the March

Those in the red caps is our group

It’s been said that the reason the Government Media Complex does not cover the March for Life is that, “Since it happens each year it is not news.” I would like purpose that since it does happen every year makes it news.” and here is another good reason why they stay away. Also the numbers that go is growing. Last year it was estimated that 400,000 people were there this year they are saying it is close to a half million. I don't know if that is true but I do know that we filled our bus this year and when we tried to take a break at a truck stop outside of DC we were told that there was no room for our bus. None of that has happened before.

I took my youth group to The March for Life in DC again this year. Yes it rained, it was cold, and we were tired from the red eye bus trip, but they knew why they were there why they had to be there. A couple of my kids smiled when one of the politicians said, "If only we had a republican president and control over both houses we could end this!" These kids knew the history. We had that and still nothing was done. Most of the Marchers know that the ruling class has no intention of seriously battling Planned Parenthood, NARAL and the like, they are learning what Chesterton meant when he said “....Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.” It is easy to feel discouraged and that the situation won't change. However many of us are encouraged. We can't expect someone else to do the heavy lifting for us anymore. Maybe this is an inadvertent positive change the current occupant gave us.

When he says stuff like this, “I remain committed to protecting a woman’s right to choose and this fundamental constitutional right.” we know he is full of crap.

New Year's

by Dana Gioia

Let other mornings honor the miraculous.

Eternity has festivals enough.

This is the feast of our mortality,

The most mundane and human holiday.

On other days we misinterpret time,

Pretending that we live the present moment.

But can this blur, this smudgy in-between,

This tiny fissure where the future drips

Into the past, this flyspeck we call now

Be our true habitat? The present is

The leaky palm of water that we skim

From the swift, silent river slipping by.

The new year always brings us what we want

Simply by bringing us along—to see

A calendar with every day uncrossed,

A field of snow without a single footprint.

A Chesterton Buffet

I was reading a recently published collection of the best Chesterton essays when I thought of a local Chinese restaurant.

I wasn't thinking of Chesterton's dining habits. Indeed, I have doubts that Chesterton ever ate what we think of as Chinese food - though I don't know that for certain. Maybe he did enjoy an egg roll or some chow mein at some point.

The restaurant in question serves meals, but the bulk of its business is its buffet. It has four rows of various Chinese and non-Chinese foods - pizza?? - with heated pans and heat lights. Most diners just grab plates and wander up and down the rows taking a little bit of this and a little bit of that, though there are always some individuals who grab a lot of this and a lot of that until their plates are piled so high one wonders how much of the food will actually make it to their tables.

Once while eating in this restaurant I began to reflect on differing styles of enjoying a buffet of this sort. I observed some people who would go to one row, fill their plates from that row only, and then head back to their seats to eat. When they finished their first plate they would then go back and load up from the second row, and so on, in order until they had visited each row. Did some of them methodically take a little bit of everything? Perhaps.

Then there are those who circulated among the rows, taking this from this row and that from that row. When they went back, they continued the pattern. Perhaps they had favorites and only ate those foods. Perhaps they were afraid to try new things. Or perhaps they were like me, vegetarians who avoid meat dishes.

Recalling this restaurant got me to musing about reading styles when approaching collections of any sort.

There are some people who seem to enjoy by sampling pieces in various sections of the book. Perhaps they seek out particular topics or writers, or maybe they just trust to luck and read whatever they come to that captures their interest.

There are some collections that lend themselves to this sort of sampling.

Then there are those people who methodically work their way through the collection from preface to index.

There are some collections that lend themselves to this approach.

Both methods have their pluses and minuses.

The sampling method ensures that one will enjoy what one reads for such readers tend to gravitate toward those things for which they already have an interest.

But in doing so, such readers might miss out on gems that just didn't happen to catch their attention.

The methodical readers take in everything the collection contains, good and bad, and thus might have a complete understanding of the organizing principle behind the collection, and along the way perhaps discover unknown treasures and nuggets of information they might otherwise never have encountered.

On the other hand, they might also run into a patch of less interesting pieces that might lead them to stop reading.

When it comes to Chesterton, either approach is acceptable. You can just plunge in and sample as the spirit moves you. Or you can work your way through from beginning to end, knowing that because it is Chesterton there won't be any less interesting pieces to get you questioning whether or not to go on.

When it comes to the restaurant - and many collections - I tend to be a sampler.

With this collection of Chesterton, I'm going the cover-to-cover route.

Either way works well when accompanied by a nice cup of tea.

Two books to enjoy

I've been busy with school work - and the sickness that now has me on antibiotics. But I did manage to squeeze in some good reading.

First up was Exiles, by Ron Hansen, and interesting account of Fr. Gerard Manley Hopkins and the five nuns that became the inspiration for his poem, "The Wreck of the Deutschland." I've always enjoyed historical "fiction," and this gave me some insights into his life. Good read.

I also just finished (while sitting in the doctor's waiting room) The Man Who Invented Christmas, by Les Standiford. It's an account of Dickens' writing A Christmas Carol, and the effects it had on his career and how the book helped to revive the celebration of Christmas. Also a good read - especially for fans of Dickens and Christmas (like me).

Two thumbs up.

Now, back to those Chesterton essays.

Christmas Books

Every Christmas, relatives and friends gift me with books.

Some of the books are ones I've indicated in not always subtle ways that I want. This year, for example there was one particular book (involving Chesterton, I might add) that I really wanted. When a catalog from a well-known Catholic publisher arrived, I searched through it until I found the title, folded the catalog open to the right page, circled the book several times, and sang some Christmas carols with an earnest smile.

I got that book.

Other times people give me books based upon my particular interests. Chesterton, St. Francis of Assisi, poetry, and Dickens are among the interests addressed this year.

Some people knowing my quirky sense of humor give me books they think I will find amusing. This year, a relative who moved to Utah, a state that, to be honest, has never been of the slightest interest to me, although I do like Marie Osmond's version of a Dada poem, sent me a book about Utah curiosities. I've already discovered one story in it about a woman who uses cow pies - yes, those "pies" - to make clocks, and picture and mirror frames.

A keeper.

The books end up either next to my bed in the pile of books to be read, or outside the "reading room."

This year's additions:

In Defense of Sanity: The Best Essays of G.K. Chesterton. Circles and Christmas Carols do work.

The Road to Assisi: The Essential Biography of St. Francis by Paul Sabatier. Chesterton's biography is the essential one, in my opinion, but this modern examination of his life looks like it has much to offer.

Surpassing Pleasure by John Slater. A contemporary Cistercian poet: I can't wait to test those verbal waters.

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T. S. Eliot. I'd actually read many of these poems long ago and enjoyed them, so it's wonderful to have them before me again. Plus, it's nice to be reminded that Eliot didn't always write as if he had spiritual heartburn.

How to Do Everything (From the Man Who Should Know) by Red Green. Red Green is a Canadian comedian who is an acquired taste, and a taste that I acquired long ago.

The Man Who Invented Christmas by Les Standiford. A book that examines how Dickens helped to save Christmas from those who would downplay the celebration of it, and, in the process, apparently saved his own career. I've always loved Dickens and his Christmas tales, so this should be an intriguing read.

Utah Curiosities by Brandon Griggs. Cow pies. Need I say more?

Much reading to do.

Oh joy.

I've been remiss: Merry Christmas

Happy Feast of St. Stephen.

I realized today I had not posted here in about three months. Chesterton deserves better than that!

This Christmas I gave a copy of Chesterton's Irish impressions to an Irish friend. And then (after some not so subtle hinting on my part), on Christmas morning my dear bride presented me with a copy of In Defense of Sanity: The Best Essays of G. K. Chesterton.

It's wonderful to find some of may favorite essays - "A Piece of Chalk," "What I Found in My Pocket," "On Lying in Bed," "Cheese," and more - all in one place. And there are many other essays I haven't read yet conveniently waiting for me.

I just have to finish Ron Hansen's Exiles, and then I dig into this treasure trove.

As for my Chesterton endeavors, I'll be sending in to Gilbert a batch of clerihews my students wrote, and scribbling a few more of my own. Plus, I've decided to give a more prominent role to the Chesterton-based character in that novel I've been writing forever.

Tally ho!

St Bernard on All Saints Days day

"Why should our praise and glorification, or even the celebration of this feast day mean anything to the saints? What do they care about earthly honors when their heavenly Father honors them by fulfilling the faithful promise of the Son? What does our commendation mean to them? The saints have no need of honor from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs. Clearly, if we venerate their memory, it serves us, not them. But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.

Calling the saints to mind inspires, or rather arouses in us, above all else, a longing to enjoy their company, so desirable in itself. We long to share in the citizenship of heaven, to dwell with the spirits of the blessed, to join the assembly of patriarchs, the ranks of the prophets, the council of apostles, the great host of martyrs, the noble company of confessors and the choir of virgins. In short, we long to be united in happiness with all the saints. But our dispositions change. The Church of all the first followers of Christ awaits us, but we do nothing about it. The saints want us to be with them, and we are indifferent. The souls of the just await us, and we ignore them.

Come, brothers, let us at length spur ourselves on. We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven. Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. We should not only want to be with the saints, we should also hope to possess their happiness. While we desire to be in their company, we must also earnestly seek to share in their glory. Do not imagine that there is anything harmful in such an ambition as this; there is no danger in setting our hearts on such glory.

When we commemorate the saints we are inflamed with another yearning: that Christ our life may also appear to us as he appeared to them and that we may one day share in his glory. Until then we see him, not as he is, but as he became for our sake. He is our head, crowned, not with glory, but with the thorns of our sins. As members of that head, crowned with thorns, we should be ashamed to live in luxury; his purple robes are a mockery rather than an honor. When Christ comes again, his death shall no longer be proclaimed, and we shall know that we also have died, and that our life is hidden with him. The glorious head of the Church will appear and his glorified members will shine in splendor with him, when he forms this lowly body anew into such glory as belongs to himself, its head.

Therefore, we should aim at attaining this glory with a wholehearted and prudent desire. That we may rightly hope and strive for such blessedness, we must above all seek the prayers of the saints. Thus, what is beyond our own powers to obtain will be granted through their intercession."

"Holiness is not about what you do but with how much love you do it."

Do not seek to be like the Saints - seek what they sought.