Tuesday, May 19, 2026

Smoke in this Life not the Next

Tue, May 19 – Tuesday Reflection
Virtue: Calling & Belonging
Cigar: Corojo — balanced, chosen
Bourbon: Woodinville — rich, steady
Line: “Where am I placed in grace?”

Purgatory is fire, not metaphor.
Some of the people we love are there now — burning, longing, unable to pray for themselves.
They wait on us.

And this is where the Our Father cuts straight through a man’s excuses:

“Thy will be done.”

Not someday.
Not after death.
Now.

If God’s will is purification, then the wise man begins it here.
If God’s will is mercy for the dead, then the faithful man intercedes now.
If God’s will is belonging, then a man stands where grace has placed him and acts.

Hallowtide reminds us:
remember your dead,
pray for their release,
ask God to finish in them what they can no longer ask for.

Smoke in this life, not the next.

Introduction to 2 Samuel[1]

Many moons ago, in a time of great darkness, Madonna said that she was "a material girl in a material world"… And, many moons before that, King David was a Deuteronomistic guy in a Deutoronomistic world. That might sound kind of complicated—but it just means that the same editors involved in putting together the Book of Deuteronomy also put together the group of books that includes 2 Samuel, running from the book of Judges to 2 Kings. For the story of 2 Samuel is part of what we commonly call the "Deuteronomistic History" and David is just one teeny part of it. But here's the thing. When we say "history," we're using that term pretty loosely. It's hard to tell what extent 2 Samuel (and 1 Samuel, since they were originally one work) is hard history or legend or the exaggeration of real events or a crazy mixture of all these. For many true believers, naturally, it's going to be history all the way. Yet it's easy to interpret the Biblical writers' account of David's life as being perhaps a bit whitewashed. See, for the most part, in their eyes, David can do no wrong. But yet certain unsavory facts about his life are too big for the authors to omit: particularly David seducing the wife (Bathsheba) of one of his generals, and then having that general murdered.

The authors don't attempt to justify this at all—it's way bad—and it might make the reader see a more complicated picture of David in other situations, like when the writers keep insisting he had nothing to do with the death of another general, Abner. So, if you wanted to, you could easily see the whole book as an example of pro-David propaganda, trying to justify his legacy as God's one beloved king. But that wouldn't really do justice to the book as a whole. It gives a pretty thorough picture of Israelite kingship as an institution—how it works, how kings maintain power. It's a fascinating glimpse into the way people in the ancient Near East viewed at least some of their kings: as people both divinely guided and humanly flawed.

In the period of time depicted in the book, the Israelites were wrestling with the transition from being ruled by Judges like Samuel—with God as the only true king and creator of laws—to being ruled by a human king (who was still considered to be divinely guided).

This was sort of like having a Supreme Court but no President (except for God). And yeah, this could get kind of confusing and messy… But to be fair, so could being ruled by a king, as evidenced by the reign of Saul in 1 Samuel. What 2 Samuel does, then, is to tell the story of a king who managed to pull himself together and rule in the right way.

Why Should I Care?

How do you manage to seduce one of your general's wives, orchestrate that same general's death in battle, refuse to punish your first-born son for committing a heinous crime against his own sister—and still wind up with a reputation for being the greatest of all Israelite kings, and God's prize favorite?

The book of 2 Samuel may or may not answer that question for you—but it'll help you take a good, hard look at the life of the character who did all of the above: King David. Of course, David did a lot besides those rather dubious and devious actions. There's heroism, tragedy, plain bad luck, and moments of sublime goodness in his story, as well.

Also, he's a smooth operator. Even when he's doing something wrong or questionable, David remains totally human—flawed, but recognizably one of us. In a way, the dark patches in David's life are what help make him one of the very most intriguing and compelling people in the Bible as a whole. After God and Moses, David is arguably the most important character in the Hebrew Bible (most people would probably agree that he's the third-most-central figure.) Even though the book has a huge and interesting supporting cast, the Second Book of Samuel really is all about David, the heart of the story. What King Arthur is to Great Britain, and Caesar Augustus is to Ancient Rome, and Luke Skywalker is to Tatooine, King David is to Israel. He's the model hero, the best example of how to do it right (despite the serious things he does wrong).

"We Can Be Heroes" (to Quote David Bowie)

That's fine, and David might be an interesting guy—but what does the book have to do with life today? Well, since people throughout the world have been reading the Bible for a while, it's shaped the kind of hero’s people look for and write about. Heroes from other books and other cultures demonstrate heroism in different ways—like Odysseus in the Odyssey, they might be crafty warriors trying to outwit the gods and make it home. Or, like King Rama from Hindu myth, they might be gods themselves, fighting for truth and righteousness against demonic powers. But the important thing to remember is that David is a human—a human who is trying to live according to a higher law, and serve his God's purposes, sure—but a human, nonetheless. True, Odysseus is a human, too, but his goals are also all typically human, related to getting back to his kingdom, seeing his wife and son, and regaining power. David's concerned with his personal power, too, but he has to balance that with what he believes God wants. His goals are both human and divine.

This ends up being a pretty tricky tight rope to walk, and watching David walk it, wavering between his own selfish ambitions and this higher cause, is part of the value and fun of 2 Samuel. Life actually imitates art pretty often. People mimic the heroes they see on TV or in the movies or read about in Newsweek or wherever (there's recently been an increase in people who are imitating superheroes by wearing underwear over leotards and trying to hit criminals with nun-chucks). Since David is one of the most widely read characters in the history of the world, the story of his reign (which begins when 2 Samuel starts) can help give us a better idea of what we actually think about heroes and leaders—what we expect from them, what qualities they have.

That's not just important for understanding the heroes we see depicted around us everyday—it's also a useful way to understand ourselves, to see how we measure up, and to define our own ideas of true heroism.

MAY 19 Tuesday of the Seventh Week of Easter

St. Dunstan-Pentecost Novena

2 Samuel, Chapter 1, Verse 14

David said to him, “How is it that you were not AFRAID to put forth your hand to desecrate the LORD’s anointed?

The lesson here is, do not be a person who seeks to gain from another’s misfortune.

Cue up the Sad Violins[2]

As 2 Samuel begins, Saul and Jonathan have just died fighting the Philistines—David almost fought for the Philistines, but ended up getting excused at the last second, and headed off to fight the Amalekites.

Saul had committed suicide after seeing his defeat was inevitable (with, as it turns out, a little help), and Jonathan was killed in the battle.

A survivor from Saul's army finds David and tells him the news. It turns out the survivor was an Amalekite who (at Saul's request) helped Saul finish dying, giving him a fatal sword thrust, before bringing Saul's crown and armlet to David.

However, David is offended that this guy had the guts to help kill the Lord's anointed, so he has one of his own men kill the Amalekite.

Singing the Blues

Then, David sings the blues. In a song, he laments the deaths of Saul and Jonathan, singing, "How the mighty have fallen!"

He hails them both, paying tribute to their strength and good qualities, and telling the rest of Israel to weep for them in mourning.

He also says that Jonathan's love for him was "wonderful, passing the love of a woman," before repeating again, "How the mighty have fallen."

Honor God’s Anointed[3]

It appears that the Amalekite was trying to get a reward for killing the enemy of David (Saul). Everyone in the nation knew that Saul and David were at odds and that Saul was trying to kill David. When he stumbled onto the body of Saul, he thought that he had hit the jackpot. Instead of telling the truth about what he found he lied to David with the hope of getting gain. David was faultless in killing him because the man told David that he had killed the Lords anointed. In David’s eye that was a serious crime and the man brought it on himself. Notice and verse 14 of second Samuel he says "How wast thou not afraid to stretch forth thine hand to destroy the Lords anointed?" and in verse 16, "And David said unto him, thy blood be on thy upon thy head; for thy mouth hath testified against thee, saying I have slain the Lords anointed." Even though he did not kill Saul he lied in hopes of being rewarded and he was, just not in the way he thought though. The wages of sin is death.

Copilot’s Take

David’s response to the Amalekite is one of the clearest biblical portraits of a man who refuses to let evil shape his destiny. The Amalekite arrives expecting reward, assuming David will celebrate the fall of his enemy. Instead, David recoils in horror. He sees not opportunity but sacrilege. The man has boasted of striking the Lord’s anointed, and David will not allow his kingdom to be built on treachery, lies, or the exploitation of another’s ruin. This is the first lesson: the righteous do not profit from misfortune, and they do not advance by stepping on the fallen.

The Catechism echoes this moral architecture. Authority, even when flawed, participates in God’s order, and the heart must be guarded from hatred, vengeance, and deceit. The Amalekite violated all of these. He lied to gain advantage. He manipulated tragedy for personal benefit. He assumed that David—like so many leaders—would reward cunning over character. But David’s judgment is swift because the man’s sin is not merely political; it is spiritual. He has touched what God consecrated, and he has done so with a heart bent toward self‑gain.

David’s restraint is not weakness but obedience. He refuses to seize what God has not yet given. He refuses to let ambition override reverence. He refuses to let someone else’s sin become the foundation of his blessing. In a world that rewards opportunism, David stands as a rebuke to every shortcut, every compromise, every temptation to “win” by unrighteous means. He shows that doing the will of God often means refusing the easy path, even when that path seems to lead directly to the throne.

Then comes the lament. David grieves Saul—the man who hunted him. He grieves Jonathan—the man who loved him. He grieves Israel’s loss—even though it clears his path to kingship. This is the heart of a man after God’s own heart: able to honor the fallen, able to mourn an enemy, able to see the image of God even in those who opposed him. His cry, “How the mighty have fallen,” is not political theater. It is the sound of a soul that refuses to let conflict erase compassion.

The non‑obvious insight is this: the Amalekite’s fatal mistake was not killing Saul; it was assuming David was like Saul. Evil always misreads the righteous. It cannot imagine a man who fears God more than opportunity. It cannot imagine a leader who refuses to profit from another’s fall. It cannot imagine a heart that values holiness over advantage. David’s greatness is not military—it is moral. He confronts evil not by mirroring it but by rejecting its logic entirely.

To confront evil and do the will of God today is to follow this same pattern: purity of motive, fidelity to God’s timing, and integrity in judgment. It is to refuse shortcuts, refuse deceit, refuse the temptation to gain by another’s misfortune. It is to honor what God has anointed, even when that anointed vessel is flawed. And it is to let righteousness, not ambition, determine the path forward.

St. Dunstan-Do you have a lucky horseshoe

Dunstan (909 – 19 May 988) was an abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, a bishop of Worcester, a bishop of London, and an archbishop of Canterbury, later canonized as a saint. His work restored monastic life in England and reformed the English Church. His 11th-century biographer, Osbern, himself an artist and scribe, states that Dunstan was skilled in “making a picture and forming letters,” as were other clergy of his age who reached senior rank.

Dunstan served as an important minister of state to several English kings. He was the most popular saint in England for nearly two centuries, having gained fame for the many stories of his greatness, not least among which were those concerning his famed cunning in defeating the Devil.

Dunstan playing his harp as the devil visits

English literature contains many references to him, for example in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and in this folk rhyme:

St Dunstan, as the story goes,
Once pull’d the devil by the nose
With red-hot tongs, which made him roar,

That he was heard three miles or more.

Another story relates how Dunstan nailed a horseshoe to the Devil’s hoof when he was asked to re-shoe the Devil’s horse. This caused the Devil great pain, and Dunstan only agreed to remove the shoe and release the Devil after he promised never to enter a place where a horseshoe is over the door. This is claimed as the origin of the lucky horseshoe.

Pentecost Novena Day Five: Tuesday, 7th Week of Easter

Light immortal! Light Divine! Visit Thou these hearts of Thine, And our inmost being fill!

The Gift of Knowledge

The gift of Knowledge enables the soul to evaluate created things at their true worth--in their relation to God. Knowledge unmasks the pretense of creatures, reveals their emptiness, and points out their only true purpose as instruments in the service of God. It shows us the loving care of God even in adversity, and directs us to glorify Him in every circumstance of life. Guided by its light, we put first things first, and prize the friendship of God beyond all else. 'Knowledge is a fountain of life to him that possesseth it.'

Prayer

Come, O Blessed Spirit of Knowledge, and grant that I may perceive the will of the Father; show me the nothingness of earthly things, that I may realize their vanity and use them only for Thy glory and my own salvation, looking ever beyond them to Thee, and Thy eternal rewards. Amen.

Our Father and Hail Mary once
Glory be to the Father SEVEN TIMES

ACT OF CONSECRATION TO THE HOLY SPIRIT
On my knees before the great multitude of heavenly witnesses, I offer myself, soul and body to You, Eternal Spirit of God. I adore the brightness of Your purity, the unerring keenness of Your justice, and the might of Your love. You are the Strength and Light of my soul. In You I live and move and am. I desire never to grieve You by unfaithfulness to grace and I pray with all my heart to be kept from the smallest sin against You. Mercifully guard my every thought and grant that I may always watch for Your light, and listen to Your voice, and follow Your gracious inspirations. I cling to You and give myself to You and ask You, by Your compassion to watch over me in my weakness. Holding the pierced Feet of Jesus and looking at His Five Wounds, and trusting in His Precious Blood and adoring His opened Side and stricken Heart, I implore You, Adorable Spirit, Helper of my infirmity, to keep me in Your grace that I may never sin against You. Give me grace, O Holy Spirit, Spirit of the Father and the Son to say to You always and everywhere, 'Speak Lord for Your servant heareth.' Amen.

PRAYER FOR THE SEVEN GIFTS OF THE HOLY SPIRIT

O Lord Jesus Christ, Who, before ascending into heaven, did promise to send the Holy Spirit to finish Your work in the souls of Your Apostles and Disciples, deign to grant the same Holy Spirit to me that He may perfect in my soul, the work of Your grace and Your love. Grant me the Spirit of Wisdom that I may despise the perishable things of this world and aspire only after the things that are eternal, the Spirit of Understanding to enlighten my mind with the light of Your divine truth, the Spirit of Counsel that I may ever choose the surest way of pleasing God and gaining heaven, the Spirit of Fortitude that I may bear my cross with You and that I may overcome with courage all the obstacles that oppose my salvation, the Spirit of Knowledge that I may know God and know myself and grow perfect in the science of the Saints, the Spirit of Piety that I may find the service of God sweet and amiable, and the Spirit of Fear that I may be filled with a loving reverence towards God and may dread in any way to displease Him. Mark me, dear Lord, with the sign of Your true disciples and animate me in all things with Your Spirit. Amen.

Apostolic Exhortation[4]

Veneremur Cernui – Down in Adoration Falling

of The Most Reverend Thomas J. Olmsted, Bishop of Phoenix,
to Priests, Deacons, Religious and the Lay Faithful of the Diocese of Phoenix on the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist

My beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Part I

II. The Mass as the eternal memorial of Christ’s Sacrifice on the Cross

19. In the Bible and the Church liturgy, when the Sacrifice of the Mass is called a ‘memorial,’ it means much more than remembering the sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary. It means that whenever the Mass is celebrated, the sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary that happened in the past is really made present to us at Mass, here and now. This is only possible because being the eternal High Priest who has conquered death, His self-offering on the Cross is an everlasting act of love. The Letter to the Hebrews points clearly to the eternal nature of Christ’s sacrifice: “Because He remains forever, [He] has a priesthood that does not pass away… He is always able to save those who approach God through Him, since He lives forever to make intercession for them” (Heb 7:24-25).

20. Therefore, in every Mass, Jesus is not being offered again; rather, we – the Mystical Body of Christ – are taken up into the one sacrifice at Calvary by means of the Priesthood of Christ. The sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary is perpetuated and made present to us in such a way that we can participate in it, linking our imperfect and sinful lives to the perfect and pure sacrifice of God and receiving all the divine benefits that flow from His eternal sacrifice. Our Lord made this possible for us at the Last Supper by instituting the Sacrament of the Eucharist. He uses this Sacrament to make His self-offering at Calvary present to all believers in every place and in every time. Ever since that holy night, throughout the centuries, whenever and wherever the Mass is celebrated, the eternal sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is really made present.

21. If we were at Calvary, what would stand out to us? We would see Jesus’ gasping for breath. His gaze would seem to alternate down and up, first towards us with mercy and longing and second upwards in surrender to His Father. Would we simply say “thank you” or would we be compelled to make a response of compassion? When we attend Mass, do we seek to join Jesus in His total surrender to the Father’s will? Do we bring our imperfections, our toil and sin, and lay them before Jesus to be consumed by His Death? We either say with Jesus, “Into Your hands, Father, I commend my spirit, too!” or we choose to remain enslaved to our sin. To be continued…

Bible in a year Day 318 The Narrow Gate, Lost Sheep, and Prodigal Son

Fr. Mike confronts the hard truth Jesus preaches in today's readings: Many people will ultimately choose hell over heaven. While this can be deeply distressing, Fr. Mike reminds us to focus on Jesus's directive to each one of us: "[You] Strive to enter through the narrow gate." In the second part of today's commentary, Fr. Mike reflects on two of Jesus' most well-known parables: the parable of the Lost Sheep and the parable of the Prodigal Son. Today's readings are Luke 13-16 and Proverbs 26:10-12.

May 19 — Litany of Trust

“From the lie that I must seize what You have not given, deliver me, Jesus.”

David’s grief over Saul and Jonathan is more than the sorrow of a warrior; it is the sorrow of a man who refuses to let sin become the foundation of his future. He will not profit from another’s downfall. He will not reward deceit. He will not take the throne by stepping over a corpse. The Amalekite assumed David’s heart was shaped by ambition. Instead, David’s heart was shaped by reverence. And so he asks the question every righteous man must ask: How were you not afraid? The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the absence of that fear is the beginning of ruin.

In my own life, Lord, I confess how often I am tempted to take advantage of circumstances that seem to favor me. I see someone stumble, and a small voice whispers that their misfortune might open a door for me. I see a weakness in another, and pride suggests I could use it to advance myself. But this is not Your way. You do not build Your kingdom on manipulation, deceit, or opportunism. You build it on truth, humility, and obedience. Deliver me from the lie that gain obtained through another’s loss is gain at all.

Jesus, teach me the holy restraint of David. Teach me to wait for what You give, not grasp for what You have not offered. Teach me to honor the people You place in authority—even when they are flawed, even when they wound me, even when their time is ending. Teach me to mourn the fallen, not exploit them. Teach me to see every person, even those who oppose me, as bearing Your image and deserving of dignity.

From the fear that obedience will cost me too much, deliver me, Jesus.

From the lie that righteousness is weakness, deliver me, Jesus.
From the temptation to profit from another’s downfall, deliver me, Jesus.
From the belief that Your timing is too slow, deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire to build my life on shortcuts, deliver me, Jesus.

Jesus, I trust that You will give me what is mine in Your time.
Jesus, I trust that no blessing gained through sin is a blessing at all.
Jesus, I trust that honoring Your order protects my soul.
Jesus, I trust that integrity is the only path that leads to peace.
Jesus, I trust that You will make me a man who fears You more than opportunity.

Around the Corner

· Spirit Hour: English Ale or Devil’s Whisker’s Cocktail in honor of St. Dunstan

· Religion in the Home for Preschool: May

· Bucket List trip[5]: Iceland

· Drops of Christ’s Blood

· Italian Beef Week

Daily Devotions

· Unite in the work of the Porters of St. Joseph by joining them in fasting: Conversion of Sinners

· Litany of the Most Precious Blood of Jesus

· Offering to the sacred heart of Jesus

· Drops of Christ’s Blood

· Universal Man Plan

· Rosary

[1]https://www.shmoop.com/1-samuel/

[2]http://www.shmoop.com/2-samuel/chapter-1-summary.html

[3]http://www.adventistonline.com/forum/topics/why-did-king-david-order-the

[4]https://dphx.org/veneremur-cernui/

[5] Schultz, Patricia. 1,000 Places to See Before You Die: A Traveler's Life List Workman Publishing Company. Kindle Edition.

THE PROUD REBEL (1958)

Alan Ladd • Olivia de Havilland • Dean Jagger
Directed by George Seaton

A frontier drama carved from restraint and quiet suffering, The Proud Rebel trades gunfights for moral endurance. Alan Ladd gives one of his most interior performances — a father carrying wounds he never names. Olivia de Havilland anchors the film with a steadiness that feels like grace under pressure. And Dean Jagger supplies the menace of a man who mistakes power for righteousness.

This is not a swaggering Western.
It is a pilgrimage of loyalty, sacrifice, and the long road of love between a father and his son.

It is a Western about belonging, and the cost of earning it.

1. Production & Historical Setting

Post‑Civil War Western Humanism

Released in 1958, the film belongs to the late‑’50s shift toward character‑driven Westerns.
The frontier is not mythic here — it is wounded, rebuilding, and suspicious of outsiders.

The war is over, but its scars remain.
The West becomes a place where men try to rebuild what violence took from them.

The Domestic Western

This is a Western of:

farms instead of saloons
barns instead of canyons
a kitchen table instead of a gunfight

The drama is intimate.
The stakes are emotional.
The violence, when it comes, is the last resort of a man who has run out of options.

Alan Ladd’s Quiet Gravitas

As John Chandler, Ladd plays a father whose entire life has narrowed to one mission:
heal his son.

He is a man of few words, carrying grief like a second skin.
His restraint is the film’s moral center.

Olivia de Havilland’s Grounded Strength

Linnett Moore is not a romantic accessory.
She is the film’s conscience — steady, practical, and unafraid to challenge a man’s pride.

Her presence gives the story its moral horizon.

Dean Jagger’s Burley Patriarch

Jagger plays a man who believes force is justice.
He is not evil — he is hardened, territorial, and convinced he is right.

He becomes the test of whether John will choose violence or sacrifice.

2. Story Summary

John Chandler (Alan Ladd)

A former Confederate soldier traveling the frontier with his mute son, David.
The boy’s silence is the wound the father cannot heal.

Linnett Moore (Olivia de Havilland)

A widowed farmwoman struggling to keep her land.
She offers shelter reluctantly — then compassion deliberately.

The Conflict

A dispute with the Burley family escalates into a legal and moral battle.
John is forced to choose between:

defending his son with violence
or protecting him through humility and sacrifice

The Father’s Burden

John’s love for David is absolute.
His willingness to suffer for his son becomes the film’s emotional spine.

The Turning Point

When John is imprisoned, Linnett steps forward — not as a savior, but as someone who has chosen to belong to this wounded pair.

The Resolution

The boy’s voice returns not through force, but through love.
The film ends not with triumph, but with a family formed through suffering, loyalty, and grace.

3. Spiritual & Moral Resonances

A. Love as Long Obedience
John’s journey is not heroic in the Hollywood sense.
It is heroic in the Christian sense:
love that suffers, endures, and refuses to abandon.
B. Belonging as Gift, Not Possession
Linnett’s farm becomes a sanctuary — not because she owns it,
but because she opens it.
Belonging is not claimed; it is offered.
C. The Father’s Wound and the Son’s Silence
David’s muteness is a symbol of trauma.
John’s gentleness is the antidote.
The film becomes a meditation on how love heals what violence breaks.
D. Violence as Last Resort
The film insists that true strength is restraint.
John fights only when he must — and even then, he pays the cost.
E. The Frontier as Purgation
The land strips a man down to what he truly is:

loyal or selfish
gentle or hardened
willing to sacrifice or eager to dominate

The West becomes a moral furnace.

4. Hospitality Pairing — The Quiet Resolve Spread

Corojo or Connecticut Broadleaf cigar — balanced, steady, echoing John’s quiet endurance
A soft, rounded bourbon — something like Woodford or Woodinville, mirroring the film’s gentleness
Warm cornbread and stew — frontier simplicity
A worn leather journal — a place to write the names of those you carry, as John carries his son