The Ballad of Salvation Bill

I'm reading a book titled A Retreat for Lay People by Fr. Ronald Knox.  It is a collection of entries from which I read one a day (give or take, I didn't read yesterday).  The one I should have read yesterday is titled The Spirit of Faith.  Here is an excerpt from it:

I think we've got to ask Almighty God to give us more love, much more love, of truth for it's own sake.  Loving the truth isn't the same thing as arguing about it; when we argue, we are so bent on getting the other person to see our point of view that we hardly mind whether it is true or not; we become advocates.  Loving the truth isn't the same thing as preaching it or writing about it; when we preach it or write about it we are too much concerned with making it clear, with getting it across, to appreciate it in it's own nature.  Loving the truth isn't even the same thing as studying it, or meditating about it; when we study it, we are out to master it; when we meditate about it, we are using it as a lever which will help us to get a move on with the business of our own souls.  No, we have got to love the truth with a jealous, consuming love that can't rest satisfied until it has won the allegiance of every sane man and woman on God's earth.  And we don't, very often, love it like that.  We are God's spoiled children; His truth drops into your lap like a ripe fruit-Open thy mouth wide, He says, I will fill it.  There is a sense, you know, in which the false thinkers of to-day love the truth better than Christians do.  Their fancied truth is something they have earned by their own labours, and they appreciate it more than we appreciate the real truth which has dropped into our laps.

 If you can, I would recommend picking this book up and reading one chapter a day.  It's food for thought for me; it gives me things to think on very often.

Yesterday was a marriage preparation meeting for my fiance and I.  I think we spent exactly forty-five minutes actually talking about marriage related things, and then the conversation deviated to the subject of books and arguing versus quarreling.  I've gained two new books for my reading list, one of which is a collection of writings from various Popes and other officials.  Father said it should occupy me for a couple of years.  I look forward to it.

I leave you with a good poem:

The Ballad Of Salvation Bill
Robert Service

'Twas in the bleary middle of the hard-boiled Arctic night,
I was lonesome as a loon, so if you can,
Imagine my emotions of amazement and delight
When I bumped into that Missionary Man.
He was lying lost and dying in the moon's unholy leer,
And frozen from his toes to finger-tips'
The famished wolf-pack ringed him; but he didn't seem to fear,
As he pressed his ice-bound Bible to his lips.

'Twas the limit of my trap-line, with the cabin miles away,
And every step was like a stab of pain;
But I packed him like a baby, and I nursed him night and day,
Till I got him back to health and strength again.
So there we were, benighted in the shadow of the Pole,
And he might have proved a priceless little pard,
If he hadn't got to worrying about my blessed soul,
And a-quotin' me his Bible by the yard.

Now there was I, a husky guy, whose God was Nicotine,
With a "coffin-nail" a fixture in my mug;
I rolled them in the pages of a pulpwood magazine,
And hacked them with my jack-knife from the plug.
For, Oh to know the bliss and glow that good tobacco means,
Just live among the everlasting ice . . .
So judge my horror when I found my stock of magazines
Was chewed into a chowder by the mice.

A woeful week went by and not a single pill I had,
Me that would smoke my forty in a day;
I sighed, I swore, I strode the floor; I felt I would go mad:
The gospel-plugger watched me with dismay.
My brow was wet, my teeth were set, my nerves were rasping raw;
And yet that preacher couldn't understand:
So with despair I wrestled there - when suddenly I saw
The volume he was holding in his hand.

Then something snapped inside my brain, and with an evil start
The wolf-man in me woke to rabid rage.
"I saved your lousy life," says I; "so show you have a heart,
And tear me out a solitary page."
He shrank and shriveled at my words; his face went pewter white;
'Twas just as if I'd handed him a blow:
And then . . . and then he seemed to swell, and grow to Heaven's height,
And in a voice that rang he answered: "No!"

I grabbed my loaded rifle and I jabbed it to his chest:
"Come on, you shrimp, give me that Book," says I.
Well sir, he was a parson, but he stacked up with the best,
And for grit I got to hand it to the guy.
"If I should let you desecrate this Holy Word," he said,
"My soul would be eternally accurst;
So go on, Bill, I'm ready. You can pump me full of lead
And take it, but - you've got to kill me first."

Now I'm no foul assassin, though I'm full of sinful ways,
And I knew right there the fellow had me beat;
For I felt a yellow mongrel in the glory of his gaze,
And I flung my foolish firearm at his feet,
Then wearily I turned away, and dropped upon my bunk,
And there I lay and blubbered like a kid.
"Forgive me, pard," says I at last, "for acting like a skunk,
But hide the blasted rifle..." Which he did.

And he also hid his Bible, which was maybe just as well,
For the sight of all that paper gave me pain;
And there were crimson moments when I felt I'd go to hell
To have a single cigarette again.
And so I lay day after day, and brooded dark and deep,
Until one night I thought I'd end it all;
Then rough I roused the preacher, where he stretched pretending sleep,
With his map of horror turned towards the wall.

"See here, my pious pal," says I, "I've stood it long enough...
Behold! I've mixed some strychnine in a cup;
Enough to kill a dozen men - believe me it's no bluff;
Now watch me, for I'm gonna drink it up.
You've seen me bludgeoned by despair through bitter days and nights,
And now you'll see me squirming as I die.
You're not to blame, you've played the game according to your lights...
But how would Christ have played it? - Well, good-bye..."

With that I raised the deadly drink and laid it to my lips,
But he was on me with a tiger-bound;
And as we locked and reeled and rocked with wild and wicked grips,
The poison cup went crashing to the ground.
"Don't do it, Bill," he madly shrieked. "Maybe I acted wrong.
See, here's my Bible - use it as you will;
But promise me - you'll read a little as you go along...
You do! Then take it, Brother; smoke your fill."

And so I did. I smoked and smoked from Genesis to Job,
And as I smoked I read each blessed word;
While in the shadow of his bunk I heard him sigh and sob,
And then . . . a most peculiar thing occurred.
I got to reading more and more, and smoking less and less,
Till just about the day his heart was broke,
Says I: "Here, take it back, me lad. I've had enough I guess.
Your paper makes a mighty rotten smoke."

So then and there with plea and prayer he wrestled for my soul,
And I was racked and ravaged by regrets.
But God was good, for lo! next day there came the police patrol,
With paper for a thousand cigarettes. . .
So now I'm called Salvation Bill; I teach the Living Law,
And Bally-hoo the Bible with the best;
And if a guy won't listen - why, I sock him on the jaw,
And preach the Gospel sitting on his chest.

Lessons Twenty-one, Twenty-two, and Twenty-three

I have a lesson of my own today.
I learned something this week.  Or, more accurately, relearned as I tend to forget this lesson on occasion.  I learned that I should absolutely not write when I'm upset.  It's a very tempting thing to do because it feels like it's satisfying, but it's a trick (it's a trap!).  It's not satisfying later, when I wake up the next day, or even a few hours after posting.  I feel childish and rather silly more often than not, for giving in to the temptation.  Then I reprimand myself for having posted it.  On Facebook, I simply delete the update (unless there are comments), though I have improved at not posting things in the first place.  Here, there will be no deleting.  I haven't really written when I've been angry; I generally calm myself down before I begin a post, but I have not followed this rule with comments.  For shame.  I know better.

The next lesson is this:
The amazing thing about text is it can be interpreted however the reader wants to interpret it.  Regardless of the writer's intent.  This is what I disliked most about literature class in school; interpretation of an author's work.  Particularly poetry.  For example, in my college lit class we interpreted the following poem:

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

And the first thing someone said about it was that it was about sex.  Specifically about a man taking a woman's virginity.  Having experience with the sentiment of regret on that subject I understood how my classmate had interpreted the poem in that way; I could have myself, had my experience been more recent.  The correct interpretation, according to the teacher, was that it was a note posted on the fridge by a lover saying exactly what they had done: eaten the plums in the icebox.
Regardless of interpretation, this is one of my favorite poems.

At any rate, on to the lessons!

Lesson Twenty-one
The Commandments of the Church; The First and Second Commandments
281.  Which are the chief commandments, or laws, of the Church?  The chief commandments, or laws, of the church are these six:

1. To assist at mass on all Sundays and holydays of obligation.
2. To fast and to abstain on the days appointed.
3. To confess our sins at least once a year.
4. To receive Holy Communion during the Easter time.
5. To contribute to the support of the Church.
6. To observe the laws of the Church concerning marriage.

283.  Which are the holydays of obligation in the United States?  The holydays of obligation in the United States are these six:

1. Christmas Day (December 25)
2. Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God (January 1)
3. Ascension Thursday (40 days after Easter)
4. The Assumption (August 15)
5. All Saints' Day (November 1)
6. The Immaculate Conception (December 8)

The first and second commandments of the church are easy for me right now.  Mass is a joy to attend, and I wish there was a parish somewhere that celebrated mass in the evening so that I could attend daily mass.  Getting up at 5:30 in the morning and going straight to work is not very conducive to attending daily mass, as most of the mass times in my area are around 6:00 a.m..  That's probably the only thing I miss about my 2:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. schedule.
The second (fasting) is something I did before I was acquainted with the Church.  Every so often I would pick a day to fast, only consuming liquids the entire day (almost, I never quite made it to bed time).  So giving up meat on Fridays, or fasting during lent is not exactly a new concept to me, and I actually enjoy doing it.  During lent I try to give up something challenging - last year was caffeine (I work at a coffee shop) and sugar - and I will put in my best effort to abstain from whatever it is until lent is over.  This means no 'cheating' by making exceptions of Sundays and feast days.
My fiance calls me his little viking because of this and my unwillingness to take painkillers right away.  This is how I've always done lent, though; nothing of what I gave up until lent has officially ended.  That is not to say that I apply this to others.  I only expect it of myself; however you do lent is okay with me.

Funny story:  As I was reading the holydays of obligation I thought, "crap! I missed the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God this year.  That's a terrible way to start off 2012!"  But then, looking at the calendar, I realized that January 1st was on a Sunday.  It was like the moment you realize you're missing your credit/debit card, only to find that you've put it in the wrong place in your wallet.

Lesson Twenty-two
The Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Commandments of the Church

The third commandment of the Church is regarding confession.  Once a year seems pretty lenient to me, though.  Shouldn't you confess your sins weekly, or at the very least monthly?  I used to be afraid of confession, but now (having done it) I feel it is necessary to my spiritual well-being.  It gives me points of improvement, as it were.  I can measure my own progress in being a good person week by week judging by what I have to confess.
The fourth (communion) is another that seems like it should be more frequent.  It can be a double edged sword, however.  The churches (that I think have lost sight of things a little) that provide no confessional other than by appointment are offering their members the opportunity to commit sacrilege.  Granted, this statement assumes a lot about the parishioners, and I don't think the assumption is generally true for those that attend these churches; I'm just saying that the opportunity is more readily available for sacrilege to be committed out of ignorance more than anything else.  But then, if you commit it out of ignorance, does the sacrilege still apply?  I'll have to ask Father.  Speaking of Father, he said (on a couple occasions) that a sign of a healthy parish is long confession lines, and short communion lines.  I tend to agree, as no one is without sin.
The fifth is self-explanatory, although it makes me think of the guy who argued Catholicism was polytheistic.  He also claimed that if you don't drop money in the collection plate every Sunday, you will be looked down upon, and generally made a pariah in the church.  I didn't start putting money into the collection plate every Sunday until very recently.  To the best of my knowledge, no one judged me for it, and I certainly wasn't shunned.
The sixth is also pretty self-explanatory.  I think.

Lesson Twenty-three
The Sacraments
305.  How many sacraments are there?  There are seven sacraments:  Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist, Penance, Anointing the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony.

This lesson explains the special graces given by each sacrament and what those graces and sacraments help you achieve.  It also touches a little on mortal sin, explaining that if you miss mass on Sundays or holydays you've committed a mortal sin, etc.  Basically if you violate the sacraments, you've committed a mortal sin.
Receiving communion in a state of mortal sin is an example of sacrilege.  Which is what I was referring to earlier.

~~~

As a footnote: I am a newb when it comes to being Catholic: there is still much for me to learn.  Here is where I will share my learning experience with you.  I'm not trying to teach you anything.  At best, I'd like for this blog to provide references, which is why I structure the lesson entries the way I do.  I cannot stress enough that I am not telling anyone they should change.  I'm relating the story of my own change.