a treatise of embers

Yesterday, a friend of mine called me a "spiritual arsonist."  I love this.  There are so many souls.  SO many souls.  We have to get them.  Peggy told me that Mother Teresa once said, "Zeal for souls is the effect and the proof of true love of God."  Guess what?  She's my spiritual grandmother.  That's pretty marvelous.

I also love these:

Why?  Because I'm a pyro.  Well, not in the most psychologically disturbing way (like in Firestarter, for instance.)  But fire has to be one of my favorite things ever.  I used to be the one who sat next to the fireplace at Christmas, no matter how hot I got, just to throw the wrapping paper in and watch it burn.  On my 25^th birthday, we had my party in my friend’s backyard and, of course, we had a fire pit.  Well, someone gave me a basket full of presents.  I’m not really a basket person (basket case, maybe), so, naturally, I chucked it into the fire so I could watch it burn.  IT.  WAS.  SO.  COOL.

One of my favorite things is building a fire, especially like this.  At some very basic, instinctual level, I know that everything will be ok because I can create fire.

One of the things I love best about CYE is the campfire aspect.  CS Lewis said, "Is there any pleasure on earth as great as a circle of Christian friends by a good fire?"  No.  Really.  There’s not.  As a melancholic, I’d much rather spend quiet, shared moments with my friends doing things that we both enjoy than sitting around squawking like chickens.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a good (read “meaningful”) conversation, but sometimes it’s just great to BE with one another.  And, lemme tell you, finding people who know and understand this is a shot in the dark. 

There’s one part of a fire that I love the most, and I love it in two ways.  The first is when the fire is absolutely ROARing, and you look beneath the logs to the embers below, and they are almost WHITE HOT.  You can just feel the heat by looking at this part of the fire. It glows with such a ferocity that I’m always transfixed by it.  Then, all the flames completely die down. All that’s left is a bed of burning coals that constantly waver between different hues of red, orange, and black.  This part is my favorite because something is still burning, moving, and changing beneath the surface. It's mesmerizing. The flames and outward sign (effects) are gone, but the base is still burning. Ever notice how easy it is to extinguish flames? Flames are easy to put out; a little spray of water, and you’re done. Embers are another story. They’re so hot that they actually change the elements. It takes much more effort to extinguish embers, and, even then, you have to deal with the steam and smoke. I recently came across this quote from Escrivá in The Furrow:

 "You have to be a live ember that sets fire to whatever it touches. And, when your surroundings are incapable of catching fire, you have to raise their spiritual temperature. If not, you are wasting time miserably, and wasting the time of those around you."

I love it when he gives me a spiritual kick to the face like that.  He's all: "Set the world ablaze, or you're wasting your time."  Well, frick!  Let's move our asses!

My brother and I were baptized Catholic.  We both had our reasons for walking away from the Faith (I should probably ask him about his), but I came back; he didn't.  I wish he would sometimes, but it is what it is.  This isn't to say he's a total pagan or going to Hell or anything.  (News flash- Catholics don’t believe that crap (1 Timothy 2:3-4, 2 Peter 3:9, and CCC 1037).)  He’s one of the strongest Christians that I know.  He had a very profound conversion in college, and his relentless scripture quoting at me really had a bigger hand in my own conversion than he knows.  Anyways, Catholic or not, he was the first one that I called after my conversion expedition.  I was just completely ON FIRE with the Spirit.  I imagine I must have sounded like the apostles after Pentecost, but all I remember from that conversation was: “Dude.  Ryan.  God is so good and Jesus saved me and I want to be Confirmed and I want God to send down his Holy Spirit to MAKE ME INTO HIS HOLY BLOWTORCH!!!!"

I don’t remember how my brother responded, but I think it was stunned silence or a chuckle.  Heh.  Half of what comes out of my mouth is stupidity, the other half is divine inspiration.  

Henceforth, it was known across the land that I was to be God’s Holy Blowtorch (which is my email address, which is a GREAT way to evangelize).  I started going to Mass for the first time (outside of CYE) in six years, and I signed up for Confirmation (more about that in another post).  I was confirmed on January 5, 2005 by Bishop Morneau at St. Thomas the Apostle in Newton with the other high-schoolers, and that’s when the fun REALLY began.  Of all the gifts and fruits that the Holy Spirit bestowed upon me (wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, fear of the Lord, charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, and chastity), He decided to chiefly manifest Himself in my life via fortitude.  This Fortitude was made known to me in two very distinct and difficult ways: holy boldness and holy obligation, and lemme tell you, HOLINESS IS NOT EASY.  There’s a reason why I love Ephesians 6:10-20 so much: I’m always running into battle. 

I think that the first way my holy obligation popped up was actually during the Confirmation liturgy.  We were told beforehand that Bishop would most likely ask us questions about the faith.  I was JACKED about this.  I wanted a chance to finally prove that I was doing this because I wanted to, needed to, and knew exactly why I was doing it.  I was severly disappointed, though.  Bishop, God love him, asked us two very simple (read “stupid and shallow”) questions: “What are the two major parts of the Bible?  If you had to teach your friend about the life of Jesus, which part would you have them read?”

I was fresh off the warrior train.  I wanted to be tested and challenged in my faith, to be a martyr, a scholar, a saint (not so much, because I had no idea), not be asked to rattle off some remedial fact I’d known since second grade.  GAH!  LAME.  This.  THIS is what Catholics were to know by the time they were supposed to step up and take ownership of their faith?!  NO wonder we’re losing people in droves, they don’t know JACK, and they’re not expected to know it!  (More on that later).  But, here I was, ready to run, screaming, into the fray, and instead of a sword and shield, all I got was a butter knife.

DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPOSSIBLE IT IS TO
 SLAY DRAGONS WITH A BUTTER KNIFE?!

How mediocre.  I.  WAS.  NOT.  SATISFIED. 

“Do not be afraid. Do not be satisfied with mediocrity. Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” -JP2   Ya damn right, Papa.

It was at that point that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that I had to learn how to properly enunciate and defend the truth about my Faith.  I couldn't sit idly by while other Catholics were content with lukewarm mediocrity.  I wasn't about to be spit out.  The Holy Spirit engulfed my heart and spurned me to act with fearlessness, ferocity, and fortitude.

All alliteration aside, I started lighting fires in my home parish, in SFA Lifeteen (God, help us), in school, on my blog, on facebook, EVERYWHERE.  I knew that Satan was out to get the Catholic Church, and I had to defend her.  To step up and be a warrior after seven lethargic years is quite a daunting task.  I read the Bible in a year, kept going to CYE, led retreats, gave my witness, led small groups, joined the choir, went to faith enriching events (met Mike Muhs and recruited him to CYE, as well as others), started listening exclusively to Christian music, and started going to daily Mass.  I was the only one there under 50.  And, in fact, Mass started so close to the time that I was done with work that I was inevitably late.  When I approached Fr. to ask him if he could push the Mass time back 15 minutes, he asked all the LOLz (little old ladies), and they all responded in the resoundingly affirmative.  (RISE UP, YOUNG CHURCH!) 

But, it wasn’t enough.  The overwhelming amount of activity kept me so busy that it consumed me.  I was doing all of that to foster my relationship with Christ, but I wasn't doing anything else:  no prayer, no spiritual reading, no spiritual direction, no commitment to Reconciliation.  Nothing.  I was still struggling with having pro-abortion issues and “women’s rights” in the Church, too.  (Bahahahahahaha, I was such an idiot.  Fear makes us do a lot of stupid things.)  It didn't help that I went to a CINO (Catholic in name only) college and had a Lutheran femi-nazi as my favorite prof and advisor.  Not that I have anything against Lutherans (Hey, Luther himself was a Catholic at one point who loved the Blessed Mother and just pretty much misunderstood the rest).  She supported some pretty hefty things contrary to the Catholic faith and worked them into our curriculum in the name of “academic freedom.”   *rolls eyes*   By the time my conversion rolled around, though, she was less of an influence in my life.  Anyways, I joined up at a parish and was really active.  I was on committees and everything (I want to punch my idiot 23 year old self in the face right now)!  When the priest gave his homilies at this parish, I felt as if Christ was speaking directly to my soul.  I took notes.

But it wasn't enough.  I felt it, but I didn't will it.  I was a victim of a feel-good hippie spirituality:  the sprout without roots.  I knew absolutely nothing about my faith other the fact that I could feel it.  In order to help people with their spiritual problems, the best I had to offer was “just have faith.”

What utter nonsense.  

It wasn't until my first year as a full-time youth minister (no theology degree, mind you), that I actually began learning anything about the Faith.  Like so many of the confirmation students that I interviewed, I knew what made me Catholic, but I had no idea WHY.  And that, in and of itself, is an astounding reflection of the ridiculously mediocre (and also incredibly negative and hypocritical) Catholic education that I received for 18 years.  Intolerable (Which is why I’ll be HOMESCHOOLING my children, God-willing   But more on that in another post). My education was all Big Mac and no Filet Mignon (as Christopher West would most likely say).  Nothing heavier, denser, and deeper.  It was all instant gratification, feel-good, hippie crap.  No act of the will involved.  Why should I settle for McDonald’s when I have a 5-star restaurant at my fingertips?  (Anthony Bourdain and Gordon Ramsay would have my head.)

No wonder CYE kicked my ass so harshly.  When something’s been easy for a very long time and it’s suddenly antithetical to what you’re used to, your world is shattered.  Christ flips you over.

So anyways, to bring us back around here, I was a holy blowtorch, which I still consider myself to be.  However, let’s juxtapose “holy blowtorch” and “spiritual arsonist.”  Oooooooh how I love juxtaposition.  Not only is it one of my favorite words (you win at life if you tell me why), but it’s a great comparison tool. 

Now, a blowtorch is classically defined by Webster as:

blow·torch

 noun \ˈblō-ˌtȯrch\

Definition of BLOWTORCH

: a small burner having a device to intensify combustion by means of a blast of air or oxygen, usually including a fuel tank pressurized by a hand pump, and used especially in plumbing

That's all well and good, but I prefer this kind of blowtorch.  Regardless, it's an inanimate object.  It has all the mechanisms to create fire and set other things aflame, but it must be used by someone that knows how it functions.  MIND BLOWN.  A blowtorch has no idea that it sets things on fire, it just sets them on fire.  It lets itself be used because it’s a passive piece of machinery. 

This makes absolute sense when applied to my early spiritual life.  I had no idea what I was doing, I just let God use me to set the world ablaze.  In my (now) opinion, I was an ignorant, childish Jesus Freak who would probably lose any theological debate thrown at her.  And that’s fine, because I was zealous at the same time.  It's, as we in youth ministry like to put it, "where I was at."  I wasn't so concerned about pursuing Truth as I was about being a tool for Christ, and a child-like one at that.  One has to have a certain degree of docility (not passivity) to the Holy Spirit when striving for sainthood.  But, believe me, sainthood wasn't even on my mind at that point.  My main focus was retaining my “Jesus high,” which took an unexpectedly lengthy amount of time to wear off.  Back to docility: the Holy Spirit says, “go,” and you go, with urgency; CYE MI taught me that well.  It’s not so much that I did things blindly or without free will as a tool for Christ, it’s just that the Fire had imbued my soul and I had a difficult time keeping it in (Jeremiah 20:9), especially when I felt convicted to reach out to someone.

Well now, I think that this Holy Blowtorch has become less of a passive tool and more of an active participant.  I’m less of the blowtorch myself and more of the spiritual arsonist who carries the blowtorch around.  

Let's take a look at what the über credible source, Wikipedia has to say about arsonists:

1. The malicious
2. burning
3. of the dwelling
4. of another

Heh.  I love how they did that.  Next, Webster's:

ar·son

 noun \ˈär-s^ən\

: the willful or malicious burning of property (as a building) especially with criminal or fraudulent intent

(Right now, I'd use "first of all," but I'm really being redundant with that phrase lately, and thesaurus.com isn't much help.)  Gah!  

This analogy has just got me giggling myself into stitches.  I absolutely love it.  It's perfect, especially for this time in my life.  Now, I do NOT endorse crime or sin AT ALL, but I'd like to examine this metaphor vis-à-vis my spiritual life.  

The main difference between these two metaphors is quite obvious: passive instrument vs. active participant.  An arsonist is a person with free will (or not, depending on psychological condition, dispensation, etc. etc. etc.), who has a specific intention, and that specific intention is to set fire to someone's something for some reason or another.

As a spiritual arsonist, I am no longer a holy blowtorch, a passive instrument allowing the Holy Spirit to use me until I'm completely out of fuel, which is pretty much what happened to my spirituality in the past.  I'm now an active participant in setting the hearts of others ablaze for Christ.  "My heart grew hot within me.  While I was musing, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue" -Psalm 39:3.  (HOW DID I MISS THAT ONE?!)  Your heart is your inner room (Matt 6:6), and it needs to be burning for Christ.  

Now, there's one problem that I have with the definition of arsonist: there's always malicious intent.  My intent to set hearts ablaze for Christ, I think, is anything but malicious.  However, most people who do not know or understand the Truth, or those who know they are living a sinful life will most likely perceive my actions as a malicious attack, no matter how charitable I speak or act.  And, most often, this has nothing to do with me.  "It's just," as Marsellus Wallace would say, "pride, screwin' with you."  Most people only think I'm attacking them personally if their hearts are attempting to convict them to desperately change, but the Deceiver keeps whispering to them that they're just fine they way they are.  They believe it.

And, hey, I'm just as in need of daily metanoia as any of you sinners out there.  Do you honestly think that I go to Confession every two weeks because I'm holy?  No, I do it because I suck at life and I sin (and I need to be obedient to my spiritual director).  

Anyways, the most attractive thing about this "spiritual arsonist" thing is that it's active.  Inactive is unattractive (especially if you're a man!)!  This kind of spiritual warfare spurns me to action, and now, with what I've learned and faced, I need to know my shit.  Sorry to swear, but there's really no other way to describe that.  I'm going to be going up against either some pretty well-educated people or some pretty ignorant people, or people who kind of know what's going on, but they need more.  And I need to know my shit.  

Truth is a better speaker and converter of hearts than my mediocre mouth ever will be.  As an arsonist, though, I need to be well-informed: I need to know how to use the blowtorch in my hand: What kind of fuel do I use?  Where's my target?  How big should the flame be?  What's the range?  How do I refuel?  I need to have a plan.

That's hot.  (Bahahahahaha!)  There's nothing more attractive than a plan.  Sporadic actions are great fun, too (id est, docility to the Holy Spirit), but I won't be as docile if I don't know what in the hell I'm doing.  Where can I get more fuel?  Why am I doing this?  And on and on and on and on.  

Anyways, I was at Pacem in Terris where I discovered this gem.  I was particularly curious about Aquinas's writing on angels at that point, just having discovered that someone could see their guardian angel or find out their name if they wanted to.  Anyways, I was smitten as I flipped through the book in a quiet corner of the library.  When I began CYE MI, Peggy actually had a copy that I read in front of the Blessed Sacrament each morning until I bought my own.  It took me about a year to finish the entire thing (reading it almost daily for about 20 minutes).  My life as a spiritual arsonist really began during my second summer on CYE.  (Again, if you haven't been on one, you need to go.)  After the first two summers, before I began Missionary Internship, the blowtorch was kind of wrenched from my hands, and I slowly began the exact art and subtle science (props for those of you who get the reference) of learning how to ignite hearts with the blowtorch as opposed to being the passive tool furiously flailing flames to ignite hearts. It had a lot to do with the formation that I received on CYE over the course of 2 summers and 9 months.  We read this, this, this, and this.  Then, we watched this, this, and this.  I also got a hold of this, this, and this.   It is difficult work to make a spiritual ignition more than a surface encounter.  We're talking freaking bottom of the iceberg that ripped apart the Titanic here.  This was my first serious encounter with the Truth, and I fell into this deep abyss of tranquil conviction; I couldn't get enough of it.  This time, it was much deeper than a feeling, it was an active, conscious choice to agree, to assent, and to obey, or, as the man himself says in the Summa Theologica, IIa-IIae, Q. 2 a. 9:  

"The act of believing is an act of the intellect assenting to the Divine truth at the command of the will moved by the grace of God."

That.  That's what I want people to know (not feel), that "Our God is a consuming fire" (Hebrews 12:29, Deuteronomy 4:24).  I want their hearts consumed with a firm and hearty love for God based in reason, free-will, and conscious choice.  It must be an act of the will, or it is going to fizzle out as quickly as rolled up magazine paper used to start an enormous bonfire (not very effective). This consumption of their hearts will enable them to be spiritual arsonists by picking up their own preferred blowtorches (id est, whichever gifts God gave them) and blazing their own paths.  And, believe me, they're out there.  Perhaps they're lying dormant and just waiting for a spark.

Well, what are you waiting for?!