Today, I attended the second session at the Jesuit Retreat House: ‘Music and the Listening Heart & The Grace of Accompanying Others in a Divided World’, conducted by Christopher Pramuk. There is no doubt of the authenticity of the speaker. He is a moral man of academia, possessing the compassionate heart of a religious artist. Many things involving the encounter left me empty. I am concentrating upon the Four Absolutes: Honesty, Unselfishness, Purity, and Love in the pursuit of stability and recovery from alcoholism within my own life. Christopher identified three intense evils constantly working upon individuals: Fear, Delusion, and Hatred. I recall my contentious formation during my time with Father David Mary. His conservative opinions were harsh upon the Jesuit order. Within the complexity of life, the mystery of God, I reflected upon the fact Father David Mary’s ability to move and inspire young people. A man of extremes and conflict, his trudging toward holiness is absolute. He was never one to shy away from intense self-examination, brutal honesty. The conflict of ways arose when I understood the members of the Ignatian tradition focused deeply upon education. There is a conviction they are called to work profoundly with young people, especially black children, and beyond that their liberal political opinions weighed heavily upon their dispositions. Social Justice is forefront in their embracing of Catholicism. As a man leaning toward conservative values, possibly a paradox when it is considered that I relate experientially with a description I read of J.K. Huysmans’ main characters: an alienated man, at odds with his surroundings, unsure of himself, dragged down by unhealthy living, constantly on the lookout for something valuable in a worthless world. Catholicism has never been in doubt, anchored by Divine intercession; dismissed visions lovingly guiding toward security. Mary took it upon herself to ensure my wanderings would not be for naught. Undertaking detachment, I will explore troubling factors regarding the Ignatian spirituality met with today. I changed my mind. I will not waste my time. The passive aggressive delusion witnessed need not be dwelled upon, at least not in writing. Mentally, I am a seemingly hopeless man of obsession. I recall Christopher’s response regarding what a righteous one was to do regarding the political turmoil confronting the nation during the last week. He advised something akin to deep breaths and the envisioning of embracing, cradling. opponents with a deep love. It seemed cowardly and delusional. Instead of identifying accountability and personal imperfections—childish preconceptions blocking, he was really saying there is nothing more one could do. There was no bridging the divide for the opponent was insane. The opponent is so wrong and inferior, one can only share with them a superior love. Instead of granting those of opposing voices integrity, dignity, and a proper voice in a two-party system, he could only see the route of playing the sacrificing hero—a superior gracing his love to inferiors. I think of the serious voices within the conservative movement, a confrontational and divisive man like Rush Limbaugh. His ideas and intellect cannot be dismissed. He is a man of vision. Within a two-party system, respect is a two-way street. The humanist liberal mindset destroys left to its own devices—it must witness its part in the secular moral bankruptcy afflicting our nation and the horrendous warzone conditions of the inner-cities. The wisdom of Rerum Novarum and the novel ‘Lord of the World’ must be heeded. I recall in the Hindu masterpiece Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna and Krishna poised in their chariot, positioned between two warring armies. Rush Limbaugh is no worse than Christopher Pramuk. The passive aggressive nature to present a resolution as Christopher did bewilders. To witness the unethical assault, the reality that nothing was done properly in an all-out unsubstantiated attack upon the character of a good Catholic man. To witness the demonic onslaught levied against Brett Kavanaugh, a family man who conducted an honorable career, and find no fault is not a mindset deserving to grace its love upon others. To witness young fanatical agitating woman getting in the face, disrespecting, men of elected position, manipulating the political system while abandoning civil respectability—to respond with a superior attitude that I will play the hero and offer my self-proclaimed holiness, praying my wayward opponents see the errors of their ways, is spiritual immaturity. The polarization of our country will never be overcome with such blatant shallowness. Consider the fact, that with these enlightened Ignatians, we, a gathering of all white folks, spent almost the entirety of our day discussing racism. Isn’t there something delusional, divisive, and racist in that very fact? On top of the political confusion, a religious happening during the retreat must not be ignored. During the end of his program, Christopher announced there would be no Mass. The schedule for the weekend retreat stated there would be a Mass to end the gathering. I eagerly anticipated the Mass, positive it would be an ending with a proper love. At the last moment, Christopher casually announced there would be no Mass. I was startled. After everything that occurred, considering a preannounced retreat ending Mass, now the Mass was dismissed as if it were nothing. We would all be able to leave early. Priorities appeared strange. I thought of a woman, a sister in street clothes I assumed—a woman I think was once the secretary at St Paul Shrine—expressing a wish that young people would embrace meditation before the Eucharist. Another sister in street clothes countered, stating Eucharistic Adoration was good, yet one could encounter God walking in the woods, in conversation, in all places. The whole idea of ‘reimagining’ the Church, superiors figuring out ways to do things better predominated. I wondered if there was a subtle pleasure in stripping the Church of authority. The Ignatians would define, ‘reimagining’, what was holy and sacred. After all, others were hampered by their preconceptions, while the Ignatians are not. A sister in street clothes sitting with me presented the idea of women priest as if it was a given that the idea was a must for the Church to grow in fullness. Again, that passive aggressive childish arrogance that assumed, for whatever reasons, an Ignatian open mind could not be disagreed with. I am sure if confronted, she would take deep breaths and offer misguided opponents her love. There was an overall feminine nature to the spirituality, yet it was a femininity devoid of a consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Within all its mystery, allure, and power the feminine nature also possesses a mischievous wicked side—a passive aggressive manipulating spirit whose memory is long and unforgiving. Hell hath NO fury as that of a woman scorned. Enough. A walking contradiction, I had decided to say nothing. I am grateful for the companionship. I ate lunch and took a walk around the grounds with an extremely talkative woman, a character with many ideas; a mind quick, kind, and nomadic. I am sure I will encounter her at St Charles Borromeo. Also, I consider my obstante and conflicting nature. The same severity of criticism I levy against the liberal mind of the Church, I also do toward the overly scrupulous and dogmatic conservative traditionalist of the faith. For all it faults and uselessness, it is who I am. I am prone to conflict. Maybe that is why J.K. Huysmans writing appeals tremendously. I want to leave on a positive note regarding Christopher Pramuk. He is a man I admire, living a life far superior to my own. He wonderfully shared his love of Stevie Wonder music. Let’s end with a Stevie Wonder song and some photos. The Steve Wonder song was written for his daughter, Aisha—Life.

Saturday mornings and afternoons have established themselves as essential to moving forward in the pursuit of God and thus myself. My Home Group meeting, a men’s Big Book study, and noon Mass at St Paul Shrine followed by communal prayer arise as the highlights of my week. Today was profound; experiences, thoughts, and peace elevating to an insightful awareness. However, something strange happened when I returned home alone. A darkness came over me, a turn of events I did not anticipate. A sloth and depression overwhelmed. I decided to undergo this writing effort with the hope of understanding. The Home Group meeting flew past in expressing; a group reading and discussion touching upon sponsorship/mentorship—the effort of working with others in regard to recovery and spiritual growth. My comfort level with the group of men is astounding, unnatural for myself. One man overwhelms with his approach of structure and reliance upon a program strictly based upon tradition. I have approached him to be my sponsor, understanding the gentleman associated with the original Catholic group who welcomed me to Cleveland was not going to work out. I hold no grudges or judgement, comprehending he will remain a quality friend. The scope of fellowship nicely forms. There are friends, and now one I will attempt a concentrated introspective dissecting of myself through the principles and basics of AA. A deeper working of the program will be broached. It was reassuring that Jeff, the potential sponsor, recited almost the exact words the Jesuit spiritual director expressed. We will move forward, following a prescribed program while allowing the spirit to guide regarding commitments. There would be no pronouncements, promises, within an advancement of limited expectations. Jeff’s use of precise tools, first an MPG Big Book study—Part 1, that I am to listen to, taking notes on what I agree with, disagree with, and overall thoughts occurring during the listening. The exercise will be conducted this evening, followed by a discussion with Jeff. He has an outline of precise exercises we will conduct in discerning the Big Book while engaging the working of the Twelve Steps. The concrete directions are easy to adhere to, pleasing to my need for structure. I admire Jeff, identifying something about his approach that holds me captivated. He is a blue-collar man who has come into his own through his efforts in recovery. He has grown into a man of wisdom and understanding based upon his overcoming of alcoholism. Humility is coupled with enthusiasm, an excitment to share; while the need for cleverness, individual attention and recognition are shunned. He possesses attributes I was seeking yet not encountering. Within the group of men in the Home Group, he harmonizes, aligning for a deeper penetration. There is another man, older and an elder in the program, a Catholic who attracts as a friend for sharing time together. We will possibly watch the Notre Dame/Stanford game tonight, yet he was unable to commit until he was positive of the plans of his wife and adult children. It is nice to have people texting me, those a part of a new beginning. I am contented with the fact my recovery fellowship emerges. Last night, the gentleman who I first attempted a sponsor relationship informed me of a religious service, a healing Mass and a half hour of song followed by fellowship, at the parish of St Thomas More. The gathering proved rewarding, however he never showed. I did meet others, including a man named Angel—another man associated with the original group of recovery men: Paul and Jim. I would meet Angel today entering St Paul Shrine. Handshakes, warm words, and authentic concern for one another were shared. He informed that today was the feast day of the Archangels. Impressively, communal prayers after Mass are experiencing intense grace; new members, and a depth of fresh inspiration breathing into my life. I spoke at length with the leader of the prayers, Shirley, who agreed with my assessment. She also identifies a new-found depth in our communal prayers. She informed me she has been praying that God would send more members to share in our Holy Hour of prayer. A Holy Hour that sublimely extends closer to two hours of prayer and religious expression. There are three new women appearing as blessings: authentic and devoted. During my discussion with Shirley, in which we shared our personal states of being, she touched upon her deeper conversion that occurred when she was first introduced to St Paul Shrine. Her conversion leading to a complete surrender and devotion to Christ and the contemplative life brought forth the name of a friend. I almost typed former friend. I remained silent, listening to the entirety of the story being told, while considering the name with regard to an identity, complexity, and myself. I reached no conclusions, dismissing with as little entanglement as possible. Within the expansion and struggles of a new life in Christ, a beginning within a life of beginnings, I recognize the need to remain detached—a detachment based upon faith, hope, and charity subject to the limitation of my abilities. God is wiping clean the slate in order to express Himself with greater clarity through my brothers and sisters. Within the love of Christ for all souls, I respect the immensity of reality. Selfishness, imperfection and perceived needs are released. Jeff made the remark when speaking of the severity of his condition that the footsteps story—the dual footsteps on the beach turning to one as Christ carried him through his difficulties, must properly include the large indentation of a body being dragged through the sand when Christ was forced to drag his obstinate ass. Enough. I have worked my way out of the funk. I changed my mind. I would like to express thoughts on J.K. Huysmans. I decided to go back in time with respect to his writing. There is a novel before the Durtal trilogy, the intense conversion of a wordly man, an artist and intellectual, converting to a profound Catholicism. The novel ‘La Bas’ (The Damned) chronologically follows Huysmans ‘A Rebours’ (Against Nature or Against the Grain), critically recognized as his masterpiece of French Decadent writing. ‘A Rebours’ is required reading in many advanced literature programs, however I am convinced Huysmans would rest his laurels upon his Durtal trilogy. ‘La Bas’ I feared, hesitant and leery about exploring the novel. The subject of satanism is explored as Durtal writes a history of the French historical enigmatic character Gilles de Rais—a contemporary and close companion of Joan of Arc. Gilles de Rais would end his days with horrible infamy, convicted as an atrocious, unbelievable, murderer and abuser of children—a man whose brutally perverted life would devolve into the satanic realm. Rais is a man who abandoned himself, and others, to the most wretched of ends, a damned eternity that must be recognized and feared. Hell and satan are realities. Father Roger touched upon the matter today in his homily exploring the Archangels. Mixed with a morbid curiosity, sensationalism, a desire to explore the extreme, I was not sure I should approach Huysmans novel. Moving toward the end of the novel, I am confident it was proper to experience Huysmans effort. Huysmans is not a sensationalist, nor worker of the macabre. He is a writer of greater purpose. I am convinced he is not totally aware of the deeper spiritual battles arising within his novels. We are not only battling ourselves. Deeper principalities are always at work. The exploration, the experience, of the darkest of evils ignites Durtal’s deeper conversion—the Durtal trilogy surpasses ‘La Bas’. Wickedness itself can be used by God to lead souls to heaven. Huysmans unique utilization of ruthless honesty, an ability to recognize truth within experience and thought, is the guiding light allowing advancement. That which promotes peace, wisdom, and understanding usurps that which goes nowhere or destroys. Trudging through the bondage of self, open and willing to both good and evil, Huysmans’ discernment never fails him. That which he clings to is that which is proper for his salvation. The process of his conversion involves the progression through darkness and the overcoming of evil—including the greatest of all evils: the deceiver, the greatest of liars. If one holds to truth, lies are unable to endure.

Father Roger has returned, another moment of innocence and devotion allowing the Holy Spirit to speak through him. Educating the attending on St Wenceslaus, he delved into politics. He spoke of political corruption, establishing the fact that in his country the common people trusted NO politicians. All politicians were recognized as liars. Experience taught the people he was raised amongst to distrust any who sought political advancement; “They promised heaven, yet produced hell”. He advanced his homily by stressing that St Wenceslaus was a different kind of politician, a Christian king compassionate and giving to all people, a true servant to those who served him. Elaborating on the persecution of St Wenceslaus and his eventual assassination by his own brother, Father Roger, I am convinced unknowingly, elucidated on the current state of political chaos in the United States. It was a remarkable moment of soothing, a peace offering to the noise of the world. I heard some men discussing a similar reaction to the homily after Mass in the lobby. With thoughtful Catholic minds, they expressed bewilderment by the severity of attack upon Judge Kavanaugh. There was humility, peace and trust within their voices.