It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, and with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another—all our friendships, all our loves, all our play, all our politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.
This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner—no mere tolerance or indulgence, which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat—the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden. C.s S. Lewis – The Weight of Glory
Good morning, digital neighbors! Blessed Sunday to all! I think of this quote often, but especially on Sundays when I gather with my parishioners. I remind myself that after what I believe about the Blessed Sacrament, the next place of God’s indwelling—the next place where His hidden face is revealed—is in all the people I love and serve. God knows I am not perfect, but I do my best to give myself generously to my people and to take seriously the role of spiritual father. It is the entire reason I am called “Father,” which is my favorite job description. I don’t cling to it; it is something I try to live up to in the lives of my family of faith. Anyway, that quote by Lewis is always in orbit in my thoughts as I go about my days.
It is one of the reasons I am fond of my digital neighbors as well. The hidden face of God is at work through them, and if I am open to it, I may well be surprised. The hidden face of God has some stiff competition—human sinfulness, selfishness, and stupidity (the unholy trinity) can go a long way toward obscuring that hidden face, but they cannot erase it. Even the vilest of people can be recycled by God’s grace if they but turn to Him. A couple more quotes from The Weight of Glory to close this morning:
It is a good thing for the heart to be in love with something great.
We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
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Good morning, digital neighbors! Blessed Sabbath to all the sons and daughters of Abraham, and happy Saturday to all you other subscribers out there in the wilds of Locals and Substack. I hope all of you have had a great week. I can’t complain about anything of significance. The world is always a mess, and at times I doubt we will ever get back to the blessings of 2019, a record year of prosperity and growth in the States like nothing we had seen since the 1950s. Then along came the Plandemic, which tainted and twisted life and relationships in so many terrible ways. 2020 and 2021 are still my least favorite years of life. Well, no need to rehash what we all know about those years of division, fear, and deception. Off to some more autumn quotes for your morning reflection. Have a blessed day, and thank God for all good things known and so many more hidden from our awareness.
“Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.” — Faith Baldwin...
XIII
The Proud Minister
One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”
So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat. When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry. One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury. I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved. Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”
“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse. Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”
Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all. When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal. I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved. Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”
For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye. So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.
But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”
