From The Professor: On the Topics of Faith, Scandals, and Communion

from letter # 250, To Michael Tolkien:

You speak of 'sagging faith', however. That is quite another matter. In the last resort faith is an act of will, inspired by love. Our love may be chilled and our will eroded by the spectacle of the shortcomings, folly, and even sins of the Church and its ministers, but I do not think one who has once had faith goes back over the line for these reasons (least of all anyone with historical knowledge). 'Scandal' at most is an occasion of temptation--as indecency is to lust, which it does not make but arouses. It is convenient because it tends to turn our eyes away from ourselves and our own faults to find a scape-goat. But the act of will of faith is not a single moment of final decision: it is a permanent indefinitely repeated act > state which must go on--so we pray for 'final perseverance'. The temptation to 'unbelief' (which really means rejection of Our Lord and His claims) is always there with us. The stronger the inner temptation the more readily and severely we shall be 'scandalized' by others. I think I am as sensitive as you (or any other Christian) to the 'scandals', both of clergy and laity. I have suffered grievously in my life from stupid, tired, dimmed, and even bad priests; but I now know enough about myself to be aware that I should not leave the Church (which would mean leaving the allegiance of Our Lord) for any such reasons: I should leave because I did not believe, and should not believe any more, even if I had never met any one in orders who was not both wise and saintly. I should deny the Blessed Sacrament, that is: call Our Lord a fraud to His face.

[...]

The only cure for sagging of fainting faith is Communion. Though always Itself, perfect, complete, and inviolate, the Blessed Sacrament does not operate completely or once for all in any of us. Like the act of Faith it must be continuous and grow by exercise. Frequency is of the highest effect. Seven times a week is more nourishing than seven times at intervals. Also I can recommend this as an exercise (alas! only too easy to find opportunity for): make your communion in circumstances that affront your taste. Choose a snuffling or gabbling priest or a proud and vulgar friar; and a church full of the usual bourgeois crowd, ill-behaved children--from whose who yell to those products of Catholic schools who the moment the tabernacle is opened sit back and yawn--open necked and dirty youths, women in trousers and often with hair both unkempt and uncovered. Go to Communion with them (and pray for them). It will be just the same (or better than) a mass said beautifully by a visibly holy man, and shared by a few devout and decorous people. (It could not be worse than the mess of the feeding of the Five Thousand -- after which Our Lord propounded the feeding that was to come.)

-J. R. R. Tolkien, 1963.

Of Alcohol and Altar Boys

So, I have really not had much in the way of alcohol in a while. I used to be a moderate to heavy drinker, but in recent years, it has lost its appeal. I might enjoy the occasional evening glass of wine or beer, and while I keep liquor on hand, I hardly ever drink it anymore. I credit the fact that I have replaced an unhealthy fixation with something of a better one--that of the struggle for living a Christian life (which, more often than not, I fail miserably at...).

Nevertheless, with my current deluge of altar boys, I may have to start drinking again.

Let me back up and give the full story. For the better part of the last year, I have done altar service at every church service my parish has had, and through most of them I've done it completely and totally alone. Me and Fr. D--that's it. Father's two older grandsons (9 and 6/7), during that time, would occasionally serve. His son in law (the boys' father), who is also a Reader, would serve when we had a second Reader; we no longer have a second Reader in our parish, so he now has to resume those duties at every service. So, I said, "God, please send me some help back here" most Sundays during Divine Liturgy.

Gospodi Pomiluj! God works in mysterious ways. Not two weeks after we moved into our new facility, we had a Greek family begin coming to our parish--and they have two boys (15 and 13). They have never served before, as their previous Greek parish was so large that the boys never had an opportunity to serve. Their mother is very devout, and wants the boys to learn to serve at the altar, so, I got two new altar boys. This, of course, led my other two part-timers (9 and 6/7) to want to serve every week, because the other boys are serving every week. So, in a short period of time, I've gone from just me, to having enough boys for full processions.

Well, it didn't take me long to realize that, as a new covert who has done a lot of work to try to 'get it right' when serving (1 year crash course!), I still get it wrong. Also, in this crash course, I've been serving alone--so I'm lost on some of the finer points of full processions, never having actually done one. Compounded with this, I have a 7 year old who wants my constant attention, a 9 year old who pays more attention to the contents of his nasal passages than the liturgy, a 13 year old who really wants to learn everything and so watches me like a hawk (oh man! if he only knew!), and a 15 year old who is not really into it and seems to be serving just to please his mom.

Now, our temporary chapel has no iconostasis, so everything we're doing at the altar can be seen (and heard--it's a small space), so it's not easy to give instruction and help the boys figure things out--because I'm very aware that we're being distracting. Plus I have my trusty liturgy book, which is marked for CANDLES, CENSOR, FANS, etc at the appropriate places. It's my security blanket; without it, I would probably still know what to do, but I would freak out and mess up. So, Sunday, the 6 year old, who has a book identical to mine, grabbed my book and went to the other side of the altar, and I had his. So, I'm just going through, and I missed the first cue for the censor. I instantly knew what was wrong. I got it fixed, but then, once I make one mistake, I make another and another. It's the stress.

So, I'm herding this troupe of cats back behind the altar, trying to stay out of Father's way, trying not to distract the people by drawing attention to me/us during the liturgy...and all of the sudden, as we're praying the anaphora prayers, I wonder: why did I want help again?

The it hits me: This is to teach you patience and humility.

I can't say I "heard" it. I was focused on looking at the Chalice, and I just...had this impression that came completely from outside me, clear, distinct, and undeniable. This is to teach me patience and humility. Humility to accept correction when I am doing things wrong in the service, and when the boys whom I am directing make mistakes as well. Humility, to accept the responsibility for their actions, and patience to teach them what they're supposed to do.

In the long run, I don't need to drink to deal with the stress; I'm fully aware of that. And I'm not going to. But I know that some things must be done, and I am far from perfect, and am generally unwilling to do many things for my own salvation. Therefore, the Lord has taken over, and has given me exactly what I have been asking for: help serving and ways to improve my spiritual condition.

So now, I'm praying: Lord, give me the strength to accept the help Thou art giving me!