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When the Holy Spirit fills us in the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation, he does not remain inactive. He fills us with his seven gifts, which guide us throughout our individual lives according to God’s plan.

  • With wisdom, the Spirit gives us the power to see God acting in our everyday lives.
  • Understanding gives us the ability to grasp with greater clarity the riches of the Faith.
  • Counsel points us down the path of holiness and helps us discern the will of God for us.
  • The gift of fortitude gives us the strength we need to follow the path God leads us down.
  • Knowledge is the gift that helps us judge which created things lead us toward God, and which created things lead us away from God.
  • Through piety we are given the desire to love God as true children.
  • And the fear of the Lord compels us to flee sin and temptation because we do not want to sadden God our Father.

 

 

    Reboot

    Reboot — it’s not just a Hollywood term. (Though I have to say that I loved the reboot of Star Trek.)

    I hope to be back to posting regularly soon. And — yes — I’ll fill you in on what I’ve been doing. But right now I’m in the process of condensing my categories into something more manageable and of putting tags on each of my posts. 

    And the theme is going to change. Something a lot different. It’ll be much simpler, not nearly as flashy, and more text focused.

    Where I’ve Been

    This blog has quickly slid into silence, hasn’t it? There are several reasons for it.

    The first two are connected. As I noted at the beginning of the year, I’ve made 2009 the Year I Get Serious About Writing. What I didn’t say back then was that after thinking it over a bit, I decided to make it the Year I Get Serious About Writing Fiction. Now, if you’ve read this blog back when I was posting regularly, you’ll recall that I said something about not writing fiction, and not even reading fiction, and something about believing this was God’s will for me. Thus, the question: What made me change my mind?

    A lot of small things, really: several conversations, a few articles I read, thinking about my life in both a general and a specific way. What I finally concluded was that I was using the “will of God” as a pretext for giving up writing fiction. I was tired of failing; I was afraid of failing. But if God didn’t want me to write fiction, then I no longer had to fear it. Sneaky of me, eh?

    Once I realized this, I thought about it, prayed about it, talked to my wife about it, and decided that I needed to give fiction one last shot in 2009. I set up some pretty wild goals — (I’m keeping them to myself right now, sorry) — and if I meet all of them by the end of the year, I’d continue in 2010. Conversely, if I didn’t meet these goals, I’d give fiction up . . . putting it behind my back, never to return to it again.

    That’s the first reason why I haven’t been around here much. Here’s the second.

    I was asked to take over the RCIA class at my parish. Without a doubt, this is a dream come true, a prayer answered. But it also means that much of the energy I used to write this blog and make the “Jesus and the Catholic Church Podcast” is now being used to teach RCIA — as well as Confirmation and a monthly Baptism class.

    One thing I’ve learned during my short life is that I have energy to be a rather productive farmhand, so long as I’m not plowing in the same field. To change the metaphor: burn out happens not because there is too much on my plate, but because there is too much of the same stuff of my plate. I get tired of the monotony. So even if I wasn’t writing a novel, given the fact that I’m teaching RCIA, Confirmation, and a Baptism class, I wouldn’t be writing this blog or making the Jesus and the Catholic Church Podcast. Let’s remember, folks, that this isn’t a typical blog. That is, this blog was dedicated to teaching; I didn’t engage in news, current events, or entertainment. Since all my teaching energy is being used up elsewhere (in the aforementioned ways, as well as homeschooling my kids), I have nothing left to give here. 

    Which leads me to another question: What am I going to do with this blog?

    For now, nothing. But I do have some plans that I’m willing to share with you.

    1. In terms of actual writing, don’t expect anything else from this blog. I might update from time to time, but I doubt I’ll ever post on a regular basis. I’m deeply sorry about that, but it is what it is.

    2. This also means that, beginning today, comments are off.

    3. If you follow the Jesus and the Catholic Church Podcast, that is no more, either. That takes even more time than this blog . . . and time has always been an issue. 

    4. Eventually — probably this summer, when I’m not teaching at my parish and therefore have more teaching energy — I plan to produce a series of catechetical podcasts for my RCIA class. This podcast will be about 30 episodes, and it will cover the basics of the faith: doctrine, sacraments, morality, and prayer.

    5. When these podcasts are ready to be published, I plan to completely overhaul this site. The URL of this place is, if you don’t know, “catholic-teaching.org.” Since this new podcast will be focused on basic Catholic teaching, I plan to use this URL rather than another. And when this finally happens (again, we’re talking about the summer . . . maybe even late summer, August or September), all the written content of this blog will go away. It will be for the podcast only.

    From Zenit.org:

    Fasting is as important as ever and it is a “therapy” to heal obstacles to conforming to God’s will, says Benedict XVI.

    The Pope affirmed this is a message for Lent, dated Dec. 11 and relea sed today. Ash Wednesday this year is Feb. 25.

    The Holy Father recalled that the liturgy proposes three specific practices during Lent: prayer, almsgiving and fasting. And he said that his message this year would focus on the history and importance of fasting.

    The Pontiff noted how fasting was prominent in both the Old and New Testaments: “Like Moses, who fasted before receiving the tablets of the Law and Elijah’s fast before meeting the Lord on Mount Horeb, Jesus, too, through prayer and fasting, prepared himself for the mission that lay before him, marked at the start by a serious battle with the tempter.”

    Benedict XVI went on to acknowledge that the meaning of fasting — “depriving ourselves of something that in itself is good and useful for our bodily sustenance” — might not be immediately clear.

    But he explained that “sacred Scriptures and the entire Christian tradition teach that fasting is a great help to avoid sin and all that leads to it. For this reason, the history of salvation is replete with occasions that invite fasting. […] “

    “Since all of us are weighed down by sin and its consequences, fasting is proposed to us as an instrument to restore friendship with God.”

    Jesus’ teaching

    A deeper meaning for fasting is revealed by Christ, the Pope explained.

    “True fasting […] is rather to do the will of the Heavenly Father, who ’sees in secret, and will reward you,’” the papal message notes. “[Christ] himself sets the example, answering Satan, at the end of the 40 days spent in the desert that ‘man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’ The true fast is thus directed to eating the ‘true food,’ which is to do the Father’s will. [T]he believer, through fasting, intends to submit himself humbly to God, trusting in his goodness and mercy.”

    The first Christian communities and the fathers of the Church also point to the importance of fasting, the Holy Father continued.

    “Moreover,” he said, “fasting is a practice that is encountered frequently and recommended by the saints of every age.”

    A rediscovery

    Nevertheless, the Pontiff observed, “fasting seems to have lost something of its spiritual meaning, and has taken on, in a culture characterized by the search for material well-being, a therapeutic value for the care of one’s body. Fasting certainly brings benefits to physical well-being, but for believers, it is, in the first place, a ‘therapy’ to heal all that prevents them from conformity to the will of God.”

    Recalling a 1966 document written by Pope Paul VI, “Pænitemini,” Benedict XVI said that this Lent could be a “propitious time to present again the norms contained in the apostolic constitution, so that the authentic and perennial significance of this long held practice may be rediscovered, and thus assist us to mortify our egoism and open our heart to love of God and neighbor.”

    Finally, in addition to the personal benefits of fasting, the Holy Father said, the penance also helps to foster solidarity.

    “Voluntary fasting enables us to grow in the spirit of the Good Samaritan, who bends low and goes to the help of his suffering brother,” he said. “By freely embracing an act of self-denial for the sake of another, we make a statement that our brother or sister in need is not a stranger.”

    “From what I have said thus far,” the Bishop of Rome affirmed, “it seems abundantly clear that fasting represents an important ascetical practice, a spiritual arm to do battle against every possible disordered attachment to ourselves.”

    — — —

    On the Net:

    Full text of Lenten message: www.zenit.org/article-24990?l=english

    Paul VI’s “Pænitemini”: www.vatican.va/holy_father/paul_vi/apost_constitutions/documents/hf_p-vi_apc_19660217_paenitemini_en.html

    What’s profoundly important here is that fasting does not have a physical end, but, rather, a spiritual end: the avoidance of sin, conformity to God’s will, mortification of our ego, charity toward God and neighbor.

    How is this possible?

    Fasting is like lifting weights. It’s easy to lift five pounds, but fifty pounds is more difficult. So you work out until fifty pounds is easy, then you set your sights on 100 pounds.

    In the spiritual life, it’s easy to be patient when things are going your way. It’s more difficult when they’re not. So you fast, and then you find that being patient while being hungry is difficult. But you eventually learn how to look past yourself toward the other, despite your hunger. Over time, you’ll have grown in the virtue of patience.

    Thus, fasting should be seen as a training ground for virtue and doing good.

    From In Conversation with God, Volume 3:

    [Christ] chooses us where we are, and leaves us — the majority of Christians, lay people — just where we were: in our family, in our own job, in the cultural or sports association that we belong to . . . so that in the very environment in which we are found we should love him and make him known through family ties, through relationships at work and among friends. From the moment that we decide to make Christ the center of our lives, everything we do is affected by that decision. We must ask ourselves whether we are consistent with what it means to turn our work into a vehicle for growing in friendship with Jesus Christ, through developing our human and supernatural virtues in it.

    Ideas like these are what attract me to Opus Dei spirituality. Christ doesn’t call us to live apart from others, just to live differently. And what does that mean? To be a better friend, a harder worker, a more loving spouse, and more self-giving parent. 

    But it’s not as serious as all that. Being a good friend means taking time to spend with one’s friends — even if that means watching a B-movie. Working harder doesn’t mean doing more, but, rather, doing what needs to be done with more focus. Becoming a more loving spouse may mean taking some extra minutes to clean the bathroom sink, and letting your kids picking the Friday-night movie may be a way of being a little more self-giving. Little things go a long way to holiness primarily because they’re little: They don’t attract the eyes of others, only the eyes of God. 

    From the First Things website…

    Fr. Richard John Neuhaus slipped away today, January 8, shortly before 10 o’clock, at the age of seventy-two. He never recovered from the weakness that sent him to the hospital the day after Christmas, caused by a series of side effects from the cancer he was suffering. He lost consciousness Tuesday evening after a collapse in his heart rate, and the next day, in the company of friends, he died. Read more …

    From Fr. Alban Goodier’s Spiritual Excellence:

    …We should be confident that no good deed we ever do is wasted. It is true we may fail in our immediate object; we may not always gain the good effect we intended. We may work for a conversion, and our friend may die without any sign of having once ever given the matter a thought. We may give alms and find we have only been encouraging a wastrel. We may labor to exhaustion in teaching a child, and the child may turn out nothing but a shame to his instructors.

    Still, none of these covers the whole matter. A good deed done is like a stone that is dropped in deep water; the circles of waves continue to move out from that center, on and on, long after the stone has settled at the bottom.

    2009

    The week off was great. I thought and I prayed and I received guidance form the most unlikely sources. I’ll spare you the details of the journey and just share the two basic conclusions I’ve reached.

    1. Posting here is going to be sparse for a while. There are three reasons for this. One — I don’t have much to say about much of anything right now. Two — I’ve decided to make 2009 the Year I Become Serious About Writing. And three — I’m still thinking about the direction I want to take this blog.

    2. The Jesus and the Catholic Church Podcast will enter an extended hiatus. What it comes down to is time. I estimate it takes about 7 hours of work to make a 30-minute podcast. That is far, far, far more time than I ever expected. Also, I don’t particularly like podcasting — which makes it all the more difficult. But I’m not sure I want to give it up just yet. I have some ideas for how to keep it going but I’m no ready to say anything just yet.

    It’s been a good six months. This Apostolate has taken off to a much better start than I either hoped or expected. I’ve written a lot since July: averaging 555 words a day, I’ve written over 100,000 words, which is the length of a standard novel. Based on the number of hits as well as reader feedback, here are some of the posts that I think would qualify as the best of 2008. Happy reading!

    Merry Christmas

    If we think about Christian morality in terms of rules and laws, we think about it incorrectly. Christian morality’s key term is “restoration.” Christ came to restore us, to heal us, and to raise us to a new level.

    Thus original sin is one of the cornerstone doctrines of Catholic morality. If we don’t believe we’ve been infected by sin’s poison, then it’s hard, if not impossible, to believe we need healing and restoration.

    So what is original sin?

    When God created our first parents, he gave them blessings on three levels. He gave them the supernatural blessing of sanctifying grace, or friendship with Himself; he gave them the preternatural (or superhuman) blessings of integrity and immortality; and he gave them the natural blessings of an enlightened intellect and strong will. These were gifts from God, grace he gave them.

    We call Adam and Eve’s sin a fall. What did they fall from? They fell from God’s grace. They lost the gifts God had given them: intimate friendship with him, integrity, immortality, an enlightened intellect, and a strong will. They were left with un-graced human nature — powerless to know, love, and serve God.

    Through baptism, we are cleansed from the stain of original sin. Sanctifying grace is restored to our souls; we are given faith, hope, and love — the virtues necessary to know and seek God with our whole being. We are even given the seed of eternal life, as Scripture calls it, which will fully blossom in the age to come. Integrity is not restored. What’s integrity?

    Integrity is the word the Church uses to speak of the harmony between our mind and our bodies, between our reason and our passions. Adam and Eve enjoyed possessed integrity. If they wanted to fast, their bodies did not revolt and crave food. 

    We, on the other hand, have a lack of integrity. Our intellects and bodies are at odds with one another. My mind says, “Time to pray,” and my body says, “Time to sleep.” My reason says, “Be chaste,” but my passions says, “Look at her legs!”

    Why did God not restore our integrity?

    For two reasons, I think. First, because he wants us to be humble — he wants us to remember that we are creatures dependent upon his goodness, mercy, and love. If we didn’t have to wage this moral war, we’d quickly forget about him. 

    The second reason flows from the first. In his infinite wisdom, just as God made the Christ’s the source of salvation, he made our lack of integrity our road to holiness.  “You cannot be my disciple,” Jesus tells us, “unless you pick up your cross.” What is our cross? Ourselves — our faults, our failings, our weaknesses. These are the things we must fight — daily, weekly, monthly, yearly — with great patience. 

    We can’t do follow this road without God’s grace. We receive his grace through the sacraments, which give us the spiritual strength to wage the Christian battle, but we still have to fight. God gives us the power to act, but we must act. It is difficult to act if we don’t know how to act. It’s like giving a man a car without teaching him how to use it. 

    This is where the Church’s moral teachings fit into the spiritual life. They tell us how to act, and thereby tell us which battles we need to wage. The moral teachings are a standard of living — a standard that raises us up to God. This is why the Catechism begins its section on morality with the following: 

    Christian, recognize your dignity and, now that you share in God’s own nature, do not return to your former base condition by sinning. Remember who is your head and of whose body you are a member. Never forget that you have been rescued from the power of darkness and brought into the light of the Kingdom of God (no. 1691).

    Thus the Church’s moral teachings don’t give us an abstract ethic rooted in idealist “oughts” and “ought nots.” Nor is the Church’s moral teaching “traditional” in the sense that it’s the collective human wisdom from which we should not deviate. 

    No, the Church’s moral teachings tell us what it means to become like God. Through his passion and death, Christ restored us; he healed us; he saved us. Through baptism and the other sacraments, these realities were and are communicated to us. The Church’s morality teaches us how to preserve the great gift we’ve been given. It teaches us how to live according to the dignity of God’s children.

    No new episode today, unfortunately, but I will have one up next Sunday. In the meantime, I want to re-introduce the podcast to you.

    For those who do not listen to the podcast . . . 

    The Jesus and the Catholic Church Podcast is a podcast that follows the life of Christ as outlined by St. Ignatius of Loyola (more or less) in the Spiritual Exercises and uses the Catechism of the Catholic Church as the primary interpretive guide for understanding the Gospels. The goal is to present the true identity of Christ by emphasizing his transcendent divinity, his real historical humanity, the integrity of his message, and his sacrificial death that dominates his life and doctrine, as it is understood by the Church he established.

    Previous episodes treat John 1 (In the beginning was the Word . . . and the Word became Flesh) and Luke 1.26-38 (the Annunciation to Mary). Topics we’ve discussed include the following:

    • Jesus Christ’s eternal pre-existence.
    • That Jesus is the only one who can reveal the Father.
    • The full meaning of the Incarnation of the Son of God.
    • The good angels.
    • The Trinity.
    • Mary’s divine motherhood and fullness of grace.
    • Salvation history and the establishment of the Church.
    • The virginal conception and Mary’s vow of virginity.

    You can listen to the individual episodes right from the webpage. There is no need to have an iPod or MP3 player. You can also download them from the webpage; no need to sign up with iTune or Podcast Alley. But if you want, you can also subscribe to the podcast from various podcast outlet. I do my best to keep each episode around 30 minutes.

    I hope you take some time to hop on over to the website and listen to an episode or two. Who knows, you might light it.

    And for those of you who have been listening, here’s what I have planned for the next couple of months:

    • The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth
    • The Birth of Jesus
    • The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple
    • The Flight into Egypt
    • Nazareth and the Hidden Life of the Holy Family
    • The Finding of Jesus in the Temple

    After that, we’ll enter into the the ministry of Christ, beginning with his baptism by John. It’s a lot of work, but I’m looking forward to it.

    In the previous post entitled, “How to Practice Poverty Today,” Perry left the following comment:

    I too struggle with this beatitude.  Part of my problem stems from trying to understand “poverty of spirit”.  I’m always asking myself the questions: Do I try to increase my income for my family or just make what I have reach?  If I earn more and give away more is that better?  I’ve often considered spending time reading, studying and praying about this subject trying to determine how I am to live this out in my own life.

    Reading, studying, and praying about how to live the first beatitude is certainly the first step toward living it. For my money and time, the best place to start is with Fr. Thomas Dubay’s Happy Are You Poor: The Simple Life and Spiritual Freedom

    Fr. Dubay’s thesis is this: Gospel poverty means living a sparing and sharing lifestyle.

    It’s a challenging book — one of the most challenging books I’ve read. I can’t say that I’ve applied any of it’s principles in my own life. One problem is where I live. Relative to the lifestyle of most of the people around me, I live a pretty simple life. Another problem is that I don’t have extravagant desires. I don’t want a Lexus, a Rolex, or designer clothes. The vast majority of money I spend on me (rather than on my kids, or on household items) I spend on books. The most extravagant personal desire I’ve had in a long time is a MacBook — which isn’t all that extravagant, relatively speaking. So in a way I live a sparing lifestyle — at least compared to those around me. 

    This is true of my family also. Though my wife has a well-paying job and we live a more-or-less upper-middle-class lifestyle, we’re not rich. But we don’t have cable by choice, don’t have the top of the market Internet service, and don’t spend a lot on entertainment. We’re fairly frugal with our money by nature, and we do have four kids, and we’d like to send them to a solid Catholic university. So the question is: Could we be sharing more?

    A friend tells me that it’s almost impossible for one to answer these question about oneself — especially if one is married and has a few kids. We’re too close to the way we live, particularly if we’re already life a relatively simple life. We need spiritual guidance in this area. I think he’s right.

    I read Fr. Dubay’s book about a year ago, and the one conclusion I have come to is this: Though it might be difficult — if not entirely prudent — to try to live a simpler life on the objective level, I can try to live a simpler live on the subjective level. Here’s what I mean.

    Given I have four kids, a mortgage, a house to maintain, homeschooling expenses, etc., I’m not sure how I can simplify the objective part of my life. Nor am I sure how I can be more sharing with my money.

    However, I can do things on the subjective level. Do I really need that book right now? Could I pass on grabbing a bite out and wait till I get home? Could I take better care of my clothes so they don’t wear out as fast? Could I cut back on how much I eat? These are fundamental questions that challenge me (and not my family) to live a spirit of poverty. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve succeeded all that well.

    I’d love to hear your ideas on this rather troubling aspect of the Christian life.

    From Fr. John Hardon’s “Poverty in the Modern World”:

    Certainly, the Gospels were meant to be lived not only in first century Palestine, but in twentieth century North America. The crucial question is how. The following are some directives. While referring directly to poverty, their underlying principles apply equally to the practice of Christian chastity and charity. Along with poverty, they form the triad of virtues that are mainly on trial in the affluent, sexual and self-preoccupied societies of our times.

    1. We must be convinced on faith that the First Beatitude of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount is a divinely revealed truth. Only the poor in spirit will inherit the Kingdom of heaven. We shall be only as zealous about practicing poverty as we are convinced that our salvation depends on our being, and not merely professing to be, poor in spirit.

    2. It is not quite true to say that an abundance of worldly possessions is no hindrance to salvation. It is.

    3. We must pray to understand how we, in our state of life, with our possessions of money, property, living facilities, food, clothing, means of travel and entertainment are nevertheless to remain poor in spirit.

    4. We must be sincere with God in telling Him that we are interiorly detached from the material things we possess or have access to. Self-deception is easy when I have all that I want of earthly satisfactions and then verbally tell God that my heart is not addicted to what I enjoy.

    5. We should examine our conscience daily on this internal detachment from what may externally surround us like the air that we breathe. Poverty of spirit is not a figure of speech. It is a living reality. If I am truly practicing the First Beatitude, I will experience something of what it means to be poor.

    6. If I am practicing poverty of spirit, I will be industrious. Poor people have to work for a living. “To labor is to pray,” says St. Benedict. And Thomas à Kempis asks, “Why do you want to rest, since you are born to labor.”

    7. If I am practicing poverty of spirit, I will be sensitive to the material needs of others. Poverty of spirit means charity of spirit. I want to share what I have with others; and not only of my superfluities, but even of my necessities.

    8. A good index of how poor we are is how peaceful we are in spirit. Worry and anxiety about the things of this world are, on Christ’s own testimony, signs of a lack of trust in God’s providence. According to St. Alphonsus Liguori, this means detachment “not only from what is valuable, but also from what is trifling.”

    9. Internal detachment from worldly things frees the human heart for attachment to heavenly things. The more time we have in our leisure society, the more time we should give to prayer.

    10. The world in which we live needs our witness of poverty. People who know what we believe should see our faith put into practice. It will take much light from God to live among the affluent and yet remain internally poor. We must call upon all the resources of grace to be patient and prudent and kind in our dealings with others without compromising our fidelity to Christ who became a poor Child to show us the way to heaven.

    For me, Number 6 is the most daunting: If I am practicing poverty of spirit, I will be industrious. My biggest fear is that on judgment day I will see how many years I wasted watching TV, reading bad fiction, and surfing the internet; and then I’ll see what I could have done if I had used my time more wisely.

    So, which one do you find most challenging/insightful/instructive/etc?

    The section of the Catechism that treats Catholic morality is called “Life in Christ.” Section One is called “Man’s Vocation: Life in the Spirit.” Chapter One is entitled “The Dignity of the Human Person.” And then we get to the first article: “Our Vocation to Beatitude.” Since vocation means “call, and beatitude means “happiness,” we could rename the title of Article One as “Our Call to Happiness.”

    That the Church puts happiness as one of the foundations of the moral life is rather astounding, when you think about it. But what’s more astounding is that this is confirmed by Scripture! 

    In Genesis 2, God made Eve for Adam so he should not be alone. Thus the primary relationship human in which humans engage — marriage — was created in was created by God for our happiness. 

    Then in Genesis 12, which is the beginning of God’s definitive and salvific action in human history, God gives Abram his heart’s desire — children. It will be through Abraham’s offspring that the joy and happiness of salvation will be given to the world.

    Finally, the beginning of the sermon with which Christ began his public ministry — the Sermon on the Mount — he tells us exactly how to be happy: “Blessed are the poor in spirit … blessed are the pure of heart … blessed are those who hunger after righteousness.”

    The three definitive beginnings — the beginning of human life, the beginning of salvation history, and the beginning of the everlasting covenant — all begin with God revealing his desire for us to be happy.

    As Serais Pinckaers says in The Pursuit of Happiness — God’s Way: Living the Beatitudes:

    This feature of the beatitudes [their emphasis on happiness] also leads us to revise a certain idea of God’s designs for us which is overly marked by fear. God has placed the desire for happiness in the heart of every man as a fundamental thrust, and He wants to respond to it by sharing His own happiness with us, if we will allow ourselves to be led by Him along paths known to Him alone. Our God does not love unhappiness. He takes no pleasure in tragedies and terrors, as the devil would have us believe when he arouses the anxieties and fears hidden in our depths. God always has happiness and joy in view. He wants us to believe this for His sake, on His own word.

    If one of the foundations of Catholic morality is happiness, what does that mean for the moral life? Or perhaps the better (or more precise question) is this: What is the relationship between happiness and objective moral precepts? How do you convince a 17 yr. old that he’ll be happier if he abstains from sex until he’s married? How do you convince a husband that cheating on his wife will make him unhappy? 

    And we can’t use the secular reasons to answer this question. You can tell the 17 yr. old that pre-marital sex will make him unhappy because he might get a girl pregnant or might contact an STD. Teenagers are invincible. And you can’t tell the adulterer that he should stop because if his wife finds out she’ll want a divorce and take him for half of what he’s worth. 

    Remember, we’re talking about Catholic morality, not social virtue (which, alas, no longer exits in Western culture). Thus our concern is with happiness and God. So how does God make a chaste teenager happy? How does God make a faithful spouse happy?

    The answer is difficult because the West’s typical definition of happiness is instant gratification. The West has a microwave mentality. When we want something, we get it. But chastity and faithfulness don’t give us instant gratification. The happiness virtue provides — and the happiness God ultimately provides — comes much later. 

    Thus one of the battles the catechist has when talking about morality is to get people to stop thinking only five minutes into the future. Barring tragedy, life is a journey, our race is a marathon. To gratify the moment’s desire without giving a bit of thought to the long haul is stupidity.

    And, sadly, that’s where we’re at.

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