Omaha! Omaha!

509 is a big number this week. Manning etched his name on another page of the history books as he passed Brett Favre’s career TD passing record. The media has been appropriately slack-jawed. Some brief stats for the math nerds among us:

            Average passing TD per team per game last season: 1.54

            Therefore, average passing TDs per 16-game season: 24.6

            Number of seasons you would need to play to hit 509 throwing the average: 21.2

            Average years a QB plays in the NFL: 4.4 (a far cry from 21.2)

            Number of NFL players who have played more than 20 seasons: 6

            Number of those players who were not a kicker or punter: 0 (although one was a QB and a kicker, not sure how that happens)

In other words, statistically it’s highly improbable to get anywhere close to 500 touchdown passes. Favre had to come out of retirement about 7 times to reach that milestone. And Manning isn’t done yet.

But the stats tell only half the story. What’s amazing to me is that Manning has done this year in and year out, no matter who his receivers are or who the opponent is, and it’s because of his work ethic. He’s notorious for being the one who spends the most time preparing, watching film, studying the playbook, coaching the receivers, practicing and practicing and practicing. He’s respectful, intelligent, humble, and generous. In a world where million dollar fines for childish behavior are routine, Peyton’s been fined all of once for a grand total of $8628. Instead, his millions go to support the communities that have supported him, helping underprivileged kids through the PeyBack Foundation.

I believe it’s why he makes everyone around him a better player, why Elway made such a gamble on the unknown, and why the Broncos are now America’s favorite team. Who knows where the touchdown record will finally stand, or how many other records Manning will pass on his road to Canton. He has the numbers to pave the way, but his legacy will be much more than that, and for good reason.  

The Great

One of the marks of the great events of human history is that you remember where you were when they happened. JFK's assassination, the moon landing, 9/11. When John Paul II died, I was at Walmart picking up (Sister) Susan's glasses. We had been watching CNN for days as he lay dying, praying for him, knowing we were witnessing history. After he died, a friend called to express her condolences. Not a Catholic, she nonetheless knew that losing the leader of our Church would have affected me. It wasn't until then that I really had a chance to reflect on what he had meant to me. I told her he was a spiritual father to me, and I meant it.

I remember Mom telling me once that since JPII was the only pope we had ever known, we couldn't understand that this wasn't the way it always was. The pope wasn't always so visible, so magnetic, so prolific. Yet, as one of the JPII generation, I grew up reading his writings, seeing him in the news, studying his teachings. The second time I saw him in person, in Toronto (maybe the third, if you count WYD 1993, where we barely were close enough to see screens of his face), we were packed in along the barricades, awaiting his arrival. Cheers rang out as the helicopter passed overhead, circling closer. Somehow, I found myself balanced atop a folding sports chair, three rows back, clutching my disposable camera (my real camera's batteries had died the day before. Of course.).

As the popemobile got closer, you could feel his presence. I can't really explain it. It wasn't necessarily a visible thing, but it was tangible, this wave of grace that flowed over the crowd as he passed them by. Even as distracted as I was by trying to snap a picture without falling off my chair, I noticed it. It was like a gentle shock wave, or a bath of warm water. It was the Holy Spirit and the presence of a Saint.

There are other memories I have ("You are young. The pope is old."), and numerous writings and teachings of his that have changed my life. I think what it all came down to, why I'm proud to be a member of his generation, is that as a philosopher and anthropologist, he knew what the human person was created for and how he or she would find fulfillment; and as a pastor, he lovingly demanded that we rise to the challenge. He believed in us, as a race and as individuals. He knew that God would finish what He started in us, and he believed that the time was now. He knew we were made for greatness and wouldn't settle for anything less, especially in his own life. That is truly the Gospel lived.

Saint John Paul II, on your very first official canonized feast day, PRAY FOR US.

Make a wish

The book club decided to read "The Fault in Our Stars" this month. (Whether or not we actually discuss it during the gathering is anyone's guess.) There are countless worthy topics triggered by reading this book: facing one's mortality and leaving a legacy, friendship, the value of suffering, the importance of literature, how to care for the terminally ill. But I've been thinking about something a little different. I think I can safely say, without ruining the plot, that a major portion of the story involves one of the characters' Make-a-Wish trips.

Don't worry, I do not have a life-threatening disease, and even if I did, I'm pretty sure I'm too old to get a Wish. Still, it's an interesting question: what would you do if you could do anything?

It has to be something I couldn't do for myself. Something that requires more than just money or time, because I have both of those (although conceivably I wouldn't if I were dying). So I'll have to make the Camino happen of my own accord. No, the Wish requires a little bit of pull, some connection, some influence, some outstanding rule-bending circumstance that makes it the chance of a lifetime. I lament that I have now missed out on what would have been the two ultimate Wish experiences (for me) because I didn't get sick sooner: a private audience with Saint John Paul II, or (a distant second) a cameo in one of the Harry Potter films with at least a week on set during filming.

The problem is that as I've gotten older, I've become significantly less attached to worldly things. I'm not saying this in a prideful way, but I have no desire now to plaster my bedroom walls in autographed "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" posters or be front row at a Hanson concert (although it was surreal seeing them at The Tavern and getting high-fives from 2 out of 3). Even famous people are just people, and stuff is just stuff, and my most-cherished memories have been doing normal things with my friends and family: watching the Kristen Bell sloth video with Brandi in Scaggs, playing computer Jeopardy a hundred years ago in Hilary's basement, hearing Uncle Dave tell his crazy stories, singing the sun down at youth choir practice, going out for a drink with a friend.

So, I've now pretty much talked myself into not needing a wish. But I do not want to let you, dear reader, down, and I do not want to live a life devoid of big dreams, so I will put forth the following Wish, hoping that someday I will be able to make it happen before I'm dying of an incurable illness.

I would like to found the Saint Gianna Scholarship fund, to put young, faithful, dynamic Catholics through medical school. I will always be grateful that the great cost of medical school was not a factor in my choice of career paths, that I was able to follow where I felt the Lord was leading me without wondering how I would ever make it work. And I was disheartened by the lack of strong Catholics in medicine despite the obvious deep need. We are desperate now more than ever for compassionate care that sees each life as valuable without fearing suffering, that makes the most of God-given talents and scientific breakthroughs to protect the dignity of the human person without compromising. But it's also harder than ever for Catholics to be on the front lines, when euthanasia and abortion are legal, when IVF and the Pill are the "gold standard" against which other methods are stacked, when psychiatric care is an afterthought, when even the American Academy of Pediatrics advocates promoting birth control for all teens. Case in point. I think it's enough to make a faithful Catholic re-consider their options, especially knowing the financial implications of medical school. So my goal would be to establish a foundation that could off-set that, maybe for one person, hopefully for more. I would need a lot of help in the finer points of non-profits and scholarship management, not to mention raising the funds. Not to mention that it wouldn't begin to counter the ethical challenges or the intensity of training, but if it could get us more of the right kind of doctor, I think it would be worth it. So if any Wish-granting fairies are out there, I've made my decision.

Beauty in the city

If you're like me, you have a hard time dropping $15 to go wander the Botanic Gardens when a few extra minutes of driving can put you in the middle of equally beautiful wilderness.

Case in point #1

#2

And #3--all less than 90 min from my house

However, I have always been a fan of what I've seen of Dale Chihuly, beginning with the massive entryway sculpture at the Joslyn in Omaha. The colors and shapes are arresting, especially when you consider it's all blown glass.

Inside and Out. Photo courtesy of the Joslyn. Stunning, right?

And we just happen to have a huge collection of his outdoor work at the Botanic Gardens right now. I was chatting it over with a friend of mine, who lamented that it seems pointless to go look at all these sculptures when even more beautiful creations are all around in the flora that normally inhabits the gardens. It's true; sorry, Dale, but you can't beat the Master at His own game. Never the less, I think it is absolutely worth a visit for a few reasons.

1) Gets you outside in the beautiful Colorado fall.
2) Gives you a reason to drop the money to take in the best of creation (especially the alpine collection, the birds and bees walk, and the rose garden), and because you spent the money, you might actually stop to enjoy it, instead of passing it by like we do every day.
3) Tons of beautiful sculptures will make you feel cultured without feeling cooped up in a museum.

#nofilter (I don't really know what that means, but I've always wanted to write it)

So if you haven't yet seen the exhibit, it's worth it. And if you'd rather instead head up to the mountains to see the changing fall colors, fine by me. Bottom line, there's a lot of beauty out there to be seen. Get off the computer and go see it!

Comments on the Synod "Relatio"

The interim summary of discussions from the Synod on the Family has been released. I'm not presuming to have a firm grasp on all the nuances, or a definitive critique, but I thought I would put forward some general points and my commentary. (Disclaimer: this is long and academic, but still shorter than reading the full document, although you should do that too)

The document divides itself into 3 parts, saying that the Church must first 1) listen to the challenges for the family in the modern world, then 2) look to Christ for His revelation about the beauty and truth of the family, then 3) discuss how these two converge.

In the first part, the document examines a (non-exhaustive) list of the challenges that the Christian family faces today, cognizant of the cultural differences and economic barriers: polygamy, taxation, violence, single-parent homes, mixed-religion couples, and the emotional desires for intimacy and growth. From a pastoral standpoint, addressing these challenges "requires that the doctrine of the faith, the basic content of which should be made increasingly better known, be proposed alongside with mercy." (11)

At the beginning of part two, we encounter what I think is the major "controversy", if you will, that the media has latched onto. The document sites this "law of gradualness" referenced in JPII's Famililaris Consortio and says that this means "interpreting the nuptial covenant in terms of continuity and novelty"(13). I think many people see this as a concession that the Church needs to re-interpret things in light of today's culture. I wonder if this is even the intent of some of the bishops, despite the fact that right after this, we are reminded of Jesus' caution that while Moses gave a law of divorce because of the hardness of the Israelites' hearts, "from the beginning it was not so" (14, cf Mt 19:8). Allowances for a practice of sin are not the fullness of God's plan for us, and should be no more than a temporary stop-gap while we continue to convert those hard hearts, not a concession to the culture. This is in fact what JPII meant when he first mentioned the "law of gradualness" in his writings on the Christian family in the modern world:

[Man] knows, loves, and accomplishes moral good by stages of growth..."And so what is known as 'the law of gradualness' or step-by-step advance cannot be identified with 'gradualness of the law,' as if there were different degrees or forms of precept in God's law for different individuals and situations"... It will be easier for married people to make progress if, with respect for the Church's teaching and with trust in the grace of Christ, and with the help and support of the pastors of souls and the entire ecclesial community, they are able to discover and experience the liberating and inspiring value of the authentic love that is offered by the Gospel and set before us by the Lord's commandment.(Fam. Cons. 34, emphasis mine)

 In other words, we convert in stages, by teaching authentic love and allowing people to progress towards acceptance of the Gospel gradually, not with judgement, but with understanding. It certainly does not mean that gradually we change the Gospel to accommodate the culture's whims and individualistic hedonism. 

The current document reaffirms this further along in part two: that in difficult circumstances, "the value and consistency of natural marriage must first be emphasized"(18). Somehow the media ignores this (are you surprised?) and jumps straight to the next point. Namely, that "with regard to cohabitation, civil marriages and divorced and remarried persons,...the Church turns respectfully to those who participate in her life in an incomplete and imperfect way, appreciating the positive values they contain rather than their limitations and shortcomings"(20). Many people will see part two as a confirmation that cohabitation and civil unions are morally good, and think that the Church is finally admitting that Her teachings were behind the times. But there is a far cry from "accepting the reality" of a situation, and condoning it as morally permissible or the greatest good. Taken in context, it's clear that the Church recognizes that incomplete participation in the sacramental fullness of marriage still has some merit, insofar as it embraces the family as necessary and fruitful, but that we hope for all people to progress towards something better.

Part three starts with an exhortation to families and couples to participate in the joyful evangelization of the culture and announcement of the good news of the Church's teaching on the family. The document mentions the importance of helping young couples adequately prepare for marriage and navigate the difficult early years of marriage with support from experienced couples and the parish.

The section on separated and divorced couples starts out really beautifully, recognizing the suffering of these men, women, and especially children, and encouraging us to walk with them. The document makes clear that there is concern of alienating from the sacraments those most in need of their graces. It does support access to the Eucharist for divorced persons (45), and encourages dialogue surrounding remarried persons coming to the sacraments as well.

There are also comments on welcoming homosexual persons and their gifts into the Church and affirming the rights of children of same-sex couples. The comments regarding same-sex unions and the "precious support" of such in the lives of the couples gets dangerously close to that "gradualness of the law" in my mind and has enormous potential to be misconstrued by the media (52).

I was glad to see comments reaffirming that marriage at its heart requires an openness to life and that the social and economic realities of the world do not override this (53-55).

Ultimately, it's important to recognize that this document is merely a summary of the discussions had so far, "not decisions that have been made nor simply points of view"(58). We still have the second half of the extraordinary synod, then a year of work, then the ordinary synod to go. Overall, I think the discussions have been positive and necessary, and as usual, the media is taking its own agenda to heart. But there's really not much here that represents a change in Church teaching or doctrine.
 

There could be love

I'm re-reading "The Giver". Not only in preparation for watching the movie, but because even though I remembered the concept from 6th grade, something in me knew that I would appreciate it more now. That something was right.

There are elements of the community in the book that are startlingly real: regulating birth, euthanasia, sacrificing differences and love and choice for the sake of order, predictability, safety, and sameness. Those stand in stark contrast with the vivid memories that are passed on to Jonas--memories of pain, destruction, exhilaration, happiness, loneliness. And the Giver's favorite memory: love. Lois Lowry chose Christmas as the depiction of love--three generations of a family wrapped in the warmth of candles and a fire, gleaming tree and piles of presents.

What would I choose to pass on as a memory of love? It's a big concept, which even Jonas' father recognizes. When Jonas asks his parents, "Do you love me?" they chide him for impreciseness of language (a serious offense in their community, which is almost comical). Do they enjoy him? Certainly. Are they proud of him? Of course. But don't ask if they love him.

Such is the difficulty of choosing a memory of love. It's too big. I have memories of belonging (my final dinner party in KC--smoked pork and cookie cake and yard jenga and hugs), enjoyment (bonfire at Camp Wojtyla with Scott shouting "Victory victory!" at the top of his lungs and the drinking-song-version of "At Camp Wojtyla"), comfort (Calie holding my hand during a difficult meeting, saying volumes without saying anything), and many other facets of love, but I'm having a hard time coming up with one that encompasses it all. Maybe it says more about the vastness of love than the inadequacy of my recall. Yeah, we'll go with that. But it's interesting to ponder just the same.

Even in a society where "love" as a word and a concept is derided for its impreciseness, Jonas is able to recognize how powerful it is. He whispers in awe to the young child staying with his family, "Gabe, there could be love!"

I don't have a solid memory of it, but I know I've felt it, and I know it exists, and that's enough.