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Resurrecting Chicago

Trusting in Him with each step.

Original Sin: It’s more than a Forbidden Bite.

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Original Sin is a concept we Catholics have inherited from St. Augustine.  In his book,“Confessions,” he explains why you and I are such a mess.
Adam and Eve, detail of  tomb  (Gerald Watt)

 Read the “Confessions of St. Augustine” and you will begin to understand why we have to suffer simply because two young people picked and shared forbidden fruit.  Why are we “attracted to evil” as one of the founders of my Congregation put the problem? Who would want to do bad? Who would choose to be evil?

Before you dismiss the idea that you might be attracted to evil, think of this: Doing evil can be fun (So I’m told).  Getting away with it can be more fun.
What does it feel like to steal an apple?  Well, you have to steal an apple to find out.
To toy with the possibility of sinning can be thrilling, heart-pounding, energizing.  To finally decide to do an evil thing is to experience a surging wave of pride.  Then, to actually do the evil act can be like the rush a diver feels as he jumps off of the high  diving board. (“I could break my neck, but …what the heck!”)
Sin is even better when a punishing angel chases you and is unable to catch and chastise you. The thrill of escape is captured by the poet who in the “Hound of Heaven” says “I fled Him down the nights and down the days… and under running laughter….” (Francis Thompson)
When you think about doing something evil that promises you some pleasure, your heart warms to the idea like a child who contemplates the forbidden coconut macaroons in the cookie jar in the kitchen. Such is the way of Original Sin.
We don’t choose to do evil because something is evil but because we are attracted to it as good. That’s how twisted our motivations become.  It’s only after the deed that we experience how sour sin can be.
As the Christian learns to ward off sin and depend on grace, he/she embraces more deeply the life of a follower of Jesus Christ. 
The sweet act of forgiveness which we experience in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, brings with it the sanctifying grace which begins to heal our troubled hearts. That grace is the same grace that was poured over us at our Baptism setting us free from the domination of Original Sin.
“…where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more….” (Romans 5:20)

 

Gentrification of the White-Tailed deer.

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Birds did not show up this morning as I walked along a dirt path but unexpected wildlife did.

Four yearling deer stood still not ten feet from me in the first light of an October morning. With their light grey, furry, pointed ears, huge dark eyes and black noses, they appeared out of a cool mist and startled me.  I had turned a corner on the rustic path that I walk most days — and there they were.

 The deer were browsing some of the last green leaves of Summer and were mildly interested in me standing there so close by.  They made no attempt to move away: they just stood there munching, looking at me. So, I excused myself…I really did –out loud! I felt like I had interrupted their breakfast.

I continued down the path thinking about the abundance of deer so present these days even in our cities and suburbs.  These deer are gentrified, completely at peace with the walkers and talkers who move through their environment. They are not domesticated, just habituated to the humans who must seem so curious to them.

There are far more deer in America than when the pilgrims arrived. As the forests of the East and Midwest were leveled and agriculture took over as much of the land as was possible, more brush and what environmentalists call “edge” appeared. One example of edge is the strip of vegetation that farmers leave along creeks and rivers that pass through their land.  That’s where many species of birds find food and cover. It’s where deer live, too. They don’t live in the forest.

Years ago, the world’s expert on moose, deer and elk was Margaret Altmann, a researcher whose home bordered the Bridger Wilderness Reserve near Yellowstone.  I went with her once on horseback through forests and brush while she observed white-tailed deer through a monocular.  Her riding horses were unshod and stealthily made their way without disturbing the natural behavior of wildlife.

I wonder what she would say about our citified deer. I know one thing: She would be curious to know how civilized deer differ in behavior from wilderness deer. Margaret Altman has been gone for many years now but I think, were she alive, that she would be amazed how these deer accept us within their territories.

 

The Song Sparrow Observer.

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My introduction to the behavior of birds happened when I read Margaret Morse Nice’s “Studies in the Life History of the Song Sparrow (1937, originally a U.S. government publication and later reissued in a Dover edition in two sturdy softcover volumes.) I was fascinated, hooked.

Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia. (Wicki photo,Ken)

Here was a woman, trained as a scientist who produced  a  remarkable account of the life history of the Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia, simply by making detailed notes on her observations of this common species which she studied in her backyard and surrounding neighborhood for many years. No lab needed or wanted.

When I was at St. Louis University in a research master’s program, our lab did extensive studies on the Song Sparrow. At that time, the National Science Foundation helped support research into the inheritance of species-specific song. So, we isolated birds in sound proof enclosures and recorded their vocalizations.

However, I was allowed to study Song Sparrows in their habitats, too. I trudged through meadows and savannahs in and around St. Louis, Missouri making notes on my observations of this species and tape recording their calls and songs. I got so that I could easily identify Song Sparrows by their calls alone as well as by their song.  Later, I did some field work at the University of Wyoming Research Center in Grand Teton National Park where Song Sparrows share habitat with Lincoln’s Sparrows and Fox Sparrows.

By observation I learned that Lincoln’s Sparrow is smaller than the Song Sparrow and with no dark spot on the breast. The Fox Sparrow has a dark spot on its breast but is larger than the song sparrow and chunkier.

Lincoln’s Sparrow and the Fox Sparrow had their own species-specific flight patterns and, of course, the songs were different than the Song Sparrow.

I wish I could have had the opportunity to thank Ms. Nice for her wonderful book on Song Sparrows. If I had not read her book, I might never have learned how important detailed observations are to an animal behavior project.. I might have thought that not being able to control the environment would lead me to unscientific results.

My experience was just the opposite. I was able to observe Song Sparrows in natural situations.  To see males hop higher and higher until they reach a perch from which they would sing is something I could have never seen in a lab.  Bobbing movements as they flew from one tree to another; “sneaking behavior” as the female indirectly returned to a nest which was well-hidden in a bush; males singing against one another to establish territory, these are behaviors I would never would have seen in a controlled laboratory environment.

I made notes carefully in day journals which became the basis of a small  scientific contribution to the study of this species. Thanks, Ms. Nice.

Sources: Nice, M. M..  “Studies on the Life History of the Song Sparrow,”  Dover reprint, 1964.  Out of print but available used from Amazon.com.

Cornell University’s  website is very helpful in differentiating Fox, Lincoln’s and the Song Sparrow.http://www.birds.cornell.edu/brp

Pope Francis Gives a Surprising Interview.

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When Pope Francis was asked recently to answer the question, Who is Jorge Bergoglio?, he answered: “A sinner upon whom the Lord has turned his gaze.”

Pope Francis gave this response in an interview in September, 2013. The interviewer was Antonio Spadaro, S.J. and Pope Francis remarks were published in “La Civitta Cattolica.”

OMG! What modern pope has ever defined himself as, first of all, a sinner? What happens to our conception of the pope as the pre-eminent, holy, follower of Christ? A pope in our day is considered an icon of holiness.  All you have to do is think of John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul II and Benedict XVI.

 Pope Francis wants to shatter the image we might have of him as reigning above us all in holiness. Pope Francis calls to mind the painting by Caravaggio of the “The calling of Matthew.” The masterpiece hangs in the Church of St. Louis of France, in Rome. I saw it when I was in Rome two years ago.

In the painting, Matthew is in what appears to be a pub.  Along with him are several of his henchmen and they are counting the days take.

One young man fingers the day’s haul and contemplates it. Jesus, barefoot, enters the pub with Peter.  Jesus points to Matthew and says “Come follow me” as he points at him. Matthew points to himself as if to say, “Are you sure you want me?”

Matthew, a despised Jew who worked for Rome against his own people, is called by Jesus to fulfill a destiny which Matthew had as a member of the covenant people.  Matthew was a ritually unclean Jew who gouged the poor and extorted from the rich. But, when called, he got up and followed Jesus as a member of the new covenant people.

Pope Francis feels he has been chosen through no merit of his own to be an apostle like Matthew.. Pope Francis does not set himself above us but situates himself with the rest of us sinners.

There is a quiet revolution going on in the Catholic Church.  In this fiftieth anniversary year of the opening of the Second Vatican Council, Our Lord has given us as chief shepherd, a sinner in need of the healing call of God’s mercy, just like you and me.

Pope Francis is confident of that mercy and he knows that he is graced with the light of God.  He wants us all to see the light.
 

John XXIII, the Saint Who Opened the Windows.

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Pope John XXIII will be canonized in a ceremony to be held at St. Peter’s basilica in Rome during April, 2014.

Bronze statue of John XXIII, Italia (G,.Watt)

I am old enough to remember when Pope Pius XII died and Angelo Roncalli  was elected Pope.  He took the name John XXIII. Someone remarked to me on seeing him for the first time: “He looks like a butcher!”  Unlike the formal demeanor of Pius XII who seemed to have been carved out of a narrow block of granite, the new holy father was chubby, had an easy smile and was spontaneous.

When John XXIII announced that he was convening a Vatican Council, most of the bishops of the world were stunned. But, Angelo Roncalli was a seasoned Church diplomat.  He had been posted as the Vatican’s nuncio to Bulgaria and then to a similar position in Paris as nuncio to France. He knew what he was doing.

John XXIII said that he wanted to open the windows and doors of the Church to the modern world. It was a leap forward by the Church that few thought possible.

I remember just a few years before John XXIII’s election,  a “monitum” had been issued by the Vatican concerning vernacular liturgies.”Monitum” means warning and we (I was a seminarian at the time) were warned not to even discuss employing vernacular in the Church’s liturgy. Every Latin word in all the rituals was considered sacrosanct. But the Holy Father knew that language is the essence of evangelization. That is why the document on the liturgy was the first to come out of Vatican II and it stressed the use of the vernacular in all church rituals.

 I was present at the first Mass celebrated in English in the U.S.  Msgr. Martin Hellriegel was the main celebrant and the occasion was the opening of the National Liturgical Conference in St. Louis.  That day American Catholics caught a breath of fresh air which came through the open windows of the Church of John XXIII.

But it’s not solely because John XXIII called the Second Vatican Council that the Church is celebrating his life at this time. Angelo Roncalli was a warm, pastoral presence. He genuinely lived the Gospel of Jesus Christ, heroically.

A few years ago, I was standing near the tomb of John XXIII.  Just in front of the tomb was a man and a boy of maybe 10 years old who I presumed was his son. They stood alone but I heard the man say to the boy as he gestured toward the tomb: “Il Buono Papa,” the good pope.

 

http://www.resurrectioninchicago.com/151/

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Now, there is nothing wrong with using binoculars to identify birds and to peek-in on their behavior. I could hardly do without my trusty binoculars.  Yet, I find that I don’t need them as much as I once did. Non-birders don’t always need them, either.

I can view the activities of a flock of sparrows, like I did this morning, without magnifying an individual bird. In fact, I literally can’t see what the flock is doing if I’m trying, often unsuccessfully, to focus in on one bird. It’s like the reverse of old saw: “He can’t see the forest for the trees.” Sometime I want to view the activities of an entire flock of birds, the entire forest of them.

White-throated sparrows and house sparrows were flocked up this morning as I walked a path through a huge field of tall grasses on a brilliant sun-shiny day. The birds were fluttering here and there along the path pecking at the seed which was deposited along the path by the wind. I think the birds cannot feed within the thick tall grass of this remnant of Illinois prairie which spreads out on both sides of the path.

As I approached, the flock took refuge close-by in scrub brush growing here and there along the path but when they saw I was no danger to them, they returned to the path to feed. They can still find cover since autumn is just beginning and the trees and brush are still lush and verdant.

I didn’t need my binoculars at all. I simply took in the entire scene of passerines feasting on seeds here in early autumn. This kind of flock behavior has developed over eons. The birds don’t fight within their species and they don’t compete across species lines. They have learned to cooperate.

 Maybe, we humans could learn something from inter-species flocking. We could at least learn to tolerate one another’s presence.

Sing a New Song to the Lord."

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It struck me again today: How many times does the psalmist ask us to “Sing a new song to the Lord?” (Ps 33:3) Does the lord get weary of hearing us singing the same psalms over and over again? Do our old songs weary Him?

Every once in a while I dust off one of the old anthems simply because the melody is so familiar and the words are filled with hope. “Holy God, We Praise Thy Name;” “Amazing Grace;” Even “Precious Lord, Take My hand” come to mind. I hear the fifty or so us morning Mass people belting out phrases like “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind but now I see.”  When the community sings the old, familiar tunes, my head and heart clear so that I can pray.

However,  there are times when our old songs, like lullabies, can seduce us into a state that focuses on our own comfort.

The psalmist tells us to sing new songs.  I take that to mean we should sing new songs with fresh words and stirring melodies.  The parish community needs to wake up to an occasional new  morning song.  Our hymnals contain more material than we could ever use. Some of it, not too good; but other hymns are there like coins we’ve never spent. What are we hoarding them for? Let’s sing them!

I snuck in “Precious Lord” (above) when you weren’t looking. It’s a powerful gospel hymn by Dr. Dorsey.  That song has its place when we need to sing of facing up to our own destinies. “Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling”(again by Dorsey) is also in our parish hymnal.  We never sing it. Is it too embarrassing to sing of an intimacy with Jesus that has Him calling  our souls to heaven?”

“Sing a new song” means, also, that our composers need to keep working at producing contemporary
music with lyrics that are memorable and singable.  We need newly created songs for communion meditation, for example.

However, when I come across the verse in Psalm 33  asking me to sing a new song to the Lord, I sometimes pray as I lift my head from my breviary, “Lord, you know I can sing. Teach me a new song. Instruct me in the melody and teach me the words.”

 

Pope Francis: A Breath of Fresh Air for the Church.

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Ever since Pope Francis gave an interview recently to a journalist for a Jesuit magazine, the secular newsprint has spewed out hundreds of comments, most of them rejoicing that the Catholic Church now has a leader who will bring the Church into line with the social movements of the day.  It’s time the Church changed some of its teachings. 

The questions are predictable and so is their reasoning:

Holy Father…

–Why shouldn’t women be priests?

–Abortion is a fact of contemporary life. The Church needs to recognize that at times abortion is a correct, morally good choice. Don’t you agree, Holy Father?

— Birth control can be achieved these days through preventive medications or the morning after pill. Catholics should regulate their conceptions just as they do with other important components of their lives. Surely you can see the need for the Church to get with the times?

— Homosexuality is not a mental illness. Why not simply recognize homosexual practices as an alternate life style?
Holy Father, these days homosexuality is not an issue. Nobody cares. It’s time the Church stopped condemning gays.

–All religions whether Christian or not are pretty much the same when it comes to core teachings, i.e., Love one another;
Teach others to love; Don’t sin: Life will continue in some way after death, etc. Why can’t the Catholic Church admit this and strive for unity of all religions?

Pope Francis has not ducked any of these important questions, nor has he suggested changes in Church teaching.  What he has insisted upon is a change in attitude for the entire Church, especially bishops and priests. Pope Francis wants his Church to go out and seek those who do not measure up to our high principles. He wants us to take people where they are at and love them, not judge them.

That is an entirely different matter than changing the moral stance of the Church in regard to these issues.

Pope Francis recently spoke to the clergy of Rome and told them to get out of their sacristies and go find the sheep who
live on the periphery of the Church. He reminds us to show them that the Church loves them where they are at in their spiritual and moral lives.

Several times recently, Pope Francis has reminded us that we priests may get dirty working on the fringes of society. It’s O.K. for shepherds to smell a bit like the sheep, if we are to be authentic shepherds.

Stay tuned for further developments from this remarkable, smiling Pope.

The Case of the Disappearing Canaries.

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The canaries were gone. Three males had simply disappeared from three separate cages.  Those canaries were “the control” part of an experiment in animal behavior at a major mid-western University some time ago. 

On a cool Saturday morning, I entered the laboratory where our department was studying how birds learn species-specific sound.  For example, is the song of the song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) innate or is it a learned behavior? Does the male song sparrow chick have to hear its species song before it can sing it, or will he sing a song sparrow song without ever hearing it sung by a mature male first? Researchers want to know these things.

Back to the canary controls.  Those  individual males were part of a research project of one of our graduate students who was studying bird song in canaries. The controls were kept in typical wire cages in the basement of our building. They heard one another sing. We controlled the light by timers and the canaries dutifully sang when it was light.

 The “experimentals” were male canaries housed two floors above the basement in  sound-proof cages with built in speakers where we could record their vocal efforts.

That Saturday morning, when the graduate student came to check on them, the controls were gone.  The experimentals, however, in their sound proof boxes complete with ventilation systems, were fine –healthy and active. 


  How could the controls have escaped? The door leading down into the basement lab was always locked and the graduate student and his mentor were the only ones who had keys. “They’ve got to be down there,” he said. “Help me find them.”

So, we went downstairs into the basement lab and, sure enough, the cages were empty and the small, metal access doors to those cages were still fastened shut.

We began searching behind everything in the basement. No birds.   Next, we checked the rafters. The concrete wall of the basement stopped just below the first floor where joists took over.  We got a ladder and began searching the dark spaces between the joists.

“Hey! I think I found one,” my friend yelled. “Up here, in the rafters!’   With that he shone a flashlight into the space and found himself face to snout with a boa constrictor.

The mystery of the disappearance of the birds coincided with the disappearance of a six-foot long pet Boa constrictor from a third floor lab which had gone missing two weeks before. Someone had left the terrarium open and the snake had slipped out, squeezed through the space around a recently repaired water pipe, got into the wall and followed the pipes to the basement.

Once in the basement, the snake sensed the canaries. He entered each cage by compressing himself between the wires of the cage, attacking the birds one-by-one, and then after constricting the life out of them, he consumed them.  He then sought a hiding place in the rafters to rest and to digest the birds.

The ex  The experiment was certainly compromised because the controls were critical to the validity of the experiment. Somehow, the graduate student saved the project, but he had to have evidence that his controls had actually existed. You can probably figure out what he had to do next. Nearly two weeks later, the boa deposited several tiny bundles of sad-looking, yellow feathers onto the floor of his terrarium.

There are no snakes indigenous to the Canary Islands or the Azores, the natural home of canaries.  Did our controls flutter and flee from the constrictor?  Did they know innately that this crawling thing entering their territory was deadly? My guess is that they knew. No parent had to teach them that an enmity was set between their offspring and the spawn of the snake.

By the way, our research concluded that canaries sing whether they’ve heard other males sing or not. However. It helps in their development if they have heard other males sing. Eventually, they get it right.

 

 

 

A Murder of Crows Woke Me up Today.

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I am walking quietly in late autumn along a dirt path which meanders through a savannah. The field of goldenrod on my right waves deep yellow with every breeze. The trees and bushes are still green and lush.  Every few paces I flush a sparrow or two out of the bushes which grow along the way. It’s a blue-sky day and the sun’s rays fall on me like a blessing. It’s quiet.

Then, they come: the crows. Their “kaw-kaw-kaws” announce to the wildlife world that I am there –at least it seems that way to me. A half-dozen crows fly high above me “kaw-kaw-ing”  like motorcycles coughing and sputtering as they glide slowly along. Crow calls are loud, irritating to my ears and to my soul.

Genus Corvus seem like the rogues of the bird world. They disturb the harmony of field and forest.  They ravage seed crops. They have been known to steal, and not only shiny things. A bunch of crows is referred to by the collective noun, “murder.”  A “murder of crows:”an apt concept, isn’t it?

From jackdaws to common crows to ravens, these scavengers make up a third of the members of the family Corvidae. To most people, they are simply crows and not welcome.

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” uses the image of this dark bird to express the melancholy Poe feels at the loss of “Lenore, nameless here forever more.” The poem would never have worked with a song sparrow or downy woodpecker. The bold, insistent rapping announces the raven’s presence.  Once let in, the raven brings a mocking gloom to Poe’s soul. The thing speaks and vocalizes finality with its”nevermore” refrain.

Crows of any type flying over my head bring on a feeling of dread, like an omen of bad luck
So, my reverie this morning hasn’t lasted long, a  murder of crows has startled me into another reality.

 

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