poverty of spirit

Find me over on Ignitum Today.

A few months ago, I quit the full-time job I’d landed right out of school, married a college senior, moved four states away, and planned to find work. It was taking longer than we expected, so in the meantime, we pinched our pennies: no bottle of wine to celebrate our first home together, no haircuts (which we both desperately wanted), no dinners out, no beer in the fridge, no dessert. Between the yardwork, freelance writing, babysitting, tutoring, and violin lessons, we wondered if we’d even be able to visit family for Christmas.

And so, I whined. I spent the whole three months pining after chocolate chip cookies, a haircut, and some new clothes (even if they came from a thrift store). I wanted so badly to have friends over frequently and cook fancy dinners for them, or at least provide them with snacks without secretly squirming. I sometimes got angry at my husband, who kept telling me (in that helpful way he has) that things will be okay – I only got angrier. God’s definition of okay is not the same as my definition of okay. I want a job so I can stop worrying about rent and finally get a cute haircut. In God’s idea of okay, maybe I wouldn’t find a job, and we would run out of money, get evicted, awkwardly ask family if we can move in with them, feel like total failures, and – well, I don’t know, grow in holiness, then praise God for it all. He does that to people. Haven’t you ever read a saint’s life?

I got a call the other day – a job offer. My vision cleared. Suddenly I’m embarrassed by my whining and panicking and the dirty looks I sometimes gave Our Lord in the tabernacle. Mary, I’ve got you. I know what you need and I will take care of you. Yes. Okay. Fine. You win. You love me, and I’ll stop trying to prove to you that you don’t.

Wouldn’t this have been easier if I believed all along what I knew?

Saints often speak highly of poverty, but it’s easy for us lay people to assume that since we’re not called to religious life, we’re not called to poverty. We hear about camels and needles’ eyes, and we comfort ourselves knowing that it’s not bad to have things, only to be attached to them – and we often don’t realize how attached we really are. I didn’t take a vow of poverty, but I’m living a kind of minor poverty, and I’m learning what poverty teaches best – detachment.

“Just as self-love is violent, turbulent, and impetuous, so the care that comes from it is full of trouble, uneasiness, and disquiet. As love of God is sweet, peaceable, and calm, so also the care that proceeds from such love, even if it is for worldly good, is amiable, sweet, and agreeable.” –St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

I couldn’t get that cute haircut I wanted, couldn’t buy new clothes, couldn’t order pizza on the days I didn’t feel like cooking. I need a job, just enough for rent and groceries, and a cute haircut – I’m not being selfish; we don’t need a yacht or a vacation to Europe. Let’s forget that foregoing the yacht and the vacation to Europe aren’t real sacrifices. I’m not greedy – and I’m proud of it. I wanted a haircut. It was frustrating, and I fought it, crying my little tears about how I just wanted to be financially comfortable.

I’m reminded here of a kid I babysit. He’s too young to know what a yacht is, but his tears look just like mine – frustrated and angry when he doesn’t get what he wants. His mom looks at him, shakes her head, and asks him “Are you two?”

He is. I’m not. I haven’t been two for more than twenty years. I still want pizza, but is spaghetti really that bad?

The job offer was a glimpse at things being okay. I looked back and saw that we hadn’t run into any disasters. I didn’t die of boring hair or even get a maiming disease from not having another cute shirt. I didn’t really need those things, and I don’t really need them now. Spaghetti isn’t that bad. The clothes I have are fine. We were always able to pay rent on time, and we never went without groceries. We even kept chocolate chips as a staple. Did I really forget to be grateful for my wonderful husband? The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want – but when I don’t let him lead me, I start wanting. And I start panicking, because I’m lost and I don’t have a shepherd.

I haven’t decided whether to accept the offer – there’s still a lot to think about. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll remain in financial limbo a little longer. No pizza, no long drives, no dinners out for a while yet – but I can be okay with that now. And I can be at peace.

Note: After I wrote this, but before it was edited and published, our job situation fell into place beautifully. Thanks be to God!

how a woman can win

This was originally posted at Ignitum Today. Pingbacks include Pillar of Fire and Big Pulpit.

“New research shows that The Pill reduces lubrication, arousal, and a woman’s ability to orgasm, thus lending credence to my theory that a lot of hormonal birth control “controls” whether or not you give “birth” by making you never want to have sex. We just can’t win with our ladyparts, can we?” –Jezebel

We women can’t win because we’re playing the wrong game. The Jezebel article sounds like a team of short people complaining that they just can’t win against the team of tall people in basketball. If you want to win, don’t play a game where the deck is stacked against you.

It’s so easy, comparatively, for men to enjoy sexual encounters without consequences. They can’t get pregnant and can easily walk away from the responsibilities of parenting, remembering to take the Pill, dealing with the side effects of the Pill, deciding whether to abort, and balancing all of this with the rest of life – careers, college, work. Oh, and men are less susceptible to STDs.

The deck is stacked against women in the game of increasing sexual pleasure while decreasing consequences. We aren’t going to win. As if it weren’t already obvious that we’re submitting to men and agreeing to their rules, My Daily Moment published a list of pros and cons of one-night stands which encourages women to enjoy sex like a man.

But why? Why should women do that? What’s wrong with enjoying sex like a woman? What’s wrong with being a woman?

Many women enjoy hooking up without commitments and obligations; I won’t pretend otherwise. But hookups are not risk-free, especially for women, and we bear the brunt of the consequences. It isn’t fair.

So let’s play a game that is fair – a game where women aren’t shortchanged, where we’re free to enjoy sex like women. Where we’re free to be women, and where it’s okay to have bodies like ours – bodies that, naturally, get pregnant from sex. Where pregnancy doesn’t ruin our plans, reputations, friendships, or financial stability. Where our sexual partners don’t get angry over our pregnancies but love us all the more – and stick around and help with all the challenges that come along.

The true liberator of women, I think, is Catholic marriage and motherhood.

Objection 1: Catholic marriage is designed to keep women barefoot, pregnant, and overwhelmed with screaming children and poopy diapers. It is also designed to keep them in the house not doing anything worthwhile while men are out doing Important Things.

I reply that: we’re playing the wrong game again. The short guys would have an advantage if they figured out what they were good at (debate? rock climbing? dance?) and challenged the tall guys to a game of that. Basketball isn’t the be-all and end-all of life. Neither are hookups. Neither are careers.

So what are women good at?

Motherhood. It’s something men cannot do. The Catholic Church says motherhood is awesome. And Catholics who are faithful to the Church (the ones who are against contraception) really believe that.

Exhibit A, a quote from a Catholic priest (Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty):

The most important person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral: a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body. The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature. God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation. What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother?

Motherhood is difficult, yes. But joining forces with God and bringing new life into the world? Lovingly caring for the tiniest, weakest, most vulnerable people? Forming and shaping the next generation, raising them to be responsible adults capable of making the world a better place?

Find me something more noble and more important than that.

Of course, Dad has an indispensable role to play, too, and if he is a good dad, he sticks around and contributes toward it. Motherhood is particularly glorious in that Mom gets to be the vessel in which God creates a new life.

So, let’s look at men’s role in all this – the second objection to my premise.

Objection 2: Catholics don’t believe in divorce. Women are expected to be chained to husbands who are probably abusive, or are otherwise worthless slobs.

I reply that: The Catholic Church expects more out of men than the modern feminist does. And men can live up to that.

The Catholic Church expects fidelity out of men, and men can be faithful. The Catholic Church expects maturity out of men, and men can be mature. The Catholic Church expects self-sacrificing, spouse-serving love out of men, and men can do this, too.

St. John Chrysostom recommends that husbands say this to their wives (and mean it):

“I have taken you in my arms, and I love you, and I prefer you to my life itself. For the present life is nothing, and my most ardent dream is to spend it with you in such a way that we may be assured of not being separated in the life reserved for us … I place your love above all things, and nothing would be more bitter or painful to me than to be of a different mind than you.”

The Catholic Church teaches that any kind of abuse is sinful, and as husbands have a particular duty to their wives and children, abuse of wives and children is even more sinful. The Church also teaches that it’s sinful to seek sexual pleasure from anyone or anything except your spouse – which means no affairs, no masturbation, no porn (which, incidentally, makes it harder for men to appreciate real women). Women who marry Good Catholic Men are pretty well-off – loved and appreciated for who they are, not for how well they do in bed. Those men are not leaving you to change diapers and manage your crazy hormones all alone.
Incidentally, Catholic wedding vows bind husbands just as much as they bind wives. While it is not possible to break the bonds of marriage except by death, the Church permits separation in the case of abuse, for the protection of the children and the abused spouse.

So what?

So we can relax. The Catholic Church provides a safe haven for women; we aren’t under attack here. Motherhood is seen as an incredible gift, and men rise to a higher standard of maturity and love their wives. Getting a lifetime commitment from someone who thinks you’re awesome and will give his life for you, and to play a game we’re naturals at – what could more liberating than that?

And that’s how we win.

on condoms and confession

a version of this was posted on Ignitum Today. It also appeared on Inspired.

Many of the pro-abstinence, anti-contraception types (mostly Catholics) will say that the “Don’t have sex, but if you do, use contraception” approach to reducing teen pregnancy is inherently flawed. They’ll say that the approach sets expectations low, and that it effectively says “Don’t have sex – but if you do, it’s okay.”

Of course, many of those same people march right into the confessional once a month or so. They’ll tell the priest about their spousal spats, their laziness, pride, envy, and lust.  “Don’t sin,” they say, and then they’ll add that “The Church, in her wisdom, knew we were going to sin anyway, so she gave us the sacrament of reconciliation.”

That translates: “Don’t sin, but if you do, go to confession” – so, realistically, confession isn’t all that different from condoms.

If that’s how we’re treating confession, we’re doing it wrong. The purpose of condoms is to reduce the risk of consequences; the purpose of confession is to change behavior and reform hearts. They’re different.

Note: Like anything sacramental, or anything Catholic, the reality of it is incredibly deep and rich, so to all you protesters out there – yes, there is more to it than that. But let’s stick with that much for now.

If we’re not truly willing to change our behavior and allow our hearts to be reformed, we are missing out on what God offers us through the sacrament. Condoms give in to the belief that teenagers won’t be responsible. Confession is a refusal to give up on greatness. And the world needs greatness, needs saints, needs to see holy lives. And why not our lives?

“The ways of the Lord are not comfortable. But we were not created for comfort, but for greatness.” – Pope Benedict XVI

How to Live a Good Confession
Before confessing, make a good examination of conscience. After examining, think seriously about your situation. Are you really sorry for what you did? Consider how your life would be different now if you had done the right thing then. Do you really wish you’d acted differently? Or are you just intellectually aware that it was sinful?

Then, do you want to stop doing this? Are you willing to work at it? To stay on alert for temptation, and when it comes, to look it straight in the eye and say No, I will not! And I don’t mean just now, but next week, too. Thursday. And again on Sunday.

Ultimately, Catholicism is not about correct answers to “What did you say?” or “What did you do?” but rather about “Where is your heart, really?” Your words, actions, and attitudes reveal where your heart is; a willful change in words, actions, and attitudes can move your heart.

Like any sacrament, confession takes place at a particular moment in time but carries forward; it’s a line in the sand after which things are different. The important thing is the “after which” part, not the line. Apologizing to your coach for skipping practice is a start, but getting back on track, or back on the court, will actually make you a better player.

In the words of Bl. John XXIII…

“This must stop, once and for all … from now onwards, I will really be good!” (Journal of a Soul, 28 March 1898 entry.)

That’s the spirit! Don’t assume you’ll do the same thing again, commit the same sins again. Raise the bar, and set your expectations high. The line has been drawn. Things are different now. Confession is not a condom; it is a refusal to give up. I will not be a slave of sin!

At the same time, be realistic. You know your weaknesses, so make a plan. Sometimes priests give penances that directly combat the weaknesses you’ve revealed to them. A priest I know told me he once confessed impatience, and his confessor instructed him to find the longest line at the grocery store, and when he got to the front, to get out of line and find the next longest line – then he could pay for his groceries. For a month. He hated it at first, but after a while learned patience and actually enjoyed chatting with the people in line.

If you aren’t this lucky, make your own plan. Learning patience at the grocery store will make you more patient with your family; learning discipline with your stomach’s appetite will make you more disciplined with your other appetites.

St. Francis de Sales recommends nipping temptation in the bud during morning prayer. Think ahead to your plans for the day. What temptations are you likely to face? How can you prepare yourself ahead of time to be ready to face them? I have a meeting with so-and-so today, and we disagree about something, and I’m probably going to get angry over it. Before the meeting, I will think of five things I honestly respect about her, and consider how much God loves her.

And, of course, constantly pray for God’s grace. Never stop. When we empty ourselves of sin, we must fill up with His grace until we overflow onto the world.

mission: perspective

A version of this article was published at Ignitum Today. It was also posted on Inspired, Monday, August 13, 2012.

It’s interesting how different reality looks when it’s on paper, in neat paragraphs, all in the right order. There, I am a powerhouse. I am strong; I am adventurous; I am embarking on a mission with eternal consequences and not looking back.

But for all my talk of heroism and mission, I’m often tempted to throw in the towel, despair, and give up.

I wrote earlier about how marriage is a mission, and how Christian married couples, if they shine as beacons of virtue, can take the world by storm and save the world from its sexual dysfunction.

But right now I don’t feel like taking the world by storm, or shining as a beacon of virtue. I feel kind of sullen and selfish. I’m mad at my husband (of just over a month) for asking me to leave the dishes for him when he gets home from work. I’m mad at him for buying a stick shift (the former bachelor thought it was manly) instead of an automatic. I’m mad at him for owning four coffee makers when I don’t drink coffee and our counter and cupboard space is cramped.

And, after spending much of our engagement preaching loudly about how stupid it is to expect a flawless wedding day, I’m still trying to compose the perfect toast for the occasion, and trying to make myself have given it.

When I start writing, I start trying to take the world by storm again. I start thinking I’m better than everyone else, as if putting heroism and virtue into paragraphs was the same as living it. (I am virtuous. You can tell because I’m happy. Admit it – I’m just oozing with irresistible joy, and you’re about to convert because of it.)

It isn’t enough to say these things. We must live them. And yes, marriage is a mission, and it requires hard work and discipline, just like marathons and Amazon explorations. But I’m on duty even when I’m not feeling strong and adventurous.

Some days I’m ready for a fistfight or wrestling match with whatever power of evil would tempt me to love my dear husband less. Some days I’m ready to climb mountains and soar. But some days I’m just tired.

Some days I have a bad cold, or a stressful afternoon, or not enough sleep last night. I’m a woman, and some days my hormones do weird things. Some days I don’t feel like cooking, and some days we don’t have leftovers. Sometimes my sense of adventure just has to wait.

But I have to love anyway. My mission doesn’t change, even on days when I’m just not feeling it. I don’t have to feel strong and powerful in order to love deeply and steadily.

Maybe instead of wielding a sword and forcing myself to be happy, darnit, about the coffee makers, the stick shift, the offer to wash dishes, I should just shrug and look the other way. I’m annoyed about some petty things. Okay. I know that, in the past, I’ve laughed about the coffee makers, felt proud at how far my stick-shift driving has come, and been grateful for his offers to help with housework. Those were emotions, too, and they’ll come back.

I never promised to be passionate; I didn’t vow inexhaustible energy or permanent cheer. When I’m not in the mood to deliver a powerful blow to the enemy’s face, when all I can do is sigh and return to my work – that’s what I must do. That’s my fidelity and commitment. That’s the love and honor I did vow.

And, for the days I don’t feel like doing anything heroic – that’s my job. And I can do that.