My Brother Louie

As we meditate on the Gospels, it’s only natural that we would try to imagine what the various biblical figures looked like, beginning with Our Lord Himself. One character I find especially intriguing is Zacchaeus, whose encounter with our Lord is recorded in today’s Gospel.

Whenever I think of Zacchaeus, I picture Louie De Palma, Danny DeVito’s character in the popular 1980s television series Taxi. We know that Zacchaeus was not only short, but also dishonest, despised, and resourceful. He was hardly the sort of character we might choose to emulate, any more than we would aspire to be like Louie De Palma. Yet I’d suggest that Catholic laymen do well to meditate on the call and conversion of Zacchaeus.

Perhaps the call of the rich young man is better known, so we might compare the two accounts. The rich young man keeps the commandments but wants to know what else he must do to attain eternal life. Good question! Jesus’s response–sell everything, give to the poor, and follow Him–was more than the rich young man bargained for, at least for the moment. We understand in Our Lord’s response the call to evangelical perfection, particularly as lived by consecrated persons who embrace radical lives of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

Jesus’ response to the rich young man is instructive to all of us as we strive to follow Him single-heartedly. But what about us “rich” middle-aged men, with wife, children, job, mortgage, credit-card bills, and student loans? Are we supposed to sell everything, give the proceeds to the poor, and only then follow Jesus? How does Jesus’ universal call to discipleship relate to Catholic men who are to remain “in the world,” but not of it?

Enter Zacchaeus.

Anger Management

Why is anger considered a deadly sin? After all, didn’t Christ Himself get angry at times?

Anger is unique and tricky because it is both a capital, or “deadly” sin (gravely evil) and also a passion (morally neutral, or even amoral). All human beings have passions, feelings, and emotions. The passion of anger is rightly directed toward perceived evils, and the better formed we are the more our emotional response of anger will be calibrated rightly.

For example, a saint would be angered by sin; one with less virtue might be angered by having to wait an extra minute in a shopping line. But the intellect and will must call the shots, not the anger–otherwise, we will move from passion to sin. That’s why it’s often important to cool off–if necessary and if circumstances allow–before responding to a perceived evil or injustice.

The passion of anger can and must be put to good use. We have a duty to resist evil, and so the lack of passion is a defect insofar as it would lead us to indifference toward sin.

How we deal with our anger matters greatly. Any evil that comes our way must be opposed righteously–always with the goal of fostering the salvation of souls and never to exact revenge. The crosses, abuses, and frustrations that provoke us to anger are the very stuff of our salvation. That doesn’t mean we must become doormats. However, when we seek legitimate redress we must unite ourselves more completely to Christ and gratefully welcome these opportunities to grow in grace and virtue through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Above all, we should pray fervently for those who cause us to become angry. Having a godly attitude toward them won’t necessarily change them (though it might), but we’ll find that these prayers will change us, softening our hearts but not our minds.

Our Lord was like us in all things but sin. Therefore, He experienced the passion or emotion of anger, but He never committed the sin of anger. Meekness is the virtue opposed to anger, and Jesus said, “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart” (Mt. 11:29).

For more on the virtue of meekness, which moderates the passion of anger, click here.

Blessed Are the Meek

At first glance, meekness may be the most unattractive Christian virtue. Today, many people think of “meekness as weakness,” the antithesis of the “holy” self-assertion that enables us to get our own way. We picture a meek person as a wimp or doormat, not as a virile, Christian man.

Yet, those of us who are serious about following the Lord and growing in Christian virtue know that the Bible presents a different image of meekness. Our faith extols meekness not only as a desirable virtue, but also as a beatitude and fruit of the Holy Spirit. Moses, who boldly delivered an entire nation from bondage, is described in Scripture as the meekest of men (Num. 12:3).

Surely Jesus Himself embodied all the virtues, but when it comes to meekness, there can be no doubt. He says, “Learn from me; for I am meek and humble of heart” (Mt. 11:29). Not only is Our Lord meek, but He also expects us to imitate His meekness. This message is for everybody, but in a special way it goes out to today’s men, for whom meekness sadly is a rare commodity.

Anger Management

We can often come to a richer understanding of words by examining their roots. Virtue (in Latin, virtus) is derived from the Latin word vir, which means man. Virtue, therefore, has historically been understood as implying a manly strength.

Meekness, sometimes used interchangeably with “gentleness” in biblical translations, comes from the Greek word prautes, meaning “not easily provoked.” This in turn comes from praus, which refers to a highly spirited trained horse. Such a horse has become so gentle and mild that a child may pet it or ride on its back. But the more important thing is that the horse no longer thrashes about wildly, but rather has been trained to take direction. The strength of the noble steed has been harnessed for good, not forfeited. Similarly, a harnessed river can generate power, and a harnessed or “meeked” fire can heat a campsite. Meekness, even in its etymology, has always implied harnessed strength, not weakness.

Applied to the human virtue, meekness implies an openness to God that allows Him to act through us, particularly at those times when our fallen nature might lead us to thrash about wildly. Meekness indeed involves a certain gentleness toward our neighbor, but it primarily applies to our relationship with God, as we daringly acquiesce to His harnessing of our gifts and talents for our own good and the good of His Church.

The Heart of a Father

The Catholic Church “heartily” celebrates the feasts of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, with the heart symbolizing the immense love of our Lord and His Blessed Mother for each one of us.

Yet, Catholic husbands and fathers might also consider meditating on the heart of St. Joseph, the third member of the Holy Family, whose great feast we celebrate today. His heart is an apt symbol of the love he contributed to the mystery of the redemptive Incarnation that was unfolding under his watch.

And now that same masculine vigilance and love, once focused on his beloved wife and the Christ Child, is bestowed on each one of us, as he is universally invoked as the patron of the Catholic Church.

At the outset of St. Luke’s Gospel, we learn that part of St. John the Baptist’s role in preparing the people for the imminent coming of the Messiah was to turn the hearts of fathers to their children so as to make ready for the Lord a people that was truly prepared for Him (cf. Mal. 3:23-24; Lk. 1:17). In St. Joseph, we find a father whose heart is already exquisitely calibrated.

His heart is always in the right place, and God was able to accomplish great things through this eminently just and faithful man.

St. Joseph’s fatherly heart jumps off the page throughout the biblical accounts of Christ’s childhood. Let’s take a brief look at just one such familiar episode: the Finding of Jesus in the Temple (Lk. 2:41-52), the Fifth Joyful Mystery of the Rosary.

“Now His parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of the Passover. And when He was twelve years old, they went up according to custom” (vv. 41-42).

These verses may seem unremarkable at first blush, though as St. Joseph is carting the Holy Family from place to place in the first century we can be certain these journeys were much more onerous than a leisurely afternoon drive in the air-conditioned minivan. But even in his fidelity to the Jewish practices of his time, St. Joseph gives us a most timely lesson on the value of men being observant Catholics. Too often we find at Sunday Mass mom and the kids, but where’s dad? St. Joseph challenges us men to allow our love for the Lord and zeal for our faith to set the tone for the entire family.

Real men go to church!

Guardian of the Redeemer

St. Joseph is one of the few saints to have more than one feast day. He also happens to be my patron saint, so when Maureen and I were getting married, she asked which feast day I celebrated. Before I had the chance to answer, she mused out loud, “Definitely not St. Joseph the Worker.” She was right (I celebrate March 19th as my feast day), though I’ve teased her ever since about this apparent commentary on my work habits!

The Church has traditionally honored St. Joseph during the month of March, so it seems appropriate to begin the month by drawing some insights from this great saint.

While St. Joseph wasn’t a priest in the usual sense, this “just man” has much to say in response to today’s crisis of fatherhood–both the spiritual fatherhood of priests and the fatherhood exercised in the home, which the Catechism calls a “domestic Church,” a community of grace and prayer.

St. Joseph was entrusted with the care of the Holy Family, the sanctuary of love where Jesus spent His hidden years. This family was not only a domestic Church but also, in embryonic form, the Universal Church, the Family of God, containing both Christ the Head as well as the mother of the “Body”–all who would come to believe in Christ and keep His commandments (cf. Rev. 12:17). For this reason, St. Joseph, husband of Mary and foster father of Jesus, is called the patron of the Universal Church.

I suspect that many modern men think St. Joseph got it all wrong. After all, this is the age of Viagra, no-fault divorce, and the “sexual revolution.” The goal seemingly is sex without responsibility, and here St. Joseph accepts the serious responsibility of marriage and family while foregoing the pleasure of marital intimacy.

Yet, St. Joseph got it exactly right. He is a vitally important witness to modern man that it is possible and necessary–in fact, noble and manly–to live in accordance with the Church’s teachings on sexual morality. Certainly this does not mean that all men, particularly married men, are called to perpetual continence. But all men according to their state in life are called to chastity and at certain times in their lives (e.g., before marriage and possibly at times during marriage) are called to continence.

The marital act is a sacred expression of one’s total gift to one’s spouse and must not degenerate into a merely recreational, selfish act of self-gratification. St. Joseph gives himself totally to the Blessed Virgin Mary. He embodies true love and marital fidelity to his beloved spouse even in the absence of physical intimacy.

Priests act in the person of Christ. Our Blessed Lord is the bridegroom, the Church is His bride. In a very real sense, then, priests are wedded to the Church (cf. Eph. 5:32). Their chaste, faithful betrothal to the Family of God–and their fidelity to the teachings of the Church–renders their priesthood life-giving and fruitful.

The title I most frequently associate with St. Joseph is “Guardian of the Redeemer.” This is at least partially the result of Pope John Paul II’s 1989 apostolic exhortation that bears that name.

A significant element of fatherhood is playing good defense–in other words, protecting the precious treasures that have been entrusted to us. Wolves in many forms pose serious threats to families. Our response as men of faith must not be fear or anxiety in the face of such threats, but rather vigilance and courage. This holds true, too, for priests and bishops with respect to the treasures of our faith. As St. Paul exhorts St. Timothy, “O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you” (1 Tim. 6:20).

During this month devoted to the Guardian of the Redeemer, may all of us fathers draw renewed strength from this holy hero. St. Joseph, patron of the universal Church, pray for us!

Temperance Matters

Temperance not only is undervalued but also misunderstood today. It does mean moderation, but not in a quantitative, mathematical sense. I could probably eat a dozen donuts, but that would be excessive. Yet not having any donuts would be excessive in the other direction, so I decide to eat only a half dozen. That’s a compromise, but not a temperate one!

Temperance is not pleasure avoidance, even though Prohibition was brought about by the “temperance movement.” And temperance is not merely “sin avoidance,” namely the mere absence of serious sins of gluttony or lust.

Temperance is all about living the good life. Here’s a textbook definition: Temperance moderates the attraction of sensual pleasures and provides balance in the use of created goods.

Let’s simplify that: Passions (also known as desires or emotions) are a “given.” They are not good or evil in themselves, but must be harnessed by the intellect and will lest they run amok.

When emotions such as fear keep us from pursuing the good, we need the virtue of fortitude or courage to press on.

Other times our desires pull or even seduce us to seek what isn’t good for us. In those instances, temperance is the virtue that moderates these desires and directs them in a good and healthy way.

Temperance involves staying strong during a storm of passion. We know those storms: “munchies,” sugar cravings, a cold beer or two, sexual urges, anger, the thrill of a gamble or athletic competition, or an exhibition of speed.

Let’s face it, our sins tend to be rooted in disordered desires, so we need the virtue of temperance lest our desires take control of our lives. The various vices of intemperance will lead to addiction and enslavement—spiritual and at times physical and psychological as well.

The virtue of temperance when specifically applied to the area of sexuality is called chastity.

Everyone is called to chastity. It’s a manly thing, and it’s a difficult thing.

“Virtual” Conversion

It’s true that in this life we will never reach the point at which sin ceases to be an issue. However, we can make great progress in our spiritual journey—and in the process, build up the culture of life—by striving to grow in virtue. Then, when tested, we’re disposed to act in accordance with our values—in other words, to act virtuously.

Virtues are “character muscles.” Let’s look at it this way: We may desire to accomplish some athletic feat (such as win a race or make the team), but to reach that goal we need physical muscles. We need to be in shape. We can’t show up and expect to succeed if we haven’t put in the requisite effort. Similarly, if we want to live happy, godly lives, the virtues are the muscles that enable us to reach our goal.

A virtue is a good habit that inclines us to perform morally good actions, as opposed to a vice, which is a bad habit that inclines us to sin. Virtues enable us to do the right thing with:

Men for Life

As Catholic men, we are all too familiar with what Pope John Paul II called the “culture of death,” which treats people as dispensable commodities rather than as persons made for eternity. Every day we are witnesses to myriad offenses against human life and dignity. Many of us respond by supporting pro-life organizations and by participating in the political process.

These responses are extremely important, but they’re not primary. After all, the culture of death is not merely “out there,” cordoned off from “good Catholics” like us. Rather, the culture of death is lurking within us: It is the reality of original sin. The effects of original sin are not only societal, but first and foremost intensely personal.

We’re probably sincere when we say we love Christ and desire to be faithful to His Church. But something may be lacking in the execution, as we frequently do the very things we say we hate (cf. Rom 7:19). Through our sins, we become complicit with the culture of death: We—and I’m speaking here primarily to men—become part of the problem. “Men behaving badly” isn’t just a lousy sitcom. The phrase epitomizes the widespread failure of today’s men to lead well.

Thanks be to Jesus Christ, who through the sacraments imparts to us His saving grace. Yet despite the awesome gift of divine mercy, we still bear within ourselves sinful tendencies that incline us to commit the same sins over and over again. We truly are works in progress–”men under construction,” as our annual archdiocesan men’s conference aptly describes it.

Over the next couple posts, I will discuss what men can do, with God’s grace, to become part of the solution.

This series originally appeared as a feature article published by This Rock magazine.

Are You Ready?

Football season is now in full swing. I know this because my young sons and I usually camp out in the basement on the first weekend of the season.

As we said our prayers in our sleeping bags following Notre Dame’s upset loss to South Florida, Samuel quoted one of his favorite lines from Rudy: “Notre Dame our Mother, pray for us!”

My pious son was praying for victory. He was not, however, thinking of a great battle like Lepanto or even of victory over sin and the triumph of Our Lady’s Immaculate Heart. Rather, the object of his prayer was next week’s game at the “Big House” versus Michigan. (His prayer apparently wasn’t efficacious, as the Wolverines pulled off an improbable fourth-quarter comeback to defeat the Irish 35-31.)

Football is a terrific sport, but we can take this form of entertainment too seriously. Sometimes our athletic allegiances go so far as to border on the sacrilegious. For example, when we lived in the Pittsburgh area, I heard of a priest who would wear black and gold vestments in honor of the Steelers.

I also heard of a parish that would give updates on football games during Mass, as though our salvation depends on that.

Those examples may be extreme, but they point to a reality faced by pastors around the country, as football and the Christian faith vie for our attention. It’s not uncommon for a Catholic to complain about the homily going five minutes too long (apparently the pastor was out of time-outs), only to watch seven hours or more of football later that same day. Many football fans will spend more time watching commercials on a given weekend than they will spend in church.

There are countless parallels that can be drawn by which we can assess where our own treasure lies. In preparing for Sunday, do we spend more time reading the sports page than reading the Gospel and other spiritual fare? Do we more frequently think of the Saints as our intercessors in heaven or as the NFL team that Drew Brees plays for? Do we tend to spend Advent preparing for Christmas or for the playoffs? (That shouldn’t be a problem for Chiefs’ fans this season, unfortunately.) The list could go on.

We armchair quarterbacks would do well to reevaluate our priorities in light of what’s truly most important in life. I have to admit I’ve hurried home from Mass so as not to miss any of the “big game.” What did that say about the importance I was placing on the Lord’s Day?

Even those of us who aren’t football fans may occasionally find ourselves at Mass thinking about the activities planned for later in the day rather than what’s taking place on the altar. If we were watching a football game or engaging in one of our favorite pursuits, would we let our mind wander so much?

When the Church emphasizes the need for “full, active, and conscious” participation in the liturgy, the goal is not the proliferation of speaking parts and sundry liturgical ministries so much as to beckon us to enter more deeply into the realities celebrated in the liturgy, to be aware of who we are and what we’re doing at Mass.

Our participation makes all the difference. If we don’t engage ourselves in heavenly things, we will put disordered energy into worldly pursuits. As great as Notre Dame (or Nebraska, Kansas State, or Mizzou) football is, God desires more for us than that.

Notre Dame our Mother, pray for us!

Labor Management

For many men today, one would think a “holy hour” means being able to watch the second half of a game without interruption, and that a “retreat” is 36 holes of golf interspersed with appropriate beverages. In countless parishes I’ve visited, the women far outnumber the men in the pews (and in the sanctuary). Meanwhile, try getting a seat at the local sports pub now that football season is starting up again.

There are countless things competing for men’s time and attention and, frankly, we don’t always do a good job of prioritizing, of putting first things first. And what could be more important than bending the knee before Our Heavenly Father, the source of all fatherhood (see Ephesians 3:14-15)?

In this regard, I suggest that we take a lesson from St. Joseph as we begin Labor Day weekend. St. Joseph’s entire life was ordered to God. This enabled him to reflect in his actions an interior life that perfected his manhood and thus enabled him to take the right approach to his work.