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Arctic Spas offers two brands of portable hot tub, Arctic Spas ® and Coyote Spas ®. Arctic Spas brand hot tubs are world famous for their unique design that provides lower running costs, less maintenance, and rugged beauty. Arctic Spas tend to cost a bit more than other hot tub brands but they also tend to last much longer and cost much less to operate over the years, which will save you much more than the higher initial cost.
Coyote Spas brand hot tubs have a similar core design, which makes them very energy efficient and low maintenance like the Arctic brand. However, Coyote Spas are made with fewer size, color, and high tech options, which makes them less expensive to manufacture and therefore less expensive to purchase.
We also offer a range of other hot tub products including hot tub cover lifters, covers, steps, and fun accessories.
Arctic Spas
Coyote Spas
Steps & Bars
Cover Lifters
Hot Tub Covers
Hot Tub Pictures & Photo Gallery
Why are hot tubs so popular?
There is no better place to spend leisure time with friends and family than in a hot tub. Laughing, chatting, listening, and sharing – these were the family interactions that once were a daily ritual of the family dinner table. Today, we are pulled in so many different directions; we are asked for more time at work, at school, even at play. Your home spa can be your new meeting place – reconnect with your kids, your spouse and your self.
From our earliest memories, we are drawn to water – kids and water are a natural combination! Add warmth and water movement and hot tubbing becomes the stuff of lifetime memories. Our beautiful LED lighting and water features will give those curious and playful minds a healthy outlet, and will build an appreciation for taking time for relaxation. As a matter of fact, time in the hot tub brings out the kid in us all, and who couldn't do with a little more fun? Smiles and laughter are standard features on every Arctic Spa.
Are hot tubs healthy?
Immersion in warm water dilates our blood vessels, dramatically increasing blood flow to our tissues. This remarkable process forms the basis for many of the benefits of time spent in a hot tub.
Pain Relief: The buoyancy provided by water offers a great relief to those who suffer from chronic or injury-related skeletal discomfort. Chronic back pain can be relieved by removing the full load of gravity from the spinal column while immersed in warm water and increases activation of "feel good" neurotransmitters. This effect can be magnified by the massaging action of water jets and by ergonomic seating.
Natural Detoxification: Let's face it – hot tubs are hot. As our bodies attempt to maintain a steady internal temperature, our natural coolant, perspiration, flushes out many of the toxins and other undesirable compounds that we accumulate. In the face of an increasingly sedentary lifestyle, natural detoxification is at a premium.
Relaxation: Science aside, the most important benefit of time in a hot tub is the state of relaxation that's a part of every soak. In a world that heaps stress on us all, an Arctic Spa hot tub is a respite from the storm. We can recharge our mental batteries, and emerge from the water rejuvenated.
How should I prepare before shopping for a hot tub?
First of all, you should prepare yourself for a lot of different theories and views from each manufacturer's product. There are varying schools of thought on the best way to build a hot tub. You need to listen carefully to these reasons on why to buy that particular product, listen to the salesperson, but allow your common sense to be your guide.
Arm yourself with questions that are important to you, bring a pad and pencil and make sure you get the answers. Don't be afraid to interrupt during a sales presentation if you didn't understand something and remember to use your common sense.
Make sure to check your local newspapers for sales in your area and keep your ear to the radio and the ads on television. Home and garden shows, carnivals, state fairs, etc. are great ways to cut down on time spent shopping around as most hot tub and spa companies will attend the bigger events.
It's kind of like buying a car. Be prepared to walk away if you don't think you are getting the exact product you want or the best deal possible.
There are a lot of variations and choices so a little homework can pay off.
What should I look for in a hot tub?
Always look for quality. You can find (or not find ) quality in every area of a spa. Here is a brief checklist:
- Does the hot tub have a full floor?
If yes, that is good, but is it pressure treated wood, fibreglass or a thin plastic sheet? (Fibreglass is the best).
- How thick is the hot tub cabinet?
Some are very thin!
- How is the hot tub insulated?
Most spas on the market are what's commonly called foam filled, meaning the spa cabinet to the underside of the shell is filled with foam insulation. The density of the foam may vary but they all operate on the same principle.The problem with this design, we feel, is the fact that there is no access to any of the plumbing under the shell, not to mention leaving all your expensive equipment to the mercy of Mother Nature. You see, with your pumps, heaters etc. on the wrong side of the insulation, they will not be protected during a power outage or extreme temperatures.We all know that heat travels upwards so why is it so important to have so much insulation down below? We know, most manufacturers are using the foam to support flimsy spa shells. What we do at Arctic Spas, is insulate our floor and walls with a high density foam insulation and do not foam our spa shell. This allows us to utilize the heat generated naturally by the motors to help heat your spa water. We also have access to everything underneath the "hood". Would you buy a new vehicle if the hood was welded shut?The most vital place to have insulation in your home is in the walls and the attic. Not in the basement, correct? So, let's make sure we put a nice thick quality spa cover on top!! We'll get to that later. Ask yourself how many spas you plan on purchasing over the next 20-25 years.Is your answer, one? So let's make sure we can access the plumbing for future problems 10-20 years from now or, more importantly for future upgrades when the new "gotta have it" spa technology comes out.
- What are the capabilities of the jets?
Do they turn on and off individually? Do they adjust and can you remove them for service?
- Is the filter easy to remove for cleaning?
Is the filter cartridge a readily available universal style? Some manufacturers have created a monopoly on their cartridges as you can only purchase their filters at their price.
- What type of covers are there?
Remember that heat rises and the most important place to insulate your home, as well as a spa, is on top. Most manufacturers offer a standard 3″ flat cover or a 4″x 2″ tapered top. At Arctic Spas we offer the thickest most durable cover in the industry. Our covers are a 5″x 4″ tapered cover that has a foam core sealed in a foil material similar to a coffee bag, and they come with a 3 year warranty.A cover will not last as long as the spas so make sure that you purchase a cover that's going to withstand snow loads, heavy pets, children and repels moisture. Covers cost between $300.00 – $900.00 so make a wise decision and save money on electricity and future replacement covers.
- What's the warranty?
Be very careful here! Many manufacturers warranties are very creatively written using fine print to their advantage. Most warranties are pro-rated, use deductibles or have a standard flat fee before charging you for parts and labor. Always ask for copies of the fine print warranties before signing a deal and study them carefully.
Do I need to pour a concrete pad?
Probably not if you choose to buy an Arctic Spa brand hot tub!
Most hot tubs on the market today do not have a full support floor on them and do require a slab to be poured. Many warranties will be voided if your spa does not have this support beneath. All Arctic Spas have full support floors.
The tubs come standard with a pressure treated pedestal floor which allows you the luxury of using sidewalk blocks or patio stones as well as an existing patio etc. There is also an optional Forever Floor available on an Arctic Spa. This floor is constructed of high pressure stamped fibreglass and gives you the option of placing the hot tub on the grass or level section of your yard.
Here's the thing, many people do not stay in the same home for 10-20 years. If you've done your homework, you've probably purchased a mid to high end spa and will take it with you, when or if you move.
Be prepared to explain to the prospective buyer of your home why there's a 8′x 8′ concrete slab in your backyard! Something else to think about, maybe you're not moving and you do stay in the same home for decades, what if you want to move the tub to a different location?
What if your yard has matured and maybe adding a new deck, a fish pond, a tree; well, you can see where this is going. If you'd like to move your Arctic Spa, move it!
How do we get the hot tub into my garden?
Typically, Arctic Spa dealers deliver your spa on its end using a pneumatic-tire dolly and, in most deliveries, roll it in through the gate. A standard opening, after the gate has been removed, is 40″ wide. Some hot tubs are up to 41″ wide, so make sure to go out and measure to ensure your opening is wide enough.
Otherwise, we'll look at other options such as removing a section of fence, etc.
What do I need to do to prepare the area for the hot tub?
You need a level surface.
This surface has to be firm and solid to prevent uneven settling that can damage the hot tub. Most hot tub warranties require a 4″ reinforced concrete pad, but not Arctic.
With an Arctic spa, the base preparation is quite simple. You just need to be sure that the site is sufficiently firm and level.
Our hot tubs have a fiberglass "Forever Floor" that gives you the option of placing the spa on the lawn or even right on the ground.
Popular options for Arctic hot tubs include pavers, sidewalk blocks, timbers, washed rock, and commercial spa pads. Any of these will provide a level, solid, well-drained surface for your new spa.
Can I put my hot tub on my deck? Could I sink it in my deck?
Yes & Yes.
Placing a hot tub on a deck is very possible assuming it can safely hold it's weight. Ask your salesperson for the dry weight of the tub, dimensions and water capacity or you can look it up in the manual.
Incorporating a hot tub into a deck is common. A couple of things to take into account are making sure there is access to the equipment and remember an Arctic has access doors on each side of the spa. Cut a hole roughly 18″ wider all the way around the tub.
Then use pull out type panels, that match the decking, to fill in these areas. Also, remember that you may not always be in this home and will either have to leave the spa behind or cover the hole. It is much safer to "countersink" the tub rather than have the decking come right up to the lip.
The reason, it's much easier to enter and exit a spa while sitting on the lip and swinging your legs over than to step down into the water. Water will distort the distance needed to go to reach the first step and hot tubs are slippery! So have a safety bar to enter and leave the tub or sit down on the deck and swivel.
Now What?
Read comments from Arctic Spas customers


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Category:Mining in Somerset
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Resolution: standard / high
Figure 1.
Gender differences in immune signatures among healthy controls. Immune cytokine expression of male and female healthy controls was compared using a step-wise method across all time points (rest, peak activity, and recovery). Red arrows indicate a negative contribution of a particular cytokine in female healthy controls compared to males and vice versa for black arrows. Arrow line thickness is proportional to the magnitude of the standardized canonical coefficients. Changes in IL-23 were a dominant factor at all time points, in particular when cast against concurrent levels of IL-2 and IL-5 expression under challenge.
Smylie et al. BMC Immunology 2013 14:29 doi:10.1186/1471-2172-14-29


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A key expert group set up by the Commission today set out guidelines on giving European industry a competitive edge in deploying the industrial technologies of the future (Key Enabling Technologies, KET). Combinations of KETs are embedded at the core of most advanced products, such as electric cars, mobile phones or a recent real-time avian flu test instrument. For example, an electric car is a combination of advanced materials for batteries, microelectronics components for power electronics in order to reduce the weight of the car, photonics for low consumption lighting, industrial biotechnologies for low friction tyres and finally advanced manufacturing systems to produce electrical vehicles at a competitive cost.
"Europe's innovation depends on the development and growth of Key Enabling Technologies. We need to focus our policies better and align them to create more synergies between our instruments to boost Europe's capabilities in the area of KETS. I am convinced KET's follow-through applications will allow Europe to create more jobs and growth. The commitment of private stakeholders to investing in Europe will also be vital for success."
The final two contracts, out of six, for Galileo, Europe's global navigation satellite programme were signed on 22 June 2011. Signature of these contracts is essential for the deployment and provision of three initial services by Galileo in 2014.
European Commission Vice President Antonio Tajani proposed a new graduate scheme in the field of chemical policies in Helsinki. Young university graduates or students coming towards the end of their studies will be able to get an inside view into the work of the European Chemicals Agency (ECHA).


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Dunbarton girl wins world judo competition
Gabrielle Stroska, 13, of Dunbarton traveled to France, where she recently took home the top prize in a judo competition against other martial artists from around the globe. (Courtesy Photo)
A passion for judo has taken her thousands of miles from home, to take the top prize in a world judo competition.
Thirteen-year-old Gabrielle Stroska recently placed first at the International Judo Championship in Harnes, France, winning the first gold medal ever for the U.S.
Other members of the USA Elite Judo team, from California and New York, also earned two bronze medals, with team USA marking its best overall finishes in the history of the event.
Gabrielle is coached by her father, Robert Stroska, who is head coach of the Granite State Judo Institute in Manchester, the judo club for Manchester's Police Athletic League.
"It was absolutely fantastic," said Robert of his daughter's win. "She made history."
According to Robert, Gabrielle has competed in Poland several times already against opponents from Poland, Ukraine, Russia and other eastern European countries, as well as in France and Belgium in the past.
"I have had a chance to bring more American judoka to Poland as well, thus helping them to grow better in judo with different styles of fighting judo opponents," Robert said.
Jim Hrbek, USA Judo's chairman of the Junior Athlete Performance Committee, said Gabrielle has helped to place the Granite State Judo Institute on the map.
"What a tremendous accomplishment for Gabrielle," said Hrbek, adding that those placing in this tournament are the first junior students who train in the United States to place.
"It's the toughest event in the world for that age group," Robert added.
Gabrielle said the win was hard-earned, but worth the effort. "I was really happy," she said. "I worked really hard for it, so I was proud."
Standing at the podium with her gold medal, Gabrielle said she was in tears.
"I kept thinking, I did it!" she said. Gabrielle, who has been practicing judo since she was three, said she has always wanted to compete in the sport she describes as similar to wrestling, without the kicking and punching of karate.
The win, she said, was exciting for both father and daughter.
"He was very proud, it was pretty much a dream come true for him," said the teen, who also enjoys soccer in her free time. Gabrielle said she may compete for a slot in the 2016 Olympics. Robert said he plans to expose Gabrielle to more opportunities in the sport.
"I intend to give my daughter as much judo experience on the international level as possible, especially in western and eastern Europe," he said.
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The debts of households, companies and governments
Chris Farrell
Interview with
Dec 1, 2011 And how they influence a country's GDP.
The truth about why we buy
Tess Vigeland
Interview by
Nov 25, 2011 Author James Roberts discusses the motivations behind our shopping habits, and the relationship between money and happiness.
PODCAST: What the super committee lost, Egypt's revolutionary flare up
Mary Dooe
Nov 29, 2011 We speak to the President of Panama Ricardo Martinelli about how the debt crises in the U.S. and Europe are affecting his country, and how Panama is continuing to grow. Reporter Mitchell Hartman shows us one place that was shaken to its core by the housing crisis. And what does the OWN network need to do to succeed?
Third quarter GDP revised down
David Gura
Nov 22, 2011 The Commerce Department says the economy grew 2 percent, revised down from 2.5. But economists say chances are after one step back, we'll take two forward.
Some bright spots in the revised GDP numbers
David Brancaccio
Nov 22, 2011 The revised third quarter GDP figures show 2 percent growth, down from the previously estimated 2.5 percent gain. Few economists were expecting that much of a revision and it sure looks like a disappointment -- until you start picking through the numbers.
Happy: The Movie
Amanda Aronczyk
Nov 3, 2011 A new documentary about the search for happiness is playing in Boulder tonight, Bellingham tomorrow as well as Buffalo, New York City, Flagstaff,...
The Recession's Consumer Paradox
Dash Wasserman
Nov 3, 2011 David Brancaccio was in Los Angeles last week to guest host Marketplace Money. The theme: Borrow or spend? If we don't spend, life gets drained...
MID-DAY UPDATE: American families make 18% less after the financial crisis, radiation levels continue to rise in Japan
Katharine Crnko
Mar 25, 2011 Here are some of today's top headlines from the Marketplace Morning Report and around the web. The economy, in the last quarter of 2010, grew ...
The Saddest Place on Earth?
Nov 8, 2011 Are Bulgarians, who know how to have a good time, that unhappy?
MID-DAY UPDATE: U.S. economy up 3.2% , Australia, Trans-Arctic shipping
Katharine Crnko
Jan 28, 2011 The U.S. economy grew by 3.2 percent last quarter, the Commerce Department said Friday, in its report on the nation's gross domestic product. Jill...


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Busty hottie Sky Taylor gets tied up and facial disgraced
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I am speechless, but I won't be for long. We will not stop shouting about this until we face it, name the demon, and face it down. This is hate. This is terror. This is racism. This is evil. NO MORE. IT ENDS HERE. This thing called America must become something new--a place where our history of enslavement, death, and hatred to people of black skin is not us. Right now, it IS us. I will face it. I will mourn it. I, I! as far as I can in my own piece of fleshy turf, right now, am doing something about it. I am not speechless. Now and forever, I will shout it to the rooftops. WE WILL NOT BE ENSLAVED TO OUR HISTORY. WE WILL NOT ENSLAVE OTHERS IN OUR HISTORY. I stand with the 9 martyrs, in love. I will continue to stand in the face of lies, and guns. I'm just one. But, that's what I am doing. Right now.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The Harry Potter Blotter--What's A Catholic To Do?
©2011, Randall A. Beeler
Will the real Christ stand up? Whom do you pick from this line-up?
Since L'Osservatore Romano published kudos for the last Harry Potter film, the response has read like a police blotter, with criminal accusations a-fly. Decriers of Rowling's wizardry series have quoted Michael D. O'Brien, Pope Benedict (who commented on the Potter series when he was Cardinal Ratzinger), and the Vatican's Chief Exorcist, Father Gabrielle Amorth to demonstrate that the Harry Potter series represents an inroad for witchcraft and demonic influence, or at least the paganization of Western Civilization.
However, many faithful Catholics have read the series and wonder why the to-do? Some even go so far as to posit the Harry Potter of the Seventh Book (The Deathly Hallows) as a Christ figure, which scandalizes others who are trying to publish the implicit dangers of the Potter series.
What to do? If you're like me, you probably wondered what all the hoopla was about when the series caught fire more than ten years ago and actually picked up the books to see what it was about. I read them and, as a then-evangelical-United-Methodist pastor, I at first proclaimed the many problems with the book, most notably what Michael D. O'Brien points out:
All too often, when cultural material arrives in intense pleasure-inducing forms, and contains some positive 'values' mixed with highly toxic messages in its role modeling and its anti-values, we are easily seduced. To believe that the Potter message is about fighting evil is superficial. On practically every page of the series, and in its spin-off films, evil is presented as 'bad', and yet the evil means by which the evil is resisted are presented as good.But, as I read all the books in the series--even as I converted to Catholicism in 2005--I allowed my children to read the series and to share with me about it. Nonetheless, I always qualified any enthusiasm for the books with what seem to me to be two major difficulties with Rowling's works:
- What O'Brien notes in the quotation above--namely, that the fight against evil in the series seems hopelessly riddled (yes, the play-on-words is intended) with the evil power Voldemort himself wields; and
- The writing itself, which, although employing all the techniques of the fantasy genré invented by MacDonald, Tolkien, and Lewis, falls far, far short in literary merit of the great works of these authors.
And yet … and yet …
… that seventh book, The Deathly Hallows, is by far, the most admirable of the series, and, although it never rises to the level of great literature, it does make me understand why some, like L'Osservatore Romano gush over it and why others, even Catholics, see Harry as a Christ figure …
… and yet … Harry is not the Christ of this story. No one is. For Rowling's tale springs from an implicitly pagan worldview.
Before anyone out there writes off this blog as merely a summation of Harry Potter as neo-pagan, new-age Hogwarts hogwash, you ought first read what I mean by pagan.
Paganism persists because it is remains the only historical alternative to faith in Christ--that Faith which proclaims reliance on God's grace and mercy, dependent on no gesture, action, effort, or offering we can render.
Underneath the Zeuses, Zoroasters, Odin's, and Baal's is a mercantile relationship--namely, that we can appease the uncontrollable powers of the cosmos by rendering a fitting offering from our own wherewithal. In it's worst form, this tit-for-tat, I-can-buy-my-own-security-with-right-sacrifice mindset devolves into demonism, wherein our power-rendering sacrifice entails making ourselves fit to be fodder for demonic powers. Witness the Azteca and Maya of Central America, or the Carthaginians and Phoenicians of the Mediterranean who made human sacrifice, especially of children, the coinage of power.
In it's least malignant form--the paganism of Greco-Roman culture--represents an almost playful, imaginative encounter with the magic springs of the universe. Indeed, that is why the ancient world admitted no reconciliation between its great mythologies and its great philosophies. Even when a virtuous pagan would put some stock in Aristotle's "First Cause/Prime Mover" or Plato's realm of ideals, he couldn't speak to those abstractions. Simply put, there could be no imaginative encounter with the conclusion of a philosophic argument. How then to explain the magic of the universe? The fact that, despite its setting, the sun does come back again? The joyous realization that, though Autumn wends its way to Winter's ever-longer, colder nights, the light waxes with a finality revelled in during the Summer Solstice?
What do men do, in lieu of the revealed final truth, but personify such things in the form of mythic encounters with the gods? Though much mischief and demonic trickery comes of such mythos, the demons themselves are not capable of myths--only of gross parodies of the True Good that only God creates. Thus, even in the most lie-riddled myth of, say, Zeus forcing himself upon Leta lies a tiny truth that springs out of man's own goodness: his encounter with the supernatural--a goodness and an encounter authored only by the One True God. Demons can't do that; they can only lie about and warp our vision of God's authorship of our story.
Truly, in the Christ, we become men who put away the childish things of myths. When the True God arrives in the creche at Bethlehem, the half-gods (and their demonic puppeteers) are put in rout. We now have a personal, societal, civilizational, natural, supernatural encounter with God in the Eucharistic that blows away all myths--not because it is solely true and they wholly false, but because it is the Real Presence that they can only dimly, awkwardly, and mischievously pantomime, like a four-year-old's stick-figure points to the Mona Lisa. If it never occurs to us to immediately conclude to the Mona Lisa after viewing a child's stick figure, it is not because the stick figure is flat-out evil but because DaVinci gives us the real thing.
So even the most benign of the myths seem in comparison to the revelation of Christ. And so vain and fruitless might it seem to us that some Catholics would gush over the Christ-figurine of Harry Potter. Indeed, we might as well praise Orpheus as a figure of the Christ--but only if we strain our eyes and grant a lot of leeway and suspension of disbelief to our hearing of the myth. Harry's world is one in which the coinage of power is the "magical" use of magic--something Voldemort fails at and Harry succeeds in, primarily because Harry is willing to offer himself to death and Voldemort not.
All well and good … sounds Christ-like, doesn't it? … until … until …
… until we look at Harry's mug-shot a little more closely. I admit that the Harry Potter series appeals to me, and I can therefore understand why it appeals to so many others … it fits the characteristically pagan and characteristically human view of the cosmos--one in which we finally, with the right gesture, the right mixture of virtue, effort, luck, and the self-defeating nature of the evil powers of the universe, make everything right and still get to do it our way.
None of this is to belittle Harry, any more than it would be to belittle Odysseus for finally making it back to Ithaca the pagan way. For those old pagan ways were the faint shadows, distant echoes, and hand-shaped-cloud forerunners of the Truth that was to come. When Odysseus does return home, Homer makes sure it is due to the intervention of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Now that Christ is at home with us in the Eucharist, we can see that even the folly of man's old pagan myths was all along the wisdom of God.
In this way, the Harry Potter series is not evil in itself nor do its characteristics and story necessarily breed demonism or lead children to witchcraft. It does represent a throwback to an outmoded worldview--the idea that we must find the right magic to unlock the trapdoors of the universe. And to that extent, it is deceptive. But what about generations of Christians who have read the classic myths and epics as a way to marvel over the mysterious footprints in the sand and fingerprints of God in history?
Should we be horrified over Catholics who might see in Harry's use of the Resurrection Stone a sketchy footprinted path to the Communion of Saints or in his "first death" at the hands of Voldemort an evaporating fingerprint of the Passion?
Why even note such things when we do have the Communion of Saints with us (without the conjuring of the Resurrection Stone) and when we do have more than a mere fingerprint but all of Christ in the Precious Body and Blood?
The answer has something to do with what Michael D. O'Brien and others have astutely called "the twilight of the west." We are living in a time in which many of us have already slipped back into a pagan worldview without the backdrop of Christendom … for many have already abandoned the Christ.
The only reason we can dimly see, as if in a warped mirror, saintly and Passion-ate glints of truth in a work of juvenile fiction is because we already have received the Truth of the Christ. The Faithful can take comfort in the Truth that, if anyone finds anything good in the Harry Potter series, it comes from the Author of all good--God Himself. For the devil makes no good (and, if history and the Scriptures are any indication, he does a stumblebum job of parodying God's goods--for his parodies always lay the groundwork for grace; indeed, one gets the feeling that, though Satan is horribly earnest in his efforts, he is indeed the only power who does not see that his worst plots are little more than parodies--Milton has caught some wind of this).
That we often fall for such parody says more about original sin than it does about stories, myths, and life itself.
But what of modern pagans? I don't mean that ancient Greeks and Romans are walking among us again today. Oh, would that they were! There were souls, conscious of our fallibility and tragic bent, who flocked to the comic story of the Christ at a time when civilization was crumbling. Only such a myth-glutted and Truth-starved civilization could produce Lawrence, Sebastian, Helen, and hosts of others!
No, in the time of our would-be tragic civilization, we are besieged by a growing population of would-be pagans who might put their ancient counterparts to the blush. For these modern pagans not only reject the Christ but also the old pagan mythologies. To what, then, would they flock but a juvenile literary series that throws off faint, dying embers of the Christ Whom they shun (but still innately need) and the magical cosmos (that they desperately miss), which they have technologized into nothing but dead matter?
I say "they," but I should rightly utter "we." If some Catholics praise Harry Potter as a Christ figure, what are we the Church trading upon that makes a Harry Potter so charismatic in the Real Presence of the Resurrected Christ? L'Osservatore Romano's review seems at best to say that we should embrace Harry because his story is not overly evil. Faint praise? Or a damning admission that we Catholics are very wanting some real good?
And what of fools like me who have read the entire series and allowed his children to do so? Have I been inviting them to sup in a septic tank (as Michael D. O'Brien has coined it) only because I've scented some honey in the cesspool?
Well, I am a fool. I know it. For, in the past, I rebelled against Christ and His Church because I thought I could navigate and negotiate good and evil on my own terms. Now that I am back in the fold, could I not be committing the same error in, well, actually finding the Harry Potter books entertaining even if they are not literary triumphs? Redeeming even if they throw off only faint sparks of the real Christ and the real Passion?
Perhaps. But I take some comfort in this thought: namely, that the ancient mythologies were testimony of God working even in the cesspools of human imagination. We always need to recall that our imaginative capacities are indeed cesspools in comparison to a Beloved who can utter "LIGHT!" and there is light. Nonetheless, our imaginations remain created sparks of that Light which has shone forth in the darkness. Our honey is not transformed into septic water, no matter how choking the filth and fumes of the waste surrounding it.
You and I as Catholics don't need Harry Potter in order to encounter the Light that overcomes the darkness. But is it not magical in the sense of the ancient myths that, even in the midst of what appears a cesspool of culture (and of what appears to be a decaying civilization that can't even parody its pagan forebears) that Harry Potter, amidst the muck, STILL points to, even dimly, the Christ?
God's Truth and Beauty shine forth in all things, no matter how warped they are by evil. Evil is the parody. God is the Truth. And for a parody--unwitting or intended--to be a parody, it has to flash a faint flicker of the thing it parodies.
Harry is no Christ. We--pagans and Catholics--all of us--live and breathe in the same culture, we trod through the same muck. Many, many unChurched souls, yes, are deceived by the Harry-Potter-like parodies that abound in our culture, the false Christs, the anti-Christs that seek to lure our eyes away from our Beloved, the One True Christ. Sadly, many Churched souls willingly trade the Christ in for a Harry Potter or two. I've done it myself.
But just because Harry Potter can be a means of error does not mean that one author's attempt to tell a story and millions of readers adherence to those stories are a damnable thing. Truth be told, I like the Seventh Book of the Harry Potter series. And I have willingly engaged with my now-adult children in their reading of the series. But like the pagan myths of old, this new, diminished pagan myth can't help but point to the Christ, even amidst its confusion. Perhaps its willing use of evil means to triumph over evil is the cause of its less-than-literary-classic quality. Or perhaps the limited imagination of its author's literary ability leads to an ethically, philosophically, and mythologically crippled worldview (namely, that we can fight evil with its own powers).
Despite all that, Harry's triumph over Voldemort is likable and entertaining--somewhat in the same sense that Perseus' triumph over the Medusa and Kraken is likable and entertaining. And in the same way that Gran Torino's Walt Kowalski triumphs over the villainous Hmong gang is entertaining. Despite that, I am not converted to Harryism. Even if some take Perseus, Deepak Chopra, or Clint Eastwood as their saviors, I will have only the Christ.
And I will take Christ as he peeks at me in my muck, even in Harry Potter.
Having read the Harry Potter series, and having allowed my children to do so, I can tell you that I am better equipped to greet Christ--not because Harry is a Christ, but because Christ is Christ:
|All things counter, original, spare, strange;
|Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
|With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
|He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
|Praise him. (Gerard Manley Hopkins)
So, the next time we walk down an Emmaus Road with a modern-pagan or Catholic fan of Harry Potter, let's none of us worry about which one of us is Cleopas or Christ. Though the two of us might be strange to each other, let our hearts be on fire even if the only thing we have in common is that we've read Harry Potter. Christ will reveal Himself to us in the breaking of that bread (which is all the mug-shot sorting we need.)
And, if you've no intention of reading Harry Potter, then trot with Philip down a desert road and help an Ethiopian or two with Isaiah 53:7-8.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 10:04 PM 7 comments
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 9
©Randall A. Beeler, 2011
This installment of theComedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …
Carmelo Cardinal Pastore, the Apostolic Nuncio, ladled out his third bowl of gumbo with relish. The man was gaunt (though not in that Shakespearian-villain-"Yond-Cassius-has-a-lean-and-hungry-look" way). It was all Michael could do not to utter the old witticism, "Where'r you puttin' all that? Ya got a hollow leg?"
But the food did not keep the Cardinal from observing everything he could about the new Archbishop. "Archbishop Christopher, when you were in Santa Fe, you did not host the Nuncial delegation to Diocesan cooking. No, only the finest of Santa Fe's finest restaurants. Yet here we are, just you and I this time, in the humble Archdiocesan kitchen, eating microwaved gumbo--delicious gumbo nonetheless."
Michael swallowed the last of his second bowl. "Your Eminence, Naomi made the gumbo--she is a master chef in her own right. But she also has a husband and grandchildren to cook for. I take the microwave as a trade-off for having the best home-cooked food in the Bayou City. You don't seem to be suffering, eh?"
The Nuncio paused over his spoon. Michael wasn't sure if he'd made the old scarecrow choke. Then a bellowing Pavarotti laugh bubbled up from his frail-looking chest. "Si! I'm not going to say that the Nuncial accommodations are wanting, but I do fast quite a bit--sometimes, however, on my visits, the local cooking makes such fasts obligatory! Ha!"
The old man was cagey, and Michael was not going to take this little joke as a reason to back down one inch from that gaze that took in everything. "Well, you are certainly welcome for a Houston layover any time that such penances strike you unawares."
Again, the good Cardinal bellowed, then grabbed his stemware of wine. "But you do not--how do you say?--skimp on the wine. It is not Italian, but it reminds me of my hometown, Gubbio."
"Actually, your Eminence, it's not that expensive at all. I never was a wine lover until my w--, I mean my--my best friend introduced me to it as something not just for snobs. This is a surprisingly inexpensive Malbec Terazza from Chile. The Italian notes in it are well-earned--the vintage is from a family and vines that emigrated from Perugia to the terraces in Chile, the same way they did back home."
The Cardinal again paused, this time smiling as he relished the wine. "You picked this for me, I see. I am no 'snob' as you say. And neither are you, Bishop Christopher. You never have been."
"Thank you, Your Eminence."
"But other things have changed since we last dined in Santa Fe."
It was Michael's turn to pause. "Oh?"
"Si, you are more guarded, like you protect something. But you have completely dispensed with the foolhardy attempt at romanitá. It is not that I prize the habitual cunning pursuit of intrigue that some unfortunates wield in Rome; there is a reason I am in America, eh? It is just that, when not in Rome, American bishops would do well to not do as the romanitás, shall we say."
Despite his wariness, Michael found that he could not help liking this man.
The Cardinal continued, "You are more yourself, but you are not yourself. It is as if you have arrived home safe only to find that it is someone else's empty home, like Chesterton's Manalive."
Michael's brow arched. "You read Chesterton, Your Eminence?"
"And Belloc. And Lewis. And Newman. These English today are not what they were. But then, perhaps, we nuncios are not what we should be today. Chesterton reminds me of what I am made to be. I fail, but so do you, eh?"
"Frankly, Your Eminence, I fail to see why I am here."
The Nuncio took another sip of the vine, then waved his hand. "Ah, the usual question--'Why me, Your Eminence?' All of you ask it, and it is a good question. More to the point, though, is how you are here."
"You mean you are going to reveal to me what led you to recommend me to Rome as Archbishop?"
Smiling, the Cardinal dipped back into his gumbo. "Perhaps." Loud slurp. The man was not worried about showing his enjoyment of the meal. Naomi was right--they all are really men. "I refer to the curious means by which you entered this city--a curiosity that has not escaped the clerics at the Nuncial offices."
Michael's stomach dropped, then a wave of relief surged over him. "Uh, Your Eminence, I was hoping you could shed more light on that for me. I was at the airport, then I blacked out. No one here seems to be able--or to want--to tell me any details."
"We are, how do you say? 'sketchy' on those points. You were found unconscious in a Dallas airport bathroom stall. We might have thought you had been assaulted and robbed, yet all your personal items were still with you, and the medical tests show no signs of a blow to the head. You remained comatose until in Houston. You know the rest."
"Sadly, Your Eminence, I don't. Much, if not all of my previous tenure in New Mexico is opaque to me. I have been reading all the minutes and records--including my personal journal--that I retrieved from Santa Fe. I feel like I am reading the life of another man. So, hopefully, you can see why I have been reluctant to immediately assume my duties here in Houston. I am not the man I was, and I'm hoping you can tell me who I am supposed to be as the Archbishop … such a question is obviously not romanitá but a frank admission that perhaps your expectations of me can no longer be what they were, Cardinal Pastore. I am not fit for this work, and that is no mere dose of humble piety. Why am I here?"
Michael wanted to tell him so badly, but he literally could not form the words to say "I'm not who you think I am!" And even if he could say such a thing to the Apostolic Nuncio, wouldn't it have the same effect--even on this astute and holy soul--that it had had on everyone in Houston? They all thought he was such a humble servant, patiently admitting his unworthiness.
Surprisingly, the Cardinal was not surprised. "Pfaw, Bishop Christopher! Do you think I think myself worthy of the work? None of us are qualified. Your admission smacks of no humility but is an observation of the obvious. All of us are frauds, right down to Saint Peter himself, sinking in the Sea of Galilee. You would do well to forget your past struggles and dive into this work like we are doing with this gumbo. Delicious!" He drank the rest of the bowl, shrimp and all.
Dabbing his mouth with the napkin, he pushed aside the bowl with a loud scrape on the kitchen table and eyed Michael, staring straight into his heart. "I recommended you, but His Holiness chose you for good reason. We have problems in Houston and America. Many thought that you were not the man for the work here--you played things too straight, too American, in Santa Fe, they said. But I see differently, and you are showing me now that I was right and that the Episcopacy committee in Houston was right about you."
Michael put his head in his hands, exasperated. "Right about what? I'm-- I'm--empty, Your Eminence. I'm alone here. I know nobody. I have no auxiliary bishops. I have a Diocesan Vicar who's very sure he knows every move I should make, right down to what clothes I should wear. I know nothing about 'how things are done' in Houston, nor what the problems are to which you refer. This isn't what my life is supposed to be, isn't what it had been … and I'm caught here, in the middle."
Something lit up in the Cardinal's gleaming hazel eyes. "Ah, what a place to be, Father! Like in your first pastoral appointment! There is a trite saying, my friend, but trite does not necessarily mean 'untrue': 'The present is a gift--that is why it is called the present!'"
Michael stared bewildered at the empty bowls on the table between them.
The Cardinal dove into the breach. "You need not explore your past--it is no precedent here. You need not look at the Archdiocese's past--for that is its problem. You need not worry about the future--auxiliaries will come; after all, the word, 'auxiliary' in the Latin means 'help.' And you do know somebody here. You are quite sensitive to the dignity of your housekeeper, Naomi, her family, and the truth that she is a human being. You know her as a Shepherd should."
That struck a chord in Michael, a tiny little ringing as of Christmas bells, signally the Light's breaching of the darkness he had been in. He had never thought there could be any other way with Naomi--it was natural to him to receive her blessings as eagerly as he would a bowl of her gumbo.
He looked up with a flash in his eye at the Nuncio.
"Yes!" urged the Cardinal. "Give yourself away. You are a present to Houston and the Church. Now be present to us all while staying in the Presence of our Lord. Let's go, you and I, bellies full of gumbo, to kneel before His Presence in the chapel, and you and I, my brother, will know that no matter where we are, He will always give us, His prodigal brothers, a bowl of soup."
After they knelt for what seemed hours, the two brothers talked of things until the light of dawn peered into the chapel. Later that morning, the Nuncio left, and Michael knew something of what he had to do.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 2:06 PM 1 comments
Labels: Carmelo Cardinal Pastore, gumbo, Naomi, Papal Nuncio
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 8
©Randall A. Beeler, 2011
This installment of theComedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …
"Your Excellency, you do realize that the Papal Nuncio will be in attendance at your installation Mass." The Diocesan Vicar's eyebrows were raised. "You have to at least concelebrate. And I still don't see the wisdom in having me preside."
"Let the Papal Nuncio concelebrate. I will kneel at the Altar rail as an unworthy servant should," said Michael, waving his hand in the air, weary of the discussion.
"But Archbishop, I-- I-- it's not my place to celebrate this Mass. Let the Nuncio preside."
"No, Mat--I mean, Monsignor Morelli. I am setting a precedent for my visits to the parishes of the Archdiocese."
Matt, apparently also wearied by the debate rubbed his brows and murmured, "Well, Bishop, it's certainly not a precedent you set in Santa Fe. You said all your own Masses there, at every visit. And you are known for your preaching--"
"I will still preach a word for the weary, Monsignor. I just don't need to be front-and-center."
Matt sighed. "I just don't understand, Your Excellency. This is highly irregular. Rome will inquire."
"These are highly irregular times, Monsignor. And if Rome inquires, I will obediently answer. Subsidiarity is still a hallmark of the See of Peter."
At the Mass of Installation, the Nuncio did indeed show a reaction--which was no reaction. He stared straight ahead, but his eyes saw everything. Even when the Nuncio's gaze seemed to be taking in the congregation or the mosaics that lined the far-away vestibule, Michael felt they were looking straight into his lie.
The only time Michael was relieved of their yoke was when he preached, as he had said to Matt, "a word to the weary." If only the gathered knew how much of it was a word preached to himself:
Fresh from the waters and resplendent in these garments, God's holy people hasten to the altar of Christ, saying: I will go in to the altar of God, to God who gives joy to my youth. They have sloughed off the old skin of error, their youth renewed like an eagle's, and they make haste to approach that heavenly banquet. They come and, seeing the sacred altar prepared, cry out: You have prepared a table in my sight. David puts these words into their mouths: The Lord is my shepherd and nothing will be lacking to me. He has set me down there in a place of pasture. He has brought me beside refreshing water. Further on, we read: For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I shall not be afraid of evils, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff have given me comfort. You have prepared in my sight a table against those who afflict me. You have made my head rich in oil, and your cup, which exhilarates, how excellent it is.
It is wonderful that God rained manna on our fathers and they were fed with daily food from heaven. And so it is written: Man ate the bread of angels. Yet those who ate that bread all died in the desert. But the food that you receive, that living bread which came down from heaven, supplies the very substance of eternal life, and whoever will eat it will never die, for it is the body of Christ.
Consider now which is the more excellent: the bread of angels or the flesh of Christ, which is indeed the body that gives life. The first was manna from heaven, the second is above the heavens. One was of heaven, the other is of the Lord of the heavens; one subject to corruption if it was kept till the morrow, the other free from all corruption, for if anyone tastes of it with reverence he will be incapable of corruption. For our fathers, water flowed from the rock; for you, blood flows from Christ. Water satisfied their thirst for a time; blood cleanses you for ever. The Jew drinks and still thirsts, but when you drink you will be incapable of thirst. What happened in symbol is now fulfilled in reality.After Mass, one of the acolytes, a young graduate engineering student named Daniel, kept staring at him as they disrobed in the sacristy. When the other celebrants had left, he approached Michael, tentatively. "Int-teresting hom-m-ily, B-bishop Christ-t-t-opher," he stuttered.
Michael looked at him hard. The stutter was not so much out of trepidation--rather, the young man had a speech impediment. Under that sincere gaze, Michael felt more exposed to the light than he had with anything the Nuncio said or did. He answered as honestly as he could. "I felt I needed to hear it--as a reminder of what the Eucharist is. I--I … don't ever want to toy with it."
Daniel now stared at him harder. "They w-weren't your words, Your Excellence, b-but they were g-good words, and you had the c-courage to p-p-preach them to us."
Michael's brows rose higher than Matt's ever could. "You have a good ear, son. And you're well read. They aren't my words--their Bishop Saint Ambrose's from roughly 1,600 years ago. And I needed the courage to preach them to me."
Daniel paused and finally looked down. When his eyes met Michael's again, a smile curled at the corners of the young man's mouth. "I wish m-more Bishops would p-preach the Church Fathers. All of us n-need to hear them n-n-new."
Michael blushed and stuttered out, "I had nothing else to say. I'm-I'm empty."
Clear as a bell, Daniel answered, "It is in your weakness that He perfects you."
As the young man left him, the Noon Angelus bells were ringing in some universe in the Cathedral far above the sacristy. And Michael saw himself in the mirror again as a new man.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 11:55 AM 0 comments
Labels: Acolyte, Daniel, Installation Mass, Papal Nuncio, Saint Ambrose
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 7
©Randall A. Beeler, 2011
This installment of theComedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …
The knock on the study door broke in on what he had been reading from one of the old but very well preserved books left by bishops long dead:
Be disposed to follow Jesus wherever He wants. He chose poverty, humiliations, the cross. Will I not also receive these gifts since He created me, preserves me in life and has freed me from Hell? Still better, He has suffered for thirty years all kinds of pain in order to finally die on the cross as the most foul of men, and I would not want to suffer anything for His love?The quote was Saint Teresa of the Andes, but the visitor was Naomi, come, presumably, to do some dusting. She was checking on him more frequently. "Hello, Naomi."
"Good morning, Bishop Chris," she said over her dusting, trying not to look like she was looking at what he was doing with himself. "Mah, mah, you is de reading-est Bishop I ever saw here. De rest of 'em jes kept a goin' from dawn to midnight. And when dey wasn't goin', dey was on de computer, a typin' away."
Michael lowered the book and looked up at her from the wingback chair. "Well, I haven't had much time to read of late. I thought I'd take that chance while I had it."
"Uh-huh," Naomi grunted as she continued to dust the same lamp for the third time.
Michael might as well as let this go on. He'd been foolish enough to have even responded to her first sally. "You don't like reading, Naomi?"
"I loves to read. Das one of de things I was praised for in school. I got my favorites, and I read 'em when I can."
"Buuuuuut … come on, Naomi, spit out whatever's bothering you about my reading."
That did it. The feather duster dropped to her side, one arm akimbo, the other hand waving like she was in the pulpit of the Church of the Wise Virgins' Lamp. "Now, Bishop, you deserves to read as much as de next man, but dere is a time to read and a time fo' doin'. Dat bump on yo' head is long gone. You has got to git doin' so that when you do read, it's a well-deserved rest!"
Michael smiled. "Naomi, why do I get the idea that several of my predecessor's regularly got the benefit of your wisdom?"
"Well now, some o' dem wasn't too keen on me talkin' at all. So I jes shut mah mouth an' let de actions do de talkin'. Some others just let me rattle on and paid me no heed till I was outta de room. Doan' matter. You bishops is men, but Bishop Chris, even a man has gots to do what he's called to do."
Laying the book aside, Michael rubbed his brow and leaned forward. "But Naomi, where do I begin? There's so much I don't know. I'm not the man for this job … I'm a fraud."
Naomi paused, her preachin' hand stalled mid-air. "Now I ain't evah heard no bishop say dat."
She paused to collect her thoughts. If Michael hadn't been sincerely asking her about what was troubling him, he might've relished the feat of having shocked her silence--even if the pause was only momentary.
Her preachin'-hand's index finger was on her chin. "Now, I'm not sayin' dey didn't think dat, but dey never woulda said it to no one, least of all de cleanin' lady!"
Michael cringed; he was exposed. Might as well happen this way--it was a deserved berating he was about to get, one that measured up to his ever thinking that he could pull off this deception. And why was he even doing it in the first place?
Naomi stared at him for what seemed like a full minute. Yet, her eyes were not focused on him. They saw something he could not see.
Then, the preachin'-hand shot up in the air again. "What you said is so true dat, it doan' bear repeating--cause it's so plain on de face. But dat's de best start you kin make! Of course you ain't up to de job! Who is?"
"Naomi, you hardly understand--I am not qualified to do the job. I can't even say Mass the right way."
A big laugh rolled out of Naomi. "Hah-haaaah! Lawdy, Bishop, ain't nobody done Mass de right way since way back when dey changed ever'thin'! I'm not sayin' we should go back to whatevah we was doin'--I wasn't even Catholic den, it was marrying mah husbad dat made me dat way--I'm jes sayin' dat all you priests seems to have yo variations and what not. Lawdy, everbuddies' heads a-spin when a new bishop comes here, 'cuz it's crazy tryin' to predict what dis one is gonna wanna do. How 'bout followin' de book, huh? Das a place to start fo' you. Dat's where you should be readin' up! Certainly would shock de socks offa ever'buddy hear if you was to do things de right way, dat's fo' sho! I doan' think anybody knows what dat is 'cuz we ain't never seen it! Hah-haaaaaaaa!"
The lamp being the only thing dusted--and that to perfection--Naomi left him there, his mouth hanging open, her job apparently done.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 10:25 AM 0 comments
Labels: Naomi, Saint Teresa of the Andes
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 6
This installment of theComedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …
… and not himself. At least not himself as he looked now--but the self he'd been when he'd taken the freeway exit to go to Love Field instead of to AmiCorp. He was the Archbishop now, an archbishop who looked incredibly like himself.
… and the gardener was … who was this gardener? Michael knew it was himself in the mirror two weeks ago. But who was that man now?
"You musta been stung already, 'cuz yer not saying a thing. What are ya in anaphylactic shock or sumthin'?"
That voice definitely was not his.
"Who are you?" Michael demanded.
The gardener just smiled and whispered to him, "Michael …"
Michael shook the scales from his eyes. "You!" he nearly shouted, then looked about to see if anyone else was in the garden.
"Don't worry," the gardener waved his hand. "There's no flaming swords around here." Then he wobbled his head and scanned the garden in a gesture of summation. "Of course, there ain't no trees of life here … yet."
"You!! You're the Bishop--from the airport!"
The gardener chuckled. "I can see that you still haven't shook off the--what'd they call it?--oh yeah, 'trauma' you suffered in the airport restroom. He's real astute, this one."
Sarcasm was the last thing Michael expected at this moment, but, then again, he'd thrown away expectations when, at that moment of truth with Matt last week, he'd adopted the rôle of Bishop. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
The dungaree-covered version of Michael held his arms opened wide (a shovel in his right hand) and scanned the garden. "I'm the gardener!" he hollered.
"Sshhh! Maybe we should take this outside the garden--"
"Hah!" guffawed the gardener. "He wants to take it outside! Boy, we're already outside! Anyway, you don't much seem to fancy flying the cover of this coop. Of course, covers are what yer all about, eh?"
"SShhh," Michael hissed. "I mean, take it outside the garden, into my, um, study."
"Your study? Boy, he's taken on airs!" Michael got the disturbing feeling that the gardener wasn't talking to him so much as to an audience surrounding them in the clouds. "That is, if you were being honest with yourself (and others) my study. And this is my garden that yer pecking around in. You're here on sufferance, son. Anyway, I ain't too keen on goin' anywhere with you. I'm liking this little role-playing I'm getting to do a lot more than I'd liked being a bishop. That's your job now."
And Michael could never remember how it happened, but the gardener turned around and was gone. He didn't *poof*, didn't walk away. He just turned around and was gone.
From the other side of the grape arbor, he could here the snipping of clippers. He raced around to find the gardener but saw only Miguel.
"Good day, Bishop Christopher," paused Miguel over the hedge he was clipping. "Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not really feeling myself," Michael said and stumbled away, never naming himself for Miguel.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 9:25 AM 0 comments
Labels: AmiCorp, Bishop Christopher, Gardener, Grape Arbor, Miguel
Monday, July 11, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 5
This installment of theComedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …The most difficult thing was going to be saying Mass, but Michael figured that he could beg off that for the time being based on his recent trauma, whatever that was. What bothered him most about this ruse was that he couldn't bring himself to violate the mark of the priesthood. Oh, he knew the Mass--how could he forget it? But to say it would be a defamation, a blasphemy. He wasn't a priest--but he seemed to be the only soul around this place that knew that!
Everyone fawned on him, except the housekeeper, Naomi. She didn't seem fazed by anybody. "Bishop Chris, I've seen mah share o' Bishops and Archbishops and what not. You all is men, with bellies and hearts and good souls. It ain't that I ain't a good Catholic or that I don't respect what de bishop do. Nope, I love you all. I jes always 'member that you is men. Y'know, I wash all de underwear, now don' I?"
He tried to stay around Naomi as much as would be plausible for "Bishop Christopher" while he "recuperated."
Speaking of which, he actually felt fine, like a load had been lifted. Yes, there was a dull ache for the mansion in his heart where Mara dwelt, but that room was locked up for the time being. He spent his time reading--mainly the General Instruction on the Roman Missal and Canon Law. Of course he said his Daily Office--he had never given that up, even when he'd left the path to the priesthood in his Diaconal year.
The Episcopal gardens were his favorite haunt. Easter was early this year, so the lilies were still blooming, and the Houston heat-miasma index had not yet reached the fourth-circle-of-Hades proportions that it would come Summer. He'd sit under the mustang grape arbor and read Morning Prayer, the bees around him humming like they had come alive straight out of the Papal Coat-of-Arms donated to the Archdiocese by John Paul II during his papal visit to Texas. He'd refused any advances from Matt regarding the media and exposure to the flock--things he knew he couldn't long put off.
"Your Excellence, the laity will be wondering what has become of you. As of yet, no one knows of how we found you in the Dallas airport men's room, unconscious and bleeding at the temples. Thankfully, Airport Security have not allowed the matter to reach the police blotter, but the media, especially the Catholic Press, are awaiting a statement and some sign that you have taken up residence. Moreover, your installment Mass is next Sunday."
Michael just nodded as he had walked down the ochre-carpeted hall to "his" study. "Well, Msgr. Morelli, a personage as distinguished as Abraham Lincoln had to sneak into Washington in disguise and under the cover of early morning darkness. He made out fine, I believe."
Matt paused. "Your Excellence, he was shot in the head by John Wilkes Booth."
Michael nodded and murmured to himself as he paused over the remembered conversation, "Well, it could've been worse--he could've been shot in the heart and bled out …"
"You'll more than murmur if one of them bees stings you!" said a voice from behind. He turned and saw the green-clothed, sweat-stained back of the gardener, a personage he'd had yet to meet. Name of Miguel.
When the gardener turned, Michael was stung by the face he saw … for it was himself.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 10:33 AM 1 comments
Labels: Gardener, Matt Morelli, Miguel, Naomi
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 4
©Randall A. Beeler, 2011
This installment of the Comedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to, or click on, Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …His eyes opened, and he saw Matt at his bedside, praying the Breviary. The Diocesan Vicar looked up and stared hard at him, an unguarded look on his face that Michael had seen rarely, even at seminary. "Who are you?" the Vicar asked Michael.
"Where I am--I mean, where am I?" Michael responded groggily. "This ain't the hospital, so I'm trusting that I won't be sledgehammered again by another syringe-wielding doctor."
The Vicar sighed, "An unfortunate precautionary measure, Your Excellency. Obviously, the hospital was disorienting you. We thought the Episcopal Residence would provide greater comfort and a chance for you to get settled."
Obviously, this wasn't a joke. Matt was dead serious about this whole Bishop thing. "So we're in the Archdiocese of Houston, right?"
The Vicar looked cautiously reassured. "Yes, indeed we are … your new home."
Michael looked around the room--a four-poster bed, flat-light-olive walls tastefully decorated in turn-of-the-century art work and furnishings, including a nightstand, bureau, wardrobe, bookcase, and prie-dieu, from over which an icon of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel stared at him. "Genuine hardwood floors and a Persian rug. Very nice. All the comforts the faithful can provide," Michael murmured.
"Yes, Your Excellence. We in Houston are quite proud of our heritage in Texas, and I know you must be anxious about your ascendancy to an arch-bishopric. We've been worried about the confusion you showed at the hospital. I'm glad to see that transporting you here has taken off some of the edge."
Michael stared at Matt for a good ten seconds during which his old seminary friend never broke character. He was in earnest--this thing, whatever it was, was real.
"Do you have a mirror I can glance at?"
Matt retrieved a small shaving mirror from the bathroom and handed it to him.
Michael couldn't hide the flinch as he saw himself--as someone else. He stared longer at the reflected image a lot longer than he had at Matt.
It was him, and it was not him. The face staring back at him was more worn with cares than he'd remembered, as if the breach with Mara had taken a toll on him that was not revealed till now. Still staring into the mirror, he raised his left hand to his temple to touch the white hair that had never before been there … till now … he looked like Dad had just before he'd …
"Bishop Christopher," asked Matt. "Are you alright?"
Slowly, Michael lowered the mirror and prepared to meet the gaze of the Vicar. This was a moment of decision. He could again try to shake this dream--this amnesia, this nightmare, once and for all. He could get up and scream like a madman that he was no Bishop, that he was far from home, that he was married, for Christ's sake!
Or he could play along. Could be someone else for a while.
His gaze met Matt's.
After all, isn't that what he'd wanted when he'd left Mara in darkness?
Posted by Randy Beeler at 4:15 PM 0 comments
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 3
©2011, Randall A. Beeler
This installment of the Comedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to or click on Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …He couldn't face Mara. So he left for work in the pre-dawn hours.
They'd set up a home for a family, living farther out of the Metroplex so that they could afford a house on his salary alone.
But the kids hadn't come. They'd tried so many doctors, with nothing precluded as to the cause of infertility. The possibilities abounded--it could be her, after all, her mother'd had a history of endometreosis. Endless sperms counts proved inconclusive--sometimes up, sometimes down. They'd even tried the most reliable method, Creighton, tracking her cycle. Nothing. No answers.
He worked hard, and she deserved better. The more that she didn't hold him guilty, that she just took it and received just his presence as a gift, the more he hated himself and stared back at her with recrimination. He could've taken blame and abandonment from her. Things hadn't worked out the way they'd planned them. But she stayed like it was … natural, like it was her duty. And that he couldn't abide. Duty, not love.
So, he'd made himself a ghost to her long before he was gone.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 12:56 PM 0 comments
Labels: Creighton Model, infertility, Mara, Metroplex
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 2
©2011, Randall A. Beeler
This installment of the Comedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
To start at the beginning of the story, either scroll down to or click on Episode 1.
So, live and as it happens, here is the next installment of The Bishop Tripped …When Mat-the-wanna-be-Diocesan-Vicar returned, he had Dr. Barfield in tow. "Matt, c'mon!" protested Michael. "The joke's gone too far. What the heck is going on here? And I'm getting out of this hospital bed, if only to pee."
The Diocesan Vicar shot a knowing glance at Dr. Barfield, and the two conferees started whispering together while Michael, on somewhat rubbery legs trotted to the toilet to answer the call of nature. He was in such a hurry that he never closed the door and noticed that Matt hastily did so behind him.
While he stood there pondering the thoughts of a peeing man, he tried to sort things out. Was he drugged up? Did someone slip him a roofie? He didn't feel drugged. Confused, yes, but not under-the-influence. And why were those two clowns out there still, uh … clowning around? If only he could remember what the heck had gone on in the last 24. With a sharp pang, he recalled that he'd driven to Love Field instead of going to work--he'd wanted to escape … Mara.
He shook his head to clear out the cobwebs and push down the memory. Shake the dew off the lily and go out there to get these guys straight.
He stepped out and started shedding his ultra-chic hospital gown. Matt immediately tried to turn Barfield away. "For crissakes, Matt! We were on the seminary swim team together--and he's a doctor for cryin' out loud!"
He stood there in the buff, now, arms akimbo, head swinging back-and-forth, searching the room. "Where the heck are my clothes?"
He spied the closet and immediately moved that way. Matt picked up Michael's shed gown and tried to step between Michael and the closet. "Uh, Bishop Christopher, Dr. Barfield and I both think you should reconsider going anywhere today. Why not put the gown back on or, um, if you prefer, just get back into bed, um … the way you are?"
"Yes," Dr. Barfield concurred. "Although we cannot discover a blow to the head, all your tests indicate trauma-like effects to your cerebrum, especially the frontal lobe, which governs inhibitions. To put it bluntly, Bishop, you are not yourself."
Michael opened the closet to find black clericals and the same pectoral cross the Bishop had been wearing. Turning to them, he held out the clothes and said, "Fellas, you certainly are thorough, all the way down to the civvies. Look, I don't know what's going on here, but it's no longer amusing. I've got a life to live, alright? And it has nothing to do with being a Bishop. Now, dammit, let me call Mara, and get the hell back to Dallas."
At the mention of the name, Mara, Matt's eyebrow shot up, and he glanced at Dr. Barfield who was already swinging into action. "You're right," said Barfield. "We aren't amusing, are we? Here, let me take those clothes away and get you your regular ones."
Michael started to hand over the clericals to the Doctor, but instead of taking them, Barfield simply grabbed his left arm and injected a syringe into the valve protruding from Michael's IV tape. Too swiftly, the blackness returned.
Posted by Randy Beeler at 10:33 AM 0 comments
Labels: Bishop Christopher, Dr. Barfield, Love Field, Mara, Matt Morelli
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Bishop Tripped, Episode 1
©2011, Randall A. Beeler
Greetings to all those who follow The Catholic Comedy. As many of you know, this site has been less active than normal due to busy-ness in my work and family life. However, in an effort to renew the Comedy, I am trying something different.As Michael Shephard waited for the now-late Jet Blue Flight #J1016 to arrive at Love Field boarding gate 19A, he knew a Bishop was staring at him. From across the row, he saw the pectoral cross, the Roman collar, the spectales, and the whitening hair at the temples. The presbyter stared at Michael like he knew him in some beyond-this-world way, knew him completely.
This installment of the Comedy is part of an original novel I am writing, called The Bishop Tripped: the story of a man, who, disillusioned, seeks to escape his life, only to be mistaken for a bishop--all the way to the miter, crozier, and diocesan bureaucracy.
None of this writing is edited. It is written as it happens, with every post I blog. No premeditation, other than a story trajectory in my imagination and the characters who will take it and run with it.
So, live and as-it-happens, here is the first installment of The Bishop Tripped …
But that was all Michael could remember.
He awoke to a clean-shaven, scrubbed, stethoscoped, mint-fresh breathed man shining a pen-flashlight into his eyes. "Pupils no longer dilated," the doctor said to himself as if a scribe inside his head was marking a case log inside his brain.
"Can you hear me, Your Excellency?" he said in the same monotone to Michael.
Was he talking to his mental note-taker again?
"Bishop Christopher, can you hear me?" The doctor was staring straight at him. Why was that Bishop's name familiar?
"I know you must be able to hear me, Your Excellency, because your eyes are reacting to the sound of my voice."
Michael looked around the room for the Bishop, but only he in his bed and the doctor on his rolling stool occupied the space.
"Bishop Christopher, you are in the Head-Trauma unit of Saint Maria Goretti Hospital. You have suffered what appears to be the results of a blunt-force trauma to the cranium, but we simply cannot find any physical trauma. Your head looks untouched and x-rays, CAT scans, and MRI reveal no internal injury. However, your brain patterns are radically different from the last MRI you had two years ago in Santa Fe."
"Are you talking to me, Doctor?"
"My name is Dr. Barfield--I'm the Chief Neurologist at SMG. The disorientation you're experiencing is certainly not uncommon to those experiencing cranial trauma. In fact, I warn you that you may undergo some significant temporary--or even permanent--personality changes. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Bishop Christopher?"
The Bishop! The Bishop at the airport--that was where he had heard that name before. "Uh, yes, I am feeling confused, but perhaps there's been some mistake--I'm not a Bishop. I met a Bishop Christopher at Love Field, but I'm the last thing you expect to be a Bishop. I was once in seminary … but that was long ago."
Dr. Barfield's brow furrowed. "I was in seminary, as an undergrad, for a short time. In my Sophomore year, I knew I had to be a doctor. Your confusion should clear up after a bit, for none of the tests demonstrate anything consistent with long-term memory loss. Do you need the Sacrament?"
"The Diocesan Vicar has been waiting here all night. Perhaps talking with him will help you gain your bearings."
Before Michael could stop him, the Doctor was out the door. Michael looked down at himself. He seemed the same--mole on the back of his right hand, childhood scar on the inside of his left forearm, above which an IV pumped some clear fluid into his left arm. But where was his wedding band? He looked around for his personal belongings on the nightstand but there he found only a plastic cup and pitcher of water.
What is Lord's name was going on? Saint Maria Goretti Hospital? Wasn't that in Houston? Had he forgotten an entire plane ride and how he landed in a hospital bed? He felt around for bumps or wounds to his head but found only his usual hair. A taste like iron stuck to the roof of his mouth and he was starting to realize that he needed to go to the bathroom.
The door opened and a soutaned man with a worried expression stepped in, his face lighting up when he looked at Michael.
"Thank God you've come around, Your Excellency! You've been unconscious for nearly 24 hours."
Michael looked searchingly at the man … something was undeniably familiar about his face. He could see it and recognize it but only a man gradually infers the image of a person when looking only at a shadow.
"Bishop Christopher, are you alright? Can I get you some water?"
Michael tried to speak, but he couldn't form the words. He squinted his eyes and made a few abortive attempts to say what was being dredged up from deep memory before the Diocesan Vicar poured some water and placed a cup in his hand.
Almost as if the water carried an electrical current, Michael dropped it tumbling to the floor and at the same moment shouted "Matt! Matt Morelli!"
The man had darted into the bathroom to retrieve some paper towels to mop up the water. When he returned and finally raised his head up from dabbing away the spill, his face was level with Michael's gaze, and Michael was sure--"Matthew Morelli! Son of a--"
"Yes, Bishop. I'm Msgr. Morelli. We met last month, after your appointment to the Arch-Diocese had been officially announced."
"So your the pranskter behind all this!" Michael laughed. "I might've known it would be you. But after all these years--why go to these lengths? I mean, we haven't seen each other since I left during my pastoral year!"
The would-be Monsignor cocked his head and looked at Michael with renewed concern. "Um, Your Excellency, I'm going to talk with Dr. Barfield for a moment. I'll be right back."
To be continued …
Posted by Randy Beeler at 11:44 AM 1 comments
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Are You Courageous Enough to Be A Priest?
©2011, Randall A. Beeler
Given the saturation of media attention aimed at Catholic priests for the criminality of the few who abused others and that of those who hid their crimes, it should come as no surprise that the backlash is an abuse of the vast majority of loving, courageous priests through a spate of false accusations. So the heinous crimes of a few reverberate to scar the innocent, as well as make a mockery of those who really were abused.
The word "courageous" comes from a root word, cor, meaning "full of heart." Archbishop of New York, Timothy Dolan is indelibly marked, heart and soul, as a priest in persona Christi. His response to being publicly accosted—merely for being a priest—demonstrates the heart of Christ.
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My husband and I are staying here for a long weekend to enjoy the fall foliage auto touring. We are in a king room which has a mini fridge and microwave. We got ground floor as requested, we are travelling with 2 little dogs. The price was good and no extra charge for the dogs! Check in was easy and friendly! Room was clean and the bed was nice and comfortable. There is a group of feral cats outside. They are so cute, with little kittens. I wish we could take one home. I wonder what will become of them as it is starting to get pretty cold. This is a good place to stay !!
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#Points in the bag
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Offaly top of Division 4 league table as Carlow, Longford and Antrim also claim victories
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Cork power past Clare in second-half to claim first hurling league win of 2015
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Fantasy Football preview: Suarez is the Red-hot pick
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Poll: Where do we stand on charity topless photo-shoots?
YOU'VE PROBABLY ALREADY seen these photos of Miss Bikini Ireland contestants going topless on Dublin's Harcourt Street on Sunday afternoon.
The photoshoot was arranged to promote both the competition and breast cancer awareness. However, it's come in for criticism from some quarters, with former Miss Ireland Holly Carpenter telling the Herald she didn't see how it was going to do anything to raise awareness.
The CEO of Miss Bikini told the paper the shoot wasn't aligned to any charity, "it's more to raise awareness than anything else". Greg Ryan rejected criticism of the event, saying people were trying to put a negative twist onto "something that was good".
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Three lessons I have learned building up a business
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AFL Rd 7 - Melbourne v Gold Coast
Jesse Lonergan of the Suns celebrates in the rooms after winning the... Nachrichtenfoto7. Runde,Australian Football,Australian Football League,Australien,Cricket-Platz von Melbourne,Feiern,Gewinnen,Gold Coast Football Club,Horizontal,Melbourne,Melbourne Demons,Sport,Sportbegegnung,StadionPhotographer Quinn RooneyCollection: Getty Images Sport 2013 Getty ImagesMELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA - MAY 12: Jesse Lonergan of the Suns celebrates in the rooms after winning the round seven AFL match between the Melbourne Demons and the Gold Coast Suns at Melbourne Cricket Ground on May 12, 2013 in Melbourne, Australia. (Photo by Quinn Rooney/Getty Images)


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World's Biggest Counterfeit Operation - Mike Maloney & Rick Rule
Join Mike Maloney & Rick Rule as they discuss the biggest counterfeit operation in the world - Quantitative Easing.
Banking Crisis - Bernanke Bust is Here - Mike Maloney
Here comes the Bernanke Bust
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Marc Faber - Markets Could Crash Like 1987
two possibilities of "longer-term unattractiveness": "a 1987-style collapse," or a 1973-74-style slow "sliding slope of hope."
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The Fed of Atlanta publishes a weekly, "REAL-TIME" look at the economy in their GDPNow economic forecast model. As shown below, the model, currently forecasts a significantly weaker 3rd quarter GDP than even the most bearish current... Read More »
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Gold and the Long Bond have notably outperformed since the FOMC Statement as the S&P has rallied all the way back to unchanged... (Silver & Crude are both up 5% since the FOMC Statement). Read More »
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James Rickards on the Federal Reserve, the state of the U.S. & global economy and oil prices.
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The Federal Reserve should consider ways to make monetary policy more accommodative, including negative interest rates Read More »
Something Blew Up In The Global Financial System
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According To Bernanke, This Was The "Biggest Impact Of QE"
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- The Road to Hyperinflation is Paved With War & Distrust
- Mike Maloney Predictions 2005 - Right or Wrong?
- Central Bank Gold Buying is a Game Changer
- The US dollar has Cancer - Mike Maloney
- Mike Maloney with Max Keiser - Hunt Bros
- Why Gold & Silver DVD Mike Maloney
- What To Buy
- First Hand Account - How Gold Jewelry Can Save Your Life
- How to Buy Silver Bars
- How to Buy Silver Coins
- IRS 1099 Gold Reporting - Private Gold? - Private Silver Bullion?
- Special Report - How to Avoid Fake Silver & Counterfeit Gold Products
- GoldSilver.com Testimonial
- MINING STOCKS vs PHYSICAL GOLD AND SILVER - Mike Maloney
- Is Now a Good Time to Buy?
- What Does a Silver & Gold Delivery Parcel Look Like?
- What To Buy
- What About Currency Devaluations?
- Investor Beware - Leverage Accounts
- Investor Beware - Mining Stocks or Bullion?
- Investor Beware - Numismatic Collector Coins
- Investor Beware - Gold ETFs - Silver ETFs - Expensive & Risky
- Common Gold & Silver Pitfalls to Avoid
- Criminal Gold Dealer Gets 5 Years for Fraud
- Torrent of Fake U.S. Silver Eagle Coins Floods Canadian Market
- The Collector Coin Confiscation Con - Numismatics
- Concerned About ETFs? You Should Be
- What About Currency Devaluations?
- The Benefits of a Segregated Gold Vault Account - Silver Vault Account
- How to Buy Silver Online
- How to Buy Gold Coins
- What To Buy
- How to Hide Your Gold and Silver
- What will the next asset class be after this gold bull market?
- Convert to a Physical Gold 401(k) & Silver 401(k)
- How to get Gold & Silver for your IRA
- Can I Store Gold and Silver in a Vault?
- The Benefits of a Segregated Gold Vault Account - Silver Vault Account