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Making the invisible...visible.

Friday, January 19, 2018

Improv and Theology


“Wanna hear you say yeah yeah yeah” ~Maroon 5

After years of watching Whose Line Is It, Anyway?, marveling at the talents of comedic giants like Colin Mochrie and Ryan Stiles, I stumbled across an improv club in high school freshman year. Since then, I have been practicing improv comedy for roughly fifteen years under a variety of local troupes.
When I entered seminary to study for the Roman Catholic priesthood, I feared my improv days had come to an end. On the contrary, I am constantly amazed at how the seminary has embraced the whole man that I am—including my theater gifts—and even deepened my appreciation for improv.
YES, AND:
            One of the foundational rules of improv is commonly known as “Yes, And”. It refers to receiving the idea another gives you and then adding to it.
Say I’m in a scene with Carla. She begins the scene by shouting at me, “Joey, your pants are on fire!” If I respond, “No, they’re not,” I have effectively killed the scene (and committed improv heresy). If, however, I say something like “That’s right. I lit my own pants on fire to prove my love for you,” now the scene is going somewhere. In the latter example, not only have I received Carla’s idea (YES), I also added to her idea (AND). If Carla then runs with what I introduced into the scene and adds more to it, the results could be pretty funny.   
You want to know what the mortal sin of improv is? It’s denying your teammate’s idea because you think your own idea is cooler. Failure to accept your teammate’s idea will lead to a disjointed, lame scene with two of Bryan Regan’s “Me Monsters” on stage. Good improv involves a harmonious interchange between the players of continuous giving and receiving.
Interestingly enough, the former pope, St. John Paul II (who himself had a great love for theater) writes something strikingly similar to this improv rule in regards to God, sex, and the meaning of life. For JPII, God is One and Triune, an eternal exchange of love (of giving and receiving) between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He speaks of this mystery through the analogy of sexual intercourse, not as an isolated act, but as the sum of the whole married life of a couple. In and through their bodies, the man and the woman both make a gift of self where “giving and accepting the gift interpenetrate in such a way that the very act of giving becomes acceptance, and acceptance transforms itself into giving” (TOB 17:4).
Sit back and wonder with me for a moment. What if the beautiful things in this world point to the deepest mysteries of our humanity and of God? What if there are patterns interwoven into the good things we enjoy—like art and improv—that ultimately point us to a God who is a communion of love?
Focus on the Relationship:
Which is a more interesting scene? A zombie apocalypse, or a zombie apocalypse where one of the zombies is a vegan and struggles to find acceptance among his other zombie friends? Zombie apocalypse happens in both scenes, but the latter example is more interesting because it involves relationship. Good improv focuses on the relationships of the characters to drive the scene, not just witty banter or the external events being portrayed. I like to establish a relationship early in the scene. One way to do this is by giving the other player a name: i.e. “Steve, you’re embarrassingly late to this meeting.”
Relationship matters. I’ve made some pretty big mistakes in life by putting more value in my company sales scorecard and in my accomplishments than in the people that love me freely. If I forget the relationship that matters most—the Father who loves me as his son—then I risk forgetting who I am. My work can turn into frenetic activism, or be motivated by pride instead of authentic love. Choosing to live in and out of relationship is a decision I must make every morning.
It Takes Practice:
            Whenever I tell people I have improv practice or show rehearsal, the usual response is: “Improv practice? I thought you like…make that stuff up on the spot?” It’s true that improv comedy relies on audience suggestions to form unscripted, unrehearsed scenes. Even so, improv itself is a skill that needs to be worked at. Getting comfortable with receiving and giving, remembering to focus on the relationship in a scene, these things do not come easy at first! With committed effort, however, and after a lot of failure, the improv skills start to become second nature.
            Just like how one needs to practice scenework in order to be a great improver, we too need practice in loving God and loving others. These can be fostered in concrete ways. One of the teens in my youth group decided he would stock his car with granola bars to encourage himself to be more generous to the homeless people at stoplights. Another teen has chosen to let God love her every week for one hour of prayer in front of the Blessed Sacrament.
Receive It Well:
Improv is not about being funny on command. Improv relies on receiving the gift well. Christopher West likes to say that holiness is not so much doing something, but “letting it be done unto me” (Luke 1:38). The Church honors Mary as the model and archetype of the human race because she had the courage to say YES to God’s idea AND give her whole life to him.
Jesus has given us the gift of his whole self out of love for us. Will we receive his gift? That could make for quite an exciting scene…

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Written by Joey Martineck
Director of Creative Arts, Notre Dame Seminary
Seminarian for Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Atlanta, GA



Saturday, September 3, 2016

Unhealthy Attachments


“Do you love me enough to let me go?” ~Switchfoot

Duke Nukem. 
The PC game Duke Nukem released when my brother and I were children and we thought it was the coolest video game ever. We spent countless hours fighting the giant octopuses, pigs with bulletproof vests, and other creatures in the game. But what started out as an enjoyable pastime quickly spiraled into an obsession for my little brother. On New Year’s Eve – thanks to a mixture of Mountain Dew and staying up late playing Duke Nukem – my brother began to have a panic attack, fearing that the monsters in the game would come alive and destroy our family.
That was the end of Duke Nukem in the Martineck home.
My brother’s problem was not that video games are bad. His problem was that he had an attachment to video games that was hindering his life.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus challenges his listeners to leave everything behind and follow him (Luke 14:25-33).[1] He names a bunch of things that are good, such as our fathers, mothers, spouses, children, siblings, and even our own lives, but then tells us that if we don’t hate all these things then we “cannot be his disciple[s]” (Luke 14:25-33).[2] Huh? Isn’t that kinda harsh? Does Jesus really want you to hate your Dad, or your children, or your wife? No, and if you do hate your wife, don’t pat yourself on the back, go to some marriage counseling. Jesus means that unless we are more attached to him than any person or any thing, we won’t fully be able to follow him.
So what’s your Duke Nukem right now? What is something hard for you to let go of in your life that’s getting in the way of your relationship with Jesus?
In Dante’s Inferno, the fourth circle of hell holds the greedy: those people who could not let go of their possessions.[3] Dante’s guide explains that “this rabble in the former life \ had such a mental squint, that disproportionate \ expense became their principal belief.”[4] Who were these people who could not let go of money?  Dictators? Ruthless car salesmen? Actually, Dante mentions that he sees a handful of priests in the fourth circle of hell and “the greediest are popes and cardinals.”[5] These men who started out with good intentions to follow Jesus ended up in hell because they developed worldly attachments that they refused to let go of.
It scares me a little to think that it’s possible for a priest or even a pope to go to hell. When I was young, I thought the only reason someone would want to be a priest was because it meant you got a “Go-Straight-To-Heaven” card when you died. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. But sadly, it’s just not true. Becoming a priest does not automatically mean you will forever be detached from your possessions and fully committed to following Jesus. Becoming a Christian does not automatically mean you will forever be detached from your possessions and fully committed to following Jesus. We must take care not to become like those in the Gospel who in seeking to construct a tower “began to build, [but were] not able to finish” (Luke 14:29).[6]
The cost of following Jesus is our whole life. But maybe you’re like me and have a lot of Duke Nukems that you’re tightly clutching right now. The good news is that we have a Father who wants to give us more than we even think we need.
I heard the story of a speaker at a Steubenville Atlanta Conference years ago who shared how his son found moldy mac and cheese under the sofa cushion one day and secretly began to nibble away at it. For weeks this went on and the son kept getting sick. His parents could not understand why until they found the secret stash of moldy mac and cheese that the boy was holding onto. The father said that if he only knew his son was hungry, he would have gladly made him a fresh pot of mac and cheese.
If we have strong attachments in our lives, let’s not be afraid to tell God about them in prayer. He is a good father.  He’ll give us the food we’re really hungry for and make it easy for us to drop the moldy mac and cheese we can’t seem to let go of. 

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Written by Joey Martineck
First submitted for a class at Notre Dame Seminary, New Orleans.
First posted at Beautiful Things: http://www.joeymartineck.blogspot.com/


[1] EWTN.com, Gospel for Sunday September 4th, 2016.
[2] EWTN.com.
[3] Carson, 44.
[4] Dante’s Inferno. Carson, 45.
[5] Carson, 45.
[6] EWTN.com, Gospel for Sunday September 4th, 2016.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Shame Resilience


“You’re so mean when you talk about yourself.” ~Pink

Ball.
            We’re halfway through my little league baseball game when our pitcher gets injured. The coach calls me up on the mound to take his place. With sweat on my forehead, I hurl the ball, hoping for a strike.
            Ball.
            After a couple more tosses, I walk the first batter. Everyone is watching me from the stands. Though nothing is spoken, I can hear what they’re thinking. It’s the same conversation I’m having with myself in my head. You suck. We’re going to lose the game because of you. Why can’t you do anything right?
            Ball. Ball. Ball x10...
            I can’t seem to throw a strike and walk several more batters. More embarrassingly, my arm is tired now and I struggle even to reach the catcher’s mitt. Time crawls, trapping me in the moment. I’m praying for the coach to take me out of the game, but he doesn’t. Only after the other team has racked up a good set of points do we finally catch a pop ball and ending the inning. We lost the game that day.
            And I never pitched again.
Understanding Shame:
Shame. Nobody talks about it. But if we’re honest, I’d be willing to bet that many of us have experienced some sort of shame in our lives. Perhaps you we’re affected by shame in a way similar to me on the pitcher’s mound. Or maybe for you it was different, such as feeling shame in something to do with your body, your intelligence, money, a romantic relationship, humiliation by your boss, difficulties in parenting, etc. In any case, shame overpowers us, gets inside our most sacred spaces, and demands that we keep it hidden from everyone.
Dr. Brene Brown has done groundbreaking secular research on shame and confirms what we’ve always known: the experience of shame causes us severe pain that should never be taken lightly. Brown writes that according to a 2011 study funded by the National Institute of Mental Health, “researchers found that, as far as the brain is concerned, physical pain and intense experiences of social rejection hurt in the same way” (Brown, 71). She helps us to define shame as a fear of disconnection and explains why we are continuously affected by it in the summarized points below (Brown, 68).  

  1.  Humans are wired for connection.
  2.  Authentic connection is impossible without vulnerability.
  3.  Vulnerability always leaves the door open for shame.

For Brown, the cure is not eliminating the possibility of shame – for to do that, one would have to sacrifice vulnerability (Brown, 74).  Rather, we must learn to combat shame by frequently coming back to a place of worthiness (a.k.a shame resilience). She approaches this from a secular perspective, but as Christians, we can find special significance in her work because we believe our worthiness comes from our unchanging identity as beloved sons and daughters of God. 
Seeing Another Seeing You:
            In Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, a young boy has an encounter with an enchantress who violates the dignity of his body. For many years after, he carries around a wall of anger and cold-heartedness. But his mean demeanor ultimately flows from the shame buried deep within that makes him feel like he is an unlovable beast. Only when Belle begins to see into his heart with an “interior gaze” (TOB 13:1) – where she sees all of him and is not disgusted – only then does he begin to realize his own worthiness. The Beast experiences a transforming love that frees him to be vulnerable and enter into a loving connection with another.
            Jesus sees you too. All of you. And he is not ashamed at what he sees.
Shame entered into our humanity after the fall and we have been wrestling with it ever since. We still wear the fig leaves because we are afraid to be naked, to be vulnerable. But Karol Wojtyla writes that in the nakedness of Jesus on the cross, “shame is swallowed up by love” (Love & Responsibility, 181).
I am so grateful to Dr. Brene Brown for her research that is helping me to develop the daily practice of shame resilience. I highly recommend reading her book Daring Greatly which gives us language to speak boldly about shame. Through her work and the grace of God, you and I can receive the courage needed to step back up to the pitcher’s mound. Amidst the many voices speaking shame and self-doubt in your head, have the courage to listen to the voice of the Father that says you are good enough no matter what.
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Written by Joey Martineck
First posted at Beautiful Things: http://www.joeymartineck.blogspot.com/

References:

Brene Brown, Ph.D., LMSW. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead: Penguin Group (New York, 2012).

John Paul II, Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of the Body, Pauline Books, Boston. cf TOB

Karol Wojtyla, Love and Responsibility, Ignatius Press (1960).


Graphic borrowed from: http://www.hypable.com/beauty-and-the-beast-2017-trailer-release-date/

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Being Patient With Yourself


"And breathe,.. just breathe." ~Anna Nalick

       I wanted to punch him in the face.
            Here we are climbing the most challenging mountain I have ever attempted, and my college friend Paul has the nerve to start obnoxiously singing.
            This is no ordinary mountain we are talking about. This is Cerro Negro, one of the great volcanos of Nicaragua. It is completely covered in black ash, heated by the blazing sun. And this volcano was kicking my butt.
At first glance, the volcano may not look too bad.  But when you actually start to climb it (on all fours), you quickly learn that the ash makes it difficult to get any traction.  If you crawl three steps up, you’ll slide back down two steps.  After the first half hour of climbing, I assumed we must have made some good progress. However, when I looked down, I saw that we had barely moved a few yards up the mountain. 
            How long was this going to take?
            Now, there have been many times I’ve been hiking with friends and enjoyed singing a Disney show tune or something like “Hey now, you’re an all-star” through the woods.  But when you’re on all fours struggling to climb a volcano of hot ash, in 100+ degree weather, feeling like you’re going to die, singing is the last thing I care about.  Which is why I was so angry with Paul when he starting singing not Disney, but chanted prayers up the volcano (btw, Paul’s kinda religious).
            “What are you doing?” I said to him.
            “It helps,” Paul said. “Try it. Pray while you climb; it helps.”
            I’m not in the mood, Paul.
            I went back to climbing.  Three steps up and I slid back down.  Three more steps and I slid back down again. I wasn’t going anywhere!
            I got so frustrated I decided to gather all my energy and bolt as fast as I could up the mountain, leaving the singing fool in the dust.  For a half second, it looked like it might work.  Then all of my strength evaporated, and I slid down farther back from where I began. 
            Well, that was stupid. 
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            Have you ever felt like sometimes when you try to take a step forward you end up sliding right back to where you started? In our lives, we can get frustrated when we perceive we are making little progress.  But the good news is that Jesus is with us on the mountain, and he is saying, “Don’t beat yourself up. Pray. We’ll get there.”  Rather than despairing about how far we are from the top, Jesus encourages us to be patient with ourselves and focus just on the next three steps.    
            Our progress meter is not the same as Jesus’.  He measures with a different measure (Matt 7:2). We often put expectations on ourselves that God never meant for us to carry. Sometimes, we are harder on ourselves for “not getting our act together fast enough” than we would ever be toward a person we love (Brown, 2012). We must practice patience with ourselves and put our faith in God: His timing and His progress in us.         St. Paul writes, “For we have been saved by hope.  But a hope which is seen is not hope. For when a man sees something, why would he hope? But since we hope for what we do not see, we wait with patience” (Rom 8:24-25).
            After my failure, I decided to listen to my friend. I crawled three steps and stopped to take a quick breath, praying quietly all the while. Then I repeated the cycle again.  It actually did help to take my mind off the volcano. When the ash caused me to slide down, I didn’t get angry but accepted it as part of the process.
Eventually, to my great relief, we reached the top. My friend and I laughed together as we gazed across the landscape from on high. I will always remember that as one of the greatest moments of my life.
            Go figure.  The singing volcano climber was right about something.
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Written by Joey Martineck
First posted at Beautiful Things: http://www.joeymartineck.blogspot.com/
Names changed for privacy.
Brene Brown, Ph.D., LMSW. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead: Penguin Group (New York, 2012), 75.


Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Running Away from God



I so hate consequences; running from you is what my best defense is.” ~Relient K


             At 10:30 PM when I left St. Louis, the snow was already starting to fall.  I drove as fast as I could on I-70E, trying to get home to Indianapolis before the big blizzard hit.  The storm was trailing closely behind me.  I kept trying not to think of how bad it would be if my tiny Honda Civic got stuck in the middle of Effingham.  Just when I thought I was going to make it – less than an hour away from my apartment – the blizzard came down hard.  I was forced to roll sluggishly the remainder of the way home.  Sometime after 3:30 AM, I finally arrived...exhausted. 
I could have waited.  I could have stayed in St. Louis and avoided battling the storm.  So you might ask: why would anyone make such a crazy trip?
Because I was running away from God. 
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Okay, let me give you a little more backstory.  I went to St. Louis in the first place to see some friends, but also to get away for a while.  During that time in my life, many good things were happening.  I had great friends, a nice apartment, and an esteemed sales job with one of the top Fortune 500 companies.  But the truth is: I was deeply unhappy.  I wanted more for my life, but I kept telling myself that things would get better if I just got married or if I got a different job.  In the couple months prior, however, the idea of priesthood started surfacing in my mind like never before. 
And it scared the pants off me.
I arrived early in St. Louis so that I could visit the Cathedral Basilica.  The beauty of the church touched my heart.  I stayed there for Mass and a young deacon gave an inspiring homily.  After Mass, I went to the front of the altar and lay down prostrate with all my concerns.  I rededicate my life to you, Lord, I prayed.  Show me what you want for me.
I left the church and went to the restaurant to meet up with my friends.  We had a great time laughing and telling stories.  They had informed me that their friend Carlos would also be joining us.  That was no problem with me – until Carlos actually showed up.  To my disbelief, Carlos was the deacon who I had just heard preaching at Mass.  And as it turns out, he was also a seminarian, only a few months away from being ordained to the Catholic Priesthood. 
I don’t know how he did it, but Deacon Carlos saw right through me that night.  I could sense that he somehow knew my confusion and pain even more than my friends could grasp.  He shared his story about what led him to the priesthood.  Every word out of his mouth seemed to speak to all my fears and insecurities.  What bothered me the most though was that this dude was happy.  He was genuinely happy!  How was that possible?  A celibate man (how unnatural!), sworn to a life of service is happier than me, a wealthy bachelor with complete autonomy?       
When I saw on the weather radar that the storm was approaching, I announced that I had to leave.  My friends worried about me making such a dangerous trip back.  Then Deacon Carlos said, “You know, you are welcome to stay the night at the seminary if you like?”  In my mind, I screamed: NEVER!!!  I promptly bolted out of there after some quick goodbyes and began my arduous trek home.
In the wee hours of the morning, when I finally laid in my bed, I sighed deeply and asked myself:
What am I running from?
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Have you ever been like me and tried to run away from God?  Maybe for you it isn’t the call to seminary; maybe it’s a call to a relationship, a ministry, or to intimacy with God in prayer.  Sometimes it’s okay for us to wrestle with God.  Jacob wrestled with God from evening until dawn and afterward his name was changed (Gen 32:24-28).  God gives us the freedom to wrestle with him because he loves us, but when we finally give up the fight, we are changed for the better.  Surrender can be challenging though...even for two-year old princesses.
A couple years back, I was at my goddaughter’s princess birthday party.  All her neighborhood baby friends were there, including little Emily.  For some reason, all Emily wanted to do that day was run toward the basement stairs and hurl herself down headlong.  Therefore, I was put in charge of making sure little Emily stayed in the play area in the family room.  Little Emily made numerous attempts to run to the stairs, but I gently stopped her each time.  She put up this fight for at least an hour until one last time she ran over to me.  I picked her up to prevent her from going to the stairs like I had been doing.  But this time, her head slumped on my neck and she rested in my arms.  Little Emily was done fighting.  For the rest of the party, she just let me hold her.   
When we surrender to God, we are not giving in to a tyrant who wants to Lord over us.  Instead, we are allowing ourselves to be held by our Father who loves us.  He delights in caring for us and only “gives good gifts to his children” (Matt 7:11).  Whether or not I am called to be a priest, I am so grateful to God for sending Deacon Carlos to me that night and for bringing me to seminary.  It is a daily surrender for me – and for all of us – to receive God’s provision and stay in the arms of our Father.
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Written by Joey Martineck
First posted at Beautiful Things: http://www.joeymartineck.blogspot.com/
Names changed for privacy.
Graphic: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2869606/Brrrrace-Weather-bomb-brings-ice-10cm-SNOW-temperatures-drop-3C-torrential-downpours-hit-southern-England.html

Monday, February 22, 2016

Male Vulnerability


“Brother, let me be your shelter!"  ~NEEDTOBREATHE

Vulnerability.  
It’s a struggle for me.  It’s a struggle for every man.  We like to put our strengths on display and conceal our weaknesses.  Sadly, it’s possible for us to know a man for years – to see him every day at the office or every weekend at church – without ever having a meaningful conversation with him.  We stay at the surface because it feels safe.  But from my own experience, I can testify that we were made for more than only pragmatic, surface level conversations. 

Time for some Honesty:
When I worked in sales, my life appeared successful on the outside.  Inside though, I felt dead.  My accomplishments were my way of coping with a deep insecurity I had carried within me since I was a kid.  Eventually during my career, I reached a place of vulnerability where I experienced brothers in Christ loving me in my weakness.  That moment changed my life dramatically.  But it only happened because I was willing to look honestly at my problems.
Are you in touch with your weakness?  Or are you numb like I was for so long?  In his book Wild at Heart, John Eldredge says that “a wound unfelt is a wound [that remains] unhealed.”  The crisis of male vulnerability today is not an accident.  It stems from the insecurities we have as men.  It comes from the way we have tried to cope with deep hurts in our life.  In my hurts, I relied on myself and other’s opinions of me rather than the Father who loves me as I am.  But we end up deceiving ourselves when we ignore our pain.  The Lord encourages us to “not be afraid” to make the first step toward vulnerability: looking honestly at our brokenness (Isah 41:10).

Exposing the Wounds:
I was at a men’s retreat in Tiger, GA a few years back.  On the retreat were some of the top Catholic ministry leaders across the country.  After brief introductions, the MC opened the retreat with this comment.
“My name is Jack*, and I am a failure of a husband, father, and Catholic.”
I was absolutely shocked.  Never before had I experienced grown men being so genuinely open about their weaknesses.  They echoed the words of St. Paul where he says, “I willingly boast about my weakness, that the power of Christ might be perfected in me” (2 Cor 12:9).  The men on that retreat and St. Paul were unafraid to openly talk about their weaknesses because they had something in common: they had exposed their wounds to Jesus Christ.  


Doubting God’s goodness, we often try to hide our pain from him.  Adam’s first reaction after eating the apple was to hide, but the Father still sought him out in love (Gen 3:9).  Prayer stops becoming lifeless repetition for us when we actually start exposing our wounds to Jesus.  Because in Jesus Christ, we find a man who is not afraid to expose his wounds to us.  After the resurrection, Jesus came to Thomas and said, “Put your hand in my side and believe” (John 20:27).  In Jesus, we do not find an impersonal God who doesn’t care about our pain, but a man who “is able to sympathize with our weakness” (Heb 4:15).  When we experience Jesus loving us at our worst, we no longer need to hide our insecurities and receive the freedom to be vulnerable.
           
True Brotherhood:
The fruit of vulnerability – guided by prudence – is true brotherhood.  Think of the friendship of Frodo and Sam from The Lord of the Rings.  These two men (hobbits actually) spent a lot of time together in the safe home of their Shire.  But vulnerability really begins for Frodo and Sam once they step out of their hobbit holes on a journey to save the world.  They talk along the way about their hopes and dreams, about their disappointments and failures.  They bear each other’s burdens.  We see clearly how just as “iron sharpens iron, man sharpens man” (Prov 27:17).  As the story plays out, it is not strength and power that saves the world, but true brotherhood.
What an utter travesty it is that we have reduced our concept of intimacy to mere sexual expression.  No wonder we as men often feel so empty and alone.  The Book of James guides us toward true brotherhood by saying, “Confess your sins to one another that you may find healing” (Jam 5:16).  Of course, this applies to the great gift of the Sacrament of Reconciliation for us Catholics.  But I believe this is also an encouragement for us to be vulnerable.  St. Augustine courageously shows us the way to do this in his book The Confessions.  There, he reveals the good, bad, and ugly of his life and where God was working the whole time.  
Under St. Augustine’s patronage, I have been involved in several small groups where men intentionally share their lives with each other.  In these meetings, I have seen conversion take place, healing occur, vocations develop, and lasting friendships form.  The enemy tries to make us believe that we are alone.  By sharing our struggles, we fulfill the scripture in Revelation that says, “For the accuser of our brothers has been cast out, who accuses them day and night before our God.  And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony” (Rev 12:10-11). 

The Courageous Step toward Vulnerability
If you are not currently in a men’s group, have you sought one out in your community?  Any form of a men’s group is good: a bible study, Knights of Columbus, etc.  However, I particularly encourage support groups like Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP), Cursillo, That Man is You (TMIY), or some other small group model with intentional sharing.  If this is not available in your church/community, I challenge you to start one.  Seriously!  It only takes one man to step out and say “I struggle” to give other men the freedom to be vulnerable too. 
You were not made for isolation; you were made for communion.  May you have the courage to make a concrete step toward vulnerability in whatever way that looks like in your life right now.  Do not be afraid to expose your wounds to Jesus who knows our pain and always seeks to find us. 

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Written by Joey Martineck
Beautiful Things
Bibliography:
*Name substituted for privacy.
John Eldredge.  Wild at Heart. (Thomas Nelson: Nashville, Tennesee). 2010.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Poodles have Souls???
           

     Children sometimes have a way of making you feel stupid.  Once I was giving a presentation at a middle school and made a comment that we humans are special because man is the only creature with a body-soul composite.  Immediately, a little sixth grader's hand shot up.  “That’s not true!” he said.  “Dogs have souls!  Pope Francis said dogs have souls!”  The teacher quieted the student because he interrupted my presentation.  But I later learned that the boy was actually right.
            And I was wrong.
            How can this be?  Where does this idea that dogs have souls come from?  To answer that, we first need to understand the concept of hylomorphism by Thomas AquinasDon’t be scared if this is a new word for you.  Put simply, hylomorphism states that the world is filled with different things.  Aquinas referred to these things as “substances.”  For example, gold is a substance.  Each substance is composed of two principles: form and matter.[1]  The form is what gives the matter shape, existence, and powers.  Neither principle is a thing on its own.  The form is not a thing.  Only by coexisting together do form and matter make up a thing (substance).
            Okay, so if the world is filled with substances, then what are living beings?  Aquinas explains living beings as ensouled things (substances).  Under this definition, not only do humans have souls but animals and plants as well.  The soul is simply the form of the body.  Like all forms, the soul gives the body shape, existence, and powers.  Religion is not necessary to define the soul in this sense, but only a biological understanding of what is meant by a living being.   
Plants, animals, and humans all have souls.  But is a flower soul the same as a poodle soul?  Or is a hamster soul the same as your teacher’s soul?  No, experience shows that not every soul (form) is the same.  We see evidence of this by observing the differences in the powers the souls enable.  Like plants, humans have vegetative powers to act materially on a material object.  I mean that by direct contact, we can achieve nutrition, growth, and reproduction.  For example, I can eat an apple pie and assimilate it into my body.  However, human beings are different from plants because we possess sensitive powers that allow us to attain an immaterial awareness of a material object by a material organ.  For example, I can smell the apple pie outside of direct contact with it and intuit that it is instinctively good.  Animals have these same sensitive powers. 
We can’t stop there though.  Human beings differ from animals in that we are rational.  We are able to gain an immaterial awareness of an immaterial object by an immaterial power: the intellect.  For example, I smell the apple pie and reason that my mother spent hours making it for Thanksgiving dinner and therefore I should hold my appetite.  My understanding of the pie is not just that it is “good” but that it contains certain ingredients and has special value to my family.  By observing reality as it is, man is able to understand universal concepts and abstract the form from the matter of things.  The notion of our immortality, our free will, and more come from the fact that as a rational being, man transcends physical laws because our intellect is immaterial.
I’m grateful to that smart little kid for challenging me.  I was wrong.  But I was comforted to know that people much smarter than me have spent a long time thinking about these big questions.  The Catholic faith is in no way opposed to reason and scrutiny.  So if you have questions, good.  Seek and you shall find.  

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Written by Joey Martineck
Beautiful Things
Bibliography:
This post was pulled from a paper in Fall 2015 Human Nature class taught by Dr. James Jacobs at Notre Dame Seminary New Orleans, LA.  Ideas discussed came primarily from class notes.
1.      Jose Lombo and Francesco Russo, Philosophical Anthropology: An Introduction (Midwest Theological Forum: Downers Grove, Illinois).



[1] Jose Lombo and Francesco Russo, Philosophical Anthropology: An Introduction (Midwest Theological Forum: Downers Grove, Illinois), 19.