And What Kind Of People Are Those Exactly?

 I am snarky today. You have been warned.

Ever since I registered as a member at my local parish, I noticed an increase in flyers from other faith communities in my mail. My personal favorite came in the mail today. Again.

It's a very sharp-looking, very shiny, card for some church and it reads "A Church for People Who Aren't Church People." What the heck does that mean??? I honestly read it about 4 times trying to figure it out. A Church for people who don't like to get up on Sunday mornings, act reverently and adhere to religion?  A Church for people who like Christ, but not Christianity? I guess I am at a loss to figure out what kind of people these would be. As I see it, why go to church if you have no interest in church? A look at the website says that one of the core values for this faith community (I won't call it a church, I wouldn't want to drive away all those non-church people from going), is flexibility, meaning (and I quote) "adjusting our methods along the way."

As a Catholic, this kind of talk sends me into a panic.

And I still can't figure out what kind of people these are!? Last I checked, Church for Non-Church People was shopping, or football. Or... sex. To be honest, this kind tactic screams "Neo-Progressive-Social-Justice-Cum By Ya- Hand-Holding- Christianity" to me. Which, if I were not a church person is precisely the kind of church I would avoid. I would just join Amnesty International. I hear Bono likes them.

Rules for Rules Sake

So today at work, as I was simultaneously (accidentally) breaking my penance that I said I would do in order to be able to eat meat tonight, I was eating a cinnamon gummy heart and dreamily posited "do you think gelatin counts against my meat abstinence on Fridays?" My former Catholic and MS Lutheran (best friends with a Catholic nun) co-workers said that no, it did not. I googled it. It doesn't.
But it got me thinking about rules and following them just for the sake of following a rule. The meat abstinence is was actually revised in the 1970s to say that it had to be some for of penance rather than just not eating meat (except during Lent-- then you can not eat meat on Fridays). I am guessing this had to do with cultural changes that increased numbers of vegetarians as well as people who ate less meat for health reasons. It then became an idea that you could not eat meat on Fridays, or do some other form of penance. Many Catholics continue to abstain from meat, as it was easy to remember and most didn't do it anyway.
The thing about this rule-- like most things in Catholicism-- is that it's all about intent. Doing the penance is supposed to make us think, but what if you're following the rule and not thinking? We're supposed to remember the Passion and Good Friday and also be participating in redemptive suffering, but can we do that when we're just not eating meat because we're "not supposed to?" For example, down south, they have these huge fish fries and everyone gets together and eats fish and hangs out on Friday evenings. Not much of a penance, is it? My grandmother tends to opt for a ham sandwich and a can of soup on those nights. She is sacrificing her fun night out. Up here, The Hubbs and I could easily opt out and have a lobster dinner, but that is not sacrificing anything-- it's a bit lavish and decadent in the name of sacrifice. I actually find that I tend to focus more on what I am supposed to when I mess up on my abstinence or feel like it's not worthy penance.
So the question is, do you follow a rule just to follow it? Or is it more important to embody the spirit of the rule and not the letter? I think some people would argue that following the rule is important, but I think in this case, I will take the Lutherian position that the spirit of the rule is what matters. What's the use of doing something if you don't know why you're doing it, or it's not doing anything for you spiritually? If you can use the rule to bring about a positive change, then how does it matter if you're eating meat or not?
This is a rule I really try to follow, but I really try not to be scrupulous about it. I also know why I'm doing it, so I feel like there is wiggle room. But I really think this is something that can only be absolved through better catechesis all around.

Nun-sense

I read recently that, despite what the media (secular or Protestant) might lead you to believe, there is actually a boom in vocations. That is, more and more young people are becoming part of religious orders.
I have done some thinking about this, and I think I know why: our generation needs the stability. So many of us were raised without any real religion, but rather a cafeteria spirituality that told us to be good people according to our own definitions of "good." We were made to grow up quickly, but coddled so badly to where it rendered us almost unable to grow up at all. We were told that we were the most important things in the world, and that if we got bad grades, it's because the teacher wasn't teaching to our personal learning style-- nevermind that she had 24 other students to teach as well. We were products of divorce, of single moms and dads who worked so hard to make our lives comfortable. No wonder some of us grew up, got put on anti-depressants at the first sign of adversity, blamed society at large for all of our problems and then got religion. I think some of us are just comforted by the rules and rigidity that comes with it. Catholicism, at least.
In my family (my great-grandmother's side), I had 3 great-great aunts who were nuns, a great-great uncle who was a brother, and one that was a monsignor. That's a lot of vocations for one family (even though there were 17 kids). When I was a kid, I used to want to be a nun. A lot of this stemmed from movies-- Julie Andrews was a nun, after all. But as I got older, before I shunned all ideas of God and anything that resembled Him, it was something I really thought about. It wasn't a calling, per se, but as a kid it's hard to ignore. I'm married now, obviously, so this is not an option, but I often think of those aunts of mine and think how happy their lives must have been. Modern women, women of my generation (and I would count myself as one of them in some ways) say "women should want more than that for themselves." But my great aunts had college degrees in the mid 1920's-- something very few women had back then. And some orders of nuns now are called to serve their communities through social work and teaching. But what's more, they have time to pursue the things that make them happy: learning and reading and prayer and teaching and travel. Many of them are theologians who research and write. They're academics who don't need grants!
I think our modern sensibilities are scandalized by the idea of nuns. They are so unlike the "modern woman" and yet, I think they are, in some ways, the most feminist women out there. They don't wear makeup, or worry about their hair or clothes or their weight. They can't be materialistic, and they don't worry about men! They live according to their own wills, with educations (most require you to have a BA before you can profess) and assuredness in their life choice. They don't do what society tells them to do and they aren't the woman society tells them to be. And isn't that the true definition of feminist?

Rosary Madness!

Here is the second rosary The Hubbs and I made. This one is for a friend of mine who is not technically Catholic, but I think she might be more Catholic than at least a few people who attend Church at my Parish. I chose red because it looks like her, and also it is the symbolic color of the Holy Spirit. I got her a little pamphlet on how to pray the rosary, but I am looking forward to teaching her as well. Enjoy!

We May Imitate What It Contains, and Obtain What it Promises

I love rosaries. My grandmother taught me how to pray the rosary one summer shortly after my uncle died in 1992. She was serious about the rosary, and still is. It's something that she gave me besides her smile and impeccable fashion sense. I have actually started to collect rosaries because I love them so much. I like old ones, with interesting beads, the kind that look like they might be worn down from years of thoughtful prayers throughout a person's life: for a good husband, a better job, enough money to buy a decent car, to help their loved ones get better, to have a healthy pregnancy, for the repose of the souls of family members who have died,  for comfort in their last days. A person's entire life could be prayed out on a rosary.
The rosary is a Marian devotion, a meditation on the mysteries of the life of Christ. I find it helps me think about Jesus and his Mother, it comforts me, and it never fails to put me to sleep. But the rosary is powerful, too. Mary has never failed to answer the prayers I have placed as intentions for a rosary, and if those answers are slow in coming, she has always given me patience and peace in the meantime.
Recently, I thought it might be fun and interesting to make rosaries. There are so many beautiful crucifixes, center medals and beads to put to together and so many saints to make chaplets for. As I have mentioned before, I am notoriously un-crafty. I have many, many creative and crafty ideas, but no real talent for their execution. So when Hubbs gave me a rosary making kit for Christmas, I was a bit nervous. Turns out, I need his help (I can't get the loops to be equal-sized) and he needs mine (he can't get the chain onto the beads), so it's a team effort. We finished it tonight, and I am hoping to make many, many more!