"I proclaim to you a great joy.
God is here, you are beloved,
and this stands firm forever."

~ Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger,
Salt of the Earth

Ecclesiastical Smackdowns

The Italians Pass, the Austrians Flunk, the Brazilians...
The Bishops under Examination:

Papa Ratzi tells the Austrians:

“[...] You, dear brothers in the episcopacy, know this well: there are some topics relating to the truth of the faith, and above all to moral doctrine, which are not present in the catechesis and preaching of your dioceses to a sufficient extent, and which sometimes, for example in pastoral outreach to youth in the parishes or groups, are either not confronted at all or are not addressed in the clear sense understood by the Church."

Vocation VENT

Ugh. So, I was home alone for the past few days, and I've realized I rather like people. I can entertain myself, sure. But when I pass a day without seeing another human face, I get antsy. (Can you tell I spent Friday in my pajamas?)

I hate the "making a decision" phase of doing anything. I'm much happier after a choice has been made, cement has been poured over it, and it's been dipped in a vat of shellac.

I remember once, at a "decision-making" meeting, one of my co-workers suggested breaking up into small groups to discuss our options further, and I blurted out, in a mean kind of voice:
"I feel like that's a waste of time."
Yup. Practicing Catholic here. Way to represent.

Anyway ... I've had three days now to sit around by myself. Three days to do nothing but "discern my vocation," so to speak. (I think I hate the word discern too. It's over-done.)

Some time ago, I realized (praise God) that, as far as I know, my vocation is to the religious life. The only question that remains is: where? It's in my nature that I want to make a decision now, NOW, RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG YOU STICKWIT etc.

But I can't decide where, not for awhile. It would be imprudent, because I don't have all the information yet. The two communities I'm discerning (eww) are the Sister Servants and the St. Cecilia Dominicans. I've visited the Sister Servants, and they are da bomb. But I haven't visited the Dominicans yet. I'm doing that in January.

That means, for now, no decisions can be made.
I've got to Simmer. Down.

And when I simmer down, the Lord Jesus says to me: "Oh yoo-hoo, Beloved-child-purchased-with-My-very-own-Precious-Blood ... MY decision, yah? Not yours."

I love the Divine Will. It's so nice to know that I don't have to piece together some kind of plan for myself. Because if I had to do that, well... I think we agree, things would go higgledy-piggledy right fast.

Prayers for patience, please.

Don't Let "Turkey Day" Destroy America

Today is what some people call "Turkey Day." Good grief, I hate it. Nevermind that this day, November 24th, really has nothing to do with turkey. I know people who ate ham this afternoon, and I am confident that their celebrations have not been lessened by the absence of the gobble, gobble. The real reason to hate "Turkey Day" is that the ACLU loves "Turkey Day."

They love "Turkey Day," because the phrase is a useful substitute for the inherently religious term: "Thanksgiving." On Turkey Day, we eat turkey. Militant atheists (aside from the vegans among them,) can celebrate Turkey Day whole-heartedly. But on Thanksgiving Day, we give thanks. And thanks to who, exactly? Who is ultimately responsible for our health, our loved ones, all that gooey stuff?

God, duh.

So all this talk, (in public, too!) about counting our blessings and being grateful for the providence of a non-state entity, annoys secularists a great deal. Keep annoying them, why don't we. We don't want to end up like France.

We all know that, awhile ago, les francais forsook their authentic culture and gave a full french-smooch to a few self-loathing, eggheads in their universities. Discarding the way of life which had sustained France in her glory days, they erected, instead, a painfully artificial, secular artifice.

Living a lie is hard work, and the French have struggled mightily to do so. Aggressive oppression of religious speech is their primary method ... Resulting in a popular culture which somehow manages to be anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic and anti-Islamic at the same time.

Thus a segment of the population is left alienated, unwilling to melt into an atheistic pot. The French, panicking, attempt to assimilate them forcibly. So parents discover that they may no longer send their children to school wearing headscarves, yamakas or crucifixes. Mix in a group that is devout enough that they're "not going to take it anymore," and large enough to do something about it ... and you'll find that France is burning.

Don't be French. This is a free country. We can say "Thanksgiving."

Incidentally, I didn't go home this year. I'm here, alone, in my empty apartment. And I'm okay with that! I was thinking about it before ... and I got a blast of lightning idea:

My real family is the Church.
And we celebrate Thanksgiving at every Mass.

And then, I remembered: the very word, Eucharist in Greek, means Thanksgiving! How cool is that?

I've been memed .. again!

Daniel at Mirror of Justice has memed me again! Here goes:

Three names I go by:
1.Betsy 2.Elizabeth 3.Betta

Three screen names I have had:
Lilllabettt...That's it!

Three physical things I like about myself:
1.My grey eyes 2.My dark brown hair colour 3.My high cheek bones

Three physical things I don't like about myself:
1.My hairy arms 2.My stick-out ears 3.My tick, frizzy hair type

Three parts of my heritage:
1.Romanian 2.Austrian 3.Plain old American on Mom's side.

Three things that scare me:
1.Breaking my vows 2.Growing a hard heart 3.Humiliation

Three of my everyday essentials:
1.Library time 2.Computer time 3.Prayer time

Three of my favorite musical artists:
1.Gabriel Faure 2.Allegri 3.Tallis Scholars

Three of my favorite songs:
1.Requiem/Faure 2.Miserere/Allegri 3.Into the Deep/Bird York

Three things I want/have in a relationship:
1.Love 2.Intimacy 3.Fidelity

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to me:
1.Boys in uniform 2.Boys in ties and cufflinks 3.Boys with a Rosary in their pockets

Three of my favorite hobbies:
1.Reading 2.Writing 3.Mouthing off about philosophy

Three things I want to do really badly right now:
1.Eat some mashed potatoes 2.Eat them on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial 3.Go sit in one of the secret chapels of the Basilica

Three careers I've considered:
1.Teacher 2.Psychologist 3.Journalist

Three Places I want to vacation:
1.Bella Tuscany 2.Roma 3.Malta

Three kids names I like:
1.Josephine 2.Isabella 3.Peter

Three things I want to do before I die:
1.Kiss the Pope's Shoes 2.Kiss The Pope's Ring 3.Tell the Pope: "I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always, as long as I'm living, my Papa you'll be."

Three ways that I am stereotypically a girl:
1.I'm bookish 2.I'm polite 3.My hand-writing is gorgeous, thank you

Three ways that I am stereotypically a boy:1.I like baseball 2.I like football (the American kind.) 3.Wearing make-up is nuts

Three celeb crushes:
I don't crush celebrities.

Three people I would like to see post this meme:

1.Angela at Vive Hodie 2.My Sis at In Nomine Domini
3.Shanona at Natural Blue

Papa Turns the Screws

I'm pleased as punch. Mio Amato (pictured on the right in the awesome papal red cape we've been missing for a decade) has smacked down some loopy Franciscans. As Whispers in the Loggia reports, he's issued a Moto Proprio (i.e. by his own initiative ) which strips the Franciscans of their autonomous control of two Basilicas in Assisi.

Why'd he do that? Well, long long ago, during the papacy of the martyred Paul VI, the Franciscans were given control of the famous shrine of St. Francis. Then they started going a little nuts. The Independent calls them "adventurous negotiators." Hmmm.

Remember the famous pan-religious prayer services held at Assisi in 1986? This is what the Independent says:

" Ratzinger has not forgiven the Franciscan community for the excesses of the first day of prayer of the religious leaders with [Pope John Paul II]. It was a mockery, as many said, that forced the hand of the Pope, and it was the friars who broke the agreement they had made. They went so far as to allow African animists to slaughter chickens on the altar of the basilica of Santa Chiara, and American redskins to dance in the church."

Adventurous. Yeah, that's the word I'd use.

Now, the wobbly friars will be under the control of a Bishop. The Malaysia Star reports that they are being "disciplined" ... and that "Benedict's decree declares that the monks would have to seek the local bishop's permission for any future initiatives."

He "also told the monks that their religious celebrations had to adhere to norms."

Smack 'em down, Papa!

Eeek!

There's a mouse in my house! It scampered between my legs and into the kitchen last night. My flatmate and I built a barricade out of video cassettes and rolled posters, and sprinkled Mexican Four-Cheese Shredded Taco stuff on the flour to tempt him out of his hiding place.

Don't laugh. Obviously, he didn't come out.

I'm still working on the "Fanciscan Joy, Re: Small Animals" thing.

Feminists, Liberals, and the Poor

At my job, I get paid to grow my mind. It's really very cushy. But at my job, "growing my mind," usually involves sitting through some sort of excruciating boulder-dash about how meat is murder and God is a Liberal. Not so cushy.

Last week, I had to go to a talk given by Dr. Johnnetta B. Cole about how diversity in the business world is not only "fair," but also economically smart. Fabulous, says I. Diversity is great. Everybody get out your Crayolas and color me wonderful.

But, oh well, Dr. Cole is a feminist. You know what that means: she hates men. Her speech was splattered with words like "she-ro" and "her-story." I wanted to ask her, are you just trying to be cute? Or are you actually ignorant of the entymological roots of "hero" and "history," and the like?

Dr. Cole went on to say that, while she is President of a historically black college, no one should call her a hypocrite. Because she's running an aggressive, new diversity program to recruit new groups. Namely, White and Asian "womyn" in general, and Lesbians in particular.

You see, Dr. Cole presides over Bennett, a college for women. Bennett, so said Dr. Cole, may be historically black. But it should discard that tradition, because Black girls are going to encounter Anglo, Asian, (and Lesbian,) points of view after school, in the real world. And Anglo, Asian and Lesbian points of view matter.

At which point I wanted to scream: "and the male point of view doesn't exist in the real world? The male point of view doesn't matter?! Why in all of jelly jam am I getting a lecture on the importance of diversity from a woman who runs an institution which systematically discriminates against males?"

This lady, who runs her mouth endlessly about gender diversity, is President of a college with no gender diversity whatsoever.

Only in Liberal America, you guys.

Also: ever notice how a liberal's idea of serving the poor always involves some sort of "white man's burden," patronizing junk? For example: the Birth Control thing. In DC Public Schools, the organization I work for teaches a HIV/AIDS course, which includes a heavy emphasis on "safe [sic] sex."

This has not, and never will, fly in a rich, white, suburban school. The school board in Peoria will melt before it lets the "Making Proud [sic] Choices" curriculum into their schools. (Note that the Condom-happy "Choices" curriculum is specifically designed for "African-Americans.")

Because rich, white, suburban kids are too good to have condoms shoved into their pockets by cynical adults. Because everyone knows that only white kids have self control, and minorities are really just dogs in heat. The goal is to keep those icky, poor, black things from breeding and making whitey's world look less pretty.

And this racist, eugenicist crapola gets spinned into "compassion for the poor."

Only in Liberal America.

More Nun-Gazing

A Poor Clare Postulant receives her wedding dress ...
(I heart Franciscans!)



More beautifulness here.

Troop Morale is Circling the Drain.I didn't do it.

My division of the Corps has been broiling in malcontent for some time now, and it's really starting to get to me. Last week, we had to sever relations with a public charter school, because things have gotten so intense. Certain of my fellow peace soldiers have come this close to insubordination.

I, having read the relevant chapter in Dawn of a Consecration, knew that the proper thing for me to do was to be buoyant and cheerful in spite of it all. So I was. And now my PM has taken to calling me "Sunshine," and other things, which I don't like at all.

See, in the military, when the Commanding Officer wants to destroy Private X, the CO simply starts praising Private X, complimenting Private X, treating Private X with respect, all in the presence of Private X's unpraised, disrespected, fellow grunts.

The others Privates, thoroughly disgusted, will then turn on Private X and savage him for being an unbearable pain-in-the-tush.

So hoy-dee-hoy, I've got to prepare for my ostracization and inevitable thrashing. Of course, it's possible that my PM isn't out to get me, actually likes me, and is, in fact, making a horrible mistake by inadvertently sicking the Green-Eyed Monsters on me. Uck.

Okay, okay, okay

I know it's been a few days since I posted. Huge fat stuff has happened at the office, and I'm still working tomorrow. Gots to love the 60 hour week. I'll tell you all about it soon, I promise!

Ted Koppel, the USCCB, and Beethoven's 9th

Yesterday evening, I got to go to the Symphony!

The Basilica was having this concert to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of that wonderful document, Nostra Aetate, which went a long way in firming up the happy friendship the Church now enjoys with the Jewish community.

Anyhow, this concert was the late, Great, JP2's idea. He wanted to have it here, in America, because we have such a grand tradition of religious liberty. They played Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, with a fantastic choral rendition of "Ode to Joy." I generally think Beethoven is over-hyped (oh my gosh, he was deaf! Deaf ! ) especially compared to Mozart. But it really sounded great.

There was also a specially commissioned piece of work, which was narrated by Ted Koppel. (Yes, that Ted Koppel.) He read the letters of George Washington. Laugh not, he did a pretty good job. Sir Gilbert Levine, "the Pope's Maestro" or so he's been called, was the conductor.

My flatmate, Meg, was with me. (She doesn't like classical music the way I do, but she came along just to humour me.) There were so many people squished into the Basilica, we had to sit in a pew way up front, on the far, far right, where we could hardly see anything.

But it was near a side door ... and get this! I got to see a parade of Bishops! The USCCB is having its annual fall plenary council here in D.C. It turns out they had a special Mass at the Basilica just a few hours before, so they were all in the neighborhood.

So, I got a good look at them as they were filing past, some of them looking rather bewildered, a few laughing at jokes, others yawning, a couple fumbling to un-tangle their coats from their pectoral crosses.

Now, I really very much wanted to run and squeeze some knees! However, nope! I stifled myself. "Hugging Bishops around the knees is a huge and messy display," I decided. But I do love those dear old men so very much. I don't think some of them love me half as well :(

Enough of that nonsense. I leave you with a lovely passage from
"Ode to Joy" :

"O ye millions, I embrace ye!
With a kiss for all the world!
Brothers, beyond the starry canopy
Must dwell a loving Father.
O ye millions, kneel before Him,
World, dost thou feel thy Maker near?
Seek Him beyond the starry sphere,
Beyond the stars enthroned, adore Him!"

I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt

This is all over St. Blog's. You have got to love those Italian translators:

"Over the last 12 months," said the current Pope, "we have had five revered cardinals who kicked the bucket [...] We entrust their souls and those of the Archbishops and Bishops who passed away recently to God."

"Live Aware, Not In Fear" and a question for my readers ...

That's the title of a book I bought from the public library's book sale. The back cover explains that it is "A Teen Safety and Awareness Guide for the New Normal," a.k.a., life after 9-11. The authors promise that "this book respects your intelligence and powers of reasoning, and at the same time understands and honors what you're going through."

Bleech. I bought it to entertain my co-workers during our long travails on the subway system. It's mostly a collection of crisis scenarios, "what would you do" stuff written from the perspective of teen-age streams of consciousness. Very cheesy. I read it and wondered: "do "grown-ups" really think their kids talk like this?" I've been only one year parted from teenager-dom, and I've got to tell you, my intelligence was insulted, lol.

One thing I found a touch disturbing:

"As much as your parents wish this war had never been visited upon you, visited upon any of us, it has and your generation will continue to be tempered by it. Perhaps your life will even be divided by it. Perhaps you will talk of "the days before the World Trade Center" with the wistfulness of a child."

Now I realize: I don't remember what it was like before. I mean, I can't. If I think hard, I can sort of recall the feeling. But not really. And I think that is sort of sad. I mean, people will have kids who weren't alive before, and if they can't remember what it was like, who will tell their kids about it? Everyone will forget!

Geesh. I was 15 when it happened. You'd think I'd be able to remember, especially about something so important.

Anyway, my comrades and I have gotten a good laugh out of it, so now I'm considering tossing the thing. Its giving me the creeps. Not as much as the "Family Preparedness Guide" the D.C. government sent us in the mail, though. It informs me that our evacuation route is Rhode Island Avenue. Walk north into Maryland, in other words. "Don't forget to bring along your
"Emergency Go-Kit!"

Blah. The typical response is a joke, but gallows humour gets tiring after a long stretch, don't you agree?

Question for readers: Where were you on 9-11?
I was in school. Mrs. Swedenborg's World History class, I believe. I thought it was some kind of accident.

The Postulant Glow Is Back!

I bet you all will be pleased as punch to hear that the Dominican Nuns of Summit have a new postulant. Yay Sister Greta!

A Highly Relevant Poem

An excerpt from "The Descent of Dullness" by Alexander Pope:

"Philosophy, that lean'd on Heav'n before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.
Physic of Metaphysic begs defence,
And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.

Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.

For public Flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human Spark is left, nor Glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread Empire, CHAOS! is restor'd;
Light dies before thy uncreating word;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,
And universal Darkness buries All. "

Scientists, Theologians to Study Infinity

Gosh, I wish I were a scientist. Or a theologian. Can you imagine? Hours and hours of study and discussion on the metaphysical and cognitive reality of infinity. The name of the conference itself refers to "the ontological quest."

Gurgle, gurgle, drool, drool. I'm in nerd heaven just thinking about it.

O My Beloved Yankees, How I Loathe Thee

I was raised in Ohio, but I was born in northern Jersey. The first 7 years of my life were spent skipping about the immigrant-stuffed streets of Bergen County, half an hour from the George Washington Bridge and the gentle crash of Manhattan. And somehow, that makes me a New Yorker, for life. My little brothers were both born in Jersey. And even though the youngest was barely a year old when we left, he is a New Yorker, too.

Wow, that's nice you might say. Except a problem quickly arose among us exiled New-Yuck-ers. A problem that has divided a city and torn families apart for generations ... Yankees? Or Mets?

My little brothers are Mets fans.

As for myself, I admit it: I am a fan of the Bronx Bombers. I, God help me, root for the Yankees (or, as my brothers say, the Skank-ees.) I figured out why awhile ago; it's mostly because so many others hate Yankees. I tend to like unpopular things, just because everbody else despises them. Contrary little girl, aren't I? You must pity my Mother, my pediatrician and my kindergarten teacher.

So, I love my Yankees. But I can't stand, no, I positively loathe their irritating, truly ghastly performance! With their roster and that payroll, they should be selling their World Series Rings on Ebay! They should be attaching prosthetic arms to their bodies, just so they have enough fingers to wear them all! Geesh! And who'd they lose to this year? The Angels?!? It was bad enough when the Red Sox smacked us down ... but the Disneyland guys? Gee whiz!

In the aftermath, I feared Steinbrenner's wrath. I thought he might try to get rid of Joe Torre; if he had I would have busted a gasket. I heart Joe Torre, for he is Cool Beans. But thank you Sweet Jesus, it looks like his Greatness is staying put for next season.

Anyway, awhile ago, I came across this great thing from First Things Magazine's rather new blog, "On the Square," about my fellow in-mourning Yankee fans. Enjoy:

" [...] At Immaculate Conception down on First Avenue and 14th Street, where I say Mass regularly, I was this morning required to adjudicate a near-violent dispute between a young black man and an elderly Irish regular at daily Mass. Did or did not George Steinbrenner betray the Yankees by trading Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte, and Jose Contreras, all of whom now loom large in the series between the Astros and White Sox? I was tempted to quote Our Lord, “Who made me a judge between you?” But they would not be satisfied with that. Taking the side of Steinbrenner on anything is a losing proposition in New York. [...] It’s not easy being a parish priest. Nor did either of these gentlemen take any consolation from the prospect of the White Sox winning on Tuesday evening, although the elderly regular said he had been to Chicago once and it was “a nice enough town.”

P.S. I didn't watch any of the World Series games this year. Not a one! Black Sox versus Domers? Yaaawn!

Gotta love them Stasi!

Have I blogged about this before? Turns out the East German Secret Police were keeping one eye on JP2 and the other on our favourite Bavarian. Read below and note the last sentence, taken from their personality profile of the Cardinal. Those Commies sure are bright!

“Since the mid-70s, Ratzinger has been a close friend of the former Cardinal Wojtyla, for whose papacy he worked very hard and who tapped him in 1980 to organize the church's support in West Germany for the revolutionary developments in Poland, ... [he has] a certain winning charm, although he may seem somewhat shy initially.”

Goings-On-Lately

First off, here's a silly rant from LA Weekly about how Joseph Aloysius Ratzinger supposedly hates girls. Great insight into how the other, very wrong side, rationalizes things.

Had enough? Here's another write-up from LA Weekly, demonstrating once and for all, that you should not let the hippie nuns near your children.

Want some more? You should keep your eyes open, because the hippie nuns are everywhere, and they are incognito. Like Sr. Jeannine Gramick. Joseph Aloysius, (the one who hates girls,) smacked her down awhile ago. But she was allowed to talk at a bunch of impressionable students at the University of Detroit-Mercy.

Bad move, Mom and Dad. You should have checked to see if UDM had its mandatums in order.

Hark? What's that I hear? Art thou proclaiming forth the universal calls of submission: Uncle! and No more, no more, no more!

Well fine, I'll show you some mercy. Here's some lovely joy from Peggy Noonan. She writes about Rosa Parks, Judge Alito, and the Miers affair.

More Fantabulous Developments

Yesterday I had my first little discussion with my brand spankin-new spiritual director. I was all ready with my orthodoxy test.

It consisted of one question: "So, how do you feel about
Humanae Vitae?" I was so sure I was going to have to ask it, I practiced the Latin while walking down the street on my way to the meeting.

But guess what? My director is the essence of PODness. I should have guessed from the way he calls himself Fr. Green and not Father Bill. The first name thing, while a common practice even among faithful, holy priests, is required for memebership in the "We-dislike-the-Church-but-we-married-her-hoping-to-change-her Clergy Club."

Anyway. He's very nice and not intimidating or anything. He's a relatively new priest too; he's been ordained five years. And get this: he told me that this past week he's suddenly had 4 girls ask him about religious life! Wowzers! One of them is going to start a Women's Discernment Group, and would I like to join?

So, if you guys can't tell from the cheeky nature of this post, I am very slap-happy.

Also contributing to my euphoric mood might be the fact that I'm typing from my apartment in Brookland, and not at my office on U Street. Why? Because my PM gave us the morning off yipppeeee!!!

Letters From the Convent

I mentioned Sister Carly in one of my previous posts about the Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist. Well, now you can read the letters she's been sending home from the Convent. Enjoy. Some of them are pretty funny!