Lifestyle

September 20, 2016 By Sam Guzman 31 Comments

Two Acres and a Cow: Our Back to the Land Adventure

My wife and I have had a dream for several years.

We’ve dreamt of a little house in the country with a few acres, a big garden, and some chickens—a life close to the land and in touch with the rhythms of the earth. We’ve envisioned a place where we could learn to work with our hands and know where our food comes from.

We’ve also dreamt that this little place in the country life would be anchored by a Catholic community and sanctified by the beauty of a strong liturgical life. And maybe, when we’ve felt really ambitious, we’ve dreamt of playing some small part in the the renewal of Catholic culture.

Perhaps it isn’t the American dream. But it is our dream. And now, it is becoming a reality. In less than a week, my wife and kids and I are packing our bags and headed south to rural Oklahoma where we will live close to Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey.

Are you crazy?

More on our upcoming move in a minute, but first, a little bit about why we are doing this. After all, why would a young family comfortably living in the suburbs of a large city decide to move to a remote and economically poor rural area, far from family, friends, and all that is familiar? Why would we leave a parish we love and a state we’ve called home for years, to start all over? Here are some of our motivations.

Catholic Agrarianism – For years now, I’ve imbued the works of writers and thinkers like G.K. Chesterton, Fr. Vincent McNabb, Wendell Berry, Vigen Guroian, Catherine Doherty, Pope Pius XII and a host of others. These men and women, to varying degrees, have articulated a vision of Christian rural life that is more than mere sentimental pining for the simplicity of the past. Rather, they emphasize the importance of subsidiarity and authentic community, stewardship of the earth, the importance of economic self-sufficiency, the virtue of labor, connection between culture and place, and more. I love reading about these ideas, but at some point, they must be translated into action, and that is what we are doing.
Hard Work – I work from home, and my job involves sitting at a computer for 8 hours a day. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret this. I love what I do and technology is what is enabling our move to the country in the first place. But my work is entirely mental in nature. I don’t build tables or plant crops, or do anything that involves real bodily labor. Yet, we are bodily creatures and I am convinced bodily labor is not only good, it is necessary, in some form or another. Why not simply get a gym membership, you ask? Because I tend to laziness and procrastination. A gym membership is optional, and any optional labor is easy to shirk. Tending animals and a garden, on the other hand, requires work that can’t be delayed (unless you want all your animals to die and crops fail). Moreover, the labor of husbandry provides tangible fruit. Rather than exercising to look “buff,” the labor of caring for things produces food for your table.

Materialism – A few miles from where we currently live, developers are building a huge, luxury shopping center. This shopping center is only a couple of miles from the local mall. Between this new shopping center and mall are literally hundreds of stores where everything imaginable is sold. And that isn’t the end of it. Every cornfield, every small patch of green grass in our small town is getting bulldozed to build more stores. Within 5 minutes of us, there is a Wal-Mart, Menards, Meijer (a Wal-Mart competitor), at least 15 restaurants, Starbucks. Oh, and three grocery stores, each more luxurious than the next! That’s all within five minutes. It is consumerism gone mad, and there is no end in sight. By American standards, we live a simple life. We shop rarely and don’t consider ourselves materialistic. Yet, despite that, we find ourselves being tempted by the dazzling onslaught of stuff. We eat out more than we need to, and we find ourselves wanting and buying things we don’t need. Despite our best efforts, we are unconsciously sucked in by the culture of consumerism. At a very deep level, we want out of this way of life. Part of our God-given vocation as humans is to create. We don’t want to be mere consumers. And so we are reorienting our lives to break free of the trap.
Monastic Stability – We live in a fast changing world, a world that is quickly becoming hostile to Christianity. This isn’t the first time in history this has happened, either. Just as Christians congregated around Benedictine monasteries during the collapse of the Roman empire, we are moving toward the stability of Clear Creek. Put another way, we are exercising the Benedict Option. Some call this escapism, but we call it common sense.

There are other reasons we are moving, but suffice it so say that we are seeking to shape our life around what we believe, rather than shaping what we believe based on the way we live.

Headed to Clear Creek

Clear Creek Abbey is home to about 50 monks. Each day, they pray the liturgy of hours as it has been prayed for centuries. They work and pray and offer hospitality to pilgrims and guests. These monks are in the midst of a huge construction project, building an abbey church that will long outlive any of us, and will likely survive for centuries.

Surrounding this monastic foundation, there is a small but growing community of Catholic families, young and old, that share the vision for traditional Catholic rural life and Benedictine prayer and work. It is to this community that we are moving.

We hope to share more about our move in the days to come. Please keep our family in your prayers!

August 24, 2016 By Sam Guzman 9 Comments

The Art of Being a Good Listener

I used to know a woman who talked incessantly. She had an extreme case of logorrhea, and from her lips poured forth a torrent, no a tidal wave of words.

Conversations with her were far from a two-way dialogue. Rather, they were a one-sided assault. Even making a simple comment in response to something she said was well nigh impossible. She could hold an entire room hostage in stunned silence with her verbal barrage. To be on the receiving end was difficult, to say the least.

Most of us are not in danger of such extreme loquacity, nor are we usually such poor conversationalists. But chances are we could improve our ability to converse well with others, especially when it comes to listening rather than speaking.

How to Have a Conversation

In the developed western world, we are rich with material goods but suffer from a serious poverty of attention. Distracted and rushed, we keep conversations and genuine human connection to a bare minimum. We excuse ourselves by saying we are too busy, but in reality, we are often fearful of making ourselves vulnerable to others. Likewise, we fear listening to others because it might cost us precious emotional energy. It’s simply easier and safer to be busy.

Yet, this human connection is essential to a happy life. We are beings made for communion, and all around us are people hungry to be heard and acknowledged, understood and affirmed.

Listening is also a critical skill in the workplace and any environment where personal interaction is required. It will further your growth as a man.

To this end, I want to recommend a simple acronym that can help you improve your conversations: E.A.R.

E is for Empathize – One of the most effective ways to listen well is to empathize with what the other person is saying. Try to step into their shoes and understand what they are communicating. If it’s a funny story, laugh with them. If it’s a story that is embarrassing, feel their embarrassment. Strive to engage deeply with what they are saying, to really hear them more than superficially.

The best listeners and conversationalists I know, both men and women, have a profound ability to feel your excitement, joy, or sorrow. And knowing that they understand you and that they are really listening is profoundly affirming.

A is for Ask – The next skill required of a good conversationalist is asking questions. Once the other individual has shared something about themselves, draw them out with further inquiries. I once had a fascinating conversation with a man at the airport who owned an oil refinery in Wyoming.

“How did you end up owning a refinery?” “What’s it like in Wyoming?” “You’ve been all over the world! What was your favorite place?”

Questions like that drew out surprising and interesting answers, leading to more questions and dialogue. I learned all sorts of interesting things from this man, and while our encounter was relatively brief, I went away having made a connection with someone who had a unique story to tell. You’ll find is that, to varying degrees, everyone is interesting and everyone has something to say, if only given the opportunity.

R is for Respond – Once you have really heard the other person and drawn them out with further questions, engage them with your own anecdotes and stories. Often, this is the first thing we do, and this isn’t necessarily wrong. It is a human tendency to talk about ourselves, to think our stories and perspectives are unique and important. Yet, listening and asking rather than speaking immediately is a small gift of courtesy that can make a profound difference to another person. Wait to share your stories and ideas, and you will be a better conversationalist for it.

It is Good that You Exist

Every day we encounter other human beings. Sometimes these relationships last a moment and sometimes they last a lifetime. In every relationship—whether it be with a co-worker, a person on the subway, or your spouse—listening is one of the most valuable skills to possess. Truly stopping your mad rush of activity to hear another person, to affirm their existence, is a powerful act of kindness that will not go unappreciated.

As Pope Benedict XVI put it, “If an individual is to accept himself, someone must say to him: ‘It is good that you exist’ – must say it, not with words, but with that act of the entire being that we call love.”

Today, and every day, say to those you encounter, ‘It is good that you exist’ by offering them the gift of your listening presence.

March 4, 2015 By Sam Guzman 53 Comments

Liquid Bread: The Top 5 Bock Beers for Lent

e131b36ad5c5231a0ccd894f7f267c3b — Photo source

So you gave up dessert for Lent? Good for you, you wimp! Once upon a time, German monks ate nothing for the entirety of the Lenten fast. No bread, no salad, no fruit—nothing. Beat that.

How did they survive, you ask? By imbibing large quantities of heavy, calorie rich beer, of course!

Around 700 years ago, German monks in the town of Einbeck developed a specific style of malty, dark, high alcohol beer to help sustain them during intense periods of fasting. This beer became known as Bock, a corruption of the name Einbeck. Later, discontent with the strength of Bock style beer, monks developed an even stronger variant known as Doppelbock, meaning double Bock. This beer was so laden with nutrition that some dubbed it “liquid bread.”

Now, these beers were so delicious that the monks began to wonder if they were contrary to the spirit of Lenten penance. Being faithful sons of the Church, they decided to consult the pope. On the journey to Rome, however, the beer was subjected to extreme weather conditions, causing it to spoil and turn sour. When the pope tasted it, he was so appalled by the spoiled beer that he immediately deemed it an excellent Lenten penance.

Seeing as beer has a long history as Lenten fare, I thought I would suggest five Bock style beers to sustain you during the long dark days until Easter.

Weltenburger Kloster Asam-Bock – Founded in the year 1050, the Weltenburger brewery is one of the oldest monastic breweries in the world. While it is sadly now a corporate operation, the brewery still makes a high quality Bock, which is no surprise when you’ve nearly 1,000 years to practice.
Salvator Doppel Bock – Salvator Doppel Bock is one of the first monastic Doppelbocks, brewed by the Paulaner brewery in Munich. This beer is dangerously good—it was once banned by the government because villagers complained that it was causing drinkers to become too lively.
La Trappe Bockbier – De Koningshoeven Brewery, commonly known as La Trappe, is a world-famous Trappist brewery founded in 1884. The brewery has grown heavily commercialized in recent years, but they still make an excellent Bock.
Andechser Doppelbock Dunkel – The Andeschser Doppelbock is considered by many to be one of the best Doppelbocks in the world. Brewed in Andeschs, Germany by the Benedictine Monks of St. Boniface, it is one of the few successful monastic breweries still owned by monks.
Weihenstephaner Korbinian – The Weihenstephan brewery is considered by many to be the oldest breweries in the world. Founded in the year 725 by St. Corbinian, Weihenstephan Abbey began brewing beer in the year 1040. The brewery is now owned by the state of Bavaria, but its Korbinian Doppelbock is one of the finest in the world.

There you have it: Five delicious Bock-style beers for the remaining weeks of Lent. If you’re really feeling brave, maybe next year you can imitate one courageous soul who decided to follow the monks of yore by subsisting on beer alone for the entirety of Lent!

What are your favorite Bock or Doppelbock style beers?

February 9, 2015 By Sean Fitzpatrick 2 Comments

Jack London’s “To Build a Fire”: Humanity Hanging by a Thread

There is a peculiar characteristic about the ice-bound regions of the world that renders them absolutely fantastic, absolutely fascinating, and absolutely forbidding. Hoary mountains, glacial vistas, snowy deserts, solid waters, fluid fires of aurora-borealis, and air that is too cold to breathe all give the distinct impression that men ought not to keep company with such august presences. Yet, there will always be some mysterious, mad reason why the holy places of Coleridge’s pleasure-dome were savage caves of ice. It could be the reason why the Vikings imagined that the first man was fashioned out of a glacier instead of the earth. Such a reason might explain why the hostility of the polar elements is the very thing that makes them irresistible. Somehow their unmerciful aspect reflects majesty, the divine—and it is terrifying.

Appreciating these qualities requires an experience beyond the range of literature, but sometimes literature must suffice. Jack London’s mesmerizing masterpiece “To Build a Fire” is a work that captures something of why the icy parts of the earth are the natural expressions of the truth that fear leads to wisdom, and that only fools despise such instruction and such wisdom. And a truly fearful tale it is too; one that turns a reader’s face into what Robert Service called a “map of horror.”

Written in 1908, “To Build a Fire” is as cruel as an icepick, delivered with the straightforward severity of a death sentence that marches with a creeping, inevitable doom, relentless as frost. It follows a nameless man traveling by foot through the frozen tundra of the Yukon to a claim where his companions await him at camp. It was a cold, clear, sunless day that wore the gloom of a pall. The man had made perilous journeys before, but he was a newcomer on that northern tip of the globe and it was his first winter. Never had he been exposed to such temperatures—seventy-five degrees below zero. The man realized that it was very cold; colder than any cold he had endured. He had never known tobacco expectorations to snap to ice before they landed. It certainly was cold.

But such it was, and onwards he went; for the man, though a survivalist, was not a transcendentalist. “The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, not in the significances.” To him, cold weather was cold weather and nothing more. It would never have occurred to him, at that moment as he plunged down the snow-scape between the spruce trees, to consider the ferocious indifference of Nature pitted against his insect frailty. The man was not one of philosophic or symbolic bent, and he failed to recognize the jaws of snow and sky, of mortality and eternity, closing around him. Onwards he went, rubbing his cheeks and nose with his mitten automatically, without that spiritual appreciation that inspires healthy, holy, and human fear.

Fear, however, struck with a vengeance. After several miles, the man broke through a snow-covered skin of ice, landing knee-deep in a pool of frigid water. With this, Death turned the hourglass and the race to build a fire began. As the man toiled, fending off panic and battling against his numb and increasingly lifeless extremities, his fears progressed from the prospect of losing a few toes, to losing his hands and feet, to losing his very life. If only he could build a fire. Thus, a cosmic apocalypse dawned in the feeble flickering flames and the incidents and accidents that arose to snuff and strangle them: man is nothing if he cannot build a fire. As this brutal, unsympathetic conflict of opposing elements, frantic ingenuity, and inexorable forces unfolds, suspense mounts to a perfectly feverish pitch to create a perfectly chilling story of man against Nature.

From his own northern adventures in the Klondike gold rush of 1897, Jack London knew well the devices Nature employs to dangle man above the abyss in a sickening display of fatality and finiteness that is no falsehood. The “white silence” of the Yukon, in his opinion, bore the starkest ability to inspire the stupefying smallness of man in no uncertain terms. It is in these colorless, iron-clad regions that a wise fear is struck in the heart, a timidity that is a humility, and a trembling that shakes the soul awake to the awful truth that, though man is the lord of nature, he is subject to it at the same time. It is there in that silence that, to quote London,

…the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of God, of the universe, comes over [man]—the hope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of the imprisoned essence—it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God.

And so should man walk with God, for Nature, and especially the Northland, does not care if man live or die. The pitiless, frozen faces that glare from these misanthropic expanses declare with white and wise silence that the frailer members of creation have little to no business clinging in their crags. But the tenuous tenacity of the human race has always merited reward; and so they have been, and still are, endured by the powers that be—for the time being. Nevertheless, their snowy peaks somehow reveal human civilization as the flash in the pan that it is, and suggest that, despite the progress of the modern age, it may be the case, in the end, that man is as fitting a resident among the frigid kingdoms as he would be at the bottom of the sea. It is part of the mystery of man to desire to exist where he cannot easily live. Acknowledging this suicidal tendency that has fathered heroes, perhaps there are places on this man-inherited planet where men are not necessarily welcome and ought not to trespass.

This hell-bent, do-or-die, Shackletonian tendency is not as prevalent or popular as it once was, and that—perhaps, or in part—because there is less necessity for it now. Man no longer need risk his life in order to live, and therefore the appetite for adventure, now widely labeled inconvenience, has lessened. The trend now tends not toward he intrepid, but the insipid. The existence of the average person is hardly ever threatened, and thus the value of existence itself is threatened. If people are not aware of the tremendous tenuousness of their lives, it is difficult to cherish life. If people are disconnected from those powers that overhang and overshadow the paltry powers of man, people will be lost in an illusion of superiority and security. And so they are lost. Illusion reigns. The world has lost its imagination and the ability to separate things from their significance. “By the breath of God is ice given,” proclaims the Book of Job, echoing through eternity, “and the broad waters are frozen fast.” Stories like “To Build a Fire” are jarring and uncomfortable for the very reason that man is jaded and comfortable, and so should they be read. The cold can invigorate as well as it can kill.

—

Sean Fitzpatrick is a graduate of Thomas Aquinas College and the Headmaster of Gregory the Great Academy. He lives in Scranton, PA with his wife and family of four. This piece originally ran at Crisis Magazine and it is reprinted with permission.

December 29, 2014 By Sam Guzman 24 Comments

Thou Shalt Take it Easy: 7 Reasons to Embrace Sunday Rest

Recently, my wife and I were at a Catholic thrift store we frequent, and posted prominently by the entrance was a large sign announcing that beginning in January, the store would now be open on Sundays. The sign explained that Sunday used to be a special day for family, for worship, and for rest—but it simply isn’t that anymore. Instead, it is just another day to get things done. “We want to meet people where they are,” the sign concluded, “and that means being open on Sunday.”

My wife and I were saddened. We had been proud of this store for being one of the handful that still closed on Sunday. In a day when nothing but profit remains sacred, it’s hard to believe that only 50 or so years ago, everything was closed on Sunday. Catholic, protestant, or secular, the culture recognized the uniqueness of Sunday as a day of rest.

But while the culture is racing madly about, being “productive” on Sunday, we Catholics should still respect the Lord’s day. Here are seven reasons why you should rest on Sunday.

1. God commands it

The first and foremost reason for resting on Sundays is because God commands it. In Exodus chapter 20, God gives his people ten commandments that summarize the moral law. Among these is a commandment to “remember the sabbath day to keep it holy.” How is the sabbath to be kept holy? By resting.

Six days you shall labor, and do all your work; but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; in it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your manservant, or your maidservant, or your cattle, or the sojourner who is within your gates.

Mother Church also instructs the faithful to rest on Sundays, including a commandment to rest as the first of her six precepts.

“The first precept (“You shall attend Mass on Sundays and holy days of obligation and rest from servile labor”) requires the faithful to sanctify the day commemorating the Resurrection of the Lord as well as the principal liturgical feasts honoring the mysteries of the Lord, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the saints; in the first place, by participating in the Eucharistic celebration, in which the Christian community is gathered, and by resting from those works and activities which could impede such a sanctification of these days” (CCC #2042).

In other words, go to Mass and then enjoy some leisure.

2. God rested

When you think of resting on Sundays, you may immediately begin to think of reasons why it is impractical. Perhaps you don’t feel tired, or maybe you have too much to get done to take a day off, or maybe you simply don’t want to.

Whatever the reasons you come up with, though, your excuses are exploded by the fact that God rested on the seventh day—and if anyone didn’t need to take a break, it was him! Think about it, God has unlimited energy. Creating the universe, magnificent and complex at it is, did not tax God’s strength. He could have created a million universes without breaking a sweat. And yet he rested.

There are deeply theological reasons for God’s Sabbath rest that can perhaps be explored in another post, but the point is, God rested, and so should we.

3. You actually need it

Whether you think so or not, you need to rest on Sundays. Unlike God, you do not have unlimited creative energy. It is a scientific fact that the human brain and body can only take so much activity without deteriorating dramatically. The vast majority of us are overworked and stressed out, teetering on the brink of burnout. In fact, business is a badge of honor in some circles.

Stress is hard on the body, and rest is absolutely essential to productivity. St. Thomas once said, “Without work, it is impossible to have fun.” This could easily be reversed: Without fun (rest), it is impossible to work effectively. You need a day off to recuperate before tackling a new work week.

4. Family and friends

When is the last time you shared a family meal with your wife and children or close relatives? Big Sunday meals with the family after Mass used to be a highlight of every Catholic week. They still should be.

The modern world, fueled by technology, has left us more isolated than ever before. The lack of face-to-face, personal interaction has left families fragmented and many people painfully lonely. Sundays, if properly respected, offer a unique opportunity to spend time with those we love, whether that is family or friends.

5. Prayer and spiritual reading

The saints tell us that prayer is absolutely essential to salvation. Spiritual reading, too, offers us an opportunity to hear God speaking in return. These two activities should be weekly habits for every Catholic.

Yet, despite their critical importance, many of us are so busy that we feel we simply do not have time to pray, read, or meditate as we want to. That’s why Sundays are so important—they offer us the space we need to commune with our Lord, both literally in the Holy Eucharist, but also in restful times of prayer and meditation on the truths of the Faith.

6. Things you enjoy

Creativity is part of being made in the image of God. It is fascinating to me that cultures of the past had far less of what we would consider free time, and yet everything they made—from tools to blankets to clothing—was made beautiful with intricate patterns and decorations. These days, we have countless conveniences that give us incredible amounts of free-time, but rather than creating, we merely consume.

It is important for men to have a creative outlet. The options are endless—writing, woodworking, gardening, model building, working on engines, leather-working, and a lot more. Again, Sunday offers a unique opportunity to work with our hands, doing something we enjoy for its own sake.

7. Naps

Sundays are all about rest, and there’s no better way to celebrate this fact than with a good nap. To be honest, I would feel pretty guilty if I took a nap in the middle of the day during the rest of the week when there are many obligations to attend to (my boss probably wouldn’t appreciate it either). But on Sundays, I take a guilt free nap if I feel like it, and it really is great. You should try it sometime.

Thou Shalt Take it Easy

If you think about it, it’s really a beautiful thing that God commands us to rest. He is not a slave-driver or brutal taskmaster, pushing us to exhaustion and burnout. On the contrary, he is a loving Father who knows and desires what is best for his children. “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart,” Jesus said, “and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I would encourage you to examine your Sunday routine and look for concrete ways to make it more restful and relaxing. Cut out the the unnecessary shopping and errands. Make it a day of quiet, rest, fun, prayer, friends, and family.

Our Lord, in his great love for you, is commanding you to keep holy his day by setting aside the to-do list and enjoying some rest. Six days thou shalt run around like a madman, but on the seventh, thou shalt rest, take it easy, play a little bit. Really. Just do it.