Nightmares about the Coming Facist State

Wichita Kansas: early Sunday morning, August 8, 2009 -- I woke up in our hotel room this morning a little before 5:30 a.m. and couldn't make it back to sleep. We've been attending the Midwest Catholic Family Conference -- an annual event in Wichita that draws Catholic speakers and families from all over the world. Great event, very positive. It's exciting to hear these apologists and speakers whose names and stories I've only read about up to now. But one speaker's story has particularly affected me: Immaculee Ilibigaza -- a survivor of the Rwandan genocide in 1994. Immaculee hid in a bathroom with 7 other women for weeks, while another tribe was hunting for people like her to hack them to death with machetes. At one point, a mob of 300 people entered the house where she was hidden, and despite searching the small house for 2 hours, Immaculee and the others were miraculously preserved through prayer God and spared the machete-wielding crowd. Immaculee wrote about the harrowing experience in a book entitled "Left to Tell". Although her story is an uplifting one -- full of the power of grace and forgiveness -- it has kicked off the realization within me that what happened in Rwanda *could* happen here. For westerners, the horrors that occurred in 1994 -- when Rwanda was suddenly cast into a maelstrom of violent killing and tribal genocide is nearly inexplicable. We cannot imagine that anything could cause people to suddenly rise up and begin hacking their neighbors to death as quickly as if someone threw a light switch turning otherwise normal people into raging savages bent on an orgy of murder. Actually, I guess we can imagine that -- we hear of violent murders on a daily basis, now that I think of it. No -- it's not that some people went berserk; it's that half of an entire nation did so at a moment's notice. That's the unbelievable part of this tragic story. Part of the impact of Immaculee's story on me personally has to do with the setting. It was here in Wichita several years ago that some black men abducted two couples at gunpoint and forced them to commit various sexually degrading acts, before murdering them all. I can't help but think of this horrible incident whenever I think about Wichita. Man's capacity for atrocity apparently knows no limit. (Another troubling aspect of this horrific event was the fact that the mainstream national media gave this -- like so many other black-on-white crimes -- almost no coverage, so those who do not live in the area are very likely never to have heard of this shocking crime, unlike the Rwandan genocide of course.) Anyway, so Immaculee's story has got me thinking about the ease and the quickness with which this country could descend into the same kind of ethnic and political violence. As the national debate - to the extent there even is one - continues over President Obama's alleged "healthcare reform" (read: "slide into Facism") we move ever deeper into a national morass in which the rabidly anti-life U.S. government will be able to decide who gets medical treatment and when. I recently gave an interview (really just a soundbite) to a local news station in opposition to the healthcare reform proposals, arguing that it is extremely scary to contemplate giving the U.S. government the power over who lives and dies. This will amount to the government deciding who gets catastrophic medical care, and alternatively who is instead merely giving palliative care to ease their slide into death. Healthcare administered by the same "warm and fuzzy" bureaucrats that run the IRS, if you will. Fortunately, there is a sizeable group of Americans who see the implications of handing over the routine power of life and death to this anti-Life government of radical 60's leftists. These people have been turning out to give their congressman and senators an earful in their districts -- where they are allowed to speak to their Capitol Hill masters, that is. (Some congressional office holders have moved to prevent public speaking at their appearances back home in their districts.) In other places, groups of thuggish union members and community organizations like the corrupt to the core SEIU and ACORN have actually threatened and intimidated people from speaking out at these meetings. Elsewhere, others have likened these people to the Brownshirts -- Nazi-orchestrated civilians which were used to silence dissent in pre-war Germany. Seems to me that ACORN and the SEIU fit the brownshirt description nicely. Being here in Wichita brings up better memories as well, though. Wichita was for a long time the home of Rich Mullins -- one of a very short list of men who have had a profound impact on my life and faith. Last evening after the family conference shut down, we drove over to Friends University where Rich attended and got his music degree, and nearby Newman University, whose St. Joseph Square is featured in Mullins' song, "Peace: A Communion Song from St. Joseph's Square." One of the many things that Rich said that has stuck with me, was that governments are inherently anti-life, and we should not be surprised to realize this. At one point, Rich thanked God for Richard Nixon, because he said, Nixon made it impossible for us to think that governments would ever be anything but anti-Christian and anti-life. "Democracy is not bad politics," Rich further explained. "It's just bad math." "It's the mistake that believing that a thousand corrupt minds are better than one corrupt mind." I don't think there are very many if any people out there in America today who imagine that this country could descend into the same bloody violence as what occurred in Rwanda in 1994. Surely, I must be nearly alone in fearing this. Some conservatives recognize the dangers that the Obama administration poses to our very lives, but overall the American people remain fat and happy. (I'm reminded of the line from the movie Animal House in which the dean tells the college student "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son.") If that's not a perfect description for Americans in general, it's close, nonetheless. But still -- this is the stuff of nightmares that keep me from sleep, these days. God help us.

So SSAD: the Triumph of Homosexual Propaganda

Got a couple of Twitter posts in the past two days that were promoting a local "Gay Pride" festival. (I prefer the term/acronym SSAD -- Same Sex Attraction Disorder to "gay".) The first of the posts was passed on by a perfectly nice young lady who often promotes local festivals, events, etc. around Tulsa. At first, I was a little taken aback -- you get to know people on a limited basis and probably don't know them as well as you think. (I know, I know -- it's the internet, what should I expect?) I would have liked to ignore it, but I just couldn't. So I sent the young lady a direct message (for those of you who don't "Twitter", a direct message goes only to the recipient sort of like a regular text message) expressing my disappointment, and then un-followed her future public posts. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a neutral reply back thanking me for the feedback, via direct message. (The young lady in question is nothing if not polite, and she should be commended for showing such obvious class and grace.) But no discussion of the subject matter. I suspect that she sees "Gay Pride" like most secularists as a civil rights matter. The next day I received more notices of the homosexual pride festival from other sources -- one of which was happily inviting people to visit the YWCA booth at the Gay Pride (yuck) festival. Think about that for a sec -- the YWCA, the Young Women's Christian Association is apparently promoting a festival which glorifies an objectively sinful behavior. These are the depths to which we've already sunk. Why should this be? Much of it is the triumph of secularism over religious belief, and secularism seems to be a fruit of the poisonous tree of relativism. The late great Pope John Paul II decried this philosophy in his landmark encyclical Evangelium Vitae (The Gospel of Life), when he noted the threat that relativism poses to our society and culture at large.) Relativists are able to believe contradictory mutually exclusive propositions (both "A" and "Not A") simultaneously, without so much as a blink. Where people have lost the common sense understanding that there is such a thing as objective truth, the whole culture is at risk. But it also seems to me that this has to do with a generational difference in the way homosexuality is viewed in society at large. The current generation -- a product of years of skillful and insidious propagandizing through the media -- has accepted that homosexuality is merely an acceptable alternative lifestyle, and not an objectively immoral or sinful (they seem to have little concept of the latter) behavior. That a whole generation could view something so objectively sinful as "normal" is testament to the success of 40 years of gay propaganda. But it's also proof that we have failed to publicly oppose it and speak out when confronted by it. Too often, we just "let it go" and silently cluck to ourselves. But what to do about it? I would suggest that we Catholics and Christians and even other non-Christian religions must necessarily push back. We must not be silent in the face of such things, but step out in courage to calmly and peacefully point out that such behavior is objectively wrong. We have to call attention to the fact that homosexuality is unnatural and a perversion which should draw pity, not pride. We cannot be silent. Lives are lost and a generation is the process of losing their very souls. At multiple apparitions in the 20th century, beginning with Fatima in 1917, the Virgin Mary has testified that more souls would be lost to sexual impurity (of which homosexuality is but one form, of course) than anything else. The Progressives rely on intimidating Christians into silence. Don't let them do it, for we remain silent we are betraying Christ. Speak up and speak out against these sins.

"The Greatest Mistake of My Life" - Dr. Bernard Nathanson

The last surviving founding member of NARAL (National Abortion Rights Action League), recants his involvement and frankly admits lying to the American people and the judiciary about when life begins.

Beer is proof that God loves us, and wants us to be happy!

I Am A Craft Brewer from I Am A Craft Brewer on Vimeo.

Beer is proof that God loves us, and wants us to be happy! -- Benjamin Franklin

My latest favorite craft brew: Choc Beer's Pietro Piegari - an American Amber ale, brewed in Krebs, OK. http://chocbeer.com/choc_beer.html?#/beer/

Great stuff. Got six in my fridge as I speak, and I'm looking forward to this afternoon.

FBC

Pass the Salt: Fr. Jenkins arresting priests at Notre Dame

Twitter invented in 1935?

Robot-Notificator - 1935 August issue of Modern Mechanics: http://infomarketingblog.com/images/twitter-robot.jpg Here's a video explanation of Twitter. It's fairly good, but ignores the professional aspect of Twitter, wherein people (or lawyers, take your pick) post links to articles and issues that are of interest to their narrow fields. There are a number of consumer law / bankruptcy law Twitterers, and also law marketing Twitterers that I follow, in addition to friends' personal posts. I actually have two separate Twitter accounts (three, if you count the Tulsa Diocese March4Life acct): BenCallicoat (my personal account) and JarboeLaw (my professional account.)

The Feminization of the Roman Catholic Church

I recently went to First Communion for Joseph B., a friend of my son Campion, at the Parish of St. Pius X, here in Tulsa. (Not to be confused with the SSPX -- this is a regular diocesan parish.*) One thing that I've noticed from my Mass365 project is that the liturgy varies from parish to parish and that although the liturgy of the cathedral is pretty reliably solid, it can get pretty far afield out in the parishes.

One example was Joseph's First Communion. You would think -- I would've thought, anyway -- that a First Communion Mass would be a fairly formal affair and the rubrics of the Mass would be more or less observed. Well if this is what you would think, you would be wrong. What a mess!

Rumblings of misgiving occurred when a week before the actual event, the children being catechized were instructed by the (female) DRE that all were to receive Communion in the hand -- none of that Communion on the tongue stuff allowed.

That necessitated a trip to see the pastor, Fr. Michael Knipe, who informed Joe's dad that there was "some misunderstanding" -- that he didn't intend for this to be the case. ("There was no misunderstanding", his father told me.) A follow-up revealed that a former pastor had indeed instructed that none of the children were to receive on the tongue, but apparently the DRE or whatever, had never changed this directive. All of which begs the question: who is running the church?

The Mass itself was a liturgical train-wreck, with all of the children lining up to do the readings. (I hate this practice, by the way. My understanding is that there is an indult for allowing lay persons to read -- but only in extraordinary circumstances.) The kids stumbled and mumbled through it -- including one young girl who climbed up to the podium turned a few pages and hurried away without saying anything -- and eventually the painful experience passed. The music was even more insipid than usual -- something about butterflies and God's love -- as done by an electric combo with a bass guitar and electric keyboard. I told someone later that it was like going to Mass and a country music concert broke out.

When it came time for First Communion, the candidates lined up in the back of the Church with their mothers (!) and each processed down to receive the host. As each youngster received Communion, their mother stood by next to them, then processed away without so much as a nod to Our Lord. After Mass the priest had some telling remarks, taking time to thank by name those who had instructed the children for First Communion. Tellingly, all of the five or six names he publicly thanked were female.

The only bright spot in the entire affair was that when it came time for little Joe to receive Our Lord, he did so in the traditional manner, receiving on the tongue. (Good show, Joe!)

Today my wife was telling me about some other friends of ours who attend a parish out in the hinterlands, and whose DRE (again, female, it goes almost without saying) began a talk with "I don't believe all of what the Church teaches; here's what I believe." As I like to say, there's a word for someone who believes 98% of what the Catholic Church teaches: "Protestant".

Leon Podles wrote an entire book about the feminization of the Church about a decade or so ago. (http://tinyurl.com/podles -- I've never read it, though.) Podles' jeremiad has apparently fallen on deaf ears.

Now I'm not one to bitch and moan about the state of the Church -- I'm really not. It gets old fast. And in fact, I'm full of hope as I get to know more and more of the people responsible for running and administering the church here in Tulsa. But really, something needs to be done. I'm happy to do it, I just don't know what it is. Letters to pastors? Letters to the Eastern Oklahoma Catholic? What? Any suggestions?

Ben

*Sitting there at St. Pius X Church, examining the late-60's architecture (think "church in the round") I couldn't help but wonder what Pope St. Pius X must think about this monstrosity of modernism committed in his name.

Moleskine notebooks

Anyone else but me on this list a lover of Moleskine notebooks? You remember that post below where I advertised the Amazon Kindle e-Book reader? Well the Molekine is like the anti-Kindle. They're a line of notebooks in various sizes and formats that can be used to record dates, notes, opinions, drawings -- whatever you can commit to paper with pen, pencil or crayon -- you can jot it down in your Moleskine. They've been used for years by famous artists and novelists like Ernest Hemingway. (Which reminds me -- it's been too long since I've re-read Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, his famous novel-journal of his life in Paris in the Twenties.) I like the soft-cover, lined version. (See above.) How 'bout y'all? Anyone else a Moleskine fan? Go here for the Moleskine website: http://www.moleskine.com/

maggie and milly and molly and may

maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach (to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea ee cummings

Gotta Have it: Kindle2

The Amazon Kindle 2

Okay, so I'd heard about this thing on the various tech blogs and sites I'll admit to reading.

But frankly, it just didn't grab me.

Over the weekend, however, I was searching for a book and came across these videos about the Kindle.

I'm singing a different tune now. 1500 books? Download from anywhere without a computer or WiFi connection? What's not to love?

Check it out:

Say Hello to The New Kindle

Slim: Just over 1/3 of an inch, as thin as most magazines Lightweight: At 10.2 ounces, lighter than a typical paperback Wireless: 3G wireless lets you download books right from your Kindle, anytime, anywhere; no monthly fees, service plans, or hunting for Wi-Fi hotspots Books in Under 60 Seconds: Get books delivered in less than 60 seconds; no PC required Improved Display: Reads like real paper; now boasts 16 shades of gray for clear text and even crisper images Longer Battery Life: 25% longer battery life; read for days without recharging More Storage: Take your library with you; holds over 1,500 books Faster Page Turns: 20% faster page turns Read-to-Me: With the new text-to-speech feature, Kindle can read every newspaper, magazine, blog, and book out loud to you, unless the book is disabled by the rights holder Large Selection: Over 275,000 books plus U.S. and international newspapers, magazines, and blogs available Low Book Prices: New York Times Best Sellers and New Releases $9.99, unless marked otherwise

Vocations: I Love Being an Attorney

Spent the morning giving my prayer and financial talks to a Pre-Cana class at the Church of the Madalene. I really love what I do. Deo gratias.

When I was in my twenties and in college, I did a stint with U.S. Senator Don Nickle's (R-Oklahoma) office in Tulsa for a brief semester. It was an unpaid internship, and they set me to work answering phones as sort of an "ombudsman" position. (For the uninitiated, that means they gave me the work no one else in the office wanted to do.)

Fascinating variety, let me tell you. I took calls from people irate about their trash pickup (not usually something a U.S. Senator deals with) to people calling about problems dealing with their son in the military, and the usual Social Security payments, and alien abductions thrown in for good measure, and even including calls from the local Peruvian ambassador (Tulsa has an embassy, in case you didn't know.) Boring, it was not.

I remember thinking at the time, "Boy - if I were independently wealthy, this is EXACTLY what I'd like to do!" And I meant that with all sincerity. It was wonderful work and the joy of helping people (crazy or not) was such a boon. I loved every minute of it. Really.

Today, of course, I don't work for the senator. But I do work for people facing problems. I'm an attorney - a bankruptcy and consumer law attorney. People come to me with seemingly intractable problems, and I help them.

This one is facing foreclosure and thinks they might lose their home. This one is recently laid-off, and has no savings to fall back on. Those over there are about to be sued by their creditors, and don't know what to do.

All of these people come to me. And I help them. Much of the time that simply means helping them understand what they're facing and what they can do about it. What the worst-case scenario is, and why chances are it won't happen -- but that if it does, I will be there to defend them.

God in heaven, thank you. I love my job. Please let me continue to serve You by serving them.

I don't work for a U.S. Senator, and I can't boss around lackeys at the Library of Congress, but I *DO* get to help people.

Deo gratias, indeed.

The Passion

Holy Week - The Triduum

Finally, we arrive at the Triduum -- almost at the very foot of the Cross.

As usual I am limping into Holy Week, my soul caked with failed resolutions, splattered with the mud of my failures, and all my imperfections intact. They ride upon my shoulder mocking me and pulling at my beard (actually I jettisoned the Lenten beard about 3 weeks ago, no longer able to withstand the discomfort and embarrassment.)

And so I stand here on the brink of failure.

But little do they know, for my Savior does not share my weaknesses and imperfections. He, strong beyond strength, trudges on to Calvary in my place. He is Holy, He is Perfect, He is preparing even now to withstand the loneliness of the garden at Gethsemane. He knows what He must do, and He alone is strong enough to withstand it. He will save me. He will.

Holy Thursday

Last evening we made it to our Latin Mass parish for Maundy Thursday Mass. The church itself and the holy images of Christ on the crucifix, the saints obscured now in dark purple -- representing penance -- a reminder of how spare and joyless this world would be without the presence of God and Christ. "The world would easier survive without the sun, than without the Mass" said Padre Pio, according to our pastor. Even the holy water fonts are dry, as a reminder of the spiritual poverty we are about to face.

Holy Thursday Mass is a memorial of the Last Supper at which Christ instituted the Holy Eucharist ("My flesh is real food, my blood is real drink") hidden beneath the auspices of bread and wine. He is really and truly present on the altar -- the priest an alter Christus ("another Christ") who has been given the power to re-produce Christ's sacrifice on the altar before him.

We watched as twelve of my friends -- men every bit as holy, and because they are men, every bit as sinful as I am -- patiently waited while our good and holy priest, Fr. Peter Byrne, FSSP, humbly washed their feet in imitation of our Savior who washed the feet of the twelve disciples on that Thursday night two millennium before.

After Communion and Mass is finished, the Blessed Sacrament -- Christ's actual body, blood, soul and divinity -- solemnly processed around the interior of the church while the congregation led by the crystal voices of our women's schola, sang the Latin hymn the Tantum Ergo (Google it) to the altar of repose. Whereupon the main altar was stripped of its altar cloths and the remaining six candlesticks which mark the traditional Mass arrangement, finally the Gospel is repeated: "Diviserunt sibi vestimenta mea: et super vestem meam miserunt sortem" ("They parted my garments amongst them: and upon my vesture they cast lots.")

The rubrics of the traditional Mass say here, simply and finally: "The celebrant and sacred ministers [servers] return in silence to the sacristy."

Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Movie Review: Knowing

Knowing

Went to see the new Nicholas Cage movie, Knowing, last night -- on opening day.

That last fact is significant, because I am decidedly NOT the typical movie-goer. In fact, I'm infamous for my lack of interest in movies of the day. It is not at all unusual for me to have not seen a popular movie -- I've not seen the latest Batman movie, or any of the X-men series for instance. (In fact, nothing strikes me as more infantile than going to see a comic-book movie, but I digress.) Suffice to say, I don't care to see most movies.

But, I've been waiting with bated breath for weeks now to see Knowing. Why?

I caught the trailer a couple of weeks ago on iTunes, and immediately became hooked on the premise: a time-capsule is opened from 50 years ago, and an elementary schoolgirl's 1958 contribution to the time-capsule is unearthed which foretells disasters past, present and future. It falls to the main character of the movie, an M.I.T. professor played by Cage, to decipher the doomsday message.

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon, the movie's opening day, when I pulled up the Rotten Tomatoes site to see how the flick was faring among those who'd seen it. I was chagrined to see that it had a 24% rotten-tomato rating. In a word, most who saw it hated it. "Crackpot", "bizarre", etc. were the adjectives used to describe the movie. It was compared unfavorably to M. Night Shyamalan's work. But notably -- for me, anyway -- a common complaint was that it was "religious". The reviews were almost enough to dissuade me from seeing the film. Again -- I'm not a film buff; can't stand to sit through most of them. (Invariably fall asleep whenever my kids put a Lord of the Rings DVD into the player at home.)

But, the critics used that word "religious", which for me was like my parent's telling me I wouldn't like something in a lame attempt at reverse psychology. Religious? Nicholas Cage? Really? So I took the plunge, plugged in my credit card and bought two tickets (later three, because I had to buy one for my 14 year old who wanted to see it too.)

So how was it? Unbelievably good. And remember -- this is a non-movie fan talking here -- I'd much prefer browsing the internet to seeing the usual latest Hollywood blockbuster. Full of suspense, it kept me on the edge the whole way through. Excellent -- best movie (faint praise, I suppose) I've seen in years.

But not for everyone, it seems.

I saw more than one person who got up and walked out before it was done. (One group of teenaged kids yelled loudly as they exited, "This movie sucks!") Why? I asked my wife the same question later. She thought it was the subject matter. I think she's onto something. The movie's not necessarily a rosy scenario, for sure. And it did involve massive death and destruction. (I know? So, what's not to like? Go figure.)

I think that some of the reaction has to do with the fact that most people just do not want to contemplate what the Church calls the Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven or Hell -- a rather different "Final Four", if you will. "Give me fluff, give me sexual intrigue, give me madcap comedy -- just don't make me face reality", society seems to say.

Sigh. Oh well, yet another example of my not fitting in with the times. But you? If you'd enjoy a stem-winding doomsday thriller, I'd highly recommend it. Good stuff.

Dedication of new chapel at Thomas Aquinas College

Oh my goodness! This is incomparably beautiful. (Post from The New Liturgical Movement blog, with pictures by Austin Welsh, a friend of mine.) Enjoy!

Monday, March 09, 2009

A Glorious Weekend on a Few Fronts at Thomas Aquinas College

by Shawn Tribe

---

We have been treated to some particularly fine examples of new church architecture in the past couple of years and this past weekend was no exception as the glorious new chapel of Thomas Aquinas College, Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity, was consecrated. It is a glorious structure indeed and, I am particularly pleased to report, includes a number of stunning architectural features, including a ciborium magnum. Austin Welsh sent in these photographs of the church:

(Finishing touches were still being put in place when this photo was taken) (The papal arms of Benedict XVI) (The beautiful ciborium) (The sacristy) Do make certain to go and look at more on his Flickr Photoset which includes a number of other details and angles. The next day, as the Faithful Rebel reports:

The first Mass offered upon the newly consecrated altar after Saturday's dedication Mass was a solemn High Mass offered ... by Father John Berg, Superior General of the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter. The Deacon for the Mass was Father Robert Fromageot and the Subdeacon was Father Matthew McNeely, both Fraternity priests.

His Excellency, Bishop Salvatore Cordileone, Auxiliary Bishop of San Diego, was in choir. (Photos courtesy of Tommy Duffy and The Faithful Rebel) This was not all however:

Perhaps just as remarkable was the later Mass offered on Sunday in the Ordinary Form. Bishop Cordileone was the celebrant of this Mass. Remarkably, he offered the Mass facing the altar, in Latin, with the traditional candlestick arrangement remaining from the earlier Solemn High Mass.

Sadly, no photos of this Mass have been forthcoming yet. If any reader has any, please send them in. In concluding, I must share this final wonderful picture from The Faithful Rebel:

Mass365: Another One Bites the Dust!

Aw snap! For a second time this year, my schedule and the stars conspired against me. No Mass today.

I really didn't think it would be this hard to attend Daily Mass. The trouble today was it was Monday -- the traditional day that Catholic priests take off, and as a result, fewer masses are offered on Monday than any other day, by far.

The day started off with a slow start, and by noon I had decided to take a tour of the Parent and Child Center of Tulsa -- a favorite charity of one of our partners, who had invited my wife Tracy to take part. (That was excellent, by the way. You really should support this charity, they do education on parenting to help prevent child abuse. A fine, fine organization.)

So anyway, I thought to myself -- "No problem - I'll just hit the 5:05 pm daily Mass at the cathedral." Indeed, at 5 o'clock I gathered up my Macbook and rushed out to get over there, only to find that the doors were locked. "No problem" suddenly became "big problem" as I realized my mistake -- there IS no 5:05 p.m. daily Mass on Mondays.

Even worse was that the only Mass left (the 6:30 p.m. at St. Joseph's Vietnamese Catholic Church in far East Tulsa) directly conflicted with a previous commitment I'd made to Tracy to attend a "Let's Talk" program at St. Bernard's of Clairvaux (in far south Tulsa).

Sigh, and ai-yi-yi.

Betcha East coast Catholics don't have this difficulty.

It's here: My new Macbook!

Oh lovely! Oh marvelous! Your screen is like a limpid pool of video goodness! Ms. Apple Macbook, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Wow. Just wow.

Got the Macbook yesterday afternoon and have now used it for a little less than 24 hours. In that time, I've learned to love the new multi-touch Trackpad, used the Photo Booth app to make pictures and video with Cam and Maddie, used iMovie to record and edit my first professional video (still in progress) to place as a Welcome on my professional blog (http://tulsabankruptcyandconsumerlaw.blogspot.com, if anyone's checking), and played with the "Cover Flow" method of reviewing my docs.

It is an amazing piece of technology and design. Even the packaging is so unbelievably well thought out, that you stand in awe of Apple and their accomplishments. This is the result of unflinching, unstoppable, unquenchable focus on excellence. I recently put forth a Steve Jobs (co-founder and chairman of Apple Computer) quote to the effect that he simply cannot understand why anyone would want to do anything that was not "insanely great."

Yes, indeed. It shows.

Mass365: Monday, March 2, 2009 - Marian Chapel, Church of Saint Mary

So Monday morning, eager to get back on the daily Mass "horse" (if I may be slightly profane), I arranged to get up a little earlier than usual. The reason? 6:30 a.m. Mass at the Church of Saint Mary's Marian Chapel. Normally on Mondays and any other day during the week, I attend the noon Mass at Holy Family Cathedral. However, on Monday, I had a conflicting appointment. And since Mondays are typically the day of the week that priests "stand down" from their shepherding duties, there are far fewer masses offered on Monday than any other day of the week. (Indeed, previous Mondays have resulted in my attending Mass in Vietnamese at St. Joseph's Vietnamese Catholic Church -- Monday's "last chance saloon" for daily mass goers.) And so on this particular Monday, I added a new place to my roster of places where I've celebrated Mass: the Marian Chapel at Saint Mary's in Brookside. Actually, I may have been here before. The only time I remember attending a Catholic Mass as a child was with my closest childhood friend, Chris Egan, who lived catty-corner of us in Brookside and whose family were the only Catholics I'd ever encountered. I don't remember much about that event, but I do clearly remember that it was at the Church of Saint Mary -- the parish in which we lived, and in fact I still live -- though we attend the Latin Mass parish of St. Peter today. The Marian Chapel was a pleasant surprise. This was because I was expecting Mass in the main church -- a "church in the round" (read: monstrosity of heretical architectural mania) -- which was newly built about 10 to 15 years ago at Saint Mary's. To tell the truth, I hate the place. Modern. Ugly. Devoid of any focus whatsoever. (See photo above, which although ugly enough, doesn't begin to show just how ugly a place it is. Ahem.) So when I drove up and followed the small crowd of people in the pre-dawn darkness of Monday morning I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were heading NOT into the large new sanctuary where Mass is normally held, but instead into the cozy and old chapel at the South end of the church. Mass there was with a friendly and familiar bunch of people -- people who obviously attend that mass on a very regular basis. (I did note that no one present was devoid of grey hair, also.) Mass was celebrated by Fr. Swift, an elderly priest who nonetheless gave a very cogent homily about Matthew 25 (the Gospel reading from Monday) and how rare it was that he had heard confessions of sins of omission over his long career as a priest and confessor. Apparently people focus a bit too much on the sins they actually commit, versus the sins that they commit by not acting, "Lord, when did I see you hungry and not feed you?") I want to note one rather odd practice that I've never seen anywhere else: when it came time for communion, instead of having both sides of the chapel file up to the center of the ambo to receive our Lord's Body and Blood in the Eucharist, first only the right or "Epistle"* side of the congregation filed up to receive, while the left, or "Gospel"* side, remained seated. Only after all of the epistle side of the church had received did anyone on the Gospel side rise to begin filing up to the altar. Weird. It was a very moving and warm experience, and I look forward to joining these early risers at the 6:30 a.m. Mass at Saint Mary's again sometime soon. FBC *The Epistle and Gospel "sides" of the church refer to the practice under the Tridentine Rite (the old pre-Vatican II Latin Mass) of the priest reading the Epistle from the right, then moving to the left side of the altar to read the Gospel reading from that side. This terminology is probably all but lost, except to that small band of die-hard liturgical types who attend the Latin Mass.) **Roster of Mass sites, thus far for Mass365:

• Marian Chapel Church of Saint Mary, Tulsa OK
• Sacred Heart Church, Miami OK
• St. Philip Neri Newman Center, The University of Tulsa campus
• Holy Family Cathedral, Tulsa OK
• Parish of St. Peter (at St. Augustine Catholic Church), Tulsa OK (Tridentine or Latin Extraordinary Rite)
• St. Athanasius / Chapel of the Theotokos (at St. Augustine Catholic Church), Tulsa OK (Byzantine Rite of the Eastern Catholic Church)
• St. Joseph Vietnamese Catholic Church, Tulsa OK
• Church of the Madelene, Tulsa OK
• National Basilica Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Washington DC
• Basilica Cathedral of St. Louis, St. Louis MO
• Our Lady of Lourdes Shrine Chapel, atop Mt. Saint Mary, Emmittsburg MD
• Verizon Center Youth Mass, Washington DC
• St. Andrews Catholic Church, Richmond IN
• St. Bernard of Clairvaux Catholic Church, Tulsa OK
• Chapel of Peace, Holy Family Cathedral, Tulsa OK
• Roman Catholic Church of the Resurrectioin, Tulsa OK

Don't Dare Dance in Pinal County, AZ

Saw this great story at Reason online (www.reason.tv), about harassment faced by some people who want to ... dance ... in Arizona(?). Yep. Can't have that, of course. If we did, who knows what might happen next? Freedom?

A Dog Named Blue

Saw this great story, apparently true, on a website that sells briefcases. Ah well. Here's to great dogs like Blue, and my sweetheart chocolate lab, Abby. fbc From Saddleback Leather Company's website: http://saddlebackleather.com/37-in-memory-of-blue

In Memory of Blue

Dear friend of mine, Blue

A man may smile and bid you hail Yet wish you to the devil; But when a good dog wags his tail, You know he's on the level

"Some roads aren't meant to be travelled alone"

I walked in with my guitar, lined up the three little black lab puppies and then strummed a few chords to see if that would somehow help me decide. One just laid there, one scurried off under a chair and one started wagging his tail. When I did it again and got the same result, I reached down and picked up my dog.

From that day on, Blue was my constant and faithful companion wagging his tail millions of times over again.

He brought so much joy into my life that I can hardly start to tell you. He kept me company all day long for years and years. He was a great listener, never complained and protected me like no other. In return, I gave him a cool life.

His life was far from dull. He was killed in a car wreck in an ice storm and revived, run over by a car (by me), knew more Spanish than most of my friends, was stolen once (I got him back), had an active romantic life (60+ puppies in Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico City, Oregon, Texas, New Mexico, Cd. Juarez and probably a few places I don't know about), swam in 23 states, ate lots and lots of people food, and slept out under the stars hundreds of times. I suppose one could say that he lived a Dog's Life.

Blue rode with me I don't know how many hundreds of thousands of miles all over the North American continent, sitting behind me with his chin on my shoulder. He slept by my side every night; even when I slept on top of the Land Cruiser. He would run and jump onto the hood, over the windshield and onto the rack.

Of all my time sleeping in the mountains, deserts and behind gas stations when I couldn't drive anymore, Blue kept me safe. Once, we were camping along the Rio Grande in New Mexico and Blue just kept staring down the river, growling. We left.

We've had some good times, me and Blue. Every small town we lived in, everyone knew Blue. Driving through town, he would stick his head out and bark and from both sides of the street, people would wave and holler "Hola Blue! Hola Blue!" They all loved Blue, but not as much I did. Heck, who else would put a page in honor of their dog on their professional website? Did I mention that he once cost me $9000? But that's another story.

He certainly wasn't a backyard dog that I threw a bone to now and then. We were usually together 24 hours a day. He always had to be leaning against me at night and during the day always had to at least have his paw or chin resting on me in the truck. When I was sad, he was quiet. When I was happy, he was too. He knew me almost better than a human could have and I knew him almost better than I know myself.

Well, I knew that our friendship couldn't last forever and I dreaded the day that I would have to give him back to the earth. I hated the thought of it and hate it even more now. Blue passed away January 7th, 2008. That day was rough to say the least.

God knew it would be hard for me if I had been left alone in this world, so He blessed me with the warm comfort of my beautiful wife and 6 month old baby girl. They didn't make it any easier, but they sure were a blessed comfort. He didn't suffer and he ate well until the end, but he had cancer in his lungs and so just coughed continuously. On the last day, he couldn't lay down so I took him in. The drive to the vet was the toughest one hour drive of my life. I don't even know how I drove it, but he sat next to me silently staring at the highway ahead, just like always. My heart ached then and it still does.

Blue got his start in New Mexico and so I knew that that was where he needed to rest. I wanted him to be near the river that he had played in for so many hours and out in the desert where we had squandered days and days away together.

So, I took him way way out into the desert across the Rio Grande and buried him atop a tall bluff overlooking the the river. It was a solid place where he would have a good view and no one would bother him. A very fitting and honoring place to say goodbye to that dear friend of mine.

Dogs in Heaven?

My dad tells the story of a teary eyed little girl who showed up to church just after her beloved dog had died. The pastor heard about it and so went to talk with her. The little girl told him what had happened and then asked, "Will my dog be in Heaven"? The pastor said, "Sweetheart, if it takes your dog being in Heaven for you to be happy, then he'll be there." I believe there is some truth in that. King Solomon, the wisest man to ever live, wrote about animals having a spirit and that it goes somewhere.

In the last book of the Bible, Revelation, God teaches us that the present universe in which we live will go away and will be replaced with a new heaven and a new earth. God also says that He will make all things new. For these reasons, I believe it to be a definite possibility that our pets will be made new and that those who are children of God will be reunited with them.

My Favorite True Dog Loyalty Story

In Edinburgh, Scotland 1856, wherever Auld Jock (John Gray) went, his best friend, Bobby, followed close behind. In just a few short years, the two developed quite a friendship as constant companions. In 1858 Auld Jock fell ill with tuberculosis and died, leaving Bobby all alone in the world.

He was buried at Greyfriar's Kirkyard cemetery with nobody but the gravedigger and his faithful furry companion, Bobby, attending the funeral. There was a ban on dogs entering the cemetery and despite efforts to prevent him, Bobby would find a way to sit next to Auld Jock every day.

During 1867, it looked like for a while that Bobby, without an owner, would be taken off the streets and be put to sleep. Thankfully, Edinburgh's Lord Provost, Sir William Chambers stepped in and paid for Bobby's dog license renewal, to which he became a ward of the city's council.

For 14 years, Bobby could be found at his best friend's gravesite. To sustain him during his long vigils at the cemetery, he would receive a meal daily at 1 p.m. at the Greyfriar's Dining Room. In 1872, when Bobby died, he was buried beside the grave of his adored Auld Jock, having been awarded ‘Freeman of the City' status. Having touched the hearts of all who knew him and his plight to watch over Auld Jock, Greyfriars Bobby was the only dog ever to have been awarded this.

The Scotsman newspaper archives reveal the obituary of a Skye Terrier on January 17th, 1872 and a statue was erected in his honor. Upon it reads, "Greyfriars Bobby. Died 14th January 1872 aged 16 years old. Let his loyalty and devotion be a lesson to us all."

What a day it will be when I see Blue again, dear friend of mine.