on condoms and confession

a version of this was posted on Ignitum Today.

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.

chicken parm

I've been talking to several friends about cooking for one or two - a lot of us are just out of college, either living on our own or newly married and living with just a husband. And most of us grew up with moms who cooked great meals for us and a healthy handful of siblings. How do you cook for one or two? How do you grocery shop for one or two? It's a whole different ballgame, and at times very frustrating. (What do you do with the bottom half of the can of pinto beans? How do you eat a decent meal at dinner time, not three hours after, when you come home hungry from work at 5?)

So I'll share my experiences and invite all of you to share yours.

Here's what I did this evening:

1. Thaw a chicken breast.
2. Put the chicken breast in a container (bag, pyrex, etc.) and add bread crumbs; shake till the chicken is covered.
3. Add a gollop of spaghetti sauce.
4. Spice it up! I usually get store-brand, boring spaghetti sauce and spice it how I like. This time I used pepper, garlic, basil, and rosemary.
5. Bake at 350, covered, for 45 minutes.
6. Pull it out and add cheese - I used grated mozzarella and parmesan.
7. Bake for another 15 minutes.

Here are some more things to try:
1.  Cut the chicken into smaller pieces. A whole breast was a little much for me. (Luke is working late tonight and wasn't home for dinner.)
2. Throw the chicken on top of spaghetti.
3. Spice it differently?

How would you alter this recipe? If you've tried it, what worked? What didn't?

radiance

What is beauty?

The philosophers say “id quod visum placet” – that which, when seen, pleases. Beauty is complete, proportional, and radiant, they say.

It’s easy to see what completion and proportionality are. If my left eye is missing or swollen out of proportion, I’m less beautiful.

But what is radiance?

My mother knew. Not so many years ago when I was a child, she read me the story of Cinderella from a picture book. She pointed to a drawing of Cinderella in her rags helping the stepsisters, dressed in their finery, on their way out the door to the ball. Cinderella, of course, was much more beautiful than the stepsisters.

“Do you know why?” my mother asked her melancholy daughter. “It’s because she has a smile on her face.”

I looked, and of course it was true.

Maybe that’s what philosophers mean by “radiance,” that elusive and undefinable characteristic of beauty – maybe they mean joy.

On Weddings and Elopements

Luke and I considered eloping.

Planning a wedding is hard work, we found. Our decorations were relatively simple; my mom planned the reception almost entirely; I gave the green light to my bridesmaids’ dresses and let them decide on their own jewelry, shoes, and hair. Even so, Luke and I were fighting for time to just hang out and be friends together, like we used to when we were dating. What do we want for music? Readings? Have we sufficiently included family members? Where can I find shoes?

On top of the work and stress, I became increasingly frustrated with the wedding culture. I didn’t know why I was supposed to be the star and center of attention that day. I didn’t think everything needed to be perfect. I didn’t see why it was important to register for four different types of wineglasses. I couldn’t figure out what was up with this constant word “bliss” – wedded bliss, marital bliss, happily ever after bliss. In most marriages I’ve seen, the living room is sometimes messy, dinner requires work, lightbulbs burn out, cars need maintenance, and children are born without great control over their own bodily fluids. I wouldn’t attach the word “bliss” to any part of earthly reality, and marriage is part of earthly reality. Wedding culture didn’t seem to have a great handle on reality.

Eloping was a way to escape all that, maybe start our marriage off a little closer to reality. But I’m glad we didn’t.

First, I am not advocating large, grand celebrations that break the bank and leave young couples with first-year salaries and student loans in ridiculous amounts of debt. We were fortunate to have parents who were able and happy to fund the ceremony and celebration, and we let them. For those who have tighter budgets or unhappy family members, it’s possible to work something else out. I’ve heard of couples marrying during a regular Saturday vigil Mass, the way you might see a baptism at a Sunday Mass. I’ve heard of couples skipping the reception entirely, or having a small cake reception in the parish hall. I am all for people spending within their means and having a celebration that is reasonable, given what they have available.

Second, I am not advocating unnecessary worry about silly details. I was fortunate enough to have a mother, sister, and cousins who delighted in making things look nice, so I mostly let them. Shortly after Luke proposed, however, someone told me of a bride who was in tears over what kind of plates would be used at her reception. Some things just don’t matter very much, and I think a bride in tears over plates probably did not have the right focus.

The wedding, my dad told me, is a prelude to the marriage. It should be beautiful and joyful and holy, but grounded in reality. In real life, not everything is perfect and not everything runs smoothly, and we’ll be much happier if we can accept that. The wedding should be that way, too.

And we’re glad we chose to invite a crowd to the church.

Wedding planning provided a helpful transition from dating to marriage. I noticed this first when we tried to register for kitchen knives. Kitchen knives may not seem like a big deal, but our moms had different kitchen knife practices (drawer vs block, differing acceptable levels of sharpness, etc.) and we had to decide how we would do things in our kitchen. The same was true through much of the wedding planning – we can only pick one entrance hymn, one gospel reading, one way of processing down the aisle.

When we were dating, we made a point of not making any decisions of consequence together (“Should I take this job or that job?” Or even, “Should I put the couch against this wall or that wall in my apartment?”) because our lives were separate and it wasn’t healthy to think of them as together. Now that we’re married, we barge into each other’s lives and make almost all our decisions together.  (“That coffee table is free and exactly the right height for my art projects.” “But our living room feels crammed already, and we don’t have room for a coffee table.”)  Planning the wedding helped us figure out how to make those decisions together before they really mattered.

Also, my mom wanted to celebrate. I complained frequently during our preparation that “this isn’t that big of a deal; I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” My poor mother. Her daughter was reaching a milestone in growing up. She was welcoming a wonderful man into the family as her new son. We were opening for her another avenue toward grandchildren. She wanted to tell all her friends, and all my dad’s friends, and everyone she knew. I remember, when my second brother married, my mom (who has two daughters besides me) looked at me and said “I have five daughters.” She was thrilled. “Weddings are the easiest way to get new daughters,” she said.

And it’s only natural to gather family to celebrate such an occasion.

Most importantly, however, marriage isn’t just for us. It isn’t even just for us and our children, if God so blesses us. It’s also for the world. At our wedding, we stood in front of about 150 people, many of whom I didn’t know, and vowed to love and honor each other all the days of our lives.

If I pack up and leave, I’m breaking a promise not just to Luke and to God, but to the rest of the world. I’m failing in my life’s mission and harming society.

If I neglect our kids and do a terrible job raising them through my own fault, it’s not just bad for the kids – it’s bad for the rest of society. If my kids become thieves, they might steal your GPS. Or, worse, they might hang out with your kids and encourage them in bad behavior.

If I stay married to Luke but treat him poorly and refuse to honor him, our children will grow up in a terrible household. They will have a hard time learning what love is. Our sons won’t see a need to treat women with respect, and our daughters won’t see a need to hold out for good men.

If family is the fundamental building block of society, our wedding vows are a promise to that society that by the grace of God we’ll hold up what we’re building; that we’ll keep this building block strong and not let it collapse.

Making our vows publicly reminded us that our marriage isn’t just a life together, but a mission.

Mission: Perspective

A version of this article was published at Ignitum Today.

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.

virtue is...

Ah, beauty. We’re tempted to pluck a couple more eyebrow hairs, worry about the color of our shirts, look in the mirror one more time. Or, under the guise of being modest and counter-cultural, we don shapeless denim jumpers, long skirts and tennis shoes, thwarting any glance that might come our way.

Either way, every other woman we see is more beautiful than we are. Oh, I want to be like her, we feel. We pretend we don’t care – beauty is vain and frivolous, and we are mature women, not vain and frivolous women. Our own beauty doesn’t matter, we tell ourselves. We’re above that.

Oh, but it does matter. And it’s impossible to shake this desire because God gave us our beauty to cultivate, not to worry about or smother. The world needs beauty, especially feminine beauty. As women, we have not just permission but a mission to fill the world with beauty.

Beauty invites. Just try to walk past a sunset without noticing, through a forest trail without wondering, into an art gallery without pausing. Beauty beckons: “Come and see, and be at peace.” It lifts our minds and hearts. It humbles us and takes us outside of ourselves.

Doesn’t the world need this? Couldn’t the average American stand to have his mind and heart lifted, to be humbled and taken outside of himself?

A beautiful, virtuous woman unwittingly proclaims “virtue is beautiful.” Her visible beauty attracts beholders to the invisible beauty of virtue. It’s not a matter of “I look great, and you’ll look like me if you do these certain things,” the empty promise of many clothing and jewelry advertisements. It’s not about looking better than other women or about the woman's body but rather Christ. A woman’s beauty invites, and if she is virtuous, her life points to Christ. Sunsets and forest glades, while good, can only vaguely point up. A life lived virtuously points squarely at God. Beauty draws others into that life in Christ.

Not one of us has a perfect body, and not one of us is exempt from the belief that a different color here or different shape there would improve things tremendously. But we have all been endowed undeservedly with feminine beauty. Let’s accept this gift the way we want our own gifts accepted by others – enjoyed and cultivated, not worried over or neglected. Let’s stop fretting about our looks, an attitude that proclaims “virtue is uncertain,” and instead gratefully accept the beauty God has given us. Let’s find clothes that complement our bodies without overemphasizing our sexuality. Let’s get cute haircuts, for pete’s sake. And let’s throw out the shapeless jumpers, the thoughtless clothes that smother this gift of beauty and proclaim that virtue is frumpy.

Then let’s live in such a way that everything we do points to Christ and magnifies him. Let our every action say “He that is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”

All you who seek to honor these doors,
Marvel not at the gold and expense but at the
Craftsmanship of the work.
The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work
Should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights
To the true light, where Christ is the true door.
The golden door defines how it is imminent in these things.
The dull mind rises to the truth through material things,
And is resurrected from its former submersion when the light is seen.

-from the door of the abbey of Saint-Denis

shortcut parenting

Why have we given up on our teenagers?

Over and again, any time an abstinence-only sex education program is proposed for public schools, the response is “but they’re going to have sex anyway, so we might as well teach them how to use condoms. Fewer teens will get STDs and fewer teen girls will get pregnant.”

It’s a ridiculous argument. First of all, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) report that more than 60% of high schoolstudents are not sexually active. Sex is prevalent, yes, but it’s simply not true to say that “everyone’s doing it.” Not everyone is. And I’m willing to bet a lot of money that the vast majority of high school students who are not sexually active have not been pregnant or responsible for a pregnancy and do not have any STDs.

And kids really do learn from their parents. When kids are young, most parents say things like “no, you can’t have that toy; your sister is playing with it right now” and “you have to wait till after dinner to have a cookie.” (Why not let them? Anyone who’s spent more than 10 minutes with children will tell you they’re going to fight anyway.) When the kids get older, many parents make sure their kids do their homework before they watch TV. They make sure their kids do their assigned chores and that they don’t watch certain movies. Kids learn these things.

Not every parent does this, sure, but many parents do – including many parents who say their teenagers “are going to have sex anyway.” The Guttmacher Institute reports that the most common reason teens have for not having sex is that it’s “against religion or morals.” Those morals – not stealing, not lying, doing homework – are almost always instilled by parents. There’s no reason parents should just stop being parents when it comes to teaching their kids about sex. The only thing preventing parents from talking to their kids about sex is the parents.

Know what you believe about what sexual activity is appropriate, and tell your kids exactly what you expect and why. Chances are you’ll do a better job teaching your kids what you want them to learn than will a school funded by taxpayers who disagree on sex education. If you want your kids to know how to use contraceptives, teach them. If you want your kids to save sex for marriage, tell them and teach them why. Help your kid understand the reasons for your expectations. Talk through ways of avoiding risky situations and relationships. Teens who understand that their parents care are likely to listen.

Many of my friends waited till they married or, if they are not married, are currently waiting. Almost all of those (myself included) have very involved parents – not obnoxious, not overbearing, but also not trying to be our best friends or peers. They used their parental authority when we were two and three to teach us not to take toys from our siblings, and while we grew, they helped us grow; they explained, in an age-appropriate way, why they taught us what they did. Their parental authority continued as long as we lived in the house, but it evolved as we grew.

Of course, even the best parents aren’t guaranteed that their children will act as they’ve been taught. But parents, if they are involved and help their teenagers understand their expectations – and if they actually expect those expectations – have much more influence than they might think.

And teenagers are capable of much more than parents might think. Figure 1: that 60%.

Don’t give up.