Pandemics, Pain, and Perspectives

I admittedly have a lot of pent-up frustrations and concerns from the pain of the past couple of weeks. I'm bringing back this blog as my coping tool.

"I can't breathe" is a cry heard 'round the world. These national and international protests in the aftermath of George Floyd's murder have cast the eyes of the world on our nation. In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, this national movement for America's black communities has certainly made 2020 a turbulent year.

Living here in Chicago, it was almost inevitable that mass protests would be organized here. Not too long ago, Laquan Mcdonald was repeatedly shot to death by a police officer, and it caused citywide protests (including one I witnessed from afar at my own university). Again, protests from the Black Lives Matter movement have resurged in the Windy City, face-to-face with a police force that many of them seek to reform or abolish.

Reading up a bit on Chicago's history--I recommend A Political Education by Elizabeth Todd-Breland; it's an infuriating read that does leave some room for hope--I have become slightly more aware of the legacy of racial segregation in our own city. I've also been forced to check my own biases (even the inherent racial ones that I thought I managed to completely suppress), and learned to listen to other perspectives. Protesting isn't quite my lane, and I admittedly still profess some attachment to CPD officers (the ones that I know, at least), but the nationwide significance of the George Floyd protests has shaken a lot of my preconceived notions about American society.

But I'm not here to write on proposals to reform or abolish institutions. This here is an individual's thoughts, and these are not to be taken as an official endorsement of any side of this issue.

I'm exhausted from sharing resources and listening to people over DMs and phone calls. I'm human too, so I get fatigued and I need breaks. But my heart still aches for our nation, our city, and any remnants of humanity that are left amidst the brutality and the rioting. I want to keep being optimistic and friendly, even as I acknowledge the ugliness of this issue, but I fear my optimism will be shot down as toxic positivity.

I may not see the end of this issue. In fact, many of us may not see it end completely. But, what I think does matter is our faithfulness to nourish and sustain humanity for the next generation. We might not resolve all the issues, but at least we can make this world better for our children to manage and continue the work.

Do I have disagreements with friends? Of course I do. But I won't let such disagreements dehumanize the people I love; in the end, we grow and learn from each other, and we pass on the lessons. Does it hurt? Of course it does. But it guarantees a stronger platform for us and the next generations to thrive.

We are all carrying a heavy cross up the hill, but the cross is not the final reality. There is a moment of resurrection and renewal, and the cycle begins again. It does seem repetitive, but I think this cycle continuously allows us to maintain a mature outlook on the harshness of the world. This dynamic of positive and negative, I believe, is what gives us the opportunity to express the selfless aspects of humanity.

I might write more on this, but I'll conclude my thoughts here. Thanks for stopping by.

Confessions of a Former Culture Warrior

Dusting off the cover of this rusty old blog, I feel like I have to get this out of my system.

In some of the recent altercations I've witnessed on social media, I have seen a significant increase of vitriolic exchanges between opposing political camps. There is a general environment of mistrust and close-mindedness that had led to an endless cycle of buzzwords and name-calling which leads conversations off the cliff.

Witnessing this in several circles, I can't help but slam my fists on my desk as I read through the clashes of discourse in the comments sections. No one seems to listen to anyone but their own kind. Stereotypes and political profiling are rampant and memed throughout the feeds. I don't know why anyone would settle within their own discourse and think that their own arguments are ends in themselves.

I, too, participated in a culture war against the "evil" liberal Other. I was brought up to believe that the liberal agenda was directly receiving orders from Satan himself and their discourse was not worth listening to. The stereotypical liberal for me was the anarchist, anti-theist, gay agenda "pusher" who would stop at nothing to destroy all that we live for. It became hard for me to be a listener, and I burned a lot of bridges and friendships for the sake of the crusade. Then college came, and I found myself surrounded by a menagerie of humanity. Different religions, ideologies, backgrounds, etc. My crusader upbringing kicked in, and the whole campus felt like I was in the midst of the enemy.

In listening to the different views and perspectives, however, I realized that I forgot to be human in my Christian upbringing. Sure, Jesus flipped tables and used insulting analogies to humble the religious leaders, but how does that ever give me license to belittle "lawbreakers" and "low-lifes"? Sounds like I've turned myself into a Pharisee. Did not Christ say He came to call sinners, and that those who are not sick do not need a doctor? How have I been treating those from harsh backgrounds and origins? They are afflicted, but they are human beings, products of the Creator with a dignity equal to my own.

I've thrown away the life of the culture warrior. I've learned to actually listen to know my "enemy" better. Wasn't Mother Church built on genuine human relationships, and were not those relationships built on genuine conversation? Did not the Apostles bring the Church into being at Pentecost when they preached to pilgrims in various languages? What happened to that?

Then again, I'm done ranting. It's just a rabble at this point, and no one is going to listen to this. Just another voice in the crowd with no sense of direction.

The Real Next Steps

Sitting alone in my house, I decide to let myself rest for the remainder of my day after having completed some needed chores over the weekend. I gave my old iPod a charge and listened to some good old worship music which I hadn't heard in months.

Though I do have a preference for traditional Sunday Masses and Divine Liturgies, I like a good Hillsong United, United Pursuit, Matt Maher, etc., on my playlist. When I'm not in the church, I like to reflect and meditated on the go by playing Christian music on my playlist. There's something about this music that soothes my soul and reassures my heart.

One of the songs I listened to was Matt Maher's "A Future Not My Own". It's a fairly recent release from this Catholic artist, and the album overall (Saints and Sinners) is great.

Throughout my life, I've always felt some degree of incompleteness. Even though I manage to resolve one issue, a few more show up, causing more self-questioning and sometimes even frustration. I always felt like I was running in circles whenever I thought about the next step I had to take in life, thinking that I wasn't really making any positive progress. But, after having listened to this a couple of times, I see that how I saw this situation was not quite how God was seeing me. Looking back, wherever I found initial frustration, I realized that was God redirecting me according to His plans, not mine.

There's a saying I've seen circulate in a few homilies and Instagram posts that goes, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." In previous years, I thought I had everything figured out for myself until I found a turning point that changed my outlook on how I conducted myself in life and faith. I didn't know from the start that I was going to be part of CFC-YFL, much less SFL. I didn't know from the start that I was going to join the Army. I didn't know from the start that I wanted to pursue a teaching degree.

Overall, whatever outlook and plan I started off with, it's not what I'm thinking of today. It might change or not change tomorrow, but I'm starting to put a little more trust in God's plan for me (an issue I still need working on). I know He's busy shaping me and directing me to where He knows I can better myself in how I practice my life and my faith.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." --Jeremiah 29:11

Falling Roses

I woke up this morning and checked my news feed. First item I see is a post about a mass shooting at a Jason Aldean concert at Las Vegas. At work, I watch news coverage about this tragedy; it pained my heart seeing the footage of gunfire erupting onto the crowds. With more than fifty dead and hundreds more wounded, today has shaken me to the core.

I mourn those lost, and I extend my sympathy and prayers to their loved ones. To save a portion of your life to be with those you love only to witness them being taken away is senseless and outrageous. It is absolutely unfair for that joy to be taken away.

As I sit in my room writing in silence, I reflect on the movement of the souls present on that day. Joyful souls celebrating with those they loved. A disturbed soul moved to inflict death and sorrow. The joyful souls turning to fear and anxiety when the pain is wrought. And brave souls pouring in to protect the helpless.

In the midst of sorrow and rage in the aftermath of the attack, I stress that we do not forget the love pouring in that night. I want to extend thanks to the first responders who came in to provide safety and security for the victims; these are people to look to as inspiration. In spite of the darkness covering that event, there were people who came to serve as beacons of love showering hope upon everyone. From first responders to those calling in and praying to ensure their loved ones' safety, many acts of love were committed that day in response to the gunman's singular act of hatred.

I'm not writing to debate gun control or any issue related to this. I reflect on the trial of human suffering; in spite of the worst that can be brought out of humanity, it can never truly quench the good that can come out of those willing to sacrifice for others. In the midst of tragedy and suffering exemplified by the recent hurricanes and last night's attack, never lose your focus on the good, little as it may seem.

"I will spend my heaven doing good on earth. I will let fall a shower of roses." --St. Therese of Lisieux

I found it fitting to use this quote from St. Therese, as her feast day was just yesterday. In her short life, she committed numerous little acts of love that nonetheless impacted her family, her congregation, and ultimately, the Church. Her "Little Way" serves as a model for those who might think their little good cannot overcome the evils in this world. As long as there is commitment to Love, hatred and evil cannot conquer us. In the midst of evil, let fall your roses.

No Such Thing as a "True Copy"

While I was studying for my digital humanities course this semester, I came across an interesting article entitled, "Building Meaning in Digitized Photographs". It feels a bit strange to write about an academic work in a casual blog like this, but what I read had me thinking about a personal issue many of us have encountered at least once in our life.

Cutting to the chase, the author, Paul Conway, talks about the implications surrounding the digitization of images. Conway brings to question whether or not these digital copies are true and equal to the analog originals from which they were taken. He then draws various examples of different copying methods and analyzes how "true" these copies are to the originals. In spite of advancements in digitization technology, Conway concluded that digitized images were--to some extent--altered copies of their originals and thus never the "true" originals.

The reason why I'm bringing this article up is that it relates to the idea of the role model or the "idol". We all have had people to look up to as examples on how to live our life. "I want to be like them!" "I want to be selfless as her!" "I wish I could be as talented as them!" Questions like these race through our minds as we think about the people we admire. It's a good thing to look up to exemplary people such as our family and friends, but when does one take it too far?

As much as we can copy the good deeds we witness (and I pray that we continue to do so), we are not meant to copy another one's life to the smallest detail. Our interests may not be the same. I might be called for one thing, and you may be called to do another. You cannot force yourself to conform 100% to someone else's lifestyle in the hopes that you can do exactly what they do; you will inadvertently have a different experience and perspective from what the other has, no matter how detailed your "equivalent" is.

Besides, if everyone lived out their lives the same as each other--like the society portrayed in Lois Lowry's "The Giver"--where is the dynamic beauty of diversity and originality? Life wouldn't be as motivating and adventurous if you knew how it was going to turn out based on what you've seen in others. You have your own story; you have been authored by the Author of Life Himself, with the next chapters hidden away for you to write out by your choices. The world is a library of books coming and going, and you have a chance to write the next inspirational best-seller for generations to read. You can cite from past works, but your work must be your own. It is the newness of your impact that makes the difference. Pass on the ideas, but make it your own in your place in your time; that will be the epicenter of your works.

"...I saw that all the flowers He has created are lovely. The splendour of the rose and whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. I realised that if every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness and there would be no wild flowers to make the meadows gay." --St. Thérèse of Lisieux, "The Story of a Soul"

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Open Ears

I forgot to bring my headphones.

I sat uncomfortably throughout my ride on the CTA this morning. I did not have the usual comfort of listening to Gemini Syndrome on my commute, instead looking everywhere and generally avoiding eye contact with other people; I occasionally looked through my Facebook profile and emails on my phone, but even that couldn't alleviate the discomfort and social anxiety. I was used to closing off the outside world with my headphones and staying comfortable in the stagnancy of my "happy place".

But not this time. With my ears open, I was barraged with the bustle and boom of the world around me. Conversations about recent events. Parents introducing their children to the public transit system. Arguments on the phone. Homeless people asking for help.

Why now? Why should I listen to all of this? It pains my ears to hear the pain in this world. I want the noise to stop.

But that's probably why my ears were opened in the first place. One can ignore the pain, but it doesn't make it go away; it will still be there when you return to reality. You'll have to treat it directly if you wish to make your world a place worth living in.

Reality can hurt. It's what we do with the hurt that brings us out either at our best or our worst. We open our ears and listen to our surroundings. What is wrong? How can we fix it? What is right? How can we cultivate it? More questions may lie behind these initial ones, but they lead to more refined answers as we delve and explore our world and our lives.

I'm glad I didn't bring my headphones.

"Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear." --Mark 4:9b

Break from the Break

Life can get pretty hectic, even when you think you're in a break period.

Today, I went on a men's retreat at St. John Cantius in Chicago (aka America's Most Beautiful Church). Figured I needed to reflect a little more on where I've gone in life and to discern a little more where God wanted to take me.

There was a lot of material given during the retreat talks relating to faith and theology, but what really struck me was the prayer involved. Undergoing the Sacrament of Penance, attending Holy Mass, and praying the Rosary and the Stations of the Cross became a revitalization for me who hadn't done most of these things in quite some time. I began to rethink the status of my faith and I realized I needed to be a bit more upfront and honest with myself.

Too long have I been stagnant waiting for God to drop answers from the sky; I know He has the answers, but I need to act if I truly wish to participate in His will. God's not a vending machine through which a certain number of prayers will get me the things I need, much less the things I want. I need to give myself to the One who gave Himself for me. That's how you get personal with God.

A Snail Mail Challenge

I've been chilling in my room for the few months following my return from Fort Jackson. I look around and see the numerous unused envelopes and stamps from basic training. And an idea pops into my head...

When I had my phone taken for the duration of basic, I was left with the option of communicating via traditional mail, for which I had to pay in order to get the needed materials to send a simple letter back home to my family and friends. It felt very weird at first--not having done this in well over a decade--but I soon got the hang of handwriting letters and addresses again.

In comparison to the texts I casually sent over my phone and my laptop, these messages felt more personal; instead of the relaxed convenience of typing on a touchscreen, I felt the strain on my wrist as I wrote and scribbled my messages. I felt the effort put into this communication; for the first time, I felt I was actually caring for my loved ones by making these mailings. Of course, I did feel something similar with digital messages, but in my case, the effort and the care felt real when I wrote my heart out.

When I was given my phone--and with it, the ability to text again--I felt different about the way I communicated after ten weeks of snail mail. Texting never felt as personal as writing a letter. Typing and leaving it for someone to eventually pick up their phone and see it didn't have the ring of, "I put in some of my resources just to speak my heart to you." I wanted to do more with the old styles, strange as it sounded.

And that feeling still echoes with me to this day. I want to experience the effort of caring and setting aside my resources for someone I love. I want that intimate feeling of true communication again. I want to pour my whole heart into creating a message that matters.

I have set a challenge for myself and for you readers as well if you wish to join in:

I'm going to start mailing people again. If you'd like, message me your mailing address (it will be kept confidential, of course), and I'll get to writing you a simple, but hopefully heartfelt letter. No matter where you are, I'll send you a message. For me, this is a personal exercise for my communications and relationships with others, and I encourage you to give it a try. It heavily affected my relationships with my loved ones during and after basic, and I'm happy with the changes. Happy writing!