I'm writing this late at night when I really should be in bed, but I'll give it a shot.
I often get my news via CBC, either on the radio or online. After an annoying week in weather (you know, where our prairie spring somehow got replaced by hurricane season), I woke this morning to read that a beautiful, old church in the Capital City's core was hit by lightening, and one of the spires collapsed overnight.
Generally, I like to read the comments left online by various readers (and have been known to make a comment or two of my own), but it was with wry amusement that several commentators noted: "God must have been aiming for a Catholic Church, but missed."
After the fifth or sixth time I read that same comment from a different poster, I grunted. Enough, I thought, I get it. Don't make me admit that I agree with you!
Maybe us, as a Catholic collective, do deserve to be smoted by God for the things that have happened in recent decades. Things that have only really come to light in recent years. You know "the things" I'm talking about: Abuse scandals. Cover-ups. Lies. As an ever-faithful Catholic, I find it very difficult to reconcile what I believe the Church is and should be with what appears to have actually happened. That we allowed to happen.
Most priests out there are good ones. A few are not. And it really is truly only a few among the tens or hundred thousand or so priests in the world today. I hate hate hate hate hate that those few have cast so much doubt and judgment on the rest. I hate that I find myself questioning whether or not I can trust a priest. A bishop. The hierarchy.
I disagree with how this whole thing has been handled. I just want the Church to admit that it was wrong, it screwed up, pay the price so that everyone can move on. Instead we get this pussy-foot dancing happening. I believe in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, but there are times where one must accept a temporal punishment for their sins are part of the penance.
To do anything less would be.... unchristian.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Puppet Gods
We did the "divide and conquer" thing again on Sunday: we got up late, I really wanted to go to 9 a.m. Mass, and there was no way we'd all be ready in time. Besides, the kids were cranky and I didn't want to sit through the extra-long Palm Sunday Mass with them. So I went to 9 a.m., and Michael walks out the door as I walk in to make the 10:30 (generally calling questions and instructions to each other while one walks down the driveway).
As we head into Holy Week, and coming up to the Triduum (my very favourite time of year), often the homilies are about the Death of Christ and the Redemption of Sin, for obvious reasons. Sunday's homily was no exception.
Father talked about the Triumphant Entry into Jerusalem, but how they turned on Him demanding His crucifixion only a few days later. What changed? I've heard this explanation before, that they were expecting their Messiah to deliver them from their enemies, the Romans. When it became clear that it was not the case, well... I'm sure you know how this story ends.
But something Father said has stuck with me, and I admit has troubled me. He said that people often treat God like their own personal puppet God (his words, not mine), expecting them to deliver them from their problems. In fact, Christ came to deliver us from our sin.
At first, I nodded my head. It made sense. I mean, I understood it with my brain. We can't rely on God to fix our own personal problems: He has equipped us to do that more or less ourselves. I have know people over the course of my life that have sat back and expected God to fix their lives, and then blamed Him when nothing happened.
And I mean, there is nothing saying we can't pray for wisdom as to how to solve our problems, on making the right choices, or praying that we receive a littledivine testicular fortitude courage to do the right thing.
Absolutely. I wholly agree with this homily. God doesn't fix our problems, He fixed our sin. Case closed.
But then my heart whispered: What about your children?
And so I said to my heart: What was that? Speak up, please.
And then my heart reminded me of all the times I spent on my knees, praying for Abby to be healed. Knowing that it probably wouldn't happen, but also believing that miracles can and do happen. I remembered my anguished cry when I started bleeding in my first trimester with Rachael: "Please God, let me at least meet my child." How many breathless prayers have I whispered for my children, my spouse, my parents, my friends and my community?
Sometimes God does fix our problems. We usually call them miracles. Pretty sure that's the definition of a miracle. Or at least, we'll call it Divine Intervention and consider the matter settled. Either way, I don't expect Him to just... poof... fix something, especially if it's a mess I have skillfully created myself. But I don't think that asking Him to fix my "problem" is in itself... well, a problem.
Is it?
At first, I nodded my head. It made sense. I mean, I understood it with my brain. We can't rely on God to fix our own personal problems: He has equipped us to do that more or less ourselves. I have know people over the course of my life that have sat back and expected God to fix their lives, and then blamed Him when nothing happened.
And I mean, there is nothing saying we can't pray for wisdom as to how to solve our problems, on making the right choices, or praying that we receive a little
Absolutely. I wholly agree with this homily. God doesn't fix our problems, He fixed our sin. Case closed.
But then my heart whispered: What about your children?
And so I said to my heart: What was that? Speak up, please.
And then my heart reminded me of all the times I spent on my knees, praying for Abby to be healed. Knowing that it probably wouldn't happen, but also believing that miracles can and do happen. I remembered my anguished cry when I started bleeding in my first trimester with Rachael: "Please God, let me at least meet my child." How many breathless prayers have I whispered for my children, my spouse, my parents, my friends and my community?
Sometimes God does fix our problems. We usually call them miracles. Pretty sure that's the definition of a miracle. Or at least, we'll call it Divine Intervention and consider the matter settled. Either way, I don't expect Him to just... poof... fix something, especially if it's a mess I have skillfully created myself. But I don't think that asking Him to fix my "problem" is in itself... well, a problem.
Is it?
Monday, February 22, 2010
For Sale... ?
Yesterday, I walked through a big mall in Capital City (the city where I grew up) for the first time in forever. I had the girls with me, we were just killing time waiting for Daddy.
Now, maybe I'm just getting sheltered living in a small, comparatively conservative city these days. I have walked though the mall at home fairly recently, and don't remember being overwhelmingly shocked.
I was quite shocked walking through this particular mall. Some of the store fronts have very nice displays... one in particular had a nice assortment of bath and beauty products.
Most clothing stores, however, were horrifying. They were equally appalling for children, teens and adults. They screamed the same message, over and over.
"I am for sale"... as in, "My body is for sale".
I've noticed that it's getting harder and harder to buy clothing, even young children's clothing, that's modest. And by "modest", I mean no cleavage, no belly buttons, no bum cleavage, and something that hangs slightly from the body instead of being skin-tight. Not unreasonable, I would think?
But it's hard. I don't think anyone needs to see my three-year-old's "cleavage". Try buying a dress larger than a 3x that doesn't have a plunging neckline, spaghetti straps, or a tightly-fitted bodice. No small task, I tell you!
Lingerie for eight-year-olds? Why? We encourage our children to dress like they're going clubbing when they're in grades 1 and 2, and then we're shocked and surprised when they are sexually active at 14 or 15.
I often buy used and second-hand clothes for my kids, and gladly take hand-me-downs for the sake of economy. However, I find that I am increasingly purposely buying older-style clothing for my children because I have difficulty finding appropriate attire for them in the "new" clothing section.
I have been giving a lot of thought about modesty lately. What does that mean? I know several people... evangelical protestants, mostly... who only wear below-the-knee skirts because they feel that they are compelled to do so by the Bible (they generally site Deutoronomy and 1 Timothy). They have a two-fold concern: firstly, that women should dress differently from men. They feel that this means that women must wear skirts, always and never pants. I see many flaws with this argument, none of which I feel like I want to get into right now.
Secondly, and this one interests me, is that they feel that it's more modest for a woman to wear a long skirt. Certainly, there are immodest skirts out there... I saw several in that mall. But the idea of what constitutes modesty intrigues me. It's so... counter-cultural. We are not taught to be modest anymore. Do we even know what that means?
Do I know what that means?
More on this later.
Now, maybe I'm just getting sheltered living in a small, comparatively conservative city these days. I have walked though the mall at home fairly recently, and don't remember being overwhelmingly shocked.
I was quite shocked walking through this particular mall. Some of the store fronts have very nice displays... one in particular had a nice assortment of bath and beauty products.
Most clothing stores, however, were horrifying. They were equally appalling for children, teens and adults. They screamed the same message, over and over.
"I am for sale"... as in, "My body is for sale".
I've noticed that it's getting harder and harder to buy clothing, even young children's clothing, that's modest. And by "modest", I mean no cleavage, no belly buttons, no bum cleavage, and something that hangs slightly from the body instead of being skin-tight. Not unreasonable, I would think?
But it's hard. I don't think anyone needs to see my three-year-old's "cleavage". Try buying a dress larger than a 3x that doesn't have a plunging neckline, spaghetti straps, or a tightly-fitted bodice. No small task, I tell you!
Lingerie for eight-year-olds? Why? We encourage our children to dress like they're going clubbing when they're in grades 1 and 2, and then we're shocked and surprised when they are sexually active at 14 or 15.
I often buy used and second-hand clothes for my kids, and gladly take hand-me-downs for the sake of economy. However, I find that I am increasingly purposely buying older-style clothing for my children because I have difficulty finding appropriate attire for them in the "new" clothing section.
I have been giving a lot of thought about modesty lately. What does that mean? I know several people... evangelical protestants, mostly... who only wear below-the-knee skirts because they feel that they are compelled to do so by the Bible (they generally site Deutoronomy and 1 Timothy). They have a two-fold concern: firstly, that women should dress differently from men. They feel that this means that women must wear skirts, always and never pants. I see many flaws with this argument, none of which I feel like I want to get into right now.
Secondly, and this one interests me, is that they feel that it's more modest for a woman to wear a long skirt. Certainly, there are immodest skirts out there... I saw several in that mall. But the idea of what constitutes modesty intrigues me. It's so... counter-cultural. We are not taught to be modest anymore. Do we even know what that means?
Do I know what that means?
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Begining
If you're reading this, maybe you've been to my other blog, All Our Needs Are Special. I created this blog, A Prairie Catholic, because I find my musing increasingly revolve around my faith. I wanted a place where I can examine them.
And so it begins.
And so it begins.
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