That word signifies a law of the universe — the tendency of all things to decompose, to fall apart, to decay. Eventually, of course, it means the end of the universe itself. We get a glimpse of it in the fall (this is not just physics, it’s biology as well) amid the splendor of the dying maple leaves. It poses a question.
That question was articulated by Leonard Mlodinow, the physicist and screenwriter: “…if the natural tendency of the universe is disorder, then where does the order of life come from?” Einstein loved simple answers to complicated questions, and this one comes from a seven-year-old — “Isn’t God the author of life?” He designed life’s questions to be understandable to the simple. Why not everybody?
Sometimes when we consider the complexities of life, we wonder, what can the uneducated make of it? That may be why Einstein looked for the simplest answer.
Of all the good things the Lord provides, there is nothing like a freshly made omelet. My wife usually adds a strawberry preserve in the fold, and that makes it outrageous. It can be had here in Western Civilization, one of the advantages of living in this part of the globe.
You need fresh eggs, a bowl to mix them in, a little milk to give it consistency and a frying pan with a non-stick surface and a source of heat. Butter will make it a non-stick surface. Cook until the surface is solid, slide onto a plate, and fold over the strawberry preserve.
When you eat it, make a resolution to contribute to one of the charities that relieve world hunger.
“He writes too much religious stuff.” That’s a criticism that no doubt has been leveled at me. But little do they know that has made me mentally tough, able to withstand the things that should have broken me. I cannot talk about them now, or until the next world (of which I am sure), but, believe me, you may only think you know something about my past.
Religion has been for me what it has been for many people in history, a rock, a stronghold. It has been a Burg, a fortress or castle in German, my native Swiss language.
So I say prayers to Jesus Christ, the Son of Man as he is called, who endured much more and made it.
We have just seen fall in its splendor of colors, one of the best years for that in a long time. It was the fall of the pandemic year 2021, and the author of the universe thought we needed a respite from our self-inflicted Covid-19.
Humans have to take some of the blame, though that in no way diminishes the reds and yellows and pinks and orange colors that gave us so many glorious fall days. Thanksgiving was a day to be grateful for days we got without cost.
I’m not saying life consists of days without pain, but don’t let the pain obscure the beauty that we frustrated seekers for heaven have the ability to appreciate.
A conservative think tank wants me to protest CUA’s (Catholic University of America) depiction of George Floyd as the crucified Christ. I will not. Catholic University is right on track. Sure, George Floyd had a long rap sheet, but didn’t Christ come to redeem sinners?
I in no way blame Officer Chauvin for the death, which seemed unintended, but Catholic University is on track in portraying Christ as a co-sufferer in representing the class-less and oppressed minions of the world. Christ, too, was an outcast.
If by some odd chance I ended up with a rap sheet like George Floyd, please God stand up for me too.
There is a connection between the mental (spiritual) and the divine. People like St. Francis of Assisi, St. Therese of Lisieux, and others, show that divine inspiration was the source of their wisdom. Prayer was the medium of their contact, but we might say it was pure thinking.
Francis showed his disdain for earthly goods by being happy through poverty and a simple life, and Therese got joy out of praying for others and watching the results. I rely for my good ideas in writing on the Holy Spirit, whose aid I seek in prayer.
I attribute ten published books to that source, and wonder how I did it. Of course, I had the help of Amazon, so it was partly earthly.