A lovely lady named Dr. Savage spoke at an event that I recently attended. You can learn more about what she does here. Although I do not wish to plagiarize, I would like to tell you some of the great things she spoke to us about. So, with that preface, these were some of her main points:
Her own life story illustrated her message. Her peaceful and joyous persona made us want to follow her advice. When she spoke, it was what like an old sage whispering secrets of life, gently correcting mistakes, and confirming previous hunches.
She was a business woman, who rose quite high in her company. As she began to study church doctrine, she started to implement it into the company, which brought very good results. She got married later in life and then went back to school to get her Master's degree(s?). She currently teaches at the St. Paul seminary. Along the way, she adopted a baby and spent a few years as a stay-at-home Mom. While her life was not perfect(for example, she cried quite often for a few years when she was unable to get pregnant), she had one basic message: women have a place in the world, and it is through their motherhood. She neither wished all women to be unmarried company executives nor banished them all to the kitchen. Instead, she had an uplifting picture of womanhood. She had been happy as a single working lady, a stay-at-home mom, and a professor. Her message included the fact that women cannot "do it all." There is no way that a girl can feasibly raise a family and have a successful career.
Yet, she did not think that day care was evil or that stay-at-home moms were parasites living off of their husbands (these were two extremes that she brought up). The idea she gave us of the world was more of a concrete and complex world-view. She suggested honestly appraising the situation and placing our role as women of God. For example, this really affects the place of the single woman in the world. While being single is a vocation in the church, it is important to recognize that motherhood is the calling of all women. Of course, this does not mean that every girl needs to have children or even be around children. To truly live our vocations we must examine if they are for ourselves or for caring for others. (This reminds me of the good old Baltimore Catechism which said that no one should be single unless they were caring for an older relative).
This might seem unresolved, but seriously, its kind of the point of a life to figure out what we should do and how we should do it, right?
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Social Networking
Humans are social creatures, and women in particular are fond of conversation and an all-encompassing exchange of information -- who's dating whom, who's broken up with, what they wore and why they did it. We just like to know what's going on in the lives of the people around us. I've just been wondering lately -- when does a normal conversation about what other people are doing and thinking cross the line and become gossip?
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Joys of Confession
(My peeps, I am here to trumpet the virtues of a much-maligned sacrament. Bear with me while I make sweeping generalizations about the human race with little to no apparent scientific backing. Also, my theology is not the most profound.)
Society at large is fond of dissing confession. It tells us that reciting one's personal failings to a man in a dark little room is weird and twisted (then promptly heads off to its therapist's couch). Not so, gentle readers, not so. The human being is wired for guilt when wrong has been done -- it is not the sole province of Catholics. So, after accumulating guilt-burdens in assorted sizes, humans feel the intense need to tell all, whether that be through memoir, drunken family-reunion tirade, or psychologist's probing. Fortunately, we Catholics have a simpler (and cheaper) way out: confession.
It's a basic formula, really. Humans, as the fallen, flawed creatures that we are, screw up. This should not surprise us, sad as it is. We fall, we feel guilty, and, on a purely minimal level, we try to make the guilty feeling go away. Except with confession, it's not just the relief of letting the cat out of the bag, it's also actual, honest-to-goodness forgiveness from someone (i.e. God) who has the power to forgive you. Sure, there are still consequences and penances to be dealt with, but that's as it should be. Warm fuzzy feelings don't fix broken windows.
(No, duh, disclaimer: of course you should regret your wrongdoing because it is a sin against God as well as against your fellow-humans, and if we were all saints, we would all have perfect contrition every time we went to confession [or for that matter, if we were all saints we wouldn't need to go to confession because we wouldn't be sinning. But I digress]. But we're not, and I'd just like to point out the fact that, given that oddly persistent reality that Man is body AND soul, confession works wonders not merely moral [although that in itself is reason enough to go], but mental. This is just the way being human works, people.)
How does this relate to little ol' me and the college life? Because, like I said, confession isn't exactly the most popular sacrament. First Communion cakes, dresses and parties? Check. First Confession cakes, dresses and parties? ::crickets:: Confession naturally precedes Holy Communion. It's like washing your hands before dinner -- elementary and essential. But, because we are human and easily lose track of what is important and what is not, confession quickly falls by the wayside. It can be icky and awkward, although less so than you think. Come on. He's a priest. How many times do you think he's heard the same litany of sins over and over again? Unless you're an exceptionally wicked person, nothing you say will shock or scandalize him. Still squeamish about spilling your less-than-stellar beans? Go read the life of St. John Nepomucene.
Minimal wince factor aside, confession is incredibly liberating. Picture this: you've just made an honest, humble confession, said your penance, and, as you're walking out of church, you get squished by a falling piano. (This could totally happen) What now? Well, unless you committed a sin between penance-saying and piano-squishing, you go to heaven, and, even if no wayward instrument snuffs out your life, you're still on good terms with God and full of grace. This is an incredibly good place to be, and all for the time investment of roughly fifteen minutes. Eternal life for fifteen minutes? I think it's worth it.
Society at large is fond of dissing confession. It tells us that reciting one's personal failings to a man in a dark little room is weird and twisted (then promptly heads off to its therapist's couch). Not so, gentle readers, not so. The human being is wired for guilt when wrong has been done -- it is not the sole province of Catholics. So, after accumulating guilt-burdens in assorted sizes, humans feel the intense need to tell all, whether that be through memoir, drunken family-reunion tirade, or psychologist's probing. Fortunately, we Catholics have a simpler (and cheaper) way out: confession.
It's a basic formula, really. Humans, as the fallen, flawed creatures that we are, screw up. This should not surprise us, sad as it is. We fall, we feel guilty, and, on a purely minimal level, we try to make the guilty feeling go away. Except with confession, it's not just the relief of letting the cat out of the bag, it's also actual, honest-to-goodness forgiveness from someone (i.e. God) who has the power to forgive you. Sure, there are still consequences and penances to be dealt with, but that's as it should be. Warm fuzzy feelings don't fix broken windows.
(No, duh, disclaimer: of course you should regret your wrongdoing because it is a sin against God as well as against your fellow-humans, and if we were all saints, we would all have perfect contrition every time we went to confession [or for that matter, if we were all saints we wouldn't need to go to confession because we wouldn't be sinning. But I digress]. But we're not, and I'd just like to point out the fact that, given that oddly persistent reality that Man is body AND soul, confession works wonders not merely moral [although that in itself is reason enough to go], but mental. This is just the way being human works, people.)
How does this relate to little ol' me and the college life? Because, like I said, confession isn't exactly the most popular sacrament. First Communion cakes, dresses and parties? Check. First Confession cakes, dresses and parties? ::crickets:: Confession naturally precedes Holy Communion. It's like washing your hands before dinner -- elementary and essential. But, because we are human and easily lose track of what is important and what is not, confession quickly falls by the wayside. It can be icky and awkward, although less so than you think. Come on. He's a priest. How many times do you think he's heard the same litany of sins over and over again? Unless you're an exceptionally wicked person, nothing you say will shock or scandalize him. Still squeamish about spilling your less-than-stellar beans? Go read the life of St. John Nepomucene.
Minimal wince factor aside, confession is incredibly liberating. Picture this: you've just made an honest, humble confession, said your penance, and, as you're walking out of church, you get squished by a falling piano. (This could totally happen) What now? Well, unless you committed a sin between penance-saying and piano-squishing, you go to heaven, and, even if no wayward instrument snuffs out your life, you're still on good terms with God and full of grace. This is an incredibly good place to be, and all for the time investment of roughly fifteen minutes. Eternal life for fifteen minutes? I think it's worth it.
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