Do You Have a Minute?

"Hey buddy—" he seemed friendly enough, so I inquiringly glanced at him as I drew near, and he continued—"Do you have a minute…to support gay marriage?"

With my short answer of "No thanks" he looked at me like I'd murdered his puppy. I walked on. What else was there to do?

As I entered the library I thought about this situation, and how absurd his position was. He and so many like him choose to define themselves by a movement, by a label, perhaps by certain behaviors. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, but if someone expresses an opinion against their movement, their label, their behaviors, it's no longer a reasoned position—it has become personal. Judging from the grave and disbelieving way that he looked at me, I have no doubt that he believed (as his movement has taught him to) that I hate him.

How could I hate such a man? My heart bleeds for him and for all those others like him who sell themselves short every day, sacrificing their individuality and their gifts for the sake of a temporal movement that is misguided and unnatural. I pray that they will have the wisdom to see the world from outside their own shallow and self-centered perspectives—a big step we all must take—and see themselves as agents of goodness in a world gone awry. How will gay marriage feed the hungry? How will it give purpose to the broken and dejected, how will it bring about peace in a world that is perennially on the brink of unprecedented destruction?

Do you have a minute? Say a prayer for such people today, if you can. But be sure also to pray for those in need of food, water, and shelter, and those in need of God's Love. That ought to cover all of us.

The Entry Where I Spoil Matchstick Men (I’m serious)

I am currently experiencing one of those splendid and rarefied spans of moments of complete confidence and sheer inspiration. If I may borrow one of J.K. Rowling’s best ideas without glorifying her too much, I have just drunk a bottle of Felix Felicis. I see the path of life drawn out before me; and though the route is as unclear as ever, I do possess the two real essentials to a successful journey; the first is a goal, which I have had for years, thanks to the Catholic religion I was born into and have embraced as the Truth. The second essential, bestowed upon me yet again by divine inspiration, is the more elusive, as it involves more than just a willful leap of faith and devotion. The second is the modus operandi, the method of working—which, God bless it, comes out from behind the clouds of uncertainty every now and then to shine its light upon us.

I just finished watching the movie Matchstick Men. It tells a tale of loss, illusion, and redemption, and reminds us that if we keep our noses clean (morally as well as legally), we never have to worry about much. It tells us the tale of an expert of deception who has nonetheless kept a portion of his soiled soul spotless, a man who receives a life-shattering dose of his own medicine when he is taken in by several who do not share his scrappy scruples, and thus have a slight edge in the crafty craft of con-artistry. In the end, Roy’s decency is what destroys him, or at least what he assumed was “him.” What we find out, in the crucial moments at his ex-wife’s door, when the depth of the deception finally hits home, is that—although his life lies in a shambles, with almost no money, no worldly credentials, and no real family—he is just fine. Indeed, as Roy himself iterates with a fledgling but hopeful confidence, “everything’s all right.” Out of the ashes of the two-bit Phoenix that was Roy’s former life as a con-man, we see the real Roy rise up; the Roy who forced himself to rationalize his spoils as “given, not taken,” the Roy who “never used violence,” the Roy who reached out to the nice checkout lady at the supermarket, like a withered plant inclining toward cracks of light through closed rafters. That is what carried Roy through to the end of his sinful life, and that, we finally see, is what carries him into the bright future. In the epilogue scene at the carpet store where Roy has built a clean livelihood, his brief meeting and parting with his “daughter” shows us that he has overcome any ill will which he might have held against his looters. We see a man who is free to fly because, in the words of G.K. Chesterton, like the angels he “can take himself lightly.” Matchstick Men reminds us that nice guys do not finish last—they may wind up in last place, but they always have time to work out of the hole and regain the good they were made for.

I suppose this movie just reminded me to be confident. After watching it, I realize I am ready to begin the next schoolyear. I feel like I can do exactly what I’m supposed to do. I’m excited to face opportunities to stand up for what I believe in, to proudly be the person God wants me to be; to be open to new possibilities, but also open to the mere continuation of old realities.

“To be content with where I am,
Getting where I need to be,
And moving past the past where I have failed.”

I am excited to exercise the grace which God has blessed me with this summer, to let the spiritual discoveries of these months germinate and flower into strong trees of good work and wholesome habits in my sojourns with the wider world. I am looking forward to the future months so intensely, and that is why my highest hopes are fulfilled by actually being plopped right here, in this moment, several weeks before all those busy days begin. One might say it is the final exam of summer school. Conventional wisdom, and Catholic theology, say that the way we finish the journey is the strongest indication of how we conducted it. Finishing strong is the only true reflection of a strong performance.

Did I learn anything this summer? Ha! How could I not have? I acted like an idiot enough (and felt bad about it) to learn quite a bit about compassion, authenticity, and honesty. At the same time, I also worked hard to build myself up, and thus learned the blessing and strength of good habits (and the easy poison of bad ones). I felt the push of a noble purpose and a steamrolling confidence drawn solely from the divine team I’m playing for.

I guess what I am trying to say is that these final weeks are the final test of this current crop of moments, and a sort of runway into the year. If I run this final stretch well, I will be ready to run the whole year. If I stumble, I may not get back up until next June. Spiritually speaking, that’s a long time down, way longer than I can afford.

So here I leave you, as always, at a crossroads; my decisions in the next few weeks will decide my ultimate destiny, of that I am sure. But then again, is that ever not the case?

Signing off with love and prayers for you,
Joezilla