Forgive and Forget

I have a colleague at work making it nearly impossible to be a Christian.  She really has it out for me for numerous reasons, primarily because I abide by the teachings of the Church (and she has made it clear to me that this is problematic for her).  But she has begun to slander my name, and today I had a complete meltdown and then was filled with anger.  I trust that I have done nothing wrong to her and that she is picking on me as she is very aggressive, but I'm having so much trouble forgiving her time and time again.  I know I will forgive her, but I don't know how to forget.  Where does the forgetting come in? Is that just a contemporary phrase or did Jesus say to forget??? 

Thanks for your prayers.   

On the Feast of St. Scholastica

Today is the feast day of a great female saint, St. Scholastica, who is the twin sister of St. Benedict, the founder of the Benedictine rule. She lived near her brother who was in Monte Cassino, Italy. They met only once a year, and there is a famous story of their last meeting:

Scholastica having passed the day as usual in singing psalms and pious discourse, they sat down in the evening to take their refection. After it was over, Scholastica, perhaps foreknowing it would be their last interview in this world, or at least desirous of some further spiritual improvement, was very urgent with her brother to delay his return till the next day, that they might entertain themselves till morning upon the happiness of the other life. St. Benedict, unwilling to transgress his rule, told her he could not pass a night out of his monastery, so desired her not to insist upon such a breach of monastic discipline. Scholastica finding him resolved on going home, laying her hands joined upon the table, and her head upon them, with many tears, begged of Almighty God to interpose in her behalf. Her prayer was scarce ended when there happened such a storm of rain, thunder, and lightning, that neither St. Benedict nor any of his companions could set a foot out of doors. He complained to his sister, saying, "God forgive you, sister; what have you done?" She answered, "I asked you a favour, and you refused it me; I asked it of Almighty God, and he has granted it me."

She died in 543 and is known as an intercessor for nuns, children, and bad weather.

Quote of the Day

First came bright Spirits, not the Spirits of men, who danced and scattered flowers--soundlessly falling, lightly drifting flowers, though by the standards of the ghost-world each petal would have weighed a hundred-weight and their fall would have been like the crashing of boulders. Then, on the left and right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one hand, and girls upon the other. If I could remember their singing and write down the notes, no man who read that score would ever grow sick or old. Between them went musicians: and after these a lady in whose honour all this was being done.

I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she was naked, then it must have been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the happy grass. If she were clothed, then the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her innermost spirit shone through her clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise: the spiritual body lives along each thread and turns them into living organs. A robe or a crown is there as much one of the wearer's features as a lip or an eye.

But I have forgotten. And only partly do I remember the unbearable beauty of her face.

‘Is it?... is it?’ I whispered to my guide.

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘It’s someone ye’ll never have heard of. Her name on Earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.’

‘She seems to be... well, a person of particular importance?’

‘Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.’

‘And who are these gigantic people… look! They’re like emeralds.. who are dancing and throwing flowers before her?’

‘Haven’t ye read your Milton? A thousand liveried angels lackey her.’

‘And who are all these young men and women on each side?’

‘They are her sons and daughters.’

‘She must have had a very large family, Sir.’

‘Every young man or boy that met her became her son – even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.’

‘Isn’t that a bit hard on their own parents?’

‘No. There are those that steal other people’s children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives.’

--C.S.Lewis, The Great Divorce

Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of ...Winter?

The female brain. Mine goes about two miles a minute, and it's powered by guilt. Does anyone else suffer from this complex? I was out with two friends last night for dinner and a movie, and all I kept thinking about was the long checklist in my head of things that I need to get accomplished for work and at my apartment this weekend. My head was SPINNING. I hate the fact that I can hardly ever be present with people, or with myself. I dreaded waking up today because of the amount of things that I need to do, and the fact that I have to squeeze them in between two other weekend outings.

Whoah, Julian!

You have been blessed with THREE opportunities to see friends this weekend and to kick back and take your mind off of work.

(Back to the first person...) I don't know why this happens everyday. Why do I spend my life rushing around from one task to the next? Why is down time so hard for me? Why do I feel so guilty when I haven't accomplished each task with 100% effort behind it?

No wonder I'm having a spiritual dry spell these days. I can't even slow myself down to enjoy friends without guilt, let alone to sit and say hello to God. I could use suggestions for creating some white noise in my head and in my heart...

St. Agatha

Since today is the feast of St. Agatha, my patron, I thought I'd share with you all a little bit about her life, and about why I picked her as my patron on this blog. It's a little difficult for me--I picked her for very intangible reasons--but what is this blog for if not for soul searching and sharing?

Agatha--the names is Greek for "Virtuous" or "Good"--is one of the great Virgin Martyrs, and shortly after her death there arose a great cult honoring her saintliness and virtue. As the Catholic Encyclopedia notes, there is no turly verified account of here death, but the story goes that:

Agatha, daughter of a distinguished family and remarkable for her beauty of person, was persecuted by the Senator Quintianus with avowals of love. As his proposals were resolutely spurned by the pious Christian virgin, he committed her to the charge of an evil woman, whose seductive arts, however, were baffled by Agatha's unswerving firmness in the Christian faith. Quintianus then had her subjected to various cruel tortures. Especially inhuman seemed his order to have her breasts cut off, a detail which furnished to the Christian medieval iconography the peculiar characteristic of Agatha. But the holy virgin was consoled by a vision of St. Peter, who miraculously healed her.

Eventually, after repeated torture and assault, she died.

I first heard the story of St. Agatha as almost a joke--in iconography she is almost always represented with a plate on which stand her breasts. In the Medival church they were often misinterpreted--and she became the patroness of Bell Ringers. In Sicily they celebrate their great saint with little minni di Sant'Aita, which are breast shapped cupcakes. (Some think this incredibly vulgar. I think it's awesome...and weird...anyway, they've been doing it for a long time.)

Anyway, in Christ's resurrected body, the wounds were glorified, right? So why not celebrate her own wounds of martyrdom. As a matter of fact, as soon as I stopped laughing, this is what made me love her most. Because in living the life of a Virgin, one needs to give up everything for Christ. In the office of readings for today, St. Methodius of Sicily says:

A true virgin, she wore the glow of pure conscience and the crimson of the Lamb’s blood for her cosmetics. Again and again she meditated on the death of her eager lover. For her, Christ’s death was recent, his blood was still moist. Her robe is the mark of her faithful witness to Christ. It bears the indelible marks of his crimson blood and the shining threads of her eloquence. She offers to all who come after her these treasures of her eloquent confession.

If one is called to the single life--which, if not forever, I certainly am called to right now--then I must be dedicated to Christ body and soul. So the single girl must practice modesty of dress and manners for the sake of Christ.

Still, I am a woman, and modesty does not mean denying those things that make me a woman. At my alma mater there were a group of girls planning to enter the religious life, and so they dressed in long skirts and sweatshirts--covering up everything so that they would be "modest". This seemed to me to follow the letter of the law, and not the spirit--for they looked like slobs, were inattentive to their femininity, and had no outward grace. Yet, the Carmelites who lived, cloistered, up the street from me were the most feminine and graceful (and beautiful! and ageless!) women I had ever met.

Agatha, it seems to me, represents this struggle so well. In giving herself entirely to Christ, she lost some of those bodily signs of her womanhood (and motherhood!), in a glorious and heroic way. Thank goodness we are not all called to endure torture, but we will all suffer for and struggle with our femininity, and in that, we can all find a patron in St. Agatha.

St. Agatha is also the patron of those who has suffered from sexual assult, those who have breast cancer, single lay-women, wet-nurses, torture victims, and (I don't know why) against earthquakes, fire, and volcanic eruptions.

Secular Sex

I need help! 

My self-declared atheist student, a fine young woman who just got into MIT early decision, has started to confide in me and come after school to argue philosophical and religious points back and forth - the confiding and bantering I equally enjoy.  She has recently come and confided that she is worried that our generation is using sex to express the fact that they are profoundly lonely and that they feel it's the only way to experience intimacy.  She says that some of her friends (which may in fact be her) think that they want to have sex just to say that they aren't a virgin before going to college, some of them admittedly don't want to feel anything and are numb from depression, and others just want to see how it is with someone they like or wouldn't mind giving it a go with.  She is concerned, and wants advice.  She also asked me to help her craft a non-religious argument as to why premarital sex is "bad," or at least harmful for the parties involved.  Now, in our sexual ethics course we have covered this head to toe with psychological statistics, philosophical reflections, and science to back up the Church's claims that the best sex takes place in the safe and intimate context of marriage.  But this doesn't seem to be enough for her.  Can you please help me (by tomorrow afternoon), formulate a strong argument for her?  She desperately wants to know.  And please pray for her.  She is too smart not to be a follower of Christ...she has the intellectual capacity to be a doctor of the Church, but she is still resisting grace.  She is so special; I just love her.  Okay, thanks! 

Response to V-Day

Thanks for the great subject matter, Edith.  A few years ago my alma mater banned the V. Monologues from being performed onstage, although the work was still permitted to be read in class, so as not to jeopardize academic freedom (even at a Catholic institution), which I respected.  We were one of the first colleges in the country to do so, and I'm proud to have been there when the decision was made.  Of course it was controversial, and many women genuinely argued that silencing their performance would only contribute to the neglect of the horrible abuse that so many of God's daughters endure.  

If only it were a play that truly did justice to presenting the reverence and awe of womanhood which should be protected and safeguard in its carefully crafted and delicately constructed physical structure by God.  I understand the concept (at least in a postmodern world of literature and philosophy that we live in) of focusing on the physicality of the woman and locating the center in the place in which violation dreadfully occurs but when the vagina is speaking FOR the woman, then all of Edith's concerns ring true.  

Violence against women might be better prevented by cultivating wonder of our mind and body's gifts and all that we bring to the table.  I'm not sure if the Monologues are actually accomplishing this when the most intimate part of the female body, which is something so special around which we should remain reticent, is exposed in front of an audience.  It seems so counter-intuitive.  

Let's pray for all of the victims of domestic violence and sexual abuse, especially some of our friends and family.  

The Good Mass

So much to say! There have been so many good posts lately, and it's just my luck that I haven't had time to do anything but work for the last two weeks. I especially want to respond at length to Julian's post about Motherhood and the Single Life.

But for now, a humbling note. Yesterday started out wonderfully. I got a lot of things done, felt refreshed and ready for the week. I was still stressed about a few things, notably about my friend Helen (not her real name of course), who is dealing with divorce and faith crises, and about my job situation (both that I have too much work, and that I hate it!) As the afternoon wore on, I was in a bit of an emotional state, and finally I got to mass only to be greeted by...

THE CHA-CHA.

Seriously. The Hymn of the Prayer of St. Francis was done to a Cha-cha beat, and I nearly wanted to scream. From there on the mass was up and down. Or should I say, my engagement with it. The Gloria, even though it is one of my least favorite settings, was jubilant and stirring. The Mass Readings were powerful, and the sermon was good, if a bit rambling. But then there were the ad-libbed additions to the Mass, and the almost flippant recitation of blessings and prayers.

I was fuming by the time I left, and took it out on poor Julian. I said I was sorry before, but I really mean it now, dear! Why? When I got back home there was a text message from Helen. "Have a good mass. As if mass could be anything else."

Mea Culpa.

On 'V-Day'

With the feast of St. Valentine just around the corner, I thought I'd write a little bit about something I find insidious -- it's called 'V-Day.' If you're a woman, you've undoubtedly heard of it. It's the day that raises awareness for violence against women. Or at least, supposedly. They raise awareness by showing the insidious play 'The Vagina Monologues' on every college campus. Ugh. What a horrible play. What I find even more offensive is this. They straight up attack the Catholic Church on their site. They claim that the Catholic objection to the play is based upon misinformation and that they will refute such misinformation with 'facts' or in their terms 'reality.' Here's a little snippet:

MISINFORMATION: CNS [which by the way stands for 'Catholic News Service'] describes "The Vagina Monologues" as a "vulgar play", "complete with a favorable reminiscence about a lesbian seduction of a 16-year-old girl" and "explicit discussions of sexuality and sexual encounters including lesbian activity and masturbation."

REALITY: The monologue referred to reflects the real-life experience of a real woman who was interviewed by Eve Ensler. The monologue accurately reports the woman's experience.

The pieces in "The Vagina Monologues" are all reflections of real women's experiences. Some of the stories are not politically correct, but they are all real. It is important to allow all of the voices of women to be heard, regardless of how we personally feel about their experiences, as violence against women happens everywhere affecting one in three women worldwide.

"The Vagina Monologues" has been successful as a play in part because it inspires reflection and thought among audience members, and dialogue among people who have seen the play. The Vagina Monologues has proven vastly liberating because it gives voice to experiences and feelings not previously exposed in public, and reflects how shame and self-deprecating thoughts of women’s bodies has kept women separate from power and pleasure. The overwhelming response to the play was mobilized by grassroots organizations who recognize how negative attitudes towards women’s bodies contribute to violence perpetrated against women by men and by themselves.

Violence against women happens everywhere affecting one in three women worldwide. V-Day envisions a world where women live safely and freely. Each year V-Day continues to grow and inspire women and men throughout the world to help create V-World, a place where women and girls are free from violence. V-Day will continue this mission until the violence stops.

The site claims that the Catholics (particularly the Catholic universities who protest the play as a matter of conscience) are wrong about the play. They critique what they call 'misinformation.' Their response being the 'reality' does not refute the claim here, but only says that the play is base on 'fact.' Ok -- so why does that make it good?? Isn't the critique given here just a re-iteration of the 'facts' portrayed in the play? What kind of message is this play sending out about an authentic feminine sexuality?

Now I am SO against violence toward women. But to show a play that clearly objectifies women by reducing them to their anatomical part? Does that solve violence or promote it? I say 'part' because the title of the play clearly reveals which 'part' is to be associated with femininity. If we want to stop violence toward women, why reduce them to this? Why fixate on sex? Is that the only way women are violated? And how does the play inspire reflection?

And what about abortion? That is absent from the V-Day agenda. Is that shocking to any of you? Isn't abortion one of the most atrocious acts of violence toward women?? What can we do to raise awareness? Will we let organizations like V-Day speak for us?

Can't live with 'em...

Can somebody please help me?  I don't understand men.  (This is going to be the first of many posts on my inability to comprehend the other sex).  

You go to a party or to a bar, engage in conversation with one guy, catch somebody else's eye across the room.  You're feeling pretty good about yourself, you know you look pretty attractive (it's okay to admit it ladies), and then...nothing.  No questions about what you're doing later that weekend, or if you'd like to talk again. 

You go to a Mass packed to the brim with young, attractive adults (sans wedding rings, if you're like me who notices those things in the middle of the Creed - so shameful, I know).  You make eye contact every few hymns, and then....the guy bolts out of Mass as soon as the first stanza of the recessional is through.  Or maybe you think you have a chance because he stays until the very last verse...and then he's off!  

What is the deal, people?!?! I'm not the most self-confident broad in the business, but I can admit to myself when there might be a little electricity...even just the tiniest spark of interest.  Why is it that there is no follow-up?  No introduction or follow-through?  I know I'm old-fashioned, but even when I overcome this hang up and introduce myself to a guy, I always seem to be disappointed when there is no follow-up.  Is it me?  Is it him?  Even the non-Mass goers who are good guys...why don't they seem to have their acts together? 

And why is it that when I go to a party or a bar and there is a guy that is either 1) unattractive or 2) a total creeper and they find themselves impelled to corner me and talk my ear off the whole time...ask for my number...and rudely ask to come up to my apartment??? 

Does anyone have advice? 

Can anyone sympathize? 

 

To Ugg or not to Ugg

Thoughs on Ugg boots (probably knock offs)? I have been very anti-Ugg for awhile, but now my feet are cold, and I'm starting to warm up to the idea (pun not intended, but I haven't had a sufficient amount of coffee).

Thank you (sincerely) Mr. President

I don't really mind whatever motivated him, but our new President just denied Nancy Pelosi's wish. *Sigh of relief.*

We almost became Communist China.

I don't want a stimulus package

How does she possibly consider herself both a Catholic and a woman?  I want to pray for her, but right now I'm so offended that she reduces life to economic value.  Besides children, what does this say about the handicapped, the infirm, and the pre-born?  What does it say about me? 

Are you my mother?

A quick post during a free at school:

This weekend I was fortunate to have several outings to attend in which I met some of the most interesting, single young men and women in my area. As a relatively introverted person (though I can come across as extroverted), I did a lot of people-watching as well as conversing. The most natural thing to ask at this stage when meeting a young professional is, "Well, what do you do?" It was so reassuring that other people my age were out in the world, wholly committing themselves to some really meaningful occupation or another, always at the service of something larger than their own gain.

I was particularly thinking about the single women whom I was engaging.  Now, only I would really be thinking about this at a party, but I was wondering how if it is true that the "crowning" of our femininity lies in motherhood, how are each of us fulfilling the feminine genius that JPII talks about?  How is a young, single professional possibly considered a mother?  

The only answer that came to me was that no matter if we are wives, mothers, single, infertile, widows, etc., we are all inherently spiritual mothers...spiritually maternal.  All of our efforts are directed at some good, and since no man is an island, everything we do affects someone else...we are always nuturing through our work.  Now, it might be a bit more obvious to someone like me who is a teacher to have "children," but they need not be right in front of you or younger than you for you to be nurturing them.  You might never know them.  They might be older than you are, or they might live across the world.  But since we are all sons and daughters of God, we are always and everywhere serving God's children.  How very maternal of us.  

Snapshot

Standing on the steps of the Supreme Court, looking up at the blindingly white courthouse, shining in the sun. The police officers stood at attention about 10 feet from the barrier, overlooking the crowd. They were stonyfaced, except for one, who smiled, and seemed glad we were all there.

To my left was the stage, with women telling their surprisingly mundane stories about the abortions they now regret. (The pro-abortion advocates scare us with back-alleys and poverty, but the reality is that most of these women are middle-class suburbanites: college students whose boyfriends pressured them, teenagers whose parents drove them to the abortionists.) To my right, a handful of counter-protestors, all engaged in heated, but civil debate with the pro-lifers.

Emotionally, I was completely detached, and saw little that moved me. I tried to concentrate on my rosary, and take comfort in the repeating words, solace in the words, and the mysteries of Christ's passion and death. But I was mostly just distracted, saying the words out of habit rather than love.

As I was standing there several women, young and old, even a nun, came forward and dropped a rose on the steps of the Supreme Court. A young photographer clicked away, trying to get the perfect angle, with a detached desire of photojournalistic realism. As he walked away two girls, about 16 years old, came forward, and dropped the roses, and one burst into tears, sobbing, as the other held her close rocking back and forth like a mother comforting a child.

I don't know why she cried, but I sure wish I could have joined her sorrow.

Two steps back

Maybe I was too charitable in my last post toward Mr. President.  I'm not sure why in this economic climate that Obama thinks it's a good idea to put our taxes dollars towards funding abortions abroad.  

I HAVE to believe that a man with so much intelligence will come around to see what he is permitting.  I have to believe.  

One Step at a Time

The March for Life was jam-packed this year.  I think the numbers (if anyone prints a story about it), will be greater than those from other years.  It took hours just to begin to walk!  

I did have trouble with the very loud protestors, the graphic images (more than any that I've seen in the past), and terribly mean signs about Obama.  I always wonder what is on their hearts when they present the pro-life message like that.  No judgment passed here, but I do have to wonder...   

However, there were so many simple, powerful things that I witnessed. This was the first year that I went to the Youth Rally, where 30,000 young people gathered for music, prayer, and Mass with priests and bishops from all over our country.  The Mass was offered by the Archbishop of Washington, D.C., Donald Weurl.   The crowd reminded me on a small scale of the pontiff's visit last year, and there was even a bishop sent by Pope Benedict XVI who relayed messages to us (specifically the youth who were marching) on his behalf, just encouraging us to be "the saints of the third millennium," as his predecessor John Paul II said we could be. 

The number of young women...friends, sisters...peacefully walking arm in arm together witnessing their commitment to protecting their femininity and inspiring others to do the same...so very moving.  As always, the number of little tots and toddlers stumbling along or relaxing in their strollers warms my heart!  

I think the most powerful image that I saw today was the number of young men from high schools and colleges in the crowd...especially those from all-boys' schools.  It gave me such hope that there are so many men (well, GENTLEMEN) in a younger generation who respect women enough to come across the entire country to demonstrate their love for our capacity to give birth and the joy it brings to the mother and the child.  

Maybe men are from Mars and women are from Venus, but their convergence in the nation's capital today was amazing.  

A Response to 'A Little Bit of Hope'

Edith, of course you are right about the March coming up.  I'm going for a third time, and am looking forward to it (and hopefully snagging a spot behind the Dominicans who sing the Salve (the prayer for the dead) outside of the Supreme Court). I get very uncomfortable when people are yelling and screaming, going around putting pictures of aborted fetuses in the faces of those who are protesting the March.  I prefer to walk quietly, hoping and hoping and hoping that the witness of so many people (especially the little ones!) who are dedicated to preserving and protecting life during their own lives, will be inspiring...not only to those in our government, but to other fellow Americans.  No matter what our new President and our Congress have before them to vote on, we women really can peacefully demonstrate in our daily choices how to love in very simple ways.   

Before the inauguration, I was very disheartened about the election of Mr. Obama and his administration.  I'm still uncomfortable with him as our leader, but I want to show him my respect for giving it a go by running for the office to inspire Americans to be the best we can be at home and in our interaction with our global family.  I think he inspires people (not only because of his brilliant gift of rhetoric...to be used for good or ill we shall see...) but because our country is yearning; they really do need the virtue of hope in something, anything.  The seeming meaninglessness of 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina broke many of our spirits, and though we have picked ourselves up, it's only been a half-hearted effort.  I believe many who support Obama do so because the media has blown his capabilities out of proportion and made him an overnight sensation, but I believe others are just searching for meaning again.  St. Thomas Aquinas says we always seek the good, it's just a matter of where we find it and if it's truly fulfilling.  It is up to us to remind others that our meaning and our hope lies in something well beyond this immediate world.  It is up to us to remind them, as the priest said at Mass today, that "the glory of God is the human most fully alive." 

A Little Bit of Hope

I don't know about you, but I am probably the only American who is not excited about Inauguration day. It just seems so...contrived to me. Yes, it's a big historical moment -- the first African American president. But the Hollywood hype? The moment-by-moment newscasts with the most banal comments? Anyway, I've been feeling kind of just 'blah' about the whole thing. But, I have hope. Thursday is the March for Life, and I cannot think of any better way for pro-life Americans (and all Americans, really) to welcome this very much pro-abortion president to office. If Obama truly wants to live up to a man like Lincoln (to whom everyone is comparing him), let's show him that it is only by standing up for life that he can accomplish such a task. After all, isn't that what Lincoln did? And one more thing -- just meditate on this. It brought me some hope and perhaps it will bring some to you too.

Quote of the Day (Movie style)

Watched After the Thin Man this weekend, the second madcap adventure of the great sluething couple Nick and Nora Charles (played to perfection by William Powell and Myrna Loy). My goodnes, if I find someone I can exchange witty banter with like this, I'd marry him in two weeks!

Nick: Did I ever tell you you're the most fascinating woman this side of the Rockies?
Nora: Wait till you see me on the other side of the Rockies.