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Well, hey there. If you only visit on Fridays, check out the rest of my posts from this week – just click back. I commented on the Covington matter on Monday, and had some other posts as well. We heard a great performance of Carmina Burana, the 14-year old went to see Metallica, we went to an excellent new restaurant in town, I finally finished writing about The Hack…etc.
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Today’s the feast of the Conversion of Paul.
As can be seen, in all these passages Paul never once interprets this moment as an event of conversion. Why? There are many hypotheses, but for me the reason is very clear. This turning point in his life, this transformation of his whole being was not the fruit of a psychological process, of a maturation or intellectual and moral development. Rather it came from the outside: it was not the fruit of his thought but of his encounter with Jesus Christ. In this sense it was not simply a conversion, a development of his “ego”, but rather a death and a resurrection for Paul himself. One existence died and another, new one was born with the Risen Christ. There is no other way in which to explain this renewal of Paul. None of the psychological analyses can clarify or solve the problem. This event alone, this powerful encounter with Christ, is the key to understanding what had happened: death and resurrection, renewal on the part of the One who had shown himself and had spoken to him. In this deeper sense we can and we must speak of conversion. This encounter is a real renewal that changed all his parameters. Now he could say that what had been essential and fundamental for him earlier had become “refuse” for him; it was no longer “gain” but loss, because henceforth the only thing that counted for him was life in Christ.
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The event is included in The Loyola Kids Book of Bible Stories and The Loyola Kids’ Book of Heroes.
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Of all the verbiage produced concerning the Covington Catholic story – such a ridiculous, insane moment – one of the best was in the Atlantic by Caitlin Flanagan. It’s excellent.
The full video reveals that these kids had wandered into a Tom Wolfe novel and had no idea how to get out of it.
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For another perspective on the March for Life in general, I point you to this First Things piece by John Waters. I had linked to another piece by Waters about a month ago – one about Ireland. He’s Irish, and so he has a different perspective on the March. I don’t think I entirely agree with him, but it’s a point worth discussing, especially if you take groups to the March (which I don’t, but my Son #4 has gone the past two years, and I expect he’ll continue once he gets to college.)
But as the march edged its way toward Constitution Avenue, and the gaiety continued, I began to think that maybe this was not the best way to mark the gravity of this Holocaust of our time. I could see that the celebratory mood—celebratory of undoubted achievements of the American pro-life movement—was in a sense justified and essential to the continuing success of the event. But I also realized that the march has become more a celebration of pro-life energies than a commemoration of abortion victims. The unbroken atmosphere of joyousness begins to wear thin after a while.
I have a proposal to make that I believe could alter the tone and mood of the march—in a way that might arrest a media and public mindset that simply glazes over as the march goes by. It may be time the march was transformed into a more somber confrontation of America’s doublethink in the face of the abortion apocalypse.
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This article from New York magazine about a young man who went through very, very early onset of puberty is at times difficult to read, and no, I don’t think the kind of fertility treatments mentioned are ethical, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t be inspired and encouraged by this story. Encouraged to see evidence that the truth about life and suffering, and accepting both still courses through our culture and in consciences – read to the end to see what I mean. It’s ultimately a story about being dealt a hand by nature and family (it’s a hereditary condition – the author’s father, grandfather and great-grandfather suffered from it), acknowledging it, understanding it as much as you’re able, accepting it – but not allowing it – whatever it is – to determine, dominate or control you.
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I’ve created a Lent page here.
The page of the articles I’ve published on Medium here.
For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain’t the Lyceum!
Charlotte was Both 