Category: Spirituality

Nature, Nurture & Responsibility

I had a philosophical conversation with a friend recently about the shape of the multiverse, Schrödinger’s cat’s veterinarian, and other weighty topics. Ok, maybe not the first two.

The conversation was mainly about the seeming unfairness of life (and I think by inference, the unfairness of God), that some people are born into this world with so many things going against them, that they have no shot at success or happiness. There’s a few things here to dissect. The first is that yes, life is seemingly unfair, but it is fair in that it is unfair to everybody, one way or another—wait for it. The second is that God, by implication, is also unfair, even though He causes the sun to shine on the wicked and the righteous alike, and the third thing is, of course, how one measures success and happiness, a concept so objective that it precludes qualification for every person.

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The University of Notre Dame

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the college football season—for us Spartans at least—a time of great excitement, pageantry, and yes, even life lessons, as Guest Blogger Jack W. pointed out in his piece The Great Metaphor.

I have written in this space about the scandal at Penn State and hoped not to have to write about another low point in college sports. Alas, yesterday’s comments by Allan Pinkett, former All-American at Notre Dame, sadly compel comment.

Now before any of you Golden Domer’s go nuts, I will admit that his comments do not even remotely approach the level of scandal at PSU, so calm down. But I do hope you take a moment to reflect on what his comments say about college football, college athletics, and more importantly, what they say about Notre Dame and what she stands for.

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Monastic Cell or Prison Cell?

I enter into my heart to find you,

But I can’t see you.
Instead I see bars on the windows,
Casting long shadows across the floor.
You promised you would be here.
You told me that if I opened the door,
You would enter and sup with me.
 

It wasn’t always like this;
When did you leave?
When did I enter this prison?
The one I carry in my breast.
No, I never entered willingly;
I built it around myself.
Will you come again and open the door?

The Great Metaphor – by Jack W.

Fall has always been my favorite time of the year.  Growing up in the Midwest, the first hint of cool, damp air during a late August evening would send my heart a flutter with memories and expectations.  The most cherished bloom in this bouquet of lifelong flashbacks is FOOTBALL!

Now, no reasonable human being could begin to dispute that football has clearly supplanted baseball as our national past time.  Over the generations much weight has been given to the life lessons taught by the playing of the game.  While being part of a team and bonding through adversity benefit even the most casual participant, the reason for it isn’t often articulated.  I’ll take a stab at it.  Football is our culture’s greatest metaphor for life.

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AUNTM

I used to have many magazine subscriptions, but since traditional print media is inexorably migrating content to the web, I now only keep one: Car & Driver. I have subscribed uninterruptedly to CD since I was a kid. Why? Because I’m a car nut and of all the auto mags, CD is in my opinion the best of the bunch. However, this isn’t an advertisement for CD, I actually have a point.

In the September ‘12 issue, Technical Editor Aaron Robinson decries the idea of the autonomous (read self-driving) automobile in his column “Google is my co-pilot. What can go wrong?” It seems Google has teamed with scientists at Stanford University to conduct research into the concept and have actually created self-driving test vehicles. Sebastian Thrun, former director of the Artificial Intelligence Lab at Stanford, wrote in a blog post on Google’s website back in 2010 that autonomous vehicles would cut road fatalities and reduce traffic congestion while freeing the driver for other activities. Like what? Like maybe crochet or Sudoku?

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Two Hearts

Wicked, double heart!
Heavy, hard, sharp, and helpless.
What tool will cleave you;
what torrent erode you?
Arid years of standing still,
have left you a monument to apathetic fear.
Will you beat again?

Happy single heart!
Gentle, supple, sincere.
Cleft by love unbounded,
worn smooth by fearless acceptance.
Yielding and tender, moved by compassion
but unmoved by time.
Sacred Heart strong and stable,
carry my heaviness.
Surround me with calm.
Overcome my fear!

Penn State

The NCAA handed down its sanctions today. Only time will tell if the intent of changing PSU’s culture is fully realized. I’ve been listening with interest to all the talking heads, but even more to the comments from the general public. They seem to fall into two categories: the sanctions weren’t severe enough, or, it’s unfair to punish the student athletes, most of whom were in grade school when the abuse was happening. Certainly, no one will be happy. No one should be.

As a football fan, and a particularly avid fan of college football, this whole sad story shines a harsh light on how we can become so enthralled by things which are of absolutely no consequence, that we become blind to what is eternally important. This is called idolatry. At Penn State, people in the positions of power, power to save innocents from harm, chose to look the other way in order to protect their idol. There is no other way to look at it.

Idolatry is all around us; it suffuses our lives. The idol of personal freedom sentences millions of unborn children to death every year. The idol of affluence sacrifices the legitimate needs of the poor in our communities, and immolates our own real sense of self-worth as children of God. The idol of self, the most powerful and avaricious of all, demands daily offerings of pride, bigotry, callousness, impatience, disregard, fear and hate. When we look in the mirror, what do we see? A human being in need of healing and restoration, or an idol?

Silly Love Songs

My apologies Sir Paul.

I have been accused of maudlin romanticism. Yep, sorry, that’s me. Not sure why. Could be genetic, could be immaturity, could be my naturally melancholic nature, could be I’m just a sap. These traits are generally considered a handicap in our society, but as a writer, they’re a positive boon! Anyway, when I feel blue, I like listening to music, the sappier the better.

On my iPod—no I don’t have an iPhone! Live free or die!—I have a playlist called “Suicide Mix.” The name is an attempt to poke fun of those who accuse me of being a maudlin romantic. There really aren’t too many sad songs on the list, just music that reminds me of days gone by, when life seemed simpler.

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