“Haromantic” is a word Victoria has coined (from a mishearing of “how romantic”) to mean full of love.

She told me today, as we were celebrating getting a little one-to-one time, “I am haromantic.

I asked her, “Are you full of love?”

“Yes, and I will never run out,” she said. “Because love comes from God.”

“That’s true,” I told her. I couldn’t help but add, knowing that none of us stay four and “haromantic” forever, “And if you ever feel out of love, you can ask God for more, because God never runs out, and God will always give you more.”

“That’s right mom,” she said.

Published in: on March 27, 2008 at 7:20 pm  Leave a Comment  

Whither the Subtitle

Why “As Catholic As I Wanna Be . . . ” ?
1. When I first thought to myself, hey, I might like to blog about religion and spirituality, I was feeling a little defiant. I am in a mixed-faith marriage (i.e., faith + no-faith), and sometimes I feel a little constrained when The Domestic Church is a central part of Catholic life. I have some friends who are anti-Catholic. Enough said on that. So I liked the idea of having a ready place to talk about things on my mind, and hang any of those people in my life who weren’t buying it.

2. I belong to a fairly middle-of-the-road parish. We are a mixed bag, politically, though probably lean more liberal than conservative. I have friends of both parties who are active in the parish, and I think they all seem to be at home there.

Theologically and liturgically, again, we’re a mixed bag. But I like what our former director of liturgy encouraged us to do — take part in all that the Roman Catholic Church has to offer. Sure, there are folks in the parish who would never touch a rosary — too old-school — but others who lead family rosary during Lent. We’ve expanded our time for Adoration of the Eucharist during the week. We have a significant section of Boomers who freak out whenever the guitars are missing from Mass, but we also have chant and songs in Latin. The basement of our church was as plain as a concecrated worship space could be (we no longer use it because it was not accessible to anyone not good with stairs), but our main worship space is filled with statues, old-style confessionals, and a Mary chapel.

When I say I’m Catholic as I wanna be, I mean I’m not giving up traditional Catholic practices because some people associate them with unhealthy aspects of the church. We can study the saints in our homeschool, we can learn to pray the rosary, we can go to confession — and we can participate in Centering Prayer and walk a labyrinth. Our tradition is so rich, and I’m blessed as an adult convert that I can approach it without the negative connotations some lifelong older Catholics feel.

3. At the same time, I tire of the phrase “Cafeteria Catholic.” I hear that and I hear, “I am the judge of all things Catholic; differ from me at your peril.” It’s not clear to me why people even give energy to this kind of activity. Have they erased all occasions from sin in their own lives, taken care of all the hunger and homelessness in their own communities, and rooted out all instances of pride, greed, and sloth in their own hearts? What happened to that thing about not removing the mote from someone else’s eye before getting the log out of your own?

Is the Roman Catholic Church so weak that it cannot withstand a little disagreement — even what might look like “disobedience”? Is that how we parent — expect perfection and eager, instant cooperation or you’re out on your ear? When I started poking around the popular Catholic blogs, I was shocked and more than a little depressed by the snide attitude many self-proclaimed Orthodox Catholics (and I don’t mean neoTraditionalists) took towards fellow Catholics who, say, allowed altar girls, liked hymns by certain modern composers, had questions about whether Cardinal Ratzinger would be a good pope, etc. (FWIW, I think many of those who had questions have been pleasantly surprised — if not consistently pleased.)

It’s pretty clear that to those folks I’m a mere shadow of a Catholic. But hey, screw them, right? I’m Catholic As I Wanna Be. And to me, that means giving up on pretending to know the right answers. If the Buddhist-loving poet-priest Thomas Merton is not a True Catholic, I don’t know who is, and this is what he says:

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

– Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude”

Sunday Gospel — the judge and the widow

The Gospel of Luke, Chapter 18, verses 1-8

Jesus told his disciples a parable
about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary.
He said, “There was a judge in a certain town
who neither feared God nor respected any human being.
And a widow in that town used to come to him and say,
‘Render a just decision for me against my adversary.’
For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought,
‘While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being,
because this widow keeps bothering me
I shall deliver a just decision for her
lest she finally come and strike me.'”
The Lord said, “Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says.
Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones
who call out to him day and night?
Will he be slow to answer them?
I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily.
But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

I had tried to prepare this Sunday’s gospel with my children. I was not feeling inspired, but I have long ago given up the thought that my level of excitement is a good indicator of what’s really going on. Basically, I tried to extrapolate from the parable the idea that we should pray continually and not be afraid to make requests of God, because if the judge would finally yield to the widow, how much more would a just and loving God respond to our prayers.

This was awkward, at best, because going through my mind as we talked was the thought that I was passing on problem of “magical thinking”: we pray, and if we pray enough or in the right way, God gives us a pony, just like a big, magical Santa Claus. It’s no surprise that children who grow up with this idea of prayer reject God later, when it turns out that God is not a big, magical Santa Claus.

Today’s homily during Mass made things much clearer. The parable does tell us something about God and our relationship to God. It’s just that the judge is plainly not the god-figure. The widow is the god-figure, who persists in the face of human hard-heartedness, injustice, uncaring, and faithlessness. We are not usually in the place of the widow, pleading to a capricious judge; we are too often the judge who ignores the need for justice or the basic demands of discipleship, like acting kindly towards those closest to us, let alone those we don’t know.

This made such sense I felt embarrassed about our earlier discussion of the Gospel passage. I felt a little stuck in that childish idea of a God who grants wishes, and I felt relieved by being reminded that in Jesus God calls us to participate as “priest, prophet, and king” in the kingdom of heaven rather than begging for the scraps from the table.

The question “will the Son of Man find faith on earth” is then not a question about whether we’re begging God frequently enough to take our side against an adversary, but whether we are persistent in our work as Church.

Published in: on October 21, 2007 at 12:21 pm  Leave a Comment