And This Little Piggy Wore A Chapel Veil

I envy all the people who can leave anonymous comments on blogs, whereas I can't blog anonymously. I say this because today I just have to be me and speak my mind, and what I have to say isn't gonna make everyone happy.

A cursory glance of my still very tiny blog role brought me to Erin Manning's blog, with news that Jennifer Fulwiler of Conversion Diary is now wearing a chapel veil to mass. UPDATE: Erin wrote a SECOND post about the veiling thing!

LOUD GROAN

So loud you can hear it while reading this.

Chapel veil wars on the Catholic internet are as frequent and almost as hotly debated as the pants/skirts wars. If you've spent any amount of time reading Catholic blogs you already know this, and you already know that it's best to stand back, not participate, and instead enjoy the car wreck.

Supreme laziness: I agree with every single thing Erin Manning has said in her post about chapel veils. So go over there and read what she has to say. But in case you're too lazy yourself, here's my summary: If you want to wear a chapel veil, great, go for it, enjoy yourself. Wearing a chapel veil is part of Catholic tradition that is well-known, and Catholicism is thankfully wide and broad enough to incorporate all kinds of things. There's a lady at my church who always wears a chapel veil and I'm totally fine with it; she's a nice lady and a serious Catholic. My good friend wears a chapel veil whenever she goes to the Latin mass, which is often enough, and I don't have an issue with it.

If you feel God has called you to to wear a chapel veil, I'm fine with that too, and I'll honor your belief. However, I will question why God hasn't instead called you to take the $18 you spent on that chapel veil and instead contribute it to your local crisis pregnancy center or something similar. But I know, how God calls one and not another is none of my business.

With all of that being said, I'd like to add that Jennifer Fulwiler is a great person with a blog that I routinely read and have at times benefited from. I take her to be a sincere person who seems very nice. I really do mean that and would appreciate it if people wouldn't question me on that. So if Jennifer wants to experiment with wearing chapel veils and/or permanently incorporate them as part of her Catholic life, I accept that. I didn't read her blog post explaining it all and don't feel I need to - her reasons and feelings about the subject are hers alone.

So why the big groan from me?

Because legions of Catholic women lap up everything she says, and many many times, they do it in a very unthinking manner.

Remember in my recent post about "Cutsey Catolicism," I observed this about certain kinds of Catholic women:

"Those who followed my first blog know that I was highly critical of  the now defunct "Faith & Family Live" blog for exactly the sort of spirit and experience that I'm questioning here. I'm serious, if I had mentioned in a commbox over there that I was making and marketing a Catholic laundry detergent - basically Tide in a bottle but with a label that said something like "St. Ann's Suds" -  they would have fallen all over themselves to buy it and promote it and talk about how wonderful it was that they could now buy laundry detergent from a good Catholic."

I believe the exact same thing about Jennifer Fulwiler going public about wearing a chapel veil - Catholic women falling over themselves to mimic and copy her, and now a great big fad for wearing chapel veils erupts (as if there wasn't already a sort-of fad going because of the supposed resurgence of the Latin mass). As I commented over on Erin's blog, "Score one for Father Z!" Come to think of it, maybe Father Z put her up to this! Ha!

Here I go again with my broad brush: There's just a certain kind of crowd that follows Jennifer Fulwiler (and I've noted many, many times that it includes a boat-load of Protestants, which I still don't understand.) There's a certain kind of crowd that follows me. There's a certain kind of Catholic that follows whoever's behind Whispers in the Loggia. While we all intersect on the "Catholic" part, there ARE differences. Some people read The New Yorker, some people read People Magazine.

The crowd that follows Jennifer Fulwiler is the kind of crowd that looks to her as an example, a guide or mentor of sorts. I mean, look at the names of the people/blogs who post their links after her weekly "7 Quick Takes" meme and one can quickly surmise her target audience. And she DOES has a target audience - otherwise she wouldn't be doing an online TV reality show and have a soon-to-be published book. In fact, I would go so far as to say Jennifer Fulwiler has literally become a Catholic PRODUCT that we now consume like any other media product we consume.

I have, myself, been through the phase where I took my cues from the Catholic internet as to what did or did not construe an acceptable Catholic life, practice, and existence. I learned the hard way, even if I was suspicious and questioning all along. Let's just say other people are much more trusting than I was, and those people are trusting Jennifer to lead them through the wilderness of how to make sense of modern conservative Catholicism.

I'm just not so sure that wearing a chapel veil is a necessary aspect of modern-day conservative Catholicism. In fact, somewhere a rad-trad is laughing about her doing this, claiming her wearing a chapel veil is like a pig with lipstick in a pew at a Latin mass. There's a point where maybe us neo-cons need to just owe up to being neo-cons (a term I despise), since it's pretty neo-con-ish for someone who gives radio interviews to EWTN and Relevant Radio to be wearing a chapel veil. I say this as someone who has no problem with EWTN and Relevant Radio, which is why the extremists call me a neo-con, instead of someone who goes to mass at an FSSP parish.

But hey, if that's what these women want, have at it. As long as they operate in Christian love and charity, and they're towing the Catholic party line, I'm not supposed to care. Right?

Right. As far as I'm concerned, Jennifer Fulwiler's Catholic testimony is fine and well without an extra scrap of lace.

Another Sucky Lent (So Far)

Lent annoys me, it always has.

My knee-jerk reaction to anything "must" is to avoid it and not comply. That's my own personal problem, it's related to pride and obedience, I get that.

So anyway, this year, having a much better grip on my Catholic faith, I started out thinking that I would do the minimum requirements just as a sign of obedience, hoping something good would come of it, which will then lead me to further ideas of how to take up my own cross.

On Ash Wednesday, I woke up all committed to fasting as prescribed by the Church, as well as getting off sugar and grain. I admit the sugar and grain thing is a health initiative, not something I'm doing to get closer to Christ, but figured it was just as well to begin on that day and commit it to God.

Problem one is that I never consciously committed it to God.

Problem two is that combining fasting on the same day as going cold turkey on carbs was a really bad idea from a purely physical perspective.

Did you read this amazing blog entry by Elizabeth Esther about how she recognized that she needed to stop punishing herself on Ash Wednesday? If you haven't, please do, because it's just honestly refreshing. I can relate to what she wrote because here's how Ash Wednesday started to shape up at our house, around 7:00 p.m.:

Husband: Meekly inquiring about what's for dinner

Me: There's a bag of parmesan-crusted tilapia in the freezer, you can make that if you want.

Me: Starving, crabby, feeling like I'm going to lose it if I don't eat real food.

Husband: Does that mean you don't want any? What are you going to eat?

Me: (Starting to lose it) I'm not supposed to eat that tilapia because it has breading made out of wheat. That's why I didn't get Fish McBites at McDonald's when I took Alan there for lunch.

Husband: What are you going to eat?

Me: (Screaming) I don't know!!! I f*cking HATE fish!!!!! I f*cking, f*cking, f*cking hate fish!!!! (Actually, I don't hate fish. I just dislike most of it. I need it to be expensive and fancy for me to truly appreciate it.)

Husband: (Looking like a deer in the headlights) Maybe you should just eat something.

Me: Yeah, I think I will. Screw this Ash Wednesday stuff. (I ate a bunch of food, I don't remember what. I'm sure it included meat.)

So, let's jump over to this past week, when our family took advantage of a "Spring Break" at Alan's school to go to a waterpark overnight, Thursday to Friday.

Me: This is going to be impossible to stay low-carb while visiting a cess pool of pizza, french fries, and frozen margaritas.

Husband: Stay strong, we'll do whatever it takes to get you the food you need.

Thursday lunch: Bought a container of tuna salad and brought it into the waterpark. Celebrate! Tuna salad and water slides! Woo-hoo.

Thursday dinner: Big-ass prime rib and vegetables. Score!

Friday morning: Free breakfast buffet included with waterpark package. Eggs, eggs, and more eggs, along with bacon, sausages, and ham.

Friday lunch: Cool! Waterpark has pre-packaged containers of cheese, sausage, and olives! Someone is thinking outside the box here. I got a low-carb friendly lunch!

Me: (Friday afternoon while eating cheese and sausage) F*ck!!!! It's Friday!!!!

LENT FAIL.

Have you ever done something like this? Or this:

On Sunday we were in a food market and stumbled across a whole, live lobster dinner for $13.95. I was like, HELL-O it's lobster time! As I sat at a metal counter eating my fresh, delicious lobster, I told my husband this was my replacement meat-free meal to make up for the previous week's meat transgressions. Truth be told, I've done this way more times that I care to admit. You know, you're invited to a family get-together or party on a Friday in Lent, and all that's being served is meat, so you eat the meat and then say tomorrow for dinner I'll have fish to even it all out.

But this where it all stands so far. I've given up nothing for Lent in the traditional sense. (Or have I? Let me know your thoughts on that.) I'm supposed to go on a silent retreat next weekend, but I'm not sure that's really when it's supposed to happen, and I haven't made the phone call to confirm it.

Furthermore, the thought of doing Stations of the Cross depresses me. Like I said previously on the blog, if we get to one session of the Stations, I'll be thinking I won a prize or something.

Also, I haven't taken anything on, which is my usual train of thought. You know, extra masses, extra confession, extra readings, extra something. Not inspired to do anything, and yet, feeling really guilty about all of it.

And when I feel guilt, I know things aren't going well.

I do keep turning certain things around in my head that I could do for Lent, so as not to make it a total loss. But then I find an excuse to not want to do it. Then I get upset about how lazy I am and get mired in the wallowing about how much I suck as a human being. About how I'm only giving God the tiniest of crumbs.

When I get myself really going, I turn the blame back at the Church, believing this is all a prescribed set-up. I mean, people can do things like extra prayer and fasting, etc., any time of the year they want and get results, right? Why does there HAVE to be this big to-do the same time of each year?

Other times, I tell myself this is all symptomatic of my ongoing refusal to believe that God really loves me, thereby proving that I need to do whatever it takes to grasp and hold God's love. And if that means eating meat, well, then so be it.

I know I'm writing this blog post because I don't want to write another blog post titled "Continued Sucky Lent." So, along those lines, do you ever experience similar battles during Lent? What do you do to get yourself out of the funk? And how do you deal with guilt? 

Now THAT Is a Church!

Yesterday we woke up and decided to road trip it to Chicago because I was stir crazy. This happens quite a bit with our family, as I am an adventurer, free spirit, and can't stand boredom.

We made this decision at about 9:30 a.m., so I decided that we would find an evening mass in Chicago. Which we did, via Mass Times.

Weren't sure of what we'd get, nor what kind of neighborhood we'd end up in, but we were mostly concerned with getting to mass, period.

Here's what we got:

  

What church is this? St. Michael's in the Old Town (Lincoln Park) area of Chicago. 

Now, I'm sure people reading this have seen more spectacular Catholic churches than this....and everyone is going to have different opinions about what makes a church noteworthy. For example, while the outside of Notre Dame in Paris is stunning (I've been there twice), I believe the inside to be a big yawn (notwithstanding the really cool burials in there.)

But for us, my husband and I both agreed this church rates in our top three. In our limited experience, the only place we've seen that tops this is the new cathedral in St. Louis, Missouri.

And by the way, to all the people who think St. John Cantius in Chicago is so beautiful? It is. But this place kicks its butt.

When we walked in, it took our breath away. (And sorry for the bad photos, my phone camera isn't great.) Of course, like most things, you kinda have to be there to see it for yourself.

But here's what's interesting: Our five year old son, who normally can't wait for mass to end, was taken in the entire mass with the spectacular surroundings, constantly interrupting to ask us questions. His predominant question was about the huge statue of St. Michael the Archangel that looms over the altar, with a really creepy figure of Satan being crushed under his feet (the pictures don't show this well or at all.) In response, he whispered to us that he said the prayer to St. Michael twice. 

And then he said to us that he wished he could go to mass everyday! 

OK, we all know that was a momentary thing and that he'll be whining about not wanting to go next weekend. But there was something about a place so grand, so spectacular, so filled with imagery and things to ponder, that even a small child grasped that there was something bigger than himself.

Later on, while we were driving back home to Milwaukee, I did note to John than there are people who would legitimately feel overwhelmed with such ornateness. I believe that if we explored some of the reasoning behind the post-Vatican II church architecture, such overwhelming church decor was likely a piece of the pie. 

But as is so often the case, this is all cyclical. My generation and a couple below me are intrigued and thrilled with this kind of art and richness. In future generations, there will probably be a pull towards simplicity again. At least that's how I see it.

Incidentally, we could immediately detect from the liturgy and church bulletin that St. Michael's is a parish on the liberal side of things. A previous incarnation of me could have blogged here a complete list of everything wrong that I saw there, but I'm trying to not do that anymore unless it's really heinous. Besides, God played a trick on me! The priest gave a sermon that made my husband and I raise an eyebrow or two. (Not gonna say why, but trust me.) So when we left and shook hands with the priest and told him we were visiting, guess what we discovered? He's the main priest writer from one of my most beloved and helpful publications: Scrupulous Anonymous. Just goes to prove that one can't guess how God works through people in different ways and at different times for different reasons.

What are the most beautiful Catholic churches you've been to? Here in the Milwaukee area, we have the magnificent Basilica of St. Josaphat (probably near the top of our list), as well as the Basilica of Holy Hill, which (in my opinion) is much more impressive for its outdoor setting than what's inside. There's also a church in downtown Milwaukee - Old St. Mary's - that is beautiful in a sort of standard, ordinary way.

Something Smells Fishy

Talk about conspiracy theories and the Pope's resignation?

While discussing/enlightening a good Catholic friend as to what some of the Traditionalist Catholics have been saying about the matter, we sat in front of the Fisheaters forum reading various discussion threads.

Un-freaking-believable.

That's all I have to say.

Un-freaking-believable.

Actually, on some level, I sympathize a bit with what they are saying. But the sympathy runs out when they can't connect the letters A to B, instead connecting the letter A to Q or something. Things like, "Good thing I can defect to the SSPX in case they elect some modernist pope. I can stay there until a better pope comes along."

Sedevacantism is a religion alive and well.

A Liturgically Correct Valentine For You

 

Now, how did I come up with this, you ask? It was all innocent, I swear! It was sent to me last year by a very Baptist friend who knows nothing of chapel veils or Traditional Catholicism. 

Yup, it's vintage!

Feel free to pass it around to your favorite trad. Seriously! If I were a Traditional Catholic, I'd love this! 

I was tempted to ask readers to write a fitting sentiment to go with this card, you know, roses are red, violets are blue......but that might turn out to be hysterically funny and that would be a no-no. Or would it? (Erin Manning seems to be on a role lately, with her song about Traditional Catholics set to "American Pie." I'm sure she could come with something here, too.)

Well anyway, Happy Valentine's Day!

Facebook Is the New Chocolate

Or at least that's what one would surmise based upon how many people I've seen check out of Facebook for Lent.

My question is, do they give up Facebook so that they can continue to indulge in their chocolate and sugar?

Actually, I'm cool with it, unless it's just the easiest, simplest no-brainer thing to give up. That's what I wonder about.

One or two of the people getting off of Facebook for Lent, I think they totally needed to. But my lesson of the last three or so years is that if you completely refrain from politics or religion, Facebook is almost brain-deadly benign.

Anyway, I haven't yet figured out what to do about Lent. For the last two years, I haven't done anything and didn't follow any fasting rules, etc., since I was really angry about the Church. Oh, I'd plan some fish frys or non-meat meals for the sake of my husband, but that was my limit.

Before that, my view was that I needed to "take on" rather than "give up." For example, one year I recall making a promise to go to at least one additional mass per week, as well as going to confession at least twice during Lent. I still tend towards the "take on" philosophy. This year, more rosary might be the ticket.

Today, I am making an attempt to fast. I didn't even give it any thought, I just did it. Made a loaf of bread for John and I to eat for breakfast and lunch, and I'll deal with a non-meat dinner later today, when I cross that bridge. I'm also going to get to mass at noon. Believe me, after the last couple of years, this is a big deal for me, even if it sounds minimalist to others.

So anyway, on some level I could use a little inspiration for Lent, but when people put up Facebook posts and blog posts giving you "suggested" or "recommended" lists of things you could do for Lent, I usually shy away. It always comes off as, "I'm so put together, learn from me!" I know, I shouldn't see it that way, but I do.

I noticed a few women on a local forum are giving up restaurants for Lent. That would be really hard for me, I admit. I have to think about that a bit, especially since I'm sitting in a Starbucks as I write this. Ha! My husband would LOVE it if we gave up restaurants for Lent, since it would mean I made a commitment to curb laziness and apathy about making dinner and save us some money.

So anyway, I know there are loads of people who ABHOR people talking about what they give up for Lent publicly. I could care less. So, hey, what are your Lent plans?

Are Catholic Funerals Still Denied?

Last night, my husband and I had tickets to see a one-woman performance re-enacting Edith Piaf's life. We really enjoyed it, me especially, since I am a sucker for melodramatic lounge music.

One interesting fact about Piaf's life, which came to light as part of the performance, was that she was denied a Catholic funeral. This triggered a memory that the French author, Colette, was also denied a Catholic funeral. The stated basis for these two decisions was, in summary, that both these artists had led sinful, scandalous lives.

This got me thinking about whether or not, in more modern times (post-Vatican II), if Catholic funerals are ever still denied? Note that Colette died in the 1950's and Piaf in the early 1960's.

My husband and I were talking about this and we both came to the conclusion that such a decision is the ultimate in hope-less-ness. Also the ultimate in judgementalism. We couldn't fathom, no matter how strict a take one might have on public sin, as to why such extreme measures would be necessary for baptised Catholics? It's a truth of the faith that God knows everything and is the ultimate judge, is it not? So what harm would there be in having a funeral for an open sinner, since God's in control anyway?

Besides, at the time of Colette and Piaf- and taking into account more traditionalist France - their Catholic funerals would likely have been the all-black, somber affairs that marked pre-Vatican II times. Thus, their funerals probably wouldn't have painted a picture of assured salvation for either woman.

Perhaps some reading this blog post know personal stories of denied funerals of older relatives? If so, I'd be interested in hearing them.