myself, was sharing with us his insights from decades of experience as a Washington cabbie.

“You want to talk up your fare a little, to see if they want to chat or not. No politics. Too controversial. Could lead to an argument, then you lose your tip.

“What’s the best subject to bring up? The least controversial?”

An eager Pakistani raised his hand, “The weather?”

“No. That’s too controversial, too. Some like it when it’s hot. Others prefer the winter. No. The one thing you can always bring up, to see if they want to start a conversation is… the Redskins.”

The word Redskins stirs some of my earliest memories.  The sound of my father saying the word rests in the part of my mind where I first learned the distinctive intonations of his voice.

The sound of of him saying words like “Mark,” “bedtime,” “dinner,” “ice cream,” “your little brother,” “mom,” and “Redskins”–all those sounds linger in the dreamy realm of my mind, with all the earliest sensory impressions. My father said those words over and over and over again, while I was learning how to use my ears.

In the 1970’s and 80’s, Washington, D.C., was a city of black and white. Mostly black, some white. We had the Redskins in common.

We all loved both Joe Theismann and Art Monk; we all rooted equally for Doug Williams and Mark Moseley. In case you don’t know: white, black, black, and white, respectively, those players.

We had race problems in our city, serious ones. But the Redskins allayed them, soothed them. We had political problems, big time. The Redskins eclipsed them.

(Not to be overly rosy about this: My parents had marital problems, and the Redskins certainly exacerbated those. They weren’t alone in that, among Washington couples.)

In those days, the Redskins managed to win games with some regularity. They went to Superbowls, and even won them.

So this is not an exaggeration: In Washington, D.C., in the 1970’s, 80’s, and early 90’s, the word Redskins was the #1 touchstone for bringing people together in casual communication. Number one. The word Redskins had unrivaled preeminence as the common coin of our little realm, when it came to friendly exchanges and relationship building.

And now we must say goodbye to that precious old heirloom. Why bother pointing out facts like: In its original nineteenth-century usage, Redskin did not have a pejorative connotation. To demean a native American, you used the word Injun. Redskin referred to an enemy, to be sure. But a formidable, brave, and crafty enemy.

Or: To this day, the majority of native Americans polled on this question take no offense at the name.

No point bringing any of that up. I’m not arguing here. The argument, apparently, is over.

This is a eulogy. For one of the oldest, dearest friends my family has had, and many families like ours. A eulogy for a friend that the whole city had, back in far-happier Redskins days. Under the previous owner.

Those of us who remember those days: we have kept hoping for their return. Even through the painful two decades we have recently suffered. We hoped for good Redskins seasons, someday. And we held onto that hope for good reason.

To have known the sweet familiarity of the word Redskins then, exchanged by people of different races, from back seat to front seat, in a 1990 Chevrolet Caprice Classic, serving comfortably as a DC cab; to have known the word as the touchstone of friendliness it was: that has meant never giving up hope that the Redskins could get good again. That the Redskins could cheer us up again. Bring us together again.

It hurts an awful lot to have to give up that hope now. Goodbye, Redskins. Farewell, old friend. We aging Washingtonians will never meet your like again.

Teenage Adventures

Super-Bowl-XXII MVP Doug Williams

Today we keep the 130^th anniversary of the holy death of St. John Bosco. Among many other accomplishments, Don Bosco published an apologetics magazine. Catholic Readings defended Catholic faith and practice, using extensive Scripture citations. To protect and fortify the souls of teenage boys, Don Bosco became a famous media mogul. He is the first canonized saint ever to have been interviewed by a newspaper reporter.

Now, speaking of teenage boys… Today we also mark the 30^th anniversary of the greatest of all the Super Bowls, number XXII, which took place under the open sky, in San Diego, California.

In those simpler times, the late 1980’s, it could come to pass that a middle-class lawyer in Washington, D.C., might find himself in possession of two Super Bowl tickets, through a business connection. He might think of giving those two precious tickets to his enterprising 17- and 15-year-old sons.

Those sons might buy cheap airplane tickets with their part-time-job money. They might learn the San Diego public transit system. The boys might, with their own eyes, then behold Doug Williams the Great making mincemeat of the Denver Broncos defense, in a resounding 42-10 MVP performance. The boys might have seats right behind the very end-zone in which the Washington Redskins scored five touchdowns in the second quarter. Then, the young men might catch a bus to the airport, then a red-eye flight back east, and find themselves in school before the first bell rang on Monday morning—which was the one stipulation their mother made in order to grant her permission for the trip.

Such adventures could happen in 1988, and they did. In those days, we did not suffer from as much fear of the outdoors as we do now. I’m not sure the world was really any safer then. But dads like ours had faith in Providence, so they weren’t afraid to let their teenage sons travel clear across the country on their own, to go to the Super Bowl. Also, my brother and I were tall and big and maybe a little cleverer than most 17- and 15-year-olds.

Anyway, Don Bosco knew that publishing his magazine involved risking his life. Mid-19^th-century Italy was no safe place for a well-known zealous Catholic priest. In those days, people got beat up in the streets for defending the papacy. But Don Bosco prized the souls of his young readership over his own mortal life.

Faith in Jesus’ Father can, and does, give you the kind of courage that can turn life into an adventure.

From Advent Part I to Advent Part II

Today the “first part” of Advent concludes. Tomorrow, the truly frantic Christmas shopping begins.

Seriously, though. Everybody know that the season of Advent has two parts? During the first part, at Holy Mass each day, we have prayed and read Scripture passages about the coming of Christ considered as a whole.

He came as the long-awaited Messiah, fulfilling the prophecies of old. He came to reveal the eternal plan of God for our salvation, inaugurating the New and eternal Covenant for the forgiveness of sins. He came in mystery, veiled in human flesh, in order to prepare us for the final consummation, when His glory will fill the earth.

The pre-eminent message of Advent, Part I? Repent! And the pre-eminent messenger? The star of Advent, Part I, so to speak? John the Baptist.

And the star of Advent, Part II? James Earl Jones, of course, doing the voice of Darth Vader again, after over 30 years! Just kidding.

During the second part of Advent, we pray and read about the events preceding the Nativity of Christ in Bethlehem. Advent, Part II, has numerous stars, including St. Joseph, Elizabeth, Zechariah, the actual star itself, shining over Bethlehem…But who is the pre-eminent Lady of the days before Christmas? The Blessed Virgin Mary, of course.

May she intercede to help the Washington Redskins on Monday Night Football. And may she lead us all to a merry Christmas day.

St. Jude and Balaam’s Animal

As we hear at today’s Holy Mass, the Lord Jesus chose Saints Simon and Jude as two of His twelve Apostles.

St. Jude eventually wrote a letter to the Christian faithful, which can be found in the New Testament; it is the next-to-last book of the Bible.

In his letter, St. Jude tells us to avoid “Balaam’s error.”

[Imagine you’re in Catholic school and the priest is asking you…] Anyone ever been sitting watching t.v., or playing a video game, and mom says, “Time to do this!” or dad says, “Time to do that?” Anybody ever been in a group of friends, and someone starts talking about another person behind his or her back, making fun of that person? Anyone ever been working on schoolwork, and then suddenly a friend calls or shows you something, or you do a web-search, and suddenly there’s a quick and dirty way to print out something to turn in, even though it’s not really my own work at all?

Balaam was an ancient priest, way before Jesus came and gave us the Mass, way before the Temple in Jerusalem was even built. Balaam lived in what is now the Holy Land, before the Israelites came back from Egypt. One of the pagan kings wanted Balaam to sacrifice to the gods and then curse the people of Israel.

Balaam knew that it was not the right thing to do. He knew that God had chosen the Israelites to form a covenant with the human race. So, at first, Balaam refused.

But the pagan king tried to sweeten the deal. He put more pressure on Balaam. “Come on. Curse the Israelites! I will make it worth your while.”

So Balaam hedged. He knew it was wrong, but he thought, “Well, let me just go and see the king, and we’ll see what happens.” He thought maybe he could compromise between right and wrong, and that way he could have his cake and eat it, too. He could be holy and popular. He could be righteous and rich.

So Balaam got on his donkey to go to the king. But once they got on the road, the donkey kept swerving off to the side. So Balaam beat the donkey mercilessly. “Come on, animal!” Then the donkey kept lying down in the road. So Balaam beat the donkey more, and yelled at it.

Then a miracle occurred, and the donkey spoke, and more or less said, “Look, man. Even I, a donkey, know that you are not doing the right thing. When it comes to doing the will of God, and avoiding sin, you can’t compromise. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble here.”

No compromises with temptation. Our own donkeys will have it over us, if we think we can please both God and the devil at the same time.

***

My brother wore his RG III jersey on CNBC this morning! Yea ‘Skins! Monday Night Football, October 27, 2014, will go down in history.

Two Types of Perpetual Dissatisfaction

“We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.” Luke 7:32

Two kinds of perpetual dissatisfaction: Holy unhappiness and un-holy unhappiness.

Life can be long and hard. Not all food tastes good. Not everyone who sings sings well. Some drivers evidence no concern for the fact that I am in a hurry. Not everyone knows or cares when it’s my birthday. Sometimes it rains when I’m supposed to go on a picnic.

Nonetheless: Every day I get to gaze upon the wonder of God’s creation. God gives me daily bread and, for today, keeps me out of a lonely, dusty grave. Interesting people and attractive opportunities beckon from just around the corner.

Un-holy unhappiness comes from not wanting to bother to lift up my eyes to everything the good God is trying to give me. Then all I can do is feel sorry for myself and spend my mental energy criticando la gente, even though I have a wooden beam in both of my own eyes.

All that said, the Lord proclaims that those who mourn are blessed, that those who weep now will laugh in the kingdom of God. Those who mourn and weep because this world is not God. And it is nowhere near what it should be, because of the sins of mankind. And I am nowhere near what I should be, because of my sins. Who could really be happy in this cloudy world, even if he or she owned everything–but did not have God?

I mean, like I was trying to say on Sunday: Sure, a guy can enjoy oneself kicking back and watching the Washington Redskins whip up on the poor Jacksonville Jaguars. A guy can enjoy seeing my man Kirk Cousins finally get his chance to show the world that he is the superior quarterback. Sure.

But it isn’t perfect; it isn’t heaven; it isn’t the be-all and end-all.

The only real be-all and end-all dwells on the other side of a veil. Only the power of Jesus Christ can penetrate the veil. None of us will really be satisfied until He catapults us through it, by His unimaginable spiritual power.

May God preserve us from un-holy unhappiness by stoking within us the fires of raging dissatisfaction with anything less than God.

Redskins Redskins Redskins Redskins Redskins Redskins Redskins

Jeopardy! Battle of the Decades involves the most-successful Jeopardy! contestants ever. The most bone-crushingly excellent trivia masters living in our humble nation.

So: Final Jeopardy! Category: Supreme Court Decisions. Clue: “On Dec. 20, 1956 the Court’s ruling on Browder v. Gayle went into effect, bringing an end to this 381-day event.”

Now, you and I immediately think: Okay, Browder v. Gayle doesn’t mean much to me… But: 381-day event concluding in December, 1956? Easy. What is the Montgomery Bus Boycott?

Admittedly, the clue could have read, ‘The event that made Rosa Parks famous.’ Then all three of the blistering geniuses probably would have written the correct response. But, as it was, none of them got it! Three of the most mind-like-a-steel-trap people in America, and none of them wrote down the correct response!

I was beside myself. We Americans may be smart and use our iPhones dextrously. But we do not know any real history. We do not know the details that make it interesting.

For over a year, they walked, carpooled, hitched to work. Through all weathers. For over a year, Dr. King hung tight, insisting with an iron will that his people continue to find a way other than the bus–through a year’s worth of dark, doubtful nights, with the burden of all their hardships laying upon him.

How can the smartest people in our country not know these crucial details? The Montgomery Bus Boycott easily could have been broken–it appeared to be broken multiple times–and then where would be be? What would have become of ‘the Movement?’ How can we not know the crucial details of our proudest, most genuinely interesting moments?

…In honor of the beginning of the Redskins season, I read Francis Parkman’s book about his time with the Ogillallah Sioux. (Click HERE to read Herman Melville’s review of the book.)

Parkman wanted to grow up to write the history of the American colonists’ interactions with the natives. So, at 23, he took it upon himself to live in a wandering Dahcotah village for the summer of 1846. (Using Parkman’s spellings for the Indian words here.)

The book bears the confusing title The Oregon Trail–which it is not about. But Parkman can write like nobody’s business. He offers an intimate portrayal of his companions. Not exactly sympathetic. But evocative, realistic, and utterly gripping.

These particular prairie Redskins adorned themselves with the body parts of their slain enemies. To attain manhood meant taking someone’s scalp. The warriors treated their multiple squaws like domestic slaves, prone to divorce them on any pretext whatever. In other words, they were tough as hell. And had a worldview somewhat like ISIS.

God forbid that I would ever cheer for a team called the “Washington N***ers.” But the idea that ‘Redskins’ carries similar connotations–that idea cannot withstand any scrutiny of the actual facts of history. The history of the word ‘Redskin’ is completely different. And, these days, the term has no common usage whatsoever.

Except to refer to the most lovable sports franchise in the history of the world!

Baptized Burgundy and Gold

Redskins picked up defensive end Jason Hatcher from the Cowboys. Doc Walker, the St. Thomas Aquinas of NFC-East theology, determined that this required a baptism.

—

Oscar Wilde got a lot of comic mileage out of re-christenings in The Importance of Being Earnest. I don’t think Doc intends anything sacrilegious. Football may not involve divine grace, but it does require commitment.

David Recovering

Kind David enjoyed a sparkling early life. With God’s help, he slew Goliath. He ascended the throne of Judah in a thoroughly honorable fashion. He played the harp and danced to the glory of God. He brought the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem as the people exulted with joy. David commanded a powerful army and ruled an extensive kingdom. What could go wrong?

Well, lust. Dishonesty. Malice. The king lost his way spiritually. His own son rebelled against him. David had to flee for his life.

Now, Peyton Manning had a rough night on Sunday.* But it was nothing compared to what King David went through late in life.

Bad as things got, though, David never lost his fundamental sense of right and wrong. When he had sinned, he knew it. And he admitted it. He never lost the humility of the shepherd boy he had been. Even at his lowest, David trusted in and revered God.

In other words, David never became self-centered. So, when his son was killed, even though Absalom had betrayed him, David wept. David had committed grave sins, but he never became hard-hearted. He would rather have died than see his son die, even though Absalom had been gunning brazenly for David’s life.

Reverence for God keeps us from losing our way completely, even when we make mistakes. Yes, we fall. Tell lies, do wrong, mess up our obligations.

But if we always give God His due—if we pray every day and go to church every Sunday—then He gets us back on track somehow. He keeps our hearts close to Him. When we keep our religion intact, even if we sin, we can recover from our mistakes and find the right path again.

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* The Denver Broncos have gotten whupped in the Super Bowl before, by a similar score, by an NFC team from the other Washington. Super Bowl XXII ended 42-10.

Your humble servant witnessed it firsthand, in San Diego, on January 31, 1988, with his beloved younger brother, with tickets our venerable father lucked into. The man handed his 17- and 15-year-old sons two tickets to the Super Bowl and said, “Have at it. If you can get yourselves there, and be back before the first bell at school the following morning, I can’t wait to hear about it.” That’s how we rolled back in the 80’s, peeps.

In heaven, that’s the Super Bowl that will be on.

7-6

Your positive vibes and prayers worked people!!!!
To God be the Glory!

— Robert Griffin III (@RGIII) December 10, 2012