"Hunger Games" and Being Catholic

If you haven't read the "Hunger Games" trilogy, I can recommend it. It is written for teens, so it's written at a fairly simple level in terms of language, but there's a lot to discuss. It would be great to read along with your teen.

I found this article, "The Holy Cross: A real life “Mockingjay” for Catholics" interesting. If you've read the book, the allusion to the mockingjay will make sense:

To me, the idea that ties the religious significance of this story together best is the “mockingjay.” I find in the image of the mockingjay a clear and resounding symbol of the Cross of Jesus Christ. The mockingjay is described as a bird that was first used by the Capitol as a tool of oppression against the districts. It was used to spy on them during the war of rebellion, and thus was intended to be a tool to monger fear, distrust, and docility towards the power of the Capitol...

In the same way, the punishment of crucifixion was authored by the Romans as a tool to oppress the masses by instilling fear in anyone who might have thought of speaking out against them. Crucifixion was a punishment reserved for revolutionists and traitors; those who sought to overthrow Roman authority. In enduring his cross, though, Jesus was able to turn the tables, not only on the Romans, but on the devil himself. What was designed as an instrument of torture and death became, through the power of God, an instrument of salvation for the world. In passively submitting to his violent death, Jesus was able to destroy violence forever. As Christians, we venerate the cross, and display it as a reminder of this reversal, and, like the district citizens wearing the mockingjay, we confidently say that we are no longer susceptible to the snares of death, because of our solidarity with the one who is life itself.

If you've read the books, let me know what you think.

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Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

Secret Santa!!

Too old for Santa? I think not.

Yes, there are discussions as to whether we should "lie" to kids and tell them that Santa brings them gifts vs. We can't lie to the kids; it's wrong.

There is also the "Christmas is about Jesus" vs. "But Santa is magical!"

You know, we have so few magical and joyful moments, and less and less as we get older. Santa is fun. And the kids usually figure it out, and no one I know was ever scarred for life for believing that Santa brought them and every child everywhere a toy for Christmas.

It's the magic of looking up at the sky on a clear December night, thinking "I'll wait up to see Santa" and later, as you fell asleep at the window, being in your daddy's arms as he carries you to bed.

It's the magic of putting out cookies and milk (or beer, because Santa does like beer) and maybe some carrots for the reindeer, and then checking in the morning to make sure the food was all consumed.

It's…

Advent Brokenness

It was a lovely May evening, the kind we in Michigan savor like honey. After the brutal cold of winter, flowers blossomed, grass greened, mosquitoes flocked. School was almost done for the year - just the formalities of 8th grade graduation were ahead.

Why not saddle up the horse and go for a ride? Why not, indeed. So my sister and I did. I took Prince out across the road from our house, to romp through the weeds on a path my father mowed for us. The view from horseback on a spring night - well, nearly Heaven.

Until Prince bolted. He spooked. I fell. And my arm broke. Compound fracture.

My dog, a collie, had followed us out. He was not particularly trusting of Prince, as Prince would never allow himself to be herded, and this vexed my collie. My dog, channeling his inner Lassie, ran home without me.

My sister had been in the yard with her boyfriend at the time, Gary, waiting for me to come back. Instead, it was just the dog loping across the road. That didn't seem right, so my si…

Kissing the Leper

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