The L Word

It used to be that I avoided confessing weaknesses.  Part of that, no doubt, was growing up in a large family of unrepentant teasers with elephant-trap memories.  I still shudder at the recollection of assorted siblings chanting “Chesterton packs more pleasure / Because Chesterton is more perfectly packed!”  In retrospect, given his aphoristic style, it was probably funnier even than they realized at the time.  And I probably was insufferably in love with his style (cf. the title of this blog).

But now, being older and wiser, I am beginning to come to terms with certain … eccentricities that previously seemed too dark and devious to confess in the light of day.  (Speaking of which, we won’t talk about fear of the dark; that’s for another post.)  For example …

There is an entire category of words that I avoid using.  Anglo-Saxon words?  Well, no, for all the elaborate Victorian prose that sometimes festoons this blog, I do love a good British word when I find one: girth, for example, or hog.  Swear words?  Well, admittedly, this is not the most likely place to go looking for those.  But that is as much a matter of principle as anything else; and I am speaking of matters of taste (because what else does this blog exist to dispute about, hmmmm?).

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Here it is, the dirty truth: I don’t much like the word “soap,” and I really can’t stand “shampoo” and “lotion.”

Now before you start to back away with your hand over your nose (can I prevail upon you to take a sip of coffee?), let me assure you that I have no objections to routine ablutions.

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Mind you, as small children multiply, these routine ablutions may be …

curtailed in frequency and length. 

But I digress..

I fully understand that the difference between us and the Middle Ages is that we are clean and they weren’t, and that’s why we don’t have the Black Death.

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Actually, none of that is true.  Europe in the Middle Ages was relatively clean;

 and there are lots of other differences that are more important anyway. 

But again, I digress.

But that doesn’t alter the way I feel about these words.  The things themselves may be necessary; the words describing them are nasty.  Especially the L word.  Why could we not (instead of that) say, for example, rubcob?  Would not s--- be more fittingly represented by the sound poom?  And s------ by pillibalm?

But I digress; for my purpose was not to propose these alternations but to deliver a warning.  Here’s where things grow dark.  

 

There’s a conspiracy out there, mon frères.  A deep, dark, devious conspiracy to surround me with the L-word.  I’m not entirely sure what the motivation behind it is, and it probably won’t do me any real harm; but let me just lay the facts out before you.

First, I should observe that a number of my acquaintances, especially mothers of young kids who wash their hands multiple times an hour, frequently discuss their favorite L-products.  Church, barbecues, Facebook, store check-out lines, you name it: no place is safe from the mention of the L-word.

Second, it is becoming abundantly clear that, with the rise of Etsy and similar online platforms, as well as the Organic movement, more and more people are swapping and sharing recipes for home brews of the L-thing.  And if “home brew” makes you think of comforting autumnal beers rich in oatmeal and amber, think again: we’re talking more like witches’ brews here.

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I’m just waiting for them to come up with a “Pumpkin Spice” hand ----.

Third—and here is where the plot really thickens into something you wouldn’t want to stick your fingers into—there is an obvious plan to introduce young children to the L-thing at an early age, so that we are all inevitably surrounded by a generation Z+ who, having been swaddled from cradle to school bus in the loathsome stuff, will take it to college with them, enroll in classes on how to market it to an unwilling public, and then probably install it in wall dispensers everywhere, just like they have h—d s----izer now.

Skeptical?  Don’t think it’s a real conspiracy?  I dare you to google “baby bedtime routines.”  Just go do it, for me.  See what pops up.  Yep, that’s right.  It’s mentioned in every routine.  Every single one.  “Bath, l-----, books, bed.”  Maybe with a little “quiet play” or a “song” thrown in to sweeten the deal and make you ignore the obvious weirdness.  I mean, how many young kids do YOU know who like being slathered in stinky slimy soapiness at the end of the day?

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Oh, you do know some?

And where do you think they learned such disgusting heathen behavior?

Who’s responsible for this conspiracy?  Well, Big Pharma, clearly.  After all, someone needs to be making these (probably medicated) products for small children to use.  Big Organic probably has a hand in it as well.  The Freemasons are doubtless players (you’ll notice NONE of those “bedtime routines” mentions night prayers at all; it’s like they don’t exist; L is the new god of the One World Order).  And Silicon Valley is obviously involved, otherwise the Google results wouldn’t be so uniform.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m their target.  I don’t have those kind of delusions.

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Other kinds, now …

But I am saying that you should consider, very carefully, what’s happening around you.  I know it’s scary, but we can’t put our heads in the sand forever.  Awareness is everything.  Preparedness is all.  I recommend buying lots of canned goods, and don’t forget the can opener.

Oh.  And remember, whatever you do, don’t say the L-word.

... and No One Is Troubled

Once again, this comes from Boylan’s spiritual masterpiece:

“... The series of calls upon one’s time from members of the family, from visitors, and from the hundred and one other sources of interference with one’s plans, is almost endless.  We may have to draw a line somewhere if we wish to keep up regular practices such as prayer and reading.  Still, we should be on our guard against feeling that time devoted to family functions and to family fun is wasted.  There is a proper measure in everything; and each has a right to his own private life for some part of the day.  But those who live with their family need have no scruple in spending much of their time in sharing the life of the family.

“If they maintain a healthy interior life, they can find Christ in their family and be united to Him, even in family fun. To make a fourth at family bridge, to help to entertain some guests, to take a walk with one’s parents and one’s children—all such things can be more meritorious and more pleasing to God than private prayer or even, say, a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. A saint should be a very easy person to live with. Unfortunately, those who try to be saints are often quite the opposite. Might we refer them to the example of St. Jane Frances de Chantal? While she was still living in the world, St. Francis de Sales became her director. The result of his influence may be gathered from the comment of one of her servants: ‘The first director that Madame had made her pray three times a day, and we were all put out; but the Monsignor of Geneva (St. Francis de Sales) makes her pray all day long and no one is troubled.’”

Boylan goes on to recommend de Sales’s Introduction to the Devout Life, urging the reader to ignore the bits that are dated (advice which I cannot forbear repeating to any prospective reader of Boylan!).  The basic principle, in any case, at work in both de Sales and Boylan seems to be the same as that found in the Gospels: by their fruits you shall know them.  A good spiritual life will show itself in a person’s interactions with those with whom they spend the most time—and conversely, those who hope to maintain even ordinary charity (if that is not an oxymoron!) with those around them need to have a good spiritual life (whatever that means—on that, de Sales of course has much good concrete advice, and Boylan as well).

The Death Penalty and the Nature of Human Government

As the Register has reported, Pope Francis’s recent request for a reformulation of the catechism’s language on the death penalty (as relayed in the official CDF letter, which can be read here) has met with both cheers and concern among faithful Catholics.  While theologians and philosophers debate the proposed change and its implications for understanding the Church’s development of doctrine, a certain amount of confusion has arisen among ordinary lay Catholics due to the language used in the letter.  The key paragraph (#2) gives three reasons for revising the Church’s standard language on the death penalty.

If, in fact, the political and social situation of the past made the death penalty an acceptable means for the protection of the common good, today [1] the increasing understanding that the dignity of a person is not lost even after committing the most serious crimes, [2] the deepened understanding of the significance of penal sanctions applied by the State, and [3] the development of more efficacious detention systems that guarantee the due protection of citizens have given rise to a new awareness that recognizes the inadmissibility of the death penalty and, therefore, calling for its abolition.

The third reason is one that applies to modern states (if not, perhaps, to some third world countries), and constitutes a simple reiteration of an argument made by many Catholics, including notably Pope John Paul II — namely, that modern prisons being more or less break-proof and humane, the common good is equally protected by the incarceration of criminals as by their execution.  This is a prudential judgment—a claim that the death penalty is not necessary, rather than that it is absolutely wrong—and as such is readily aligned with previous generations of Catholic teaching.

The first reason is more complicated.  The wording—“the dignity of a person is not lost even after committing the most serious crimes”—presumes (a) that the death penalty necessarily is more contrary to human dignity than life imprisonment and (b) that there is only one sense of human dignity.  It is largely on these two points that theologians and philosophers have their debates; and as I am only an amateur on this topic, I will not venture into that minefield.

The second reason, however, is a matter of history; and here I have something to suggest.  The CDF letter says that today we have gained a “deepened understanding of the significance of penal sanctions applied by the State.”  The words are vague.  One plausible reading is that we now realize (based on new psychological studies, etc.) that penalties such as life in prison are in fact appropriate and sufficient responses to crimes such as murder, while the penalty of execution is excessively cruel.  (Of course, what constitutes the appropriateness of a punishment is another question—one to which, again, the professional philosophers and theologians are welcome.)

There is, however, another sense in which the modern mind has gained a new notion of the state’s penal sanctions; and it has to do with our understanding of the nature of the state.

Read the rest at the Register.

The Side on Which We Ought to Err

It is a point I have made before, but one which, I think, bears repeating; and it came up again in my reading tonight.

"We all know the cringing, fearful way in which a dog shrinks away from our caresses if he has been previously ill-treated by others.  One meets children whose arm goes up to ward off a blow as soon as anyone in authority approaches them.  The same sort of attitude is often found with regard to God.  He is thought of as a hard master, overexacting and meticulous, setting traps for His creatures, and almost only anxious to catch them in wrong-doing.  No true love of God is possible with such a concept in one's mind.  Yet such ideas exist, and we must take care that we are not responsible for their formation.  That is one reason why, if we must err in dealing with our neighbor, we ought to err on the side of mercy and kindness rather than of justice and rigor."--M. Eugene Boylan, This Tremendous Lover.

I should perhaps underscore that this is a statement what is preferable with regard to personal action, and not a remark regarding any religious or political group or subgroup in particular.  One of the sad tendencies of the world, especially perhaps the social media world today, is to forget personal sanctification in favor of top-down solutions.  The top-down stuff won't work, in no small part because most of those who really do want to make the world a better place aren't in a position to exert real power--but also because, even if they were, they would discover themselves hampered by this pesky thing called human free will.  But the little way operates in any political or social sphere, however dismal, degenerate, or dire.

Why the Martyr Wears a Crown

At the end of June and beginning of July the calendar of the universal Church is marked by the feasts of a number of well-known martyr-saints.  June 29th marks the solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, preceded on the 28th by Irenaeus and followed on the 30th by the First Martyrs of Rome; Thomas More and John Fisher had their feast the previous week; Oliver Plunket, Thomas the Apostle, and Maria Goretti the following week.  Mid and late July is thinner, but the little-known bishop St. Apollinaris has his feast on the 20th, and St. James on the 25th.

The presence on the calendar of so many martyrs raises the question—more striking with the martyrs of more recent eras—of the martyr’s crown.  The phrase is a familiar one, and the concept is old: a fifth-century fresco from the catacomb of St. Gennaro (unfortunately under copyright) shows Sts. Peter and Paul carrying their crown of martyrdom in their hands.

The crown is perhaps a puzzling symbol in our day and age.  The martyr’s palm is more easily explained: the palm branches from Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem, linked to the suffering and the victory of his passion and death, makes their association with the martyr’s sufferings commonsensical.  But in our (almost) post-royalty age, the martyr’s crown may seem outdated: a relic of times when we thought leaders of countries required a shiny thing on their heads to impress their subjects, or possibly to mark them out in battle.

I would not deny that a crown serves those functions as well: like any singular article of clothing, it marks its wearer out.  But there is a significance to decorating, indeed, to glorifying the head, which goes beyond mere convenience.  The head contains the brain, the seat of the mind; it is associated with wisdom, insight, good judgment … Perhaps the king wore a crown not merely to impress, but to remind his people and himself that his job was above all to be wise, to rule justly, to judge with “epikeia” (roughly: “reasonableness”).  That perhaps is part of the reason why English judges long retained the practice of wearing enormous and ridiculous wigs: because (on some unconscious level) people felt that they looked more impressive and specifically more wise and therefore worthier to be judges.

Read the rest at the Register.