FIRST OBJECTION: It seems that the Litany of the Saints is that “many words” prayer which Christ condemns, when he says: “In praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the pagans do, for they think they will be heard for their many words” (Matthew 6:7). For in the litany many invocations are repeated, and the same response is often resumed, namely, “pray for us.” Therefore it seems that such a prayer is condemned.

SECOND OBJECTION: Moreover, the pagans thought they would be heard because of their many words. But in the litany one asks again and again, “pray for us,” and thus it seems that confidence is placed in repetition rather than in God who knows what we need before we ask.

THIRD OBJECTION: Moreover, the pagans recited many names, hoping that by such enumeration they would force a response from the deity. But the litany also sets forth a long series of names. Therefore it seems to differ only in names, not in kind.

ON THE CONTRARY, our Lord in the garden repeated the same prayer (see Matthew 26:44), and the Psalms frequently repeat the same refrains. Therefore repetition of words is not of itself blameworthy.

I ANSWER THAT, Christ does not condemn prayer because it has many words simply, but because it is empty and vain, when a man thinks he will be heard by the mere multitude of words, as though God were moved by quantity, or as though divine help could be obtained by formula, enumeration, or verbal force. This proceeds from a false imagination of the divine, as if God were ignorant and needed informing, or reluctant and needed wearing down, or changeable and could be compelled.

But the Litany of the Saints, according to the intention of the Church, is not ordered to controlling God, but to communion in Christ. The saints are not invoked as alternative deities, nor as powers competing with God, but as friends of God and members of the Body of Christ, that their prayers may be joined to ours. And repetition, when it is attentive and faithful, is not empty. It gathers the mind, trains desire, and signifies perseverance. Therefore the litany is not the “many words” Christ condemns, unless someone prays it with a pagan interior logic, placing confidence in the number of invocations rather than in the Father who already knows what we need.

REPLY TO THE FIRST OBJECTION: Not every multiplication of words is forbidden, but that which is vain and empty. But the litany, when said devoutly and attentively, is not empty.

REPLY TO THE SECOND OBJECTION: If someone thinks he is heard by repetition itself, this is a defect and savors of superstition. But this is not the Church’s intention, which places confidence in God and asks the saints’ intercession as help, not as a technique.

REPLY TO THE THIRD OBJECTION: A list of names can be used in two ways. In one way, superstitiously, as if names compel a response. In another way, religiously, to honor God in his saints and to ask their intercession. And the litany uses names in this second way.

LATIN

Utrum Litania Sanctorum sit illud multiloquium quod Christus reprobat (Matth. 6:7)

Ad primum sic proceditur. Videtur quod Litania Sanctorum sit illud multiloquium quod Christus reprobat, cum dicit: “Orantes nolite multum loqui sicut ethnici; putant enim quod in multiloquio suo exaudiantur” (Matth. 6:7). In litania enim multae invocationes repetuntur, et eadem responsio frequenter resumitur, scilicet: “Ora pro nobis.” Ergo videtur quod talis oratio sit reprobandа.

Praeterea, ethnici putabant se exaudiri propter multitudinem verborum. Sed in litania iterum atque iterum dicitur: “Ora pro nobis,” et sic videtur quod fiducia ponatur in repetitione potius quam in Deo, qui novit quid nobis opus sit antequam petamus.

Praeterea, ethnici multa nomina recitabant, sperantes quod per talem enumerationem responsionem a numine extorquerent. Sed litania etiam longum seriem nominum proponit. Ergo videtur quod non differat nisi in nominibus, non autem in genere.

Sed contra est quod Dominus in horto eandem orationem iteravit (cf. Matth. 26:44), et in Psalmis frequenter repetuntur eadem refranes. Ergo repetitio verborum non est per se vitiosa.

Respondeo dicendum quod Christus non reprobat orationem propter multitudinem verborum simpliciter, sed propter vanitatem et inanitatem, quando scilicet homo existimat se exaudiri ex sola multitudine verborum, quasi Deus quantitate moveatur, vel quasi per formulam, enumerationem, aut vim verborum auxilium divinum obtineatur. Hoc autem procedit ex falsa imaginatione de Deo, quasi sit ignarus qui instruendus est, vel reluctans qui fatigandus est, vel mutabilis qui compellendus est.

Litania autem Sanctorum, secundum intentionem Ecclesiae, non ordinatur ad Deum cogendum, sed ad communionem in

Christo. Non invocantur sancti quasi dii alternatives, neque quasi potestates Deo concurrentes, sed sicut amici Dei et membra corporis Christi, ut preces suas nostris adiungant. Et repetitio, si cum attentione et fide fiat, non est inanis, sed mentem colligit, desiderium exercet, et perseverantiam significat. Unde litania non est illud multiloquium quod Christus reprobat, nisi aliquis eam ore pagano, ponens fiduciam in numero invocationum potius quam in Patre qui iam novit quid nobis opus sit.

Ad primum ergo dicendum quod non omnis multiplicatio verborum prohibetur, sed quae est vana et inanis. Litania autem, cum devote et attente dicitur, non est inanis.

Ad secundum dicendum quod si quis existimet se exaudiri ex ipsa repetitione, hoc est defectus et sapit superstitionem. Sed hoc non est intentio Ecclesiae, quae fiduciam ponit in Deo et sanctorum intercessionem petit ut adiutorium, non ut artem.

Ad tertium dicendum quod catalogus nominum dupliciter adhiberi potest. Uno modo, superstitiose, quasi per nomina responsio cogatur. Alio modo, religiose, ad honorandum Deum in sanctis suis et ad petendam eorum intercessionem. Et hoc modo litania nomina profert.

This Word on Fire article argues exactly along those lines, from a former police officer’s perspective.

Read the Word on Fire article.

The news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination leaves a dull, heavy ache. It is the kind that makes you stop scrolling and actually think about what we are doing here and why it matters. Whatever your politics, the moment forces a reckoning. The ideological fight around us is not something you can shrug off anymore. It has consequences, and sometimes deadly ones.

Anger and fear are natural reactions. They are useful only when they point us to something better. The most useful response I can think of is not another tweet storm or a louder rant. It is the quieter and tougher work of looking inward and getting honest about the things that make us weak.

Here is what I mean. None of us shows up to the fight at full strength if our own inner life is a mess. Pride, hypocrisy, broken promises to God and family, those things are not private peccadilloes. They are cracks in our armor. You can shout at an injustice from the street all you want, but if you are hiding bitterness, secret sins, or cowardice at home, your voice will not last. It will not land. It will not persuade. It will not heal.

Charlie’s public life and faith, and now his violent death, have been a personal catalyst for me. It reminded me to be less casual about prayer, more intentional about how I love Becky, and more disciplined about modeling faith for others. His witness pushes me to make my life match my words, to make my faith visible where it matters most, in the quiet parts of life, not just in the public moments.

Let us be perfectly clear. The assassination of Charlie Kirk shattered any illusion that we can quietly agree to disagree with ideologies built on death and destruction. That illusion is gone. What happened was not random or meaningless. It was a deliberate strike in a much larger spiritual conflict. The people behind this kind of evil are not looking for dialogue, compromise, or peace. Their goal is domination. That means our response cannot be soft words or wishful calls for unity. Our response has to be clarity, conviction, and courage. We have to name evil for what it is and refuse to bend to it.

When we talk about responding to evil, we need to be precise. Saying “stand strong” or “fight back” is not an invitation to violence. It is a call to moral clarity and relentless personal integrity. The real enemy is not people we disagree with. The real enemy is whatever corrodes our ability to love, defend the vulnerable, and hold to truth. Apathy, cowardice, sloth, and hypocrisy are the things that wreck movements from the inside out.

So what does this look like in practice? A few straightforward and gritty steps you can walk into today:

• Start with honesty. Spend time in prayer or reflection and ask what is soft, secret, or showy in your life. Name it. Do not sanitize it.

• Clean house at home. Lead the prayer, have the hard conversations, and show up to what your family actually needs, not just what looks good on social media.

• Quit tolerating small compromises. If something in you is normalizing behavior that undermines your witness, it needs to go. Habits matter. Character matters more.

• Train for endurance. Spiritual courage is not a single heroic act. It is a thousand little choices to do the right thing when no one is applauding.

• Love people practically. Protect kids, defend truth gently, and help a neighbor. Bravery without kindness is still broken.

If enough of us did that hard inward work, the public fight would look very different. Politics and protests may trim branches, but root rot gets the last word unless we address it at the source, which is our own lives. Personal holiness and civic responsibility are not separate tracks. They feed each other. A disciplined household becomes a disciplined community. A community of disciplined people is a real antidote to cultural decay.

This is not comfortable. It is not glamorous. It is inconvenient, slow, and sometimes humiliating. But if you want to be the kind of person who can stand steadfast when ugly things happen, this is the training ground.

Armor up, not with slogans but with practice. Get to work on the small, private things that build unshakeable character. Do it relentlessly. Do it kindly. Do it now.

When public storms hit next, we will be less likely to break and more likely to build. That is the kind of witness that changes hearts, saves families, and, in time, reshapes a culture.

There’s a mountain to climb and the closer you get, the taller it seems to grow.

Every day brings setbacks. Rejections. Distractions. Personal challenges.

You hesitate. You procrastinate. You invent reasons why it’s not working.

Your energy gets drained worrying about things that don’t actually move you forward:

I didn’t get that job or opportunity. People don’t take me seriously. I’m not good enough.

You spend days, months, sometimes years stuck in your head.

Thinking, but not doing.

Waiting for the right moment. Waiting to be noticed. Waiting for clarity.

All the while, time slips by.

Somewhere between the fear of failure and the desire for perfection, you lose your momentum.

And before long, you find yourself back where you started.

The negativity becomes the loudest voice in the room.

Now even the idea of making progress feels heavy. So you stop.

You take a break, hoping something will just “click” one day.

But it won’t. Not unless you completely change your mindset.

You have to rewire your response to difficulty.

There is only one answer that ever truly works:

Work.

Not venting to friends. Not scrolling endlessly. Not talking about what you’ll do "someday."

Only action breaks the cycle.

The faster you stop overthinking and start producing, the faster you’ll move forward.

It’s not a mystery.

Imagine where you’d be if you replaced every excuse with effort.

If you can develop discipline, anything becomes possible.

When you feel tired - Work.

When you feel uncertain - Work.

When you get rejected - Work.

When you want to quit - Work.

When no one’s watching - Work.

That’s it.

Simple. Not easy. But always worth it.

We all get the same 24 hours.

Say "no" to the urge to stall, and "yes" to the grind.

You don’t have to be consumed by it. There is still a balance to be found.

But if you could just work instead of wait, create instead of procrastinate, great things will happen.

This isn't easy, but what's it going to hurt to try?

Two years ago, after living in Oregon for more than 30 years, I made the move to Idaho. While Idaho is now home, Oregon will always be a part of me. I still spend a considerable amount of time there—serving my clients, hanging out with long-time friends, and enjoying the contrast in weather, scenery, and culture. In many ways, I feel like I live in both places at once, appreciating the unique characteristics of each state. Idaho’s rugged wilderness and free American spirit inspire me with their emphasis on individuality and civic responsibility, but I’ll always have a deep fondness for Oregon’s progressive ideals and its vibrant, diverse landscapes.

I’ve always been fascinated by how the built environment of a society reflects its values. Architecture isn’t just about function or aesthetics; it’s a mirror of the culture that creates it, a way to capture values, priorities, and aspirations in physical form. This idea is especially clear when comparing the Oregon and Idaho State Capitols. Both buildings serve as symbols of governance, but their designs couldn’t be more different. Oregon’s stripped classical, Art Deco-inspired Capitol is modern and understated, while Idaho’s grand, Renaissance Revival Capitol embraces tradition and ornate detail. Each building tells a story about its state, revealing what the people of that time valued most.

Oregon: A Practical and Forward-Looking Approach

The Oregon State Capitol, built in 1938, stands out for its simplicity. Designed in the stripped classical style with hints of Art Deco, it doesn’t have the over-the-top ornamentation you might expect from a capitol building. Its white marble exterior is clean and streamlined, and its dome is a simple cylinder topped by the gilded statue of the “Oregon Pioneer,” a nod to the state’s history and the spirit of exploration.

Oregon’s Capitol feels very practical, much like the state itself. It doesn’t try to wow you with grandeur; instead, it quietly celebrates the region’s history and natural beauty. Inside, murals depict key moments in Oregon’s story, like the Oregon Trail. The whole building feels rooted in the state’s progressive, innovative mindset—focused on sustainability, community, and moving forward. While it’s not what you’d call flashy, it has its own charm, and it reflects Oregon’s forward-thinking values.

Idaho: Tradition and Grandeur

On the other hand, the Idaho State Capitol, completed in 1920, takes a completely different approach. It’s a showstopper. Inspired by classical architecture, it looks like it could have been plucked right out of ancient Rome or Greece—or at least Washington, D.C. Its grand dome, flanked by towering Corinthian columns, is the kind of thing that makes you stop and stare. Inside, there’s marble everywhere—red, green, and gray—along with intricate plasterwork and other fine details that make the building feel both timeless and impressive.

Idaho’s Capitol speaks to something deeper: a sense of pride in the state and its connection to enduring democratic ideals. By echoing classical architecture, it ties Idaho to centuries of governance and tradition. It’s not just a building; it’s a statement about strength, stability, and the importance of history. To me, that kind of grandeur feels inspiring. Walking through its halls, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride—not just in Idaho, but in the country as a whole.

Why I Prefer Idaho’s Capitol (But Respect Oregon’s Too)

Having lived in both states, I can see the appeal of both designs, but Idaho’s Capitol speaks to me in a way Oregon’s doesn’t. I appreciate the sense of aspiration and pride that comes through in the ornate details and classical elements. It feels bigger than just Idaho—it feels connected to something larger, like the ideals of democracy and civic responsibility. The building makes a statement about who we are and what we value, and it’s a place where you can feel proud to be part of this state and this country.

That said, I respect Oregon’s Capitol for what it is. Its simplicity and modern feel reflect Oregon’s practical, forward-looking nature, and I can see why that would resonate with people who value innovation and understated beauty. While it doesn’t have the same emotional pull for me, it’s a building that feels very true to Oregon’s identity, and I admire that.

Two States, Two Stories

Ultimately, these two capitols are more than just government buildings. They tell stories about the states they represent. Oregon’s Capitol captures a progressive, community-focused spirit, while Idaho’s celebrates tradition, pride, and history. Both are reflections of their people, their values, and their aspirations. And while I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Idaho’s grand, classical design, I can appreciate the unique charm and meaning behind Oregon’s simpler, more modern approach.