There's this thing out there that drives me crazy. I call it religious hobbyism. It's where religion is your hobby, but you don't actually practice it like a religion.
In this category would be attending every "cool" liturgy you can find, Eastern Rite, Extraordinary Form, what-have-you, but if you can't find a "cool" Mass to go to, just skipping.
It's walking out of every Mass with a list of pros and cons: "I did like the homily, but did you notice they didn't say the correct prayers for the day?" "Yes, that's true, but did you get a look at that thurible?!"
It's being always at the ready to participate in a theological debate, but being an arrogant jerk the whole time. It's skipping your prayer time so that you can put the smackdown on someone who's wrong about a fine point of doctrine.
Also known as "totally missing the point."
But as I was reflecting on this tendency, I began to feel this niggling little discomfort inside. Because I'm not free of this. Like, not at all. I was lecturing someone on Facebook today as to how wonderful it is that Pope Francis is choosing to wash the feet of prison inmates on Holy Thursday, thus showing us the importance of performing the corporal works of mercy, when Marko came and hung on me, demanding something to eat. And I thought, "Feeding the hungry is also a corporal work of mercy, and here I am, too obsessed with being right to feed my own children." So I got up and gave him a cookie. I did finish my comment after, but I toned it down a lot because I was starting to really think. Why do I do this? Is it because I truly want these people to know Christ instead of picking at the Pope for wearing black shoes? Or is it because I personally like the Pope so much and feel so defensive of him that it's become more important to be right then to respect their own journey?
Because we all are bad Catholics. I know I am. I've said it often: I stink at being Catholic. I haven't prayed the Rosary of my own free will in years. Christ died for us while we were still sinners, and I can't even forgive my own husband unless he's the first one to apologize. I have been known to say to a sick child in the middle of the night, "Stop crying or we won't have any fun tomorrow!" Which corporal work of mercy is that?
I'm not sure I know the cure. In some ways discussing theology at all appears to be an occasion of sin for me. I get freaked out: "What! Non-Catholics all go to hell?! I didn't know that! I can't imagine a good God would do that!" I spend days in a state of angst and doubt. And then I look it up in the catechism and find out that oops, I was right the first time, it is quite possible for non-Catholics to go to heaven. The Good Thief was never baptized with water either. (Look it up, #846 and following. So awesome! And also happened to be what I already believed, which is nice.)
But on the other hand, these discussions do draw me deeper into understanding. And understanding doctrine is, in its essence, understanding God. Is God the sort of person who would damn someone to hell for all eternity for not knowing better? No, he is not. And when I find this out, I am drawn to love him more, to keep asking him that all important question, "Who are you, anyway?"
But it's always going to be a constant fight. Humility vs. pride, obsession with being right vs. focus on doing right, speaking or listening. It's hard. In a way we're all religious hobbyists, we're all material heretics, we all miss the point. The crucial thing is not to give up on the battle, but to keep fighting, to keep asking myself, "Is this what God would do? Is this what God wants? Am I missing the point again?"
Two good articles that have called me on this tendency lately: Unclean and There Ain't No Pure Church. I tell you, without Simcha Fisher and Mark Shea to tell it like it is, I don't know where I'd be.
I think this is the last "Catholic post" for a bit. My apologies to those of you who are waiting for pictures of cute babies.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
A time of trepidation
(This is a very Catholic post. My apologies if it makes zero sense to anyone else.)
The time between Benedict's resignation and Pope Francis's election was a time of much fear and trembling for me, as I suppose it was for every Catholic. Who will it be? Someone "good," a real spiritual father, a wise leader? Or someone who, while not teaching heresy, wounds the Church through neglect or scandal? We have been spoiled in the past century ... we are accustomed to very holy Popes, whereas at different times in history there have been some real rotters. But even in this century, I don't think anyone who's been paying attention could say every Pope was perfect or made the right decisions all of the time.
When the news articles and stories came pouring in about Pope Francis, about his simplicity, his warmth, his wise words, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He seems like a good one. We're in the clear.
But I can see now that maybe that was premature.
I'm not afraid that Francis isn't going to be a great pope. I'm pretty sure he is. But it's a little scary all the same. Are transitions from one papacy to another always this difficult? This is only my second (like most Catholics I know), and I didn't notice a huge upheaval when Benedict was elected. But then I was at Christendom and everyone there loooooved him.
Yet even then, there was a lot of speculation and a lot of assumptions which turned out to be false. Both Benedict's admirers and his enemies called him "God's Rottweiler," the Grand Inquisitor, and so forth. They expected him to be bringing the smackdown. Those who knew him well told us he was gentle, patient, scholarly, and so forth, but all anyone could see was that he was known to be very conservative. So the conservatives and traditionalists (aka everyone I knew) threw parties, and the liberals (so I heard) were wailing and gnashing their teeth.
But what happened? We got a kind, patient, gentle Holy Father, one with a professorial bent. He wrote three encyclicals, two on love and one on hope and zero on smackdowns. He worked on unifying the Eastern Churches (and made enormous progress) and the SSPX (which is still being stubborn) and the Anglicans (which I think has been mostly a success too). He allowed broader use of the Latin Mass, which of course had made that wing of the Church love him forever. But he just wasn't as harsh as was suspected. No excommunications. No anathemas. And I think, for the most part, that that was a good thing.
Everyone already thinks they know what Pope Francis is going to be like and what he's going to do. They have tried both the "liberal" hat and the "conservative" hat on him -- which was very amusing, reading articles saying the exact opposite things about the same guy in the same paper on the same day -- and found that neither fit. So they shoved on the liberal hat and now we're supposed to assume he's a liberal, I guess? Except the real liberals are still annoyed because he's already said he believes in church teaching on this, that, and the other unpopular thing.
Keep in mind that I have said in the past, "If it's possible for there to be such a thing as a liberal orthodox Catholic, that would be me." And I think to some extent that's Pope Francis, too. His sympathies are with the poor, he's already mentioned the environment, and he isn't much into small-t traditions. But I don't think we should for a second assume that that tells us everything about what he will do.
What scares me, though, is not what he'll do. It's what other people will do. I've been reading the comments on Rorate Coeli (a rather traditional blog), which I don't recommend doing right now. There is a lot of shrieking and moaning and gnashing of teeth because we now have a "liberal pope." The articles that site is posting are ridiculous, like a quote by the cardinal who sat next to Bergoglio in the conclave and is reported to be friendly with him, implying that the liturgy needs renewal. And everyone leaps on that shrieking, "The Pope is going to redo the whole Mass yet again!" No. He is not. At least, not so far as I know. Can't you at least let him tell you himself what he would like to do?
My favorite comment all day has been this: "Rodrigo Borgia himself would be a better candidate. At least Alexandrer VI didn't mess with the liturgy!" (For those of you who don't know, Alexander VI was a libertine with lots of illegitimate children whom he made nobles and cardinals. Commonly considered one of the worst Popes of all time.)
Traditionalists are assuming their Latin Mass will be ripped away from them. Some are advising joining the SSPX and others the Eastern rites. (Eastern Catholics are saying, "Please don't. We are not an asylum for disaffected Westerners.") One person commented that he had already stopped attending Mass over this.
I think that's terrible. How can you let your fears of what the Pope might do come between you and God, present for you in the Eucharist? If you are afraid, don't flee from him, flee to him!
But it gets worse. There's this ... individual ... on the internet who goes by the name "Maria D*vine Mercy" (hope that asterisk keeps her adherents away) and claims to be receiving private revelations from Jesus. Of course there are dozens of these on the internet, plus like six antipopes, so I don't usually lose sleep, but unfortunately she got lucky. She claimed Benedict would be driven out of office in a huge scandal. Of course that isn't what happened, but it's close enough and now her followers--she has at least 17,000--are crowing about it. Worse still, her next prophecy is that the next pope will really be an antipope:
"The false prophet will now take over the Seat in Rome. . . . They will bring God’s children under the rule of the little horn, who will sit in pompous splendour in the Seat of Peter. . . . Seated in the Chair of Peter, this imposter will shout aloud and proudly proclaim his solution to unite all churches as one. Hailed as a modern innovator, he will be applauded by the secular world because he will condone sin. He will bring in new laws, which will, not only contradict the Teachings of the Catholic Church, but which will go against all Christian laws."
Read why this is not true here. Short answer being that we have a guarantee from Christ that the gates of hell will not prevail against the Church founded on the rock of Peter. But you can see what this would do to people. There are some people who really believe Francis is an antipope and that it is their duty to disobey him. It doesn't even matter what he says or does. This "prophetess" has told them to expect an antipope, so they are out. A schism.
It breaks my heart. Just breaks it.
Maybe we need to go back to the words of yet another Pope, John Paul II. His most famous quote: "Do not be afraid." How can we not be afraid, with so much uncertain? The traditionalists afraid for their liturgy, the neoconservatives afraid of the gay agenda, the liberals afraid of corruption in the Curia, and pretty much everyone (myself included) terrified that we haven't seen the last of the sex abuse scandals and desperate to see the Church cleansed of all those monsters. We're so, so scared.
But we have to take courage, for Christ has overcome the world already. He promised to be with us always, even to the end of time. First, with the Eucharist, where we have his real presence. And second, in the papacy, where we get actual guidance about the right way to go. Why be Catholic? Because God is here. That is the only answer there has ever been.
I see it like a sailboat, turning first this way and then that way to catch the wind. Those of us on board are shrieking that we are seasick, that we can't figure out where this boat is going to, that we are perishing. But what we don't see is that Christ is holding the tiller himself. He turns it a bit to the right, a bit to the left, just a touch, just the right amount. He knows where he's taking us. We don't have to know all this. We just have to sit tight, hold on, and try to have a little faith.
The time between Benedict's resignation and Pope Francis's election was a time of much fear and trembling for me, as I suppose it was for every Catholic. Who will it be? Someone "good," a real spiritual father, a wise leader? Or someone who, while not teaching heresy, wounds the Church through neglect or scandal? We have been spoiled in the past century ... we are accustomed to very holy Popes, whereas at different times in history there have been some real rotters. But even in this century, I don't think anyone who's been paying attention could say every Pope was perfect or made the right decisions all of the time.
When the news articles and stories came pouring in about Pope Francis, about his simplicity, his warmth, his wise words, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He seems like a good one. We're in the clear.
But I can see now that maybe that was premature.
I'm not afraid that Francis isn't going to be a great pope. I'm pretty sure he is. But it's a little scary all the same. Are transitions from one papacy to another always this difficult? This is only my second (like most Catholics I know), and I didn't notice a huge upheaval when Benedict was elected. But then I was at Christendom and everyone there loooooved him.
Yet even then, there was a lot of speculation and a lot of assumptions which turned out to be false. Both Benedict's admirers and his enemies called him "God's Rottweiler," the Grand Inquisitor, and so forth. They expected him to be bringing the smackdown. Those who knew him well told us he was gentle, patient, scholarly, and so forth, but all anyone could see was that he was known to be very conservative. So the conservatives and traditionalists (aka everyone I knew) threw parties, and the liberals (so I heard) were wailing and gnashing their teeth.
But what happened? We got a kind, patient, gentle Holy Father, one with a professorial bent. He wrote three encyclicals, two on love and one on hope and zero on smackdowns. He worked on unifying the Eastern Churches (and made enormous progress) and the SSPX (which is still being stubborn) and the Anglicans (which I think has been mostly a success too). He allowed broader use of the Latin Mass, which of course had made that wing of the Church love him forever. But he just wasn't as harsh as was suspected. No excommunications. No anathemas. And I think, for the most part, that that was a good thing.
Everyone already thinks they know what Pope Francis is going to be like and what he's going to do. They have tried both the "liberal" hat and the "conservative" hat on him -- which was very amusing, reading articles saying the exact opposite things about the same guy in the same paper on the same day -- and found that neither fit. So they shoved on the liberal hat and now we're supposed to assume he's a liberal, I guess? Except the real liberals are still annoyed because he's already said he believes in church teaching on this, that, and the other unpopular thing.
Keep in mind that I have said in the past, "If it's possible for there to be such a thing as a liberal orthodox Catholic, that would be me." And I think to some extent that's Pope Francis, too. His sympathies are with the poor, he's already mentioned the environment, and he isn't much into small-t traditions. But I don't think we should for a second assume that that tells us everything about what he will do.
What scares me, though, is not what he'll do. It's what other people will do. I've been reading the comments on Rorate Coeli (a rather traditional blog), which I don't recommend doing right now. There is a lot of shrieking and moaning and gnashing of teeth because we now have a "liberal pope." The articles that site is posting are ridiculous, like a quote by the cardinal who sat next to Bergoglio in the conclave and is reported to be friendly with him, implying that the liturgy needs renewal. And everyone leaps on that shrieking, "The Pope is going to redo the whole Mass yet again!" No. He is not. At least, not so far as I know. Can't you at least let him tell you himself what he would like to do?
My favorite comment all day has been this: "Rodrigo Borgia himself would be a better candidate. At least Alexandrer VI didn't mess with the liturgy!" (For those of you who don't know, Alexander VI was a libertine with lots of illegitimate children whom he made nobles and cardinals. Commonly considered one of the worst Popes of all time.)
Traditionalists are assuming their Latin Mass will be ripped away from them. Some are advising joining the SSPX and others the Eastern rites. (Eastern Catholics are saying, "Please don't. We are not an asylum for disaffected Westerners.") One person commented that he had already stopped attending Mass over this.
I think that's terrible. How can you let your fears of what the Pope might do come between you and God, present for you in the Eucharist? If you are afraid, don't flee from him, flee to him!
But it gets worse. There's this ... individual ... on the internet who goes by the name "Maria D*vine Mercy" (hope that asterisk keeps her adherents away) and claims to be receiving private revelations from Jesus. Of course there are dozens of these on the internet, plus like six antipopes, so I don't usually lose sleep, but unfortunately she got lucky. She claimed Benedict would be driven out of office in a huge scandal. Of course that isn't what happened, but it's close enough and now her followers--she has at least 17,000--are crowing about it. Worse still, her next prophecy is that the next pope will really be an antipope:
"The false prophet will now take over the Seat in Rome. . . . They will bring God’s children under the rule of the little horn, who will sit in pompous splendour in the Seat of Peter. . . . Seated in the Chair of Peter, this imposter will shout aloud and proudly proclaim his solution to unite all churches as one. Hailed as a modern innovator, he will be applauded by the secular world because he will condone sin. He will bring in new laws, which will, not only contradict the Teachings of the Catholic Church, but which will go against all Christian laws."
Read why this is not true here. Short answer being that we have a guarantee from Christ that the gates of hell will not prevail against the Church founded on the rock of Peter. But you can see what this would do to people. There are some people who really believe Francis is an antipope and that it is their duty to disobey him. It doesn't even matter what he says or does. This "prophetess" has told them to expect an antipope, so they are out. A schism.
It breaks my heart. Just breaks it.
Maybe we need to go back to the words of yet another Pope, John Paul II. His most famous quote: "Do not be afraid." How can we not be afraid, with so much uncertain? The traditionalists afraid for their liturgy, the neoconservatives afraid of the gay agenda, the liberals afraid of corruption in the Curia, and pretty much everyone (myself included) terrified that we haven't seen the last of the sex abuse scandals and desperate to see the Church cleansed of all those monsters. We're so, so scared.
But we have to take courage, for Christ has overcome the world already. He promised to be with us always, even to the end of time. First, with the Eucharist, where we have his real presence. And second, in the papacy, where we get actual guidance about the right way to go. Why be Catholic? Because God is here. That is the only answer there has ever been.
I see it like a sailboat, turning first this way and then that way to catch the wind. Those of us on board are shrieking that we are seasick, that we can't figure out where this boat is going to, that we are perishing. But what we don't see is that Christ is holding the tiller himself. He turns it a bit to the right, a bit to the left, just a touch, just the right amount. He knows where he's taking us. We don't have to know all this. We just have to sit tight, hold on, and try to have a little faith.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Pope Francis
So, big surprise out of the conclave there, hm? Though I would have been surprised no matter what. I deliberately didn't research the papabile because I know how it goes. Whoever is considered a likely choice ends up not being it, and relatively often it's someone no one has heard of.
Here are some random thoughts on the conclave and our new Pope, in no particular order.
We watched the white smoke livestreaming online. Or rather, I watched while the kids whined and grabbed at me and destroyed the house. Sigh. And then the computer crashed and I spent five minutes restarting and freaking out that the announcement would come while I was struggling to get back to the website! But no worries. We had a long wait.
When the cardinal came out to make the announcement, my thoughts went like this: "Man, he looks dour. Either his pick didn't win, or he is cross about something else. George? Who's named George? Surely an English speaker then? Wait, that's an Italian last name. B-something. Not Bertone?! If it's Bertone I think I am going to have to give up on the idea that the Holy Spirit chooses the Pope, because the God I know would know better than to pick Bertone. But no, his first name's Tarcisio, not George. He chooses the name Francis?! That's a good sign for sure! Finally these announcers are telling us who it is ... and it's no one I've ever heard of. Okay, research time."
I think it's awesome that by the time I got to Wikipedia it had already been edited. "Jorge Bergoglio" redirected to "Pope Francis I" and then five minutes later to just "Pope Francis." (Pope Francis I is incorrect because there's no Francis II. That's like going by Joe Sr. if you don't have a son named Joe Jr.)
Pope Francis is the first New World pope, the first Jesuit pope, the first pope to choose the name Francis. He's from Argentina, 76 years old (right when people were expecting a younger pope), the son of a railway worker. Before entering seminary, he studied chemistry, and when out of favor with the leaders of the Jesuits, he worked as a high school science teacher. He's known for being quiet and a bit shy.
I am really excited about him for so many reasons. First of all his personal asceticism. He's famous for leaving the official bishop's residence empty and living in a small apartment and cooking his own meals. He used to take the bus instead of a limo or taxi. There are photos of him all over washing the feet of various people, including AIDS patients. In a time when we keep getting grief for the Pope's supposed wealth, I'm very excited to see someone who might cut down on all the pomp and circumstance. I don't believe it does any good.
He wasn't even Pope for a day before I saw him criticized on Facebook for not wearing a red cape and a gold pectoral cross when he appeared for the first time. Seriously? And now I'm in a debate with some people on Facebook over whether all those trappings (tiaras, red shoes, sedan chairs, ad infinitum) really do anyone any good, or if we'd be better off without them. I take the latter position. Did you know the Popes used to wear a triple crown and ride around on a giant sedan chair? I say, good riddance. It looks ridiculous and it gives entirely the wrong idea of what the Pope is all about. "Servant of the Servants of God" is the pope's oldest title ... and I am pretty sure St. Peter didn't ride through the streets of Rome on a sedan chair on the way to getting crucified upside-down.
Simcha Fisher did a great article about Pope Francis. "Pope Francis, future patron saint of the socially awkward. Oh, how we've needed you!" That was how I found out he went home from St. Peter's on the cardinal's bus and went out the next morning to pray at St. Mary Major ... and pick up his luggage and pay his hotel bill. I can just imagine those cardinals tagging along: "But Holy Father, you can't -- Holy Father, you don't have to -- Holy Father, let me carry -- oh, for heaven's sake!" That makes me smile.
So did First Things. "Cardinal Bergolio is an interesting figure and hard to place within the favored framework of “conservatives versus liberals.” That is in any case an ill-conceived opposition since it imports political or cultural categories into a religious context where they really do not fit. It also is especially ill-suited to Bergoglio, for seen from one perspective he appears to conform to the “progressive” profile, being a strong advocate of economic justice and compassion for the poor; but viewed from another he appears a stout defender of traditional Catholic teachings on sexual ethics and beginning- and end-of-life issues."
In other words, he is really Catholic, not left Catholic (super Catholic when it comes to caring for the poor, not so much into that doctrine stuff) or right Catholic (crazy about doctrine and liturgy, but thinks saying "get a job" is the same as caring for the poor). He's Catholic like me. And I like that.
Here are some random thoughts on the conclave and our new Pope, in no particular order.
We watched the white smoke livestreaming online. Or rather, I watched while the kids whined and grabbed at me and destroyed the house. Sigh. And then the computer crashed and I spent five minutes restarting and freaking out that the announcement would come while I was struggling to get back to the website! But no worries. We had a long wait.
When the cardinal came out to make the announcement, my thoughts went like this: "Man, he looks dour. Either his pick didn't win, or he is cross about something else. George? Who's named George? Surely an English speaker then? Wait, that's an Italian last name. B-something. Not Bertone?! If it's Bertone I think I am going to have to give up on the idea that the Holy Spirit chooses the Pope, because the God I know would know better than to pick Bertone. But no, his first name's Tarcisio, not George. He chooses the name Francis?! That's a good sign for sure! Finally these announcers are telling us who it is ... and it's no one I've ever heard of. Okay, research time."
I think it's awesome that by the time I got to Wikipedia it had already been edited. "Jorge Bergoglio" redirected to "Pope Francis I" and then five minutes later to just "Pope Francis." (Pope Francis I is incorrect because there's no Francis II. That's like going by Joe Sr. if you don't have a son named Joe Jr.)
Pope Francis is the first New World pope, the first Jesuit pope, the first pope to choose the name Francis. He's from Argentina, 76 years old (right when people were expecting a younger pope), the son of a railway worker. Before entering seminary, he studied chemistry, and when out of favor with the leaders of the Jesuits, he worked as a high school science teacher. He's known for being quiet and a bit shy.
I am really excited about him for so many reasons. First of all his personal asceticism. He's famous for leaving the official bishop's residence empty and living in a small apartment and cooking his own meals. He used to take the bus instead of a limo or taxi. There are photos of him all over washing the feet of various people, including AIDS patients. In a time when we keep getting grief for the Pope's supposed wealth, I'm very excited to see someone who might cut down on all the pomp and circumstance. I don't believe it does any good.
He wasn't even Pope for a day before I saw him criticized on Facebook for not wearing a red cape and a gold pectoral cross when he appeared for the first time. Seriously? And now I'm in a debate with some people on Facebook over whether all those trappings (tiaras, red shoes, sedan chairs, ad infinitum) really do anyone any good, or if we'd be better off without them. I take the latter position. Did you know the Popes used to wear a triple crown and ride around on a giant sedan chair? I say, good riddance. It looks ridiculous and it gives entirely the wrong idea of what the Pope is all about. "Servant of the Servants of God" is the pope's oldest title ... and I am pretty sure St. Peter didn't ride through the streets of Rome on a sedan chair on the way to getting crucified upside-down.
Simcha Fisher did a great article about Pope Francis. "Pope Francis, future patron saint of the socially awkward. Oh, how we've needed you!" That was how I found out he went home from St. Peter's on the cardinal's bus and went out the next morning to pray at St. Mary Major ... and pick up his luggage and pay his hotel bill. I can just imagine those cardinals tagging along: "But Holy Father, you can't -- Holy Father, you don't have to -- Holy Father, let me carry -- oh, for heaven's sake!" That makes me smile.
So did First Things. "Cardinal Bergolio is an interesting figure and hard to place within the favored framework of “conservatives versus liberals.” That is in any case an ill-conceived opposition since it imports political or cultural categories into a religious context where they really do not fit. It also is especially ill-suited to Bergoglio, for seen from one perspective he appears to conform to the “progressive” profile, being a strong advocate of economic justice and compassion for the poor; but viewed from another he appears a stout defender of traditional Catholic teachings on sexual ethics and beginning- and end-of-life issues."
In other words, he is really Catholic, not left Catholic (super Catholic when it comes to caring for the poor, not so much into that doctrine stuff) or right Catholic (crazy about doctrine and liturgy, but thinks saying "get a job" is the same as caring for the poor). He's Catholic like me. And I like that.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
So tired of this
As a Catholic, the best thing I can ever hope for from the news media is that they will completely ignore my religion. That's right. A good Catholic news day is one in which there is no news.
Because the second there is news about the Church -- like now, with the conclave going on -- it seems like every newspaper and TV personality thinks, "Oh! Catholics! That reminds me about the personal bone I have to pick with them."
Reactions I've heard lately:
1. "There's a conclave going on! Bet all those cardinals are pedophiles, snicker snicker. Nothing so funny as sex abuse." (Jon Stewart said that, more or less.)
2. "Ah, Catholics! They're so out of touch about sex. Don't the cardinals realize that most Catholics don't believe Catholic sexual teachings? Time to rewrite the Catechism!" (The Washington Post said this one.)
3. "Oh, those woman-hating Catholics. If only there were a female Pope, we'd finally get the kind of Catholic Church we'd all like to see."
4. "Wait, I don't get it. How is X person I respect a Catholic? Don't they know their tithes support sex abuse?"
5. "...the Pope, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world ..."
Because I have some remnants of good sense, I have not been commenting on this crap. That's like wandering into the wrong pub in Scotland during a soccer match, wearing the wrong team's colors. Not gonna do it.
But these statements do deserve answers, so here goes.
1. Sex abuse is not funny. It will never, ever be even a little bit funny. Is the Holocaust funny? What about ethnic cleansing? Slavery? No? Okay, what makes sex abuse any different?
This doesn't mean we shouldn't be angry about it. Or that we should ignore it. But it's something that should be taken seriously. Those responsible should most definitely be punished; I feel quite strongly about that. But those who are not responsible in any way -- like most priests aren't -- don't deserve to be treated as if they are. Try this parallel on for size: "Oh, you're German? I'd better not borrow your soap then -- it's probably made from the corpses of Jews!"
Is that funny? No, it is not. It's not funny, first, because the bodies of Jews and other Holocaust victims being turned into soap is not funny. And second, because you just assumed that a person, purely by virtue of being German, is responsible for the Holocaust.
Most Catholics are opposed to sex abuse. Most of us are horrified and sickened by it. You might not hear this so much because Catholics can be afraid to talk about it at all. But believe me, we are. And it's really, really hard on priests to be suspected of abusing children solely by virtue of their vocation. Imagine how you might feel if you dedicated your entire life to serving God and others and as a result, had people eying you with suspicion or openly insulting you and calling you a child molester. This is one reason why it's important to dig deep, uncover every guilty priest, and punish them. Only when we're sure we're rid of all the bad eggs can we stop suspecting all priests, all the time. (Though don't get me wrong. People still will suspect all priests, all the time, probably for the next hundred years at least. But at least it won't be justifiable.)
2. I'm sure it must be uncomfortable for the modern world to find itself so out of touch with an organization that claims to be in possession of the truth about human morality. But I don't think it's true that simply because most people nowadays disagree, our doctrines are wrong. In AD 100, most people thought gladitorial games were okay. In AD 1000, people thought it was okay to oppress the poor, if you were lucky enough to be in a position to do so. In AD 1965, pretty much everyone decided birth control was a-okay. The Catholic Church is always the stick in the mud that refuses to get with the program.
Our sexual ethics are difficult and in contradiction to basically everything that modern society is based on. But that really doesn't affect the possibility that they might be true. I believe that they are true, that the Church has the authority to tell me they are true, and that they are unchanging. Following the Church's teachings on sex has not always been easy in my own life, and yet I can clearly see how fidelity to those teachings has shaped my life into the beautiful thing it is today. I don't want those teachings to change.
But even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Even if 100 out of 100 people in the pews thought contraception was okay, that wouldn't make it okay, and it wouldn't make the Church suddenly declare that it was. There was a time when two thirds of bishops thought that Jesus was a lesser creation of God the Father instead of his equal. They even elected a heretic bishop as Pope. And the second that Pope took office, he proclaimed to everyone the teaching the Church has always held and still holds today, that the Son is consubstantial with the Father. That tells me there's more to this dogma thing than a bunch of old guys making stuff up. God is really, somehow, in his mysterious way, guiding the Church.
If you don't believe that, then at least believe this: the Catholic Church is not now and will not ever be a democracy. We base our teachings on what, historically, our teachings have always been. We don't change our doctrines ... ever. And the teaching on contraception is one of those unchangeable things. It is hugely inconvenient sometimes and requires a great deal of personal sacrifice, but it does appear that it comes from God, so there's no helping it.
3. I think people confuse the priesthood with power. This is called clericalism and it's bad. Priests are intended to be servants. Their job is to act in the place of Christ to provide us with sacraments. Actual decision-making -- insofar as there are decisions to make, because as I said above we don't change our doctrines -- could be done by anybody. There are lots of women who are theologians, abbesses, parish council presidents, and so forth. If these women don't have enough power, that might be a problem. But ordaining them isn't the solution. The solution is to give the women who are already working within the Church more authority when it comes to decision-making.
But the decision to allow birth control or ordain women or marry gays or whatever the world would like us to do, isn't actually an option at all. The magisterium's job isn't to decide things or to make things up. Its job is to look into the teachings we have always had, and to continue saying the same stuff. That's not a position of power. It's a position of humbly doing what you're told.
4. First of all, "tithing" is kind of a Protestant thing. Catholics are not required to give any particular amount to any particular thing. We're supposed to support the work of the Church according to our means ... that's it. Some people like to give to various independent Catholic charities. Most of us put at least something in the collection basket on Sunday, but that goes directly to our own parish, no one else. To give money to the diocese, we have to give to the bishops' appeals. To give to Rome, we can do Peter's Pence once a year. Anyway no one follows up on this or keeps track, so if a Catholic is concerned about his diocese's handling of sex abuse accusations, he can simply not give them any money.
But if you do give money to the Church, odds are that most of it is used to pay the priest, pay the organist if you are lucky enough to have one, buy vestments, keep the lights on, keep the heat on, repave the parking lot, buy bread and wine for Mass, support retired priests, keep the soup kitchen open, buy blankets for the homeless shelter, and so forth. If you are a Catholic who is concerned about this -- find out! And then donate only to those parishes/dioceses/charities that are completely above-board about where their money is going.
5. Pope is actually a pretty thankless job. Yeah, the Pope has a fairly nice apartment, and nuns to cook his meals for him. My guess is that it's not as nice as the White House, with its professional staff and chefs. But what most people mean when they say "the Pope is rich" is St. Peter's and the Vatican Museum.
I personally think that St. Peter's was a waste of money to build. It's beautiful, but was it really worth the Protestant revolt? But it's here now. Bulldozing it would also cost money at this point. But the Church isn't making money off St. Peter's. Unlike many historic churches owned by the Italian government, it's always free to visit. The Vatican doesn't have big hotels, restaurants, or gift shops around to make money off tourism. Even the bathrooms are free, which can't be said for many bathrooms in Rome. The Vatican Museum does cost -- 16 euro I think -- but it's cheap for entrance to one of the world's major museums. It's also free once a month. You know who profits off all the tourism of the Vatican? Italy. Italy is where there are hotels, restaurants, gift shops, street vendors, and so forth.
The Pope is only powerful in the sense that everything is his fault. But Church teaching is unchangeable, so again, his job is to humbly keep repeating the same stuff we've always believed. Doesn't matter if the Pope happens to disagree with it. He can't change it. He has to keep saying the same stuff regardless. That doesn't sound like power to me.
Pope is not a paid position, and though it does come with benefits, it also has a lot of downsides. Benedict was a virtual prisoner of the Vatican. With the level of fame he had, the excitement people had about meeting him, every trip had to be a state trip. It's not like he could just fly home, coach class, to Bavaria to visit his old home. Imagine the fuss that would cause. Meanwhile he gets to be reviled and hated by large numbers of people and considered directly responsible for every priest that abuses a child, every bishop that covers it up, every official in the Vatican bank who launders money. That's all on him.
I have seen the boss's job, and I do.not.want it.
Anyway, I'm just looking forward to things settling down in a month or two. We'll have a new Pope, who hopefully will be okay, and maybe people will get tired of talking about my religion and go on to mock someone else. Just leave me to worship my God in peace.
Because the second there is news about the Church -- like now, with the conclave going on -- it seems like every newspaper and TV personality thinks, "Oh! Catholics! That reminds me about the personal bone I have to pick with them."
Reactions I've heard lately:
1. "There's a conclave going on! Bet all those cardinals are pedophiles, snicker snicker. Nothing so funny as sex abuse." (Jon Stewart said that, more or less.)
2. "Ah, Catholics! They're so out of touch about sex. Don't the cardinals realize that most Catholics don't believe Catholic sexual teachings? Time to rewrite the Catechism!" (The Washington Post said this one.)
3. "Oh, those woman-hating Catholics. If only there were a female Pope, we'd finally get the kind of Catholic Church we'd all like to see."
4. "Wait, I don't get it. How is X person I respect a Catholic? Don't they know their tithes support sex abuse?"
5. "...the Pope, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world ..."
Because I have some remnants of good sense, I have not been commenting on this crap. That's like wandering into the wrong pub in Scotland during a soccer match, wearing the wrong team's colors. Not gonna do it.
But these statements do deserve answers, so here goes.
1. Sex abuse is not funny. It will never, ever be even a little bit funny. Is the Holocaust funny? What about ethnic cleansing? Slavery? No? Okay, what makes sex abuse any different?
This doesn't mean we shouldn't be angry about it. Or that we should ignore it. But it's something that should be taken seriously. Those responsible should most definitely be punished; I feel quite strongly about that. But those who are not responsible in any way -- like most priests aren't -- don't deserve to be treated as if they are. Try this parallel on for size: "Oh, you're German? I'd better not borrow your soap then -- it's probably made from the corpses of Jews!"
Is that funny? No, it is not. It's not funny, first, because the bodies of Jews and other Holocaust victims being turned into soap is not funny. And second, because you just assumed that a person, purely by virtue of being German, is responsible for the Holocaust.
Most Catholics are opposed to sex abuse. Most of us are horrified and sickened by it. You might not hear this so much because Catholics can be afraid to talk about it at all. But believe me, we are. And it's really, really hard on priests to be suspected of abusing children solely by virtue of their vocation. Imagine how you might feel if you dedicated your entire life to serving God and others and as a result, had people eying you with suspicion or openly insulting you and calling you a child molester. This is one reason why it's important to dig deep, uncover every guilty priest, and punish them. Only when we're sure we're rid of all the bad eggs can we stop suspecting all priests, all the time. (Though don't get me wrong. People still will suspect all priests, all the time, probably for the next hundred years at least. But at least it won't be justifiable.)
2. I'm sure it must be uncomfortable for the modern world to find itself so out of touch with an organization that claims to be in possession of the truth about human morality. But I don't think it's true that simply because most people nowadays disagree, our doctrines are wrong. In AD 100, most people thought gladitorial games were okay. In AD 1000, people thought it was okay to oppress the poor, if you were lucky enough to be in a position to do so. In AD 1965, pretty much everyone decided birth control was a-okay. The Catholic Church is always the stick in the mud that refuses to get with the program.
Our sexual ethics are difficult and in contradiction to basically everything that modern society is based on. But that really doesn't affect the possibility that they might be true. I believe that they are true, that the Church has the authority to tell me they are true, and that they are unchanging. Following the Church's teachings on sex has not always been easy in my own life, and yet I can clearly see how fidelity to those teachings has shaped my life into the beautiful thing it is today. I don't want those teachings to change.
But even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Even if 100 out of 100 people in the pews thought contraception was okay, that wouldn't make it okay, and it wouldn't make the Church suddenly declare that it was. There was a time when two thirds of bishops thought that Jesus was a lesser creation of God the Father instead of his equal. They even elected a heretic bishop as Pope. And the second that Pope took office, he proclaimed to everyone the teaching the Church has always held and still holds today, that the Son is consubstantial with the Father. That tells me there's more to this dogma thing than a bunch of old guys making stuff up. God is really, somehow, in his mysterious way, guiding the Church.
If you don't believe that, then at least believe this: the Catholic Church is not now and will not ever be a democracy. We base our teachings on what, historically, our teachings have always been. We don't change our doctrines ... ever. And the teaching on contraception is one of those unchangeable things. It is hugely inconvenient sometimes and requires a great deal of personal sacrifice, but it does appear that it comes from God, so there's no helping it.
3. I think people confuse the priesthood with power. This is called clericalism and it's bad. Priests are intended to be servants. Their job is to act in the place of Christ to provide us with sacraments. Actual decision-making -- insofar as there are decisions to make, because as I said above we don't change our doctrines -- could be done by anybody. There are lots of women who are theologians, abbesses, parish council presidents, and so forth. If these women don't have enough power, that might be a problem. But ordaining them isn't the solution. The solution is to give the women who are already working within the Church more authority when it comes to decision-making.
But the decision to allow birth control or ordain women or marry gays or whatever the world would like us to do, isn't actually an option at all. The magisterium's job isn't to decide things or to make things up. Its job is to look into the teachings we have always had, and to continue saying the same stuff. That's not a position of power. It's a position of humbly doing what you're told.
4. First of all, "tithing" is kind of a Protestant thing. Catholics are not required to give any particular amount to any particular thing. We're supposed to support the work of the Church according to our means ... that's it. Some people like to give to various independent Catholic charities. Most of us put at least something in the collection basket on Sunday, but that goes directly to our own parish, no one else. To give money to the diocese, we have to give to the bishops' appeals. To give to Rome, we can do Peter's Pence once a year. Anyway no one follows up on this or keeps track, so if a Catholic is concerned about his diocese's handling of sex abuse accusations, he can simply not give them any money.
But if you do give money to the Church, odds are that most of it is used to pay the priest, pay the organist if you are lucky enough to have one, buy vestments, keep the lights on, keep the heat on, repave the parking lot, buy bread and wine for Mass, support retired priests, keep the soup kitchen open, buy blankets for the homeless shelter, and so forth. If you are a Catholic who is concerned about this -- find out! And then donate only to those parishes/dioceses/charities that are completely above-board about where their money is going.
5. Pope is actually a pretty thankless job. Yeah, the Pope has a fairly nice apartment, and nuns to cook his meals for him. My guess is that it's not as nice as the White House, with its professional staff and chefs. But what most people mean when they say "the Pope is rich" is St. Peter's and the Vatican Museum.
I personally think that St. Peter's was a waste of money to build. It's beautiful, but was it really worth the Protestant revolt? But it's here now. Bulldozing it would also cost money at this point. But the Church isn't making money off St. Peter's. Unlike many historic churches owned by the Italian government, it's always free to visit. The Vatican doesn't have big hotels, restaurants, or gift shops around to make money off tourism. Even the bathrooms are free, which can't be said for many bathrooms in Rome. The Vatican Museum does cost -- 16 euro I think -- but it's cheap for entrance to one of the world's major museums. It's also free once a month. You know who profits off all the tourism of the Vatican? Italy. Italy is where there are hotels, restaurants, gift shops, street vendors, and so forth.
The Pope is only powerful in the sense that everything is his fault. But Church teaching is unchangeable, so again, his job is to humbly keep repeating the same stuff we've always believed. Doesn't matter if the Pope happens to disagree with it. He can't change it. He has to keep saying the same stuff regardless. That doesn't sound like power to me.
Pope is not a paid position, and though it does come with benefits, it also has a lot of downsides. Benedict was a virtual prisoner of the Vatican. With the level of fame he had, the excitement people had about meeting him, every trip had to be a state trip. It's not like he could just fly home, coach class, to Bavaria to visit his old home. Imagine the fuss that would cause. Meanwhile he gets to be reviled and hated by large numbers of people and considered directly responsible for every priest that abuses a child, every bishop that covers it up, every official in the Vatican bank who launders money. That's all on him.
I have seen the boss's job, and I do.not.want it.
Anyway, I'm just looking forward to things settling down in a month or two. We'll have a new Pope, who hopefully will be okay, and maybe people will get tired of talking about my religion and go on to mock someone else. Just leave me to worship my God in peace.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Request for readers
So, my book is done, and I've done some preliminary editing. But the trouble is that I still can't tell if it's good. I really enjoyed reading it over. The wonderful thing about writing 100,000 words in two months while sleep-deprived and distracted with two small children is that when you read it over, it's all completely new. I barely remember writing it. But the thing is, I always like my writing if I can ever manage to read it instead of skimming over it. It's always just the way I like it: some description but not much, characters that I TOTALLY identify with, plot that moves at exactly the pace I'm comfortable with ... because I wrote it and I always write the book I would like to read.
What I mean is, I need someone else to look at it. But not lots of someone elses ... everyone is offering, but I really only want two or three people to read it at this point. Otherwise I'll get too much feedback, which is just as bad as not enough.
So here's a list of what I want from a reader:
*You have to be willing to give substantial feedback. I do not want to hear back with "It's great, couldn't put it down." Argh. That is no help. I'm going to have a list of specific questions I'd like you to answer, and if you feel like jotting down the page numbers of any specific typos, that would be GREAT.
*You have to be willing to give honest feedback. I would be happy to hear, "Put this one under your bed and start on the next," rather than "It's great," only to hear, "It's awful" from all the publishers. If you liked it but hated the battle scenes and thought I needed more descriptions... that actually gives me somewhere to start and is the best kind of advice.
*I would prefer people who often read this genre. It's historical fantasy set in 5th century Britain ... so if you are a fantasy nerd or especially an Arthuriana nerd, I would like to hear from you.
*Ideally you've written a bit yourself. That often helps you be a better editor.
*I'd like it if you could finish within a month or two. So volunteer if you have a little time on your hands. It takes me a couple of days to read through it each time, but ... well, I'm no judge. It's a pretty standard length for a fantasy novel.
Comment below if you'd like to volunteer. I'll pick a few people and send them the manuscript. If I don't pick you, I might send you a subsequent draft later, or my query and synopsis, so that a fresh person can read these.
Sorry to be so demanding about this ... but think of the benefits! You get to read a book which might possibly be good, for free! And ... no, that's about it. But you'd be doing me a solid, anyway.
What I mean is, I need someone else to look at it. But not lots of someone elses ... everyone is offering, but I really only want two or three people to read it at this point. Otherwise I'll get too much feedback, which is just as bad as not enough.
So here's a list of what I want from a reader:
*You have to be willing to give substantial feedback. I do not want to hear back with "It's great, couldn't put it down." Argh. That is no help. I'm going to have a list of specific questions I'd like you to answer, and if you feel like jotting down the page numbers of any specific typos, that would be GREAT.
*You have to be willing to give honest feedback. I would be happy to hear, "Put this one under your bed and start on the next," rather than "It's great," only to hear, "It's awful" from all the publishers. If you liked it but hated the battle scenes and thought I needed more descriptions... that actually gives me somewhere to start and is the best kind of advice.
*I would prefer people who often read this genre. It's historical fantasy set in 5th century Britain ... so if you are a fantasy nerd or especially an Arthuriana nerd, I would like to hear from you.
*Ideally you've written a bit yourself. That often helps you be a better editor.
*I'd like it if you could finish within a month or two. So volunteer if you have a little time on your hands. It takes me a couple of days to read through it each time, but ... well, I'm no judge. It's a pretty standard length for a fantasy novel.
Comment below if you'd like to volunteer. I'll pick a few people and send them the manuscript. If I don't pick you, I might send you a subsequent draft later, or my query and synopsis, so that a fresh person can read these.
Sorry to be so demanding about this ... but think of the benefits! You get to read a book which might possibly be good, for free! And ... no, that's about it. But you'd be doing me a solid, anyway.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Goodbye
So today, the Pope steps down.
I'm completely in favor. The Papacy isn't the cushy job it once was in the Middle Ages, where the Church did just fine if the Holy Father decided to just nap for five years. Now it requires transatlantic flights, frequent public appearances, managing schismatics, investigating scandals, keeping up with the Vatican Bank (or trying to), and keeping a constant finger on the pulse of the entire world. The Pope is tired. He has earned this.
But I am sad. I feel Pope Benedict was my Pope.
When every Catholic I knew was saying "How dare anyone criticize a holy man like Fr. Maciel?" he had the courage to discipline him. Some say he didn't go far enough. All I know is he went far enough to convince me that there might be something to it ... which got me out of Regnum Christi. I'll never forget that. He personally changed my life just with that one little thing.
And when every Catholic I know keeps going on about small points of doctrine, about punishment, about Jerk-God, Benedict really seems to know the real God. He knows the doctrine, sure, but he keeps bringing it back to simple things like faith and love. Everyone expected deep theology from him, or maybe a new social encyclical. He wrote one called "God Is Love." It wasn't because he was vague on theology, or because he was scared of being controversial. He wrote it because people honestly still don't know, after all this time, that this is what God's about. That every point of doctrine stems from the love God has for us. The Holy Father never talked about Christianity as an unpleasant duty. He talked about it as an incomparable joy, to have the privilege of knowing Jesus.
And he was right. When I'm all fed up to here with Catholics-in-general, he still seems real to me. He reminds me again and again that despite all the messed-up human beings, the bad decisions, the scandals, the false doctrine preached by this or that Catholic, that God is here. That He is the only thing we're doing it for.
The name Benedict means "blessing." He has been a blessing to me, and I thank him for it all.
I do wonder what comes after this. Will we get yet another holy Pope with a servant's heart? It's no guarantee. We are guaranteed one that will preserve the true Catholic doctrine. If we got one who drove the Church to worldly ruin because of bad decisions, he would be by far from the first. I won't lie and say I'm not a little worried.
But good pope or bad pope, God is here. Benedict taught me that, and I won't forget it.
I'm completely in favor. The Papacy isn't the cushy job it once was in the Middle Ages, where the Church did just fine if the Holy Father decided to just nap for five years. Now it requires transatlantic flights, frequent public appearances, managing schismatics, investigating scandals, keeping up with the Vatican Bank (or trying to), and keeping a constant finger on the pulse of the entire world. The Pope is tired. He has earned this.
But I am sad. I feel Pope Benedict was my Pope.
When every Catholic I knew was saying "How dare anyone criticize a holy man like Fr. Maciel?" he had the courage to discipline him. Some say he didn't go far enough. All I know is he went far enough to convince me that there might be something to it ... which got me out of Regnum Christi. I'll never forget that. He personally changed my life just with that one little thing.
And when every Catholic I know keeps going on about small points of doctrine, about punishment, about Jerk-God, Benedict really seems to know the real God. He knows the doctrine, sure, but he keeps bringing it back to simple things like faith and love. Everyone expected deep theology from him, or maybe a new social encyclical. He wrote one called "God Is Love." It wasn't because he was vague on theology, or because he was scared of being controversial. He wrote it because people honestly still don't know, after all this time, that this is what God's about. That every point of doctrine stems from the love God has for us. The Holy Father never talked about Christianity as an unpleasant duty. He talked about it as an incomparable joy, to have the privilege of knowing Jesus.
And he was right. When I'm all fed up to here with Catholics-in-general, he still seems real to me. He reminds me again and again that despite all the messed-up human beings, the bad decisions, the scandals, the false doctrine preached by this or that Catholic, that God is here. That He is the only thing we're doing it for.
The name Benedict means "blessing." He has been a blessing to me, and I thank him for it all.
I do wonder what comes after this. Will we get yet another holy Pope with a servant's heart? It's no guarantee. We are guaranteed one that will preserve the true Catholic doctrine. If we got one who drove the Church to worldly ruin because of bad decisions, he would be by far from the first. I won't lie and say I'm not a little worried.
But good pope or bad pope, God is here. Benedict taught me that, and I won't forget it.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Walking
A lot of people claim to love traveling. But when you ask a few questions it quickly becomes clear that they actually hate traveling. What they like is getting there. They take the quickest route possible and complain intensely about five minutes of delay. Sometimes they even shut the airplane window and sleep the whole way.
I like going places. But what I really like is traveling. I like being in transit between one place and another place. The slower and more scenic the route, the better I like it.
For instance, I like flying. But given the choice, I prefer a small plane to a big one so we can fly low and look at the scenery. Or a train--trains are wonderful. While we were in the middle of a twelve-hour drive from our house to Chicago the other week, I commented that I am so glad we always drive instead of flying. John looked at me like I'd grown a third eye. We drive because it's hard to wrangle the kids on a plane and because if we had to buy three, soon four, tickets every time we wanted to visit his family, we would never be able to do it.
You see, flying, especially on a commercial jet, gives you the surreal sense that you've just walked into a metal tube, rumbled for a few hours, and walked back out to find the airport rearranged. The whole thing could be an illusion. But when you drive, you see every mile between here and Chicago. There are a lot of miles between here and Chicago, it turns out. And in that space there are so many people, and fields, and cows, and water towers, and silos. You can see the scenery changing; you see the real difference between Virginia and Illinois. Each is its own unique place, you see. We're not yet to a homogenous America, and I hope it never becomes that way.
My favorite method of transportation, where practical (and it hardly ever is) ... is walking. There's no better way to get a real sense of the distance between things. And you can actually take in the stuff in between -- the cars with no wheels and dozen bumper stickers and the toys sitting out in people's yards and the historical markers and the old guys sitting out on the porch. It's nothing exciting. People would be annoyed if you promised them a chance to "travel" and then showed them a succession of these suburban delights. But these are the bricks and mortar of our lives, and of other people's lives.
It's not just about the scenery. I also love the way walking makes me feel independent. Some people get that feeling from a car, but I've never owned a car. We own one now, but John is the primary driver and the one listed on the title. What has always made me feel independent is knowing that if I need to go somewhere, I don't need to rely on anything outside myself. The trip doesn't cost a cent, and it can't be canceled because of a flat tire. If I lived a thousand years ago or a thousand years from now, I could still get around the same way.
I mean, imagine if you were transported back to the Middle Ages. (Something I keep wishing would happen to me. Not really ... but ... maybe? I hear they had cows back then! But no tomatoes, so maybe not.) We think of the challenges of getting by without a flushing toilet, drawing water, having to start a fire before you could cook anything. But perhaps the real challenge for a modern person would be having to walk everywhere you wanted to go.
This really came to mind as I was researching my book. Did I mention it's a historical fantasy? It is, and sometimes my characters need to get around. You know how in the Middle Ages everyone just galloped around on horses every time they needed to get somewhere? About that. Turns out horses are expensive to keep and there were large segments of the population who didn't have one sitting in their garage, er, stable. Shank's pony was the way to go for most people. So I ended up having to do a lot of research on how long it might take to walk from Liverpool to Cardiff, or Bath to Gloucester, or, you know, all over the place. Google Maps is a start, but it tells you just how long it would take, in hours, if you kept up a constant speed of 3 mph. Turns out you can't actually walk for 96 hours at a constant speed of 3 mph. That speed is going to vary a heck of a lot based on who you are, how fit you are, how long you've been walking, what terrain you're walking on, what you're carrying, and what sort of weather you're walking in. So I read up on walking. What is it like to run 100 miles in a supermarathon? (Hellish, apparently, but they do it in 24 hours or so.) How many days would it take you to hike 100 miles? That would be on rough terrain, having to carry a tent and your entire food and water supply for however long you thought it might take. Experienced hikers said to budget a week for it. What if you were a member of the United States infantry, or a Roman legionnaire? In that case you could do it in four days, or if you were really pushing it, three. But what if you were just walking through the suburbs, not carrying anything, and no particular hurry?
The answer here gave me pause. Someone on yahoo answers said that he didn't think your average American could do it at all. They just wouldn't make it.
Personally, I think that's hogwash. I don't care how out of shape you are. (I don't mean disabled, but out of shape.) If you start somewhere and start walking, sooner or later you'll get where you're going. You may find yourself wanting to die at some point along the way. You may also find yourself thinner and stronger when you get there. But the human body has never been tested against distance and found lacking. Humans spread from Africa all the way to the tip of South America on foot. It just took awhile.
This of course made me resolve not to let myself get stranded at home for days in the future, but to use the two legs God gave me to get where I want to go. Grocery store? It's 1.3 miles. That's nothing. I might not want to lug all the stuff home, but I can go buy a jar of peanut butter, no problem. The library is a mile even; the church is less. I do the church one every Holy Day of Obligation. (This is, incidentally, the reason I switched from "yay, more feast days!" to "can't we have this one dispensed with too, please!")
But before I was married I really did walk everywhere I wanted to go, and it was awesome. I remember exploring every street in our neighborhood when I was 14, feeling like an explorer and drawing a map. I remember the awesome feeling of walking 45 minutes to the grocery store at the age of 16 or so to buy a candy bar. I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do. I remember how it jolted me out of my blue mood every Sunday when I walked to church when I was 22, and how I got to see the weather slowly change and the cherry blossoms come out. Why can't I get back to that?
I tried it today and now I remember. Two things hold me up: hills, and kids. The hills around here are really something. And it's not like you can go up a hill on the way there, and down on the way back. No, it's UP-DOWN-up-DOWN-down-UP the whole way. To get to church, I have to go down maybe 30 total feet of elevation. But there's simply no way to get there without going up and down, each by quite a bit more than 30 feet. Most of the options are very steep.
And kids throw in a whole monkey wrench. By myself, I don't mind hills much. The ups are harder than flat, and the downs are easier, so it comes out even. With a stroller, the ups are torturous and the downs are scary. You have to lean back against the stroller the whole time too, so it's as exhausting as the ups, or almost. Right now I have an umbrella stroller and a carrier, and we tend to mix it up -- Marko riding and Michael in the carrier, or Michael riding and Marko walking. I can't really ask Marko to walk as far as I do, but together the two kids weigh over 50 pounds, so it's no insignificant weight to haul no matter how I slice it. Then of course there's questions like working around their naps (never go when it's not naptime, or they'll nap in the stroller; never go when it is naptime, because they will invariably be kept awake), planning ahead (bring a sandwich that no one wants, or don't bring it and have them whine the whole way that they wanted it?), and weather (I don't mind most weather if I'm sufficiently bundled, but how extreme should my kids be expected to endure?).
My mother managed with me, and manages now. I have vivid memories of being dragged along on walks that felt interminable. If I whined that I was cold, she would tell me to imagine I was sitting by a hot fire, drinking hot cocoa. I seem to remember that this worked really well. And in more recent memory I have seen her with my own eyes pushing a loaded double stroller up an incline that (to me) looked almost vertical ... while carrying a third baby in a front pack. Apparently all she made me endure, walking-wise, has not put me off walks forever; rather the opposite. And the main whining I have to endure on walks is, "No, not home again already!" so maybe I should stop worrying about what I'm subjecting my kids to. They like it.
Building up the serious muscle it's going to take to truck them all the places I want to go, though ... that's the challenge. I was tired just going about a mile today. (Ooh, actually it was 1.6 miles! I feel so much better about life!) But perhaps tomorrow ... or later this week ... I can try for two, and actually brave that steep hill between us and everything else. In case of exhaustion or emergency, I can carry 50 cents for the bus.
I can do this.
P.S. Guess why I'm blogging today instead of writing? I finished the first draft of my novel! (That is to say, the first draft of this version. Since it's a totally new thing compared to what I started with, I count it as a first draft.) It's 99,000 words. Pretty sure that's too long. It might be 99,000 words too long. I finished it too recently to be able to tell you whether or not it's complete drivel.
I have some edits I already know I need to make, and when I'm done with that phase maybe I'll be brave enough to have someone read it.
I like going places. But what I really like is traveling. I like being in transit between one place and another place. The slower and more scenic the route, the better I like it.
For instance, I like flying. But given the choice, I prefer a small plane to a big one so we can fly low and look at the scenery. Or a train--trains are wonderful. While we were in the middle of a twelve-hour drive from our house to Chicago the other week, I commented that I am so glad we always drive instead of flying. John looked at me like I'd grown a third eye. We drive because it's hard to wrangle the kids on a plane and because if we had to buy three, soon four, tickets every time we wanted to visit his family, we would never be able to do it.
You see, flying, especially on a commercial jet, gives you the surreal sense that you've just walked into a metal tube, rumbled for a few hours, and walked back out to find the airport rearranged. The whole thing could be an illusion. But when you drive, you see every mile between here and Chicago. There are a lot of miles between here and Chicago, it turns out. And in that space there are so many people, and fields, and cows, and water towers, and silos. You can see the scenery changing; you see the real difference between Virginia and Illinois. Each is its own unique place, you see. We're not yet to a homogenous America, and I hope it never becomes that way.
My favorite method of transportation, where practical (and it hardly ever is) ... is walking. There's no better way to get a real sense of the distance between things. And you can actually take in the stuff in between -- the cars with no wheels and dozen bumper stickers and the toys sitting out in people's yards and the historical markers and the old guys sitting out on the porch. It's nothing exciting. People would be annoyed if you promised them a chance to "travel" and then showed them a succession of these suburban delights. But these are the bricks and mortar of our lives, and of other people's lives.
It's not just about the scenery. I also love the way walking makes me feel independent. Some people get that feeling from a car, but I've never owned a car. We own one now, but John is the primary driver and the one listed on the title. What has always made me feel independent is knowing that if I need to go somewhere, I don't need to rely on anything outside myself. The trip doesn't cost a cent, and it can't be canceled because of a flat tire. If I lived a thousand years ago or a thousand years from now, I could still get around the same way.
I mean, imagine if you were transported back to the Middle Ages. (Something I keep wishing would happen to me. Not really ... but ... maybe? I hear they had cows back then! But no tomatoes, so maybe not.) We think of the challenges of getting by without a flushing toilet, drawing water, having to start a fire before you could cook anything. But perhaps the real challenge for a modern person would be having to walk everywhere you wanted to go.
This really came to mind as I was researching my book. Did I mention it's a historical fantasy? It is, and sometimes my characters need to get around. You know how in the Middle Ages everyone just galloped around on horses every time they needed to get somewhere? About that. Turns out horses are expensive to keep and there were large segments of the population who didn't have one sitting in their garage, er, stable. Shank's pony was the way to go for most people. So I ended up having to do a lot of research on how long it might take to walk from Liverpool to Cardiff, or Bath to Gloucester, or, you know, all over the place. Google Maps is a start, but it tells you just how long it would take, in hours, if you kept up a constant speed of 3 mph. Turns out you can't actually walk for 96 hours at a constant speed of 3 mph. That speed is going to vary a heck of a lot based on who you are, how fit you are, how long you've been walking, what terrain you're walking on, what you're carrying, and what sort of weather you're walking in. So I read up on walking. What is it like to run 100 miles in a supermarathon? (Hellish, apparently, but they do it in 24 hours or so.) How many days would it take you to hike 100 miles? That would be on rough terrain, having to carry a tent and your entire food and water supply for however long you thought it might take. Experienced hikers said to budget a week for it. What if you were a member of the United States infantry, or a Roman legionnaire? In that case you could do it in four days, or if you were really pushing it, three. But what if you were just walking through the suburbs, not carrying anything, and no particular hurry?
The answer here gave me pause. Someone on yahoo answers said that he didn't think your average American could do it at all. They just wouldn't make it.
Personally, I think that's hogwash. I don't care how out of shape you are. (I don't mean disabled, but out of shape.) If you start somewhere and start walking, sooner or later you'll get where you're going. You may find yourself wanting to die at some point along the way. You may also find yourself thinner and stronger when you get there. But the human body has never been tested against distance and found lacking. Humans spread from Africa all the way to the tip of South America on foot. It just took awhile.
This of course made me resolve not to let myself get stranded at home for days in the future, but to use the two legs God gave me to get where I want to go. Grocery store? It's 1.3 miles. That's nothing. I might not want to lug all the stuff home, but I can go buy a jar of peanut butter, no problem. The library is a mile even; the church is less. I do the church one every Holy Day of Obligation. (This is, incidentally, the reason I switched from "yay, more feast days!" to "can't we have this one dispensed with too, please!")
But before I was married I really did walk everywhere I wanted to go, and it was awesome. I remember exploring every street in our neighborhood when I was 14, feeling like an explorer and drawing a map. I remember the awesome feeling of walking 45 minutes to the grocery store at the age of 16 or so to buy a candy bar. I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do. I remember how it jolted me out of my blue mood every Sunday when I walked to church when I was 22, and how I got to see the weather slowly change and the cherry blossoms come out. Why can't I get back to that?
I tried it today and now I remember. Two things hold me up: hills, and kids. The hills around here are really something. And it's not like you can go up a hill on the way there, and down on the way back. No, it's UP-DOWN-up-DOWN-down-UP the whole way. To get to church, I have to go down maybe 30 total feet of elevation. But there's simply no way to get there without going up and down, each by quite a bit more than 30 feet. Most of the options are very steep.
And kids throw in a whole monkey wrench. By myself, I don't mind hills much. The ups are harder than flat, and the downs are easier, so it comes out even. With a stroller, the ups are torturous and the downs are scary. You have to lean back against the stroller the whole time too, so it's as exhausting as the ups, or almost. Right now I have an umbrella stroller and a carrier, and we tend to mix it up -- Marko riding and Michael in the carrier, or Michael riding and Marko walking. I can't really ask Marko to walk as far as I do, but together the two kids weigh over 50 pounds, so it's no insignificant weight to haul no matter how I slice it. Then of course there's questions like working around their naps (never go when it's not naptime, or they'll nap in the stroller; never go when it is naptime, because they will invariably be kept awake), planning ahead (bring a sandwich that no one wants, or don't bring it and have them whine the whole way that they wanted it?), and weather (I don't mind most weather if I'm sufficiently bundled, but how extreme should my kids be expected to endure?).
My mother managed with me, and manages now. I have vivid memories of being dragged along on walks that felt interminable. If I whined that I was cold, she would tell me to imagine I was sitting by a hot fire, drinking hot cocoa. I seem to remember that this worked really well. And in more recent memory I have seen her with my own eyes pushing a loaded double stroller up an incline that (to me) looked almost vertical ... while carrying a third baby in a front pack. Apparently all she made me endure, walking-wise, has not put me off walks forever; rather the opposite. And the main whining I have to endure on walks is, "No, not home again already!" so maybe I should stop worrying about what I'm subjecting my kids to. They like it.
Building up the serious muscle it's going to take to truck them all the places I want to go, though ... that's the challenge. I was tired just going about a mile today. (Ooh, actually it was 1.6 miles! I feel so much better about life!) But perhaps tomorrow ... or later this week ... I can try for two, and actually brave that steep hill between us and everything else. In case of exhaustion or emergency, I can carry 50 cents for the bus.
I can do this.
P.S. Guess why I'm blogging today instead of writing? I finished the first draft of my novel! (That is to say, the first draft of this version. Since it's a totally new thing compared to what I started with, I count it as a first draft.) It's 99,000 words. Pretty sure that's too long. It might be 99,000 words too long. I finished it too recently to be able to tell you whether or not it's complete drivel.
I have some edits I already know I need to make, and when I'm done with that phase maybe I'll be brave enough to have someone read it.
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