7 Quick Takes: Lent-o-matic Reading List

This time next week, we’ll be all penitential, right? In anticipation, I’ve slidden my Lent Links to the top of the page in the sidebar. As you find more Lent-o-rama goodness around the internet, please let me know and I will add your links to the list.

Meanwhile, I present to you 10,000 offline reading choices for your Lenten edification, most of which I’ve reviewed or mentioned previously, and loved enough to remember even now.

–> If you’re sick of hearing me go on and on about these same great books over and over and over, might I suggest you offer it up? (It is Friday, a day of penance even in ordinary time, ya know.) Or click the post-it notes and find something new to read.

For everyone else, here’s my list:

1. Pure Lenten Fiction Poke-n-the-soul:

The Gargoyle Code. I love this book. Readable, fun, insightful. It is designed to be read an episode a day through Lent, but that would take more Lenten discipline than I could ever muster. Every time Fr. L. asks people about this or that new idea of his, I tell him, “Write more fiction.” One day either he’ll cave and give us more, or maybe just ban me from his combox.

–> To see a few samples of the genre — not from the book, but written as bonus material, check out the Slubgrip Instructs Series on Patheos. Suitable for teens and adults.

2. If you only buy one devotional, this is the one:

For G-rated daily Lenten reflections that will kick your sorry slothful rear, you can’t go wrong with my friend Sarah’s booklet Welcome Risen Jesus. It is like its author – cute out on the outside, farm-woman practical realism on the inside. Good for elementary-age and up, independently readable from about 3rd grade. Very inexpensive, probably the best Lenten value going this year. My original review is here, and you can see my slightly less self-centered Amazon review here.

3. Sex, Money, and Everything Else:

Who am I? What are my priorities? How do I make my actions match my values? You don’t think of it as a “Lenten”, but the Theology of the Body for Teens series will get your head on straight. Strong PG-13 warning. If your brain has been warped by the wider culture, this is the antidote. Not just for teens.

If you struggle with money problems, this book will not teach you how to budget, choose good investments, or pay off your house and credit card debt in ten easy steps. It will teach you how to put money into it’s proper place spiritually — how to live your vocation fully, and not let money get in the way of becoming the person God wants you to be.

–> If you don’t struggle with money, this the perfect book, because it uses the example of something you do understand (cash!), to help you then see how to address the vices and stumbling blocks that plague you in other areas of your life.

My original review of Why Enough is Never Enough is right here. I say the same thing only in more detail.

4. Proof that some people can watch TV without rotting their brains:

We’re not supposed to be gloomy when we fast and pray, right? Good spiritual reading, not how you’d expect it. Highly recommended. My Amazon review of Happy Catholic is here.

5. If you have a crush on Ronald Knox:

Msgr. Knox is who you read after you’ve sailed your way through Chesterton and CS Lewis, and are still hungry for more. He’s readable, and hilarious, but listen if you don’t say the same think about Lewis and GKC, forget it. If you are new to these authors, you can see a ton of GK Chesterton for free at the Christian Classics Etheral Library. [You do not need to love Chesterton’s longer fiction. Skip that. Skip skip skip.]

I can vouch for The Hidden Stream because I’ve read it and loved it. Currently in my reading pile is A Retreat for Lay People, which promises to be more of the same, but I’ve only just cracked the book. Also in my personal backlog is A Biblical Walk Through the Mass by Edward Sri, which comes very well-recommended but I can’t make any promises yet.

6. Because you aren’t dumb, and you don’t need big words to prove it:

I suspect Eric Sammons is smarter than almost anybody. But his book is written for normal people, and to prove it I tested my copy on the parish secretary, my ten-year-old, and the owner of my local Catholic bookstore. Who fell in love and next thing she knew it was the book club book for her shop, again attended by regular Catholics who just want to know more about God. Interesting, readable, well-written, can’t-go-wrong Lenten pick. It won’t feel penitential, it will help you grow closer to Christ. Great book. My original review of Who is Jesus Christ? is here.

7. Pure Popery Goodness for Everybody.

For normal people, I am told the book you want is Come Meet Jesus by Amy Welborn.

If you run to the geeky end of the spectrum, here are my reviews of The Apostles, Illustrated Edition and of The Fathers, either of which would make good Lenten reading if you are the right type.

For about seven people I know, The Doctors of the Church, which I’ve almost finished, would be just the thing. But don’t even think about touching Doctors until you are 100% at home with The Catechism of the Catholic Church, and have a firm grasp on the broad outline of Church history and the lives of the more well-known saints.

Normal people wanting a decent, approachable Catechism, don’t let the goofy name fool you, The Youcat is a great book.

***

That’s my list. What did I miss?

3.5 Time Outs: Feminine Genius

Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, without whom Tuesdays would be so . . . different.

3.5 Time Outs Tuesday — Not everyone's a girl-blogger. Click the photo to find out what the guys are saying.

I don’t see an official announcement yet, so I won’t spill the beans on the details, but I’ve been instructed to spend the next month or two pondering the word women. I can’t decide if I was the intentional choice for that one, or just lucky. There are so many seriously-girlesque-with-hearts-on-top ladies out there in the Catholic blogosphere, and here I am, feeling pretty fashionable when I’ve got on a new black t-shirt and jeans instead of an old black t-shirt and jeans. Then again, I am not the only Catholic homeschooling mom at my parish who played rugby in college.

But anyway, it’s got me thinking about that word. Okay I’m familiar with the biological details, but what, exactly, is it that makes girls different enough to get their own apostolic letter?

Ladies, will somebody please tell Larry the secret code for getting all those cute little post-it-notes above his frog? Dorian? Hallie? Fulwilinator? Anyone? Anyone? Please? He’ll never even own half of Tuesday, if that frog keeps hiding away his linkfest inside the frog cave. Maybe someone should check with Mrs. D. to confirm he’s in good standing and can be admitted to auxiliary membership.

UPDATE: Larry says you get what you pay for. Not his fault he’d rather spend his cash on the worthy Mrs. D. Masculine genius, right there. I’m with it.

Internet Valentines:

At CWG, Karina Fabian applies the bacon analogy to the new non-compromise. If you like her post, she asks you to please share it around.

Also hidden in the CWG Monday line-up (yes, I am personally responsible for the post pile-on, go ahead, flog me), Ellen Gable Hrkach tells you the cold hard truth about the work required to succeed at self-publishing. Now you know what it is traditional publishers have been doing all these years.

And super-bonus: Today we have an actual Valentine-themed post. Ordinarily Kathryn writes on third Tuesdays, but I bumped her up a week when I saw what she had planned.

I think the similarity of color-schemes between the CWG blog and the Vatican website is coincidental. Only Ann Lewis knows for sure. Has anyone noticed whether she’s got the Vatican-spy secret decoder ring?

If you know someone who takes that last question seriously, you need a dose of masculine genius:

Perfect valentine for your budding junior apologist. Nothing like a good argument with a lunatic to really make an adolescent boy enjoy religion.

Free girl-book, today only: My friend’s mom Christine Bush has her kindle romance Cowboy Boots on sale today for Valentine’s Day. Free download. I haven’t read it yet, but thought it was worth a look at that price.

From my inbox: The Catholic Company is offering 14% off all orders today only, use coupon code LOVE14 during checkout. Timely if you owe your godchildren across-country some good Lenten reading. I imagine there are other discounts to be had today, feel free to share your info in the combox.

3.5

Sursum Corda? I saw it on a Confederate battle flag. SC’s 7th Batallion. The full motto is Sursum Corda – Quid Non Pro Patria? on a field of blue with a cross made of stars in the center. It was made by the Ursuline nuns in Columbia. Very cool detail: metal sequins on the stars.

If you go [no visit to the Inferno is complete without a quick stroll right past the inner door to the State Museum and on to the end of the hall where the good exhibits hide], call ahead and arrange a tour with the curator for education, Joe Long. He isn’t Catholic, but ask him to tell you his St. Anthony story. It’s a classic.

Dehydrated Water - SC Confederate Relic Room — The only kind of water that ever, ever, touches the single malt my Valentine sent me.

Love and Priestly Ministry at the End of Life

On the way home from the funeral vigil, my seven-year-old told me, “This weekend I’m going to give up donuts and playground for Father Fix.” For the repose of his soul.

It had been her idea to attend the wake. Had she had her way, we would have gone to “all the funeral things,” as she put it, even to the point of calculating whether we could beat the hearse to New Jersey for the burial. (No, darling, we are not driving to New Jersey for the burial. If I’m going to drive that distance, we will go to Florida to see your great-grandmother.) She saw all the funeral flowers at the church and tried to figure out where, at eight at night, we could quick go out and buy some flowers of our own to put on that altar in Father’s honor.

She had loved that man.

And I didn’t even know she knew him.

Father Fix was the retired pastor of our parish, retired before ever we joined the parish when my daughter was a baby. He lived in a nearby nursing home, and on Sunday mornings a pair of parishioners would bring him to Mass.

He’d sit up by the front pews in his clericals, and receive Holy Communion right after the priest and deacon, and then during the communion procession, about half the congregation would pat his shoulder or shake his hand as they passed him on their way back to their own seats. During donuts after mass people who knew him would sit with him, and one time I thanked him for donating the (stunning) remnants of his library to the parish. He told me he was glad someone was reading his books. I am not smart enough to read most of his books, but I can admire them.

On Sunday morning before he died, I remember seeing him at mass and thinking, “He will not be with us much longer.” And how sorry we would be at that loss.

Wednesday when I learned he had died, I wasn’t sure whether to attend his funeral services. I had barely known him, I thought. There were so many others who had known him for decades, who remembered him as their pastor and friend. I didn’t want to crowd the church, stealing precious seat space from people who had known him so much of their lives.

But my daughter? She had known him since forever.

He was one of her priests. By her reckoning, he was more reliably present than any other priest to grace our parish. The way she counted it, Father Fix sitting in his nursing-home-issue wheelchair, shaking hands and whispering good wishes to all who wanted his blessing, he was doing as great a work as anything else that happened at mass.

He was doing a work that even a toddler can understand. Long before she could tell you about transubstantiation, or make sense of the Gospel, or figure out that the homily was something that might be meant for her little ears, she could understand the ministry of Father Fix. When I told her he had died, she said to me, “He was always so nice to everybody.”

How could you not love a man who had been kind to you at mass every week of your life?

So we went to the funeral vigil. We signed the guest register, and took extra prayer cards to bring home to the siblings, and sat in a wedge-corner pew perfect for two. She studied the picture of Father Fix on one side of the memorial card, and was delighted when I flipped it over to show her the image on the other side – the Sacred Heart of Jesus. After the eulogy, she directed me to get in line to visit the casket.

When it was her turn, she knelt before Father’s body and prayed.

He was decked out in the gold vestments he’d requested – a request she had learned of on her class’s church tour that week. Her teacher had told them about the liturgical colors, and explained why we wouldn’t be seeing gold again for a while, until new ones could be obtained.

After my daughter prayed, we looked through the the scrapbooks on the table in the narthex. Pictures, newspaper articles, all documenting that other life he had lived.

People will say of someone who suffers great infirmity at the end of life, “He is not the man we once knew.” I felt that betrayal in reverse: Looking through pictures of earlier honors and busy parish events, the man my daughter and I had known was not there. Where was the peaceful, quiet man who loved everybody?

Oh sure, a parish needs a pastor. Somebody’s got to confer sacraments and manage the building fund, and on an ordinary day I’d agree those are essentials of the priestly vocation. Through the sacrament of holy orders, the Holy Spirit confers a grace and a distinctive mark upon a man, setting him aside for these works.

It was not my idea that she make a sacrifice on Father’s behalf. It was her idea, born of her love for her priest, unbidden by anyone.

What is a priest for?

He proclaims the Gospel. In a particular way, through the sacraments, he brings God to us and us to God. The Holy Spirit works through a priest, to share the life of Christ with each of us.

For seven years my daughter was in-between sacraments. A lifetime.

And during those long seven years, God who is Love Himself put a particular priest in our pews. “What is your name?” Moses had asked of God. The answer wasn’t, “I am He who does.” It was: I am.

In those pews was a little girl who didn’t need a doing-priest. She needed a being-priest.

Father put himself at the service of the Lord. His life’s mission was to share the love of Christ in whatever way God required. And he did.

Freedom of Religion: The Right to be Wrong.

Several years ago a friend shared a frustration about her job as a public school teacher: She felt that in the faculty lounge she had to pretend to be pro-life, lest she lose her job. She worked in a conservative school district, and the other staff leaned to evangelical Christian (she did not). She felt persecuted, and she didn’t think it was right. I agreed.

Not because I was myself on the fence concerning abortion — I had always opposed it. But because it seemed to me that if you are a government employee, you shouldn’t lose your job for agreeing with the laws of the government you serve.

[I should clarify here: She was not complaining that she couldn’t share her views with students — she had no desire or intention of doing that; given her subject and the ages of her students, abortion was not ever going to be discussed in the classroom in any way. What she feared was that merely holding the beliefs that she did would cost her job.]

In studying history there comes an ugly moment when you suddenly understand how hopelessly immersed you are in your own culture. Future people will wonder why you did not have more courage to stand for what you knew was right. They will also wonder why you did not see how terribly wrong you were about principles that, to a later generation, seem entirely clear. But the pull of your own time and place is too powerful.

That is how I feel about the law.

Product of late 20th-century USA, having grown up on patriotic songs and the Pledge of Allegiance and trips to Williamsburg and copies of the Constitution handed out at the bank in 1987 to commemorate the bicentennial . . . I’ve got this obsession with the Bill of Rights. I am too late-century to believe it has been flawlessly administered, but I can’t shake the idea that it ought to be.

And enshrined in the 1st Amendment is the right to be wrong. We call it freedom of religion.

Even though Congress is not supposed to make laws prohibiting the free exercise of religion, of course it does. If your faith prescribes polygamy or ritual human sacrifice, no-can-do for you. Morality informs the law, and no amount of arguing that your religion required you to embezzle that money will get you out of jail. The majority will legislate the boundaries within which you may practice your beliefs. The majority of course, being composed of people who are sometimes wrong.

(Example: Slavery. Big mistake that one. No slaves were emancipated by arguing in Confederate court, “My religion tells me I shouldn’t have to be a slave.” But religious arguments — initially regarded as crazy fringe nutcase arguments — did eventually persuade the Union government to emancipate. No comment on the timing.)

And then there’s the taxes. We don’t get a discount for deciding we object to the nuclear weapons program or the latest foreign war. I suppose you shut your eyes and pretend your particular contribution is all going to food stamps, and someone else’s cash covers the objectionable stuff. Either that or you buy in to the whole “Whose face is on that coin?” thing.

[More limits on free exercise: We can’t even get out of the draft selectively — either you’re 100% pacifist, or you sign on for all wars at all times — no concept of just warfare as a religious principle to be actively lived by able-bodied men of military age.]

So what’s the big deal with the reproductive-services-funding mandate? Critics of the Church observe that the law is only asking for employers to pay for services that Americans overwhelmingly want, and that the medical industry considers perfectly good healthcare. You’ve got to be some kind of crazy fringe nutcase to object to wholesome American goodness like Sterilization and Apple Pie. (Correction: There might be a case for raising insurance rates on the people who eat the pie.)

And the answer is this: We grew up in late-20th America. We know freedom of religion isn’t perfectly administered, but we still believe in it. We practice it with compromises, but we do try to practice. Jews who actually keep kosher are not therefore excused from paying all their taxes, just because Federal cafeterias serve those scary puffed-up Not Hebrew National hot dogs. But we don’t therefore say the government has the power to require all employers everywhere pay for pork barbecue.

–> It would be understandable if some Jewish people found it objectionable to purchase a dozen bacon cheeseburgers for the guys at the sales meeting , even if there were other Jewish people who had no such reservations. We’d get it. We’d think that mandatory pork-purchasing — and being fined for failing to offer pork as a choice at the company cafeteria — was a stupid law.

We don’t think Chick-Fil-A should be required by law to be open on Sundays, even though other Christian businesses operate on those days. Likewise B&H Photo has a constitutional right not to process sales from Friday sundown till Saturday sundown. Even if there are employees who want to work during those times (and who need the hours!), or customers who wish to patronize the company during that time. We have a right to eat on Sundays, but the government doesn’t mandate that all grocery stores and restaurants be open on those dates.

The trouble with the contraception-sterilization mandate is that our government has decided these items are more like clean water or public safety, and further, our government has decided that every private employer in the United States is now the public agency tasked with delivering these goods.

The majority of Americans do not believe contraception and sterilization are immoral. They find the Catholic church is wrong wrong wrong on this matter. That is fine. But proper response is then, “Well, this is America. You have a right to be wrong.”

From the view of the majority, the next question is: “What will happen if we let these crazy fringe minority of people be excused from directly purchasing items they find objectionable?”

Our government says the answer is this:

Not directly purchasing your employees contraceptives would be like just giving them cash and saying, “Go buy your own bacon if it’s that important to you.”

And that would be wrong. Because there are limits on the freedom of religion. Your religion is known for not approving of certain products, but everyone else in America loves that product. Look, a lot of the people at your own house of worship are discretely eating the bacon, and usually the Rabbi doesn’t say much about it . . . you’re a threat to order and morality.

You must not just give your employees the cash. You must set up an account for unlimited purchases at Bacon Is Us. Or be fined. If you don’t like the stuff, don’t eat it.

Note that this is not about money. It would be entirely reasonable for the HHS to require that conscientious objectors simply pay their employees the necessary amount of cash to cover the cost of these services. That’s Living Wage 101, which the Catholic Church has been trying to explain since before ever the HHS saw light of day.

Employees could then purchase however much ~~bacon~~ contraception and sterilization coverage they wanted. Exact same amount of employer outlay. Exact same amount of contraception dispensed and reproductive powers eliminated. Only, it would respect the right of American citizens to practice their own religion.

7 Quick Takes: PSA’s

Many thanks to our hostess Hallie Lord, who is not taking attendance while Jen Fulwiler is on writing-leave, so hopefully I won’t be demoted for participating late.

Funnix is running the free-download program again. I don’t see the deadline, but I’m going to guess it is only during February. (They did this last year. Thank you kind phonics people. Also thank you to my internet acquaintance Cynthia for pointing me and other moms to the link.) I have no particularly opinion on the program other than that some people like it and, look! free!

I’ve entered this new special time in my life as an internet person, when I receive not just spam, but Catholic Spam. It’s sorta weird. But here’s the unsettling part: Sometimes I really cannot tell if I’ve gotten a Catholic-Spam Troll Form Letter, or if there’s a human who knows me (if only via a blog) and is trying to communicate useful information, but has accidentally written an e-mail that has the look-n-feel of Spamalot.

So anyway, the PSA is this: If you are a real live person who wanted to share a link or tell me about your great works, and the first time you e-mailed me it got lost in cyberspace and you never ever heard anything . . . just e-mail me again? Okay? With some extra words this time that maybe tell me how you know me (this blog, or the CWG, or you’re a friend of my friend’s cousin’s uncle-in-law, or whatever) and anything else that would help establish yourself as a sentient creature who knows my name.

Thanks!

What kind of dog is this?

A stray dog. Possibly a lucky dog. Well, lucky whether he ends up here or moves to the local no-kill, where I’m sure he’ll find a home because he is both cute and nice. If energetic. My facebook friends are voting Jack Russell, with maybe some Fox Terrier or Bull Terrier. Any other votes?

A few months ago I subscribed to the Jimmy Akin Secret Info Club. Yes, yes, of course it exists to help the man sell books. He writes good books. And no, the information is not truly secret . . . in the sense that comes from sources that people treat as classified documents but actually you are allowed to read them, such as the Bible, or the Catechism, or the writings of the Church fathers.

But hey, it’s a handy little newsletter. About once a month I get a short e-mail that is a refresher on some topic related to the faith — for example this month’s was on private vs. public revelation. Nothing earth-shattering, but sort of a continuing-ed workshop delivered straight your inbox. Worth checking out.

It’s that time again. Allie Hathaway. Pray.

If you like to write, go register for the Catholic Writers Conference Online. No, really. Even if you aren’t Catholic*. It is free, open to the public, and you can participate as much or as little as you like. Which means if you discover you hate it or you’d rather be learning something else that week, nothing lost. Because remember, free?

Registration closes . . . I’m not sure when. I thought March 1, but I don’t see the date, so I can’t be 100% sure. But look if you obey your local blogger and just sign up right now, it won’t matter when registration closes.

So what’s the catch?

You would be, in your own small way, cooperating with the mission of the Catholic Writers Guild. Which is to fill the world with more better writers.

*It is like attending any Catholic school, you have to be polite and not say mean things in class. But whereas the specific mission of the CWG is to promote Catholic writing and publishing, the online conference includes topics of interest to any writer. If you read here, you totally have what it takes to attend the online conference and enjoy it.

The Catholic Faith – Serve that shot neat, please.

Gun season opens Wednesday night at religious ed. It’s time to study the Sacrament of Confession, which means another exciting of round of the game I do love, Is it a Mortal Sin? I say things like, “If you commit a mortal sin, you need to go to Confession,” and “Here are the three conditions for a sin to be mortal.” Then I say something really outrageous, like, “Do you have any questions?”

This is the students’ cue to inquire about the pizza guy who got mugged, and what if a Nazi comes to your door*, and what do you do if you think the bad guy is going to shoot your best friend but you aren’t 100% sure . . . all that stuff.

Last year was surprisingly quiet on the shooting scenarios, though I did get asked if a person who murders his spouse is free to re-marry? (No.) But here’s what I love about teaching fifth graders: They want to know the answers. I’ve had more than one student ask if it were a sin for a soldier to shoot the enemy during combat — fully ready to accept that if that were the case (no), they’d need to put away the plastic Army men and think hard about how to break the news to friends and family.

The other fun part of 10,000 Gun Questions Night is keeping it strictly Catholic. I often hear a double complaint about the Church:

How can we possibly have a firm teaching on anything?
And if so, why don’t we have a firm teaching on everything?

As if it were somehow more logical to worship a god who gave out brains and then refused to let you use them. [Catholic moral theology tip: If God gives you something, He’s got a plan for how it’s supposed to be used. Thy body is not a knick knack.] The challenge with the 5th grade questions is that within the guidelines of just warfare and legitimate self-defense, Catholics are free to hold any number of opinions on what makes a good gun law, or whether those soldiers ought to be over there doing that.

***

I enjoy teaching as precisely as I can. To be as aware of the limits and definitions of Catholic doctrine as I am able, and therefore hopefully pass on a view of the faith that veers neither right nor left.

In the short run, I avoid undermining the student’s family, and I like that. If your mom has chained herself to the gate of a nuclear weapons facility, or your dad is president of Kids Need More Guns Inc., those are positions a Catholic of good will could hold and still be faithful to the teachings of the Church. At any age, students deserve to learn the faith without having it mixed up with personal opinion; in fifth grade it is particularly important to stay in the middle of the narrow road.

–> At ten and eleven, kids aren’t ready to form their own opinions on open questions. They do delight in wearing the opinions of the people they love. Politics is best left to parents. (It is bad enough I’ve got to break the news about divorce and remarriage, and also about how, yes, you really do need to come to Mass every week.) It makes for a better course if I acknowledge there is more than one legitimate opinion, and leave my own opinions home.

In the longer run, teaching plain old Catholicism gives students a firmer grounding in their faith. As they grow older and are wondering if Mom should have chosen a different sort of peaceful resistance, or maybe Dad carried it a tad too far in his love of the Bill of Rights, they have already been told that the Catholic faith is not the whole crazy package of everything every Catholic they ever loved might have said. They’ve already been told: You can disagree about _________________ and still be Catholic.

Teens and adults need to be able to sort through the world of ideas; the Faith has to stand up to testing, and it will. But to do that effectively, you have to know where the faith ends and opinion begins.

*Actually Nazis threaten the hypothetical doors of internet grown-ups much more than they disturb 5th graders. 10-year-olds tend to stick to situations being reported in the local news. But sometimes, yes, the Nazis make their appearance.

Curmudgeon Gets Comeuppance, Enjoys Cute-Jesus Book

Here’s my weird day:

1) Dropped kids off at Grandma’s house.

2) Stopped in at local Catholic bookstore to say hello to owner, give update on catechist booklet progress, pretend I was there to buy books.

2a) Of course I knew I’d find books to buy, so I wasn’t dissembling.

3) My friend Sarah Reinhard’s lenten booklet, Welcome Risen Jesus, was smack in the center of the Books-for-Lent display. Yay for Sarah!

4) Well it isn’t expensive, and my DRE will like it, so I pick up a copy.

5) I read it.

See, here’s the situation. Look at this cover:

Do you not see the problem? I’ll give you a second to observe.

Cute-Jesus.

I am a curmudgeon. I’ve been grumpy and old at least since the age of reason, and I expect much, much earlier than that. My favorite people in the world are 80-something and crotchety. [They keep dying. I have to make new friends pretty often. Luckily other people get promoted. There seems to be something magic about the big 8-0 that really brings out the critical thinking skills in a new way. It gets even better at 90, but not everyone makes it that far. The world can only bear so much common sense, I guess.]

My favorite weather is foggy. Silent. Nobody around. My religious art runs to icons and creepy gothic statuary. This is a book cover: Gargoyles.

I don’t do Cute-Jesus.

Happy? Okay sure. Friendly? Yes. I like people. Even cute people. Jesus loves cute people as much as He loves anyone else. But I would not see Cute-Jesus and think, “Look at that cover! There’s a book I need to read.”

And that’s awkward, because it turns out? It’s a book I need to read.

I should not have been surprised by this. I know Sarah R. Yes, she is undeniably cuter and perkier than me. But she’s on the mark. Head on straight, clear-thinking, no-holds-barred normal Catholic lady. Of course she’d write a great book. And if it takes Cute-Jesus to get her message into the hands of people who need it, bless those Liguori artists who make it happen.

I have commissioned my children to make a Curmudgeon-Approved stamp to put on the front of these types of things, to assist any of my readers who might have been likewise thrown off by the artwork. In the meantime, here’s what you need to know:

There’s a meditation for each day of Lent and the octave of Easter. Practical, no-nonsense Catholic spirituality.
Each day comes with a different suggested prayer, personal sacrifice, and act of charity.
I’d say it’s best suited to maybe ages 5-and-up.

The suggested sacrifices are very Thérèse. Don’t complain one day. Drink only water one day. Sleep without your pillow, and offer up your discomfort. I really really like the changing up of the sacrifices, because it gives some realistic focus for those of us who want to do everything, but actually we’d completely stink at even doing a couple things all Lent long.

It’s a Lent for normal people. I love it. I repent of ever thinking grumpy thoughts about cartoon-y Bible-story pictures.

Okay never mind I did not really repent I am not that holy. But seriously. Good book. 100% buy-recommend for readers who want some good solid achieveable Lenten goals, no saccharine, no goofiness, just reliable practical advice grounded in every thing that one particularly sensible parish priest you had* was trying to tell you all those years. You could cover it with some nice gargoyle stickers if that would help you.

UPDATE: The boy has applied the stamp of curmudgeon-approval:

*He’s 80 now. Or was for a while. Or looks younger but actually, yes, he’s fully grown-up on the inside, don’t let the smooth skin fool you.

Perfect Contrition

Last night I answered one last question about eternal salvation with a real quick “Yes.” Under my breath I promised my stricken sidekick, who no doubt cringed to see me treat the subject so briefly, “We’ll cover ‘perfect contrition’ next week.”

We needed to keep moving with the class. “Yes” was an accurate answer; Perfect Contrition was the detailed version. We will cover it. I assure you. Do not think, dear junior theologian, that I would for a moment water down the faith. No way no how.

***

Very late at night, I remembered where it was I learned those words: Perfect Contrition.

I was 17, kind of Catholic, and way behind on sacraments. This beleaguered pair of faithful, practicing Catholics was tasked with the job of turning slackers like me into confirmandi. Fast. We met once a week in a small group, and they walked us through the most essential essentials of the Catholic faith. What do you do if you are bleeding to death by the side of the road and you are guilty of a mortal sin? Perfect Contrition. [If I recall correctly, they brought motorcycles into it somehow. Fit the audience. Totally.]

I can’t remember the name of the couple who taught me those words; I do remember their daughter was my friend (she went to a different school), and that she gave me a rosary for my confirmation, because I’d never had one and I’d told her how much I wanted one.

It eventually broke from excessive use, but that was later. Also, I went to college and left the Church.

***

The parable of the sower popped up this week. Several years ago my pastor helped me greatly (and presumably everyone else who heard his homily), by pointing out the gardening solution to the problem: Compost. If the soil isn’t so great, keep working on it.

There’s something else, though, that Perfect Contrition brought to mind: Weeds. And wanted plants that act just like ’em.

Have you ever completely given up on a plant . . . determined it was dead and gone, and never to be seen again . . . and then it pops up one summer when you’d given up all hope? That’s weediness. The ability of one lone seed to sit hidden in the ground for years, and then when the time is right, it shoots up and takes over.

That’s what those words, Perfect Contrition, were to me. That little good-weed seed.

***

Catechists, don’t lose heart when everything you say seems to get lost. When you watch a student who was once so eager to learn about God suddenly grow up and move out and completely walk away from the Catholic faith. It wasn’t that you did nothing. It wasn’t that all your work was a failure.

The human heart is not some tiny little square of the garden, stuck with its rocks and thorns. It is a vast and varied territory. What you teach becomes these tiny grains of faith that spread everywhere into your students’ souls. There’s good ground somewhere in that garden. Somewhere in a corner you didn’t even see, didn’t even realize your words had reached.

And twenty years later, your very words — words like Perfect Contrition — come sprouting out of a mouth you’d had every reason to assume was a lost cause. And they come out, and your long-ago student who can’t even remember your name, who might have once even said, “I didn’t learn anything in religious ed,” your student knows exactly where that seed came from, and who it was who cooperated with the grace of God to put it there.

***

Also, God knows. And He does not lose track. Not ever.

7 Quick Takes: Friends, Romans, Republicans

7 Quick Takes Post-It Notes — The other people are talking about things more interesting than politics. Click to go see.

I watched the debates last night. Seriously entertaining. Much more fun than any political debate I’ve seen in ages. Also, enlightening.

Here’s the thing: I live in a cave. I don’t enjoy TV the way other people do. So I had never, ever, seen any of the four candidates speak on TV. [I’d heard Santorum live once, but in a completely different context.] Now that I have seen them, many mysteries are solved.

For example: Newt Gingrich. As a child in metro-DC in the ’80’s, yes, we talked about politics in the backseat of the car as our parents shuffled us around the beltway to youth group activities. I remember then, that Newt was this creepy, untrustworthy politician guy.

[I also remember my dad being livid, livid, at the evisceration of Poindexter. Who until scandals broke I had known of only as ‘a dad of one of the one the boy scouts’. Apparently a super nice guy in regular life.]

So, Newt. When I heard he was running for president this year, my thoughts were:

He’s still alive?
I mean sure, Strom-Thurmond-Alive, of course. But Running-for-President-Alive? It was a stretch. I guess when you are a kid, people seem so much older than they turn out to be later.
He’s this shifty beltway insider named after ~~a reptile~~ an amphibian. What is the appeal?

My goodness that man is charming! CHARMING. Did you see him open that debate? He’s brilliant. Utterly untrustworthy, anyone who is that smooth. That loveable on stage. But now I get it.

In order of Charming:

Gingrich.

Romney.

Santorum.

Paul.

So if you get your politics from TV and not from print, yes, it all suddenly makes very much sense.

But you know what makes me angry? Back last century, everyone knew that torture was wrong. It was the stuff of satire. Now, suddenly, it is very difficult to find a candidate who opposes torture. You can expect to be treated as daft and unsophisticated if you insist your president be the non-torturing type.

People want charming. Kingly. From last Friday’s Mass reading:

⁶And the word was displeasing in the eyes of Samuel, that they should say: Give us a king, to judge us. And Samuel prayed to the Lord.

⁷And the Lord said to Samuel: Hearken to the voice of the people in all that they say to thee. For they have not rejected thee, but me, that I should not reign over them.

⁸According to all their works, they have done from the day that I brought them out of Egypt until this day: as they have forsaken me, and served strange gods, so do they also unto thee.

⁹Now therefore hearken to their voice: but yet testify to them, and foretell them the right of the king, that shall reign over them.

¹⁰Then Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people that had desired a king of him,

¹¹And said: This will be the right of the king, that shall reign over you: He will take your sons, and put them in his chariots, and will make them his horsemen, and his running footmen to run before his chariots,

¹²And he will appoint of them to be his tribunes, and centurions, and to plough his fields, and to reap his corn, and to make him arms and chariots.

¹³Your daughters also he will take to make him ointments, and to be his cooks, and bakers.

¹⁴And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your best oliveyards, and give them to his servants.

¹⁵Moreover he will take the tenth of your corn, and of the revenues of your vineyards, to give his eunuchs and servants.

¹⁶Your servants also and handmaids, and your goodliest young men, and your asses he will take away, and put them to his work.

¹⁷Your flocks also he will tithe, and you shall be his servants.

¹⁸And you shall cry out in that day from the face of the king, whom you have chosen to yourselves. and the Lord will not hear you in that day, because you desired unto yourselves a king.

We insist our president be “presidential”. Impressive. Someone the Europeans and the Iranians will respect. So that’s what we’ll get.

Allie Hathaway. You know what to do.

If you want regular normal-people election coverage of the SC Primaries, of course you would never read this blog. Instead you’d visit Brad Warthen. Whom I love the way my dad loved Poindexter, so just you be quiet (here*) if you don’t like his politics.

*Rant away at his place. He’ll love it. Plus my FIL arrives tonight, so if you post here for the first time and your post gets stuck in moderation, it is not because I hate you, nor because I fell into a bottomless chasm. I’m just busy seeing flesh-and-blood people this weekend. Also, voting. I’ll catch back up with the Internet come Monday or so.

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