For two months or so now, I've been attending Mass at home with my father. We go to the chapel of a nearby university where my father sings in the choir. The chapel has a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere, and people are always friendly there, whether they saw you last week, or they've never seen you before in their lives. As a college student I appreciate that, because college means a lot of unknowns and new beginnings, which are hard enough under the best circumstances. And let's face it, it wouldn't hurt for more people to behave more kindly.
However, this is not typically an experience I enjoy. I do my best to appreciate the Eucharist, but most everything else is hit or miss. The sermons, the music, the congregation, and sometimes even the vestments or where Mass is said (the chapel when it's cool, the adjoining lecture hall when it's hot) all carry the possibility of arousing my ire. I have a growing mental catalogue of faults to which I add each week, which includes but is not limited to: fluff homilies, contemporary, anti-Catechism, anti-people-with-any-appreciation-of-good-music hymns, people talking whenever the priests aren't, people in shorts, mini-skirts, flip-flops, and t-shirts, and a general lack of knowledge or reverence for what exactly is taking place.
I find that Mass in the Archdiocese of Washington has spoiled me. There is almost always beautiful music, reverent worshipers, orthodox priests, appropriate dress, and an acute understanding of what we're doing and why we're here to do it. I have attended Masses celebrated by two cardinals, at least two monsignors, and several outstanding priests, at some of the loveliest churches I have ever been in. Like I say, Washington has spoiled me. There are a preponderance of things there that I am sure I will never find in my home diocese, and with each week home, I find that more and more troubling.
However, I find that not only are Masses here bad for my senses, I also allow them to be bad for my soul. In Simcha Fisher's first blog post at the National Catholic Register, she addressed how many people (herself included) suffer through the occasional ugly Mass. Maybe the building is ugly, or the music is awful, but whatever it is, as commenter and fellow NCR blogger Stephen D. Greydanus notes, one is tempted to think "I am being crucified with Christ". Then she stops to think (as I have never once done) "Christ is here, and if He can stand it, so can I". Jesus Christ is present at every Mass, and if He can take whatever ugliness is there (which is a lot, what with all that "being perfect" people claim He does), then we can do the same.
I've mentioned before that I struggle with pride. This is nothing new to me, or to anyone who knows me, but Ms. Fisher's revelation certainly was. I find that too often I walk around like the Pharisee in Luke 18:9-14, saying "Lord, I thank you that I am not like these other dopes, who go around sinning all the time, and have no sense of what is proper in Catholicism; I confess weekly, and wouldn't be caught dead getting drunk and hooking up", and these ugly Masses certainly help to bring out the worst in me. And that is definitely not something I'm proud of. I catch myself doing it every week, and am quick to go "Wow, Lord, that sure was nasty and condescending... um... yeah, I'm really sorry about that, so can we just start over?" I then promptly return to doing exactly what I was doing before I caught myself.... again. This is a cycle that repeats a couple of times every Sunday, and frankly, I'm surprised that I find the time to pay attention in there.
But, I suspect that Simcha is right when she says that a little bit of ugliness is good for us. It's not good while it's happening, but it is good when we return to our regularly scheduled regimen of beauty. When I experience something beautiful and transcendent, my thoughts are immediately lifted to God to thank Him for the wondrous gift of beauty. A piece of great music, a breathtaking sight, or words that speak straight to my heart are all personal means of experiencing God in my life, and at the very least I'm not dumb enough not to appreciate that. I imagine, also, that when I go back to Washington to be liturgically re-spoiled, I will appreciate the ugliness I'm experiencing now because it allows me to appreciate the beauty that much more.
Finally, and this has nothing to do with beauty or ugliness, part of the beauty which I am able to appreciate now is the existence of the internet, which has led me to the National Catholic Register, and specifically to Simcha Fisher's blog (which is hilarious, witty, and Catholic in the best way). I hereby recommend that everyone have a look at the Register, and/or Simcha's blog, just because I like them so darn much.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Do's and Don'ts of (Catholic) Restaurant Patronage
I've been working in a local restaurant for the past month or so, and it's been a good experience so far. It's taught me patience and persevering kindness, and re-taught me the value of a dollar, though it's also tested my propensity to gossip and generally be unkind about people when they are unkind or uncooperative. It is usually not so much a test when these things are happening as after they happen, since it is the job of every employee in a restaurant to be as kind and cooperative with the patrons as possible. However, I will admit that the challenge oftentimes comes more from the attitude and actions of the patrons than from my own temperament. Sometimes, as my uncle who also works in food service says, "people suck". I know, though, that many people don't get taught what to do in a restaurant, as well as what not to do, so I'm doing do's and don'ts that your restaurant staff won't tell you, but will definitely appreciate, but with a Catholic twist.
Do: Try to be friendly when you come in. We work very hard to make the restaurant atmosphere a pleasant and welcoming one, not just because then you'll spend more money, but mostly because we do actually want you to enjoy being there. Smile at the hosts and servers, and even feel free to make a corny joke (we'll always give an obligatory chuckle). You're the unknown in this situation, so if you're friendly and at ease with us, our friendliness goes from automated to genuine pretty fast.
Don't: Try to be fake friendly or sour when you come in. We know what automated friendliness looks like (we're likely a lot better at it than you), and it's sort of awkward when patrons do it. We're always smiling and trying to make your experience a good one, and if you come in with a dour attitude, it makes everyone's life harder. Nobody likes a sour puss, and you certainly wouldn't appreciate it if that's how we acted.
Catholic Twist: When you're making an effort to be genuinely friendly, you're showing a little bit of Christ's love to people who are working just as hard as you do with a lot of the same life pressures. While we basically operate under the "love your neighbor as yourself" principle all the time, it is much easier to do when our neighbor is trying to love us as well. Also, being dour tempts us to gossip and be uncharitable toward you in other ways, and it effects your experience negatively as well. "But rather, love your enemies and do good to them... then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as (also) your Father is merciful." (Lk 6:35-36)
Do: Cooperate with your server. Since you just walked in, you may or may not have taken a cursory glance at your surroundings, but please do. Try to see if your section (all of which your server is taking care of) is full, noisy, or occupied by troublesome patrons. Either way, please be kind to and cooperative with your server. Yes, it is his/her job to take your order/bring you sustenance/smile and check up on you/bring your check, but he or she will likely be trying their darndest to give you the best possible service, and that deserves some cooperation. Remember, the word is server, not servant.
Don't: Tell the host/server that you're in a rush, and need to be out by x-o-clock. If you're coming to eat at a sit down restaurant, the staff assumes that you have budgeted enough time to eat there. We also assume that you know about this crazy phenomenon that occasionally strikes restaurants, called getting busy. Please, please do not come in and order anyone to serve you immediately because it's 6:15, and you absolutely must be out of here by 7:30. Even if the restaurant isn't packed, time still needs to be allowed for the cooking and preparation of your food. Rushing us makes things come out poorly and creates unnecessary stress. And if the restaurant is busy, rushing your server will cause him or her to neglect the other patrons, which will aggravate them.
Catholic Twist: The root of this do and don't is humility. To enter any business and demand immediate service because you have something you need to do is the height of arrogance. It tells the staff that servicing you is more important than running their business effectively, and the other clientele that your business is more important than theirs. If you had truly thought about your time constraints and whether or not you had the time for dinner at a sit-down restaurant, you would likely have been humble enough to choose to go to McDonald's instead of making a hassle elsewhere. "For pride is the reservoir of sin, a source which runs over with vice..." (Sir 10:13)
Do: Ask your server for a few recommendations. Everyone in a restaurant except the busboy and the dish washer are required to know the menu items and their ingredients. If you don't know what you want to eat, you can ask any one of us what's good, and we'll tell you, though to be fair, we'll usually tell you our favorites unless you ask about a specific category of food. But if you want a couple of choices straight from the source, there is no better asset than your server (and remember, this is part of his or her job).
Don't: Order something you've never had, and send it back if you don't like it. Never had a particular cut of steak or ethnic-inspired dish before? Go ahead, try it. Expand your palate by trying something new. But for the love of all that is good, do not send the meal back to the kitchen if you discover you don't like it. This is unfair and wasteful, and you're not going to get another meal without having to pay for it. It doesn't matter if you only had three bites, because the restaurant had to pay for the food, the resources and people to cook it, and for the time the server spent waiting on you. If you're not sure you'll like it, order the burger or the pasta.
Catholic Twist: This set is more about consideration of the people serving you. Not just your server, but the kitchen staff, and even the managers. Yes, the server has to spend more time on you listening to your complaints and getting you a meal you will actually eat, but the cooks have to make more food, the dish washer has to wash more, and the managers (who have a bottom line to watch) won't appreciate having to throw away perfectly good food. This causes unnecessary frustration for everyone involved, and neither we nor you will be tempted to be charitable with or about each other in this situation. "A word is the source of every deed; a thought, of every act. The root of all conduct is the mind..." (Sir 37:16-17)
Do: Be considerate of your server. Taking care of you is your server's job, but only part of it. The rest includes, but is not limited to, bussing and setting tables, and serving at least three or four other tables, cleaning the area they're working in, and probably some side work they split with the rest of the staff. They are working on a schedule, and there is only so much time they have in which to do all the work they've been assigned for the day. If you are pleasant and minimally obtrusive, it makes the server's job that much easier.
Don't: Demand an inordinate amount of your server's time or attention. Like I said, your server has a job to do of which taking care of you is only a part. This is not to say that you should not interact with your server at all, but if you don't need to, you probably shouldn't. Don't worry, nobody will think you're some sort of introverted freak, they'll probably just assume you're too busy enjoying your meal or your company to bother the server.
Catholic Twist: Some people seem to forget that even though they're enjoying leisure time at a restaurant, the staff is not. It's not that we dislike being there, but it is our job. And since we're at work, we are required to be industrious. Like most people, even if we're at work, we might not exactly want to be industrious, but we have to be. Taking up a lot of our time allows us to neglect our other work and indulge in sloth, which will have no repercussions for you, but if it happens enough times, it could certainly spell trouble for us. St. Paul advises that those who do not work should also not eat, do you really want that for your server?
Do: Report actual problems or legitimately atrocious service to the manager. He or she should know if a table or chair is broken, or if there is some equally serious problem in the restaurant that needs to be taken care of. Also, if your server or host is rude, surly, slow, inattentive, and ignoring you, that is something the manager could best address with that individual to make it stop. Managers, staff, and patrons will thank you for being astute and conscientious enough to speak up about legitimate issues that need fixing. That being said:
Don't: Approach the manager over a forgotten straw or underdone steak. Neither of these is a serious issue at all, and hence, neither is worth making a stink over to somebody who will simply apologize and refer you to your server (the appropriate channel through which to address the "problem"). Also, managers have numbers to crunch and an entire business to run, and while they do want you to be satisfied, they personally are not responsible for ensuring your steak is well done or there's enough cherry syrup in your drink. They're not always so keen on being brought away from their work by the staff, and we only bother them when we absolutely have to.
Catholic Twist: This one is about temperance. It is fitting to let someone know about an issue that actually will affect their business, and you would be remiss if you knew and didn't inform someone. But it is intemperate to blow something small out of proportion (usually out of misplaced anger) and then insist on talking to a manager about it. St. Paul admonishes people in both 2 Timothy and Titus about being temperate, and let's face it, anger is never a good thing.
And finally,
Do: Tip whoever served you- waiter, host, or bartender. Lots of people think that tipping is a nicety that you observe because you're being served, but that if service isn't stellar, you don't need to tip. This is untrue. Most restaurant staff do not make the minimum wage, because tips are part of our wages. That's right, it's not a formality, it's how we get paid. We do our best to serve you in whichever way we do, and just because you don't see all the work that goes into your experience, doesn't mean we're not doing it. And believe me, we have mental tip calculators, so we know when we're being cheated. The typical rate is 18% of your bill. 20% if the service was stellar, but absolutely no less than 15%. Lots of restaurant staff are working two jobs to support themselves, and that's if they're lucky. If not, they're working at the restaurant and somewhere else to make ends meet for a family, and tips are part of how they do that.
Don't: Assume someone else will do it. Not everybody has worked in restaurants, I get that, but never assume that you can not leave a tip (or leave a negligible one) because somebody else will leave a big one. Some nights, that might happen at one table to one lucky server, host, or bartender, but it is not the rule, it is very much the exception. Like I said, we have mental tip calculators, and we know what percentage we're being tipped. Also, if you have a problem with the service, mention it to somebody instead of "punishing" your server by refusing to leave a tip. Some of us depend on them to get by, and that's not fair to someone who is likely trying their best to do their job.
Catholic Twist: Remember the story about Jesus flipping the money changers' tables and driving them out of the temple with a whip? Yep, here's looking at you, cheap tippers! Not only were the money changers not supposed to be doing business in the temple, but on top of that, they cheated the poor people who were only trying to offer God His due when they changed their money before making them buy the sacrificial animals. Okay, so we're not necessarily worshipping God through our work, but not tipping or under tipping does cheat hard-working people out of money they have rightfully earned. Do you really want to have to answer for doing that? No, I didn't think so.
So there it is, folks. A few guidelines for how to act in a restaurant from real, live restaurant staff! Feel free to print and laminate this at any point, should you need to (or don't, it's completely up to you). But please remember that waitstaff are people too. :)
Do: Try to be friendly when you come in. We work very hard to make the restaurant atmosphere a pleasant and welcoming one, not just because then you'll spend more money, but mostly because we do actually want you to enjoy being there. Smile at the hosts and servers, and even feel free to make a corny joke (we'll always give an obligatory chuckle). You're the unknown in this situation, so if you're friendly and at ease with us, our friendliness goes from automated to genuine pretty fast.
Don't: Try to be fake friendly or sour when you come in. We know what automated friendliness looks like (we're likely a lot better at it than you), and it's sort of awkward when patrons do it. We're always smiling and trying to make your experience a good one, and if you come in with a dour attitude, it makes everyone's life harder. Nobody likes a sour puss, and you certainly wouldn't appreciate it if that's how we acted.
Catholic Twist: When you're making an effort to be genuinely friendly, you're showing a little bit of Christ's love to people who are working just as hard as you do with a lot of the same life pressures. While we basically operate under the "love your neighbor as yourself" principle all the time, it is much easier to do when our neighbor is trying to love us as well. Also, being dour tempts us to gossip and be uncharitable toward you in other ways, and it effects your experience negatively as well. "But rather, love your enemies and do good to them... then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as (also) your Father is merciful." (Lk 6:35-36)
Do: Cooperate with your server. Since you just walked in, you may or may not have taken a cursory glance at your surroundings, but please do. Try to see if your section (all of which your server is taking care of) is full, noisy, or occupied by troublesome patrons. Either way, please be kind to and cooperative with your server. Yes, it is his/her job to take your order/bring you sustenance/smile and check up on you/bring your check, but he or she will likely be trying their darndest to give you the best possible service, and that deserves some cooperation. Remember, the word is server, not servant.
Don't: Tell the host/server that you're in a rush, and need to be out by x-o-clock. If you're coming to eat at a sit down restaurant, the staff assumes that you have budgeted enough time to eat there. We also assume that you know about this crazy phenomenon that occasionally strikes restaurants, called getting busy. Please, please do not come in and order anyone to serve you immediately because it's 6:15, and you absolutely must be out of here by 7:30. Even if the restaurant isn't packed, time still needs to be allowed for the cooking and preparation of your food. Rushing us makes things come out poorly and creates unnecessary stress. And if the restaurant is busy, rushing your server will cause him or her to neglect the other patrons, which will aggravate them.
Catholic Twist: The root of this do and don't is humility. To enter any business and demand immediate service because you have something you need to do is the height of arrogance. It tells the staff that servicing you is more important than running their business effectively, and the other clientele that your business is more important than theirs. If you had truly thought about your time constraints and whether or not you had the time for dinner at a sit-down restaurant, you would likely have been humble enough to choose to go to McDonald's instead of making a hassle elsewhere. "For pride is the reservoir of sin, a source which runs over with vice..." (Sir 10:13)
Do: Ask your server for a few recommendations. Everyone in a restaurant except the busboy and the dish washer are required to know the menu items and their ingredients. If you don't know what you want to eat, you can ask any one of us what's good, and we'll tell you, though to be fair, we'll usually tell you our favorites unless you ask about a specific category of food. But if you want a couple of choices straight from the source, there is no better asset than your server (and remember, this is part of his or her job).
Don't: Order something you've never had, and send it back if you don't like it. Never had a particular cut of steak or ethnic-inspired dish before? Go ahead, try it. Expand your palate by trying something new. But for the love of all that is good, do not send the meal back to the kitchen if you discover you don't like it. This is unfair and wasteful, and you're not going to get another meal without having to pay for it. It doesn't matter if you only had three bites, because the restaurant had to pay for the food, the resources and people to cook it, and for the time the server spent waiting on you. If you're not sure you'll like it, order the burger or the pasta.
Catholic Twist: This set is more about consideration of the people serving you. Not just your server, but the kitchen staff, and even the managers. Yes, the server has to spend more time on you listening to your complaints and getting you a meal you will actually eat, but the cooks have to make more food, the dish washer has to wash more, and the managers (who have a bottom line to watch) won't appreciate having to throw away perfectly good food. This causes unnecessary frustration for everyone involved, and neither we nor you will be tempted to be charitable with or about each other in this situation. "A word is the source of every deed; a thought, of every act. The root of all conduct is the mind..." (Sir 37:16-17)
Do: Be considerate of your server. Taking care of you is your server's job, but only part of it. The rest includes, but is not limited to, bussing and setting tables, and serving at least three or four other tables, cleaning the area they're working in, and probably some side work they split with the rest of the staff. They are working on a schedule, and there is only so much time they have in which to do all the work they've been assigned for the day. If you are pleasant and minimally obtrusive, it makes the server's job that much easier.
Don't: Demand an inordinate amount of your server's time or attention. Like I said, your server has a job to do of which taking care of you is only a part. This is not to say that you should not interact with your server at all, but if you don't need to, you probably shouldn't. Don't worry, nobody will think you're some sort of introverted freak, they'll probably just assume you're too busy enjoying your meal or your company to bother the server.
Catholic Twist: Some people seem to forget that even though they're enjoying leisure time at a restaurant, the staff is not. It's not that we dislike being there, but it is our job. And since we're at work, we are required to be industrious. Like most people, even if we're at work, we might not exactly want to be industrious, but we have to be. Taking up a lot of our time allows us to neglect our other work and indulge in sloth, which will have no repercussions for you, but if it happens enough times, it could certainly spell trouble for us. St. Paul advises that those who do not work should also not eat, do you really want that for your server?
Do: Report actual problems or legitimately atrocious service to the manager. He or she should know if a table or chair is broken, or if there is some equally serious problem in the restaurant that needs to be taken care of. Also, if your server or host is rude, surly, slow, inattentive, and ignoring you, that is something the manager could best address with that individual to make it stop. Managers, staff, and patrons will thank you for being astute and conscientious enough to speak up about legitimate issues that need fixing. That being said:
Don't: Approach the manager over a forgotten straw or underdone steak. Neither of these is a serious issue at all, and hence, neither is worth making a stink over to somebody who will simply apologize and refer you to your server (the appropriate channel through which to address the "problem"). Also, managers have numbers to crunch and an entire business to run, and while they do want you to be satisfied, they personally are not responsible for ensuring your steak is well done or there's enough cherry syrup in your drink. They're not always so keen on being brought away from their work by the staff, and we only bother them when we absolutely have to.
Catholic Twist: This one is about temperance. It is fitting to let someone know about an issue that actually will affect their business, and you would be remiss if you knew and didn't inform someone. But it is intemperate to blow something small out of proportion (usually out of misplaced anger) and then insist on talking to a manager about it. St. Paul admonishes people in both 2 Timothy and Titus about being temperate, and let's face it, anger is never a good thing.
And finally,
Do: Tip whoever served you- waiter, host, or bartender. Lots of people think that tipping is a nicety that you observe because you're being served, but that if service isn't stellar, you don't need to tip. This is untrue. Most restaurant staff do not make the minimum wage, because tips are part of our wages. That's right, it's not a formality, it's how we get paid. We do our best to serve you in whichever way we do, and just because you don't see all the work that goes into your experience, doesn't mean we're not doing it. And believe me, we have mental tip calculators, so we know when we're being cheated. The typical rate is 18% of your bill. 20% if the service was stellar, but absolutely no less than 15%. Lots of restaurant staff are working two jobs to support themselves, and that's if they're lucky. If not, they're working at the restaurant and somewhere else to make ends meet for a family, and tips are part of how they do that.
Don't: Assume someone else will do it. Not everybody has worked in restaurants, I get that, but never assume that you can not leave a tip (or leave a negligible one) because somebody else will leave a big one. Some nights, that might happen at one table to one lucky server, host, or bartender, but it is not the rule, it is very much the exception. Like I said, we have mental tip calculators, and we know what percentage we're being tipped. Also, if you have a problem with the service, mention it to somebody instead of "punishing" your server by refusing to leave a tip. Some of us depend on them to get by, and that's not fair to someone who is likely trying their best to do their job.
Catholic Twist: Remember the story about Jesus flipping the money changers' tables and driving them out of the temple with a whip? Yep, here's looking at you, cheap tippers! Not only were the money changers not supposed to be doing business in the temple, but on top of that, they cheated the poor people who were only trying to offer God His due when they changed their money before making them buy the sacrificial animals. Okay, so we're not necessarily worshipping God through our work, but not tipping or under tipping does cheat hard-working people out of money they have rightfully earned. Do you really want to have to answer for doing that? No, I didn't think so.
So there it is, folks. A few guidelines for how to act in a restaurant from real, live restaurant staff! Feel free to print and laminate this at any point, should you need to (or don't, it's completely up to you). But please remember that waitstaff are people too. :)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Jesus Christ is the Same Yesterday, Today, and Forever
Since I started this blog, I've wanted to write a post about my parents. I've wanted to be able to examine the situation I find myself in with them. It is peculiar, and has taken these two months to fully riddle out (though I suspect I have not gotten quite to the bottom of it yet). I have had to observe and listen to them, take in some of what they're taking in, and try to remember what is was like to be how they are to achieve my meager understanding of our situation. Even if I do manage to fully understand what has happened and continues to happen, I expect it will somehow remain, in the words of Yul Brenner "a puzzlement". To lay out what exactly I've learned, I'm going to need to give a little bit of back story to ensure that the whole issue (as I understand it) is brought to light.
To start, some seven or eight years ago, I became interested in politics. I was in middle school, and the primaries and caucuses were raging to see who President Bush's opponent would be in the 2004 election. A couple of friends and I were raised in Democrat households, and so we came down squarely in favor of whoever wasn't George W. Bush. Since we had decided we were "politically active" now, we started finding out what it was that the Democratic Party preached as the solutions to society's ills. I quickly became the most liberal person I knew, and proclaimed my new-found identity to the world. My mother liked to describe me as being "to the left of Richard Belzer" (a liberal Libertarian actor on one of my favorite t.v. shows).
To prove my legitimate political cajones, I could often be found annoying everyone within earshot with my very enlightened pronouncements on why the president sucked (he was dumber than my cats), why the vice president was evil (dude, have you seen what he looks like???) and how the Democrats were totally kewl and John Kerry was going to whoop George Bush's butt in the general election. I was of the opinion that everybody should be just as liberal as I was, and then society would have no problems. I mean, shouldn't everybody have supported gay marriage, abortion on demand, and embryonic stem cell research unequivocally? It was just common sense to me, and unfortunately for everyone else, they were woefully lacking in it.
Now, some of the things I supported were rather insidious, and some of them were echoes of what other liberals I idolized thought. My views matured as I got older, and as I began to see that not everybody disagreed with me because they were a bunch of fascist jack*sses whose mothers had dropped them on their heads. This, however, made me no less liberal, especially as I began my foray into atheism and neo-paganism in high school. I believed the entire time that my heart was in the right place (though my mouthy opinions almost never came from that place) and so did my parents, who tolerated my liberality and were proud of the very "aware" young woman I was becoming.
A few weeks before leaving to go to college, I had what I thought at the time was a powerful reversion back to Catholicism (until the real reversion happened), and left for school hoping to find a nice church where I could hit up the Mass each Sunday. When the actual reversion happened on September 11, my whole world was rocked. I knew there was more to God and Catholicism than I had ever thought there was, and I was determined to absorb it all. This led to my becoming pro-life, and reversed a good number of the social views I had held at home. When my parents came down for Parents' Weekend, they discovered this all at once and reacted viscerally. They saw what I had done as a rejection of my upbringing, their efforts at raising me. I saw their reaction as a rejection of who I was because it wasn't like them.
I had always heard (and usually participated in) my parents' lambasting of any person less liberal than themselves as I was growing up and developing my views. We assumed we knew what the other guys had in their hearts and minds, and it was idiotic. To us, all truly civilized people were Democrats or liberal Independents (Libertarians opposed gun control, so they couldn't really be as smart as they wanted to seem), and all Republicans or conservative Libertarians were nothing but thawed out neandertals. When I went off to school, I opened myself up to the Church and what she taught, and more importantly, why she taught it. I wanted to know every single thing I could about this body which had brought me face-to-face with the Head. On faith, I brought myself to learn and believe everything I had been raised to oppose (if not outright hate) until I could delve into the intellectual aspects of it. All the while, I had never realized that being as liberal as I was for so many years reinforced my parents' leanings, and made them even more liberal than they had been before.
Over all that has transpired since then, I have continued to grow in my relationship with God. I have come to love Christ more than I have loved any person or thing, without exception. In turn, Christ has called me to love Him and all people with agape, the Divine Love which cares only for the good of the other. I have often failed at this, but I try to do so whenever possible. It has led me to some unfortunate incidents with my parents, often ending in some passive-aggressive statement about how there are some things which some people just don't understand because they're too young, and don't know how the world works yet. As a result of this change in our relationship, most of the storge, the tender feeling of love felt for people with a familial or similar bond, has faded from it. Home is usually tense, and interactions are volatile, especially if politics are involved.
This reversal of sorts is painful to see and deal with, mostly because it is also a role reversal. Because the tenderness is almost all gone from my relationship with my parents, anything can become a bone of contention, even if we agree on it. I often hear nasty comments about Republicans as if I am one and just waiting to come out of the closet about it. If Planned Parenthood, adoption, or stem cell research comes up, I hear about how antiquated it is to oppose such good on such baseless grounds as religion. When I first noticed the pattern, it struck me painfully because I was instructed by Christ (and my school's chaplain) not to respond in kind, and to keep loving my parents even if it hurt. It also often seemed as if I was the adult in the house being needled by two teenagers about what fascist bigot I was for disagreeing with them. It's as if we've switched places entirely.
I have been tempted many times to call it quits on God and faith to have my parents back. At the FOCUS Conference I attended in January, while my friends were ecstatic with their new or renewed fervor for Christ, I wept bitterly in Adoration because it had hit me that my family would never be the same, and I couldn't wait for my parents to come around any longer. I was sorely tempted to tell God to take everything back, that it had been a nice run, but I preferred to have my parents rather than Him. My heart was nowhere in it, but I chose instead to pray for the strength to accept His will, no matter how much I hated it. I knew that I had come out of profound sin and darkness over the preceding months, and I was unwilling to go back or compromise.
Life since then has not been easy where my parents are concerned. Many times, I would get off the phone after talking to my parents and simply burst into tears. I hate having to see the broken remnants of my relationship with my parents, but it is my particular cross, and I will not put it down. This is the cost of following Christ, and I will pay it because life without Him is less than nothing compared to life since finding Him.
God called me back to Himself last summer, and in so doing, He asked for all of me. He asked for my mind, heart, and soul, with no return policy. I don't know what this means for my life, for my education or my family or anything else, but I intend to give God just exactly what he asked for: me. I've confided my fears in people about not knowing where my life will go, but I have come to believe the almost ubiquitous response I received: whatever He calls you to will be your happiness. Though other things may change, I believe the author of the letter to the Hebrews, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb 13:8)
To start, some seven or eight years ago, I became interested in politics. I was in middle school, and the primaries and caucuses were raging to see who President Bush's opponent would be in the 2004 election. A couple of friends and I were raised in Democrat households, and so we came down squarely in favor of whoever wasn't George W. Bush. Since we had decided we were "politically active" now, we started finding out what it was that the Democratic Party preached as the solutions to society's ills. I quickly became the most liberal person I knew, and proclaimed my new-found identity to the world. My mother liked to describe me as being "to the left of Richard Belzer" (a liberal Libertarian actor on one of my favorite t.v. shows).
To prove my legitimate political cajones, I could often be found annoying everyone within earshot with my very enlightened pronouncements on why the president sucked (he was dumber than my cats), why the vice president was evil (dude, have you seen what he looks like???) and how the Democrats were totally kewl and John Kerry was going to whoop George Bush's butt in the general election. I was of the opinion that everybody should be just as liberal as I was, and then society would have no problems. I mean, shouldn't everybody have supported gay marriage, abortion on demand, and embryonic stem cell research unequivocally? It was just common sense to me, and unfortunately for everyone else, they were woefully lacking in it.
Now, some of the things I supported were rather insidious, and some of them were echoes of what other liberals I idolized thought. My views matured as I got older, and as I began to see that not everybody disagreed with me because they were a bunch of fascist jack*sses whose mothers had dropped them on their heads. This, however, made me no less liberal, especially as I began my foray into atheism and neo-paganism in high school. I believed the entire time that my heart was in the right place (though my mouthy opinions almost never came from that place) and so did my parents, who tolerated my liberality and were proud of the very "aware" young woman I was becoming.
A few weeks before leaving to go to college, I had what I thought at the time was a powerful reversion back to Catholicism (until the real reversion happened), and left for school hoping to find a nice church where I could hit up the Mass each Sunday. When the actual reversion happened on September 11, my whole world was rocked. I knew there was more to God and Catholicism than I had ever thought there was, and I was determined to absorb it all. This led to my becoming pro-life, and reversed a good number of the social views I had held at home. When my parents came down for Parents' Weekend, they discovered this all at once and reacted viscerally. They saw what I had done as a rejection of my upbringing, their efforts at raising me. I saw their reaction as a rejection of who I was because it wasn't like them.
I had always heard (and usually participated in) my parents' lambasting of any person less liberal than themselves as I was growing up and developing my views. We assumed we knew what the other guys had in their hearts and minds, and it was idiotic. To us, all truly civilized people were Democrats or liberal Independents (Libertarians opposed gun control, so they couldn't really be as smart as they wanted to seem), and all Republicans or conservative Libertarians were nothing but thawed out neandertals. When I went off to school, I opened myself up to the Church and what she taught, and more importantly, why she taught it. I wanted to know every single thing I could about this body which had brought me face-to-face with the Head. On faith, I brought myself to learn and believe everything I had been raised to oppose (if not outright hate) until I could delve into the intellectual aspects of it. All the while, I had never realized that being as liberal as I was for so many years reinforced my parents' leanings, and made them even more liberal than they had been before.
Over all that has transpired since then, I have continued to grow in my relationship with God. I have come to love Christ more than I have loved any person or thing, without exception. In turn, Christ has called me to love Him and all people with agape, the Divine Love which cares only for the good of the other. I have often failed at this, but I try to do so whenever possible. It has led me to some unfortunate incidents with my parents, often ending in some passive-aggressive statement about how there are some things which some people just don't understand because they're too young, and don't know how the world works yet. As a result of this change in our relationship, most of the storge, the tender feeling of love felt for people with a familial or similar bond, has faded from it. Home is usually tense, and interactions are volatile, especially if politics are involved.
This reversal of sorts is painful to see and deal with, mostly because it is also a role reversal. Because the tenderness is almost all gone from my relationship with my parents, anything can become a bone of contention, even if we agree on it. I often hear nasty comments about Republicans as if I am one and just waiting to come out of the closet about it. If Planned Parenthood, adoption, or stem cell research comes up, I hear about how antiquated it is to oppose such good on such baseless grounds as religion. When I first noticed the pattern, it struck me painfully because I was instructed by Christ (and my school's chaplain) not to respond in kind, and to keep loving my parents even if it hurt. It also often seemed as if I was the adult in the house being needled by two teenagers about what fascist bigot I was for disagreeing with them. It's as if we've switched places entirely.
I have been tempted many times to call it quits on God and faith to have my parents back. At the FOCUS Conference I attended in January, while my friends were ecstatic with their new or renewed fervor for Christ, I wept bitterly in Adoration because it had hit me that my family would never be the same, and I couldn't wait for my parents to come around any longer. I was sorely tempted to tell God to take everything back, that it had been a nice run, but I preferred to have my parents rather than Him. My heart was nowhere in it, but I chose instead to pray for the strength to accept His will, no matter how much I hated it. I knew that I had come out of profound sin and darkness over the preceding months, and I was unwilling to go back or compromise.
Life since then has not been easy where my parents are concerned. Many times, I would get off the phone after talking to my parents and simply burst into tears. I hate having to see the broken remnants of my relationship with my parents, but it is my particular cross, and I will not put it down. This is the cost of following Christ, and I will pay it because life without Him is less than nothing compared to life since finding Him.
God called me back to Himself last summer, and in so doing, He asked for all of me. He asked for my mind, heart, and soul, with no return policy. I don't know what this means for my life, for my education or my family or anything else, but I intend to give God just exactly what he asked for: me. I've confided my fears in people about not knowing where my life will go, but I have come to believe the almost ubiquitous response I received: whatever He calls you to will be your happiness. Though other things may change, I believe the author of the letter to the Hebrews, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb 13:8)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
An Open Letter
I made a few videos this morning as a series of open letters to my friends about the NY legislature's passage of the same-sex marriage bill. I've seen a lot of people be civil to each other over this issue, but I've seen so many more people be argumentative, rude, unkind, and downright cruel. I don't blame anyone for this, because I've seen it on both sides. I made these videos because I want to be able to tell people how I feel, but Facebook statuses don't really cut it, and I didn't really want to type it anyway, because words on a screen are too easy to misinterpret, even by accident. The videos are rough, as they were meant to be rough drafts, but after reviewing them, I don't know if I could say it any better, even with all the gaffes they include. So without further ado, here they are:
Blogger won't upload the last one, so I'll upload it separately.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
God's Tests
I don't like to study. At all. In my whole life, I can never remember liking to study, even the subjects I liked. This has resulted in more than one failed test, and unfortunately, many more passes than fails. It may come as a surprise to some that I consider having a photographic memory and high retention rate for facts "unfortunate", but I do. When other kids were off in their rooms studying feverishly for tests and quizzes, I was most likely reading a book or amusing myself in some other way. I was a smart kid, and for most of my academic life I have not really needed to study, though I have been hit in the face with that need more than once since entering college, and even a few times in high school.
Many times over the past year or so, I have labored in my spiritual life under the delusion that unlike many of the tests I have taken in academia, the tests God gives are surprises. No announcement a week ahead of time, no study guide, and no notes (though I admit He is much better at preventing the people He tests from cheating!). However, this is not true. Okay, so maybe I don't take spiritual notes on anything, but if I cared to look hard enough, I would certainly see it coming, and I read enough online and in books for them to serve as study guides. God is even nice enough to throw me lifelines in the middle of my tests in the form of my friends and anyone else who might have the answers to my questions.
But this doesn't mean I don't wish I'd learned to study. I was hit in the face with this fact this morning, reading one of my school's chaplain's blog posts. He mentioned how when people face difficulty in their lives, he asks them if they're praying. Not just "Do you say your prayers before bed?", but if they're saying heartfelt prayers and entering into meaningful conversation with God. Many people, he says, sheepishly admit that they're not doing so, and more often than not, neither am I. It kind of hurt me to admit that to myself, since I know I should be doing a better job in my prayer life, but I suppose that even as much as it hurts me, it must hurt God even more.
You see, as much as I try to be faithful, and oftentimes fail, I think of myself as the sheep from the Gospel of Luke. Except that I must be the most schizophrenic sheep in the entire world, because I will stray, allow God to find me, let Him take me at least part of the way back, and then start to fight Him. Or if I do get all the way back, I start peeking through the holes in the pasture fence to see what's outside, as if I hadn't just been there and discovered firsthand how bad it is. Saying this makes me realize just how silly this habit is, and how, if I had such a sheep, I would probably keep it under an extra lock and key to protect it from its own sheer stupidity. But no, this dumb little sheep is allowed her free will to go waltzing back out into her sin outside the pasture, and is promptly responded to when she bleats for the Shepherd to come find her and take her back home.
I find this is true now more than ever, as coming back home has provided ample opportunities for me to stray, and I knew it would. I was warned more than once that being at home would be hard, and I should build up a solid, regular prayer life where it was the norm while I could, so it would be habit when the school year was over. And I kinda, sorta listened to those warnings, but not nearly enough. I did pray every day, and I still do, but it's harder having to go almost from the ground up now that I'm no longer in a spiritual vacuum. In other words, I knew the test was coming, I got multiple warnings about it, and I decided not to study. I decided that I could make it through the test on what little effort I had to put in during class. Now, as with any academic test, I'm not quite halfway through, and already pulling about a C (if that).
Fortunately, God's tests, provided they're long enough, are the ones you can kind of study for while you're taking them. So all is not lost for the crazy sheep, though she will have to start really saying her prayers, and try not to stand so close to the gate. :)
Many times over the past year or so, I have labored in my spiritual life under the delusion that unlike many of the tests I have taken in academia, the tests God gives are surprises. No announcement a week ahead of time, no study guide, and no notes (though I admit He is much better at preventing the people He tests from cheating!). However, this is not true. Okay, so maybe I don't take spiritual notes on anything, but if I cared to look hard enough, I would certainly see it coming, and I read enough online and in books for them to serve as study guides. God is even nice enough to throw me lifelines in the middle of my tests in the form of my friends and anyone else who might have the answers to my questions.
But this doesn't mean I don't wish I'd learned to study. I was hit in the face with this fact this morning, reading one of my school's chaplain's blog posts. He mentioned how when people face difficulty in their lives, he asks them if they're praying. Not just "Do you say your prayers before bed?", but if they're saying heartfelt prayers and entering into meaningful conversation with God. Many people, he says, sheepishly admit that they're not doing so, and more often than not, neither am I. It kind of hurt me to admit that to myself, since I know I should be doing a better job in my prayer life, but I suppose that even as much as it hurts me, it must hurt God even more.
You see, as much as I try to be faithful, and oftentimes fail, I think of myself as the sheep from the Gospel of Luke. Except that I must be the most schizophrenic sheep in the entire world, because I will stray, allow God to find me, let Him take me at least part of the way back, and then start to fight Him. Or if I do get all the way back, I start peeking through the holes in the pasture fence to see what's outside, as if I hadn't just been there and discovered firsthand how bad it is. Saying this makes me realize just how silly this habit is, and how, if I had such a sheep, I would probably keep it under an extra lock and key to protect it from its own sheer stupidity. But no, this dumb little sheep is allowed her free will to go waltzing back out into her sin outside the pasture, and is promptly responded to when she bleats for the Shepherd to come find her and take her back home.
I find this is true now more than ever, as coming back home has provided ample opportunities for me to stray, and I knew it would. I was warned more than once that being at home would be hard, and I should build up a solid, regular prayer life where it was the norm while I could, so it would be habit when the school year was over. And I kinda, sorta listened to those warnings, but not nearly enough. I did pray every day, and I still do, but it's harder having to go almost from the ground up now that I'm no longer in a spiritual vacuum. In other words, I knew the test was coming, I got multiple warnings about it, and I decided not to study. I decided that I could make it through the test on what little effort I had to put in during class. Now, as with any academic test, I'm not quite halfway through, and already pulling about a C (if that).
Fortunately, God's tests, provided they're long enough, are the ones you can kind of study for while you're taking them. So all is not lost for the crazy sheep, though she will have to start really saying her prayers, and try not to stand so close to the gate. :)
Women of Grace
For the last few weeks, I've been watching the show Women of Grace on EWTN in between looking for jobs (and finally finding one!), and although I find it a little cheesy sometimes, I do enjoy it very much. It's an easy way to keep connected with my faith without my parents having to see, and it's on all week at the same time. The show's host, Johnette Benkovic, covers all sorts of different topics in her short half hour each day, and any viewer can tell that she earnestly desires for those who watch the show to know the God of love. She ends each episode by saying "Until next time, may the abundant life of Jesus Christ be yours", which I think is a sweet phrase, but also a sort of blessing on her viewers, though I doubt many of them are not actively seeking that life, such is the crowd that watches EWTN.
WoG is a lovely little respite for me each day, and often the highlight, except for yesterday. Three weeks ago, I was (FINALLY) able to make it to daily Mass and Adoration in a little church two towns over, and it was magnificent! I was the only person even remotely close to my age in the church (not counting the altar boys), but I didn't care. I sat and listened to the readings and the homily, and almost could have cried, I was so happy to finally make it back to God on a day that wasn't Sunday. Immediately after Mass ended, the altar boys and the priest started setting up for a holy hour, and I was psyched. I could barely concentrate on praying because I was genuinely that excited, and I wasn't disappointed. Almost nobody from Mass left, and they started Adoration with Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours (something I try to do every morning). After all that, I settled in to say the Rosary, and by the time I was done, I had a few minutes of quiet, personal prayer before Benediction. It was fabulous, and I loved every minute. :)
A couple of the women in the church approached me after Adoration had ended, since it's not often that teenagers run into church of their own volition at 7:30 a.m., and they probably wondered what had brought me out so early for no apparent reason. The answer, of course, was Jesus Christ, and we talked about our faith, and my future (as is inevitable, my being a college student and all). They told me they would pray for me, and for my school's Newman Center, since it has instilled in me a deep love of God and a solid, orthodox faith. I talked to one of them in the parking lot, and she took great joy in the fact that I was running after Christ, even though I was not in the place where my experience of Him was the strongest.
In the days since this Mass, I have tried to get to that church for Mass as often as I can, though often I don't make it because my father doesn't leave early enough for work for me to make the trip in time. I've considered leaving right after he does to try to catch what part of the Mass I can, or simply getting there in time for the Holy Hour they have every morning, but I don't know if I should. Part of that may be my neuroses about wanting to be on time for the whole thing, but I know that another part is that I feel there's a particular grace in going to Mass when I can now that it's rather less often than it is at school. I also know that there are graces in having the women I interact with at Mass and Johnette's wonderful (if occasionally campy) show as good examples for how to live during my remaining time at home.
WoG is a lovely little respite for me each day, and often the highlight, except for yesterday. Three weeks ago, I was (FINALLY) able to make it to daily Mass and Adoration in a little church two towns over, and it was magnificent! I was the only person even remotely close to my age in the church (not counting the altar boys), but I didn't care. I sat and listened to the readings and the homily, and almost could have cried, I was so happy to finally make it back to God on a day that wasn't Sunday. Immediately after Mass ended, the altar boys and the priest started setting up for a holy hour, and I was psyched. I could barely concentrate on praying because I was genuinely that excited, and I wasn't disappointed. Almost nobody from Mass left, and they started Adoration with Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours (something I try to do every morning). After all that, I settled in to say the Rosary, and by the time I was done, I had a few minutes of quiet, personal prayer before Benediction. It was fabulous, and I loved every minute. :)
A couple of the women in the church approached me after Adoration had ended, since it's not often that teenagers run into church of their own volition at 7:30 a.m., and they probably wondered what had brought me out so early for no apparent reason. The answer, of course, was Jesus Christ, and we talked about our faith, and my future (as is inevitable, my being a college student and all). They told me they would pray for me, and for my school's Newman Center, since it has instilled in me a deep love of God and a solid, orthodox faith. I talked to one of them in the parking lot, and she took great joy in the fact that I was running after Christ, even though I was not in the place where my experience of Him was the strongest.
In the days since this Mass, I have tried to get to that church for Mass as often as I can, though often I don't make it because my father doesn't leave early enough for work for me to make the trip in time. I've considered leaving right after he does to try to catch what part of the Mass I can, or simply getting there in time for the Holy Hour they have every morning, but I don't know if I should. Part of that may be my neuroses about wanting to be on time for the whole thing, but I know that another part is that I feel there's a particular grace in going to Mass when I can now that it's rather less often than it is at school. I also know that there are graces in having the women I interact with at Mass and Johnette's wonderful (if occasionally campy) show as good examples for how to live during my remaining time at home.
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