Catholicism reverts (again)

[Fist and Faith]

OK, that makes perfect sense, but I thought this was addressed in the Bible, though I freely admit that I may be wrong.

But if it is just Catholic Dogma, how do the other Christian faiths reconcile Jesus?

Well, I know Unitarianism reconciles it the same way I reconcile Zaphod Beeblebrox. "He vas just zis really great guy, you know?"

That's my belief, too. I doubt the most influential figure in human history never existed at all, even if I don't believe he was anything other than a human being. I believe he was of such character that he changed the world.

EDIT: I agree with Av. Its like when someone tells you not to do something, the pull/desire to find out why we can't do it becomes so great, when b4, you didn't even think about it.

Yeah, it can become a desire of great strength. But even without any desire, imo, the simple recognition of right and wrong, and the decision to choose right, says a great deal about a person.

Stupid Eve! If it wasn't for that nosy b*tch we'd be running around bare assed and happy as clams

Indeed! Ignorance is bliss! Heh. Still, if we were allowed to vote on the matter, I would not vote to change humanity to a state where we have no knowledge of good/evil.

What I thought you were saying was something along (Buddhist?) lines, that thinking an evil thought is karmically equivalent to committing an evil act. (Which I disagree with.)

Jesus also said it. Matthew 5: 27-29:

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery.' But I say to you that every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and throw it away; it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell."

One of the times I disagree with Jesus' words. Utter nonsense, imo.

Hope is evil. The greeks believed in Predetermination.

Hope is not evil, and the Greeks were wrong.

[emotional leper]

Hope is Suffering. Hope causes pain. Give into Despair, and be free.

*Puts down the Tequila Sunrise*

Hope causes one to believe contrary to reality. Hope gives you a false sense of well-being. It causes you not to accept what really is. I have never hoped that my Grandmother will all of a sudden lose her Senile Dementia: It's never going to happen. I have abandoned all hope of her ever being who she will be ever again, and accepted the fact that she is going to be like this till she dies. In abandoning hope, I am comforted. I realise that my Grandmother really died a long time ago, and what's left is not her. When her shell dies, I will not be sad, because I've already mourned her death.

Hope deludes me into thinking that people are better than what they are. That people will change. That the world will be a better place because things ALWAYS get better. They don't. Things change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Hope deludes us into thinking we don't have to act.

[Menolly]

Hope is Suffering. Hope causes pain. Give into Despair, and be free.

*Puts down the Tequila Sunrise*

Hope causes one to believe contrary to reality. Hope gives you a false sense of well-being. It causes you not to accept what really is. I have never hoped that my Grandmother will all of a sudden lose her Senile Dementia: It's never going to happen. I have abandoned all hope of her ever being who she will be ever again, and accepted the fact that she is going to be like this till she dies. In abandoning hope, I am comforted. I realise that my Grandmother really died a long time ago, and what's left is not her. When her shell dies, I will not be sad, because I've already mourned her death.

Hope deludes me into thinking that people are better than what they are. That people will change. That the world will be a better place because things ALWAYS get better. They don't. Things change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Hope deludes us into thinking we don't have to act.

We are truly going to have some interesting discussions when you get here, EL. I'm too self conscious to put my non-coherant thoughts on the matter on board, but I'm not so self-censoring when speaking (sometimes much to my regret).

Just don't turn Beorn to the Dark side too much, OK? He'll probably run into that influence enough as he enters his freshman year at GHS...

[Avatar]

Hoping doesn't mean ignoring the fact that your hope will probably never come to pass though.

Sure, in certain cases, hope is obviously futile. In others its a possibility.

Certainly I see your point from my own cynical position, and largely agree with you. But hope can as easily be combined with action as inaction.

It all depends on the context really.

--A

[emotional leper]

Hoping doesn't mean ignoring the fact that your hope will probably never come to pass though.

Sure, in certain cases, hope is obviously futile. In others its a possibility.

Certainly I see your point from my own cynical position, and largely agree with you. But hope can as easily be combined with action as inaction.

It all depends on the context really.

--A

Hope is always futile. It wastes resources, both mental and real (as in real property) that could be better spent bringing about the outcome you're hoping for.

If some guys wakes up one morning and notices a lump where it shouldn't be, what's better? Hoping it's not testicular cancer, or going to the doctor and finding out? And if it is testicular cancer, what's better? Hoping that it goes into remission on its own, or getting the orchidectomy and possibly chemo and radiation treatments?

Hope and Idealism seem to go hand in hand, and I hate Idealists. Much like sixteen year olds who wear the Anarchy 'A' and talk about how much anarchy is great, I think they should have the crap beaten out of them. Hopeful idealists are little more than children, and the only thing children understand is fear, and pain, and fear of pain.

Hope lets you not take responsibility for your actions. Hope makes you into one of the sheep.

[Cail]

That's certainly one interpretation, but a pretty nihilistic one.

For hope to be effective, action has to follow.

[DukkhaWaynhim]

Hope is a precious thing, because it bespeaks an attitude that is desperately needed in modern society.

Hope doesn't keep you from getting cancer, but I have seen it dramatically impact whether or not the person survives it, both ways. Some people will go so far as to tell you hope can even keep the doctor away - that hopeful people lead healthier lives. That may be overstating things a bit. Believe what you want, but don't be surprised if your half empty glass doubles as a Petri dish.

Go into x without hope (where x is a tennis match, an exam, a court proceeding, a funeral, a job interview, a burning building, a bingo game, or a relationship) and your worst fears are bound to be realized.

The Secret is certainly an overmarketed money making scheme, but dig through the pap and find the tiny nugget of truth in there. Despite the random things that happen to us all, we have a great deal of control over our own paths, whether we walk, crawl, stumble, slide, or slither along them. [/pulpit]

dw

[Menolly]

Thanks dw...

Ditto

[Fist and Faith]

Sheesh, EL, I swear the temperature dropped in my room as I was reading your posts.

I hope I can raise my children to be kind to others. But if there's no hope, I guess I won't try. They'll be selfish s.o.b.'s no matter what, eh? And what would make me think I can bring such qualities out in them anyway???

My marriage ended. Neither of us had had an affair, and neither had anyone waiting in the wings. I dated a woman for several months, but I just didn't love her, so I ended it. I had dates with a few other women after that, but felt nothing. I was becoming rather depressed over the fact that I didn't seem to have the capacity for love any longer, and I had always considered love to be the reason for being alive. But with nothing but hope for something or other, even if it didn't end up being the glorious LOVE I'd always imagined having, I kept looking. (On cupid.com, btw. heh) And then I found the love of my life; the love I'd always known should exist, but never truly expected to find. But at 42, I found it.

[Menolly]

Heh. Don't worry Fist. EL has me to contend with now when he returns to Gator Town. I'll shower him with such Jewish Mother care he'll have to reconsider his outlook.

*snicker*

[Avatar]

Yeah, I'm with Fist and Cail. (Oh, btw, I consider myself a rational anarchist...we can argue about it elsewhere though. )

Sure, if you just lie in bed and hope, and only hope, you're deluding yourself. Or relying on the random fluctuations of the universe. But if, as Cail said, you combine that hope with action, then being positive certainly does no harm.

(I'm a believer in thinking positive, and not worrying about what you can't take action to change. )

--A

[Cail]

That's why I like the Serenity Prayer so much, 'cause I think that addressed it perfectly.

God, give me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

[Avatar]

You forgot..."and the good luck not to **** up too often."



--A

[Cail]

Well, that's just assumed.....

[emotional leper]

Heh. Don't worry Fist. EL has me to contend with now when he returns to Gator Town. I'll shower him with such Jewish Mother care he'll have to reconsider his outlook.

*snicker*

Take care about exactly what kind of Jewish Mother care you shower me with. I've very nearly been converted to Judaism (or converted back to,) once before.

[Menolly]

Even if one converts out of Judaism, they are always welcome back into the tribes. I think all that's required is a braha of thankgiving at the return. I would have to research further to be sure.

Once a Jew, always a Jew. At least culturally. It's the reason Lubavitch welcomes Beorn and me, despite me being intermarried and practically non-observant in their eyes. And I accept that.

[Furls Fire]

My marriage ended. Neither of us had had an affair, and neither had anyone waiting in the wings. I dated a woman for several months, but I just didn't love her, so I ended it. I had dates with a few other women after that, but felt nothing. I was becoming rather depressed over the fact that I didn't seem to have the capacity for love any longer, and I had always considered love to be the reason for being alive. But with nothing but hope for something or other, even if it didn't end up being the glorious LOVE I'd always imagined having, I kept looking. (On cupid.com, btw. heh) And then I found the love of my life; the love I'd always known should exist, but never truly expected to find. But at 42, I found it.

And thus, my prayers for you were answered.

Hope, Prayer, Joy, Love, God...to me, they are all the same.

And to the topic of this thread. Sweet mercy, what a huge step backward the Church has just taken. I cringed when I heard this. John Paul made so much "progress", for lack of a better word. Sigh...

People, should never be condemned by other people for their faith or lack there of. There is personal choice, there is personal belief, there are personal, sacred inner souls. I have never felt that my beliefs should be forced on others, nor have I ever felt that my way was the only way. Such attitudes defy peace.

[emotional leper]

Yeah, I'm with Fist and Cail. (Oh, btw, I consider myself a rational anarchist...we can argue about it elsewhere though. )

Sure, if you just lie in bed and hope, and only hope, you're deluding yourself. Or relying on the random fluctuations of the universe. But if, as Cail said, you combine that hope with action, then being positive certainly does no harm.

(I'm a believer in thinking positive, and not worrying about what you can't take action to change. )

--A

I can't believe I missed that. Avatar, you and I have something in common. We both are Heinleinites.

[Avatar]

Haha, I guessed you'd spot the reference.

Furls, great post. *bows*

--A

[Lord Mhoram]

Lawrence Downes of the New York Times weighs in on the Latin Mass:

To a child in a Roman Catholic family, the rhythm of the Mass is absorbed into the body well before understanding reaches the brain. It becomes as lullingly familiar as a weekly drive to a relative’s house: opening prayers like quick turns though local streets, long freeway stretches of readings, homily and Eucharistic prayers, the quietude of communion and then — thanks be to God — the final blessing, a song and home to pancakes and the Sunday comics.

Last Sunday, I drove through a strange liturgical neighborhood. I attended a Tridentine Low Mass, the Latin rite that took hold in the 16th century, was abandoned in the 1960s for Mass in the local language and is poised for a revival now that Pope Benedict XVI has swept away the last bureaucratic obstacles to its use.

If you don’t remember L.B.J., you don’t remember the Latin Mass. At 42, I had never seen, heard or smelled one. Then a family trip took me to Chicago last weekend, and curiosity took me early Sunday morning to St. John Cantius, an old Polish parish on the Near West Side.

I went up the steps of the Renaissance-baroque church, through a stone doorway and back into my dimmest memories. Amid the grandeur of beeswax candles and golden statuary, the congregation was saying the rosary. I sat behind an older couple wearing scapulars as big as credit cards. I saw women with lace mantillas and a clutch of seminarians in the front rows, in black cassocks and crisp white surplices.

The sanctuary, behind a long communion rail, looked oddly barren because it lacked the modern altar on which a priest, facing the people, prepares the Eucharistic meal. The priest entered, led by altar boys. He wore a green and gold chasuble and a biretta, a black tufted hat, that he placed on a side table. His shaved head and stately movements gave the Mass a military bearing.

I couldn’t hear a thing.

I strained to listen, waited and, finally, in my dimness, realized that there was nothing to hear.

At a Low Mass, the priest prays unamplified or silently. The people do not speak or sing. They watch and read. All around me, people’s heads were buried in thick black missals. I flipped through my little red Latin-English paperback, trying to keep up. Had it been 50 years ago, I would have had every step memorized. But I didn’t know any of it.

I felt sheepish, particularly because I was surrounded by far more competent flock.

I also felt shaken and, irrationally, angry. Catholics are told that the church is the people of God, but from my silent pew, the people seemed irrelevant. This Mass belonged to Father and his altar boys, and it seemed that I could submit to that arrangement or leave. For the first time, I understood viscerally how some Catholics felt in the ’60s, when the Mass they loved went away.

I called Eugene Kennedy, professor, author and former priest, an old Chicagoan and eloquent critic of church matters. He is a scourge of the Catholic hierarchy, which he considers grasping and autocratic. But he spoke fondly of the old Mass, of the majesty to be unearthed by learning and praying it, like reading Proust in French. It contains a profound sense of mystery, he said, which is what religion is all about.

But he said he wouldn’t want it back. Priests aren’t ready; it takes years to learn. And forget about the laity, he said, which is accustomed to a half-century of liturgical participation and rudimentary parish democracy. He seemed certain that most Catholics would never go for it.

But St. John Cantius, once given up for dead, is thriving with an influx of new parishioners. In his homily, the pastor, the Rev. C. Frank Phillips, spoke proudly about the Latin Mass, which his parish was the first in Chicago to revive. He announced that it would soon be training priests in the old rite, which he vowed would restore the Catholic church to its place leading the world back to Christ.

Father Frank does not disparage the contemporary Mass, nor could he, lest he cast doubt on the legitimacy of the last 40 years of Catholic worship. But other traditionalists do not always share his tact. Their delight at the Latin revival can seem inseparable from their scorn for the Mass that eclipsed it, which they ridicule for its singing, handshaking and mushy modernity.

They’re right that Mass can be listless, with little solemnity and multiple sources of irritation: parents sedating children with Cheerios; priests preaching refrigerator-magnet truisms; amateur guitar strumming that was lame in 1973; teenagers slumping back after communion, hands in pockets, as if wishing they had been given gum instead.

Pope Benedict insists he is not taking the church on a nostalgia trip. He wants to re-energize it, and hopes that the Latin Mass, like an immense celestial object, will exert gravitational pull on the faithful.

Unless the church, which once had a problem with the law of gravity, can repeal inertia, too, then silent, submissive worship won’t go over well. Laypeople, women especially, have kept this battered institution going in a secular, distracted age. Reasserting the unchallenged authority of ordained men may fit the papal scheme for a purer church. But to hand its highest form of public worship entirely back to Father makes Latin illiterates like me irate.

It’s easy enough to see where this is going: same God, same church, but separate camps, each with an affinity for vernacular or Latin, John XXIII or Benedict XVI. Smart, devout, ambitious Catholics — ecclesial young Republicans, home-schoolers, seminarians and other shock troops of the faith — will have their Mass. The rest of us — a lumpy assortment of cafeteria Catholics, guilty parents, peace-’n’-justice lefties, stubborn Vatican II die-hards — will have ours. We’ll have to prod our snoozing pewmates when to sit and stand; they’ll have to rein in their zealots.

And we probably won’t see one another on Sunday mornings, if ever.

Link

Very interesting piece.