to write about the CCC. That and a cap of Advil PM.
I had one or more dreams—you know how, when you toss and turn, you can’t remember whether you had one dream or nine, but are sure you spent the whole damn night dreaming this dream?—involving men friends of mine who have suffered for faith. Possibly O, maybe B, and one of them could have been the wonderfully named Vincent Hammer, or blends of these real-life friends—none of whom were necessarily Catholic but all of whom have been spiritual adventurers, and suffered for it.
In my dream(s), these friends of mine and I took the Catechism to the streets, and every scene was lit in the dark solar-eclipse non-daylight of the “Terminator” movies. They were taking the teaching of the Church to the streets with verve and with guns and with jaws grimly set, as though there were some very bad guys to be killed while the good guys, or those who wanted to be good guys, were instructed in the dogma of the Holy Catholic Church.
I was each of them, and a voice for all of them, a bunch of guys who have searched for the Mystery and not found Him wanting, though He sometimes seems absent from the world. No one died. In this dream or dreams, no guns were fired, but everyone was packing. It was the Magnificent Seven recast as The Seven, short only five Apostles.
And so I begin the new liturgical year and what I hope will be a good set of posts. On the bus to New York yesterday, I read a quote from Pope Pius X: “All evil in the world is due to lukewarm Catholics.”
Lord, make me hot. Lord, make me cold.