Masculinity

July 21, 2021 By John Heinen Leave a Comment

How A Single Guy Can Get A Date

In this episode of The Catholic Gentleman, John and Sam discuss the timeless requirements of a man within the modern dating scene. They bring clarity to what is the appropriate outlook with dating and how gentlemen should view relationships within the wisdom of the Church.

In this episode we discuss;

Why You Should Always Avoid Sneaky Dating
Learn To Listen In The Digital Space
How To Protect Her Dignity and Yours
Why Courage Is Necessary And Masculine
And More…

Catholic Gentleman thanks our Sponsor CatholicMatch – Create Your FREE Account Now – Click Here

For Additional Guidance and Tips on Relationships – Click Here

July 13, 2021 By John Heinen Leave a Comment

The Heroic Life Of A Gentleman (with Kevin Wells)

In this episode of The Catholic Gentleman, John meets with Kevin Wells to discuss the life of a man and likely future saint that we can all learn a great deal from. If you have never heard of Venerable Fr. Aloysius Schwartz, who died in 1992 after saving tens of thousands of children, this episode is worth your time. His adventurous spirit and passionate devotion to Our Lady brought him to the depths of faith that few of us achieve in this life. His work and legacy continue today through the order of the Sisters of Mary.

In this episode we discuss;

How Fr. Al Schwartz fought corruption
His never-ending drive to follow God’s will
How he physically fought a mob boss
His love of The Virgin of the Poor and Her miraculous working in his life
And More…

Priest and Beggar: The Heroic Life of Venerable Aloysius Schwartz – Click Here

World Villages for Children (Sisters of Mary) – Click Here

Kevin Wells is a former Major League Baseball writer, award-winning journalist, and the best-selling author of The Priests We Need to Save the Church. He is a freelance writer and an active evangelist who speaks on various Catholic topics. He is the President of the Monsignor Thomas Wells Society, which is dedicated to the promotion of strong priests and seminarians, and to the practice of the fullness of the Catholic faith. Kevin lives in Millersville, MD with his wife and three children.

July 6, 2021 By John Edwards Leave a Comment

Strength in Vulnerability

So many men today walk around as if they have it all figured out and they don’t have a problem in the world. The “strong” silent type, if you will. I know this for a fact. I used to do the same thing.

So much of my life was spent walking like a one-man army, convincing myself that I didn’t need anybody or anything. That’s what the world, the flesh, and the devil would have you believe. They fill your head full of lies and trick you into thinking that it is weak to have feelings, problems, or to admit that you need other people in your life. This plays right into the devil’s hands because it allows him to keep men on the sidelines and out of the game. Instead of being the men that we were created to be, we waste away in idleness, isolation, and addictions. We remain immature selfish boys, who fill our time trying to avoid our issues by drinking to deal with work stress, watching porn to deal with loneliness, experimenting with drugs and countless other things, all the while withdrawing further and further from our faith, family, and friends.

Does this sound like strength to you? Not to me. I know it doesn’t to God.

In fact, in 2 Corinthians 12:9 God tells Paul, “My power is made perfect in weakness.” You see, to God, strength is found in admitting your weaknesses. It’s in our vulnerability that we find strength.

We become truly vulnerable when we admit our shortcomings in three ways. We must become vulnerable to ourselves, to God, and to those around us. This is the pathway of true biblical strength that God calls us all to.

The first step is to become vulnerable with yourself. We have to start speaking truth to ourselves. Many men know deep down that they have a certain problem or sin that is taking hold in their life. The problem is, many they never really admit it. They sweep the thought under the rug before they have any time to really deal with it. This is usually done with the lies the enemy is spinning in a man’s head. If he can make you believe you don’t have an issue, then you will never break free from it. This is why it is crucial for a man to become vulnerable with himself and the reality of his situation. We can never begin to move forward if we aren’t truthful about our sins and the hold they have over us.

The second step in finding strength in vulnerability is to become vulnerable with God. We cannot fix the issues in our lives on our own. Most of the time we have found ourselves with a bigger problem strictly because we are trying to deal with it alone. When God told Paul that His power was made perfect in weakness, he was trying to get him to understand that it is through humility that we find our strength. You see when we come to know how weak we are on our own, we come to the realization that we need God. When we are humbled by our own lack of strength we begin to understand that our strength has to come to from God. It is that dependance on God and the power of the Holy Spirit that he has placed within us that gives us true strength.

God has even given us the perfect sacrament in which to become vulnerable. We need to meet God in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. That’s right. We need to become vulnerable to God in the confessional. It is there that we can admit our faults and the need for His help. It is there that we can receive absolution and the grace to be able to move forward. We can not get past our sins, our mistakes, and our failures without become vulnerable with Him.

The last step in finding strength in vulnerability is to become vulnerable with others. Now, I am not saying you need to shout all your sins from the roof tops for everyone to hear. That would be foolish. No, we need to find trustworthy men that are walking in virtue and holiness and confide in them. There was a reason that Jesus sent the disciples out two by two. He knew if one fell there was another to pick him up. There is strength in numbers and there is nothing like being held accountable by a brother who cares about you. When you become vulnerable with a brother, it forms a bond that is very hard for the devil to break. It also allows that brother to become vulnerable himself.

Vulnerability is where change begins to happen. When we admit to God, ourselves, and our peers what we are struggling with in life, we take away all power and hold the devil has over us. No longer can he whisper in our ear that we aren’t good enough, that people will hate us, or that we will lose everything. He can no longer scare us with lies about what being vulnerable will cost us. It’s in our total vulnerability that the devil becomes weak. That virtual prison cell that he has built around us begins to crumble. He can no longer threaten us with the idea that others will find out because we have told everyone that matters already. We render him powerless over us. We once again become clay, that in the hands of the great Potter, can begin to be molded into His original grand design. We become free. We can finally experience the peace that God desires for us. We can truly begin to live.

So take a good look at what’s holding you back. Make the decision to become vulnerable with yourself and God in the confessional. Find a group of brothers to become weak with. Follow in St. Paul’s footsteps and become “content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when you are weak, then you are strong” (2 Cor 12:10).

Author: John Edwards is a husband, father, and Catholic speaker. He is the founder of Pew Ministries and the host of the podcast “Just a Guy in the Pew.“

September 22, 2020 By Tyler Blanski 1 Comment

Fathers, Don’t Tap Out

The kids were out of control and so were the bills, my relationship with my wife felt strained, and I honestly didn’t think I could handle the stress at work anymore. I’ll never forget the day it all seemed to come crashing together. It looked like an ugly self-portrait, an American Gothic with me holding a pitchfork next to an unhappy spouse, the family farm up in flames. For a moment, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to engage or run away.

I wasn’t literally going to pack a suitcase or anything. But I was tempted to “check out.” Maybe retreat into my phone or suddenly start a new project that would give me an excuse to be away more. There have been days where I’ve been tempted to disengage or give in.

On the other hand, there are days when the father in me is a roaring bear. I’m ready to fight for my family, to guard the culture in our home, to provide, to lead, to bring the joy. And I think this sense of “fight” is more natural to a father; maybe it’s the male version of the “maternal instinct.” Every challenge is a choice, to fight or to flee, and the fathers I admire choose to stay and engage, to be a force for good.

Fight or flight?

Maybe all dads experience, at one point or another, fight-or-flight mode. There are countless stressful situations—a baby’s looming due date, the moment you realize that your old life is over, seeing your wife struggle with post-partum depression, hearing that your son is being bullied at school, worrying about losing your job, not being able to pay the mortgage—that ignite a man either to fight the threat or to flee to safety.

We’ve all heard the famous saying, “life is 10% what happens and 90% how you react to it.” Fight-or-flight mode evolved as a survival mechanism, enabling dads to react quickly to life- threatening situations: “If you so much as touch my kid, I will kill you!” Over time, the bear killer became a breadwinner, but the old instincts are still there. Men still love politics, hunting, building things, fixing things, finding things, and generally fighting a good fight.

Yet our culture faces a crisis of fatherhood. The divorce rates, the number of children born out of wedlock, the stories of abuse or neglect or the rise of inner-city gangs, Hollywood and higher education’s scorn of all things male—none of this is news to you. Where have all the bear-hunters-turned-father and breadwinners gone?

The good news is, they’re everywhere, they’re just working behind the scenes—working to provide for their families, to guard the culture of their homes, to have a positive impact in the world. And I want to find those men and learn from them. Don’t you? I want to learn from them because as challenging as fatherhood can be I don’t ever want to tap out. This is the vocation to which God has called me—and it’s beautiful and challenging and profoundly rewarding.

There is always a choice

That day in the garage I realized that not fighting for my family was actually a form of flight. It’s throwing in the towel—retreating into your phone, getting lost in hobbies, fleeing to the office or to the bar, not asking your wife for forgiveness, tolerating your children’s bad behavior, not listening and not speaking up, choosing the easy path. You’re not fighting for your family or bringing them to higher ground; you’re just looking out for Number One. No matter what the battle is, the story of a dad in flight always ends with, “And the bugle sounded a retreat.”

Many dads feel, at one point or another, the primal instinct to run away from the demands of family life. They might not literally pack the suitcase, but they’re tempted to “check out,” these days usually into their cell phones. Can you blame them?

When it comes to dadness, the game never ends—there’s no neutral ground on the field, no breather, no room on the bench. But there is always a choice. You can choose to retreat or you can choose to run into the fray, to engage. It’s fight or flight, and the best of us show up—ideally, prepared and with a plan.

But that day I realized that, ultimately, it’s up to me. I knew I wanted to choose engagement—and engagement is always choice.

A decision: the most powerful force on the planet

The most unstoppable force on the planet is a decision. If you’re a father, you already made the decision to get married and have children. But when’s the last time you decided to be great? One of the many things I’ve learned from CEO and Relevant Radio’s success coach Dave Durand is that every decision is actually two decisions:

Decide to do it
Decide to be great at it

How many people want an eye doctor who decided to be a doctor but didn’t decide to be great at it? Who wants to drop their car off with a mechanic who decided to be a mechanic but was only so-so? Whatever it is you know you’re meant to do, don’t just decide to do it—decide to be great. Because you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’ve already decided to marry a beautiful woman and have children. But now it’s time to decide to be great.

“People need me now; they’re counting on me.”

“I can’t miss this opportunity.”

“If I don’t act now, I’ll regret it forever.”

This is the way fathers talk. They are on a path of purpose, and men like that don’t have

time for excuses. They don’t even consider bailing on their responsibilities, “cutting people out” of their lives, or divorce. They’ve decided to leave a legacy, and so they get out of their own way and go for it.

I think the best fathers keep “fighting for milk” because they know that fatherhood is more than just a biological fact; it’s a skill that can be developed with effort. It’s a vocation. The goal isn’t a mistake-free dad. The goal is a dad who doesn’t tap out. The goal is a dad who decides to be great. Apply yourself each and every day to becoming a little better. Over a period of time, you will become a lot better.

That’s why the Fight for Milk Apostolate has been formed. No one became an awesome dad by proclamation. He moved toward it by taking a journey. No matter where you are in your journey, anyone can become an even better husband, father, breadwinner, or leader. But in all likelihood, no one has poured into you and blessed you in a very long time…even though it’s your job to pour into others and to bless them!

So Fight for Milk brings men together who are serious about their faith and their vocation to fatherhood to never stop learning and growing. Imagine men who have energy, who believe, who listen, who stay—dads who get it done, and love what they do. Imagine the ways they could impact their families, their parishes, the world.

Will you engage, or will you settle for the status quo? Will you reach for a better life, or will you retreat into your phone? Will you do the bare minimum or will you decide to be great? It’s fight or flight.

I can get overwhelmed by the sheer size of the project—fatherhood includes everything from growing professionally to mastering basic home maintenance to what St. Paul calls “pleasing your wife” (1 Cor. 7:34). But I know that, in the path of holiness, I have what it takes. You have what it takes. The fight for milk is, after all, you’re your vocation.

So let me ask you, what will choosing to be great make possible for you? You could transform your marriage. Make a career pivot. Launch a renewed relationship with your kids. Live an ordinary and yet unforgettable story.

Someday, I’d love to hear the tale.

Learn more at www.fightformilk.com

Tyler Blanski is a Catholic father, the author of An Immovable Feast, and the founder of the Fight for Milk apostolate. He lives in Minnesota with his wife and three children. Learn more at www.fightformilk.com

April 4, 2019 By Jason Craig 5 Comments

What Jayber Crow Can Teach Us About the Priesthood and Celibacy

As someone who sees perennial bachelorhood as a societal sickness, recommending Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry might seem counterproductive. Jayber, Berry’s main character in the novel, is a small-town barber that finds himself an “ineligible bachelor,” as he puts it. He never marries, never has kids, and in that way is “free” of the burdens of family. However, Jayber’s life unfolds in a priestly and sacrificial way, celibacy included. As a husband following Jayber’s story, I found myself cherishing my own marriage and seeing the gravity of my role more clearly, and valuing more the priesthood associated with masculinity.

Jayber is orphaned at a young age and finds himself in intuitions that are clearly dehumanizing – first he’s in an orphanage and then a seminary. Both places he sees in contrast to the countryside and its river-based economy of his youth. He especially hates men in authority talking over desks to subordinates. Jayber develops an instinctual trust for organic cultural realities like small towns, agriculture, and families, and a mistrust of powerful, self-referential, and overconfident “authorities” like financiers, agri-businessmen, and politicians. He operates a barbershop for decades but retires to a small cabin on the river after a government inspector informs him that his source of hot water (a kettle on a woodstove) is not considered “running hot water,” as stated by some barber-code Jayber’s never read. His trade continues, though, when he and his community work out an arrangement wherein he gives out free haircuts in his bathroom-less cabin and they give him donations. It’s an example of the spontaneous yet organic ability of real people to work out economic sanity. This backwoods barbershop rebellion is but a continuation of Jayber’s refusal to play the games of the expert and the bureaucrat.

Jayber Crow is frequently compared to Dante’s Inferno, because the story is drawn forward by his love for a woman – Mattie Chatham – that he never possesses, as Dante is pulled toward heaven by the beauty of Beatrice.[1] But I think the priestliness of Jayber is also an apt image that helps us understand the power of the story. Jayber’s priesthood, first of all, is through the fact that he takes in the workworn men of his town and sends them back out, “baptized” in a fresh cut and shave. He speaks of his love for them, and willingly fulfills the “position” of a barber, a real vocation, as one customer puts it contrasting that word with a “line of work”. On the other end of life, he also is the local gravedigger for the town church. As with barbering, this is an eminently practical way to love his community in the sacramentality that Wendell Berry sees in common life. Jayber even at one point has a mystical experience in the church (which, institutionally speaking, he is somewhat distant from) wherein he sees his community – dead and alive – raptured in song and belonging.

But Jayber can also be compared to a priest when he embraces celibacy out of love for Mattie Chatham, the love he never possesses. He even makes a vow, which he is inspired to do after he was on a date with his next-town-over girlfriend (he was not celibate before the vow). During that date he sees Troy, Mattie’s husband, with another woman. As Troy catches Jayber’s eye he gives a sign of comradery, almost seeming to brag that he’s with another woman in a freedom like Jayber’s. Jayber knew Mattie to be one of the purest signs of beauty and goodness in the world, so Troy’s infidelity, his assault on the truth of Mattie, repulses him so much that he flees the party by climbing out of the bathroom window, sells his car, and roots himself completely in his own town and in the place of his work. He never parties in the next town again. During this conversion – literally on the drunken walk home – he makes a solemn vow, which he keeps for life, of being “faithful” to Mattie to, in a way, set right the imbalance of unfaithfulness that Troy’s cheating creates. He’s a bachelor for life, but he has given up the false freedom that comes with that and gives himself totally to a love he will likely never enjoy, in an earthly way, in this life.

Jayber never “makes a move” on Mattie, and never explicitly reveals the vow he has taken. He simply transforms his bachelorhood into a sacrificial celibacy, not because he does not believe in marriage, but because he does. And by embracing this self-gift, Jayber finds himself finally and fully rooted in his place, able to grow old and wise in the company of his people. (How many priests, shuffled every few years to new places, never get to feel such things.) Before the vow he was a bachelor, one foot in his town and another in the next (where the women-for-bachelors were), but by his vow he grows up and gives himself totally to his vocation, which, although unique, is real and beautiful.

Wendell Berry’s novels are not kitsch small-town clichés, like Norman Rockwell in print. Rather, they reveal the truth behind modernity’s love-affair with autonomy and false freedom. Marriage points to the future reality of man’s union with God, and it does so by directing our freedom away from self-love toward sacrificial love. Priestly celibacy points us to the same reality, by living that full, sacrificial union with God in this life. Jayber Crow not only pulls the veil on the false freedom of chosen bachelorhood, but displays the mystery of love and sacrifice that, like Dante’s love for Beatrice, is more than just being able to physically embrace one’s love, but to give our total life without the expectation of reward.

This article was originally printed in the quarterly magazine for men, Sword and Spade, which is edited by Jason Craig.

[1] A particular good essay is Anthony Esolen’s “If Dante Were a Kentucky Barber” in The Humane Vision of Wendell Berry, published by ISI Books, Wilmington, DE

Jason Craig works and writes from St. Joseph’s Farm in rural North Carolina with his wife Katie and their five kids. Jason is the author of Leaving Boyhood Behind and Director of Program and Training for Fraternus, a mentoring program for young men, and holds a masters degree from the Augustine Institute. He is known to staunchly defend his family’s claim to have invented bourbon.