Charlotte was Both

Today is the feastday of Mary, Mother of the Church:

It’s also “in other years” – the memorial of St. Bernardine (Bernardino) of Siena:

At 22, he entered the Franciscan Order and was ordained two years later. For almost a dozen years he lived in solitude and prayer, but his gifts ultimately caused him to be sent to preach. He always traveled on foot, sometimes speaking for hours in one place, then doing the same in another town.

Especially known for his devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus, Bernardine devised a symbol—IHS, the first three letters of the name of Jesus in Greek—in Gothic letters on a blazing sun. This was to displace the superstitious symbols of the day, as well as the insignia of factions: for example, Guelphs and Ghibellines. The devotion spread, and the symbol began to appear in churches, homes and public buildings. Opposition arose from those who thought it a dangerous innovation. Three attempts were made to have the pope take action against him, but Bernardine’s holiness, orthodoxy, and intelligence were evidence of his faithfulness.

General of the Friars of the Strict Observance, a branch of the Franciscan Order, Bernardine strongly emphasized scholarship and further study of theology and canon law. When he started there were 300 friars in the community; when he died there were 4,000. He returned to preaching the last two years of his life, dying while traveling.

I’m sure there are other collections out there, perhaps some with more contemporary translations, but this is one I grabbed from archive.org. It’s worth your time. If you’re interested in that sort of thing. They give you an intriguing snapshot of the time, for these sermons were, of course, not being given during Mass, but outside of it, probably outdoors, to the entire community, wealthy and poor. He uses examples from all walks of life, from bakers to shoemakers to farmers, and has great concern for local political squabbles.

Weirdly, this painting of St. Bernardine of Siena is in our very own Birmingham (AL) Museum of Art.

Sermon 28 is on vanity. It’s applicable to the present moment, perhaps not in every particular, since social morays and cultural expectations do change over time, but in the basic spiritual orientation, largely neglected today, even in the self-consciously Christian world.

This lengthy sermon goes all over the place and reflects, of course, his time – a time in which social and economic class and position were reflected in dress, sometimes by local law (called sumptuary laws). So there is a touch of that in this sermon – attempting to punch above your weight with your clothing is a manifestation of vanity – but just a bit. More important to Bernardine is the message that attempting to draw attention to oneself and using clothing as an indicator of wealth and privilege is vanity, and therefore sinful.

It’s also unjust – for example, the source of dowries:

… whence come these possessions, whence come these garments, of what is her dowry made up ?

For many times, and most times, it is made up of robbery, of usury, and of the sweat of the brow of peasants,, and of the blood of widows, and of the marrow of wards and orphans. “Who would take one ‘ of those petticoats and squeeze it and wring it, would see issue therefrom the blood of human beings. Woe is me ! Do you never think how great cruelty is this, that thou shouldst dress thyself in garments that this man hath gained for thee, who perisheth with cold? …..

The first of the other five is called superfluity: The first of the whereas you must reflect that when God gave the garment of skin to Adam, he gave it to him out of decency, and to protect him from the heat and the cold, so that it might be fitted to his needs, and in this all the holy Doctors agree; and he had one only and no more. thou who hast so many of them, and keepest them in a chest, see to it, forsooth, that they be not moth-eaten; see to it that thou dost put them out in the morning sun to air, and shake them well, and look to them often. And now weary thyself in such work as much as thou wilt, yet shalt thou not be able to hinder but that moths shall consume them, since that the garment which is not worn, is always spoiled; and that which is spoiled is a loss. Go, then, and give an account of this in the other life. And because of this said Saint James in the fifth chapter of his Canonical Epistle : Vestimenta tua a tineis contesta sunt –  Your garments are moth-eaten; and if they are not consumed by material moths, yet they will be consumed by spiritual ones.

Knowest thou what are spiritual moths ? They are cursed avarice. Tell me, whence cometh it, that thou dost weary thyself with so much work all the year for these, and dost never wear them? Thou dost weary thyself all the year, shaking them and hanging them up on poles; and a poor woman standeth yonder and doth freeze with cold, because that she hath not even so much clothing as she hath need of. What thinkest thou that her shivering doth cry out to God in respect of thee ? ….And thou lookest on at the poor man who doth perish with cold, and thou takest no heed thereof. Thou dost not hear any sound of cries, forsooth. Knowest thou why ? Because thou sufferest not from the cold; thou dost fill thy belly with good food, thou dost drink thy fill, and thou hast many garments upon thy back, and ofttimes dost thou sit by a fire. Thou takest thought for naught else: with a full belly thou art comforted in thy soul. And how many shirts, women, have you sent down here to those unfortunate prisoners, eh ?

He goes after fashion trends and the obsession with following them:

In very truth if I might prevail he should make no new fashions! for do you not perceive that this is the destruction of your city ? I would add for you this as well : that he who doth make them, and she who doth wear them, and she who doth cause them to be worn, doth sin mortally each and every time; but far more the tailor, who doth bring in such a fashion: for with this sharpening of his wits he is the occasion of much evil: and this they do, forsooth, to gain thereby.

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The sermons of a saint are not magisterial, of course, but if you are familiar at all with the warp, woof and content of Christian spirituality from apostolic times, you see the consistent place that austerity, simplicity, modesty, self-denial and effacement have in the ideals to which all these teachers point. The wealthy might not be told to outright abandon their wealth, but they are also held to the same standards of modest, simple living as the rest of the humanity as well as frequently and regularly reminded that their gains are probably ill-gotten.

In short, worldly success is not, in historic Christian spirituality, seen as a reward or a status that protects one from criticism because your identity as a Christian with worldly success makes you a great role model. It’s the opposite. You remember – Camel, needle, etc.

How about this sermon on accumulating stuff and alms.

Now consider for a little that which God doth command us. A very little thing doth he command us. He doth not command that thou should give  more than thou canst give. He doth not wish that thou shouldst leave thyself with naught. He saith: Wouldst thou give an alms ? Then give it. Canst thou not give a loaf? No ? Then give a part of one. Canst thou not give wine ? Then give some water which hath -been poured over the lees. If thou canst not give even such wine, then give some vinegar mixed with water. Canst thou not clothe a poor man? No. Give him at the least, as perchance thou canst, a pair of drawers, or a shirt. Canst thou not aid the sick man ? See that thou hast at least pity upon him : have compassion on him, comfort him with words. Canst thou not deliver him from prison? No. Visit him, send him some- times a little soup, and have compassion for him. If thou dost take thought for this, it will be well for thee ! And therefore do I say that God will judge with perfect justice.

In a time in which, in one way or another, the prosperity Gospel reigns, Bernardine – as well as other spiritual writers from the breadth and depth of Christian tradition – serve as a corrective. He preached to mixed groups, to wealthy and to poor, and his words to the wealthy are always about the folly of putting faith in these worldly things and God’s judgment that awaits those who hoard and ignore the cries of the poor.

Following Christ, it seems, is not about mimicking and attempting to baptize contemporary values of achievement and self-fulfillment, but of something more simple and basic: loving as Christ did and treating the gift of life on earth as one to keep giving, poured out as He did.

(Episode 1 here)

Because of…obligations, and having one car for three people for the next couple of months, a couple of us went to Mass on Saturday evening.

It’s too bad because this means missing the shower of rose petals at the 11:00 Cathedral Mass, but…someone plays organ at another parish and had to get there somehow…

(I’ll have photos tomorrow from the Cathedral event grabbed from social media- or you can cut out the middle person and find them eventually, here. )

The intention was to go to the Cathedral, but when we arrived, the place was packed to the rafters. All the bulletin said was “Confirmation,” and I eventually (as in, this morning) figured out that it was the Diocesan Confirmation Mass. Held three times a year. Which…had never really registered with me. Shows how plugged in I am…

Sounds great, but seriously, there was not a bit of room, so we raced a few miles west to hit the 5pm (only 5 minutes late!) at the Maronite parish, St. Elias.

Which was odd, since part of my previous Pentecost post had related a homily I heard at Pentecost Mass at this parish a couple of years ago.

What was notable this time was an element I’d not encountered before – not that I’m an expert in matters Maronite at all – the Rite of Kneeling.

This is common to all Eastern Catholic Churches, I believe, and also the Orthodox.

There is, of course, far less kneeling in Eastern Christianity than in the Latin Rite. As the priest explained during this liturgy, there is no kneeling at all during Pascha as a sign of that Christ, through his Resurrection, has raised us to new life.

But on Pentecost – right before Communion – the Kneeling Rite is performed as a sign of penance (as it is always). From an Orthodox site, an explanation from Fr. Alexander Schmemman:

“We are invited to kneel. This is our first kneeling since Easter. It signifies that after these fifty days of Paschal joy and fullness, of experiencing the Kingdom of God, the Church now is about to begin her pilgrimage through time and history. It is evening again, and the night approaches, during which temptations and failures await us, when, more than anything else, we need Divine help, that presence and power of the Holy Spirit, who has already revealed to us the joyful End, who now will help us in our effort towards fulfillment and salvation.”

The Maronite version is here – the kneeling rite has three parts. First, we kneel on the left knee and pray to God the Father. Then on the right, praying to the Son. Finally, on both knees, to the Holy Spirit:

Deacon: Let us kneel and ask the Lord for His mercy. Bow your heads, O mortals, and worship God, the Holy Spirit. He speaks through the prophets; to visionaries. He whispers the secrets of hidden things; and to seers, He reveals the future. Then in the likeness of tongues of fire, He descended upon the blessed disciples. To Him are due glory and thanksgiving, now and forever.

Video here.

So, a happy accident. As I’ve said before, we are blessed here in Birmingham with a diversity in the Catholic demographic that might surprise some. But if you know the history of the place – a city that basically didn’t exist before the late 19th century, but once it was planted, grew because of the labor of formerly enslaved Black Americans and recent immigrants, mostly from the Mediterranean basin and the Near East – you understand why Birmingham has such a deeply rooted Jewish and Greek community, as well as Maronite and Syriac Eastern Catholic churches – and even a tiny Russian Orthodox church in an outlying, former mining community.

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What this emphasized to me was, of course, this feast of Pentecost as a feast of the Spirit’s presence in the Church. And yes, we emphasize this when we say that Pentecost is the “Birthday of the Church” – oh, maybe that’s something to bring out in the Substack – anyone remember singing “Happy Birthday” on Pentecost?

Anyway, that seems obvious, but it’s worth remembering when we are tempted to think of the presence and movement of the Holy Spirit in primarily personal, individual terms – as we are with all elements of faith, unfortunately.

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Some more Pentecost art for you – a reminder that each of the sites I link to here are worth putting in your permanent database for frequent reference.

Pentecost Art from Asia.

More on this piece in particular.

On an Andrew Wyeth painting:

Perhaps we are the nets in Pentecost—vessels torn and patched but full of God’s breath.

A small collection of Pentecost images from around the world.

“The Tower of the Spirit” by German priest-artist Sieger Köder

In order to depict this aspect, Köder contrasts the Pentecost story of language connection with that of language confusion at the building of the tower of Babel. We see the tower of Babel represented in grey and dark colours on the lower half of the silkscreen/serigraph. The people sitting on the scaffolding of this never completed construction are looking drab, dispirited, and lonely. In their stubborn, high-handed way and pride they wanted to build a tower reaching to the heavens, but God came down from heaven (!), ensured that they no longer understood each other and scattered them across the earth.

However, in the middle of the spiritless remnants we see a new building rise up, bathed in a warm, fiery glow. Below Peter comes towards us through open doors. In his hands he holds a book on which is written the Greek word ‘evangelion.’ The Gospel, the Good News of Jesus’ life and resurrection, forms the basis of a new construction, built by the Spirit. Behind Peter is the room where we can see the disciples with the tongues of fire on their heads. They are also still grey, but the Spirit already enables Peter to step outside, full of fire, in order to deliver his Pentecost sermon (Acts 2:14-41).

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From the Visual Commentary on Scripture site, a “gallery” of three pieces, with commentary. Sample:

All of them, by linking heavenly with earthly space, deepen earthly time with heavenly harmonics. They relate the monastic present to the apostolic past, the very beginning of the Church, validating godly lives. In these scenes the Apostles, still very much as earthly agents, become empowered for their special role by the Holy Spirit’s gift to each of them individually. And each of the three depictions connects this dramatic moment to the continuing heavenly mission of those who, by following the apostolic teachings, represent the divine authority that Pentecost bestowed.

The structure of the imagery in each of the three scenes brings heaven penetratingly to earth. On the page, and on the cloister pier relief, as much as in the composition of the scene in the dome mosaic, architectural relationships help to articulate the connection between biblical time and the present. According to many traditions of Christian doctrine, Pentecost is about understanding the divine origins of the Church itself, as endowed with the power and responsibility to bring people to salvation through the word of God. Making the Spirit’s descent visible illustrates the Trinity not just as a doctrinal construct, but as a divine relational reality, capable of responding to human need. Pentecost fulfilled Christ’s promise to his followers: he, as the divine Son (the second person of the Trinity), would ask the Father (the first person of the Trinity), who is Creator of all, to send them a Comforter in the form of the Spirit of Truth (John 14:16–17, 26; 15:26; 16:7–13). This Spirit is identified in theological tradition as the Trinity’s third person: one who would come to earth in ‘another’ form than through Christ’s human incarnation, and would be with them forever.

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More here.

Lots related to the feast, so we’ll start now…..

This is one of my favorite stained glass windows in town.

It was, for a long time, just a blur of colors on my right when I would attend Mass at this parish. But then I had occasion to spend a lot of time in this church building as the parish staff graciously allowed my son to practice piano and organ there, and I finally paid attention to it.

So, let’s take a look.

It’s a Pentecost window, of course. At the center top is the Holy Spirit, showering down those gifts on those gathered in the upper room.

And then, to the right, you have another figure – who is it? St. Paul, preaching, receiving the same light of the Spirit. St. Paul, of course, being the patron of the Diocese of Birmingham and the namesake of our Cathedral.

To the left is another figure – St. Francis Xavier, the patron of this very parish. He’s surrounded by symbolic respresentations of the Far East and the people whom he served.

The same Spirit, the same gifts, the same courage given to every link in the chain, from the upper room, through the various branches of the Communion of Saints that leads us to this spot here, in this church building, in this community, on this planet at this moment in time. And this is where you start – right here – and then keep moving, led by that same Spirit to speak – where ever you land.

Come, O Holy Spirit, come!
From your bright and blissful Home
Rays of healing light impart.

Come, Father of the poor,
Source of gifts that will endure
Light of ev’ry human heart.

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A post on a thought-provoking Pentecost homily I heard at a Maronite parish a couple of years ago:

The homilist pointed out that as members of this Church founded on this day, we are called to let the Spirit work through us to sanctify the world. To bring Christ. How do we do that?

Very importantly, he said, we do this through our work. Whatever that work is, that’s a primary way in which Christ moves through us into the world – as he said several times, the purpose of work being to make order from chaos.

And the example he used was his own work as a younger man in a Lebanese deli, doing dull, repetitive work, often alone.

Where ever we are, doing our work, we are called to allow the Spirit to help us bring Christ into that moment.

Refreshing, why?

Well, you’ve heard it from me before, and you are probably tired of it. But I’ll say it again, briefly.

The present moment of easy access to mass communication with a global reach combined with the American emphasis on success and achievement tempts us to believe – and to proclaim – that our call is always, always, always to “set the world on fire” and “change the world” and go big and loud and put ourselves out there.

Sometimes. But as a goal – that invariably becomes an exercise in egotism, pointing towards the self rather than Christ.

The movement of the Spirit points us, first of all, the place we’re living, relating and yes, working. Start there, be open, love the people in front of you sacrificially, go to sleep, wake up and do it again. 

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Pages above are (left) from the Loyola Kids Book of Catholic Signs and Symbols , then the Loyola Kids Book of Bible Stories and on the far right, the Loyola Kids Book of Seasons, Feasts and Celebrations. Click on images for larger versions. Remember that for the Signs and Symbols entry, there’s another page –  a full page of more detailed text.

Here we are –  For help in preparing the kids, and perhaps ourselves, let’s go to one of my favorite sources – this wonderful  old Catholic religion textbook.

The short chapter on Pentecost is lovely and helpful.

This volume is for 7th graders.

What I’m struck by here is the assumption that the young people being addressed are responsible and capable in their spiritual journey. They are not clients or customers who need to be anxiously served or catered to lest they run away and shop somewhere else.

What is said to these 12 and 13-year olds is not much different from what would have been said to their parents or grandparents. God created you for life with him. During your life on earth there are strong, attractive temptations to shut him out and find lasting joy in temporal things. It’s your responsibility to do your best to stay close to Christ and let that grace live within you, the grace that will strengthen you to love and serve more, the grace that will lead you to rest peacefully and joyfully in Christ.

Pentecost is one of the events in The Loyola Kids Book of Heroes. 

(The book is structured around the virtues. Each section begins with an event from Scripture that illustrates one of those virtues, followed by stories of people and events from church history that do so as well)

Finally, Veni Creator Spiritus – or Come Holy Ghost, as most of us know it.  I have a chapter on it in The Words We Pray. A sample:

I finally read Butker’s speech. I had no comment before this because a) I try not to opine on speeches or statements until I’ve actually read or heard it all, in context, myself and b) I am not interested in engagement in online iterations of the “working mother” wars in the Catholic world, which has been the arena for most of the commentary. It’s mostly just self-justification and sloganeering and not of interest to me.

But now. I’ve read it and whoo boy.

It’s a mess and perhaps a lesson to colleges everywhere to vet your commencement speeches. I don’t know if that’s normally done, but it probably should be. I know and “know” some folks involved in Benedictine who are smart, savvy media professionals and I’m pretty certain they could have shaped Butker’s ramblings into something coherent and maintained his central point.

Which was? I think – Catholics should be courageous and prophetic, both in the choices they make in their daily lives and the voice they bring to the public square.

Right? Was that it?

If it was, he’s not wrong.

However. Whatever he said, he said, and I probably don’t disagree with the core point of much of it, I would characterize his content as, essentially, “flailing.” I think that gets it. For example, sure, American bishops could be critiqued for being weak and careerist, but first – is this the place to go off on that issue? And in a way that is sort of random, giving the impression of pulling from various gripes you’ve heard from your circle? And – if you’re going to go there – without mentioning the impact of the recent history of sexual and spiritual abuse, what are you even doing? How courageous are you, actually?

So sure, I could go through this speech and pick it apart, including is material on women, but why bother? There’s other Issues of the Week to pick apart and the week isn’t over yet!

I just have two strong takeaways:

First, on the issue of women, men and family. How much stronger, less stupidly controversial and actually helpful his (valid) point on the relationship of life, family and career would have been if he’d not for one minute focused on women and instead considered the challenge of balancing these values for both men and women in this current, human-consuming world of ours.

Take a page, for example, from a recent piece at Mockingbird, which articulates much of the current thought on this within Christian circles:

In some ways, the sexual revolution and the egalitarian movement promised that women, too, can work outside the home and find happiness external to family ties. As laudable (and necessary) as this was, it traded one set of problems for another. Now women could be just as dysfunctional as men without consequence. Imagine a world, however, where men and women were called to mutual homemaking, where the career vs family struggle disappeared altogether. How would our homes be different if we were building something together versus being exhausted away from home and apart? Instead, we’re part of an exploitive economy that doesn’t end with the products we buy or those who make them. The exploitation comes after us all, twisting our desires and priorities into mutual enmity.

So much better.

But now. Here’s the tough stuff.

It seems to me that Butker certainly might have interesting things to say about faith, vocation, courage and the culture, but those interesting, actually helpful insights would have to come from a place of willingness to be honest about his own career and place in the world and a deep understanding of Catholic spirituality.

In short:

Harrison Butker makes millions of dollars a year for kicking a ball for an employer that does not, in the least, embody traditional Christian values on basically anything, from economic justice to sexuality.

Far more interesting than excoriating others who, in his view, fail to live up to the standards of Christian discipleship would be an explanation of how he views his own position and role as a Christian in the context of the NFL industrial complex.

Dude, you make millions for playing a game.

Yes, yes, we can say that his worth is determined by the value he brings to a greater entity, and therefore other people who, say, are employed because of his success. Got it. But can we set that aside and look at it from the perspective actually traditional Catholic spiritual thought and practice?

You are a part of, and therefor support an institution that is deeply, and totally oriented towards, not only profit, but exploiting human desires and yearnings for belonging, combat, entertainment. It’s an institution that turns a blind eye to criminal behavior and even to the physical harm this work has for its own employees.

How do you understand your role to be a prophetic disciple of Jesus there? Within your work context? How do you navigate that in terms of your spirituality and in terms of what you see in the institution that pays you that violates your values? How do you balance the fact of the huge income you make from again, kicking a ball with Catholic teaching on justice and traditional Catholic warnings about the dangers of wealth? How do you use your position to speak up for the truth in your own workplace?

This is not a screed against the NFL or professional sports, for what I’m getting at is that, indeed, these actual issues and problems that are obvious to anyone looking at the pretty meaningless job of kicking a football for millions of dollars for a secular, at times evil institution are not impossible to apply to the rest of us more ordinary folk.

For many of us work at jobs that don’t have deep, profound meaning on the surface. Even the jobs we begin with great hope, convinced that are the fulfillment of our dreams, gifts and talents become drudgery.

All of us who work do so for imperfect, compromised institutions.

How do we do that? How do we make that fit with our call to be conformed to Christ?

How does a person committed to discipleship understand the role of “meaningful” and “important” in the work one does in the world? What are the challenges of being a faithful disciple when one’s daily work means being part of a corrupt, venal, anti-human institution?

In short – you’re doing a stupid job for The Man. What’s the Christian path in and through that life?

In this case, I do think that millionaire-football player who is sincere in his wish to follow Christ might, if he is thoughtful, have something useful to say to the young person in the audience who’s looking at a first job in front of a laptop doing data entry or analysis, or even to the convenience store cashier who hates her job,  catches a glimpse of this talk on YouTube and pauses to watch because, hey, football.

In other words, Butker can, like any of us, get up and spout off about the other – whether that be bishops, priests or politicians. As much pushback as we might get for such talk, that’s actually and always easier than another way – a way that involves holding up a mirror and speaking honestly about the challenges of Christian discipleship from the fraught, conflicted, compromised place that we – not others – find ourselves.

I’m very pleased to have a piece I wrote on the novel The Feast published in The Humanum Review.

Check it out here!

And if you’re interested in my take on another obscure novel from the past, head over to read what I wrote about The Damnation of Theron Ware at Church Life Journal.

Finally, on the self-promotion front, a “20 Questions” interview with Living Faith, for which I’ve written for so many years.

Yes, this is out of nowhere, but perhaps you can find a contemporary application. I did.

The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, as most academic journals, offers a few “open access” articles. A current open access article is this one: “Eugenics and the Approval of Birth Control at the 1930 Lambeth Conference.”

The Lambeth Conference’s 1930 decision to approve the use of artificial contraception was, of course, the first time a Christian body had taken this step. It’s widely seen – condemned or heralded – as an important step in mainstream Christianity’s move towards compromise with the world on sexual morals.

But the motivation, process and logic behind the decision, as discussed in this article, was quite surprising to me – far different than the assumption that it was a simple capitulation to modernity – and I suspect it will be to you.

In short (take a deep breath because these convolutions might wear you out) – the thinking was that middle- and upper-class white Britons were not having as many children as their spiritual and patriotic duty called them to. They were obviously giving in to the increasing popularity and secular acceptance of contraception. In other words, they were not taking the traditional church teaching against contraception seriously because it seemed outdated and senseless to them.

So…(the thinking went)…if the church “updated” this teaching – moving away from the strong condemnation that came from the 1920 Conference – to be more in accord with modern, “scientific” thinking…all of these white Britons would start to take the church more seriously on other matters because the institution would be perceived as more generally credible – and therefore then listen more to the church’s call to have bigger families.

????

But yes.

According to Woods, the call of the Church to parenthood fell on deaf ears because the condemnation of birth control by the Church had subverted its own moral authority, as many found it to be a meritless position. This in turn was said to encourage the adoption of ‘hedonistic’ notions of human purpose rooted in self-gratification. In contrast, Woods believed that the qualified approval of birth control would furnish the Church with the needed moral authority to combat unChristian teachings and convince the middle and upper classes to live out their God-ordained purpose of serving the state through rearing large families. In this way, the cautious approval of birth control at the 1930 Lambeth Conference can be understood as an attempt by Woods to enact a nationwide fertility-manipulation scheme.

The “Woods” in question was Bishop Theodore Woods of Winchester, who was in charge of the process for creating a resolution for the 1930 conference. And yes, the conference ultimately ended up both condemning the “hedonism” that led to smaller families and giving approval to artificial contraception, again thinking that this approval would give the church greater moral authority, leading to members taking it more seriously on other matters, including having large families.

White members, that is.

Woods’s haphazardly arranged paper required careful reading, but his principal message was clear: a shift in the Church’s position on birth control was necessary to protect and advance higher-ordered moral teachings on marriage, procreation and sex. Of particular importance, the paper asserted that if the Church were to acquiesce on birth control, middle- and upper-class married couples would more readily receive instruction to rear large families. This call to parenthood was thought to be needed in the provinces of the Communion comprised of predominantly white populations, but Woods held England principally in mind...

….He added that while birth control was widely employed amongst the middle and upper classes across Western Europe, the Dominions and North America, ‘unskilled labourers’ lacked the foresight to use contraceptives, and therefore bred ‘unrestrainedly’. Woods also included a racial dimension to his assessment of birthrate patterns. He pitted the decline in numbers amongst the middle and upper classes against the comparatively rapid growth of the ‘negro’ and ‘yellow’ races living in Africa and East Asia. The bishop warned that, left unchecked, these trends would produce results ‘political and economical which are, to say the least, disquieting’.

Once happy with the draft, Woods presented his subcommittee’s work to all the bishops gathered together. He encouraged the delegates with the news that, while many young men and women were rejecting the teachings of the Church, these people could be called back to faithfulness – provided the bishops’ advice on matters relating to birth control and procreation better squared with contemporary sensibilities. Woods added that his subcommittee had sought to stress the importance of parenthood, and relatedly warn against the selfish use of birth control, which resulted in the diminution of the ‘stocks which are most needed, by reason of their quality’. Further revealing his eugenic convictions, Woods asserted that the subcommittee believed the choice to prevent the conception of such ‘superior’ stocks was deeply unpatriotic. 

…Woods’s goal of increasing birthrates amongst the middle and upper classes is central to understanding his decision to take up the mantle as the foremost advocate of birth control within the Church. At the 1930 conference, Woods made clear that he found the discussion of matters relating to sexual intercourse to be in poor taste, and he expressed the hope that conference delegates would never again have to address the topic of birth control. While he firmly held that birth control was morally permissible in certain instances, it was the supposed eugenic and imperial perils relating to the decline in fertility amongst the middle and upper classes that provided him with the impetus to overcome his prudery and champion the qualified use of birth control.

The text of the resolution:

Where there is clearly felt moral obligation to limit or avoid parenthood, the method must be decided on Christian principles. The primary and obvious method is complete abstinence from intercourse (as far as may be necessary) in a life of discipline and self-control lived in the power of the Holy Spirit. Nevertheless in those cases where there is such a clearly felt moral obligation to limit or avoid parenthood, and where there is a morally sound reason for avoiding complete abstinence, the Conference agrees that other methods may be used, provided that this is done in the light of the same Christian principles. The Conference records its strong condemnation of the use of any methods of conception control from motives of selfishness, luxury, or mere convenience.

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This is not what I expected to find, but then perhaps I should have expected it, since Christian leaders and thinkers of the period could be as enthralled by eugenics and enmeshed in racism as anyone – as explored in the study Preaching Eugenics, for example. (This review of the book summarizes the author’s findings.)

I was interested to read the Anglican arguments against contraception and see how, really, they were bound to fall, being as they were based on a foundation of …. not much. No real philosophical or theological grounding, at all.

Woods’ dedication to the shortsighted, blinkered idea that the faithful would take you more seriously on the big picture if you gave in to the culture on particular point was more surprising to me, but again, perhaps it shouldn’t have been, since I’ve seen this delusion about how human behavior works many times over the past decades in Catholicism as well.

I’ve often read the claim that if, for example, the American bishops weren’t so hardline on abortion, if they had more conciliatory policy proposals or just didn’t sound so darn rigid, their teachings on that and other issues would have more traction in society and culture. Setting aside the question of how “hardline” American Catholic leadership actually is, even on abortion, that has always seemed to me not only unrealistic, ignorant of human nature, but one more manifestation of what Ann Althouse terms “Civility BS” – that is, the call to be nice, which is actually the call to keep your inconvenient thoughts to yourself.

Yes, it was two weeks ago, but let’s finish up anyway. This and then a post on An Enemy of the People should do it.

I was getting my hair done (because, NYC…see if they can do anything more interesting with this graying puffball) and the customer next to me was sharing her weekend plans with her stylist. She was excited for the out-of-town trip with a friend. To where?

Nashville…

(And no, it wasn’t a bridal party. Just a fun weekend. I’m sure it was fun, adding to the population whoo-whoo girls riding around in open-air busses and cycling bars….)

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I had wanted to hit the New York Historical Society on Wednesday, but it was closed for a private event, so I finally got there on Friday. It was a little disappointing. I’d been there several years ago, and I remembered more of the collection being on display – specifically, I recall the entire storage area being glassed in and open for wandering. No more – there’s just a small exhibit in that area now. The main attraction was “Lost New York,” which was an exhibit of images of structures and sites that, of course, no longer stand. Beyond the original Penn Station and the Hippodrome, the saddest was the sculpture Lift Every Voice and Sing, created by Augusta Savage for the 1939 World’s Fair.

The resulting sculpture was 16 ft (4.9 m) high, taking the form of a large harp, with the strings represented by twelve black singers of decreasing size standing in long robes, supported by a long arm and hand representing the arm of god as the sounding board of the instrument – perhaps alluding to the traditional Spiritual “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”. In front of the harp, the figure of a bare-chested black man was kneeling, holding sheet music for the song. The plaster was given a dark surface treatment, and finished like basalt.

Savage named the sculpture Lift Every Voice and Sing after the poem and hymn, but the fair’s organizing committee renamed it The Harp. Exhibited outside the redwood-clad Pavilion of Contemporary Art, it became very popular at the fair, and many postcards and 11 in (28 cm) metal replicas were sold as souvenirs. There was no funding available to remove and store the plaster sculpture at the end of the fair, or to cast the large piece in bronze as Savage had with other smaller works. The sculpture was destroyed along with other temporary works when the exhibition closed after its second season in 1940.

Also, a Picasso-designed curtain for the Ballet Russe.

Also, Kewpie dolls for women’s suffrage:

The above was in an exhibit on “Women’s Work.” As was, unfortunately, this:

(“Marsha” Johnson, a male drag queen gay activist involved in Stonewall. May I repeat that: male. Featured next to an image of Sojourner Truth. “Women’s Work,” indeed. Ridiculous, insulting and wrong.)

Oh, is that not kind? Sorry. (Not really)

Most worthwhile, though, was the Tiffany exhibit – not just for the stunning shades, but for the exploration of the process, which involved a great deal of work – both in the construction and the design – by women.

(shades were formed/soldered over the wood molds)

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I was walking down 8th avenue and looked a bit closer at this building:

Wait, what?

If you click on it, you’ll see the Knights of Columbus emblem and well, the words, “Knights of Columbus.” And then above the windows, etched the names of various famed Catholics important in the origins of the United States.

Turns out, it was built in 1925 as a hotel/clubhouse for the KofC in NYC, but that didn’t last long – it was sold in 1933. It now has retail and 28 affordable housing units – but it must have more unaffordable units, since there are obviously more than 28 units in that building…

But the point is…when you’re walking…look up!

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Another disappointing museum excursion was way up north to the recently re-opened Hispanic Society of America – in a huge stunning structure in Morningside Heights. I went mostly for the colonial art collection…which was not on display. Upon rereading the website I see that it does describe its “most extensive collection of Hispanic art and literature outside of Spain and Latin America,” – but ah, does no specify that any of this is actually on exhibit. I suppose I should have read more carefully?

But no, I assumed, and that was my mistake. As you enter, there is a contemporary art exhibit, and then a room featuring a large mural. I looked at it all, looked for stairs or other doorways, saw none, asked two guards if this was it and they motioned around as a “yes.”

The primary attraction (and deserved) was the mural “Visions of Spain.”

Nearly 12 feet tall and 200 feet in combined length, the canvases that comprise Vision of Spain were painted by Sorolla at various locations in Spain between 1912 and 1919.

I did like this Joseph and Jesus, as well:

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I did hit MOMA for a bit.

This visit, I was most struck by Matisse’s The Piano Lesson, and regretted not knowing about it and having a print of it installed in our music room over the years of our piano lessons.

I suppose Starry Night is the Mona Lisa of MOMA….

I only visited the floors featuring the older moderns this time. I was impressed with the museum labels for the individual pieces and the gallery rooms. They were clear, illuminating and relatively free of jargon.

No Met or Morgan this time and the Frick was closed. I’ll be back, though. Almost half of the offspring will be living in NYC next year, so yes….

Some notes:

The Life photos that inspired A Snowy Day:

On May 13, 1940, a small photo essay was published in Life magazine, depicting an adorable little boy in Liberty County, Georgia, who had to take a blood test. 

Twenty-four-year-old Ezra Jack Keats (then Jacob Ezra Katz) saw and was inspired by the images of the boy. “His expressive face, his body attitudes, the very way he wore his clothes, totally captivated me,” he said later. He cut the photographs out and pinned them to the wall above his desk. He loved them so much that he hung onto them for two decades.

“As the years went by, these pictures would find their way back to my walls, offering me fresh pleasure at each encounter,” he explained. “[Later], while illustrating children’s books, the desire to do my own story about this little boy began to germinate. Up he went again—this time above my drawing table. He was my model and inspiration.”

As you’ve no doubt already guessed, the little boy in the photographs became Peter, the protagonist of The Snowy Day, Ezra Jack Keats’s enduring, widely beloved classic. Though he had worked as an illustrator for years, and co-written a book (My Dog is Lost!) in 1960, The Snowy Day was Keats’s first solo project.

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Appropriate for this past weekend: the “hidden mother” trend in Victorian photography:

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From historian Francis Young: 10 books that changed the way he thought about at looked at history:

2. Alexandra Walsham, Church Papists (1999)

Books that change the way you think about something will sometimes leave you raging as much as agreeing; it is not easy to have your cherished assumptions challenged. One of those assumptions I had when I arrived at university was an essentialist, black and white view of the difference between Protestantism and Catholicism. I only came to read Alexandra Walsham’s Church Papists (which was brand new at the time) as a result of procrastination, because I always used to sit in the history section of the college library. I noticed the new book and picked it up out of curiosity while putting off writing an essay, and quickly found myself angered by Walsham’s focus on a group of people who I thought should not have existed – Catholics who outwardly conformed by attending Protestant services. To my mind, post-Reformation English Catholics were the brave recusants – surely these Church Papists had not been real Catholics? But Walsham brilliantly demonstrated that religious history is always more complicated than it first appears – an insight that I have taken with me ever since. Few phrases are more important to the historian than ‘Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that…’. I owe that awareness of complexity to Professor Walsham.

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Jenny Holland: New York dreams:

New York brings out these ruminations in me. I have lost the thick skin — if I ever had it — that protects you from picking up on other people’s pain as you jostle for space on the subway or a crowded sidewalk. It exhausts me and haunts me. 

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I was looking for something else and ran across this Reddit thread of people sharing quotes from books that had impacted them. It’s always interesting to see what moves people and reassuring to be reminded that people are moved – that despite appearances, most of us still try to live deeply.

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A few recent episodes of In Our Time:

The Waltz

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Citizen Kane

Death in Venice

The Great Stink

Today is the feast of St. Matthias, who was chosen to take Judas’ place among the Twelve.

We don’t know much about him, but Benedict XVI brings him into his General Audience address on Judas.

The betrayal of Judas remains, in any case, a mystery. Jesus treated him as a friend (cf. Mt 26: 50); however, in his invitations to follow him along the way of the beatitudes, he does not force his will or protect it from the temptations of Satan, respecting human freedom.

In effect, the possibilities to pervert the human heart are truly many. The only way to prevent it consists in not cultivating an individualistic, autonomous vision of things, but on the contrary, by putting oneself always on the side of Jesus, assuming his point of view. We must daily seek to build full communion with him.

Let us remember that Peter also wanted to oppose him and what awaited him at Jerusalem, but he received a very strong reproval: “You are not on the side of God, but of men” (Mk 8: 33)!After his fall Peter repented and found pardon and grace. Judas also repented, but his repentance degenerated into desperation and thus became self-destructive.

For us it is an invitation to always remember what St Benedict says at the end of the fundamental Chapter Five of his “Rule”: “Never despair of God’s mercy”. In fact, God “is greater than our hearts”, as St John says (I Jn 3: 20).

Let us remember two things.

The first: Jesus respects our freedom.

The second: Jesus awaits our openness to repentance and conversion; he is rich in mercy and forgiveness.

Besides, when we think of the negative role Judas played we must consider it according to the lofty ways in which God leads events. His betrayal led to the death of Jesus, who transformed this tremendous torment into a space of salvific love by consigning himself to the Father (cf. Gal 2: 20; Eph 5: 2, 25).The word “to betray” is the version of a Greek word that means “to consign”. Sometimes the subject is even God in person: it was he who for love “consigned” Jesus for all of us (Rm 8: 32).

In his mysterious salvific plan, God assumes Judas’ inexcusable gesture as the occasion for the total gift of the Son for the redemption of the world.

In conclusion, we want to remember he who, after Easter, was elected in place of the betrayer. In the Church of Jerusalem two were proposed to the community, and then lots were cast for their names: “Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias” (Acts 1: 23).Precisely the latter was chosen, hence, “he was enrolled with the eleven apostles” (Acts 1: 26).

We know nothing else about him, if not that he had been a witness to all Jesus’ earthly events (cf. Acts 1: 21-22), remaining faithful to him to the end. To the greatness of his fidelity was later added the divine call to take the place of Judas, almost compensating for his betrayal.

We draw from this a final lesson: while there is no lack of unworthy and traitorous Christians in the Church, it is up to each of us to counterbalance the evil done by them with our clear witness to Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour.

The first sentence I bolded in particular helped me pin what is missing in the current Big Theme of “accompaniment.” The emphasis is on God’s initiative, God’s mercy, God’s love for us. All well and good. And a truth that needs to be heard and embraced by all of us.

But as I listen to this repeated so frequently, I start to feel infantilized — and not in the good sense in which Jesus speaks that we are all to be like children – open and trusting, – but rather in the sense that I am being told that I am helpless and, more than anything else in my life, need to be patted on the head and told I am okay.

On the contrary, Catholic spirituality has always emphasized personal responsibility – sometimes to an exaggerated extent that ends up laying heavy, needless burdens, but which also always ends up being reformed and corrected in the course of things.

But the fact is that the story of God’s people, from Israel through the Gospels, is the story of people whom God encounters and then invites to accompany him – a journey that requires sacrifice and even radical change. Paul is quite clear: our goal is to put on the mind of Christ, not seek confirmation of the rightness of our minds.

The Good News that is the climax of this story is the gracious gift of the Incarnation – yes, God accompanying us in the flesh – but then inviting us to him. The act of the Incarnation is not a blanket pronouncement that Creation is once again sanctified. It is an invitation for those of us who have fallen to move in the direction of the One.

Face it. When Jesus invites people to “follow me” in the Gospels, what always follows is sacrifice. Sometimes that sacrifice is articulated by Jesus himself:

Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself,take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it

…everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life.

Other times we just see it from the events unfolding: the apostles leaving their livelihood and their families. Matthew and Zaccheus leaving sinful livelihoods behind. The women of Luke 8 leaving their homes – where they presumably had responsibilities – to become a part of Jesus’ band.

We hear a great deal about accompaniment these days, and it is a good thing for us to hear: that we are not alone in the world and our true home is with God. Many people feel as if their decisions and habits have cut them off from God, irrevocably. This is not a new story.

Understanding that, it is then my turn.

I am gifted with freedom.

Freedom to ask, freedom to respond, freedom to counterbalance the evil with good.

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As I’ve let you know before, the small study guide I wrote for OSV on these talks was published to …accompany…the book version of the GA addresses. It’s out of print, so I have it available as a free download, which you can access here – and feel free to, and to reprint as you will. I think it and the study guide on the Fathers talks are decent foundations for personal or group study and reflection.

Using a resource like this, you don’t have to spend a dime for resources – it’s all online, and you can fight the terrible Catholic Parish Habit of charging people for catechetical resources and experiences.

“Come and see!”

(And pay.)

Below are the two main pages provided for this talk:

Today’s the feat of Our Lady of Fatima. Here’s a Fatima book illustrated by my friend and frequent collaborator Ann Kissane Engelhart:

Written by Donna Marie Cooper O’Boyle. Originally published by Sophia, but now apparently out of print – hence the (rare) Amazon link above.

Here are a couple of the interior illustrations:

Blurbs for the book have specifically mentioned the illustrations as worthy of note. So if this appears on your radar, remember that the very talented artist has other books:

And a fantastic Instagram page to follow!

And since we talk about the Rosary on the feast of Our Lady of Fatima – here are the relevant pages from the Loyola Kids Book of Signs and Symbols:

Remember the format: Left-side page has an illustration and a simple explanation for younger children. Right-side page has a more in-depth explanation for older students. This entry is in the section entitled, “At Home.”