Thanksgiving

As if it is not pathetic enough that we only have one day out of the entire year set aside for feeling grateful, our society seems intent on trying to forget even this measly twenty-four hours. Thus the scary Halloween props give way to joyful and slightly absurd Christmas decorations with nary a mention of Gratitude-Day. I have met more people holding a religious fervor for Black Friday than I have those who give thanks on Thanksgiving. Therefore, to be completely counter-cultural and completely in the spirit of perpetual gratitude to Our Lord, I write this blog post the day after Thanksgiving.

There are a million and three things that I can thank God for this year. I can thank him for my health, my family, my friends, my house, my truck, my career, and my education. And finding that there is an awful lot of “my”s in there, I can express a deeper, less mundane thankfulness for my life, for His forgiveness, and for my Faith. However, I think the greatest thing I can thank God for, as a Catholic—other than being Catholic in the first place, of course—is the Eucharist. Think about it.

God not only created us, He loved us so much He died for us. And not only did He die for us, but He allows us to be present, right here, right now, at that greatest moment in history. The Mass is an Immortal Moment. During it, God picks us all up, transcends time, and places us at the foot of Calvary. Jesus’ redeeming death was not some event that happened a long time ago and which is now gone. We witness it every Sunday. WE ARE THERE. And we actively participate in it. Just as the Passover sacrifice was not complete until the Paschal lamb was consumed, so is consuming the New Paschal Lamb an integral part of Jesus’ Sacrifice. This, friends, is the Eucharist. It would be the greatest blasphemy of all time if God Himself had not sanctioned and commanded it. (No wonder the Protestants are up in arms, eh?) Catholics eat God. There you have it, plain and simple. We consume Jesus. Don’t cringe! If a mother pelican feeds her babies her own flesh to keep them from starving, how much greater will God’s love be for us? Is it so strange, in the light of Love and History, for the Eucharist to be…well, the Eucharist? Not at all.

This Thanksgiving, I thank God for the Eucharist. Thank You, Jesus, for allowing us to actively participate in Your Testament of Love for us. Thank You for being with us—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—in every Tabernacle throughout the world. Thank You for loving us more than pelicans do their chicks. It must be a long and lonely wait there in the cold, with few souls willing to visit You, our Divine Prisoner. Thank you for your Immortal Sacrifice, and please help me to fully understand and appreciate it. Amen.

(…Are you grateful? Do you ever visit the Perpetual Adoration chapel, or visit Jesus outside of Mass? Please join me spiritually, my brothers and sisters in Christ, before Jesus in the Tabernacle today. And if you can’t, pray for me on Sunday. I’ll be praying for you!)

BadCatholic on Feminism

So, I found a new pal in my crusade against feminism. BadCatholic beat me to posting such a rant on the interweb, as I found out earlier today. His post is similar to mine, but has a slightly different approach, so I highly suggest you find out how feminists are stupid.

That might sound cruel, but, frankly, it is true. Maybe. I have long suspected that such a level of ignorance is impossible, and that feminists are being illogical on purpose because they hate women. What feminists would like us to believe, is that they are rescuing women from the degrading mentality of men. What actually happened was this: Men said women are morally and mentally inferior, and feminists responded, "You're right! We are inferior, and you are superior. Let's all become men." Feminism is the worst thing that happened to women. That is it an ironic and stupid cause, you, reader, cannot grasp fully enough.

Now, in case you are thinking that this marks the end of my anti-anti-woman harping, rest assured that I am readying more posts for the Hidden Battles. I fully intend to explain how women should be treated if they are appreciated as women, and what happens when we don't treat them as women. So keep an eye out!

Feed the Hungry

We are all obliged to do it. Do you do it? If so (or if not...) then check out Fish Out Of Water's upcoming magazine. Entertainment, job prospects, and Food for the Poor. Do I need another reason to support this project? Nope! So, if you want to read more of my writing, subscribe to

Patchwork!

Princess Lessons

In a break from the subject of Feminism, I present to you a post by Ana Marx. Enjoy!

“The traditional princesses are bad role models! The only thing your daughter
will learn from watching princess movies/reading fairy tales is that she must be
pretty, complacent, and catch her a nice hunk of man-meat before she turns 20 if
she wants to accomplish anything.”

I can't tell you how many times I've heard that. To tell the truth, I'm quite sick of it. I don't understand why it's such a terrible thing to be virtuous now. Why is it a modern sin to be patient, long-suffering, or obedient? These are put on the same level as smoking, drunk driving, and violent intolerance, if you think about it. But let's leave that alone, because I know it's just too radical to cite virtues as, well, virtues. But I digress.

I've learned some quite radical lessons - aside from those unspeakable virtues - about dating and life in general from these "poor, oppressed women." You know what else? Princess stories don't just apply to girls, but they have pretty good tips for guys too, as you'll see.

(*A note of warning, these are the REAL princesses; not Disney's oft-times really messed up Princesses.)

Belle

Supposedly teaches: Abusive relationships are awesome!

Real lessons: Girls, happiness is a choice, whether you live in a hovel or a castle. Guys, chicks dig gentlemen, and even if you're ugly as sin, you'll have a pretty good chance with the ladies if you keep that in mind.

Snow White

Supposedly teaches: Cohabitation is where it's at.

Real lessons: Girls, beauty is only skin-deep. The Queen was beautiful too, but the only thing anyone remembers about her was that she was an evil witch. Guys, living in a pig sty isn't good for your love life. Did Snow White marry one of the dwarfs? That's right, she didn't.

The Little Mermaid

Supposedly teaches: Plastic surgery is a great way to get someone's attention.

Real lessons: Girls, if you can't get a guy to love you for who you are, no amount of change on your part is really gonna make him fall for you. Because if you change, he's falling for the imaginary girl that you've created. Besides, he's not worth your time if there's a chance you'll turn into sea-foam. Guys, pretty girls are just as capable of lying as the next guy. Try to keep that in mind the next time someone claims to have saved your life.

Cinderella

Supposedly teaches: You will never escape your boring life without Prince Charming.

Real lessons: Girls, don't be afraid to break a few rules to get what you want. Just remember that everything has consequences, and you've gotta deal with them like an adult if you're gonna break 'em in the first place. Guys, finding someone by their shoe size is not a good idea. 'Nough said.

Rapunzel

Supposedly teaches: You should always marry the first guy you set eyes on.

Real lessons: Girls, if a guy doesn't stick around when the going gets tough, he's a big waste of your time. Guys, sometimes you gotta deal with some terrible things to get the girl of your dreams. But don't worry! Unlike this prince, you probably won't get your eyes gauged out. Probably.

Feminists Hate Women

Am I the only Catholic who has heard that irksome accusation against the Church—that She hates women? Apparently, She is anti-woman because She does not condone the use of birth control, or allow women to be priests. She even has the nerve to proclaim that men are the head of family, while wives must be submissive to their husbands. In defending my Faith, I, too, have received a share of these accusations, as any good Catholic will. Many people who have not met me assume that I am a guy, because I myself so obviously do not champion any of our modern feminists’ ideas. And when they learn I am a woman, they cry, “You are a traitor to women!” It is an accusation that I have heard many times over the course of my four-year pro-life, Catholic career. So, I am writing today to turn the tables and propose a scandalizing and appallingly apparent idea: that it is, in fact, our modern feminists who hate women.




Yes, they hate women. They despise that gender so much, that they want to turn them all into men. It is not enough for women to be equal with men; they—in the mind of our dear feminists—must be the same as men. Women cannot be submissive to men, but the men must instead be submissive to the women. For this reason do we see the fathers as fumbling bafoons in all our children’s cartoons and movies, while the mothers are the parent in control. Forget that men are commanded to love their wives as Christ loves His Church (and this is no small command, for Christ’s love was a sacrificing one). That isn’t good enough for feminists. They will not be satisfied until the women take on the full role of the men. Hence, we have such arguments as “It’s good for a child to have two mommies!” while women who stay at home to raise and school the kiddos are scoffed at.

While walking in the store, my aunt was once asked the question, “Oh, are all these children yours?” “Why, yes, all four of them are!” she responded proudly, only to receive the reply: “I’m so sorry.” As if motherhood—that fundamental aspect of womanhood—was something to be regretted.

For the same reason do feminists want women to be priests. Forget that women have their own special and unique role as religious sisters. Again, that isn’t good enough. They must be exactly like the men.

It is self-evident, I think, why this is an anti-woman view. If I were to tell you that I was a 70s rock fanatic; that I adored the low, harmonic voices, repetitive and clear beats, simple drum pieces, all tied together with the clever use of a synthesizer… you might believe me that I loved 70s rock. But if I immediately turned around and began to complain that the singer needs to scream more, that there needs to be less synth and more distorted guitar, and that the music needs to be much louder and harder, would you really believe that I loved 70s rock? Or would you come to the conclusion that I needed to purchase a heavy metal CD and shut up?
The latter, undoubtedly, because one cannot claim to love something, and yet wish to change said something fundamentally. You cannot love something, and deny everything that something is. You either love it as it is, or you do not love it at all. Feminists hate women because they do not love women as women; they love them as men.

Not only does this betray a loathing of women as such, but such a mentality will truly make women lose all value. While it is true that men and women are equal in value, it is also true that they are opposites, and so find their identity in being opposites. How can one appreciate the light if they have never experienced darkness, or vice versa? Likewise, how can one appreciate warmth, if they have never experienced cold? Or music, if they’ve never known a lack thereof? They can’t. In each case, the two opposites are directly connected. They can be known through their existence AND their partner’s existence. They are as much defined by what they are not, as by what they are. It is the same with men and women. Women are not men, and it is in this very difference that we find their value. Banishing the difference between the genders would be to degrade them both. If the interest of feminists is to turn women into men, then it is the interest of feminists to devalue women, and so truly can I say that feminists hate women.

Sins of Omission

Okay, so it’s Saturday afternoon, and I am examining my conscience to make certain that I don’t need to go to Confession before Mass tomorrow. Like always, I go through the Ten Commandments. “No, I have not used God’s Name in vain. No, I haven’t murdered anybody. No, I haven’t been sassy to my parents…” After going through the entire examination of conscience booklet and responding “no” to all the little questions, I begin to think I have been doing pretty well. I haven’t done anything very bad or even anything sort of bad. In fact, I haven’t done anything at all. At that moment, I remember hearing once or twice that odd little phrase: Sins of Omission. Uh-oh.

Sins of Omission, in case you are unaware, are all those things which we should have done, but didn’t do. It means—as I so often need to be reminded—that ours is not a faith of passivity but of activity. The Commandments aren’t a list of “Thou shalt nots.” There are those in there which obviously call us, not to refrain from bad things, but to do good things. “Honor thy mother and father,” is not just a command to not lie to them, or not steal from them, or to not argue with them. Even those which say “No” are merely another way of saying “Yes.” To not bear false witness against our neighbor doesn’t mean to simply refrain from deceiving them; it obliges us to provide them with the truth in all things, to educate them, and to be fair in all our dealings with them. In short, it means to love them. In fact, Love is the ultimate calling of us all. And Love isn’t passive. It is a verb.



I hope I’m the only Catholic who needs to be reminded of this, because that would mean the rest of Catholics are fairly well off; but I seriously doubt that I am. See, there are a lot of Protestants out there, and even Catholic apologists, apparently, can be affected by sola fide. Yes, I think Catholics are affected by sola fide—that Lutheran belief that claims works do not matter for your salvation, but only your faith. If you have faith, these non-Catholics say, you are fine. And whether you are a second Mother Theresa or a lazy Refrainer, it doesn’t make a difference. Yet, Faith is not listed as the greatest of the virtues—Love is. We are called to Love. That four letter verb means action! It means to get off our duff and work! If you truly love your wife, or your husband, are you going to simply entertain warm fuzzy emotions about them? Or are you going to show them your love by doing things for them? If you truly love your children, are you going to stop at not abusing them? Or are you going to hug them, hold them, and try to give them the world? To Love means to go about visiting the people in prison, to feed the hungry, to take care of the sick, to teach children to read, and to donate clothes to people who can’t afford any of their own (sound familiar?). In fact, if we don’t do these things—if we merely sit on our duff pondering a general good will toward our fellow man—we will be rejected by Christ with the rest of the goats. These works are not a side-effect of Love. They are not physical evidence of Love. They are Love. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying (as some would accuse me of) that we work our way to heaven by our lonesome. Hardly. That we can Love God at all is—with our sinful, selfish, fallen natures—a miraculous act of the Lord. What I am saying is that our work is our Love, and our Love is our Faith, and that without these verbs we are goners.

“But I do do things,” we automatically cry in our defense. “I mean, I go to Mass every Sunday, and give 10% of my income to the Church, and I go to Confession and Communion at least once a year. I do do things!” But, there’s a flaw here, because we are doing the bare minimum. Would you do the bare minimum to help your kids? No. If you loved them, you’d try to give them the world. Then why do we take this “bare-minimum” stance in our relationship with God? If we truly Love God with all our heart mind and souls, then every moment of our lives is going to be a work in His service. If you haven’t had a conversion of heart—if your life isn’t one giant work for the Lord by being a long series of small works for Him—then your Love and your Faith are imperfect. You’ve misunderstood the meaning of a “verb”. And you really need to confess all those sins of omission! So, that is all for now. I’m off to Confession.





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Note to Readers: I use the word "Protestant," here and elsewhere in a very general way. I know there is no one set of beliefs that Protestants uniformly believe, and that they differ on a million little points. So, I use the word to describe any non-Catholic Christian who disagrees on such-and-such point with the Church. Please forgive the imprecise terminology, or my perhaps imperfect pairing of beliefs with the word "Protestant." It might not apply to you specifically... but it does apply to some Protestants.

Saint Francis Wasn't Vegan

Today is October 4th, the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi and so, being a Franciscan at heart, I just had to write blog post about him. Everyone, I think, is familiar with Saint Francis; common iconography depicts the friar in a brown robe, looking gentle and sweet, as doves flock around him. Stories are told of how he preached to his feathered friends and tamed a wild wolf. He is portrayed merely as a quiet and simple man who loved animals and nature. As an eighth grade catechism booklet I had the misfortune of picking up once said: he’s the patron saint of Environmentalism… right? No. Yet, to my immense disappointment, this seems to be an impression not at all rare. Lots of people miss the entire “point” of Saint Francis. Hence, this blog post.


Saint Francis was born in Assisi in 1182 and was named Giovanni Bernardone by his mother, after Saint John the Baptist. However, his father, Peter Bernardone, was a wealthy cloth merchant who despised his son being named after a wandering hermit in rags. Therefore, little Giovanni was granted the nickname “Francesco,” after the country in which Peter made his fortune— France.

Francesco was a very materialistic young man, and was encouraged in this by his father. However, one day while pursuing a worldly dream of obtaining glory in battle, Francesco was subject to a vision. He heard a voice ask him where he intended to go. As Francesco began to describe his grandiose plans, the voice interrupted him.

“Who can do more good for you—the master or the servant?”
“The master,” Francesco replied.
“Then why are you abandoning the master for the servant, the patron for the client?”
“Sir, what do you want me to do?”
“Go back to your own home and you will be told what to do. You must understand in another way the vision you had.”

Another marvelous exchange followed the first, and while the young man was praying in a dilapidated church known as San Damiano the crucifix above the abandoned altar came alive. The crucified Christ spoke to the twenty three year old, saying. "Francesco, don’t you see that my house is being destroyed? Go, then, and rebuild it for me."
Taking this literally, Francesco began a somewhat eccentric mission to do just that, taking and selling some of his father's cloth to raise money for San Damiano. Tension within the family grew as Peter Bernardone became increasingly angry with his son, whom he considered a thief and whose religious fervor he viewed as an embarrassment. To abbreviate a lengthy series of events, I’ll only say that it ended with Francesco disinheriting himself. There is no evidence that Francesco was ever reconciled with his family.


Thus began the second life of Francesco Bernardone, the life of a holy beggar. And thus we see the first virtue worthy of imitation in Francis: poverty.
Possessionless and content that way, he wore a plain brown robe with no shoes. He did not own anything, even the smallest shelter, but slept in doorways and under the starry sky. When other men began to follow him and it became necessary to find a more permanent place to sleep, even then did Francesco insist that the buildings and land not be theirs. His followers--known as the Friars Minor--were not permitted to beg for more than what they would require for that day. The life of these missionaries was a life of extreme poverty. I would like to think that I could live that way (though I probably couldn't) because there is so much to gain from owning nothing. We cannot rely on our own material wealth, but are forced to depend on God for our daily bread. The poor must trust in the Lord much more than the rich! Also, we are free from distractions--like facebook and television and worry--and have more time for Our Lord. Francesco would often remove himself from the world to meditate and to pray. How holy would we be if we could leave behind work and family to spend time in Adoration each day and night? Francesco also practiced poverty of education. Though he was more learned than most in his time, he was never well educated. He also did not permit his Friars to own books and, according to tradition, did not wish to join the Friars Minors with the Order of Preachers because he did not want his Brothers to be very educated. Education is a sore temptation. Oh, yes, God gave us our minds and our reason, and we most certainly should use them. However, education can be a grave hindrance to one’s spiritual well being. Here’s my logic: if one is extremely educated, they may come to believe that they know everything there is to know. A person who is used to knowing everything will be hard-pressed to admit that they are wrong, or that there is something they are ignorant of. Can you see how trust in God would be difficult, then? Perhaps that is why so many atheists seem such educated men: their education has led to a pride which keeps them from admitting that they do not know all and that there could be certain mysteries they will never understand.





Francesco was not only a model of poverty; he was a model of suffering. Self-imposed suffering, like that of poverty and fasting and being exposed to the elements, were everyday trials for him. In addition, he was often struck down by recurrent bouts of malaria, chronic gastritis, a gastric ulcer that refused to heal, a terrible eye infection and bad eyesight, and, some say, leprosy. He also had the Stigmata—and for those of you who don’t know what that is, it is the wounds of Christ in one’s hands, feet, and side. Saint Padre Pio had the Stigmata as well, and since he lived more recently, we have pictures:


Saint Francesco, like Padre Pio, received his Stigmata during a vision, in 1224. Some accounts say he not only bore the wounds of Christ in his feet, but also the nails themselves. Saint Francis lived with the Stigmata for two years, until his death at the age of 44. His suffering provides us with other examples of holiness and virtue. The first is patience. A man who is ill-burdened in life, weighted down by his personal cross, must be patient in order to endure. The second is humility. This is most obvious in illnesses which, like Francesco's as the end, require one to be cared for by others. This dependency shows us how weak we truly are as human beings, and helps us to learn dependency on God as well. Suffering also provides the cross-bearer with sympathy for his fellow man, the weak, and the struggling. Finally, the best part of suffering as Saint Francis did is that one is able to teach others these virtues. And if people don't pay attention? No matter. Offer the graces up for the souls in Purgatory, women considering abortions, priests, the conversion of sinners, etc. How many people one can help by giving to others the graces they have earned! From Saint Francis, we can learn to suffer well. If we do as he did, we will learn the above virtues, too!

Now, is the point of this post to say that Saint Francis didn't really like animals? No, not at all. I'm sure he did. But I think it would be wrong to say that he loved animals for their sake. Francesco liked animals because they were God’s creatures. Just as an artist reveals himself through his artwork, so does God reveal Himself through His Creation. One can come to know certain aspects of God by studying the animals, then, and trees, and bugs, etc. Francesco also used the animals to make a point. When the people wouldn’t listen to him, he’d turn to the animals and preach. “See! Even the dumb birds know their Creator and praise Him! Why don’t you?” So, the animals weren’t valuable in themselves; they were valuable insofar as they taught human beings about God, and I maintain that view today. There was very little tree-hugging in Francesco’s day, and Saint Francis wasn’t vegan. That is the point of this post. There is so much to learn from Saint Francis that it would be silly to know him as only the effeminate dude who talked to the birdies.



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If you’d like to know more about Saint Francis, I suggest:
“The perfect Joy of Saint Francis,” by Felix Timmermans
“Reluctant Saint,” by Daniel Spoto
“Novena,” by Barbara Calamari & Sandra DiPasqua
And of course “The Rule of Saint Francis,” by the man himself