Two Views of Blandford

These are two photos I took yesterday in the woods of the Blandford Nature Center, which is right behind my house. The area is a nice natural respite from the urban and suburban landscapes of Grand Rapids. It's very lovely in the evening.

Graduation Day

"This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!"

The melodious sound of those immortal words from Psalm 118 reverberated elegantly through the Basilica of St Adalbert earlier this afternoon. The occasion was the Baccalaureate mass of the West Catholic High School class of 2012. We suspect that most in attendance were rejoicing and glad for any number of reasons. Ostensibly, we in attendance rejoiced for the graduates and their accomplishment of four years of secondary education well done. The students, on the other hand, were perhaps quietly rejoicing in not having to don another uniform, serve another detention, or attend another likely meaningless forum.

In any event, it is good for the community to gather and celebrate these students (my sister among them), and pray for their continuing bearing of good fruit in their post-high school lives. The setting for such celebrations and prayers, St Adalbert's, is particularly apt for the grandeur and gravity of the event. Carved angels and colorful saints adorning the cavernous interior, frozen in eternal celestial praise, added their mute support to those gathered below. Perhaps they were joined by a quiet echo of the generations of Polish Catholics who have gathered under those graceful copper domes, and whose spiritual zeal lead to the birth of West Catholic in the first place. There is a fitting symbolic crescendo of the worldwide Church, local spirit, and academic legacy in such a storied place.

His Excellency, the Most Reverend Walter Hurley, Bishop of Grand Rapids, was the chief celebrant of the Holy Mass. Though in the twilight of his time at the helm of this diocese, reaching the mandatory retirement age of seventy-five at the end of this month, the Bishop is still an able man with a quiet sort of wisdom that shone through during his remarks to the graduates during his homily. It is hard not to be inundated with banal cliches on such a momentous occasion, but the Bishop kept his gaze firmly fixed on Christ and extolled the graduates to do the same - wise words in these times of material uncertainty, tragedy, and fear.

At that singular juncture, I couldn't help but allow my thoughts to wander into that dangerous region of the mind that remembers how much I've grown since I heard similar words from the same Bishop three short years ago. At the time, I was decidedly lukewarm about the whole faith business. My, how times change. I have to imagine there were many students in attendance who are at the same point in their lives, and may yet turn toward God in new and unexpected ways. High school students have a peculiar habit of knowing everything, but the real exhilaration comes when you realize you hardly know what you know, and have no idea what you don't know. That's when God goes to work.

From the sacred realm and those cross-adorned pinnacles, the ceremonies transitioned into the more secular business of commencement within the gymnasium. I love the formality of the graduation ceremonies - pomp and circumstance indeed. It all raises the mind to the seriousness of the event and the responsibilities that come with the eventual transition into adulthood. In due course, speeches were spoken, diplomas were conferred, and all of the usual suspects said all of the usual things - with great clarity and grace. It was all very dignified and nice. It is one of the benefits of a small school with a small graduating class that allows a more decorous pace of things than at one of those huge student-factories where one is forced to labor through four hundred or so names, leaving hardly a moment for a more intimate discussion of the day.

Pictures were taken in copious number, rivaled only by the number of congratulations bestowed upon the graduates. Kayla was soon whisked off to the Senior All Night Party - an old West Catholic tradition, a sort of last-hurrah if you will. We were left to our own devices and soon made our way to the Walker Roadhouse, one of the most prominent West Side establishments, for some appetizers. Also in attendance at the restaurant was nearly all of what I shall call West Catholic society. In other words, a lot of people we know were there (including the Bishop and another priest of the diocese). I love having a place like the Roadhouse in town. It's the sort of place that I can see myself becoming a regular at (if I haven't already).

Thus ended Graduation Day. We here send all of our best wishes to the Class of 2012, that as they step out to a world roiled with change, they might take with them their knowledge and their virtues and change the world. A special congratulations to my sister, of whom I am so very proud.

On the Unique Bigness of the Church

I'm working my way through G.K. Chesterton's masterwork The Everlasting Man, in which he describes a general outline of the spiritual history of mankind and how the person of Jesus Christ transformed that history. It is a fantastic work, chock full of Chesterton's political-correctness shattering wit and wisdom. He says something very insightful about the Church and its uniqueness as an institution:

"The Church contains what the world does not contain. Life itself does not provide as she does for all sides of life. That every other single system is narrow and insufficient compares to this one; that is not a rhetorical boast; it is a real fact and a real dilemma. Where is the Holy Child amid the Stoics and the ancestor-worshipers? Where is Our Lady of the Muslims, a woman made for no man and set above all angels? Where is St. Michael of the monks of Buddha, rider and master of the trumpets, guarding for every soldier the honour of the sword? What could St. Thomas Aquinas do with the mythology of Brahminism, he who set forth all the science and rationality and even rationalism of Christianity? Yet even if we compare Aquinas with Aristotle, at the other extreme of reason, we shall find the same sense of something added. Aquinas could understand the most logical parts of Aristotle; it is doubtful if Aristotle could have understood the most mystical parts of Aquinas. Even where we can hardly call the Christian greater, we are forced to call him larger." - G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, Part II Ch. 2 The God in the Cave

This elegant description of the all-encompassing nature of the Church has echoes in the words of the early Christian theologian, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who says something similar in his exposition on the phrase "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church" from the Creed.

"It (the Church) is called Catholic then because it extends over all the world, from one end of the earth to the other; and because it teaches universally and completely one and all the doctrines which ought to come to men's knowledge, concerning things both visible and invisible, heavenly and earthly ; and because it brings into subjection to godliness the whole race of mankind, governors and governed, learned and unlearned; and because it universally treats and heals the whole class of sins, which are committed by soul or body, and possesses in itself every form of virtue which is named, both in deeds and words, and in every kind of spiritual gifts." - St. Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lectures, Lecture 18 Part 23

The universal mission of the Church is an ever-fruitful source for meditation.

Proposed Chapel Redesign

Regular readers of this blog (if you are, I'm terribly sorry) will no doubt be familiar with my penchant for coming up with conceptual or theoretical designs, sometimes for renovations of places that already exist. Such is the case with this post. My high school has a chapel for perpetual adoration, where the Sacred Host is exposed on the altar throughout the school year, so that students are able to avail themselves of prayerful time spent before Our Lord. Members of the community are also welcome to come pray throughout the school day.

Currently (I was there today filling in for my mom during her usual prayer hour), the chapel is in a rather sorry state. I do not have a photograph, but picture if you will a standard-height room with concrete block walls, three narrow blueish-green stained glass windows, an altar that looks like it belongs on a spaceship, and pious clutter of every possible description. In short, it's a bit of a holy mess, making it an uninspiring place to spend time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament.

Thus, since I had nothing better to do this afternoon, I spent a bit of time imagining what such a chapel could look like if it were shown a bit of tender loving care and a few spare bucks. The results of my imaginative scribblings are shown below:

 

The first, most profound, change is the height of the space. Since this chapel is located near the front of the one-story school, raising its exterior profile speaks to the priorities of Catholic education to the wider public, while the added interior volume results in a room more able to inspire thoughts of heavenly things. Structurally, this addition could be accomplished rather easily by simply continuing the concrete block walls an additional story.

The rest of the changes amount to some liturgical reorganization, clarification, and beautification. The altar remains the focus of the chapel, though it has been replaced by a more noble and beautiful model of (preferably) red stone. A small tabernacle and space for candlesticks are provided on the small ledge immediately above and behind the altar. The reredos, or altarpiece, is imagined as a mosaic illustration of the Divine Mercy encased within a gilded, red-stained, wood frame. The words Jezu Ufam Tobie crown the composition. These words were revealed to St. Faustina along with the image of the Divine Mercy and are translated as Jesus, I Trust in You.  

The iconographic program of the Divine Mercy was chosen, in part, because of its connections with Poland. The west side of Grand Rapids is known for its Polish heritage, and many students of my high school are of Polish descent. Of course, the image and message of the Divine Mercy are things which are very pressing for our times and would be of great spiritual reassurance to those who frequent the chapel. Another, more subtle, nod to Grand Rapids' Polish Catholic heritage is the colored bands of stone composing the pilasters on both sides of the altar. A similar coloration pattern can be found on the columns of the Basilica of St Adalbert - one of Grand Rapids' finest churches, a monument to Polish immigrant faith, and the location of my high school's baccalaureate mass each May.

In doing this little exercise, it was tempting to treat the space as larger and grander than it is or needs to be. Small spaces and projects are always a little trickier because they force the designer to be succinct about the visual points he or she is making. I stuck with one iconographic program, a warm color scheme, a limited palette of materials, and a rather straightforward composition in order to make this little chapel someplace dignified and beautiful without being cluttered.

I'd be pleased to hear what you think.

The Churches of Australia

Australia is not often thought of first in the field of great church architecture, with deference usually being paid to the great built heritage of Europe, but this does not mean that Australia's Christian patrimony should not go unnoticed. Throughout my travels on that continent down under, I discovered many gems in the field of sacred architecture. The Australian Gold Rush and Australia's coming of age as a mature colonial force coincided with the Gothic Revival movement (so eloquently and forcefully espoused by Britain's A.W.N. Pugin). This penchant for Gothicism was exported from Britain to Australia and drove the sensibilities of church architecture for many years. Enjoy these photos of mine from around Australia:

St. Mary's, Casino, New South Wales (Catholic)

Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, Tenterfield, New South Wales (Catholic)

Cathedral of Our Lady Help of Christians, Sydney, New South Wales (Catholic)

Cathedral of St. Patrick, Melbourne, Victoria (Catholic)

Cathedral of St. Paul, Melbourne, Victoria (Anglican)

Cathedral of St. David, Hobart, Tasmania (Anglican)

A Rare American Prophet

We are rather too neglectful of the American Presidency in this little corner of the web. We must confess this is at least partially due to our intense dislike for the last several occupants of the Oval Office, right on up to our current tyrant. Regardless of that trivia, previous Commanders-in-Chief were often also quite splendid orators who said what they meant and said it in style, as opposed to the current politically-correct espousal of topseyturveydom that belches forth from Washington. We are so accustomed to this deluge of nonsense that we regard it as normal and sometimes pay it lip-service praise. I even heard someone say that Obama's most recent State of the Union was great oratory! Yes, and Call Me Maybe is a great musical achievement.

I digress. In any event, I ask you, kind reader, to imagine any current American politician having the gall to speak the words below, spoken by Calvin Coolidge in Philadelphia on the occasion of the 150th Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence:

"The things of the spirit come first. Unless we cling to that, all our material prosperity, overwhelming though it may appear, will turn to a barren scepter in our grasp. If we are to maintain the great heritage which has been bequeathed to us, we must be like-minded as the fathers who created it. We must not sink into a pagan materialism. We must cultivate the reverence which they had for the things that are holy. We must follow the spiritual and moral leadership which they showed. We must keep replenished, that they may glow with a more compelling flame, the altar fires before which they worshiped."

Wait, it's not all about money?! We're NOT to become pagan materialists?! Cultivate reverence... for HOLY things!? Spiritual and moral leadership? Our leaders can't be moral and spiritual leaders, there's a separation between church and state, remember?

To those who still claim that our society is on some constant noble march of blissful progress, I rest my case.

One of my favorite pictures from Sydney: the majestic Harbor Bridge at sunset.

Born Again This Way

One of the more interesting ironies of modern pop culture that I've noticed recently is a very interesting juxtaposition between a sense of deterministic fatalism on one hand and a desire to invent your own meaning in life on the other hand. The first may be boiled down to Lady Gaga's annoyingly pedantic hymn to herself Born this Way. It says something along the lines of: "I was born to do this, this, and this, and I am thus forbidden not do these things." The second might be summarized more neatly by one of those sentimental pictures one sees so often on Facebook. You know the ones - a faded, faux-vintage picture of a beach with superimposed white script imploring the viewer to shake off his or her former personal shackles and live life in exactly the manner he or she sees fit. Another example may be the recent explosion of the phrase "You only live once", cutely shortened to the ubiquitous YOLO (or, more usually, #yolo).

These twin heresies are often espoused by the same people, though not often at the same times, for if they were spoken one after another, we would all be able to readily see that the Emperor is wearing few, if any, clothes. I call them heresies not out of any special contempt, but for the simple reason of that is what they are. Heresy as defined by St Thomas Aquinas is "...a species of infidelity in men who, having professed the faith of Christ, corrupt its dogmas". Notice here that our good St Thomas says "corrupt" rather than jettison the dogmas. Heresy is most usually an unhealthy exaggeration of one truth, which causes corruption in terms of other truths. For instance, the Pelagians over-emphasized the free will of man, and, in the process, denied the need for God's grace. The Arians exaggerated Christ's humanity and swept away his divinity in the process, while the Gnostics did the opposite.

Though my subject matter is not religious or even Christian per se, they are emphatically philosophical, and, like all philosophical matters, have immense bearing on our daily lives. Returning to the first error, which I shall name Gaga-ism: the concept of destiny or a set track for our lives is very convenient for the modern times in which we find ourselves. It excuses us from our actions. If we are meant to be a certain way, woe betide anyone who should call us to higher aspirations. It's a reverse sort of Calvinism dressed down in sparkly camouflage. Why attempt virtue when we are destined and born in vice? It's who we are. 

The second error, on the other hand, enigmatically often calls the modern man to do exactly what Gaga-ism says he can't do - change. It shouts up and down that life is all there is, make of it what you will, don't be burdened by your station in life, society's expectations, or anything else for that matter. Just be you! The implicit argument is that you can't possible truly be yourself while simultaneously adhering to societal norms, morals, or expectations. You can't be who you were born to be, you must utterly and completely disregard all that in the ever-important quest to be authentic, etc. You must live your life (whatever that means). You must seize every opportunity to experience life, even if it is immoral or wrong, because you invent what's right for you, and anything else is simply holding you back from your self-fulfilling quest.

As I mentioned before - this two-headed postmodern philosophical slop often sallies forth from the same people's mouths, though at different times. Some times they say "We can't possibly change because I am me" while other times they say "I must change because I am me." It's all a matter of convenience I suppose. The Christian truth, I'm afraid, is to be found in neither of these pop philosophies, and is frankly far more compelling. It says quite simply that you were born in sin, but called to holiness. It says "I love you as a child of God" and "Go and sin no more" simultaneously. It offers the free choice between good and evil. It fortifies the soul for the long labor of life, whose circumstances we can not often choose on some postmodern whim. It calls the soul to constant conversion toward the truth - not a one-and-done declaration or an obstinate refusal to declare. We can be born again as often as we find ourselves trapped in the way we were born.

I Have Returned

Hello out there! Ladies and Gentlemen, I have returned from the Southern Hemisphere and will be spewing thoughts hither and thither upon these pages soon enough. Stay tuned for thoughts a-plenty (and perhaps a bit of a redesign as well)!