Be Not Idle

The Gospel is not merely a communication of things that can be known – it is one that makes things happen and is life-changing. The dark door of time, of the future, has been thrown open. The one who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new life.

- Pope Benedict XVI, Saved in Hope ~ Spe salvi (2nd encyclical)

Baby Bro came over and cleaned my gutters (he’s taller and brought a longer ladder). He also took down a few low-hanging branches which I later took to the yardwaste collection center. I didn’t know that I didn’t have to separate the leaves and branches. The attendant had a chuckle at my hard work, but at least he educated me!

BB also brought over the second Futurama movie. It wasn’t nearly as funny (or focused) as the first one. The title was a clue that it was going to be a somewhat vulgar view of love and belonging, but BB didn’t know the saying “the beast with two backs” so it flew past him. The two best lines had us literally having to press the “review” button because we missed some of the dialogue afterwards, since we were laughing too hard. My favorite line is the “scientific” explanation by Professor Farnsworth: “Electromatter is Matter’s badass grandma.” And Bender’s speech at the end, explaining why he “rescued” his friends from a universe of bliss, was the very antithesis of 1 Corinthians 13:4, thus making it funnier than it would have been.

We went to bed past midnight and I, of course, managed to wake up less than 6 hours later. A thunderstorm was moving through, which isn’t that unusual. But I heard the rainwater rushing through the now-clear gutters and woke up enough to be completely awake.

I finished reading Danny Gospel and intend to post a review of it shortly, along with parallels between it and Odd Hours, by another author.

But first I must finish some writing of my own. I think I know why I was “blocked” while writing during the school year. When I write, I become completely consumed and lose track of time. I wrote for 12.5 hours a few days ago when I wasn’t using my alarm clock to curtail my writing session. I took a few breaks here and there, but I estimate that I was writing for 6 hours straight at the end.

The worst part is that I was working on character’s backstories, most of which won’t appear in the novel. But I had half-formed ideas about who the adults were, so off I went. One of my journalism teachers used to tell me that I was a good writer but tended to write “the history of dirt” (instead of sticking to the subject of worm-farming, for example). As a result, the editors had to prune deeply because my articles ran too long for newspapers. Unfortunately, I never freelanced for magazines, because they tend to like longer stories.

But I digress.

“The Indians of Arbre-coche are almost all converted, except for some good-for-nothing stubborn ones, who do better in not dishonoring our holy religion by accepting it. – Frederick Baraga, in a letter dated June 25, 1835

Frederick Baraga, the first bishop of Marquette, Michigan, is one of my heroes. I pray that he will be declared saint; his cause for canonization has been sent to the Vatican. He was a generous and selfless man who trekked the wilderness on snowshoes during the winter and travelled by canoe, all to care for God’s people – especially the ones who didn’t know Him.

He was also feisty, as his letter attests.

“Perhaps the saddest figure of all is Judas. We forget that Judas was one of the apostles. (…) But Judas remained his own worst enemy even to the end, walking past the place of the crucifixion to hang himself. He had to walk near Calvary, since the whole area is not very large. Having destroyed his reputation, the whole engagement of his life, he could have turned around and gone to Calvary and knelt at the foot of the Cross and asked for forgiveness. (…) His conversion is the page that is not written, because Judas destroyed himself – out of self-hatred, out of resentment, out of hopelessness.” – Arise from Darkness by Fr. Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been brooding over some of my students. I’m not sure if they’ve been particularly bad lately or I’ve been particularly impatient at their usual querulous and lazy ways. Sometimes I wonder how I can make their lives better and put some fire in them for learning; other times, I wonder if I could set them on fire for NOT learning. (”J-k,” as the kids say.)

Maybe it’s because it’s Lent, but sometimes I feel ashamed that I’m Catholic. Not in the “I’ll be embarrassed if my peers find out I’m one of THOSE people” way. More along the lines of, “I’m really poor example of Catholicism.” I am impatient and have a quick temper. I fall asleep when I pray. My mind frequently wanders away at Mass (nevermore to return). I’m not sure what my purpose in life is; I’ve got the “know” and “love” parts down, but not that pesky “serve God”. 

But then – perhaps because it’s Lent and Lent does this to me – I think about Judas. I also think about that young man mentioned in the gospel of Mark, the one who was a follower of Jesus when He was arrested. The crowd grabbed him by his clothes, but he tore free from them, running away naked as Adam.

How many times do I walk away from my Lord Jesus? How many times, when pressed by students do I shake free from the command to love because it’s just too difficult to be patient or too easy to be angry? I worry that I stand in my own way and, like the might-have-been-saints, don’t serve God as I should.