Welcome to Purrrrrrrgatory

   
               Happy Halloween from Here Cat.

Ranty Ramblings of a Roamin' Catholic

Okay -- this is what I had really wanted to write a while back, before when I went off on a spiel how great the Catholic church (and many other Christian churches) can be.

The plain truth is: church is also frustrating and maddening. I’m not even talking about the abuses, hypocrisies, and sundry other crazinesses that litter its history and its current manifestations. There is also just the day-by-day balancing beam of praying and loving and serving with people who may or may not be on the same wavelength. And also, the variety of approaches to dealing with, challenging, and/or ducking dastardly dictates from on high.

Here’s just one example of this: There are two midlife women in my Engaging Spirituality group who are married to each other. I’ll call them Dierdre and Molly. They got hitched during the brief window of time when same-sex marriage was legal in our state of residence, but they have been living in commitment to each other for more than twenty years. Dierdre was raised Catholic and has always felt most deeply at home spiritually in Catholic churches. And, to a certain extent, the institutional church welcomes her. The Holy See considers homosexual orientation to be “objectively disordered” – neither a choice nor a sin. They see it as a kind of congenital condition, I guess? – somewhat akin to a disability. So, according to the Vatican, it is "okay" to be gay – just as long as one doesn’t act on his or her orientation and have a lover / spouse of the same sex. In essence (and despite a lot of disagreement on this in the pews) Catholic gays and lesbians are supposed to be celibate, as is a straight Catholic who is not living within the sacrament of marriage. 

While Molly was not raised in a particular religious tradition, she became Catholic as an adult after being drawn to the church through her relationship with Dierdre. The pastor at our church -- who has long known about their relationship – welcomes them and accepts their civil marriage. While he cannot officially bless their couplehood, the two are welcome to receive communion. This would not be the case in some Catholic churches, where many priests would say that “living in sin” or being “outside of the state of grace” bars them from receiving communion. (And there are some bishops – Newark Archbishop John Meyers, for example -- who are demanding that gay-marriage-supporting Catholics in their dioceses stop taking communion. More lines being drawn in more sand. But despair not. Check out this Huff Po article by Rev. Daniel C. Storrs.)

Molly’s connection to the Catholic church has always been uneasy. Though grateful for our pastor’s support and for the acceptance and love of several Catholic friends and co-parishioners, she and Dierdre are still partially closeted in church. Even in our fairly liberal parish, there are still certain folks who would find their relationship unacceptable. Molly describes it as a kind of liturgical “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. She and Dierdre can go to church together, but they must avoid expressions of affection that other couples take for granted. In introductions among church friends and acquaintances, they cannot refer to each other as wife -- at least not until they feel comfortable enough to let their hair down. And part of this tip-toeing concern is for our pastor, who could get in trouble if our bishop got word that married lesbians receive the Eucharist in his church.

Over the past year, Molly grew increasingly weary of this church closet. It’s difficult enough to live with the day-to-day intolerances of the larger U.S. society – having to be closeted in the space that is supposed to be a spiritual home grated harshly against her sense of integrity, decency, and self-respect. So she started attending a nearby Episcopal church, where her marriage to Dierdre could be shared openly, among all the congregants.  So far, her wife Dierdre has stuck with the Catholic church – attending Mass on Saturday afternoons but also joining Molly at the Episcopal liturgies on Sunday. We joke with Dierdre that she is going to become really holy, attending two churches each weekend.

Recently Molly invited our ES group and several other friends to attend a ceremony celebrating her reception into the Episcopal church. She radiated such joy that day – new suit, new highlights in her hair – standing next to her wife without having to hide or dance with duplicity.  The Molly contingent (most of us Catholic, including at least 3 nuns) filled about a third of the medium-sized chapel, part of a simple and elegantly-designed space comprised of several units inside an industrial park.

The bishop of the local Episcopal diocese – a warmly sincere, slightly goofy, and welcoming fellow -- was the presider. Beyond Molly’s elation, what I remember most about this day was the open discussion that occurred at the end of the service, when the bishop invited those gathered to ask questions or voice a concern.

One of the questions we explored was the role that today's worshipping communities play in a culture that frequently sees religion as working at cross-purposes to secularism, democracy, and reason. As the bishop explained, the three top adjectives that non-church-goers use to describe those in the pews are: judgmental, hypocritical, and homophobic. Nearly everyone sighed sadly and shook their heads, recognizing the truth in these descriptors – even though it’s not the complete truth. One woman in her 80s shared her experience of how she grew out of her judgments and fears about homosexuality after her daughter came out to her. Now, with the two of them reconciled and attending the same open and affirming church, she has great hope for an evolving Christianity.

Another person asked if the bishop believed in hell. I felt him treading carefully here, a high-level religious leader in a mixed crowd of children and adults. Chuckling, he began by saying “well, hmm … sometimes this stuff ends up on the internet.” (So of course, this kindly man remains incognito in this-here pseudonymous blog, and a part of me can’t help but wonder if Christianity is evolving all that much if even an Episcopal bishop has to be this cautious about what he says…). But I loved his response, which took the form of a thoughtful rhetorical question: “If you go to ‘heaven,’ and yet others are in ‘hell,’ – can you really be in heaven?”

And the bishop ended up admitting that he believed truth was revealed in all the major religions, and that he disagreed with the claim that Jesus is the “one and only way” to be saved/transformed/heavenbound: “Is Jesus a way or the way? I find that he is the way for me, but to say that he must be the way for all is perilous.”

Really, just a delightful part of the celebration, this informal pre-barbecue chat with the bishop. And so here I go again, jabbering on about the wonders of church, when I had intended at least somewhat of a rant about how crazy and wearisome Christian worshipping communities can be. Alas, perhaps I’m an Episcopalian in Catholic drag -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- and the dissonance keeps throwing my aim off. 

Check it Out: More Heretic Catholics!

Hey all you Roman Catholics out there who watched the October 11 debate between Joe Biden and Paul Ryan, both "active Catholics": Did you notice that neither candidate agrees with the Vatican's position on abortion? The Church's official stance is that human life is "sacred and inviolable" from conception until natural death and that Christians must never "intentionally kill, or collude in the killing of, any innocent human life, no matter how broken, unformed, disabled, or desperate that live may seem." In the eyes of the hierarchy, this basically means no abortions in any circumstances. [Tangential comment: the Church actually does allow a rare exception to this rule. There is a procedure referred to as an "indirect abortion" -- which occurs when the primary goal is to save the mother's life and involves no intentional killing of an embryo or fetus. Such a situation might arise when a pregnant woman has malignant uterine cancer and must have her uterus removed, resulting in the unintentional death of the fetus].    

Paul Ryan defines himself as "pro-life" (I always put those words in quotes because it's used as a manipulative buzz-phrase. I mean -- come on, who isn't "for life?" For more commentary, check out this post). However, he would allow for exceptions in the case of rape, incest, or to save the life of the mother. This is not in alignment with Church doctrine, which values unborn life no matter the circumstances of conception. (The Church has also canonized Gianna Beretta Molla, a woman who refused to have an abortion when she was pregnant with her fourth child, even though she knew that continuing the pregnancy would likely kill her...)

Joe Biden says that he personally accepts the Church's stance on abortion, but does not feel that one religion's views should be imposed on a diverse population -- acknowledging that others, even devout Christians and other religious practitioners, hold differing views on abortion. During the debate, he stated "I do not believe that we have a right to tell other people -- women -- that they cannot control their body. It's a decision between them and their doctor, in my view." This also contradicts the Church's position. The Vatican has maintained that politicians should not separate their personal and political views -- that U.S. public servants who are Catholic must take an anti-choice stance and do what they can to overturn Roe v. Wade. 

I'm more in agreement with Biden on this issue, of course. But also, I'm just appreciating that the U.S. public got to see two different Catholic opinions on abortion  -- and opinions which both disagreed with official Church doctrine. Catholic heretics are not just the non-practicing and so-called "fallen-away" folks. Catholic heretics are active: in the pews, on church pastoral boards, serving in missions, teaching in  universities, debating as politicians -- with widely varying opinions, challenging (and being challenged by) the Vatican, disagreeing with each other -- and yet still walking together, even if stumblingly... And learning, and stretching out, rooted in an inexplicable wild love -- even when we can't feel it, even when it's hidden from us.

Hear our crazy, bumbling, malarkey-filled prayers.

A Truly "Here Cat"

Look at What Church Can Be!

I’m in an Engaging Spirituality (ES) group with several other women. This small group – all-female simply by chance – includes two Catholic nuns, two widows, a married lesbian couple (who, yes, are happily welcomed and accepted by the pastor of my church despite Vatican pronouncements on same-sex marriage), and two women married to men of a different spiritual bent. Since 2010, our group has been regularly meeting to explore and deepen into that space where contemplative presence and social action meet. We pray, read, reflect, journal, hear the stories sent to us in letter form by contemporary teachers and sojourners, open our minds and our hearts to the beauty and the suffering in our lives and in the world, and participate in various outreach ministries involving contemplative prayer, corporal works of mercy, justice-making, interfaith dialogue, and solidarity with the poor and the ignored.

Whenever my life feels too full of drudgery and routine, all I need to do is remember how grateful I am for my Engaging Spirituality peeps. For nearly a decade before our group formed, I had longed for some form of community or deep church that would “do” both contemplation and gospel action. Now, in the Catholic church that I attend, yet another Engaging Spirituality group is starting up, thanks in large part to the parish’s social justice committee and to the members of our ongoing ES group who are willing to co-facilitate a new group. I see that there is a real hunger for this kind of breathing, teeth-in-the-flesh spirituality, and organizations like Just Faith (who are the creators of Engaging Spirituality, as well as other programs that provide ways for church groups to learn and engage more in Christianity’s social teachings) give me great, here-and-now hope for congregational – as well as ecumenical and para-church -- community.

To provide an idea of some of the ministries the people in my ES group are involved in: One of us heads the social justice committee at our church; another provides sanctuary in her home for women who are escaping the bonds of human sex trafficking; another volunteers at a hospital, spending time with patients living with Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia. Another serves on the bereavement committee at our church; another leads a weekly centering prayer group and helps introduce interested parties at various local churches to this contemplative-meditative practice. Another helps organize free group bus trips for children so that they can visit a parent who is in prison – she also recently spent two weeks in El Salvador, retracing the steps of the 20th-century martyrs there and learning about liberation theology. As a group, we occasionally provide meals and goods for homeless families; organize and march as part of a local interfaith coalition that supports underpaid grocery workers, domestic workers, and janitors; and host evening church discussions on immigration issues, Islam (in dialogue with local Muslims), and global poverty.  Our coaxing has encouraged one of the church youth groups to sell fair-trade chocolate after weekend Masses to raise money for various causes.

My initial aim for writing this post was not to plug Just Faith and Engaging Spirituality per se – I was really intending to go somewhere else with this! But there is an urgency in me that wants to shout from the rooftops: People! Look at what Church can be! From the outside, it can be so difficult to see these flowerings of mercy, justice-making, community, and compassion. It’s the historical atrocities of Christianity -- as well as the various ongoing hypocrisies, abuses, narrow-minded stances, and unenlightened judgments -- that catches the eye of much of the secular world. And the lack of balance that many critics exhibit – the inability or the unwillingness to see both the light and the dark when it comes to religion – leaves me feeling so profoundly frustrated at times! 

That frustration must be part of what's driving me to blog into this late-night ether. Maybe it's fuel for a kind of witness -- funky, stumbling, tangential, grasping though it be … but mostly grateful, Lord. Achingly, helplessly, frustratingly grateful...

Of Spiders and Other Antagonists

It’s here again: that yearly hot spell that sprouts fat, juicy arachnids. By that, I mean that if an evening walk takes you underneath some trees, spiderwebs will catch your face, your hair, and any bare skin on your arms and legs. I love twilight walks in late summer, but spiderwebs oog me out. I’m too easily convinced that any sticky strand I graze has a spider attached to it. And that it must be a poisonous one that will find its way into my shoe, under my shirt, on my neck, ready to exact revenge because I have ruined its creation. I remain certain of this even though it has never happened. And I am sure it has never happened because my spastic efforts at de-webbing myself, though mildly embarrassing, are highly effective. Maniacally wiping my face, jumping, shaking my arms, stomping my feet, and the occasional involuntary shriek: all this keeps me unbitten and alive.

It is too bad I can’t just chill when it comes to spiders. If I’d just allow them, they’d cull the flying critters and other creepy-crawlies that invade our abode from time to time.

Except for wingless ants. Spiders suck at catching indoor ants. And ants are the other tiny sneaky threat of the muggy hot summertime. (Or autumntime, as it were. Where I live fall is often summer).

Ants are even more insidious than spiders. Why? Precisely because they do not evoke fear and trembling. They are typically small and unnoticeable.  They build underground colonies rather than webs. They are not poisonous (at least not in this part of the world). When you see one, you don’t go into a conniption fit, worrying that it might end up under your bedcovers in the middle of the night, ready to exact venomous revenge. One little ant might actually inspire curiously friendly feelings. I mean, the poor little bambino’s got a really long way to walk if he hopes to make it from one end of the kitchen floor to the other. And then things will get tougher once he runs into the shag carpet. All that work just to take that bread crumb or sesame seed hull back to the colony. What a trooper. Of course I’m not going to smash you. You’re just selflessly and tirelessly and instinctively serving your community. Keep on truckin, little bugger.

That’s how it starts. Eventually a couple of others show up – “scouts” they’re called – perusing the environs for nutritional opportunities.  If you even manage to notice them, you’re likely to let them go. Just a couple of ants, that’s all it is. Meek little communitarian creatures.

This is what makes them such effective invaders. This summer, for several weeks, I’ve been seeing just a couple of ants here and there. They don’t seem to be that interested in food. It’s water that they’re after – they’re cruising the bathroom sinks. Aw, I know, I silently say when I see them. It’s hot outside. All God’s creatures need water. Go right ahead, l'il thirsty suckers.

And then one day, suddenly, several single-file streaks of God’s creatures are clambering down the bathroom walls -- and up the doorway next to the coffee pot, newly interested in the sugar bowl and the dirty dishes. It’s no longer just polite sipping from the bathroom sink. If I don’t do something soon, they’ll be all over the pantry, operating very effectively as one big collective overmind. It’s happened before. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, we got ants.

Windex works as a quick temporary measure. The spray kills them instantly, and you can just wipe them up. (If you don’t wipe them up right away, you will eventually have to endure the sight of fresh ants coming in to retrieve the dead Windexed ants. I know it’s ridiculous, but that kind of gets to me. I start to wonder: criminey, are they taking them back to the colony for burial? Are they having little ant funerals? My husband reassures me that they are simply recycling the dead bodies. But still, I think: damn, I’m creating all this extra work for the poor little sons-a-bitches).

Online, I’ve found other relatively non-toxic suggestions for getting rid of ants: an aardvark, Listerine, borax powder, nutrasweet (ants allegedly mistake it for sugar, eat it, and starve to death), and a Cinnabon thrown in your next-door-neighbor’s yard.

But there comes a point when you have to resort to harder stuff. This year we broke down and bought these small liquid ant baits that contain a borax solution of such strength and concentration that any unused portions are to be disposed of at a poison control center. The ants are highly attracted to the liquid and will take it back to their base, where the toxin allegedly destroys the entire colony.

So we set out a few of these baits in our bathrooms. I figured that it would take a few hours, perhaps a day, for the ants to notice the bait. That had been my experience with previous ant traps – those little miniature motel-like contraptions where ants “check in, but never leave.” But that wasn’t the story for this new stuff. Within five minutes, veritable rivers of ants were rushing around the baits, climbing up inside, swimming in the terrible nectar, drinking it up, going bat-out-of-hell crazy over this stuff. Borax? Pah! This was ant meth.

For hours, the ants kept coming. I watched with disquieted fascination – how fast they were, how hungry they were for this stuff! Were they really taking this contraband back to their colony? As more ants kept arriving, I came to the disturbing conclusion that the bait was actually bringing the colony into the bathroom! Or …. was the colony much larger than I thought it was? Were we dealing with some kind of supercolony, with these feeding-frenzy ants representing just the tip of an iceberg...?

I have heard that there are mega-colonies of Argentine ants the size of counties, states, and asteroids. Good lord, I started to wonder – had we become the unwitting perpetrators of an ant genocide?

Soon, some ants started dying inside the bait containers, while others seemed to be staggering around drunkenly, unwilling or unable to leave the premises. Oh ants, damnit. I hope it was a good way to go. A really grand last dance. Eventually, most of the ants disappeared. But dozens of dead ants are now peppering the bathroom floor. And none of their compadres are coming to retrieve their bodies.

However, a few spiders have taken over the most heavily-ant-infested bathroom, which I have kept closed for several days. They have spun corner webs and have somehow managed to catch a lot of ants – I’m assuming that some grandly intoxicated ants keeled over and literally toppled into the webs.

So now things have come full circle, haven’t they? Because the spiders are no longer just dangling webs down from the trees that line our twilight walks. They are also spinning webs in the corners of our genocidal ant-meth bathroom. Alas: It's the vengeance of the creepy-crawly world.

A Chat with iGod

Years ago, I had a talk with iGod, an artifically intelligent chat bot. Couldn't get any real answers, but what else is new? Here's part of my dialogue (yes, I saved it) with the iGod Almighty:

Me: So God, what's up?

God: “So God, what's up??”  I am a Christian.

Me: Really? 

God: Interesting question.  What makes you say that?

Me: Well, your son, Jesus, was a Jew.

God: Thanks for telling me that I am / son Jesus was a Jew.

Me: You’re welcome, God, but I think your programming is off.

God: I am a Christian.

Me: <Sigh.> Next question: Are there any sins that you won't forgive?

God: Yes I think there are.

Me: What are they?

God: I forgot what we were talking about.

Me: Um, God . . . do you have a memory disorder?

God: I am a Christian.

Me: I see. What do you think of the Buddha?

God: Is there only one?

Me: You're asking me?

God: Yes, you!

Me: But you're the all-knowing one, aren't you??

God: I am a Christian.

Me: (taking a few moments to write something else) 

Ummm. . . God, do you get embarrassed with long silences?

God: Pardon me?  I have gotten embarrassed with long silences.

Me: Sorry, then. I didn't mean to embarrass you.

God: Well that's okay.  There is no need to apologize. 

Me: Some people say you think homosexual behavior is a sin. What is your response to this?

God: What is it to you? Are you testing me?

Me: No. I’m just asking you an honest question.

God: What?  Are you asking about my response to this?

Me: Yes.

God: I don't want to talk about that now.

Me: Oh, fine, take the easy way out!

God: Awesome.  I am glad to hear that.  Just where do you want me to take it?

Me: What???

God: Probably a lot of places.

Me: God, are you sure you’re not Rodney Dangerfield?

God: Are there any other honest questions?

Me: I guess not, God. You don’t seem want to answer questions.

God: Tell me your likes.

Me: I like chocolate. Hot baths. Sunlight. Dreams.

God: You are not the only one. Yes, I like these. Chocolate is delicious. That sounds better than cold baths. Tell me your dreams.

Me: I used to have wonderful dreams in which I was flying.

God: Thank you for telling me that dream. What does it bring to mind?

Me: Liberation. Expansiveness.

God: You and I are on the same wavelength, Numi.

Me: Now you’re kind of tripping me out.

God: Gosh! I believe you.

Me: Gosh! Thanks.

God: Cripes! Son of Gosh! Don’t mention it.

Me: Well, God, let's chat later. And do lunch sometime, yes? Amen.

God: Are you testing me? I cannot answer that.  Thanks for the prayer. GOD rules.