Clutching

I've been a bit desperate lately for what (in earlier days) I would've called "the restoration of the joy of my salvation" - that is to say, I've been feeling stale and uninspired and deadened in my faith life. I even stopped going to Mass right around the time Lent started, which is very obviously a Big Deal for me. I can't put my finger on why it's happened, especially because I've been blessed so hugely and am aware every day of Who has given me these blessings and such a wonderful life. So I've been praying for a revival, and I think it may be beginning.

Part of this has to do with a renewed interest in Catholic blogs, which pulled me through one of the darkest periods of my life a few years ago. I found this blog just now, linked from one of the best blogs out there, and almost cried at my desk. An excerpt from this entry:

The liturgy as we have it now has nothing to do with the Second Vatican council. In fact, the liturgy that most people assume is the “Mass of Vatican Two” is in direct defiance of that great and inspired Council. Inspired by a rebellious clergy, the better part of a billion people have ended up thumbing their noses at the work of the Council. That is my sorrow. The promise of my youth has been betrayed. Much of the Council has never been implemented. Instead, we Latin rite Catholics now have an essentially Protestant framework for the Eucharist.

I don't know what the cause for the darkness was, but I feel it starting to lift, and all I want to do right now is go throw myself at the foot of the Cross (a familiar theme for those of you who read my Holy Cookie blog when it was still active) and cry out my frustrations and sins.

From B16's Easter Vigil Homily

It is not the case that in the expanding universe, at a late stage, in some tiny corner of the cosmos, there evolved randomly some species of living being capable of reasoning and of trying to find rationality within creation, or to bring rationality into it. If man were merely a random product of evolution in some place on the margins of the universe, then his life would make no sense or might even be a chance of nature. But no, Reason is there at the beginning: creative, divine Reason... [C]reation itself remains good, life remains good, because at the beginning is good Reason, God’s creative love. Hence the world can be saved. Hence we can and must place ourselves on the side of reason, freedom and love – on the side of God who loves us so much that he suffered for us, that from his death there might emerge a new, definitive and healed life.

Bowing Out

My job is a stressful one. I'm at the bottom of the totem pole, working for people who don't grasp how to do their jobs - much of my day is spent hunting them down and explaining to them over and over and over again that if I ask for a client's mailing address, I don't need an email address or the ad agency's address - I need the client's mailing address. Most of the people I work with are in the same boat, fed up with the unwillingness of our superiors to adapt and learn the new skills of a changing industry. This article is clearly satire (hello - The Onion!), but it rings very true to my experiences post-graduation.

Because much of my work life corollates rather closely to my personal life, my workday was punctuated this morning by a conversation with an old college friend, who is still finishing up his degree. He and I and many others struggled with the on-campus parish that was our home during our tenure there; priests, campus ministers, and pushy laypeople (primarily, as is the case with many Catholic churches, women) seemed determined to undermine the efforts of an increasingly-conservative student body to reform the lax practices and teachings of a liberal-town parish, and it has finally come to a head. Open hostility seems to be the modus operandi now, and letters are being sent to the priest (who is elderly, and affably but clearly opposed to doing anything, much less doing anything for the conservatives) and the bishop, in whom I have a lot of faith but also concern for his time and access to resources that might help resolve the matter.

It kills me that the Old Guard - those who came of age around the time of Vatican II and are steadfastly stuck in those times of misinterpretation and uncalled-for reforms - are unwilling to learn new mindsets, new skills, that would foster goodwill among all the different students that walk through the doors of that tiny parish. My superiors only make my job difficult; these "leaders" are beginning to tear down the foundations of many years of catechism and training and general social graces and tolerance. Maybe these "priestesses" should've given up SPEAKING for Lent.

Collision

So! Work is finally boring enough that I feel somewhat comfortable blogging here again. Now to recap the last 2 months of my life. Blehhhh.

On the top of the list is the fact that I never posted about The One's visit, other than some lame drabble about how I was hopeful about things in general. Now, a lady doesn't kiss and tell, and neither do I (ha), but suffice to say that it was 18 hours of joy that I haven't felt in a long time. I was on Cloud 9, or 10, or some exclusive cloud that you hipsters haven't even heard of, and still am every time he calls or texts. The Ring is back on my left hand, I'm not even interested in anyone else... I know I'm putting all my eggs in one basket and risking a LOT of heartbreak, but I've never felt this way about ANYONE and I refuse to be scared.
The voicemail I got a few weeks later is still haunting me a bit - we talked a few days after I posted that entry and he said all the things I was going to say to him about why they're ultimately incompatible and he hasn't been happy in a long time - but she visited him this weekend as her last-ditch attempt to get him back... I'm waiting on his call to reassure me that it's definitely over. So, maybe a little vomit-y.

Lent has begun, and I gave up music on my commute (read: no earbuds) in an attempt to pray more, and more regularly. It's sort of working, but 3-ish weeks in I'm starting to run out of things to say to the Big Guy. So starting today I'm going to ATTEMPT to stop cursing. Basically I'm taking my laundry list of things I regularly go to Confession for (cursing, never praying, etc) and trying not to do them ... seems reasonable, right? We'll see.

After a long, busy winter (which apparently is not over yet, stupid March doesn't realize that it's supposed to be spring now) I am finally taking some time to myself to stay at home and cook my own meals and watch TV shows on the night they air. The One told me before I moved here that "your apartment is just a place to hang your hat," but sometimes I need to spend a few consecutive evenings with my hats. Which means possibly, maybe? more blogging to come in the near future! I really will try. I don't give myself NEARLY enough time for introspection and at least having a few people bugging me about updates motivates me a little bit. Keep it up, nags! ;)

Ok, let's see if I can sneak out of work early...

Throwback to the Holy Cookie days

*snerk*  If comic-readers can figure it out, so can "Joe and Mary Catholic." USCCB assholes.

Thou shalt (not)

Just a "quick" thought for this morning. I was reading the Times online, as per my usual routine, and stumbled across part 3 (or so) of an ongoing discussion about the burqa. The paragraph below refers to Roger Williams, who was one of the founders of Rhode Island and had the most fascinating approach to the Church vs. State argument that's been raging since the USA was born:

Williams is an inspiring figure, indeed.  Feeling firsthand the constraint of religious conformism in England and in Massachusetts Bay, he developed a uniquely broad position on religious toleration, one encompassing not only Protestants of all stripes, but Roman Catholics, Jews and Muslims.  The state, in his view, can legitimately enforce only the second tablet of the Decalogue — those final five commandments covering murder, theft, and the like.  All matters of worship covered by the first tablet must be left to the individual conscience.

Crazy idea, right? Here's a refresher on the Ten C's, in case any of you are rusty (I had to look it up to really grasp the full concept too, don't freak. And click to enlarge.)

(Handy table stolen from Wikipedia.)

As a self-proclaimed - if not thusly registered - libertarian, this makes total sense to me. There is an unfortunate, unwritten "God clause" in our legal system, where the notion of a Puritanical deity still has an ironclad grip on the rights of everyone (but especially minorities). The deity itself has no grip - no God I'd ever want to worship would be half as cruel as the religious bigots out there make him out to be - so why have we subscribed to the idea that the State has the right to decide to whom we owe worship and accountability? That's a personal matter, not a State matter. And Williams had his head on straight. Not bad for a heretic ;)

The chicken or the egg?

Anecdote instead of the usual cold open:
    A teenage girl was sitting at home, telling her mother how hard her life was. Her mother listened for a while, then without speaking, brought the girl into the kitchen, where she filled 3 pots full of water and set them on the stove. When the water began to boil, she put carrots in one pot, eggs in another, and coffee beans in the third. After a while, she turned off the stove, extracted the carrots and eggs onto a plate, and poured the third pot into a large mug.
    "What do you see?" asked the mother.
    The daughter looked strangely at her mother and said, "I see carrots, eggs, and coffee."
    "I want you to REALLY look at it," replied her mother. "What has happened here?"
    "The carrots are cooked," said the daughter, "the eggs are boiled, and there's coffee in this cup."
    Her mother told her, "Everyone responds to life's adversities differently. Some are like carrots - they're tough and strong, but when they're dropped in the boiling water, they become soft. Some are like the eggs, soft and fluid of soul, but adversity makes them tough. And then some are like the coffee beans. Instead of changing their substance, the beans release their essence into the water and make the water delicious."

This story was told by the visiting archbishop at Mass this past week. He was the homilist on the occasion of the parish's First Communion and Confirmation rites on Corpus Christi. The nature of the rites, particularly Confimation, is such that they are transformative - we are given special graces and gifts that prepare us for our lives.

It hit me in the middle of this homily that my conversion to Catholicism happened when it did because there was a Plan - the Big Guy knew what I'd be going through in a few short years, and I needed to find my footing before I'd be ready to handle it all. I didn't become Catholic to handle my adversities, I was called to the Church because of what I didn't know I would face. That kind of providence is startling and incredible.

Wow: thoughts on Corpus Christi

Every week, the pastor at my church, Fr George W Rutler, S.T.D., posts in the bulletin and online a little mini-homily. It is, in my experience so far, a clever combination of the homily from the previous week and a preview/summary of the current week's homily. They're lovely and insightful, and this week's was especially good. I'm posting it here because it's that awesome. All bolding is my doing.

     The liturgical cycle has moved from Pentecost Sunday, celebrating the gifts of the Holy Spirit, to the Holy Trinity, celebrated last Sunday, the mystery of which comes to us in the Body and Blood of Christ, celebrated on this feast of Corpus Christi.

     It is intimidatingly easy to end up saying the wrong things about these mysteries by trying to say the right thing. Heretics usually start out with a sincere desire to make obscure things clearer. A case in point is trying to explain the real presence of Christ in the sacred species of the altar by concentrating on Him alone. Some speak rather cloyingly of "going to say hello to Jesus," as if a Holy Hour were a courtesy call on a retired clergyman; and there are, sad to say, some priests who have a compulsive twitch to change the words of the Mass when they raise the Host, so that instead of "Behold the Lamb of God," they will say, "This is Jesus." The problem with these expressions is not that they are wrong, for they are right, but that they are not right enough.

     The Holy Eucharist brings the undivided God to us, and Christ makes visible the divine indivisibility. What the Three Persons are in themselves is what they are to each other, and what they do is not done in the isolation of one from the others. When the Host is lifted at the altar, the Holy Spirit recalls to the hearts of the faithful the words of Jesus: “He who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).

     Today a bishop, as successor of the apostles, will give a number of our children their First Communion, and will Confirm some with the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit. It is hoped that when they are older, the Holy Spirit will have made them more able to explain the Eucharist, but they will never be more open to God's grace than in this time of innocence. The three little children in Fatima encountered the Eucharist more profoundly than any doctor of divinity. In 1916, the year before Our Lady appeared to them, they saw the "Angel of Portugal" suspended in the air and prostrate before a Host from which drops of blood poured into a chalice.  The angel then gave the children communion: "Take and drink the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ." On May 13, 1917, the mother of God appeared to the children with light pouring onto them from her hands. By a common inspiration, the untutored children knelt and repeated: "Oh, most Holy Trinity, I adore You! My God, my God, I love You in the most Blessed Sacrament!" The daughter of the Father and mother of the Son and spouse of the Holy Spirit was joining them in Eucharistic praise of the most Holy Trinity.

She's on fire

I went into the Catholic blogs today for the first time in nearly a year. After being so deeply entrenched in that world, it still feels so familiar, but a couple thoughts just hit me.

The Ex and I broke up in part because of the fruits of the period of time in which I became so zealous and dogmatic, and I am often blamed (by certain members of our mutual-friends group who are not religious or are anti-religious) for that. I'm certainly fine with that, because no one lived inside our heads during that final rough patch and I don't expect anyone to understand what I was going through. But that zealotry certainly CAN lead, generally, to a personality that many people are turned off by.

But a few months after the breakup, when I was my angriest, saddest, and most deeply entrenched in the blogosphere and atmosphere of militant traditionalism (the atmosphere that the Ex and The Roommate said was so detestable), I met two of the people who are most important to me. My GBF and the rest of the Lunch Club encountered me right in the middle of that difficult period of my life, and right as I was starting to come out of it, and I feel like they knew me and I knew them and we fell in love despite my narrow vision and hurt and all the other things I was dealing with.

I feel like my perspective on life changes all the time. It's almost like I've got a camera crew circling me and I can actually see through the lens at the moments when their focus switches from a direct shot to a wide-angle shot. As a result, I change my mind on things a lot and need to know as much information about as many things as possible. (Ironically, I despised school.) I suppose that's one of my greatest quests, and why I'm making such a big move in (gasp) 44 days. It's a big world out there, let me at it!

Why I Don't Trust Nuns

I spent the better part of Saturday at a choir retreat with my church. I figured going in that it would be a relaxing sort of thing spent talking about music and getting to know everyone a little better. (My first mistake: assuming something at my church would happen the way I wanted it to.) I'm usually the type that can find the silver lining in everything, but when I walked in and the first thing I realized was that the retreat facilitator was a 60-something nun, my brain just sort of stalled out. She was, as many nuns her age are, a crazy hippie liberal, so most of the retreat was New-Agey bullshit. WHOOPEE.

I've always been a little skeptical of nuns, which I thought was due to the predictable New Age stuff. But upon reflecting on it (said reflecting happened during the retreat when we were supposed to be meditating on the femininity and masculinity of God... or maybe it was while we were "blessing" the "holy water" with our retreat experiences... retch...), I discovered that that wasn't all of it. Many women-religious set themselves up as authorities on matters religious, but they've never been to seminary. I have little patience for people who pretend they know what they're talking about, and that patience whittles down to absolute zero when people pretend they know what they're talking about in the religious sphere. If I wanted to spend my time talking about my PERSONAL FEELINGS about a particular passage of Scripture, you had better believe I would, but I would do it with people who I felt had an understanding on par with or better than mine.

I'm not counting ALL nuns in this negative context, of course; I just look at nuns more skeptically and critically than I do priests (which is saying something). The priest at my favorite parish told me once that he was surprised and disappointed when he found out I had a boyfriend, because he thought I should be a nun. I'm pretty sure I don't have the temperament to be a nun (can you just imagine??), but I'd like to think I'd be the kind of nun that most other nuns would directly avoid because I was so conservative that they wouldn't know what to do with me. Sad when that's my vocational ambition, huh? ;)