The violence that erupted at the hands of an angry, entitled individual in California last week is disturbing. We cannot know what caused him to act this way, but the Twitter response #YesAllWomen has been both heartbreaking and important, as it sheds light on the prevalent mentality that men have a right to women's bodies.
And, so I bring you my hash tag here, to the blog, because it was simply too much to choose from before posting to Twitter.
#YesAllWomen because I can name four close friends who were raped, and none of the rapists were held accountable.
#YesAllWomen because in the workplace, a women who is aggressive and business-like is called a b*tch, while her male counterpart is called a leader.
#YesAllWomen because you can be called "too sensitive" for calling out sexual harassment in the workplace and find yourself out of work, while the offender gets promoted.
#YesAllWomen because in my church growing up, I was taught that women were responsible for men's lustful thoughts by not dressing modestly enough.
#YesAllWomen because in my church growing up, a female couldn't so much as read the announcements, since women couldn't have "authority" over men.
#YesAllWomen because it wasn't until I taught a self-defense class in college that I realized what my parents did to me was physical abuse.
#YesAllWomen because to this day, my father believes he is my "authority" because I am unmarried.
#YesAllWomen because birth control pills are a class one carcinogen, and we are fed them like candy by ignorant doctors.
#YesAllWomen because every boss I've ever had has been a white male.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Friday, May 23, 2014
Prayer
I've been reading a lot of books in preparation for marriage (and I read a lot in general), but it occurred to me that as much as I desire a great marriage and worry about things and think about our future married life together, I don't consistently pray for my fiance.
Wait, what?
Yeah, for real.
I realized that I tend to pray when I'm in church, whether for mass or eucharistic adoration. I tended to go to adoration a LOT more last year before my new workout routine took the place of that on my daily commute this year, and during the rest of the day/week, I tend to pray in desperate moments or occasionally in moments of thanksgiving. I might offer up a halfhearted Our Father as I drift off to sleep, and I often listen to religious broadcasting (podcasts, radio, etc.), but basically, my prayer life sucks.
I have operated under the assumption that G-d knows my heart, less is more, and that I keep G-d in my mind and heart without having a set schedule/routine of prayer. I guess I thought it was working for me.
But, lately, I started to realize that maybe that's not the best way. I'm not a "spiritual, but not religious" type. I'm spiritual and religious. I see the value in religion, and I love my Catholic faith. In other areas of my life, it doesn't work for me to have zero structure. I have to plan when and how I work out in order to exercise at all. I have to set an alarm clock to get up and go to work. I plan each week and put it on my calendar that I will go to mass. Even my fiance and I set regular date nights and regular "work on the relationship" nights (different from dates). I plan and cook my meals for the week in advance so I'm encouraged to make healthy choices. So, why did prayer slip into the nebulous area of self-governance? Or an internal matter of the heart only?
I think I still have a lot of residual rebellion. Part of it is my prideful and selfish nature. Part of it is the inherent rebellion of Protestantism that remains (no offense to Protestants, this is just something I'm still unraveling in my own experience). I feel like I can take matters into my own hands and be just as well off. I feel like I can be my own authority and be great. I feel like my wisdom outweighs the wisdom of 2,000 years of Church wisdom and authority from Christ Himself. And (news flash), it doesn't compare.
It is important and necessary to have a personal relationship with G-d, but that does not mean a relationship without structure, format, or follow-through. A relationship of simply good intentions really doesn't do much in the "real world," and I doubt it does much in the spiritual realm either. I love the liturgy of the Church. Why am I so reluctant to apply some liturgy/structure/a plan to my own prayer life?
Well, after reading some marriage preparation books and thinking about all this stuff, after surviving yet another mediocre Lenten season, I have become really convicted and aware of how much I do not pray for my fiance. I have all these hopes, fears, expectations, worries. They come through my mind as fleeting thoughts or disastrous, panicky thoughts. I might pray in that moment, but why am I not consistently praying for him? The Bible talks about "when you pray and fast", not "if you pray and fast..."
So, I really believe the Holy Spirit is revealing to me that I am called to pray for my future husband. Not in a fleeting, passing, mediocre way, but in an intentional, consistent way. In fact, I need to fast and pray for our marriage, and for other needs of the world and my family. The more I realize the self-sacrificing love that marriage requires of me and my fiance, I am convinced that is the life I am called to, but I am also terrified. When I see threats to our relationship, whether internal or external, I realize that I could have done more on my part to pray for him and us, not just put out a fire as it happens or become overtaken with anxiety. I know that prayer isn't a magic fix for everything, but I do believe it works. It is powerful. It involves G-d, not just me. And at the very least, I can die a little bit to myself as I pray for these intentions.
So, I may have been Catholic now for eight years, but I'm just now figuring out that maybe I need to pray in a more Catholic way. I've got a prayer book, and I may buy a Liturgy of the Hours book (we will see how well this goes first before I take that leap). But each day, I'm going to say prayers - written prayers by others, or reading the Bible in the form of Psalms or Proverbs as prayer. I'm going to say prayers in the morning and at night. I'm going to mention my needs, intentions, and requests by name, and I'm going to fast each week for our marriage. Fridays, perhaps?
I am excited about this because I know it's the right thing to do. I'm also a little worried that I'm behind. Why didn't I think of this already? Why haven't I been doing this since before we even dated, or since we got engaged? I'm too selfish to do this on my own. It's taken years for G-d to make me aware of this area of neglect. I want to be a supportive wife, and one way I can do this is try pray, pray, pray for my husband and marriage. (And other needs.)
It's been a journey with G-d. While I've been Catholic now for about eight years, it wasn't until I began going to the sacrament of reconciliation consistently and also until I stopped committing mortal sin consistently that I have finally heard G-d's voice in my life and grown deeper and deeper. I still have a long way to go, but staying close to G-d in the sacraments has finally gotten through to me. Confession is powerful. It has brought more grace to me than anything. Once I got honest and agreed with G-d about what is wrong and what is right, doing the right thing became so much easier because I had the grace to do it and I had confessed my sins. More on that another time.
Pray on!
Wait, what?
Yeah, for real.
I realized that I tend to pray when I'm in church, whether for mass or eucharistic adoration. I tended to go to adoration a LOT more last year before my new workout routine took the place of that on my daily commute this year, and during the rest of the day/week, I tend to pray in desperate moments or occasionally in moments of thanksgiving. I might offer up a halfhearted Our Father as I drift off to sleep, and I often listen to religious broadcasting (podcasts, radio, etc.), but basically, my prayer life sucks.
I have operated under the assumption that G-d knows my heart, less is more, and that I keep G-d in my mind and heart without having a set schedule/routine of prayer. I guess I thought it was working for me.
But, lately, I started to realize that maybe that's not the best way. I'm not a "spiritual, but not religious" type. I'm spiritual and religious. I see the value in religion, and I love my Catholic faith. In other areas of my life, it doesn't work for me to have zero structure. I have to plan when and how I work out in order to exercise at all. I have to set an alarm clock to get up and go to work. I plan each week and put it on my calendar that I will go to mass. Even my fiance and I set regular date nights and regular "work on the relationship" nights (different from dates). I plan and cook my meals for the week in advance so I'm encouraged to make healthy choices. So, why did prayer slip into the nebulous area of self-governance? Or an internal matter of the heart only?
I think I still have a lot of residual rebellion. Part of it is my prideful and selfish nature. Part of it is the inherent rebellion of Protestantism that remains (no offense to Protestants, this is just something I'm still unraveling in my own experience). I feel like I can take matters into my own hands and be just as well off. I feel like I can be my own authority and be great. I feel like my wisdom outweighs the wisdom of 2,000 years of Church wisdom and authority from Christ Himself. And (news flash), it doesn't compare.
It is important and necessary to have a personal relationship with G-d, but that does not mean a relationship without structure, format, or follow-through. A relationship of simply good intentions really doesn't do much in the "real world," and I doubt it does much in the spiritual realm either. I love the liturgy of the Church. Why am I so reluctant to apply some liturgy/structure/a plan to my own prayer life?
Well, after reading some marriage preparation books and thinking about all this stuff, after surviving yet another mediocre Lenten season, I have become really convicted and aware of how much I do not pray for my fiance. I have all these hopes, fears, expectations, worries. They come through my mind as fleeting thoughts or disastrous, panicky thoughts. I might pray in that moment, but why am I not consistently praying for him? The Bible talks about "when you pray and fast", not "if you pray and fast..."
So, I really believe the Holy Spirit is revealing to me that I am called to pray for my future husband. Not in a fleeting, passing, mediocre way, but in an intentional, consistent way. In fact, I need to fast and pray for our marriage, and for other needs of the world and my family. The more I realize the self-sacrificing love that marriage requires of me and my fiance, I am convinced that is the life I am called to, but I am also terrified. When I see threats to our relationship, whether internal or external, I realize that I could have done more on my part to pray for him and us, not just put out a fire as it happens or become overtaken with anxiety. I know that prayer isn't a magic fix for everything, but I do believe it works. It is powerful. It involves G-d, not just me. And at the very least, I can die a little bit to myself as I pray for these intentions.
So, I may have been Catholic now for eight years, but I'm just now figuring out that maybe I need to pray in a more Catholic way. I've got a prayer book, and I may buy a Liturgy of the Hours book (we will see how well this goes first before I take that leap). But each day, I'm going to say prayers - written prayers by others, or reading the Bible in the form of Psalms or Proverbs as prayer. I'm going to say prayers in the morning and at night. I'm going to mention my needs, intentions, and requests by name, and I'm going to fast each week for our marriage. Fridays, perhaps?
I am excited about this because I know it's the right thing to do. I'm also a little worried that I'm behind. Why didn't I think of this already? Why haven't I been doing this since before we even dated, or since we got engaged? I'm too selfish to do this on my own. It's taken years for G-d to make me aware of this area of neglect. I want to be a supportive wife, and one way I can do this is try pray, pray, pray for my husband and marriage. (And other needs.)
It's been a journey with G-d. While I've been Catholic now for about eight years, it wasn't until I began going to the sacrament of reconciliation consistently and also until I stopped committing mortal sin consistently that I have finally heard G-d's voice in my life and grown deeper and deeper. I still have a long way to go, but staying close to G-d in the sacraments has finally gotten through to me. Confession is powerful. It has brought more grace to me than anything. Once I got honest and agreed with G-d about what is wrong and what is right, doing the right thing became so much easier because I had the grace to do it and I had confessed my sins. More on that another time.
Pray on!
Friday, May 16, 2014
The Benefits of Fundamentalism – Part I
Just writing the title of this
post is enough to make me twitch a little bit.
Benefits, you say? Benefits of
THAT? That which I have been through and
lived to tell the tale? Yes. Benefits.
You see, it wasn’t just
fundamentalism I grew up with, it was Calvinism, fundamentalism, abuse, being a
pastor’s kid, and, as my therapist has helped me recently see, mental
illness. If all of that sounds
overwhelming and toxic, believe me, it was.
It has taken decades to get to the point of untangling the web of
exactly what we were dealing
with. However, there are some things
that happen to me, and I think, if it weren’t for my background, I couldn’t have
done that. Yes, there are some benefits
to fundamentalism. Here they are, in no
particular order, and with caveats thrown in for good measure:
1) The
ability to put with discomfort, pain, awkwardness, etc. for FAR too long. (Caveat – this is not always a benefit. This ability has also allowed me to put up
with abusive relationships or inappropriate situations because that was “normal” to my messed-up
mind.) However, all things being equal,
I am able to live in uncomfortable circumstances and just DEAL. Just deal with it, live with it, function as
if nothing is wrong. This is not some
valiant self-sacrificing/taking up your cross type of martyrdom, this is just a
leftover coping mechanism to the sh*tstorm that constantly swirled as a
child. Ignoring, carrying on, and
enduring whatever pain may come was basically the only choice I had. Now days, I can take a shot like a champ, I
can endure pain without medication far longer than I actually should, I can power through a situation and do without certain luxuries, and I can ignore huge giant red flags and warning signs and carry
on as if it were the best of times. Again,
this is not necessarily healthy, but every now and then, you *do* have to pick
yourself up by the bootstraps and just get through something. Fundamentalism helped me do that, a little
too well.
2) The
ability to talk to a huge variety of people.
Our church was a magnet for freaks and geeks, no offense to those in
attendance (myself included). We took pride in not being “mainstream”
because, of course, none of those “mainstream” churches had the real
truth. They were just Baptists,
Methodists, etc. going through the motions of their man-made traditions each
Sunday. They probably weren’t “real
Christians,” didn’t know or read the Bible.
They probably just went there because their parents or grandparents went
there, or because it was the closest church to their house. Not out of conviction, like us. And don’t even get me started on those
Catholics. Anyway, so when your church
is the “frozen chosen,” “all white and uptight” community of “true believers”
(lots of “ “, sorry), and you believe that you are the ONLY way, you tend to
attract those on the fringes of society or rejected by the same mainstream that you reject – single parents, recovering addicts,
the extremely poor, socially awkward, conspiracy theorist types – who are
looking for a place to belong, who are looking for something to latch onto. There is nothing wrong with ANY of those
labels I just listed. In fact, I hate to even define
them. Christ draws (and His Church should
draw) all these people to himself. But,
when the Savior and the Church you’re seeking for healing just gets you stuck
in a different way that the wounds that got you there, that’s not true freedom.
In my opinion, that’s what our fundamentalism did for these people – a whole
lot of nothing. Anyway, all that to say,
Sundays (or any time we were in church) were a time in which we were forced to
speak to these awkward people with very different experiences than our
own. There were very few kids our
age. (The ones that were there
eventually left due to wanting a youth group or to minute doctrinal squabbles
between the church and their parents). There were very few people that were highly educated. We had to speak with adults in complete sentences, we learned not to bat
an eye at people’s weird quirks or whatever may be brought up in conversation. We learned that these same interesting individuals may even be sharing the
feast with us at the next major holiday, so it’s best to pretend that
everything is great and normal. Now, by
nature, I’m an extreme introvert. But,
growing up, I was forced to make conversation with all types of people, mostly adults. As much as I *hated* it at the time, I’m able
now to try to relate to almost anyone I meet.
I’m not saying I’m great at it.
Small talk is still against my nature, but I have learned over the years
that others are sometimes just as uncomfortable, and it’s usually best to try
to make them feel welcome without forced conversation or prying, but with a few
statements that reach out to them. I also get annoyed at other introverts who can't get over themselves or come out of the damn shell for just one moment and make conversation. So,
overall, fundamentalism for the win. I
learned to relate to freaks and geeks.
3) The
show must go on. 10,000 caveats again. When you’re dealing with parents for whom
outward appearances are everything,
this gets really out of whack really fast.
Now, I went into a career in the performing arts for a while, and this
is the cardinal rule of performing. The
show must go on. So, anything from a
little rain on your commute to the electricity going out in the middle of a show,
or any number of disasters on stage or in real life, always remember, the show must go on - preferably with a smile as if nothing phased you. This is closely related to #1. Deal with it, no complaining, and act like
nothing’s wrong. Now, again, this is not
always healthy. It can lead to making
you callous or cold to the sufferings of others. It can put you in dangerous situations
because you think you *have* to get to work, regardless of the risks or that
you *have* to finish X, Y, Z tasks regardless of the toll they might take on
your health. It can make you not take concerns, pains, or hardships seriously and not listen to yourself or your instincts. But, every now and then,
that ability to carry on comes in handy, just take it with a giant boulder of
salt.
So, I've come up with three potential benefits of fundamentalism. I'm sure there are more, and I'm sure these things are just as much a warning about fundamentalism as they are a benefit of fundamentalism. In my effort to see my childhood with honesty - I am listing the good along with the bad. Lord knows I've analyzed and rehearsed the bad in my mind for YEARS. I also need to see that there were some benefits.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Weary
"Happy" "Good" Friday...
Rather than launch into an explanation of why it is called "good" Friday, let me just express my weariness this year. I have limped along to this day. I dread Lent, each year. And each year, I struggle with giving something up without beating myself up. This year, I could not decide what to do, so I went with a "gentle Lent," and decided to take stuff on. I decided to go to confession several times, to participate in stations of the cross, and to go to daily mass (not daily, but to aim for once a week), to give up meat on Fridays, to try to love. I thought I could overcome my negative feelings toward Lent and to understand a balanced self-love of discipline. It didn't take too well. Lent still feels foreign to me, raised as a fundamental Protestant with none of that "ritual" stuff.
So, 40 days later, I was talking to my fiance last week, and I couldn't even remember what I had "given up" for Lent. I was like, "Did I ever decide?" Somewhere in the middle there, I had gotten sick twice. First with strep throat, then with the stomach flu. Between regular life, travel for work one week, getting sick, etc. it slipped my mind that I had made this "gentle Lent" resolution of taking stuff ON. Then, I remembered, "oh yeah, I was also going to give up all negativity in speech, both toward myself and others." Fail on both counts of giving stuff up and taking stuff on. Whoops.
So, here I am, on this "good" Friday. I am worn out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. Once again, I'm not a very good Catholic. I didn't really do Lent that well this year, it wasn't a drastic difference from years before, and I didn't overcome my general negativity toward Lent. I made it to Stations of the Cross three times, I think. I enjoyed it, and maybe will do it again next year. (As a convert for 8 years, this is somehow the first time I've ever done the Stations of the Cross.) As for confession, I made it once this Lent. I didn't go any more than that, and I basically went to fulfill my earlier birthday resolution of trying to go once a month this year. (I'm probably actually behind now on going to confession, as I think I went to confession in March and have yet to go in April). But, my soul feels clean and excited for Easter. As for daily mass, I went once. And, no, I didn't make it to 6 AM mass before work. I made it to 6 PM mass once in 40 days, and just BARELY because of traffic. Also, I did manage to skip meat on Fridays a few times, but I also managed to eat it a few times. (It's also a foreign practice to me that has yet to take root.) So, all that to say Baby Steps. Really small Baby Steps.
I am weary of myself. I am weary of the selfishness, the lack of discipline, the nagging sense of not following through or doing enough. I'm weary of my own sin, my own restlessness, my indifference. I am also weary of other Christians this year. More so than normal. It has been a particularly ugly Lent. With a big scandal in the Protestant/Evangelical world about World Vision allowing married gay employees, then immediately disallowing married gay employees, 10,000 children lost Christian sponsors worldwide in this fight. Christians tore into one another on both sides of the issue, pointing fingers, calling names, mutually ex-communicating one another over this. While part of me is glad not to be in this camp anymore ("not my problem/this is why I'm Catholic"), I realize that it is my problem too, even if I don't want it to be, even if I don't identify with these groups as a Protestant Evangelical. All Christians are in this together and to the world, we are epically failing. We are not one. We do not love one another. I remember in 2003 when the scandals broke about priests abusing children (in Boston, I think, first), our Protestant chaplain talked about this with remorse. He didn't gloat at the sins of "those Catholics," he owned it. He explained that we are all in this together - for better or for worse - we have to deal with these sins too. Those words made an impact on me. I was Protestant, but a Catholic sympathizer at the time. I appreciate his standpoint, and I remember it in moments like these.
As a Protestant, I liked the diversity found in many denominations. I saw it as brothers and sisters with different personalities, each bringing a different slice to the pie, and aren't we just one big, happy, diverse family. While I do agree that we have much to learn from each other, now that I'm Catholic, the denominations and divisions break my heart. Jesus left behind A Church. And, it is a Universal Church (that's what the world Catholic means). There is room for all of us, and yet, there is also protection from all this confusion over doctrine and practice. He left behind the Holy Spirit to guide us, not to confuse us. It requires submission. Not brainwashing, not blind allegiance. Submission. And, yes, that part is hard. I believe that if all Catholics truly knew what the Church taught, they would never leave. And, if all Protestants truly knew what the Catholic Church taught, they would come running to their home. We have it all - history, tradition, reason, a deep intellectual tradition - and most importantly - the sacraments. Jesus. Present. And, yes Jesus is present everywhere, at all times, and to some extent in all religions and denominations, but this division was not and is not his will. It saddens me.
Today on Twitter, some Protestant with a doctorate called out Pope Francis as being number one on his list of false teachers. I just can't anymore. I'm can't engage in these fights. I can hardly even follow or read anymore the Protestant bloggers and authors I frequently read. I can hardly engage in a discussion or rebuttal of someone with such vast ignorance. I am frustrated as I watch Protestants re-invent the wheel, as I watch them struggle with questions that HAVE ANSWERS and HAVE BEEN ANSWERED. I struggle as I watch more in-fighting and confusion, and as I see that using the Bible to win your battle basically doesn't work. There's a reason Sola Scriptura is not in the Bible. It is not "biblical," and it wasn't thought up until 1500 years after Jesus. It saddens me.
I remember that even within my own family, I am the only Catholic. While some family members are more sympathetic than others, my parents chastised me last Easter for not spending it with "real" Christians. I am weary. I cannot open my mind or heart up to people like that. Yes, even my own parents. I struggle with knowing even how to even greet them this Sunday. For one, "Happy Easter" is forbidden because they don't use that word (too "pagan"). For two, I don't want another lecture about how awful my religion is. I'm weary. It saddens me.
All of this pales in comparison to the suffering of our Savior that we remember this day. If I ever learn how to be a real Catholic, or a good one, I will learn how to offer up this suffering (however small it is) in union with Christ's. I pray that we may all be one. I don't know how we will be. Ever. I don't know how to have any part in the discussion sometimes. I will just keep on keeping on in my own practice. The truth marches on, and I will march with it, even if there are those who try to stop me, who try to rain on the parade, who try to ridicule the parade itself. God help us all.
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.
For by your holy cross, You have redeemed the world.
Rather than launch into an explanation of why it is called "good" Friday, let me just express my weariness this year. I have limped along to this day. I dread Lent, each year. And each year, I struggle with giving something up without beating myself up. This year, I could not decide what to do, so I went with a "gentle Lent," and decided to take stuff on. I decided to go to confession several times, to participate in stations of the cross, and to go to daily mass (not daily, but to aim for once a week), to give up meat on Fridays, to try to love. I thought I could overcome my negative feelings toward Lent and to understand a balanced self-love of discipline. It didn't take too well. Lent still feels foreign to me, raised as a fundamental Protestant with none of that "ritual" stuff.
So, 40 days later, I was talking to my fiance last week, and I couldn't even remember what I had "given up" for Lent. I was like, "Did I ever decide?" Somewhere in the middle there, I had gotten sick twice. First with strep throat, then with the stomach flu. Between regular life, travel for work one week, getting sick, etc. it slipped my mind that I had made this "gentle Lent" resolution of taking stuff ON. Then, I remembered, "oh yeah, I was also going to give up all negativity in speech, both toward myself and others." Fail on both counts of giving stuff up and taking stuff on. Whoops.
So, here I am, on this "good" Friday. I am worn out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. Once again, I'm not a very good Catholic. I didn't really do Lent that well this year, it wasn't a drastic difference from years before, and I didn't overcome my general negativity toward Lent. I made it to Stations of the Cross three times, I think. I enjoyed it, and maybe will do it again next year. (As a convert for 8 years, this is somehow the first time I've ever done the Stations of the Cross.) As for confession, I made it once this Lent. I didn't go any more than that, and I basically went to fulfill my earlier birthday resolution of trying to go once a month this year. (I'm probably actually behind now on going to confession, as I think I went to confession in March and have yet to go in April). But, my soul feels clean and excited for Easter. As for daily mass, I went once. And, no, I didn't make it to 6 AM mass before work. I made it to 6 PM mass once in 40 days, and just BARELY because of traffic. Also, I did manage to skip meat on Fridays a few times, but I also managed to eat it a few times. (It's also a foreign practice to me that has yet to take root.) So, all that to say Baby Steps. Really small Baby Steps.
I am weary of myself. I am weary of the selfishness, the lack of discipline, the nagging sense of not following through or doing enough. I'm weary of my own sin, my own restlessness, my indifference. I am also weary of other Christians this year. More so than normal. It has been a particularly ugly Lent. With a big scandal in the Protestant/Evangelical world about World Vision allowing married gay employees, then immediately disallowing married gay employees, 10,000 children lost Christian sponsors worldwide in this fight. Christians tore into one another on both sides of the issue, pointing fingers, calling names, mutually ex-communicating one another over this. While part of me is glad not to be in this camp anymore ("not my problem/this is why I'm Catholic"), I realize that it is my problem too, even if I don't want it to be, even if I don't identify with these groups as a Protestant Evangelical. All Christians are in this together and to the world, we are epically failing. We are not one. We do not love one another. I remember in 2003 when the scandals broke about priests abusing children (in Boston, I think, first), our Protestant chaplain talked about this with remorse. He didn't gloat at the sins of "those Catholics," he owned it. He explained that we are all in this together - for better or for worse - we have to deal with these sins too. Those words made an impact on me. I was Protestant, but a Catholic sympathizer at the time. I appreciate his standpoint, and I remember it in moments like these.
As a Protestant, I liked the diversity found in many denominations. I saw it as brothers and sisters with different personalities, each bringing a different slice to the pie, and aren't we just one big, happy, diverse family. While I do agree that we have much to learn from each other, now that I'm Catholic, the denominations and divisions break my heart. Jesus left behind A Church. And, it is a Universal Church (that's what the world Catholic means). There is room for all of us, and yet, there is also protection from all this confusion over doctrine and practice. He left behind the Holy Spirit to guide us, not to confuse us. It requires submission. Not brainwashing, not blind allegiance. Submission. And, yes, that part is hard. I believe that if all Catholics truly knew what the Church taught, they would never leave. And, if all Protestants truly knew what the Catholic Church taught, they would come running to their home. We have it all - history, tradition, reason, a deep intellectual tradition - and most importantly - the sacraments. Jesus. Present. And, yes Jesus is present everywhere, at all times, and to some extent in all religions and denominations, but this division was not and is not his will. It saddens me.
Today on Twitter, some Protestant with a doctorate called out Pope Francis as being number one on his list of false teachers. I just can't anymore. I'm can't engage in these fights. I can hardly even follow or read anymore the Protestant bloggers and authors I frequently read. I can hardly engage in a discussion or rebuttal of someone with such vast ignorance. I am frustrated as I watch Protestants re-invent the wheel, as I watch them struggle with questions that HAVE ANSWERS and HAVE BEEN ANSWERED. I struggle as I watch more in-fighting and confusion, and as I see that using the Bible to win your battle basically doesn't work. There's a reason Sola Scriptura is not in the Bible. It is not "biblical," and it wasn't thought up until 1500 years after Jesus. It saddens me.
I remember that even within my own family, I am the only Catholic. While some family members are more sympathetic than others, my parents chastised me last Easter for not spending it with "real" Christians. I am weary. I cannot open my mind or heart up to people like that. Yes, even my own parents. I struggle with knowing even how to even greet them this Sunday. For one, "Happy Easter" is forbidden because they don't use that word (too "pagan"). For two, I don't want another lecture about how awful my religion is. I'm weary. It saddens me.
All of this pales in comparison to the suffering of our Savior that we remember this day. If I ever learn how to be a real Catholic, or a good one, I will learn how to offer up this suffering (however small it is) in union with Christ's. I pray that we may all be one. I don't know how we will be. Ever. I don't know how to have any part in the discussion sometimes. I will just keep on keeping on in my own practice. The truth marches on, and I will march with it, even if there are those who try to stop me, who try to rain on the parade, who try to ridicule the parade itself. God help us all.
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.
For by your holy cross, You have redeemed the world.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Coming to Terms
There's a logic that many people cite when looking back on their childhood - "I was spanked, and I turned out okay." To that, I say, "Congratulations. You support assault and battery of an innocent, helpless child. That child is you." I was spanked, and I did not turn out okay. And, if I had to guess, you really didn't either.
I'm tired of the justification. I'm tired of hearing that it's good to "break the spirits" of children so they will learn obedience. I'm tired of hearing that children need to learn to "submit" and bow down to authority.
I have come to believe that there is no such thing as tough love. That's not love. Love shouldn't hurt.
It took me until I was in my early 20s to realize that what my parents did to me was wrong. And even then, I still thought the spanking part was okay, but that the other types of hitting were not.
It took me years into my first serious romantic relationship in college to stop flinching when my boyfriend would touch my face - to realize that it could be a gesture of love, not someone trying to slap or hit me.
It took me watching the beauty and innocence of the children in my life to realize that they are not bad. They are not broken or fundamentally flawed. They don't need breaking. They don't need tough love. They need love. Gentle, patient, consistent, real love. Humans are not animals that need their spirits broken into ultimate submission. They are infuriating, sure. They make mistakes, yes. But, the only thing to heal our wounds is love, not more wounding.
Lord, deliver us and forgive us for the profound sins against one another, especially against those who are most helpless and innocent among us. Protect your children. Heal all of our wounds so that we may stop wounding one another and live in the peace of Your kingdom.
I'm tired of the justification. I'm tired of hearing that it's good to "break the spirits" of children so they will learn obedience. I'm tired of hearing that children need to learn to "submit" and bow down to authority.
I have come to believe that there is no such thing as tough love. That's not love. Love shouldn't hurt.
It took me until I was in my early 20s to realize that what my parents did to me was wrong. And even then, I still thought the spanking part was okay, but that the other types of hitting were not.
It took me years into my first serious romantic relationship in college to stop flinching when my boyfriend would touch my face - to realize that it could be a gesture of love, not someone trying to slap or hit me.
It took me watching the beauty and innocence of the children in my life to realize that they are not bad. They are not broken or fundamentally flawed. They don't need breaking. They don't need tough love. They need love. Gentle, patient, consistent, real love. Humans are not animals that need their spirits broken into ultimate submission. They are infuriating, sure. They make mistakes, yes. But, the only thing to heal our wounds is love, not more wounding.
Lord, deliver us and forgive us for the profound sins against one another, especially against those who are most helpless and innocent among us. Protect your children. Heal all of our wounds so that we may stop wounding one another and live in the peace of Your kingdom.
Monday, March 10, 2014
A Gentle Lent
Okay, so I know Lent started last week, but I'm just now getting around to writing about my resolutions.
I gotta be honest here and just say it...I hate Lent.
Sorry.
I didn't grow up with Lent. I grew up Protestant/Calvinist, and there was tons of self-loathing year-round, but no Lenten resolutions. We didn't fast, we didn't tithe, we didn't give alms. That was all too "legalistic" and Lent was too close to that man-made Catholicism.
Fast forward a few decades, and here I am, a Catholic, trying to sort out Lent. I've been Catholic for a few years now, and honestly, I feel like I'm just barely grasping what Lent is, what self-sacrifice is and what it is NOT, and what it means to offer things up. I can't just white-wash my Protestant tendencies and go on a 40-day self-loathing binge. That would actually be far too easy, and that is not what God or Lent is calling me to.
It is really really hard for me to do Lent. I want to fix all my problems in 40 days with fasting from everything, praying for everyone, building all new habits. And, life just doesn't work like that. I can't fast from eating meals due to health concerns (I can fast from delicacies, or certain foods, but not skip meals, doctor's orders.) So, I'm left to my own creative devices for Lent. In the past, I've given up television, Facebook, swearing, coffee creamer, salt, and other "creative" things.
This year, I'm just so weary. Weary of the self-hatred. Weary of hating Lent. Weary of not really knowing how to fast or offer things up or be authentically Catholic. I don't live like a monk, but I don't feel like there's much more I can do without. So, what kept coming to mind this year was taking something on, not giving stuff up. And, also, taking stuff on in a disciplined, yet kind, way. Establishing a habit. "Leaning in" to prayer or daily mass. No beating myself up. No wildly unrealistic expectations. No self-loathing. God is gentle. Lent should be a gentle reminder.
Here's what I've come up with:
This year, I'm going to try washing my dishes and making my bed every day. (makes a big difference in a studio apartment without a dishwasher)
This year, I'm going to try to attend mass once during the week, in addition to Sunday mass. (emphasis on *try* and emphasis on *once* per week, not every single day)
This year, I'm going to try to pray with more intention. I'm going to pray during my commute (got a prayer CD to use), I'm going to offer my intentions as I pray. The structure of formatted prayers, such as the rosary, is a huge help to my wandering mind as I pray.
This year, I'm going to try to go through my drawers and doors and closets and get rid of excess. Not go crazy, but go one drawer or area at a time and make sure I am being a good steward and not wasteful of what I have.
This year, I'm going to try to give up meat on Fridays for Lent. I already messed up last week on Friday, but I did manage to go without meat on Ash Wednesday. I have to be honest, it was hard, but definitely do-able.
This year, I'm going to try to go to confession once a month (already a resolution from my birthday). I've already been once this Lent. It is a gentle reminder that God is mercy. He desires to heal us from our sins, not beat us up. If I keep this in mind, I can do Lent.
This year, I'm going to try to participate in Lenten practices that are new to me. Last week, I went to Stations of the Cross for the first time.
Maybe I don't hate Lent after all. Maybe I just need to learn how to really practice it. Maybe I only hated my warped perception of Lent.
Thanks, EE, for the reminder and link up.
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I gotta be honest here and just say it...I hate Lent.
Sorry.
I didn't grow up with Lent. I grew up Protestant/Calvinist, and there was tons of self-loathing year-round, but no Lenten resolutions. We didn't fast, we didn't tithe, we didn't give alms. That was all too "legalistic" and Lent was too close to that man-made Catholicism.
Fast forward a few decades, and here I am, a Catholic, trying to sort out Lent. I've been Catholic for a few years now, and honestly, I feel like I'm just barely grasping what Lent is, what self-sacrifice is and what it is NOT, and what it means to offer things up. I can't just white-wash my Protestant tendencies and go on a 40-day self-loathing binge. That would actually be far too easy, and that is not what God or Lent is calling me to.
It is really really hard for me to do Lent. I want to fix all my problems in 40 days with fasting from everything, praying for everyone, building all new habits. And, life just doesn't work like that. I can't fast from eating meals due to health concerns (I can fast from delicacies, or certain foods, but not skip meals, doctor's orders.) So, I'm left to my own creative devices for Lent. In the past, I've given up television, Facebook, swearing, coffee creamer, salt, and other "creative" things.
This year, I'm just so weary. Weary of the self-hatred. Weary of hating Lent. Weary of not really knowing how to fast or offer things up or be authentically Catholic. I don't live like a monk, but I don't feel like there's much more I can do without. So, what kept coming to mind this year was taking something on, not giving stuff up. And, also, taking stuff on in a disciplined, yet kind, way. Establishing a habit. "Leaning in" to prayer or daily mass. No beating myself up. No wildly unrealistic expectations. No self-loathing. God is gentle. Lent should be a gentle reminder.
Here's what I've come up with:
This year, I'm going to try washing my dishes and making my bed every day. (makes a big difference in a studio apartment without a dishwasher)
This year, I'm going to try to attend mass once during the week, in addition to Sunday mass. (emphasis on *try* and emphasis on *once* per week, not every single day)
This year, I'm going to try to pray with more intention. I'm going to pray during my commute (got a prayer CD to use), I'm going to offer my intentions as I pray. The structure of formatted prayers, such as the rosary, is a huge help to my wandering mind as I pray.
This year, I'm going to try to go through my drawers and doors and closets and get rid of excess. Not go crazy, but go one drawer or area at a time and make sure I am being a good steward and not wasteful of what I have.
This year, I'm going to try to give up meat on Fridays for Lent. I already messed up last week on Friday, but I did manage to go without meat on Ash Wednesday. I have to be honest, it was hard, but definitely do-able.
This year, I'm going to try to go to confession once a month (already a resolution from my birthday). I've already been once this Lent. It is a gentle reminder that God is mercy. He desires to heal us from our sins, not beat us up. If I keep this in mind, I can do Lent.
This year, I'm going to try to participate in Lenten practices that are new to me. Last week, I went to Stations of the Cross for the first time.
Maybe I don't hate Lent after all. Maybe I just need to learn how to really practice it. Maybe I only hated my warped perception of Lent.
Thanks, EE, for the reminder and link up.
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Thursday, March 6, 2014
Memories
It's funny - the things we hold on to. The scraps of paper that contain
someone's handwriting, the phone numbers of those whose voices we will
never hear again, the pictures of moments we have shared. The stuff of
life. My priest always talks about how Catholics have "holy stuff."
We bless water, statues, animals, houses. We use oil, bread, wine,
water, hands, incense, music, and more to convey our faith. It's truly
an incarnational religion. It envelopes our senses.
I used to think my stuff bogged me down. Sometimes I still do. But, I also long for more stuff. More tangible memories. More evidence of the good times. More touches of people I love and miss. I want a shrine. I want something to see, smell, look at. Something to hold on to that reminds me that you were real. You are real. You loved me. That love was real.
I'm sick of burning bridges and dumping stuff. I want to hold on. To remember these moments. To smell the smells and hear the bells of life. I miss the sound of your voice. The smell of your perfume. I miss your spirit and your care. I miss your essence. Your being. I miss you.
I'm starting to know too many people on the other side of the veil. I hope for heaven in a different way than I used to. I'm no longer "assured" of salvation. I do hope for it. I long for communion with all, all at the same time. I long for the joy and the peace of those empty spots and holes in my heart to be bound up. Forever. Unity in community. Union. Communion.
Til we meet, til we meet, til we meet at Jesus' feet. Til we meet, til we meet, God be with you til we meet again.
I used to think my stuff bogged me down. Sometimes I still do. But, I also long for more stuff. More tangible memories. More evidence of the good times. More touches of people I love and miss. I want a shrine. I want something to see, smell, look at. Something to hold on to that reminds me that you were real. You are real. You loved me. That love was real.
I'm sick of burning bridges and dumping stuff. I want to hold on. To remember these moments. To smell the smells and hear the bells of life. I miss the sound of your voice. The smell of your perfume. I miss your spirit and your care. I miss your essence. Your being. I miss you.
I'm starting to know too many people on the other side of the veil. I hope for heaven in a different way than I used to. I'm no longer "assured" of salvation. I do hope for it. I long for communion with all, all at the same time. I long for the joy and the peace of those empty spots and holes in my heart to be bound up. Forever. Unity in community. Union. Communion.
Til we meet, til we meet, til we meet at Jesus' feet. Til we meet, til we meet, God be with you til we meet again.
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