Christianity

  • Because I can, at times, be of poor memory, and the remembrance of memories is all that is left of what ever happened:

    It was during finals period of this last school year. In my absolute anxiety, I hadn't bothered to've started writing my 15 page rough draft for my final paper for my WGSS senior seminar until the point that the paper was due. Between staying up and lightly sleeping in the hopes of even starting the damn thing, I had a raging headache by the time night had rolled around. Needless to say, I was miserably irate and depressed.

    As I was rushingly trying to finish this late draft, I happened to notice it was 10 or 11 and that Theology on Tap had started. Based off of a Catholic event that had started in Chicago, Williams's version was to get all of the chaplains together, and students would ask them any question they wished regarding religion. It's one of my favorite events of the year, not held too frequently, and I had already missed the last one or two times it had last occurred. I figured the brief escape might help my morale to some degree.

    I was partially wrong. A few students were questioning the history of the church and Father Caster was feeling harassed (I expect his family troubles didn't help to put him in any sort of calm and explaining mood). There wasn't much room, so I sat at the end of one of the benches and just tried to avoid any light.

    A little bit later, some room opened up next to Julia. They offered for me to move away from outside, on the edge of the circle. I naturally declined at this sudden and unexpected change. A few minutes later, upon considering that it'd be nice to be next to Julia (who had been becoming a closer and closer friend to me over the past few months), I decided to move over.

    Julia, recognizing I was hardly in remotely a good mood, put her arm over my shoulder as I sat down. As the event went along, Father Caster was responding to another person's question (actually, all the chaplain's were; I just remember Father Caster's response). It may have been because of my exhaustion, but I don't recall what the question was; I think I sort of came in, while Father was already giving his answer.

    From my vague memory, he was describing how some aspect of his answer related to when we care about someone else. Gah, this is going to irritate the shit out of me now, because I do think his wording was very important to how the scenario played out. Regardless, to paraphrase, he was describing that when we care about someone, we take care of them, we do actions that mean something to them.

    As he was in the middle of describing this, I thought I ought to knowingly nudge Julia. It was the kind of private exchange that I particularly enjoy and also a means of reciprocating the (what seemed to me) wholesale over-credit Julia had been giving my character as of late. Perhaps I'm just a slow creature (in that choices, decisions, and – at times – actions ought to be approached only when entirely certain), and what seemed to me like a very quick shift from being somewhat-alarmed-by-me/acquaintances to being close friends (in that loyalty, fondness, and feeling safe enough to lean upon the other were at play) was hard to justify in my head; not that I didn't appretiate and welcome these things: I simply had a hard time understanding their occurrence.

    In the time it took for me to debate whether to do this (rather, there was no debate whether I should; it was that, once again, any action that was not thought was exceedingly draining of me in such a depressed state), she nudged me. I glanced up to see her knowingly smirk at me. I, in turn, nudged her back, smiling with what energy my body was willing to concede.

     

    It would be false to say I did not have any friends at Williams. I did not have as many close friends as I would like (certainly less than I had upon leaving high school), though it would be false, I think, to say I had none as well. I think the most irritating thing of the entire experience, though, is the way that I felt most people didn't try to get close to me at all (some did, to be sure). I would like to firmly place the fault of which upon my own introversion and aloofness and, therefore, utterly out of a fault of their own.

  • There is a phenomenon that I feel I occasionally hint at or passingly refer to from time to time on here in my life, where I find an aspect of myself which I recognize now but would seem to have roots that trace back to some point that fades into the past, and I can no longer discern it distinctly. My liberalism (and the creeping feeling that this was retrieved and enforced by my surrounding culture throughout the entirety – just about – of my childhood) is one of them.

    And, it would seem, my Catholicism is one as well (which is particularly bizarre to me), because I really never identified strongly with my Catholicism until college. I don't believe I ever have mentioned this here (though I started to actually notice, and mention, it for the first time after discussing religion in college, first in Williams Secular Community, then with Arantza, Andrew, and Kahn, and then in InterFaith) but, in spite of attending Sunday School (on and off) and stepping foot into a church at least half of the year (Catholic, naturally), I didn't really have a particularly Catholic identity. Sure, I identified as Catholic, but my religious affiliation could really have been better described as a Christian identity than a Catholic one.

    America is a Christian nation – insofar that "Christian nation" means one based upon a premise of generic Protestant Christianity largely due to a bizarre necessity, by a decent amount of people, for evangelism (including tacit evangelism like politicians feeling it's necessary to say God bless at the end of every speaking engagement, regardless of zir own religious identifications or those whom ze is addressing) and a held belief that, so long as we all believe in JESUS, everything else will turn out fine (seriously, though, we need to all agree on that one fact – we do, right? Right?).

    The downfall of this approach (other than the glaring fact of expected cultural religious conformity) is that a lot of the cool denominational diversity that exists is passed over. However, from a personal perspective, it robbed me of the diversity within my denomination by making me think that Christianity meant X (and, since Catholicism is a form of Christianity, Catholicism must mean X). This provided me with thoughts like Catholicism believed in sola scriptura (Latin for "by scripture alone"). Or, as I've complained irately a multitude of times here, sola fide (Latin for "[salvation] by faith alone").

    This, in turn, had me stating that there was no real Christian denomination that I agreed with (how could I, when, in my ignorance, they all required faith for salvation?); I identified as Catholic, because that's what I grew up in and, therefore, was the place of my attendance (it surely had nothing to do with me agreeing with the theology).

    This, I think, is why discovery of my Catholicism was this very cool experience (and welcome relief) in college. However, it was also a somewhat bizarre experience, as I realized that a lot of my religion fit me so well. This was bizarre because I had not sought out Catholicism for its stances (indeed, I was so utterly clueless the whole of my childhood as to what Catholicism stood for that I actually rejected it (as I did all Christian denominations) as an imperfect expression of my own beliefs; I had no issue with being Christian: I just didn't agree with the conclusions most Christian religions extrapolated from that). And yet Catholicism seemed to verify so much of what I did agree with:

    We employ incense and cross ourselves, because worship should involve all the senses?
    Cool; I never thought of theology in that light before.

    Our liturgy, like aspects of our scripture and Jewish liturgy, ought to be symbolic and metaphorical?
    Cool; as an English major, I can completely get that.

    Our Mass should include beautiful music and incense and pretty stained-glass windows, because it ought to be art, because art is a means of connecting with the divine and Truth?
    What a beautiful idea.

    Reason and logic are tools given to Human-kind, and we ought to use them and, indeed, can (and ought to) use them to perceive and understand God?
    How very Enlightenment like.

    In lieu of the last point, there ought to be a respect for science as an explainer of our current universe? So much so that St. Augustine said that scripture should possibly be regarded as metaphorical if science contradicts it. On top of that, there's a very rich history of priests as scientists, as well as the church being a patron of the sciences; lest we forget, it was a priest that helped formulate the concept of the Big Bang.
    Wonderful.

    Of course, some of why I like those things (stuff like the use of reason and the importance of beauty/art) are because they tie us very close to a celebration to the human/earthly form (which, in turn, is why more on the Protestant side dislike Catholicism and just see it as an extension of paganism. All that incense, candles, and stained-glass windows? Just distractions taking your mind away from focusing on God during the service). Admittedly, my favorite priests were the ones who'd sit down with you around at a pub with a beer (or mix drinks) or join you to hang out somewhere or had experience at college campuses – imagine the somewhat portly priest so ridiculed during the middle ages, the priest perceived to be too much of this Earth, too down-to-Earth. Of course, theology was always so much more strongly about morality rather than how wicked the Earth itself is, so I've never been too afraid of celebrating and enjoying our Earthly humanity.

    An orthodox Catholic would probably find a middle ground, of sorts. Certainly our humanity isn't to be wholly repudiated. After all, Christ became man, and what was his first miracle? Making water into wine.

    But I think this highlights the final conclusion I came to: while Catholicism, I discovered, was the religion that fit me the closest (sans Judaism), I still wound up disagreeing with aspects of it. I graduated with a degree in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies with a concentration in Queer Studies, after all. I would not be surprised to learn that the pope and I have some differing ideas. Despite the absolute unlikelihood of it, I want women ordained; I understand all reasons the why the church refuses on that point, but I can't – in good conscience – agree. And you know, really, my differences are small in number. But they all focus around things which are pretty much dogma by now. For all the changes the church can make (and they can be awesome; how the Mass is viewed after Vatican II is an awesome understanding and approach to our liturgy), they won't be any that address the bulk of my issues with Catholicism.

    However, unless I decide to convert to Judaism, this is what I have. The time I became an atheist taught me (ironically) that I am a religious person; my understanding of the world involves religion. Honestly, I think it's inseparable from who I am (there's a reason I was co-president of InterFaith for two years).

    However, this isn't a complete impediment. After all, I spent most of the entirety of my life in a religion that I disagreed with; I now agree with it so much more so, so it's even better than it was before, right?

    And, really, I don't think I'm really making how clear I like a lot of Catholicism right now. I forget if I mentioned it on here or had only thought to, but it's very difficult to describe the feeling I got when hearing an organ playing from out of a cathedral while at Princeton for the interfaith summit. Or the sounds of, really, any form of chanting of psalms and hymns (though, naturally, Gregorian has a special place in my heart). And, of course, the celebration of the Mass.

    But there's also another one of those phenomena I mentioned at the beginning of this post that makes my Catholicism so cozy. Again, for the life of me, I'm not sure where I get this feeling (in particular since I only really started understanding Catholicism in college), but there is a history of liberal Catholics throughout history, a group of liberal intellectuals who, in spite of their differences with Catholicism due to their liberalism, are fully Catholic (and are, in fact, liberal fully due to being Catholic). Yet, if you were to ask me for examples, I would come up short, which isn't to say that the idea is far-fetched. As I've already said, there is an emphasis and respect for intellectualism within Catholicism, particularly in the area of philosophy. And, while part of the reason you can consider the Catholic voting bloc Democratic for the most part (even to this day) is because most Catholic immigrants were Irish (and thus Catholic) while also being working class and, thus, labor (as well as Kennedy, obviously), I think it's telling, when Catholic no longer means Irish here in America, at least 50-some percent of Catholics are still voting Democrat. The only time I've actually really witnessed this was during my Senior year of college with Andrew. We were both pretty hard-leaning liberals, though of different stripes in the end, and yet entirely Catholic.

    Both of us could back up why we do what we do during Mass and in most of our theology. Andrew was more versed in the philosophy used by Catholicism to justify itself. I'm pretty concerned regarding liturgy (including that outside of Mass). And, while I was always happy to find myself in a fully-Catholic room from time to time (due to, for nine elevenths of my life, not fully identifying as Catholic), Andrew and I would often laugh about what we disagreed with and perceived as ridiculous about our church (at one point, he mentioned that he thought he had heard that the papacy had released an official apology for what had happened with Galileo; we marveled how, in comparison to other Christian denominations, ours could get so many things right and yet others still so utterly wrong. Then we laughed as we noted the church had no problem with evolution (unlike other denominations) but still hadn't apologized for when it denied that the sun revolved around the Earth).

    Side note: come to think of it, Kaz and I probably fall into that same place together, but I feel him and I haven't discussed politics enough for such a dynamic to unfold.

    And this is my longwinded way of eventually reaching the point of this post.

    I like my religion; I do. Actually, it's (admittedly) more torn than that, with high extremes of each end. While I often don't put anything in the collection plate each Sunday (in part because I don't really have any money, though more these days because I can't justify supporting financially an institution that I disagree so extremely on in some cases), I still vouch for the religion. But the point is, I'm trying to find my place in it. Based on the merits that Catholicism does have, I think we ought to root ourselves in that. In other words, Catholic culture. But what is that, exactly? Good question.

    And these thoughts which are usually lurking around my head came to the forefront, when I came across this article: http://patrickdeneen.blogspot.com/2009/05/abortion-and-catholic-culture.html.

    At first, I thought the article was going to make the argument that abortion and pro-life culture dominated Catholic culture at the moment (which, really, you can't create a culture around a singular idea), and it was because of this that people were leaving the church in droves (particularly young people). To quote two sentences from the article: "In my view, the singular focus upon abortion as THE issue over which conservative Catholics will brook no divergence and around which we are called to rally reveals, to my mind, not evidence of robust Catholic culture as much as its absence.[…]The ferocity over this issue – and this issue almost to the exclusion of nearly every other issue that might be part of a rich fabric of Catholic culture – suggests to me that Catholic culture, where it existed, has been largely routed."

    Instead, the article is about how we live in American society's culture and not in a purely Catholic one, and this is why some Catholics feel okay not centralizing their Catholicism around abortion (after all, abortion is not at the center of Catholic spirituality or theology).

    ***Note: I'm not interested in contemplating the morality of abortion; that's not the point of this post. Everything written here will be sans my own opinions on abortion, if I even have any***

    And this is somewhat central to my search for a Catholic culture or, really, namely a Catholicism I feel comfortable in.

    As I noted to my dad a few days ago, I'm extremely conservative when it comes to liturgy (possibly a small part of why I'm so interested in Judaism – our liturgy came out of that, so, if you want to go back to the source…). On the other hand, as I've noted (and demonstrated) a multitude of times here, I'm extremely liberal (no surprise anymore). So, when I find someplace I really like worshiping, I will probably not be liked by most of the people there.

    On the other hand, I agree entirely with the concepts of Vatican II regarding changes to the Mass. The difficulty comes with the part that calls for more local aspects brought in (which, ultimately, I do agree). A Mass is a Mass is a Mass. And while I recognize it as valid, it's not my ideal way of celebrating it (a valid opinion, I would argue, seeing that the very construction of the Mass was as an art to be enjoyed and admired). The part of the article that talks about how we are members of parishes (where we live) rather than shopping around for the right place and, thus, we have a culture of acceptance rather than transformation struck me as funny, largely because I've been going to different parishes to see the differing Masses because the one in my parish is far too liberal in its liturgy for my taste (and it's not even that liberal, by today's standards; it's actually rather common place – hence why I haven't settled for a particular parish yet).

    Yet there's the rub. I agree with Vatican II (I know, technically I'm not supposed to even have the choice of disagreeing if I'm a part of this church, but clearly I'm not a fully orthodox Catholic). I don't disagree with these Masses; I simply dislike them (stylistically). There's an important difference in that.

    So, in the grand question of what is Catholic culture, how do we decide in such diversity? Well, the first problem, I would guess, would be that you can't define culture around the Mass (though there are some interesting questions that arise from such an idea and I'm certain there have been Catholic philosophers (and I would probably agree) that there are ways to do so partially). Sure, liturgy can be important to culture, but, as I've said several times, Mass is not the only part of the liturgy. Did you know that it is practically literally impossible (I don't know if I've checked all the possibilities yet) to find a parish that celebrates Vespers within a 45 minute drive from my house?

    Perhaps it's more linked to the problem that I tend to find in my own spiritual life. If it isn't obvious yet, I prefer liturgical religions. There are some liberal reasons for this involving analysis of systems and how it affects the adherents, etc. but I think this post is getting long enough as it is. Yet if I wanted to find other means of discovering the wealth of diverse and beautiful liturgy we have? It literally took me a year to fully understand what the Divine Office was, let alone how to practice it. And, if it weren't for the particular people in my life during that time, I don't know I would have discovered it so quickly; yes, you can always ask your priest, but doesn't it make more sense to have that information readily available somewhere in easy-to-digest form rather than putting it through a bottleneck of one person?

    So where was I supposed to discover the wealth of my Catholic faith? Arguably, Sunday School (and, God knows, those poor teachers did their best) but you can't expect children from such a young age to truly value the information their receiving (at one point, one of the kids just played his Gameboy under the table while claiming he was meditating; I'm pretty sure my teacher just gave up).

    But after that? Sure, my brother and I were made altar servers (from which I learned a great deal), but there really isn't any other means other than lector or Eucharistic minister – all of which doesn't really teach you or envelop you in the liturgy (particularly outside of the Mass). It envelopes you scripture, sure, but – you know – we're heretics and scripture alone isn't enough for us.

    And this is why I got so excited about that article. I thought it was going to repudiate abortion (or same-sex marriage or contraceptives) as the pillar in which to encircle our culture around. Because you can't create a Catholic culture around an external cause. It has to involve more (and I do defend this point, even to the issue of poverty, an issue which has been a Catholic cause for ages and strikes directly to Catholicism).

    You want to know why people are leaving the church? The first is that you're zeroing in on divisive issues (homosexuals and Transsexuals and condoms in Africa) and, like good Catholics, the laity is using their God-given reason to see that the church's position just doesn't make that much sense (plus, it hurts people). At least, that's my pet theory.

    However, more so, you're not giving these people any alternative. A religion focused around fighting abortion is not going to keep people; people want a little bit more.

    Give them something which makes them feel Catholic. Because, right now, there isn't really much. I was stuck in rapt horror during the Mass before the March for Life as it was built up to with generic worship music (which, naturally, all sounded the same and could think of remotely creative lyrics even though they're supposedly written for a higher power). I might as well have been attending any evangelical group back at home because there was hardly any difference other than there were a bunch of priests and seminarians walking around. The only point that an actual difference started to emerge was during the introduction of the bishops present and a reference to the relic being used on the altar (and, of course, the Mass itself).

    Now, there's a long and personal history as to why I'm so bitter against such worship, but the point still remains: why am I bothering to stick with Catholicism when evangelicalism is offering pretty much the same thing? Evangelicalism is able to keep its adherents, because it operates on a system of fearing about your own salvation and the salvation of everyone you care about with a constant threat of going to Hell and an expectation to be continually perfect to the point that it becomes an informal (not always realized) game of bragging rights. This is not Catholicism (though, of course, with some of the laity (and apparently some of the clergy) seeing no difference between evangelical culture and Catholic culture, who knows anymore).

    Setting up places to more easily understand and learn about liturgy would be a start, as well as the ability to learn about Catholic philosophy would be good.

    Of course, they may end up tacitly (and then un-tacitly) agreeing with opposition to same-sex marriage, contraceptives, and the like. I need more liberal Catholics; where do I find them?

     

    ***Note: I think it's obvious, but better safe than sorry – when I refer to evangelicalism here, it's a rather large umbrella term and is referring to those groups I have personal experience with, rather than everyone. Further, it's more often in reference to evangelical culture than necessarily theology***

  • As per usual, as the holidays approach, have passed, or are in the process of going this month, I just want to wish you all an Insightful Bodhi, Merry Christmas, Solemn Ashura, and Happy Hanukkah. Stay safe, stay sane, stay well. As I always say (and still maintain), I'm glad to have met you all.

  •  

    Worked a booth at the county fair today. I know I've said it before, but I feel the need to say it again – public displays of religiosity completely unnerve me.

    I could tell you about the Catholic booth, in which one of those staffing the booth told me as I was leaving, "Stay righteous and stay Catholic; we wanna be sure to get you into Heaven." I could also tell you about how overly un-confrontational that I am, seeing as all I could muster was smiling and walking away instead of bothering to point how overly offensive and pretentious such a statement is (though no Christian would dare admit such a statement could be that) or quote our shared catechism (337 LG 16; cf. DS 3866-3872: "Those also can attain to salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the Gospel of Christ or His Church, yet sincerely seek God and moved by grace strive by their deeds to do His will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience. Nor does Divine Providence deny the helps necessary for salvation to those who, without blame on their part, have not yet arrived at an explicit knowledge of God and with His grace strive to live a good life.").

    Or I could tell you how, as I stopped by the Gideons booth (you know, those guys who feel the need to shove Jesus down your throat even on your vacation so they fill every hotel with a bible), I was led on (after listing a desire for a portable New Testament, being a Catholic, and following the commandments as laid out by the Bible) to say that I had accepted Christ as my personal lord and savior before the guy would give me one of the pocket New Testaments. I guess they believe you have to convert before being able to grace your eyes upon the sacred words of Christ and Paul? Great proselytizing plan, guys; but I despise proselytizing in nearly all forms so keep up having everyone of sane minds thinking you're obnoxious.

     

    Instead, however, I'm going to watch my feel-good movie tonight, perhaps with a bowl of ice cream, while our dog sleeps next to me. If you guys haven't seen it yet, I highly suggest to watch it. It's called Show Me Love or Fucking Åmål in the original Swedish (it's a foreign film; Åmål is a small Swedish town). Links to watch the movie online are here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spGW5p9p1c4.

  • Just because I'm American, don't assume I'm Christian.

    Just because you worship a particular deity, don't assume that I do too.

    And, if your organization's purpose is not for the proselytizing of a particular faith, do not waste my interest and insult my identity by implicitely, or explicitely, telling me I should follow your faith or assuming that I have religious belief (and that belief is yours).

  • This year Williams got a new president. A nice enough guy, from what I've seen of him thus far.

    With our last president, Morty, every year the members of Williams Catholic would have dinner around the middle of the first semester to celebrate some feast that, sadly, I cannot remember the name for. While I actually don't know if this was the case, I imagine that similar things were offered to the other religious groups on campus; it'd be severely problematic if that wasn't the case.

    Regardless, the point is that, this year, we naturally asked if the same thing would be done this year for our new president. I've missed every dinner in the past and I was looking forward to this one to welcome in our new president (or at least get to know him further than just playing Hail to the Chief with a silly hat on (the marching band, you see)).

    His response, however, was that that wouldn't be the case. He's an atheist and does not want religion in his home. He would support us entirely outside but he did not want us bringing religion in.

    Which, you know, is fine if he's an atheist. My attendance at Williams Secular Community (WSC) should be evidence enough. But maybe that's just what first came to mind - WSC. We're not asking to have this dinner with him because we intend to convert him or something like that. It's like sharing passover with some friends of yours with the idea in mind that they intend to make you Jewish; the notion's rediculous. Or maybe that's not an event that most people have experienced.

    The point is, by saying that you don't want to share dinner with us, it's a direct rejection of everything that we're about. It's like the dumbasses that staunchly refuse to say Happy Holidays over Merry Christmas because - God forbid - they have to acknowledge that some people actually believe in something other than Christianity or that others don't believe in anything (religious-wise) at all. It's a rejection of those people, a way of saying, "You - are - wrong, to the point that I couldn't even bother to bear supporting you."

    Well then. Thank you President Falk. Or am I over-reacting?

    Perhaps the reason why I jumped at the chance to chair InterFaith, I like other's ideas. Which maybe betrays some bias. I wouldn't think so, but maybe so. Which may be the reason that I simply saw that dinner as a way of saying, "Hey, we want to share with you this integral part of us. We want to get to know you; come celebrate with us."

     

     

    So, when I say Merry Christmas to you all, this isn't some demeaning attempt to convert, certainly not a way of saying that I think my religious belief is better than yours, or any of any other possible affronts that could be misconstrued from the gesture.

    It's a way of sharing my tradition with you and the sentiments that go with that - have a safe holidays, with friends and coming together with family. Goodwill towards all and the usual stuff.

     

     

    Merry Christmas all. I hope it's a happy one.

  • “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter.
    -Matthew 7:21

     

    "Severely disturbed" is the only way I can respectfully put it.

  • So, the baptism was fantastic.

    I ended up finding out right before rehersal as alter server that I had no time to set up later for work, so I had to run to the music building and set up the chairs and stands for Symphonic Winds practice tonight. However, I managed it in roughly 25 minutes and made it back.

    The alter servers all got last minute preping in the back as we got ready to go out. We pulled out five of us for the occassion, all regulars (in terms of serving).

    There was also three people getting their confirmation (including the one getting baptised). It was really just awesome. We were all kind of emotional the entire time.

    However, pressed as I was (Sunday's always are my busiest days, sadly), I couldn't stay for the dinner and had to run off immediately afterwards.

    Oh well. Back to some last minute homework, before turning in for the night.