Pay, Pray and Obey — A Meditation

I was among the last

of the pay, pray, and obey generation—

taught to bow my head,

memorize the catechism by rote,

recite prayers like clockwork gears,

confess sins on first Fridays,

and perform the penance assigned,

a Hail Mary for each failure.

It was discipline, yes—

and it was indoctrination,

a branding iron pressed early,

leaving marks I still trace with my soul.

In adulthood,

I search my heart like a field

littered with both treasure and landmines,

trying to separate

the true faith

from the residue of fear and guilt

disguised as virtue.

My Church—

not the mystical Bride,

but the institution—

has proven herself more human

than holy at times.

Infallibility is claimed

only under a strict veil,

and never once in my lifetime.

But fallibility—

oh, that’s been evident in scandal,

in harm,

in silence when there should have been cries.

And now it tries—

to atone,

to bow its own head

before the wounded.

Yet some wounds

can’t be healed with words

or even prayers.

They call for justice

sharp as steel.

Forgiveness—

a rare and precious grace—

may come,

but not without truth.

Not without change.

I pray—still—

not as a child obeying command,

but as a soul seeking light.

And I hope

our newly chosen Holy Father

feels the weight of what has been,

and the urgency

of what must now be.

Ambition's Lament

I entertain so many interests.

Yet I command so little time, so little money, so little energy.

How did Da Vinci do it?

How did he generate such a torrent of ideas, inventions, and masterpieces?

Yes, I can accept that he was a superior intellect, a mind bursting with divine creativity.

But the sheer volume of his output—it almost beggars belief.

Was he not also constrained by the same temporal bounds? Twenty-four hours? One body? One life?

My mind burns for stimulation like an addict writhing for a fix.

In my youth, electronic wizardry was my drug of choice—circuits, sensors, the hum of potential.

Then came computers and programming, the siren song of logic and power wrapped in glowing screens.

But my cravings are promiscuous.

Simpler, older crafts now tempt me with their devilish allure:

woodworking with its tactile honesty,

cooking with its alchemical transformations,

language—prose and poetry—with its power to distill soul into syllable.

Oh, the torment of abundance!

So many muses beckon.

So many doorways open.

But the keys—time, money, energy—rarely align.

I pace the corridors of my curiosity like a famished guest at a feast he cannot touch.

Ambition gnaws at me.

Completion mocks me.

Desire multiplies, while time remains stubbornly finite.

And still I ask—how did Da Vinci do it?

Was he gifted not just with genius, but with the cruel blessing of never tiring?

Or was he, too, hounded by the ache of unrealized visions—

a man haunted not by what he achieved, but by what he never had time to begin?

God, Country, and the Freedom to Choose

 

“You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

— John 8:32

I was remembering how two moral concepts—loyalty and service to my country, and dedication to God and the Catholic Church—were so strongly inculcated during my early years at St. Anne School. That recollection made me realize why the constitutional precept of the separation of Church and State—a dubious interpretation of the First Amendment—still evokes such an allergic reaction in me. My country, in a sense, is “my mother,” just as God is my “Father” (capitalization asserted out of reverence for Him). In my conscience, they are inseparable.

But is my dedication to God and Country the result of early indoctrination—the American Catholic equivalent of ideological conditioning—or have I indeed developed an informed conscience, a sense of right, wrong, morality, loyalty, and faith by which I freely regulate my behavior?

I believe Free Will is a gift from God. I choose to believe. It is the fact that I make a choice that affirms I am exercising my free will. Even writing this very essay—examining and questioning that choice—is further proof. If I am conscious enough to ask whether I believe freely, then am I not also intellectually free to decide my path? Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am.

But this dilemma touches on deep philosophical ground and deserves closer examination.

Are we not taught the “morally correct” answers during our formation in school—provided with what is called an informed conscience by a presumed moral authority? Would you deny Christ as Peter did? Would you denounce God to avoid the sword? Would you betray your country to save your life? Are you Benedict Arnold or Nathan Hale? Catholic school certainly had its scary days!

Yet despite that formation—or indoctrination, depending on one’s view—do we not still possess free will? Are we not capable of discovering courage within our own consciences? Can we not choose the righteous path not merely because it is expected or taught as “morally correct,” but because we know, deep within, that it is the way of truth?

I believe we can. And when we do, it is the clearest sign of our freedom.

To God alone, the Author of Freedom — Marc Ernest Brodeur

War

(Originally written - June 01, 

I have always sensed an uncanny symbiosis with the WWII generation. Actually, I'm a mid-era baby boomer born in 1954. Last night I was watching the A&E presentation about General Eisenhower and the prelude to D-Day. Somehow, I felt an empathy and a presence in that part of history.

I was greatly impressed by the depiction of the Supreme Commander's concern and compassion for the lives which would ransom freedom on the beaches of Normandy. I sensed at least a ghostly share of the heavy weight that he carried. I was also awestruck by the speech he made to the King and Queen of England as he presented the plans for Operation Overlord (I have no idea of the historical accuracy of this scene.) When His Majesty questioned the inevitable carnage that the invasion plans required, General Eisenhower, portrayed by Tom Selleck, reverently acknowledged the human cost of freedom and prognosticated the apocalyptic inevitability [quoted to the best of my recollection], "If they do not offer the sacrifice of their blood now, we will pay dearly with extra gallons later."

So, we find ourselves facing evil once again in 2004. Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden are merely Satan's latest personnas. Yet, they are uniquely symptomatic of a deeper disease like festering boils on the dark hindquarters of humanity. The true evil is the ponderous and pervasive hostility, malevolence and hatred that gnaw at the soul of humanity. Like an unrelenting cancer, it seems that jealousy, greed, selfishness, lust, power and fear cannot be destroyed but merely coaxed into ephemeral and mortal remission.

Americans are not any more or less inherently evil than the other six billion hominal inhabitants of this island in the cosmos, but our societal imperfections and failings are too willingly dismissed or arrogantly denied by the self righteous who attribute the greatness and power of our nation to God's approval and blessing.

I see this crusade against the first "ism" of the third millenia much like the fight against the evils of Nazism, Facism, and Communism. The sacrifices that have been and will yet be made in Afghanistan and Iraq are as necessary and tragic as those made on the beaches of Normandy. America is leading the global battle against this contemporay incarnation of evil called "terrorism." Yet, the best we can ever achieve is a stalemate with evil as we futily wrest and subdue our inherent malevolence into dormant and restless hibernation, just as the sacrifices at Normandy and the horrors of the atom bomb did in WWII.

How do we mitigate this manifestly unremitting curse? I wonder. Do we even want to?

Faith


I cannot prove that God exists. God transcends human understanding. There are no scientific methods, experiments or tangible observations that can be made to test His existence. There is no flow of logic from premise to syllogisms to conclusion that validate this proposition. It is at least somewhat comforting that the converse cannot be proven either. The evidence of His absence is indistinguishable from the absence of the evidence. Appealing to ignorance to derive a proof is a fallacy.

I believe in God without insisting that the arrogant human demand for control of the universe be satisfied. God need not be bound by the laws of Physics, sometimes regarded as synonymous with "Natural Law". God is "super" natural. God is divine.

That I can believe and desire to believe are evidence enough of His existence. That I feel Him within me as surely as I feel my own heartbeat, I have no doubt. That is His gift which I freely and happily accept.

The world is immense and complex. It's vastness includes space, matter, energy and life. These provide a canvas for beauty and love. I see beauty everywhere. I know love. God is love.

God is real.