OK, Here's What I'm Reading

In recent weeks I've had several of my Bible Study participants ask me what I'm currently reading. I'm not sure why they'd want to know; after all, my reading habits are likely no more interesting than anyone else's. Anyway, my tastes in books can also be a bit off-putting to some folks. For example, I rarely read modern novels, and by "modern" I mean anything written during the past 30 or 40 years. There are exceptions; indeed, one of the books I'm currently reading would certainly be labeled a modern novel, but I was introduced to other works by the same author and enjoyed them. The reason I avoid most modern fiction? There's far too much of it and I have so little time to sort out the bad from the not-so-bad. There's really very little good. I hate to waste precious time (and inflationary cash) on something not worth reading, so it's safer to wait several decades and ask a few simple questions:

• Is it still in print? This isn't always a good benchmark, but it does limit the field. Multiple printings tell us little about the critics, but a lot about the general public; and I trust the latter more than the former. The public isn't always right, but it's more right than most critics.
• The above leads to another set of criteria: Who likes it and who doesn't? Is it on the "must read" list of someone I know and trust? Or is it on the "hated list" of someone whose opinions I regularly dismiss as foolish? A "yes" answer to both questions is a definite plus.
• Is it a seminal work, one of those truly influential books that has changed the world? Its impact might have been horribly negative, like Mein Kampf or Das Kapital, or very positive, like Augustine's Confessions or Russell Kirk's The Conservative Mind. I read them all, since ignoring them leaves one ill-equipped to cope with their consequences.
• Finally, is it a book I will simply enjoy? For example, Flannery O'Connor's letters, published posthumously as The Habit of Being is one of those books to which I often return. O'Connor was always interesting and usually quite funny. I also enjoy the works of Jane Austen, Gene Wolfe, Alice Thomas Ellis, G. K. Chesterton, V. S. Naipaul, P. G. Wodehouse, Evelyn Waugh, Mark Helprin, Maurice Baring, and so many others.

At any given time, I'm usually reading more than one book, all stacked neatly on the table next to my comfortable, squishy easy chair in our living room. Diane thinks this is weird, but it works for me. I simply choose the book that seems to suit my current mood, something that changes often enough. If a book is interesting and well-written, I have no trouble picking up where I left off when I last put it down. And so, here are a few of the books I've recently read or am reading now. 

Winter's Tale, by Mark Helprin (1983). Helprin is a wonderful writer, and I often find myself checking to see what he's published lately. I've read many of his works, novels and short stories -- I especially liked A Soldier of the Great War -- but somehow missed this novel, one of his earlier works. A remarkable love story, touched with fantasy, but for me utterly believable. 

The Seven Storey Mountain, by Thomas Merton (1948). I first read this book when I was a freshman at Georgetown, but that was 60 years ago. As I recall I found it too personal and too spiritual. But what did I expect? After all, it's an autobiography of a man who becomes a Trappist monk. Personal and spiritual? Well, yeah! Right now, I'm smack dab in the middle of it and truly enjoying it. It takes me back to the Church and the world I experienced in my youth. And reading Merton's life, I encounter pieces of my own and my struggles to make my way past many of the same obstacles that confronted the author. Interesting that I didn't recognize any of this during my first reading when I was 18. As college freshmen we were sure we were oh so smart, when in truth we were amazingly stupid.

The Stripping of the Altars 1400-1580, by Eamon Duffy (1992). This absolutely fascinating (and very long) book is another through which I'm now making my way. It's one of those books that has changed how many people, both Catholics and Protestants, understand the role the Catholic Church played in the lives of the English people before and during the early years of Reformation. Duffy focuses on a particular period (1400-1580) and demonstrates that late medieval Catholicism remained the religion of the people throughout. He also writes convincingly of the means by which this truth has been grossly distorted. 

Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book, by Walker Percy (1983). With this book, Percy, a medical doctor and successful novelist, offered us a work of non-fiction designed to help you and me discover, as he phrased it, "who you are not and even (an outside chance) who you are." Percy looks intently, and with his own brand of humor, at man and the universe in which God has placed him and tries to make sense of it all by providing us with a cosmic survival guide. I just finished reading the book, enjoyed it immensely, but in truth preferred Percy's novels, especially The Moviegoer and The Second Coming.

The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity by Douglas Murray (2019). If you're sick and tired of all the wokeness that is continuously streamed into your life and that of your family, then this is the book for you. Douglas Murray, a British political commentator and an editor at The Spectator, takes a hard look at the plague of identity politics, its Marxist roots, and its manifestations regarding race, sexuality, and gender. He also examines how technology and the online culture it has spawned has negatively altered human relationships. It's a wonderfully researched and well-written book. You might consider giving copies to grown children and grandchildren, assuming they can still read and have the attention span necessary to make their way through almost 300 pages.

Here are two others on the subject of Sacred Scripture, books that tell us much about modern Scriptural scholarship.

The Case for Jesus (2016), by Brant Petre. This little book should be read by all Christians who have become confused thanks to the work and commentary of so many of today's New Testament scholars. Brant Petre, a Catholic Scriptural scholar, lays bare the false assumptions and conclusions of the form critics who unfortunately have led so many Christians astray and been the cause much lost faith. Focusing on the Gospels, Petre digs deeply into the original manuscripts, as well as the works of Early Church Fathers, proving, as the Church has always taught, that the Gospels were actually written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and relate the truth about the life and public ministry of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Although written for the layperson, Petre provides detailed references and documentation for anyone who desires to pursue the subject in greater depth.

The Decline and Fall of Sacred Scripture (2021), by Scott Hahn & Benjamin Wiker. Here we have another wonderful book focusing on the truth of Sacred Scripture and the attempts by many scholars to turn the Bible into just another book of tall tales. The authors provide an overview of the degradation of Scriptural scholarship over the centuries, and its negative effects on the faith of millions of Christians. From Marsilius and Ockham in the late medieval period, through the Reformation, and into our modern times, we are shown how Sacred Scripture has been radically attacked by generations of scholars who, in the words of one reviewer, left "an incoherent mess" in their wake. 

Doors in the Walls of the World, by Peter Kreeft (2018). I've been reading Peter Kreeft for decades and he never disappoints. This little book is no exception. Its subtitle, Signs of Transcendence in the Human Story, is a perfect description of its content. Although barely 125 pages, it took me several evenings to make my way through it. Almost every page left me with something to think about more deeply and I found myself questioning my own habits of thought. Here's just one example, from p. 43: 

"Divine design is either nothing or everything; and if it is everything, then it extends even to randomness and apparent meaninglessness, to the puzzling presence of evil and the absence of scientific proofs. The hypothesis of faith may not be provable, but it is believable. The doors in the walls of the world may be only loose threads, but they are there."

Because I've long accepted God's omniscience and omnipotence, I had never believed in mere coincidence. Here Kreeft extends this to include a rational disbelief in both randomness and meaninglessness. It's a wonderful book.

And that's enough. Blessings and God's peace...

Reflection: Stations of the Cross

Note: Every Friday during Lent the deacons of our parish lead the people in praying the Stations of the Cross. Before praying the Stations, we usually give a brief Lenten reflection to help us conform our minds and hearts to God's holy will. This past Friday of the Second Week of Lent it was my turn. My reflection follows:
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I sometimes think we take the Cross for granted, thus dulling the reality of Christ's passion. Or maybe we belittle His sufferings, believing it was somehow different for Him, that in His Divine Person His suffering wasn't real, like our suffering.

It's important to state this clearly: Jesus' sufferings were very real and more intense than anything you and I might endure. And they encompassed so much. 

The agonizing hours He spent in the garden, all the while ignored by His three closest friends. And later to be abandoned by these and by virtually all whom He loved, even betrayed by one of them.

He was arrested, tried and convicted for crimes He didn't commit; falsely accused and subjected to a steady stream of lies.

He was insulted, taunted, repeatedly struck and spit on, flogged almost to the point of death. Then the King of Kings was painfully and ignominiously crowned with thorns.

Condemned and executed like a common criminal, as He died, He endured more taunts, insults and mockery.

And through it all, the Father kept His silence. Can we even begin to plumb the depths of Christ's suffering?

Yet all this suffering would have been wasted, it would not have redeemed a single soul, if Jesus had not endured it with love.

Christ's suffering alone didn't redeem the world. It was His love - the love with which He bore and offered His sufferings to the Father for us. This is the same love that was present at the creation - the love that brought everything into being. A love we repay with sin.

There's an awful lot of suffering in our world today. Just read the headlines. Watch the evening news. Or perhaps you need only look at those seated near you, or at yourself. Illness, the death of a loved one, a child who has strayed and turned his back on God, financial problems, family strife, addictions... all these sufferings are very real in our lives and in the lives of those we know.

But have we learned to bear our sufferings as Jesus taught us? Even though surrounded by darkness, the light of His love burned brightly and enlightened others. With one look of compassion he brought tears of repentance to the eyes of Peter. He prayed for His executioners. He welcomed the good thief to paradise.

He died because He did the will of the Father, freely and out of love. He didn't simply endure His sufferings. He suffered because of His great love for you.

Suffering that is merely endured does little for our souls except harden them. It just turns us inward and floods us with self-pity, the first and normal reaction to suffering. But self-pity can be a cancer; it can erode our faith, our courage, and our capacity to feel compassion for others...our capacity to love.

Thomas Merton once wrote that, "The Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy. For nothing so easily becomes unholy as suffering." [No Man is an Island, p. 77]

Now, I'm not suggesting that you imitate those who have an almost morbid love of suffering. From my experience, they tend to be dour, humorless people. No. Christ wants us to love. Love can cause the greatest suffering of all - heartbreak - but it also brings the greatest joy.

Rejoice!

God wants us to be joyful. That's why next Sunday is Laetare Sunday, a day to rejoice, even in the midst of repentance. After all, we repent because we are filled with hope, the hope of forgiveness. Is this not a good reason to be joyful?

And it's also why Good Friday isn't called "Bad Friday." It's good because it's the ultimate manifestation of God's overwhelming love for you -- not some generic love, but a very personal, individual love, a love in which our God lays down His life for you.

And so today, as we pray these Stations together, let's recall Jesus' prayer for those who nailed Him to that Cross: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do" [Lk 23:34].

When we return to our homes, let's not take up where we left off, carrying the burdens of things we can't forgive.

Jesus began His ministry by telling us to do two things: "Repent and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].

We talk a lot about believing in and living the Gospel these days, and that's a very good thing. But let's not forget the other part. Let's not forget to repent of our sins.

"Do not weep for me..."

"Do not weep for me," Jesus told the women of Jerusalem, "weep instead for yourselves and for your children" [Lk 23:28].

It's okay if we don't weep for Jesus this Lent. He won't mind. Rather let's follow Peter's example -- Peter, who wept bitter tears for his own sins. Then maybe we'll be able to forgive those who sin against us.

God love you.