Hail, to the critters valiant!

Wolverine State has its first confirmed wolverine resident since the 19th Century.
The location is nothing short of unbelievable--not in the Upper Peninsula, but the Thumb:

While a thrill for Karr and other wildlife officials, the sighting near the Thumb community of Ubly creates a mystery: How did the wolverine get there?

"It's up there with having a caribou or a polar bear turn up in the Thumb," DNR spokesman Brad Wurfel said Wednesday. "It's unprecedented."

It remains a question whether the animals have called Michigan home since the 19th century, even though the state has the unofficial Wolverine nickname and University of Michigan's athletic program uses the moniker.

Raymond Rustem, supervisor of the natural heritage unit in the DNR's Wildlife Division, said the wolverine in Huron County is far from what would be considered its nearest natural home of northern Canada. He said it could have traveled to the state, been released or escaped from captivity.

"It's a total surprise," Rustem said. "What it means, who knows? When you take a look at the wolverine, there's always been this debate about whether wolverines ever were a part of Michigan's recent past. Some evidence shows that, some says no."

Helpful Michigander Tip: Wolverines make dicey pets.

That is all.

It's here.

Some reviews and commentary, sublime and...less so. Me? No, haven't seen it yet. If you're looking for the relentlessly negative reviews, or the negative aspects of even four-star reviews, Michelle has the link for you! A little pinch of arsenic (or a bucket--Carroll? Please...) in every bite.

Still, Jewish concerns are warranted, valid, and must be considered. Here are three reviews by men of goodwill. Read them all.

Michael Medved.
Dennis Prager.
Jeff Jacoby.

"Dialogue" often gets a bad rap, and often deservedly so. Here's an example of a worthwhile meeting about the film between Catholics and Jews living in the Diocese of Grand Rapids.

The Jewish Federation of Grand Rapids bought out two theaters for joint screenings with area Catholics. Leaders of the Jewish community and the Catholic Diocese aimed to defuse divisiveness through dialogue.

Catholic Bishop Kevin Britt hailed it as perhaps the largest public gathering of Catholics and Jews the area has seen.

"It is our prayer that over time this evening will be another step in understanding between Catholics and our Jewish brothers and sisters," Britt said during a discussion following one of the showings.

He noted the Second Vatican Council denounced anti-Semitism and declared neither all ancient Jews nor Jews today should be held responsible for Jesus' death.

Britt said he saw no anti-Jewish slant in Gibson's film, calling it "very powerful."

"I don't think I'll be able to read the gospel again with the same eyes," Britt said. "To see the real physical suffering Christ endured will give it a whole new meaning."

Though extremely violent by today's standards, he added, the movie "might be reflective of what really happened."

Rabbi David Krishef disagreed, calling the violence "over the top" compared to gospel texts. But Krishef said warnings of the film's anti-Jewish content were overblown.

"I walked into the movie expecting something that would be very obviously and explicitly anti-Semitic," said Krishef, leader of Congregation Ahavas Israel. "Honestly, I didn't see it. I saw glimpses here and there."

He asked Jews to keep in mind most Christians won't see anti-Semitism, but a powerful interpretation of a sacred text. But he reminded Christians, "when we Jews see this crowd of people demanding the crucifixion of Jesus, we take it personally."

For the full smorgasbord of reviews, try Rotten Tomatoes. It's running about 51/49 positive negative, as of right now. Speaking of which, here are four balanced, but positive, reviews from a variety of sources.

James Berardinelli's Reel Views.
Terry Lawson (Detroit Free Press).
The USCCB (apparently they didn't get the scholars' memo--fundamentalism is everywhere--AAAAIIIIIEE!)
Kenneth Woodward of Newsweek. I particularly enjoy these quotes from Woodward:

More than 60 years ago, H. Richard Neibuhr summarized the creed of an easygoing American Christianity that has in our time triumphantly come to pass: "A God without wrath brought men without sin into a kingdom without judgment though the ministrations of a Christ without a cross." Despite its muscular excess, Mr. Gibson's symbol-laden film is a welcome repudiation of all that.
* * *
It is easy, of course, to contrast third-millennium Christian mores with the story of Christ's Passion. Like other Americans, Christians want desperately to know that they are loved, in the words of the old Protestant hymn, "just as I am." But the love of God, as Dorothy Day liked to put it, "is a harsh and dangerous love" that requires real transformation. It is not the sort imagined by today's spiritual seekers who are "into" Asian religions.

Significantly, the Passion and death of Jesus is the chief element in the Gospel story that other religions cannot accept. In Islam, Jesus does not die on the cross because such a fate is considered unfitting for a prophet of Allah. By Hindus and Buddhists, Jesus is often regarded as a spiritual master, but the story of his suffering and death are considered unbecoming of an enlightened sage. Like the Buddha, the truly liberated transcend suffering and death. But Jesus submits to it — willingly, Christians believe — for the sins of all.

Finally, the...less than sublime.

Two winners of the H. Richard Niebuhr Award for Missing The Point Entirely:

David Van Biema, from Time, who celebrates our wondrous, sinless, superior selves:

The Passion of the Christ is a one-note threnody about the Son of God being dragged to his death. That may be just the ticket for some times and for some benighted places where understanding human torment in terms of God's love is the only religious insight of any use. But in a culture as rich, as powerful, as lucky and as open-minded as ours — one might even say, as blessed — it is, or should be, a very bad fit indeed.

Actually, Mr. Van Biema, that makes it a perfect fit for our smug, well-fed, bored, half-anethesized consciences which can only work up a yawn or titillated smirk at the myriad horrors in our midst.

The nothing-if-not-consistent Deacon Bronson Havard of the Diocese of Dallas.

Many people who saw the screenings of “The Passion” could not articulate how they felt afterwards, except to be repulsed.

And the others, Bron? Besides, last time I checked, crucifixion is repulsive. That was the fricking point.

Shock treatment about the crucifixion is not a substitute for understanding Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount or his opposition to religious legalism, oppressive governments and caste systems. The movie has too few flashbacks to Jesus’ ministry to give a clear picture of what his life was about.

Maybe there's not much of the rest of it--I don't know, perhaps--could just be--theoretically, I hasten to add--because the film is called THE PASSION of the Christ, you twit! If it were called The Sermon of The Christ, or The Teaching of The Christ, or The Distinctive Table Fellowship of The Christ, or The Imagined Fuzzy Bunny Inclusiveness of The Christ As Presented By the Spokesflack of the Diocese of Dallas, you'd have a point. But, as it stands now--objection overruled.

Jesus stressed the dignity of each human being. He freed men and women of all backgrounds to know each other as brothers and sisters who are loved by their Creator.

First sentence--Yep. Second sentence--Maalox. Remember the quote from Niebuhr. Actually, Jesus freed us from sin, restoring us to a loving Father we had rejected by preferring everything else in the world to Him. There was only one way He could do that, too. Unfortunately for The Rev. Havard and the rest of the Luv Bunny Brigade, there's no avoiding the scandal of the Cross. Even if you're the pointman for a Catholic Diocese.

To embrace the cross in Christian theology is to truly know the liberating power of love.

"Everyone, open your hymn book to song number 38.

Come on, people now, smile on your brother/
Everybody get together and love one another right now..."

No, Rev. Havard: There's no way out but through. You can't get to Easter without living through Good Friday.

Posting Change for Lent.

Expect almost no posting during the day, except during the early morning hours. It's a combo mortification and lack of time thing.

Thanks for all the links and comments on the "Fathers" article below.

To call the impact an "explosion" might be an understatement--I received nearly seven hundred hits per day, Thursday and Friday. Thanks to all who linked and commented.

I am mulling an omnibus response, but it's back-burnered behind a report on the Catholic Men's conference I attended on Saturday, and a long overdue fisking on an abortion article, both of which will be forthcoming.

That Jesus movie knocked for its use of language.

No, no, the other one: The Gospel of John. In a basically positive review, James Bowman makes several good points about modern bible translations, noting they have lost their divine thunder.

For me, the movie never entirely escapes from being an illustration of what I don’t like about the [Good News] translation: its casualness and informality which, in an attempt to be "contemporary" can only succeed in making the most solemn and timeless of human stories sound dated, trivial and unreal. We know already that Galilean peasants in the first century A.D. did not talk, or think, as we do, and the attempt to portray them as doing so tends to create a sense of falseness and unreality about that which we are being asked to treat as the central event in human history.

As one who is old enough still to have the language of the Authorized or King James Version of the English Bible rattling around in my head, I believe that such older translations with their deliberate archaisms avoided this problem by preserving what linguists call the "sacral register" of the gospels, as of the liturgy. By respecting our intuitive understanding that the events they describe took place in a world very different from our own — just as they are intended to point us on our way to a world even more different — they help to preserve the mystery of faith and thus pose less of a challenge to our natural skepticism about events so remarkable.

The House Divided.

The varying Catholic responses to the Gibson film are noted here, though for my money, the Diocese of Cleveland easily takes the Namby-Pamby Award, in full retreat from an opportunity that comes but once. Fortunately, the evangelicals will be there to pick up the ball and run with it.

And likely run with more than a few soon-to-be-ex-Catholics as well. Which, under the circumstances, might not be such a bad thing.

Of course, none of the Catholic discord should be in the least bit surprising. Then again, that could just be the fundamentalist exegesis speaking.

Fathers, Sons and the Faith of Our Fathers.


The event was memorable because it shouldn't be. I was in sixth grade, and was standing outside (under as much shelter as I could find) with my buddy Jeff after school let out. I was not remotely looking forward to walking the five required blocks to get home, and I didn't have a ride. It was a blustery November day, which in Michigan can be borderline lacerating, especially when it rains.

Partway into my "hope the weather changes" routine, Jeff's aunt pulled up--his ride had arrived. Jeff bounded up to the car, and asked his aunt if she could drop me off at home, too. Sure, I was out of the way, but in my small rural hometown, distance is a very relative term--Alma lines up at around three miles wide at its "longest" point--and that estimate may be very generous. In other words, I was not that far out of the way.

Jeff came back, somewhat bemused, and gave a thumbs up. Hallelujah--spared from the elements! I made sure to thank her profusely after she dropped me off.

I really didn't notice it at the time, as I was distracted by my efforts to present a smaller target for the gusts, but Jeff took rather longer to get approval than would normally be the case. Later, he told me why: she'd reacted with some hostility to my name.

You see, I'm Dale Jr. Jeff's aunt worked for the same employer as my dad, Dale Sr. Not to put to fine a point on it, she (and many others in the same building) despised my dad--basically regarded him as Idi Amin without the culinary insights. And for that, she was willing to let one of her nephew's friends cool his heels in a frigid drizzle rather than give him a ride. Fortunately, Jeff prevailed upon the better angels of her nature and she relented.

Jeff only told me this months after the fact--after his aunt had gotten to know me, and seen maybe that her Idi figure was at least was a father who could raise a well-mannered (well, OK, for the most part) kid. And, after her initial consternation, we got along fine. During the summers, Jeff and I would semi-regularly come by to gaze in awe at the nicely-restored orange Corvette in her driveway.

She even let me sit in it.

Over the years, I learned (second- and third-hand) that her opinion was not isolated. Others at that worksite (and from his previous stint as a grocery store manager) griped about what a grim, uncompromising and unrelenting hardass Dad was on the job. Perhaps very significantly, I didn't hear the same--even as hearsay--from Dad's fellow firemen (Dad was a volunteer firefighter for 32 years, retiring as Chief).

The point of all of this is that I could never reconcile the criticisms I heard with the man I know, love and revere.

The man who poured himself out to support his wife and sons, to the point of needing a quadruple bypass. The man who worked himself out of poverty to retire at 54 at the peak of his professions. The man who made sure he was at every single football game both his sons suited up for--even--especially--when there was zero chance they'd play. The man who waits with his hand on the phone on Saturday afternoons when the Wolverines win, knowing he's going to talk with his boy about Lloyd's Boys. The man who lives for Opening Day, so he can spend the weekend with his flesh and blood. The man who never seems more delighted than when he gets swarmed under by hugs and chants of "Papa! Papa!" when his grandkids visit. The man who was always there for his eccentric eldest son and namesake, who seemed to take forever to get his life in gear. The man who was utterly stricken when he parted from his younger son, going off to war.

Yes, that was a prologue: I don't want to hear my dad's a jerk. Others don't know him. Not even a little. Tarted-up and trotted-out tales of workaday woe will gain no traction with me. At best, they see a--a--public face--and the impression is decidedly limited, distorted and unfair, at that.

All of which, I think, gives a key to unlocking Mel's Passion. It can be found in this phrase:

"Got to let it go, Diane."

Remember it from the Sawyer interview? The nerves, the coffee-gulping manic-ness--all of it--vanished in a crystalline instant. Gibson was speaking about the coverage of his father, Hutton, by the NY Times and other media outlets. In a moment, Gibson's tone became grim, flat, and gunmetal cold.

It was then that Gibson's determination about his film became clear. Yes, it's personal--only his hands appear in the film, driving in the nails. Yes, he fell at the foot of Golgotha in the blackest hour of his despair.

But I think he only knew to fall there because it was the faith he was raised with--the faith of his father. None of this is to remotely defend Hutton Gibson's many idiotic-to-hideous views. Even his son put no small distance between himself and those views in the interview, however cagey and sotto voce the effort.

Unlike us, Mel has seen the non-public face of his father. The man who somehow managed to raise eleven kids on a disability pension and a one-shot Jeopardy jackpot. The man who likely performed other kindnesses for his family and others that we will never hear about, and who handed on some semblance of the Catholic* faith to his loving and fiercely-loyal son.

When the abyssal night closed in, and he was one short step from the window to the concrete, he fell back on the faith he had learned at his father's knees--and clearly, not all of that was lunatic ranting about crematoriums and Jewish conspiracies. I mean, it's pretty clear that Mel didn't step back because he found a copy of Gather Faithfully Together or was invited to the annual Religious Education Conference, complete with its "Jazz Liturgies." As others have noted, if either of those two things had happened, he may have decided to try out pavement spelunking, instead of just contemplating it.

When all was said and done, he reverted to his cradle faith, and was healed by it. I think he regards it as an inheritance, and the film as a profoundly personal expression of it. Which is why he has been so monumentally immovable about changes to it, and hostile about the coverage of his father--the two are linked. Perhaps, by this point, inseparable.

In that, I think he's not alone. How many Catholics have held onto and express their faith in terms of heritage and inheritance? I know more than a few.

TPOTC is far more complex and personal than both supporters and critics of the film have realized.

--------------------------
* Footnote: I know, I know, I know--sedevacantism is not orthodox Catholicism. Please note the careful use of the qualifier "semblance." Thank you. That is all.

Blogging will re-commence shortly.

Although expect it to be scattershot, given that the funeral is Friday and 2.5 hours away, and we have some preparations to make--work-related and otherwise.

Thank you for your continued prayers.

Don Miller died this morning at around 10:30 a.m. All of his immediate family made it home to see him before the end. I think he was holding on for that opportunity.

Prayers are still welcome.

Prayer Request.

I saw my brother yesterday, which would normally be a good thing. Actually, it was still a good thing, but the reason he's here is not. He received emergency leave from his mobilizing Guard unit to return, with his family, to visit his father in law, Don. I picked up the entire family at the airport and drove them up to Alma yesterday.

Don, after a long battle with cancer--a fight he was expected to lose early last year--is in his last days. Don was also my high school principal, a good man and a devout Catholic. Prayers for him, his wife and children, as well as my niece and nephew, who have to see their beloved "Bumpa" with tubes and a shadow of his former self.

Methinks I'm going to get a scolding from more "ecumenical" quarters for this, but I don't much care.

Try as I might, I don't have a big problem with what the SSPX protesters did at the Basilica of St. Adalbert in Grand Rapids yesterday. OK--I didn't try really hard, but that's neither here nor there.

Three caveats: First, I truly feel sorry for the Buddhist monks, innocent and doubtless well-meaning men who had no clue about why what they were doing was wrong and suddenly found themselves in the middle of no-man's land.

Second, I don't believe that Bishop Kevin Britt is the antichrist's caddy for permitting the Buddhists to visit in some capacity. From what I hear, he's a decent fellow who did good yeoman's work back here in the Detroit archdiocese. Remember, he just became the sole bishop for GR after a stint as co-adjutor.

Finally, I am fully aware of the problems with the Society, and I do not endorse it. I find a lot (but not all) of the culture and theology of the SSPX unreasonable, repellent or worse--especially the rampant hatred of Jews. See, e.g., Williamson, Bishop Richard. That said, I think a lot of decent Catholics go past their breaking point and end up in the Society for reasons which are far from repellent.

[Sound of Qualifier Roaring in at Mach 5]

But, consider this:

Either way, the sound [of the Rosary] was so loud and so distracting, the Tibetan monks didn't get to perform at the altar.

For the love of Mary, did the monks have to pray at the altar?

Really?

Really?

REALLY?

The correct answer is: "No, of course not." What about the Basilica parish hall? The diocesan conference center? It's pretty clear the monks don't need to be on someone else's sacred ground to display their faith. After all, they went to Grand Valley State University for another service this morning. GVSU has a world-beater of a Division II football team, but it is not exactly holy ground. Even to alums.

Look at it this way: we don't let RCIA members approach the altar for the Body and Blood until eight months of preparation have been completed, and the proper initiatory sacraments received. The altar of communion is otherwise closed to non-Catholics--excluding rare exceptions. We expect the faithful to bow to the altar, and genuflect before the tabernacle, all out of respect for He who re-presents Himself on our behalf. Why should anyone else get a free pass?

Then there's the...oddity...of this ceremony taking place over the relics of a martyr who died rather than compromise his faith. Someone--probably several someones--knew or should have known better.

Bluntly, with regard to the Diocese invoking Assisi--that dog won't hunt. Putting aside my own misgivings (here's a worthy defense of Assisi), even that gathering imposed limits on worship, such as the incident where Buddhists tried to pray at the Cathedral altar:

The incident of Buddhists erecting an idol on the altar in the Cathedral occurred spontaneouly and without permission. The tabernacle was not removed as some have said. In most European cathedrals, there never has been a tabernacle on the main altar. When the Franciscans found out what was happening, they immediately informed the Buddhists that this was not acceptable and the Buddhists apologized and withdrew to another location off Church grounds for their worship.

Nope. No excuses. I'm not saying Catholics and Buddhists shouldn't talk. But it's clear that the dialogue was all one way here, and someone refused to explain to the Buddhists the potential for sacriliege (what other word is there) and scandal, as the Franciscans did at Assisi. So the demonstrators did instead. Good thing someone did--especially since the "contact the priest first" attempt to address it was shrugged off.

For what it's worth, my theory is that the problem originates with the staff at the Basilica. Go to the Basilica's website, then click on "Positive Living." All the Ennegram, Confucianism, Eugene Kennedy and Harold Kushner "God is impotent" theology you can stand.

The enneagram. Good Lord: how dated is that? In addition to being occult twaddle, it's so late-'80s-Jesuit-Retreat.