"[A] clear gap -- of class, income and education -- exists between those who work in this increasingly professionalized reproductive justice movement and those women who now form the majority of abortion patients," Joffe and Cosby write. "... The women we encountered in the waiting rooms of three abortion clinics, located in the South and Midwest, have little experience with the contemporary reproductive justice movement, or indeed of politics in general. But they are highly aware of the shame and stigma surrounding abortion."
It is because of this shame, the writers state elsewhere in the article, "[r]ather than expressing solidarity with others experiencing unwanted pregnancies, nearly all our respondents took pains to distinguish themselves as different from other women getting abortions."
In effect, the writers conclude that shame, as well as children, should be aborted. Throw out the dirty bathwater with the baby,
It seems to me that abortion advocates love the higher moral standards of the poor when they advocate social-welfare programs, or when they oppose military intervention. Witness Sen. Hillary Clinton's vocal gymnastics when speaking in a black church:
It's only when those same poor folks uphold the dignity of human life that they become thick and misinformed, requiring re-education by their more privileged, better-educated and (often) lighter-skinned sisters in the movement.
A religious organization's pro-abstinence Web site tells teens and young adults that "condoms are not the answer" and neither is the contraceptive pill or the patch. In addition to pointing out failure rates of the contraceptives, it notes that " no form of birth control protects against the non-physical effects of sexual activity. Guilt, worry, regret, shame, depression and other emotional consequences remain the same, regardless of any contraceptives that may be used."
The site also warns of spiritual consequences to nonmarital sex &8212; that such activity cuts off one's soul. Sex outside of marriage is a "relationship killer," it warns, adding that there is "no condom for the heart or for the mind." The site's language is often preachy and sometimes oversimplified, but its message hits hard and makes no apologies for its orthodoxy.
Kudos — or, rather, mazel tov, then — to the Orthodox (Jewish) Union for having the chutzpah to take a public stand for chastity.
Athos of Three Massketeers is camera-shy, but he's posted the Eden half of his shot of me at Tuesday's Dawn Patrol blog-reader bash at a Washington, D.C., Cosi eatery, along with a lovely writeup of the event. "Framermike" has an account of the evening as well. I had a beautiful time myself and hope we can all do it again soon — many thanks to everyone who came.
So, yesterday afternoon I was enjoying a happy moment in chastity-author mode — in a shop in Washington, D.C., on a gorgeous spring day, speaking on my cell phone with a Catholic priest while on my way to meet someone from a nonprofit organization that promotes family values.
The only part of the picture that didn't quite mesh was that the shop was Victoria's Secret.
I had boycotted Victoria's Secret for the past five years, out of disgust with their Frederick's of Hollywood-style window displays and their use of "angels" in their advertising. (That didn't stop me from writing a headline in the New York Post back when Bob Dylan sang in one of their TV commercials: "Dylan sells out for a thong.")
Unfortunately, I had packed quickly for my D.C. trip and had, um, forgotten something, and I didn't have much time to find another shop that sold what I needed.
The aforementioned priest phoned right when I was at the checkout, so I was distracted as the cashier rang up my purchase. It was only as I was headed towards the front door that I realized I was carrying a big, pink laminated shopping bag emblazoned with the store's name.
A vision suddenly came to me of my walking into the offices of the family-values organization, where I was going as author of The Thrill of the Chaste, trying to look all modest and wholesome while toting this ridiculous candy-colored bag like a neon sign from a place that sells Angels Hydraulic Ultra-Padded Dream Lace Push-Up whathaveyous.
I asked the priest to hold on and dashed back to the cashier. "Do you have a brown bag I could use?"
The answer was no.
"I don't want anyone to know I shopped here," I exclaimed. "Do you have a plastic bag you could turn inside out?"
The cashier looked at me like I was insane. I probably did seem odd, if not downright rude, as I summarily yanked my magenta-tissue-wrapped purchase out of the shopping bag, dumped the bag back at the cash register, and stuffed the purchase into my attaché.
"Sorry, Father," I said into my cell phone as I stepped back out into the bright sunlight of Connecticut Avenue, even though I should have been apologizing to the cashier. "I, uh ... I didn't want anyone to know I had been shopping at Victoria's Secret."
He laughed heartily. "When I heard you say that to the cashier," he said, "I knew that's where you were."
To mainstream media outlets covering the surge in certain orders' vocations, the youthful Sisters of Life have become the rock stars of the religious world. The prevailing angle is that they are Just Like You and Me except that they're nuns.
There's this cool clip on YouTube from a documentary:
Both of these clips somehow omit manage to omit entirely the fact that the sisters do more than pray and study the Bible.
The Sisters of Life do what no government agency does, and what very few even in the pro-life movement accomplish: giving a full range of practical as well as emotional support to pregnant women who want to choose life but face obstacles such as poverty, abusive boyfriends or family members, or joblessness. These nuns double as social workers, providing shelter when necessary and helping the women they serve to get their lives together so that they can be fully prepared to mother their children. More than that, the sisters train volunteers who in turn open their hearts and sometimes homes to pregnant women in need of respite, who often have few friends or family who support their choosing life. And that's just some of their work; they also do much more. While others talk about building a culture of life, the Sisters of Life are quietly, humbly, doing it.
I'm sorry to say that there is precious little on the Web that captures the breadth of the sisters' apostolate, though their home page gives an overview. The best encapsulation I can find is a couple of pages from their newsletter. Read the stories about Susan, who went through their Entering Canaan program for post-abortive women, and Josenia, a pregnant young woman they helped, who I met at the sisters' Sacred Heart convent.
For the sake of the Sisters of Life and those whom they help, I'm very happy if all the attention they receive draws women to enter the order. At the same time, I hope that one of the camera crews beating down their door can stop videotaping their roller-hockey games long enough to show the truly remarkable work they do for the women and families they serve.
Here are the latest dates for the Thrill of the Chaste tour. I am so excited about each of these — most of all, the Dublin date, as I've never been to Ireland. (In particular, I'm eager to see Glendalough.)
Speak at "God Is Love," the annual Catholic Youth Conference for ages 18-40, sponsored by the Legion of Mary, All Hallows College, Dublin, Ireland.
June 15
Speak at 26th annual G.K. Chesterton Conference, University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minn., 7 p.m. (just before Joseph Pearce's talk). Topic: "“The Girl Who Was Thirsty: How G. K. Chesterton Opened the Door to My Conversion."
"There are four great lamps of thanksgiving burning before me.
"The first: that I was born out of the same earth as you.
"Two, I have tried to love everything in the universe as a remote preparation for loving you.
"Three, I have never run after strange women. You cannot understand how much this prepares a man for true love.
"Four, my life ends here. It has led me to you."
— G.K. Chesterton writing to his future wife, Frances Blogg, according to Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. The archbishop quoted the above lines in "Three Kinds of Love," one of the talks on his "Family Retreat" DVD.
As I mentioned earlier, there will be a Dawn Patrol blog-reader kaffeeklatsch in Washington, D.C., this Tuesday evening. So far, I've invited everyone who expressed their desire to attend. If you'd like to be there, please leave a comment below, including your e-mail address, or write me ASAP. If we're not already acquainted or you've never commented before, please tell me a little about yourself. It's a small gathering and I'd like to be at least a little familiar with the attendees, since my own life is pretty much an open book.
Pro-choicers bid to eradicate guilt, babies, and poverty — in that order
Alternet writers Carole Joffe, a UC Davis professor, and Kate Cosby take on "The Loneliness and Shame of the Abortion Patient" and conclude that the main problem facing women who seek abortion is shame. Not shame at the thought of bringing forth a child, mind you, but shame over their abortion:
The situation we describe is very different from the one that existed in the United States in the 1970s, around the time of legalization of abortion. Then, many women seeking abortions felt part of a larger movement. "Second wave" feminism was flourishing and women's health issues were a central focus of the movement. People still had fresh memories of when abortion was illegal, and thousands of women died and many more were injured from unsafe abortions. Rather than being ashamed, many abortion patients of the pre-Roe v. Wade era recall feeling entitled to having this once dangerous procedure done in a professional and women-centered setting.
Ah, for the days when a baby wasn't a baby, but an opportunity to make a political statement! Snuff out that "blob of tissue" and stick it to The Man! You're not merely a woman with a unique, irreplaceable life growing inside you — you're "part of a movement"! Rejoice and be glad!
The authors go on:
The new occupation of "abortion counselor" was established in this period -- someone who explained the procedure to the patient and accompanied her throughout her stay at the clinic. Feminist health activists pressured the newly established clinics to keep prices low and to make sure doctors were sufficiently respectful to their patients. In short, for many patients in the early years of legal abortion, the experience was both "personal and political," in that there were constant reminders that this medical procedure was tied to a larger movement. In contrast, in many of today's clinics, the staff is so busy complying with state-imposed "informed consent" requirements, which often involve telling patients downright lies -- for example, the supposed link between abortion and breast cancer and other distortions of risks of the procedure -- that there is rarely the opportunity to impart a positive political message about reproductive justice.
Again with the "larger movement," enabling the woman to make a decision that is "personal and political." But hey, there were a lot of larger movements killing people for personal and political reasons back in the early Seventies: the Black Panthers, the Symbionese Liberation Army, the Weather Underground; it was the thing to do. Why just go to the doctor for a prenatal exam when you can instead kill your child and "impart a positive political message about reproductive justice"?
Ah, but times have changed, and contemporary abortion patients no longer understand that they can effect positive social change merely by having their preborn child destroyed. "[A] clear gap -- of class, income and education -- exists between those who work in this increasingly professionalized reproductive justice movement and those women who now form the majority of abortion patients," Jacobs and Cosby note sadly. They go on:
The women we encountered in the waiting rooms of three abortion clinics, located in the South and Midwest, have little experience with the contemporary reproductive justice movement, or indeed of politics in general. But they are highly aware of the shame and stigma surrounding abortion. Some spoke of their fears of being recognized in the waiting room by acquaintances. Others, when asked if they would have preferred to have their abortions performed by their own doctors, in their home towns, rather than undertaking a drive of several hours to a clinic, recoiled at the thought. "I don't think that I would be comfortable going to my ob-gyn for an abortion, knowing that's the same man that delivered my children. ... I would think he would think of me differently. ... I mean, he sees me in one light, and that's the way I want him to see me."
None of the women interviewed said they thought abortion should be illegal. But many expressed ambivalence about their decision to have one. An unmistakable sense of sadness hovered around our conversations. Ultimately, these women made the decision to have an abortion for the same reasons women always have: Their recognition that they could not adequately care for a child at this moment in their lives. This seemed especially true for the more than half of our interviewees who already have children.
This would seem to be a wonderful opportunity to make common cause with the thousands of pregnancy resource centers throughout the country that give free material aid to pregnant women, or with groups like the Sisters of Life, Good Counsel Homes, and Expectant Mother Care that provide a full range of social services — including, if necessary, a safe place to life. No such network exists among pro-choicers to make life a more attractive choice to women in need. A donation to Planned Parenthood does not buy baby clothes, let alone shelter. A donation to NARAL does not pay for a crib.
Instead of calling upon readers to dig into their own pockets like activist pro-lifers do, or pull together to form pro-choice pregnancy centers for women who do not wish to abort their children, Joffe and Cosby call only for solutions requiring more taxes and more regulations. "Affordable housing, living wages, better child care, intimate partner violence programs and universal health care are things the movement must fight for in order to give these women and their children a shot at a decent life," they write.
But even universal health care won't call off these pro-choice dogs. The only real answer, they conclude, is an end to guilt: "And if that weren't enough," they write of their movement goals, "a challenge of a different nature is to make the lonely women in the waiting rooms feel part of that struggle."
In other words, you may be poor, you may be abused, you may have been dumped by the father of your child, say these pro-choicers. We cannot help you. Society is to blame. But we can make you feel that your abortion is part of the reproductive-rights struggle.
Well, it wouldn't be the first time that a preborn child was a martyr. And it wouldn't be the first time that left-wingers told a woman that her position in "the movement" was horizontal.
9:26 PM |
"There are countless books in stores about how to find your soul mate and live happy and wonderful lives. There are countless romantic films about people who have found true love in the most unlikely circumstances and conditions, but the only way to find the right person is to be the right person. You must be willing to put instant gratification on hold for the promise of a permanent and lasting connection and the only way to find true love is to share an intimacy that's beyond the flesh, and yet does not include the flesh. It means having a spiritual foundation in your relationship that does not involve the sharing of body parts but the sharing of a life-giving faith. In short it means trying to give up the chase, in favor of being thrilled by being chaste."
While staying in a hotel the other night, I switched on the TV — a guilty pleasure while traveling, as I deny myself one at home — and magically caught "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" from the beginning. I had never seen it before —my friends will tell you that I am extremely wary of seeing any film made after the Hays Code was discarded — but had been curious about it since learning that Jim Carrey's character was allegedly inspired by a teenage crush of mine.
I found myself transfixed for the entire film, and duly bawled at the end.
Without spoiling it, I can tell you a couple of things that struck me about it. One was its sharp psychological insight into the age-old subject of the Break-Up — like the way Carrey's character, asked to list the problems he had with his ex-girlfriend, begins with serious criticisms that ultimately devolve into laughably petty complaints (she said "liberry" for "library").
But what really impressed me had to do with the fact that earlier in the day, I had finally finished reading Fulton J. Sheen's Three to Get Married. Although the romantic leads in "Eternal Sunshine" are not married, the film's message seemed to echo Sheen's words towards the end of the book:
The essence of married love is not sex, but consent; not animality, but freedom; not a libido, but a choice. If marriage is a love of "the opposite sex," it is selfishness disguised as love. If marriage is love of a person, it is eternity in the garments of time. ... The free choice of another person, against the idea of attraction for one of the opposite sex, is the difference between a true marriage and an unhappy one. But because freedom is the mark of the Spirit which comes from God, a marriage based on consent partakes of Divinity at its very beginning. More than that, it proves that he who freely chooses is also ready for sacrifice.
Much of "Eternal Sunshine," as with most other romantic films, is about the chase — the rush of intensity that accompanies the start of a relationship. Yet, the film is ultimately not about chase, but rather choice, and the ways in which each choice we make either limits or enhances our freedom.
The great and often difficult truth that Sheen articulates is that, when we make choices with a willingness to sacrifice, it is then that we have the most freedom. When, out of a desire to remain free from obligation to another, we run away from the hard choices, it is then that our options are narrowed.
* * *
I have felt for a long time that I should love more —not just in the romantic relationships I have had, but in every relationship.
When I take in Three to Get Married and other works of his, Sheen seems to seize upon this nagging feeling of mine, pointing to a way to become the more loving person I want to be.
The only problem is, he is pointing to the Cross.
He writes in Three to Get Married:
The pagan, seeing the gold mixed with dross, throws away the treasure because he has no knowledge of how to refine it. The Christian, however, can extract the Divine gold from the dross of suffering and thus add to the wealth of his Christian character. Suffering then becomes assimilable to the soul through the power of the Cross. But to the worldling, it becomes a double-cross; inside as an intellectual complexity incapable of solution, and outside as a violent intrusion and disturbance of one's egotism. The man without faith is no more immune from a cross than the man with faith. The difference is that the Christian has only one Cross, which is so understandable, while the egotist has two crosses, whose names are Rebellion and Suffering. A moment can actually be reached by the Christian when his suffering is felt less and less as coming from the outside, or as being imposed on him, and more and more as a failure to accomplish perfectly within himself the Will of God.
* * *
Once, when I was speaking to an assistant manager at a bank, a young woman from India, I noticed she had on her desk a framed drawing of a fantastic-looking elephantine creature.
I made some benign comment about the image. The young woman answered, "That is my god."
"Ganesha?" I asked.
"That's right," she said.
"What's he like?"
"He is not an easy god," she answered simply. "He is very strict with me."
Something about her tone impressed me. She was fostering a devotion to a god who demanded a higher code of behavior of her, one that required her to overcome some of her natural inclinations. I could admire that, even as I wished I could bring myself to tell her about my God.
* * *
The saints are not gods, but each one represents a way to embody God's love, and some ways appear stricter than others. Reading Fulton J. Sheen and trying to live out his path to loving, I can identify with that assistant manager.
At the same time, there is a reward in challenging oneself to make sacrifices — I mean, not just a future reward, but one that can be experienced now, at this moment. I think it is an increasing feeling that, even when one is undergoing pain, one is not alone.
10:49 PM |
It was one of those wretched situations that you hope will never happen when you travel: One day last month, when I was supposed to be heading to Louisville, Ky., to give talks there and in Cincinnati, I got stuck at Newark Liberty Airport's Terminal C for eight hours due to a flight snafu.
When I phoned my seminarian friend Dennis Schenkel, who was set to pick me up at the Louisville airport, he suggested I use some of my free time to visit Jesus.
Huh? I knew the terminal had a "Meditation Room," but I had poked my head in once and didn't recall there being anything in it besides some plastic chairs.
Dennis insisted that it had the Real Presence — a tabernacle containing the consecrated Host.
If you've been to Terminal C and seen this sign ...
... you'll probably agree that the last thing you expect to see in side is a tabernacle.
But, after getting off the phone with Dennis, I went in anyway. Walking past a guy sleeping on a prayer mat, I saw it in the corner ...
... a real-life, honest-to-goodness tabernacle, with the red sanctuary lamp signifying that the consecrated host was within. (The sanctuary lamp has always fascinated me as a Jewish convert, as it is directly descended from the Jewish ner tamid, or eternal flame.)
A sign in the chapel gave times for Mass and other prayer services, as well as a phone number for the airport's chaplain. I did some Internet research when I got home and learned that the chaplain is Father David Baratelli, who has received praise around the world for the way he ministered to workers in the pit at Ground Zero in the days following the 9/11 attacks.
A couple of days ago, I was back at the airport and stopped in to the chapel again. It is positioned almost immediately after the security checkpoint. Going straight from the discomfort and humiliation of a security check to the peace and beauty of Christ's presence feels surreal, like stepping into another world. The chapel's dusty curtains, industrial carpet, and institutional white walls fade away and you just see the mystical brass box with the angels carved on it, along with the Byzantine icon of Jesus.
I prayed a decade of the rosary and then, having to catch my plane, asked Jesus to let His presence stay with me when I finished my rosary on the plane. I know that sounds silly in the sense that He is always with us, but there is something about the physical feeling of being with the Real Presence that makes you want to take it with you. At any rate, my request was granted and I got to finish the rosary while gazing at the clouds outside the window.
RELATED: This entry sparked an entry critical of Eucharistic Adoration by Presbyterian assistant pastor Mark Horne. Check out the discussion in the comments (which includes my two cents).
As guest blogger Henrietta G. Tavish discussed here last week, student journalist Lila Rose went undercover to expose Planned Parenthood's concealment of child rape. She's since been interviewed on "The O'Reilly Factor," where she came off as bright and articulate (and, I'd say, a better TV communicator than her lawyer):
The clip above is taken from Rose's Web site, The Advocate, which also has links to other interviews and news stories regarding her pro-life efforts.
The other day, I sent the wonderful Catholic song parodist Nick Alexander an idea out of the blue, inspired by reading Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen's "Calvary and the Mass" on the train home: Procol Harum's "Conquistador" redone as "Confiteor."
That was the extent of my inspiration; in less than a day and a half, Nick has created a firs draft of the lyrics — and it's brill. Here's a sample:
Confiteor, the start of mass: exactly what I need Before encountering the King, I'll need some purity
So I beat upon my breast And then I bow in shame. Do others feel disgraced Because they know my name?
And yet I pray, Lord, if Thou be inclined To be my Saviour, woe, I'm so blind...
Confiteor's my chance to rid: my apostasy Wonder if my neighbor's kids, are half as bad as me
I wish very much that I could go, but I have a commitment out of town. Just thinking about being unable to attend puts a sad song in my head — to the tune of "Guantanamera": Cantalamessa, I'm missing Cantalamessa ...
"There are churches I don't go to anymore, cafes that hold bitter memories, and parks I won't cut through on my way to a bus stop," she writes.
While everyone's entitled to heal in their own way, I believe that changing one's lifestyle in order to avoid "bitter memories" is Not a Good Idea.
During the times of my life when I've gone through a breakup, it can be very painful to revisit places that recall lost intimacy. But the alternative, avoiding a place where I might ultimately find joy — be it a church of which I'm fond, a café that serves bubble tea, or a beautiful park — is worse. And when it comes to forgoing short cuts, I don't think any emotional pain is worth missing a bus. The old, cynical maxim that "men are like buses" is a base canard, but so too is its corollary; if you miss a bus, there may well not be another one coming around the pike.
That is not to say that I was terribly happy that day, one week after my last breakup, when a magazine photographer phoned to tell me he'd found the perfect spot for his shoot with me that day, a Village café — which happened to be the site of my first date with my former boyfriend. In the ensuing photos (taken at the café and in Washington Square), I looked like a condemned woman on her way to the gallows. But then, the café wasn't a place where I would normally have gone; that first date was the first time I'd been there in years. Avoiding it for a while wouldn't have disrupted my life.
I also don't recommend revisiting music enjoyed with a past love if the pain of separation is still fresh. Music has far more power to stir the emotions than a geographical place. When a piece of classical music that I'd experienced with a former boyfriend popped up on an Internet radio station, I decided I'd listen to it all the way through and thereby purge myself of any painful associations it evoked. Forty minutes later, my computer desk was a minefield of wet tissues — and I still bawled the next time that piece of music hit my ears.
But reclaiming geographical places in order to bring a semblance of normalcy back to your life — that's different. It really is possible to "rebaptize" them, and not just with tears. Go to them determined to exorcise the ghost who resides there. It stings the first time. The second time, the pain goes down to a dull ache, and then it falls off steeply. Pretty soon, you'll be much better off than if you did the avoidance thing — partly because you'll no longer be deprived of places you like, and partly because the avoidance itself only reopens the wound. The mental energy required to consciously avoid a place causes painful memories to arise afresh.
More than that, it's important to get beyond thinking in terms of "places we went/places where we didn't go." If you're determined to avoid places with painful associations, think about what you're doing in the places where you don't have such associations. If you're simply seeking relief and distraction, then you're still turned in upon yourself, as your life continues to be ruled by the empty space. Sometimes it may be better to feel the empty space. At least then, recognizing your own limitations, you may eventually reach a place where you can make something good of your pain — by removing your focus from yourself and reaching out to others who are hurting.
Don't worry about what people will think at the places where you and your former love hung out. If the waiter asks about your former love, tell him you broke up. He won't ask you again — and you might even get an extra biscotti.
Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen on Calvary and the Mass
[Note: I found the Bishop Sheen essay excerpted below while searching for writings on how to be thankful for one's crosses. The article from which it comes is stunning and I highly recommend reading it in its entirety. The prayer (which is all-capitals in the original) is reminiscent of St. Ignatius of Loyola's prayer: "Take, O Lord, and receive my entire liberty, my memory, my understanding and my whole will. All that I am and all that I possess You have given me. I surrender it all to You to be disposed of according to Your will. Give me only Your love and Your grace; with these I will be rich enough, and will desire nothing more." — Dawn]
As the consecration of the Mass draws near our Lord is equivalently saying to us: "You, Mary; you, John; you, Peter; and you, Andrew-you, all of you-give Me your body; give Me your blood. Give Me your whole self! I can suffer no more. I have passed through My cross, I have filled up the sufferings of My physical body, but I have not filled up the sufferings wanting to My Mystical Body, in which you are. The Mass is the moment when each one of you may literally fulfill My injunction: 'Take up your cross and follow Me.'"
On the cross our Blessed Lord was looking forward to you, hoping that one day you would be giving yourself to Him at the moment of consecration. Today, in the Mass, that hope our Blessed Lord entertained for you is fulfilled. When you assist at the Mass He expects you now actually to give Him yourself. ...
... Such is the purpose of life! To redeem ourselves in union with Christ; to apply His merits to our souls by being like Him in all things, even to His death on the Cross. He passed through His consecration on the Cross that we might now pass through ours in the Mass. There is nothing more tragic in all the world than wasted pain.
Think of how much suffering there is in hospitals, among the poor, and the bereaved. Think also of how much of that suffering goes to waste! How many of those lonesome, suffering, abandoned, crucified souls are saying with our Lord at the moment of consecration, "This is my body. Take it"? And yet that is what we all should be saying at that second:
I GIVE MYSELF TO GOD. HERE IS MY BODY. TAKE IT. HERE IS MY BLOOD. TAKE IT. HERE IS MY SOUL, MY WILL, MY ENERGY, MY STRENGTH, MY PROPERTY, MY WEALTH-ALL THAT I HAVE. IT IS YOURS. TAKE IT! CONSECRATE IT! OFFER IT! OFFER IT WITH THYSELF TO THE HEAVENLY FATHER IN ORDER THAT HE, LOOKING DOWN ON THIS GREAT SACRIFICE, MAY SEE ONLY THEE, HIS BELOVED SON, IN WHOM HE IS WELL PLEASED. TRANSMUTE THE POOR BREAD OF MY LIFE INTO THY DIVINE LIFE; THRILL THE WINE OF MY WASTED LIFE INTO THY DIVINE SPIRIT; UNITE MY BROKEN HEART WITH THY HEART; CHANGE MY CROSS INTO A CRUCIFIX. LET NOT MY ABANDONMENT AND MY SORROW AND MY BEREAVEMENT GO TO WASTE. GATHER UP THE FRAGMENTS, AND AS THE DROP OF WATER IS ABSORBED BY THE WINE AT THE OFFERTORY OF THE MASS, LET MY LIFE BE ABSORBED IN THINE; LET MY LITTLE CROSS BE ENTWINED WITH THY GREAT CROSS SO THAT I MAY PURCHASE THE JOYS OF EVERLASTING HAPPINESS IN UNION WITH THEE.
"CONSECRATE THESE TRIALS OF MY LIFE WHICH WOULD GO UNREWARDED UNLESS UNITED WITH THEE; TRANSUBSTANTIATE ME SO THAT LIKE BREAD WHICH IS NOW THY BODY, AND WINE WHICH IS NOW THY BLOOD, I TOO MAY BE WHOLLY THINE. I CARE NOT IF THE SPECIES REMAIN, OR THAT, LIKE THE BREAD AND THE WINE I SEEM TO ALL EARTHLY EYES THE SAME AS BEFORE. MY STATION IN LIFE, MY ROUTINE DUTIES, MY WORK, MY FAMILY-ALL THESE ARE BUT THE SPECIES OF MY LIFE WHICH MAY REMAIN UNCHANGED; BUT THE OF MY LIFE, MY SOUL, MY MIND, MY WILL, MY HEART-TRANSUBSTANTIATE THEM, TRANSFORM THEM WHOLLY INTO THY SERVICE, SO THAT THROUGH ME ALL MAY KNOW HOW SWEET IS THE LOVE OF CHRIST. AMEN.
If you're in or near Washington, D.C., would you like to have a Dawn Patrol blog-reader party — or, ifyou're ablogger, just an old-fashioned blogger party — on the evening of Tuesday, May 29, around 7:30 p.m. or so? I was thinking we could meet up at a coffeehouse or pub, some laid-back place that serves food.
Should you be up for it, please leave your "ayes" and your meeting-place suggestions here, and leave your e-mail address so I can write invitees with my top-secret choice of location. Not planning a huge public shebang; the readers I invite will most likely be those I already know from their Dawn Patrol comments or their blogs. I just thought it would be fun for those of us who have been following one another's exploits online to finally meet.
For you early risers out there, I'll be discussing The Thrill of the Chaste at 6:40 a.m. this coming Monday on Gus Lloyd's "Seize the Day" show, on the Sirius Catholic Channel. I'll also give a sneak preview of my talk at next month's Chesterton Conference in St. Paul, Minn.: "The Girl Who Was Thirsty: How G.K. Chesterton Opened the Door to My Conversion."
Next week is also expected to bring the publication of :BustedHalo.com's interview with me, conducted by editor-in-chief Bill McGarvey, in both print and podcast form.
Bill is a friend from my rock-critic days; it was a delight being interviewed by him. He is a talented musician and songwriter with one of the most gorgeous voices of anyone I know; it always reminded me of the Hollies' Allan Clarke. Here's a creative video medley of songs that he performs with his backing band the Good Thieves (nice little Gospels reference, that) on his most recent release :Tell Your Mother; the last tune in the medley reminds me of the Byrds' "The Girl With No Name":
A reader writes that, his engagement having ended, he is now "back to the proverbial square 1 on another Web site, resigned to go through the whole process of being stood up, ignored, and made to jump through the same old hoops all over again."
I assume that he's talking about the experience of online personals, one which I know all too well. I wish I could say that I no longer belong to a personals site, but the last one I joined was like the "Catholic singles" version of a Roach Motel™. After charging me a small fortune for a "lifetime membership," it gave me no option to quit once I realized I was wasting my lifetime searching its membership. Now I am forever on the site's membership rolls as "temporarily inactive" — as though I plan at any moment to return to waste precious hours that I will never get back. No thanks.
My advice for anyone who is looking with dread at having to "go through the whole process" of online dating is to do an experiment, just for tonight.
During the time when you would normally sign on to a personals site and check your messages, don't; just let the messages sit. (Believe me, anyone who is truly interested in you will forgive you for taking a day to get back to them. If they fall in love with someone else in the meantime, you'll know it wasn't meant to be.)
Pick three requests from the first page of results. Click on each one, read the whole request, and then pray for the requester's intentions, according to God's will.
That's it.
I guarantee you that if you do that tonight, then tomorrow you will be closer to entering into a happy, lasting marriage than you would be if you spent the entire evening IMing someone on a personals site. What's more, you will be better prepared spiritually for meeting your spouse during the course of your everyday, non-websurfing life.
Planned Parenthood has always valued the right to lie over the right to life. The principle is apparent in their recent litigation threat against student journalist Lila Rose for exposing the organization's attempt to cover up child rape. Not surprisingly, to protect its deceptions the abortion provider is invoking the notion of "privacy" as it emanates from the penumbras of some technical provisions of the Califonia Penal Code.
PP's complaint is that Miss Rose recorded her own "confidential communication" with a counselor who told her to "figure out a birth date that works" to circumvent state laws governing the reporting of statutory rape. (Miss Rose, 18, had posed as an 15 year old impregnated by a 23 year old boyfriend). In most states, Rose's conduct would be perfectly legal – the majority have adopted "one party consent" eavesdropping statutes which permit the recording of any conversation so long as any party to it (including the party taping) consents. It's a sensible rule -- after all, "eavesdropping" traditionally involves snooping by an unknown thirty party. But absent some special privilege -- doctor/patient, lawyer/client -- one has no genuine expectation of privacy or confidentiality from a person with whom one voluntarily engages in conversation. Either side can publicize the discussion as broadly as desired. Even where some privilege exists, it generally only binds one side; the patient or client can reveal it freely.
And indeed, Miss Rose was and is perfectly entitled to tell anyone about her chat with the rape-concealing counselor. For all the carping in PP's whiny and disingenuous lawyer-letter, its legal claim is based narrowly on a violation of California's Invasion of Privacy Act, which actually has nothing whatsoever to do with privacy. Penal Code Section 632 prohibits recording, which Rose undeniably did, but nothing prohibited her from going undercover, procuring the counselor's incriminating statement and revealing its substance to the world in any non-electronic form. There was nothing remotely private about the exchange itself.
So what PP is seeking to protect is not its right to privacy but its right to lie effectively. Without the recording, PP would have denied the conversation entirely or claimed that Rose "misheard" or "misinterpreted" what was said. Now, however, it's been reduced to the pathetic claim that it was "manipulated" into violating the rape reporting statutes.
Rose has wisely agreed to return the tapes and thus end the legal aspect of the dispute, despite what I suspect might have been some effective statutory and First Amendment defenses. (Insofar as at least one California appeals court has rejected a free press claim by a television station which videotaped its sting of a physician misprescribing drugs, the litigation would have necessarily been protracted). But as Jill Stanek reports, Rose will be on The O'Reilly Factor tonight. Why PP invited the upcoming avalanche of negative publicity with its lawsuit threat is uncertain, but I have some idea. Most likely, it may be seeking to chill future investigations by spreading lies and confusion on a national forum. Watch for PP flacks who try to demonize Rose by suggesting that her undercover tactics were illegal -- they were not -- and by leaving the misimpression that recording conversations is generally unlawful, rather than just in California and a few other states. With the words "child rape" permeating the air it will certainly be a hard sell, perhaps even for an organization in the business of marketing death.
At the Archdiocese of New York's Young Adult Holy Hour last night in St. Patrick's beautiful Our Lady chapel, a thought came to me during Eucharistic Adoration that I didn't want to hear:
"Be thankful for your crosses."
I realized that if I want to have a closer walk with Jesus, I have to thank him for the burdens in my life, particularly the ones for which, for whatever reason, I lack the power to shed.
It's not a message that, I think, anyone particularly wants to hear, but I believe it's consistent with Scripture. More than that, I believe that if I heed it — really thank God for the crosses that I carry — it could help me have a deeper relationship with the Lord, because I will be better conformed to His will.
I also believe in praying for God to remove my crosses. But if He's taking His time doing so, perhaps it's because I haven't experienced them fully yet. The only way to do that is to be thankful for them, regardless of whether He gave them to me or whether they are my own fault. In either case, He permitted me to carry them.
Most of all, I plan to thank God today for my crosses because, while it's not unbiblical, it feels so wrong. It goes completely against what I want to pray, as do other scriptural imperatives, like praying for my enemies. And that's why I suspect it's what I need.
An interview I did with Bill Feltner of Pilgrim Radio airs today on the network's "His People" show. You can hear it online at pilgrimradio.com at 3:05 p.m. today and also 12:05 a.m. tomorrow Eastern time.
Reading a blog entry by Seraphic Single on her recent breakup with her boyfriend reminds me of my own breakup, not so long ago, one that was, like hers, sudden and unexpected.
It was the first time since my pre-Christian days — back when I suffered from depression — that I went through a breakup that wasn't my idea. Many of the familiar pains and fears re-emerged, like the wholly irrational yet frighteningly convincing fear that this relationship was the Last Time Ever that I will experience reciprocal more-than-physical attraction. So too came resentments, such as anger at God because marriage has thus far been denied me.
What's changed most obviously since I suffered from depression is that sadness, resentment, and loneliness don't deprive me of the will to live. That alone is something for which I'll always be grateful; healing from hopelessness remains the most visible fruit of the faith that transformed my life.
More than that, however, I take my breakup differently then I would have in the past, in that I have a certain resolve not to force any sense out of it. I'm not trying to convince myself that I won't make the same mistakes again (though that would be nice). Nor am I trying to focus on the relationship's many joyful moments. Those joyful moments now appear like a few golden threads woven into a mourning veil; they're meaningless when detached from the relationship's decidedly unhappy ending. The closest thing to a positive message that can be derived from the experience is that I didn't marry someone who clearly was not the one God intended for me.
Once the burden of finding an instructive moral in it is removed, the breakup becomes meaningful, because my pain is reduced to its basic elements.
I need to be reminded of my dependence upon God for everything. Feeling hurt and lonely reminds me of that dependence. In order to more deeply experience God's love, I need to be loving towards others. But if I'm to be loving towards others, I can't be bitter. To not be bitter, I need to shed my resentment towards those who have hurt me, as well as my resentment towards God.
Essentially, then, for me, the major difference between experiencing romantic disappointment without faith and experiencing it with faith is a refusal to increase in bitterness. It may seem easier to slide into bitterness than to fight its onset, but I've experienced enough bitterness to know that it's not a condition in which I would want to remain — not if there's the slightest chance I might instead learn to better love my neighbor.
The other day, I spoke on the phone with an 80-year-old man who contacted me after reading an interview I gave. He told me that he and his wife were touched by what I said about God's plan for marital love.
The caller went on to tell me that his wife was bedridden following an aneurysm — one which the doctors had believed would kill her, except that it didn't. She remained the love of his life. He spoke feelingly of how he loved every moment of caring for her.
As I listened to the man, I thought about how I longed to be in a marriage fueled by that kind of love. But more than that, I realized, when I am 80, I want to be able to have that kind of love, period. Whether I am taking care of my husband or being cared for by him, or whether I am unmarried and in the company of friends, family, or strangers, I want to be able to love other people the way that Jesus loves me.
Pursuing such an ideal, in and of itself, still doesn't make the aftermath of a breakup easier. At the same time, there is something strangely comforting in the idea that, when I am feeling emotionally overburdened, I may yet withstand an additional cross.
Some of my favorite moments since my breakup are times when I was being present for others in their needs. Those times haven't been frequent enough, to be sure, but they gave me opportunities to grow more human.
Really, the most obvious reason for why one would have to go through a breakup, as with any pain, is to be better able to console others. As to why such pain should exist in the first place, well, there's the first few chapters of Genesis to explain that one. Better yet, there's the non-explanation given by the Book of Job, of which G.K. Chesterton said, "The refusal of God to explain His design is itself a burning hint of His design. The riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man."
The Halifax Chronicle Herald has an article remembering the mother of the Canadian Anglican blogger known as Binky the WebElf. Susan Jane Taylor was killed when the car in which she was a passenger crashed on Mother's Day, also her 65th birthday.
Binky has an entry about her on his blog, along with a link to another blog where condolences may be left. Please pray for him and everyone touched by this horrible tragedy.
"Part memoir, part self-help guide, The Thrill of the Chaste provides a joyous rebuttal to a culture obsessed with sex. ...
"The autobiographical scenes are beautifully and humorously written, inspiring sympathy and admiration. Some of the best pars of the book are the scenes that discuss heart-wrenching breakups with unflinching irony, coupled with musings on how Eden uses these unpleasant experiences to determine what she truly wants out of a relationship. ... Passages that focus on her adoption of Christian sexual ethics draw heavily on personal experience, allowing her defense of chastity to be more heartfelt than preachy as she sets about demolishing Helen Gurley Brown's legacy.
"This book is geared for adults, but parents will find it an invaluable resource for teaching their children about the emotional dangers of sex. ... An effective argument for chastity has to explain why, whatever feelings of pleasure unsanctified intercourse might provide, these are far outweighed by the damage that the 'it's just sex' mentality inflicts, leaving people bereft and unfulfilled.
"One of the biggest hurdles toward advancing the virtues of a chaste lifestyle is the widely accepted dichotomy between the notion that people who engage in wanton sex are mentally healthy and 'sexually liberated,' and the idea that people who abstein are 'sexually repressed' and only refrain due to some unresolved neurosis. Eden brilliantly illustrates how what is commonly defined as 'liberation' is really a kind of enslavement, since in order to participate in this lifestyle, one has to set up all sorts of emotional and psychological barricades, the likes of which, she reports from experience, are very difficult to overcome. Similarly, by presenting the happiness and self-respect gained from chastity, she punctures the lie that abstinence is unnatural and unhealthy."
— Christopher Chan reviews The Thrill of the Chaste for Gilbert, the American Chesterton Society magazine (review is not online). Come see me next month at the Chesterton Society conference in St. Paul, Minn.
"The world needs transparent lives, clear souls, pure minds that refuse to be perceived as mere objects of pleasure. It is necessary to oppose those elements of the media that ridicule the sanctity of marriage and virginity before marriage."
WASHINGTON DC, May 14 — Stunned by a video showing a frail, 91-year old women's rights organization being tricked into the non-reporting of a statutory rape, Sen. Henry Waxman (D.-Ca) has proposed a bill to prohibit the surreptitious taping of what actually goes on in Planned Parenthood abortion clinics.
In the tape, UCLA student journalist Lila Rose visits a Planned Parenthood center posing as a 15-year-old impregnated by her 23-year-old boyfriend. There, an employee counsels Rose to lie about her age to obtain an abortion without the clinic having to report the statutory rape to the police. "You could say 16 . . . just figure out a birth date that works," said the counselor.
Kathy Kneer, president and CEO of Planned Parenthood Affiliates of California expressed outrage that Rose and her male accomplice conspired to "manipulate" and "discredit" the aging abortion provider. "It's bad enough that our senior citizens are routinely fleeced of their savings by sweepstakes, home repair and mortgage scams," she said. "But now they're being robbed of their very dignity by unscrupulous individuals who con them into violating rape reporting laws." Tracy Clark-Flory of Salon.com's Broadsheet likewise condemned the "undercover attack" on the elderly non-profit, who is living on a fixed income of $272.7 million in governmental subsidies.
To combat the problem, Senator Waxman has proposed "Maggie's Law." Named for Planned Parenthood's eugenicist founder Margaret Sanger, the legislation would prohibit the creation or dissemination of any videotape of an entrapped abortion facilitator failing to report child rape. Noting that that many elderly victims decline to report scams against them out of a sense of shame, Waxman said "it would be terrible if the mere failure to report a crime became a source of humiliation, particularly where the offense itself is procured by a conniving little jailbait temptress." The Senator pointed to a lawsuit in which Planned Parenthood is being forced to defend itself against charges that it provided an abortion and bill control pills to a girl impregnated by her father without contracting the authorities.
A draft amendment to the bill would also prohibit the broadcast of MSNBC Dateline's To Catch A Predator -- on the theory that the exposure of the identities of men who seduce prepubescent minors in internet chat rooms might lead to embarrassing publicity for Planned Parenthood if the girls are later brought to its clinics for remedial measures. However, the law would not affect Waxman's own undercover attacks on crisis pregnancy centers, insofar as those organizations "are also dedicated to the humiliation and impoverishment of Planned Parenthood."
[Editor's note: For those who didn't catch on, the preceding is satire, written by a guest blogger.]
