Here We Go Again

So a couple of filmakers/wannabe archaeologists think they've found the bones of Jesus in a tomb.

No, really. And they've got a TV special AND a book coming out next week.

As Midwest Dad says, welcome to our Lent -- the season in which the secular world, which didn't know what to do with Jesus then and still doesn't now, brings forth yet another pseudodocumentary with oh-so-serious undertones. The bottom line is, well, the usual bottom line: $$$. Amazing, though, the public appetite for anything which tries to make Christians look like either fools or charlatans, or both. Can't hardly blame opportunists for capitalizing on the Lenten season, really; it's been so rewarding to others in the past.

The Church failed to self-destruct over the Duh-Vinci Code (two years ago) or the so-called gospel of Judas (last year), so perhaps this is the secularists' shot at try, try again -- or is that third time's the charm?

Not so much. This one is pretty lame, despite the aegis of The Discovery Channel. Yes, there are some who believe everything they see on TV is true, and for those we can only pray. As The Anchoress points out,

Stop fretting that “some may lose faith,” over this. If they do, then they were in the shallow soil to start with, and they’ll either find a better place to root or they won’t. Pray for them and then let the Holy Spirit do that Spirit Thang we love so much.

If I may make a prediction here: This will blow over pretty quickly.

But even if I'm wrong, and it grows legs, I don't think we should rise to righteous indignation over it. There are enough holes in this one to, well, sink the Titanic -- apropos, since the producer of the docudramamentary also made the movie about the boat.

Look, Ma, I'm Catholic

I live at some distance -- several hundred miles -- from most of my family and one dear friend who has known me since the fifth grade (that would be more than 40 years, at this point). Along with all of the other disadvantages to geographic separation, there's one that has weighed rather heavily on my heart these days.

Some of them don't yet know I am Catholic.

If the intervening miles between us could be snapped back like a rubber band, they would have seen the process of my conversion as it unfolded. As it is, the visual cues alone would now be hard to miss; the catechism and missals and breviary and other Catholic books around the house, the crucifixes on the walls and the small one around my neck, the framed and blessed Our Father I received in RCIA, a statue of Mary here and St. Jude there, a picture of the Holy Father, novena candles ... and finally the rosaries. Plural. The ones my daughter and I pray with, and the ones I make and give away.

If they visited over a weekend, it would also be hard to miss the fact that I go to Mass; they would be invited to come with me, but even if they politely declined, I'd be going anyway. Even before then, they may hear me saying morning or evening prayers or a rosary. Or see me make the sign of the Cross as we pray before a meal.

All of this is part of my life now. And I am not trying to keep it a secret. But some of these dear ones are also very entrenched and committed to a Protestant fundamentalism that teaches them -- has told them all of their lives -- that the doctrines of Catholic church are, at best, misguided and in error; at worst, anathema.

How to tell them? How to explain that all of the outward and visible evidence that this friend/sister/niece of theirs, whom they love, has "gone Catholic" is nowhere near as significant as the inward changes that have occurred as a result? How to express that the fullness and richness of Christianity, most especially in the Eucharist as the source and summit of our faith, is not just a "belief system" to which I subscribe but the very life of Christ -- an inheritance that they share, as my brothers and sisters, if only they would accept it?

How, indeed. To a certain extent, most converts have this dilemma: On the heels of telling our loved ones about our conversion, we must immediately become apologists and evangelists when we are still very wet behind the ears in more ways than one. If we're honest with ourselves, the prayer most often on our lips at those times is "Lord, please don't let me screw this up". Scott Hahn, I am not, nor even Marcus Grodi.

We just tell them, and let the Holy Spirit take it from there ... yes, but let me do it gently and lovingly and with a humble heart, and if even a glimmer of arrogance or superiority begins to creep in, let me shut my mouth until my attitude changes.

If we risk a relationship in "breaking the news" to those who are still where we were, then we risk it, and can offer up that sorrow. And always, always keep our loved ones in prayer.

Easy to answer. Hard to do, and thus I procrastinate. Lord, strengthen me.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

Seen On Ash Wednesday

This is great. Trust Kansas City Catholic to start my Lent with a smile.

I'm thinking about e-mailing this to some of my family members; if nothing else it will get a conversation going.

In the meantime, I couldn't resist playing with the church sign generator myself:

Vaccine-Nation

I have granddaughters. The eldest is nine.

If she lived in Texas today (and other states are poised to follow suit), she and her sisters and female cousins would be required -- prior to entering the sixth grade -- to get a vaccination against a sexually transmitted disease that may (or may not) prevent her from getting cervical cancer.

There's no way to get human papilloma virus, or HPV, from other than sexual contact. It's not an airborne virus; no one is going to expose her to it by coughing nearby. She can't get it by drinking out of someone else's cup. It doesn't spread like wildfire through a crowded sixth-grade schoolroom like the flu -- or at least like the flu did before we had shots for that, too.

Even so, the Texas governor apparently feels this is such a huge public health issue that he's mandating vaccination (with Gardesil, manufactured and heavily marketed by Merck, to which the governor reportedly has some fairly close ties) for all of the little girls in his state.

Just the girls. Because, you see, they're the ones who can potentially get cervical cancer from contracting HPV. (They can also get other forms of it that have nothing to do with either HPV or having a series of Gardesil vaccinations, but the impression one gets from the Merck ads is that vaccination = safe from cervical cancer, period.)

I guess the little boys are off the hook in more ways than one. Not only does this order not affect them, but they also get to enter adolescence knowing that just about all of their female peers (those whose parents haven't opted out "for reasons of conscience") presumably won't get HPV even if the fellas end up being promiscuous little carriers.

As far as I can tell, there's been no word from Gov. Perry as to his level of concern for males who contract this virus. Perhaps I should be relieved that there's been no proposal -- yet -- to hand sixth-grade boys packages of prophylactics so they don't feel left out.

There's nothing wrong with developing vaccines and cures for STDs, as far as that goes. But there is plenty wrong with mandating vaccination of children against something they aren't going to get unless they have premarital sex; it presupposes that they will, and even obliquely condones it.

"Safe sex" in the popular context never was, and never will be. We would do our children far greater good by teaching them the context in which sex IS safe; between a husband and wife, exclusively, with abstinence by both before marriage. It's 100% guaranteed "safe" from all of the things for which we've scrambled to develop pills and shots.

But there's no profit for Big Pharm in that, and darned few political donations made on that basis.

Did anybody really think this was NOT about money?

American Papist has a good roundup of full coverage on this.

VERT (not the color) topic: First Catholic Faux Pax

[Note: VERT "is an online community & resource for Catholic converts, reverts and those sincerely considering converting to the Eastern Rite or Western Rite of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church." Weekly posting topics are suggested; members who wish to participate blog about that topic and link the post at VERT so that all can share. Joining VERT is simplicity itself; I highly recommend it for any "vert".]


This is actually LAST week's topic; I've missed the posting cutoff by one day due to a grandchild's birthday. I don't think our Owen will mind, though.

When I first started going to Mass regularly on Sundays, I was very concerned about whether I'd do something wrong -- or even something right but at the wrong time -- and offend someone. I held the missalette firmly with three fingers serving as place-holders on different pages, a grip I somewhat relaxed to ease the ache in my awkwardly-placed fingers only during the homily. (This, after all, was the part of Mass that was most familiar to someone coming from an evangelical Protestant tradition.)

One problem: I'm left-handed. The digital gymnastics described above were, at first, done with my right hand in order to leave my dominant hand free. So which hand did I use to make the sign of the Cross?

Yep. I did it with my south paw; during Mass, and also at the holy water font. It finally dawned on me that the sidelong glances from others nearby was not because I was following the missalette word-for-word -- inquirers and new converts are not an unusual sight in our parish masses. Rather, I'm sure it was a bit disconcerting to see the sign of our faith made with the "wrong" hand as it looked, well, backward.

I did catch on. Rather quickly, at that. But I'm such a dominant lefty that sometimes I still have to consciously remind myself as I'm leaving the church after Mass to disengage the autopilot, break with the habitual, and really think about what I'm doing. Which, come to think of it, isn't a bad way to approach going out into the world after Mass in more ways than one.

Thank You, RCIA

Evidence that I actually paid attention in RCIA class:

You are a 100% traditional Catholic!

 

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