On Government, Vance, Faith, and Culture

RE: JD Vance is Worried, by Carlos Lozada The New York Times, July 7, 2026

https://nyti.ms/44B4zYx

It's true that Christianity, and Catholicism in particular, have a cultural base, going back to the Spanish missionaries and the Irish schooling that dominated private education and set the tone for millions of adherents and their children. The mystery of the Latin Mass and the fondling of beads in front of statues of devotion affirmed a truly mystical world vision of the "right" faith. But that diverges in a hard turn away from faith and spirituality. Like his boss, Vance seems to be enamored by the cultural mystique of the Christian Right, dragging us back into a time that no longer exists, complete with trad wives and tribes of a dozen kids that no one can afford in the economy we currently spend in.

There is indeed a harshness in our moral climate now, but Vance is planted in that with both feet. Despite what might be his personal misgivings, he appears more than eager to invalidate his moral sense by the chance to rise in power and prestige, the things that, more than anything, will lay claim to his soul, despite Archangel Michael. Mr. Vance apparently believes he has converted to a Church from 1955, hoping his accumulating indulgences will save Western society and his place in it. But life moves on, and so the Church. Vatican II gave us new, familiar language to pray in, and new ways of living our faith, and it sends us on a mission of ecumenism, where every faith vision has value, and cultures change, as the Church has learned through the Spirit.

Where the Spirit Takes Us

Open the Windows…

I always find it interesting when people pick and choose where to cast their net for what strikes their soul. Vatican II is openly denigrated now as the place where loose and flexible morality had its start and the "real" Church disappeared. Gone are the days of "opening windows" to Spirit moving, replaced by the need for rules and some connection to the Middle Ages with "traditional" liturgies and the overwhelming clouds of incense. Far be it that the Church reminds us that Vatican II is not an aberrant period, but as much a part of the development of doctrine as other historical venues. As in all areas of life now, people are searching for someone or some institution to tell them how to live. The freedom to explore and respond to the ways of the Spirit is hardly understood now, and people are thumbing through well-worn pages of their catechisms to tell them what kind of person to be. The windows are still open, and the Spirit is still moving, but there are far too many ready to bring out the plywood to prepare for the storm they seem to almost want to come.

On Care Ending

I was the caregiver for my Mom for nine years prior to her passing this past February.

She was ninety-five years old. And before you, like every hospital nurse and doctor say with that time-to-go swagger, “Well…she is ninety-five!”, age doesn’t make the pain less important or the loss less evident. When you lose someone you have physically cared for you not only lose that person but you lose the job that consumed you, the routines you gave yourself to, the tasks, however unpleasant, that you learned to do because no one else was there to do them, because that is what caring is.

I was lost. In the moment of the last breath, I had become a phantom ship at sea, knowing how to steer but with no longer any clue which course to sail. I turned to the words of Thomas Jefferson writing to his good friend, John Adams, on the passing of his wife Abigail:

"I know well, and feel what you have lost, what you have suffered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine."

The work of caring for another is sacred work. It's not something you can learn by watching, and takes far more than a few days. I often found my life was monk-like, in isolation, but it’s in the mundane unpleasant moments where you find the holiness. There is nothing in life as important as accompanying someone in care. Nothing. It challenges faith, and sometimes creates false hope, but as St. Paul would say, it is the love that is created that is the greatest of these.

With Jefferson’s words as my lighthouse, I made my way north to Gloucester, MA, to retreat with the Jesuits, where I sat in sacred silence for 8 days. Silence, as Jefferson knew, was the only balm and the only healing prescription. Applied liberally over time you can again gain control of the rudder, can begin to see through the fog, and make your way, carefully, back to port. And whenever you arrive, there are no timetables, you will know you have been changed, and that the work of life IS work, and that it begins again.

Retreat to the silence - Arrival

This is my first day at Eastern Point Retreat House in Gloucester, MA.  A  Jesuit run location, and like many older Jesuit houses it was an old estate in a beautiful location right on the ocean, surrounding it, a pristine setting, and many fabulous homes, which were certainly not here when this house was built. I arrived to stay 8 days in silence, a modified version of the Spiritual Exercises that is 30 days in its long form. 

I misjudged my travel, figuring it would take a bit under 4 hours, and indeed, it took over 4 1/2.  The travel through Connecticut was nasty, lots of stop and go, while crossing into Massachusetts brought nicer highways with easier flow.   No wonder the people of MA led the revolution!

I got the flow of the place quickly, which indeed is wonderful, when I arrived.  Having been on silent retreats before I knew the protocol.  No talking after the first meal, all other times in silence.  Meeting someone in the hallway is a head nod with a soft, "hello" or smile.  No chit-chat, no humming to yourself, everything relaxed and gentle from the start. 

Having not eaten, and the dining room closed, I hunted down an apple juice and peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the dining area.  After that, I met for 15 minutes with my spiritual director for the week, Philomena.  She's got a gentle West Indian accent, exactly where from I can't tell at the moment. She will help guide me through this week. At sign up online you give a brief bio of yourself, and why you are coming here, in this place, at this time.  Philomena was prepared, had read the narrative, and was able to connect right away.  After a bit of clarification, she offered her first piece of guidance.  Rest.  No thinking, no reading, no plans.

Rest.

Tonight.  

I can tell this is the place I need to be now. I needed a vacation but felt so uncomfortable going somewhere, alone, to sit on a beach and eating by myself, forcing the relaxation. Here, I could feel immediately the connection to stillness. There are minimal plans, and each person is on their own journey and has their own reason for being here. For me, I will take each day as it unfolds; I will abide by the first words of guidance. I will rest, because I can feel the exhaustion in me, with all the pressure and deadlines and the to-do's that have developed since Mom's passing only 6 weeks ago.  The exhaustion I cling to with no idea where I was going or what to really do next. So yes, rest is the agenda, as I can barely keep my eyes open and want to go to bed. It’s 8:30 pm.

Thoughts in the Laundry

Thoughts in the Laundry

I have been working the spot on this goddamn shirt for the last half hour. What happened to all those "miracle" detergents, the ones that promise to make everything new again?  It is my favorite, and longest lasting shirt, the kind  that gives you a smile when you take it out of the trunk at seasons change and is with you at those unique life times that appear so unexpectedly, messed up with life's sloppiness but somehow resurrecting itself with water, soap, and a spin cycle.

Sometimes though, you reach the point when things just can't be repaired with a quick rinse. Life fades things after too many washes.  I really hate when things get ruined like that.  So suddenly, like that relationship that started all fresh and clean, right out of the package new, survived for years, and now desperately clings to the edge like a novice high wire act; the dying connection that gifted me with this still bloody nose in what seems to be a fatal personhood crash.

You can work hard and try to save things, scrub them until the material is almost worn through,  but sometimes you're better off learning when and how to let them go. Even a favorite shirt knows when it's time to stop going along for the ride and start a new life serving as a rag.  A step down, yes, but still clinging to existence, remembering the times when friends said, "Is that new?  It looks good on you!"

Sometimes it's best to know when the stain will no longer come out.

Transformation

My friends,

I hear a lot about transformation, how we need to transform ourselves into something or someone else, transform others from their current dark path of addiction or abuse, transform our political or corporate workplace process, or perhaps our life situations. 

Jesus transformed himself, literally in the Transfiguration, showing us his connection to the Spirit with the manifestation of other prophets as well as his connection to the Father as a sign of validation.  He called for us to continually transform our lives and that of the people around us by following him.

I have begun to understand that transformation is not some event, although there are certainly transformational events in life, or transformational people who do great or inspiring things.  Transformation is all around us, in the seasons, in the death/rebirth cycle of nature, in our own nature as we stare in the mirror and see another wrinkle, or the age our parents once were and pass beyond.

transformation.jpg

Transformation is a continual process of engagement and connection, of renewal, of casting aside old skins. Transformation happens, it's necessary, it's around us constantly and we can't escape it.   We learn from transformation and the things we learn we want to hold on to but, at the same time, the things we learn are transient and themselves changing. 

Our job is to be quiet, recognize the silence of transition, the changes in our very cells/selves, and to be in this moment, recognizing who we are at this moment.  It's in these times we learn that we ARE this very moment of change and are moving forward to universal fulfillment. And we are in this together! As Teilhard de Chardin says, “Everything that rises must converge”.

I’ll see you at the top. Peace and good things to you!

Darius

Random Thoughts, Excellent Adventures, Deep Pondering, and General Complaints