tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-315481882024-03-13T19:50:49.026-07:00Green Persephone"You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you," said the Lion.GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-75278672536832810402011-03-05T14:14:00.000-08:002011-03-05T14:38:33.062-08:00Pre-Lenten Reflections: Road to Assisi, Part I<p class="MsoNormal">It seems fitting, according to the overriding theme of my life’s pilgrim journey, that I should begin my personal weekend retreat to Assisi by waiting alone for two hours in an ugly train station.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Particularly when I should be on my train now, but – due to my ever increasing forgetfulness these days – I forgot to validate my ticket, and as a result was politely asked to exit at the next station (it was, ironically, this increasing scatterbrainedness that motivated me – with the disconcertingly emphatic support of my boss – to take the day off in the first place).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Having sought the conductor the moment I realized my mistake, I was, thankfully, spared both the patronizing lecture and the 50 euro fine.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But booted from the train I was, nevertheless. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I rather mourn the days when I could talk my way out of such messes, with big clueless American eyes and endearingly pathetic Italian.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unfortunately for me, my capacity for the language – while far from where it should be – has become good enough to make it clear to the authorities that I have been living in Italy quite long enough to know better.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">With one more hour to wait, and nothing to stare at but, well, an ugly train station, I’m consoled by the fact that most of my truly rich spiritual pilgrimages have a habit of beginning in places that are as paradoxically filthy as they are sterile.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was last Holy Thursday (coincidentally April 1), for instance, that I went to the Questura for my Permesso di Soggiorno appointment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The entire day consisted of trains, metros, and the ugliest, most dilapidated neighborhoods of Rome that are so industrial, so barren, so far from its holy center that one could hardly believe them to be part of the Eternal City; the irony of the fact that April Fool’s Day corresponded with my spending one of the Church’s holiest days in an area of the city devoid of any symbol of faith did not escape me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After a long, dirty, spiritually barren day, I finally returned to the real Rome, now after dark, to catch whatever seven Churches I could find, in order to venerate the chapels where the Blessed Sacrament had been reposed in a beautifully decorated throne, per the ancient tradition.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In spite of the loneliness of that day, nothing can compare to the profound poignancy of finding one Church after another, each gloriously and tenderly decking its Eucharistic alter in flowers and gold, in the knowledge that the following day would see the ignoble yet Salvific death of the One who was enthroned therein.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is something about the barren darkness that makes one see the Source of the Light in its most deeply intimate beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is of this, (if I may digress for a moment), that John of the Cross speaks in his poem, “The Dark Night of the Soul,” in which he compares the sense of God’s absence to a young maid secretly seeking her lover in the dead of night, with no light to guide her but the love she feels in her heart:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal"><i>Oh night thou was my guide,<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal"><i>Oh night more loving than the rising sun!<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal"><i>Oh night that joined the lover to the beloved one,<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal"><i>Transforming each of them into the other.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in;line-height:normal">(per the interpretation of Lorenna McKennit)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In His mysterious mercy, (if I may continue the digression) God has created an unexpected union between human sin and the loving tenderness of the dark night of the soul.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we fall in love with God, we do not become magically immune from sinning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Neither does love of God mean that, when we do sin, we love Him any less (we are, after all, still quite concupiscenced, and will remain so until the end).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Rather, the only real difference between someone who has fallen in love with God and someone who has not is that the one in love feels their sins more keenly, for they recognize sin as an offence against their lover.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“What puts the real twist into our hearts after our faults and small betrayals of grace” says the Poor Clare Sister Mary Francis, “but the aching knowledge that God loves us so tenderly and that we continue to disappoint and snub His love?” <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In this way, sin becomes, in an odd and unconventional way, a grace, for it sends us running back to Him for forgiveness, instead of laughing benignly at an indiscretion that, in our minds, harms only ourselves and offends no other.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Within the heart of God, sin is transformed into a dark night of the soul, purifying and even strengthening the union between God and the one He loves.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" align="center" style="text-align:center;text-indent: -.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">-<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->-<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>-<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Happily (and legally!) on the train now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With my luck, today will be one of the days when the conductor decides to not check for passenger tickets.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I has also occurred to me that my cell phone is about to run out of battery, necessitating me to keep it off in order to save it for emergencies.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>God is putting His own hand into forming the course of my retreat, it seems.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s just as well that He does; I’m terrible when it comes to organizing such things.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" align="center" style="text-align:center;text-indent: -.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">-<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->-<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>-<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I finally landed in Assisi, a tad later than I had intended, but nonetheless happy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After settling into my room (in the “new” city, right next to basilica), I stepped out into the piazza and felt . . . freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There is nothing like taking a pilgrimage on your own, and Assisi holds a significance for me that no other city on earth can claim.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The little house located inside the great basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, where St. Francis first cut the golden hair of the exquisite St. Clare and exchanged her queenly silks for rags, marks the centuries-long chain of events that led to my own sister entering the cloister Poor Clare Monastery.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This fact implies many things, one of which being I will only be allowed to hug my sister one more time before she dies: that will be on the 25<sup>th</sup> anniversary of her “simple” vows (I have fifteen years to go).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yet, in being part of this sacrifice I cannot help but feel bound to something ancient, for my sister’s decision to enclose herself forever into a monastery is a sacrifice that has been nearly 800 years in the making, beginning on that clandestine night when Assisi’s most noble and lovely girl escaped her father’s house to espouse herself to God.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Through my sister, I cannot help but find myself indelibly bound to a vast Franciscan family that can, with aristocratic pride, claim the noble Francis and Clare as its parents.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Goodnight, my dearest Assisi.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I will see you in the morning.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">(P.S. And for the record, the conductor did check our tickets in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Don’t forget to validate, folks!)<o:p></o:p></p>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-86040605310962757172011-03-02T14:16:00.000-08:002011-03-02T14:25:05.925-08:00Pre-Lenten Reflections: Preparing for the Mercy of God<span><div><span>Any excuse to begin an article with a quote from Miss O'Connor . . .</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; "><span style="font-style: italic; "><br /></span></div><i>"Mr. Head stood very still and felt the action of mercy touch him again but this time he knew that there were no words in the world that could name it. He understood that it grew out of agony, which is not denied to any man and which is given in strange ways to children. He understood it was all a man could carry into death to give his Maker and he suddenly burned with shame that he had so little of it to take with him. He stood appalled, judging himself with the thoroughness of God, while the action of mercy covered his pride like a flame and consumed it. He had never thought him self a great sinner before but he saw now that his true depravity had been hidden from him lest it cause him despair. He realized that he was forgiven for sins from the beginning of time, when he had conceived in his own heart the sin of Adam, until the present, when he had denied poor Nelson. He saw that no Sin was too monstrous for him to claim as his own, and since God loved in proportion as He forgave, he felt ready at that instant to enter Paradise."</i></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right; ">~ Flannery O'Connor, "The Artificial Nigger"</div><div><br /></div><br />Why are we, at times, inclined to dwell on our past transgressions? Doing so only leads us to fear the inevitability of our weakness in the future. It is true that all of us suffer from vices that we have not yet overcome, vices that are likely to attack us again and again. And, to be quite frank on the matter, there is a more than fair chance we will fail against our vices many more times before the end.<div><br /></div><div>We must, nevertheless, fear neither the inevitable temptations that we have yet to confront, nor the sins that we have yet to commit. Through the teachings of the Church and the wisdom of the saints, we can find rest in the certainty that God will give us all the strength we need to fight temptation. Yet, we still fear our weakness; why? What do our weaknesses matter when we know that, each and every sin of our past and future, be they are graver than all the sins in the world, will be forgiven completely, so long as we ask for it?<br /><br />Have confidence. His love is fierce, His mercy infinite, and even the greatest sin of our lifetime could never even conceive to withstand the terrible power of His forgiveness. Do not doubt reality of God's love; it is far more real than any human love. Therefore, when sins and human frailty weigh upon you, forget the eyes of the world. Turn, instead, to the heart of God.</div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-76640114728182200842011-02-09T13:55:00.001-08:002011-02-09T13:55:44.288-08:00Quirks in this here Italian life<p class="MsoNormal">I live in a little hobbit hole, and like many hobbit holes, internet access is sporadic at best, if one is lucky enough to have it available at all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Perhaps the hobbit holes of Middle Earth have, by now, advanced to such sophisticated and wildly available technological luxuries as having reliable internet in one’s dwelling, but Italy’s hobbits must still learn survive without such conveniences. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Therefore, when my need for internet arises, I am obliged to a tiny little hotspot across the street, thanks to the unprotected network of the small community of nuns who live there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When I say across the street, though, I don’t mean within the confines of the religious community itself.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I mean, on the sidewalk.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One particular 10 foot area of the sidewalk.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sans anywhere to sit except the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It must be admitted at this point that the nuns do not seem to have caught on to what I am doing.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Working as a communications contractor (or head, or officer – we have yet to settle on a satisfactory English translation of my job title), not having ready means of communication with the outside world can create complications, but I’m learning to adjust.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Perhaps it is that Italy, with such parents as Francis and Clare, can’t help but bring the Franciscan resourcefulness out of this poor student of communications.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This morning, for instance, I conducted my business from the curb and its magical hotspot of internet glory (only what was necessary, mind you, because I do feel a little guilty using a religious community’s internet without their expressed permission for mere pleasure).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had everything I needed: my little netbook, my cell phone, my mug of Dunk’n Donuts Coffee (yes, I drink Dunk’n Donuts Coffee in Italy, and I’m not ashamed!), and my fuzzy slippers.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In any case, there I was, happily crouched on the curb like a hobo, touching base with the journalist of one TV station via email, organizing a documentary with another via cell, managing invites to meetings, sipping my Jo, stealing internet from nuns, and being reprimanded by an Italian lady stranger for happily crouching on the ground like a hobo (because, to an Italian, young ladies who sit on the ground, especially in the manner of a hobo, will incur not only a horrific demise upon themselves, but will spread their misfortune throughout all the lands in the form of plague and birth defects and overall destruction of civilization.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Coincidentally, it should be noted that going barefoot indoors, going out of doors with wet hair, and drinking ice water and hot coffee at the same time, also have very similar catastrophic consequences).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What else could anyone want outside of the simplicity of life?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I am grateful that I am not one of the rich folk, who come here for short periods to see the sites, to drink fine wine and dine in the most authentically famous Italian restaurants.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I, rather, am the poor, homeschooled, socially awkward feral child of a miniscule Virginia town, who stumbles my way month after month through a foreign city, trying to make my way in the vast and professional world of communications (in Italian, no less) . . . and I could not be a happier misfit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My endeavors in the world of communications have not yet made me rich, and quite frankly, I’d be rather sad if they did (with the exception of having my debts paid off, that is).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There is a glorious color in life’s eccentricity, especially when the eccentricity is naturally occurring, and when it is born of poverty.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For a little American from a backwoods Virginia town, living in this city can be a constant assault of noise, confusion, humiliation, and heartbreak.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In order to survive, therefore, it is utterly imperative that one have a love for poverty, a love for the will of God, and a joyfully fierce sense of humor in the face of absurdity.<o:p></o:p></p>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-7131932039039347142011-02-05T12:37:00.000-08:002011-02-05T12:40:26.476-08:00the vocation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgarsg9nxob7e8Rt8kSJxQUGCpo4heAcVzsnyswH-KxVX2BFnJvTnO5OC6ROUQe90DiCczJuom6NZMA9TVXD_PkCyb_CvV6nEwXtSYuxX41xFzzS75nrWhIFU0zBnjvGZiRkPgfZw/s1600/26153_382555659028_509909028_3712053_6938040_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgarsg9nxob7e8Rt8kSJxQUGCpo4heAcVzsnyswH-KxVX2BFnJvTnO5OC6ROUQe90DiCczJuom6NZMA9TVXD_PkCyb_CvV6nEwXtSYuxX41xFzzS75nrWhIFU0zBnjvGZiRkPgfZw/s320/26153_382555659028_509909028_3712053_6938040_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570308022493915986" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The peace that comes from finding ones vocation (or at the least, when one finds the grace of discernment of a vocation) is like having a sword, dull and wooden as the Cross, plunged into your heart, where it is anchored into the Heart of Jesus. It is in this way that vocation brings peace, for it is anchored firmly in love, the security and safety of being in love.</div><div><br /></div><div>But what is not foreseen is that an act of love of a Creator entering into and becoming one of his own creation cannot happen but through violence. Instead of bringing earthly peace, the true vocation -- which is the face by which God wins over the heart of his beloved -- opens chasms of torrents and uncertainties, as well as graces and blessings. But, in the grace of vocation, one has eyes to see through the storms the towering pillar that is the love of God.</div></span>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-1067223321683764092010-03-01T00:17:00.000-08:002010-03-01T00:19:23.709-08:00A Lenten thought or two for the Pontifical student . . .<span style="font-style:italic;">“I have come not to bring peace, but a sword.”</span><br />Matthew 10:34<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“Fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.”</span><br />–C. S. Lewis<br /><br />The lay Pontifical student’s life in Rome is woven with more questions than our veins are with cappuccinos. When did I become more comfortable with men in collars than with men who have not taken a vow of celibacy? Have I fulfilled my “humiliating-moments-in-the-Italian-language” quota for the week? Why does the small chapel in our library smell never of incense, but always of apples? Was the reason some saints had the gift of bilocation so that they could make it to all of their pontifical classes? Why is night the only time when Rome becomes truly radiant? What is the sad story of the widowed barrister who works in the local bar, where coincidentally one can find the best coffee in all of Rome? <br /><br />And what on earth was God thinking when He called me here?<br /><br />The reality of living in this city cannot be condensed into classes, language, delicious food, beautiful architecture, and the historical and tangible affirmation of our Faith, all neatly and benignly suspended about us. Rather, these elements, along with our passions, our insecurities, our talents, our friendships, our love for our families back home, and everything that makes us who we are, clash into one another at every moment with a celestial violence that leaves all of the pieces lying in ruins at our feet. <br /><br />Yet, such is ultimately the destiny for all of us, whether we live in the Eternal City or the backwoods of West Virginia. It is not enough to simply acquire accurate knowledge and good habits; these alone, while giving us means by which to identify truth and to follow the motions laid out by it, simply do not have what it takes to lead us all the way to the very heart of the matter. True fulfillment of our humanity comes, rather, by surrendering ourselves to the reality that Redemption demands that we must first be devastatingly destroyed. It is not simply a purification of our poor habits and worldly attachments; it is an actual death to ourselves, our entire selves. The calling to take up the Cross is not only a call to suffer; it is a call to die, for it is only through death that we can become who we truly are. “Love, as mortals understand it, isn’t enough,” says C.S. Lewis. “Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country; but none will rise again until it has been buried.” <br /><br />But though, in the process of being rebuilt, we feel the pain of the nails being driven in, and our beams pulled apart, those of us who are called to be pilgrims in this city are surrounded by constant reminders that what we are being reconstructed into is a palace for our Father to live in. This is the special gift of being called to live in Rome, for here is the only city on earth where we fully witness the majesty of our faith in such a way as to not only give us courage to strive for Heaven, but more importantly, joy in the knowledge of what is waiting for us when we get there.GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-71706771720627307642010-03-01T00:02:00.000-08:002010-03-01T00:04:13.100-08:00"Gethsemane"<div>let us not now wake the sleeping hours that with mountains into this valley break. let the faltering woods that crowd our souls from the One who sees through the ashes burn. until this child of ebony seeks a fallen grace, yet fallen but redeemed. I've left all things, but You are not here; forgotten by my foolish pride, yet stand You there, to weep. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>I little something that I wrote many years ago . . .</i></span></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-50479199542185598412009-09-25T21:49:00.000-07:002009-09-25T22:44:40.400-07:00The life of JobOne of the greatest snares to one's life is a false trust in Providence, in which we believe that He is taking care of us on the basis that things are going right and well in our lives. But actual trust must transcend this. The fact that things sometimes fall into place, it is true, is a testament of God's love, and His desire for us to be as happy as possible in this life, so long as that happiness poses no threat to eternal life. Yet, real trust in God must prevail when things go rather badly, maybe even rather terribly. Because the greatest happiness for which all events in life lead us to is beyond this world; if God takes away all semblance of earthly happiness, it is not because He doesn't desire our temporal happiness, but it is because there is some hindrance in our lives that is a detriment to an unimaginable eternal joy. This hindrance may come from us, or it may come from something completely out of our control.<div><br /></div><div>God does not desire suffering on this earth that we may obtain happiness in the next. He allows suffering to help us see, but He does not desire to see us suffer, and would have us suffer as little as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>God does not redeem us through the evils of the world. He redeems us in spite of them.</div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-8102186907492220282009-07-07T15:11:00.001-07:002009-07-07T16:36:21.012-07:00Some recent thoughts on Christianity and the future of the Church . . .It has been so long that I don't know where to begin, and have no particular direction at the start. Therefore, I must excuse my lack of direction and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">organization</span>, as well as any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">generalizations</span> that I may have made.<div><br /></div><div>Life has moved me another small step in the direction of adulthood, increasing my awareness of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">childishness</span> of each step before this one, especially those steps that I, at the time, believed to be the most significant and wise in my life. The more I observe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">intellectualism</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">spirituality</span> of the most "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sophisticated</span>" kinds, the more I realize what children we are, trying to imitate Heaven, not aware that our high exaltation's are an infant's babble, almost <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">unintelligible</span> to the angels. I have found that I have both improved and declined. As I let myself go in childish happiness, I find that I am wiser; but at the same time, I have grown too much, and have begun to descend back into spiritual incoherency. <div><br /></div><div>Through my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">observations</span> of both the Church and of myself, I have started to see -- although I'm very far from fully <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">understanding</span> -- just how <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">corruptive</span> it is to liturgy and tradition to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">dichotomize</span> these historic elements from what it means to be a Christian. It is true that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Consecration</span> takes place in the traditional rites regardless of the sentiments of those <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">participating</span> in the Mass, and that God, being present, provides infinite grace; however, when such tradition is clung to, to such an extent where those who partake in it are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">hypocritical</span>, hateful, cruel and perverted, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">efficaciousness</span> of the Mass is affected. </div><div><br /></div><div>God is infinite, and there is not a single person who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">participates</span> in the Mass without sin. But the community is part of the Mass; many modern Catholics have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">misinterpreted</span> this concept and turned the Mass into a get-together instead of the worship of God that it is intended to be. Nonetheless, community is implied in the celebration of the Mass. Do not, therefore, the hateful sentiments held by some in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">traditionalist</span> community have the capacity to taint the reception of grace even in the Holiest of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">celebrations</span> and worship? It is not that such hypocrisy dampens the "feelings" of holiness; but such company, even in a liturgical celebration, has the power to dampen the ability to perceive and remember virtue. </div><div><br /></div><div>Is it better, when one has a choice, to participate in a technically higher for of worship when you are entering into a community that loves tradition and hates Christ, while one can go to a simpler but equally valid mode of worship where the community may be simpler, but are seeking to love God? Some say that there is greater risk of sacrilege in the simpler liturgies; but is a perfectly celebrated traditional Mass free of sacrilege when its celebrated by people who are shamelessly open about their <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">hypocrisy</span> and perversion? And is this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">sacrilege</span> better simply because it occurs in a traditional format?</div><div><br /></div><div>The traditional liturgies are historical, beautiful, and should be maintained and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">participated</span> in. But in all honesty, the world isn't capable of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">understanding</span> it, because Catholics both liberal and ultra-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">conservative</span> have forgotten that they are Christians. The problems began long before Vatican II -- the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">council</span> would never have resulted in such abuse had the Church been so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">disconnected</span> from Her roots that she was able to be torn to shreds so easily. </div><div><br /></div><div>Therefore, before orthodoxy can return to the Church, She must first return to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Christianity</span>. The benefits of such a return have already been seen in England, through the Catholic Literary Revival and its followers. By returning to the Gospels, the Epistles, and the Fathers, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">prominent</span> members of the Church of England found themselves in a conversion of both intellect and faith to the Catholic Church. Even C.S. Lewis, who never took the step to become Catholic, came closer to the truth of the Church than most Catholics will ever come; many converts attribute their conversion to Catholicism -- Catholicism, not merely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Christianity</span> -- to Lewis.</div><div><br /></div><div>If returning to the Christian roots, simple common sense though they were in many ways, could lead to such a powerful revolution of intellect and faith in the minds and hearts of Anglicans, one can only imagine the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">possibilities</span> if such a "revolution" were to occur within the Church Herself.</div></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-36452023528846920962008-04-13T21:50:00.001-07:002008-11-13T03:28:17.271-08:00John Paul 2 High<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwfQtPLmS28c0YpX2SjxSeRnSLrgcXujiloU1hXID1-apGrrn2Jm4Gbh7RRgpzIPTlcvPehq8GBn4R45E1Z5huyjZ191e5ZG5LjZsJYmpz0d95W8_P9o3-v0gsj7xDNK7dJdYKw/s1600-h/997.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188965998990109810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwfQtPLmS28c0YpX2SjxSeRnSLrgcXujiloU1hXID1-apGrrn2Jm4Gbh7RRgpzIPTlcvPehq8GBn4R45E1Z5huyjZ191e5ZG5LjZsJYmpz0d95W8_P9o3-v0gsj7xDNK7dJdYKw/s400/997.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>"One start-up school. Seven mismatched kids. Catholic truth. . . . Craziness . . . </em></div><br /><div><br /><em>When their parents decide to start a new high school, George, Celia, Liz, J.P., Brian, and James are all thrown together, although they have almost nothing in common. George and Celia attended the local Catholic high school, Brian and James were homeschooled. Liz just wants to attend a school where she can play sports, and J.P. just wants to make trouble.<br />Then there's a shooting at the local public high school,and Allie Weaver joins the class . . ."</em></div><br /><div></div>This is a great series for Catholic teenagers, and is important in the ever growing effort to promote good Catholic art to youth in our secular-driven world. The first book in this series, <em>Catholic Reluctantly</em>, has finally been published, and we are now asking for all the support that we can get to help us promote it so that we can keep going with this project. <br /><br />The <em>John Paul 2 High</em> series, written by Christian M. Frank, deals with the everyday challenges of Catholic teens, following the main characters as they search for truth while trying to live a good life in the real world. The everyday trials and struggles of these average teenagers are presented in a way that is accessible, without being preachy. The story itself, moreover, is a solid blend of humor, intrigue, and real-life hardship and joy.<br /><br /><em>Catholic Reluctantly</em> is available for purchase at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/">www.amazon.com</a> and <a href="http://www.sophiainstitute.com/">www.sophiainstitute.com</a>. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review telling other readers what you think! You can also find more information at the main website, <a href="http://johnpaul2high.com/">http://johnpaul2high.com/</a>, as well as their main blog at <a href="http://johnpaul2high.blogspot.com/">http://johnpaul2high.blogspot.com/</a>.<br /><div></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-68382216433626358072008-04-08T20:33:00.000-07:002008-04-13T21:50:15.034-07:00"Signposts in a Strange Land"*<p><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>People break down into two groups when they experience something lucky. Group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in Group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in the Group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences? </em></span></p><p align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>M. Night Shyamalan ~</em> Signs </span></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."</span></em></p><p align="right"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The Prince's Bride</span></em></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p><br /></span>Providence is at once our greatest reality as it is the greatest question mark that dictates the fragility of faith. There are rare moments when we catch a glimpse of the path that God has led us down, and we can see the incredible wisdom and precision with which every breath of our life has been assembled. Yet, these visions grow further apart with growing skepticism as we fall further and further into the realization of suffering, and the question of our vocation. Does God desire a child to die -- or worse -- as part of His Will? If the man (or woman) who is our perfect spouse chooses a life without us, was this because he or she was simply not the one who God intended for us to begin with, or does God's will "change" in such a way that we are redirected to God's second choice for us? If we do our best to follow God's will, how can we reconcile Providence in light of the actions of those who do not, when their choices seem to indelibly effect the course which our life takes? How do we reconcile the happiness of following our God-given vocation with the sins of those who seem to prevent our vocation from taking place? Does Providence move with the inconstancy of free will, or is it philosophically possible to believe that while we are fully free, the path that God has laid out before us is always and intimately protected? </p><p>There are two problems that we face in considering Providence. If God's will depends solely on human free will, we run the risk of becoming deists; God is there, but in the end we are on our own. At the same time, if God is in complete control, we run the risk of believing in the wrong kind of predestination. This harmony between Divine guidance and free will is a difficult concept to reconcile, yet as Catholics, this harmony is fundamental. How is this possible? How does it reconcile with vocation? And what about this problem of suffering? </p><p>In regards to our vocation, it is my belief that if we try to follow God's will as best we can, there is nothing that can affect our vocation, nor the ultimate joy that comes from finding it. Everyone desires true love, whether it is through another person, or through the religious life. This is not to say that vocation isn't painful. True love -- requited or not -- hurts tremendously because the suffering and imperfections of that other person become your own, except amplified by a million. But God does not give these transcendental desires to leave them unfulfilled, because He does not desire suffering, only allowing it when He must. Losing the "man of our dreams," therefore, or being prevented from entering a religious order, is not the tragedy that it may seem to be at the time. If God desired it, He would find a way to make it happen. And even if it is true that the "first" vocation was God's first choice, what does it matter in terms of our happiness? Original Sin was not God's first choice; yet His second choice was to dignify our humanity with the Incarnation, with a far greater dignity than we ever would've known had Eve just told the serpent to bugger off in the first place. </p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">We are not redeemed by suffering per se, but by our ability to hope in spite of suffering. We are wholly free, yet wholly protected from everything that fallen nature can inflict upon us, so long as we resign ourselves to mercy. We choose, falter, stray, and cause one another to stumble. But Providence is far greater than our choices, and the sufferings and losses that we experience either by our own hands or by the hands of others. Our one and only power is our ability to choose, but our free will would have no power without His grace. We choose our vocation, and are even free to choose between two relatively equal goods; but our ultimate vocation remains protected. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:100%;"></p></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><p><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"One Day Late" by Sam Philips</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Refrain:<br />Help is coming<br />Help is coming one day late<br />One day late<br />After you’ve given up and all is gone<br />Help is coming one day late<br />Help is coming one day<br /><br />Try to understand<br />You try to fix your broken hands<br />But remember<br />That there always has been good<br />Like stars you don’t see in the day sky<br />Wait ‘til night<br />For(refrain)<br /><br />Life has kept me down<br />I’ve been growing underground<br />Now I’m coming up<br />When time opens the earth<br />You’ll see love has been moving all around us<br />Making waves<br />So (refrain)<br /></span></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*Walker Percy</span></p>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-77928382391543291962008-04-08T15:42:00.000-07:002008-04-08T17:22:18.372-07:00In Defense of Art, Diversity, and Catholicism<p align="right"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Originally published October 11, 2006</strong></span></p><p><em>Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace."</em></p><p><em>~Oscar Wilde</em></p><p>One of the more interesting arguments against Catholicism, from an artistic perspective, is that in living by a single truth, diversity is limited. But what about the alternative?</p><p>If you believe that there is no God, no objective truth, how is infinite diversity possible? Even the abyss of the universe is finite. And the answer isn't simply to do what hasn't been done. If art is simply pushing the limits and doing what no one else has done, you're being original without being creative. Art becomes limited to the created world, by the created world.</p><p>In the converse, when art is meant to more than entertain, when it reaches towards objective truth, towards God, it is appealing to something that is infinitely more vast than the created universe. God is infinite, and He Himself is an artist. When art moves toward God, there will necessarily be elements in it that would be impossible to achieve by appealing to nature alone. Even when agnostic artists achieve some level of supernatural beauty, it is through the grace of God, not nature. With God, the possibilities, to be cliché, are endless.</p>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-59523790086050200452008-04-04T09:55:00.000-07:002008-04-04T09:56:35.670-07:00The Poetry of Truth<em><span style="font-size:85%;">Here is a reposting of an article that I wrote a while back, for your enjoyment.</span></em><br /><br />The difference between philosphy and poetry is that philosophy reveals and identifies, while poetry reveals the unidentifiable. This is why a good poet must be a philosopher, while a philosopher must not necessarily be a poet. Often, the more literalistic philosopher downplays the importance of poetry for the very reason that he cannot see the truth of poetry, because he cannot identify it. However, the purpose of all good art is to touch upon something that is far greater than human experience can acheive on this earth. Poetry acheives what philosophy aims for, which is truth. The only difference is that the truth acheived by poetry is so profound, it is inexpressible. This is a testament to the mysterious power of poetry, for the poet has the ironic talent of using words to express a truth for which there are no words.GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-67958661102396196162008-02-24T16:26:00.000-08:002008-02-24T16:30:47.839-08:00Academy Awards in Retrospect<em><span style="font-size:85%;">In honor of the Acadamy Awards, and in absense a conscious Muse, I'm going to reprint an old article on the topic. Enjoy!</span></em><br /><br />Since I've been on my own, I've been happy enough to not have the temptation of cable, and consequently of flipping to the E! channel. When I do have access to it, however, I am somehow compelled to watch as who-knows-what-aged women with implants and hair extensions talk about who's hooking up with whom and who's shopping where (both on equal par). It is almost impossible to determine their ages, not only because of the complete facelifts and measurable thickness of make-up, but because the older they get, the more they speak with the crassness and immaturity of a very badly-behaved teenager.<br /><br />Watching E! News Live, I feel like I am in highschool; they are the cool kids, the ones from the rich families, with the fancy scholarships, and with the best clothes in town . . . and we're the chess club, the ones with glasses, headgear, and matching sweatshirts. At least, that's what we're made to feel like. Our noses don't look like theirs; ours still have cartilage. That, in addition to the fact that we look, how should I put it, not like a silicon Barbie doll, puts us beneath their notice, and if we are graced with their notice, it is not for a flattering reason.<br /><br />What a job these entertainment journalists have! They probably went to a top college, and had all sorts of fascinating opportunities for journalism, newscasting, etc. And what are they doing? Telling the world about where Paris Hilton was last seen, showing clips of actors and actresses running away from the camera, which actress was seen coming out of which actor's home in the wee hours of the morning, or what Lindsey Lohan is saying about her feelings on the Iraq war (what she doesn't realize is that one of the reasons the Muslims love us so much is because of people like her). What artistry to talk about who Biffy is boffing today, to quote the Gilmore Girls (I think I'll pretend I don't know what "boffing" means . . .). What a way to spend your God-given talent!<br /><br />Is Hollywood really this idolized by the public? I know I could care less about what flavor lip gloss Jessica Simpson is wearing this Fall, but are there people who do care? If no one cares, why are these shows still on the air? It is a show about the personal lives of people I don't know, and probably never will know, and it gives us information that is incomplete and selectively politically correct when it is accurate at all. Why is Hollywood still appealing?<br /><br />In the Golden Age of cinema, the actors and actresses, though not always perfect, maintained class. Even if their personal lives were falling to shambles, they at least made the effort to put up a front that demonstrated the importance of giving the example of maintaining dignity. For this reason, in part, Hollywood became our royalty. They had their faults (artists, after all, aren't exactly known for being the most emotionally well-adjusted), but one could still respect them.<br /><br />George Clooney made an interesting statement at this past Academy Awards. He said that people say that Hollywood does not represent the rest of the country. He then referenced the Academy Awards of 1939 when the wonderful actress Hattie McDanial (in one of my personally favorite roles of all time) became the first African American to win the award for Gone With the Wind. He said that Hollywood did not represent the rest of the country then, and he was right. Her taking that award was truly a beautiful moment.<br /><br />However, George Clooney is missing something. Yes, Hollywood once stood heroically against the evils of the world. But what Mr. (albeit very handsome) Clooney does not realize is that, if Hollywood does have the power to stand up against the world, it therefore has a greater responsibility to do so. Hollywood was admirable in 1939 in many ways; but it is not so now. In 1939 it still had the capacity to stand against the evils of the world because it upheld the belief that femininity, gentlemanliness, and ultimately dignity were essential to humanity (not to mention the fact that religion and morality were still considered respectable); it was this sense of human dignity that gave them the capacity to see the injustice of segregation. But where is the dignity now, in a culture that has no bounds, where exposure rather than talent is key to success, where few children born can say that their mother and father were married when they were conceived, or that their mother and father were ever married at all, where strength and bravery consist of how close to nakedness you can get on the red carpet without "technically" exposing yourself? Does not Mr. Clooney realize that the Hollywood now bears little resemblance to the Hollywood of 1939?I guess it just comes down to the fact that we should look to the Church for moral guidance and direction, the Church which has been solidly constant and consistent for 2000 years, and not to a culture of people who spend their lives pretending they are someone who they are not.<br /><br />There is my rant for the week. Definitely a sign that I need to get out more. Ciao a tutti!GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-70244436269538786162007-09-11T19:49:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:17.682-08:00Our Lady from a Graveyard<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrRUiEFHXysx9MWQk6TJ77DRoElIS2XLk26KG2PdwT6bXi1OENwZQdFWnIiLvZjl1niCV15UjG3UCUG0vEs54iDZluS5udnRkUD9asqGdVdB4nF4_rZNiZBt9cwPMzvO5UsTIgQ/s1600-h/revised+-+Copy.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109144700343526754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrRUiEFHXysx9MWQk6TJ77DRoElIS2XLk26KG2PdwT6bXi1OENwZQdFWnIiLvZjl1niCV15UjG3UCUG0vEs54iDZluS5udnRkUD9asqGdVdB4nF4_rZNiZBt9cwPMzvO5UsTIgQ/s400/revised+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>A picture that I took from my travels, and then played with the resolution. </div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-45287938590559859242007-08-19T16:13:00.000-07:002007-08-19T18:26:52.665-07:00My break from the blogTo open with a cliche, I have been neglecting my blog. Obviously. Now, this is partially due to lack of time, largely through lack of inspiration, somewhat through my computer having inexplicable differences of opinion with blogger.com, and mostly through the realization that, while I am most inspired to write when I am stressed or under pressure, that's usually the last time I should write if I want to be seen as an even remotely reasonable person. I write fairly well when I am venting, a talent which would serve me very well if I was a liberal Bush-basher/Fox News hater/anti-organized religion/ editorial writer. However, since I find such writers rather perturbing, I have waited until the stresses in my life (normal stresses, but stresses all the same) have subsided somewhat.<br /><br />And since I don't ever want to become one of those bloggers who honestly believe that someone will care that their latest epiphany about the true meaning of the universe comes from the geometric shape they found in a defective cheerio, I will stop talking about myself, and try to scrounge up something interesting to be opinionated about.GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-84460832660277627962007-06-10T06:31:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:17.994-08:00The Subtlies of European Culture<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeOaftr6f54tzQTVhlAz4kHlVrSh6L_Qy4l8SRklS7faLZEczWMBz6mXyC8JfEVOS5KdXEwwDC8IHvYywU6YBoylZy-ZF2ZcAbKwMdVP_rZm4nNTT8Gd2P1kJUsDk9pbMsH5m8w/s1600-h/094.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074428213156591554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeOaftr6f54tzQTVhlAz4kHlVrSh6L_Qy4l8SRklS7faLZEczWMBz6mXyC8JfEVOS5KdXEwwDC8IHvYywU6YBoylZy-ZF2ZcAbKwMdVP_rZm4nNTT8Gd2P1kJUsDk9pbMsH5m8w/s400/094.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>This is a sign that was posted on the side of a tourist bus in Paris. </div><div> </div><div>Europeans aren't into being subtle, that's for sure. </div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-59784237547206959612007-06-10T04:38:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:18.178-08:00What I've been up to . . .For those of you who actually read my blog occasionally, here is my very specific reason for why I have not updated my blog for the past month.<br /><br /><div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074400716775962498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOI5AvBgofX2bfn7Mp563j2r3gZNExox9pkNHXBqDhFqerjrOsfbsjSdgVU8THNFdZnQAntGD8BeD9PUTMiUNDzmTMyqvM-A8Ji0QYrNlgdzlQjL0XaL-zGaf4ceuONIx9Vd41A/s400/048.JPG" border="0" /></div><div>This was our view from our small country house in Arezzo, where we stayed for about two weeks. It was about an hour by train from Florence, and was right in the centre of Tuscany (the Chianti region, specifically). </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074399449760610162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipL0yKIW9szOtujDsqzHytTbGnOZg4iCym7FBdMP6RS9oX_dNSNIPGv5S8k1OQYUna71v2bzZuN-xglxWaMyv-5a7RWfphfxZgKchwQiHnCVpvoA1wZJYHYNOQIBKqETLfR9W_vA/s400/007.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Bellano, Italy, is a small town along the coast of Lake Como, about an hour and a half away from Milano by train. This is the view I saw every day for almost a month.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was quite lovely.</div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-61750720375932212032007-04-18T12:26:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:18.484-08:00Remember the fallen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85XTKnGykju7dbtq0Z5OPAD0Jbfr7-OW5UTuinajnXmxkt30uky8r-KNcxvYbnQVarNIcW-FxhOhrTRIY98thOo2E09U742_AEGauWmA_bd7tljrXxJ-HwzeWmd3YXg00F7SEgg/s1600-h/n597665654_305036_6926.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054851946341359762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85XTKnGykju7dbtq0Z5OPAD0Jbfr7-OW5UTuinajnXmxkt30uky8r-KNcxvYbnQVarNIcW-FxhOhrTRIY98thOo2E09U742_AEGauWmA_bd7tljrXxJ-HwzeWmd3YXg00F7SEgg/s320/n597665654_305036_6926.jpg" border="0" /></a>Let us especially remember the family of Cho Seung-Hui, and the families of all of those who were killed.<br /><br /><br /><em>Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen.</em>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-7959030390637215712007-04-10T21:17:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:18.747-08:00"House" Redeemed?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFj433L1pJaLAgVI4BYwEFmoyh438BE2PEAbnBDrLVpoeGInsSbQzLRJt6nVKQgUBHXdvecRaov979wNUiYDcMJJ1HYegADfdj8BdUukyTPeg6L7mEjtzICluUKaVEXZWDHqX1uw/s1600-h/800x600_house_wallpaper01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052690950919348834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFj433L1pJaLAgVI4BYwEFmoyh438BE2PEAbnBDrLVpoeGInsSbQzLRJt6nVKQgUBHXdvecRaov979wNUiYDcMJJ1HYegADfdj8BdUukyTPeg6L7mEjtzICluUKaVEXZWDHqX1uw/s400/800x600_house_wallpaper01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br />I've been watching "House" off and on for the past three seasons since its Pilot, but only recently have I really started to pay attention to it. Although the writers often sashay dangerously to and over the edge of impropriety, they are most often just very candid, a quality I am personally attracted to. The unorthadox methods excercised by the title character, Dr. Gregory House, are often admirable in terms of the fact that he acts for the benefit of the patient, despite convention or legality, and also make for some fascinating and unexpected storylines.<br /><br />One of the more interesting facets of the show, however, is the internal conflict raging within House himself. Ten years earlier, a procedure had been done against his will in which muscles from his thigh had been removed to put a stop to a life-threatening infection, a procedure which has left him crippled, bitter, and in constant pain. This pain, along with an already depressed, self-centered, and neurotic personality, has caused him to become addicted to the narcotic Vicadin. He is a self-proclaimed rationalist, although it is unclear whether or not he is simply harboring a hatred for whatever higher order has left him broken and a cripple. He is a pessimist, insisting that "everybody lies; the only variable is as to what." His experience with pain, both of himself and his patients, in conjunction with a vast knowledge of science, causes him to reject any higher order, with the basic philosophy that we must treat life the best we can, because the future is ultimately without dignity or hope.<br /><br />Consequently, the undertone of existentialism of the show, and the fundemental atheism of the main character, makes the overall treatment of objective truth, religion, and morality well-intentioned at best, but almost always somewhat strained. I was still questioning whether or not the rationalism was something I could look past in good conscience until I read the transcript (I never actually watched it) for the episode "One Day, One Room," where House convinces a young Christian woman to have an abortion after a rape. She argues that abortion is murder, and that she finds comfort in believing that there will one day be retribution (her character obviously written by someone who's knowledge of Christianity begins and ends with Dan Brown). House answers her by saying that God either doesn't exist, or that He is unimaginably cruel; if He does exist and is good, he wouldn't expect her to keep her "rape baby." My heart sank. Such a brillient, educated, well-written show had lost its integrity by falling into the anti-religious and liberal propaganda cliche that drives almost all art in Hollywood these days.<br /><br />Nonetheless, I was intrigued by the premise of a following episode (which aired last Tuesday), in which Dr. House tries to convince a patient to end her crisis pregnancy. Since in almost every show the conflict is resolved when everyone finally agrees with House, which would imply that the mother would eventually give in and act according House's professional opinion, the end seemed tragically predictable. I wasn't optimistic. But my curiosity got the better of me, so I watched it, expecting it to be the last time I ever sat down to this show (if you want to be suprised by the ending, don't read what follows).<br /><br />The episode is aptly named "Fetal Position." A 39 year old woman falls ill because of a rare disorder where the mother's body mirrors the distress of her baby. Her baby had an oversized bladder and undersized lungs, and was dying; as a result of the mother's disorder, the baby's illness was causing the mother to die as well. The dilemma: remove the baby at 21 weeks before the child is viable, thereby killing the baby, or both the mother and baby would die. The writers cleverly chose one of the most difficult moral scenarios for pregnancy, almost on par with a fallopean pregnancy, to complicate the situation.<br /><br />Throughout the entire episode, Dr. House insists that the baby is a thing, a parasite, and not yet a person. He recommends a D & C <em>(shutter!),</em> but the mother won't hear of it, despite his insistence. Luckily for the mother and baby, Dr. Cuddy, House's boss, is an older woman also desperately trying to get pregnant, and therefore does everything she can to save the baby. Her emotions seem to be getting the better of her judgement, and she is portrayed as irrational. Nonetheless, after a series of extremely dangerous tests and procedures, Cuddy finds a sollution that may possibly save the baby. House recommends fetal surgery, while still blatently mocking Cuddy for calling it a baby.<br /><br />So they perform the surgery, as follows:<br /><br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jzZLkNidWZ8"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jzZLkNidWZ8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />To recap in case YouTube pulls the video for copywrite infringement, in the middle of the surgery, the baby reaches up and grabs House's finger, and he is visibly taken aback. The surgery continues, and the child lives. Believably, House hides any change in his attitude from his collegues, and the extent of the change is questionable. Also believably, in his last conversation with the mother, he calls it a baby for the first time in the episode. The show ends with him back at his appartment, staring questioningly at his fingers.<br /><br />Can this episode, where the humanity of an unborn fetus is visibly shown to the point to where a pro-choice doctor questions his own view on the subject, justify a previous episode where that same doctor convinced a woman to have an abortion? I don't know. Is the network simply trying to cover its own rear-end by offending both sides instead of taking one stand? More than likely someone in the FOX's publicity department has that in mind. But the main character has been permenantly changed -- although we don't yet know the extent of that change. In any event, this change is significant.<br /><br />The important question is, could House again convince a woman that abortion is the best way out now that the question of the unborn child's humanity has been raised in his mind? From the perspective of character development, the answer to this question is fundemental to whether or not the writers of the show are using a previously pro-choice character as a catylist for an ultimately pro-life objective. If nothing else, it is raising the right questions. Everything hinges on where they take it from this point on.<br /><br />I'm hopeful, but I'm not going to hold my breath. The overall ethical nature of the show is too far from perfect for me to trust that it will take such a violent turn towards conservatism. Be that as it may, the choice to show an unborn hand was a bold one, so I'll remain cautiously optimistic for the time being.<br /><br /><em>Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us!</em> </div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiLjtHgZrvRSm16MKpvVUBEkVAt9i04qygLMA4NGn-7TQf-HobN9RCkx-bhG3zqRKaIbwmTX-XYQaUyiBGdbX8Vq5_0PXomEbnhi9hRrNnqiEUT28MnARyybc3QVAe3hr2pnYgg/s1600-h/House_3x17_-_fetal_position_-_screen-cap.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054857027287670962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiLjtHgZrvRSm16MKpvVUBEkVAt9i04qygLMA4NGn-7TQf-HobN9RCkx-bhG3zqRKaIbwmTX-XYQaUyiBGdbX8Vq5_0PXomEbnhi9hRrNnqiEUT28MnARyybc3QVAe3hr2pnYgg/s200/House_3x17_-_fetal_position_-_screen-cap.jpg" border="0" /></a>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-76867044609253741282007-04-08T16:57:00.000-07:002007-04-08T17:00:57.612-07:00"Mary Poppins"A kindly nanny with magical powers -- clearly not as innocent a concept as we all thought. Hide your children.<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2T5_0AGdFic"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2T5_0AGdFic" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-11615343331723942632007-04-06T14:43:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:19.058-08:00"O, Sacred Head Surrounded"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7uo6l2s12iP5dvOBmk41qM9m8_SqPvspXtrGVBVI9aWgUcF52I91ti_Wi0ak0LUjfGmKdNRMP4P6iLuE0t6MkwcyWPJ60UVJwfENmJ6pwMv6wAxbpzht0A1pUsFbMY9VPpnICQ/s1600-h/nagypentek6.jpg"><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050434323547404066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7uo6l2s12iP5dvOBmk41qM9m8_SqPvspXtrGVBVI9aWgUcF52I91ti_Wi0ak0LUjfGmKdNRMP4P6iLuE0t6MkwcyWPJ60UVJwfENmJ6pwMv6wAxbpzht0A1pUsFbMY9VPpnICQ/s400/nagypentek6.jpg" border="0" /></em></a><em> O sacred head, surrounded</em> <div><em>by crown of piercing thorn!</em></div><div><em>O bleeding head, so wounded,</em></div><div><em>reviled and put to scorn!</em></div><div><em>Our sins have marred the glory</em></div><div><em>of thy most holy face,</em></div><div><em>yet angel hosts adore thee</em></div><div><em>and tremble as they gaze </em></div><div><em></em></div><div><em>I see thy strength and vigor</em></div><div><em>all fading in the strife,</em></div><div><em>and death with cruel rigor,</em></div><div><em>bereaving thee of life;</em></div><div><em>O agony and dying!</em></div><div><em>O love to sinners free!</em></div><div><em>Jesus, all grace supplying,</em></div><div><em>O turn thy face on me.</em> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-74126069871075329262007-03-20T18:19:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:19.073-08:00"This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f-vKxd1Qw0OdKOrtkV2jDf_hY3EsJlR8t8GvPy-hTB_5PAtrmwJT33hLIDWk2zjEiBru8Lb4w5eaMjtM1XU1sjVJlKvDsVSell77V0_IQ1x-U-STIKneKok94ZEAe2ycEQ97Fw/s1600-h/casabuncathumb.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044182564133750146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f-vKxd1Qw0OdKOrtkV2jDf_hY3EsJlR8t8GvPy-hTB_5PAtrmwJT33hLIDWk2zjEiBru8Lb4w5eaMjtM1XU1sjVJlKvDsVSell77V0_IQ1x-U-STIKneKok94ZEAe2ycEQ97Fw/s400/casabuncathumb.gif" border="0" /></a><br />When all is said and done, nothing can solve the world's problems better than <a href="http://www.angryalien.com/0506/casabunca.asp">movies reenacted in thirty seconds by bunnies.</a>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-44529287834737339102007-03-20T17:35:00.000-07:002008-11-13T03:28:19.182-08:00The Order of Music<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2aWwt03FVpKgrZjEfgmr2pj_4u3Sh-6kA5q7Zo3WsChVS5QiDUzdX9_c62hf0imL11pnL0LsWz2J5oAtniJexfn4sA3y9xqUUblACfLlod_8KvlNgIlSB5pvFKPjw-g8DrQpXQ/s1600-h/Picture+048+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038541253695400482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2aWwt03FVpKgrZjEfgmr2pj_4u3Sh-6kA5q7Zo3WsChVS5QiDUzdX9_c62hf0imL11pnL0LsWz2J5oAtniJexfn4sA3y9xqUUblACfLlod_8KvlNgIlSB5pvFKPjw-g8DrQpXQ/s400/Picture+048+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I've learned a long time ago, and have been reminded recently:), that being rashly opinionated most often turns badly for me. However, since, as Saint Therese says, few things are more beneficial to the soul than public humiliation, I'll take another go at it. It is Lent after all.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have never been able to understand how beat, rhythm, and melody could be objectively disordered. Yet when children become addicted to drugs, sex, alcohol, and satan worship, one of the primary culprits is disordered music. But what makes music so disordered? How can pure objective sound and beat in the physical world -- not taking into account lyrics -- affect the spiritual soul in such a violently negative way? To me, this attribution seems rather, in some cases at least, as if something external is being blamed to avoid admitting to the true internal cause, which is harder to face. Children who engage in addictive behavior are unhappy and without hope, and are usually dealing with some sort of repression, not the aftermath of listening to a beat; the loud music is more often than not a means to drown an already existing pain. </div><div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>According to the argument, what makes music, specifically rock music, objectively disordered is a constant, rhythmic beat which is said to naturally invoke our animalistic tendencies in a way that classical music does not. It numbs our senses (allegedly), makes the ratio of the intellect lessen towards our appetites -- not unlike alcohol. However (not to compare apples and oranges), if alcohol in moderation is seen as a good thing, why not rock music, if the effects on the soul are the same? There is clearly nothing wrong with the <em>effect</em> if alcohol is deemed acceptable; what then makes the alternative cause of the effect so much more harmful? Especially considering that the effect of rock music in moderation is temporary, whereas each drop of alcohol permenantly damages brain cells. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br />Another objection is that the disorder of the musician intrinsically affects the music itself; because music touches our soul in a way that other things do not, we therefore absorb this disorder into ourselves. I personlly have a difficult time buying this, being as Mozart was a drug-addicted alcoholic Free Mason who died in his 30s because he had run his own body and soul into the ground.<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div>Admitedly, it is imprudent to say that music is always good, and rock music itself can objectively be a problem for a variety of reasons. Played loudly, it causes hearing loss (obviously). Moreover, often, teenagers who are troubled will gravitate towards rock music, partly due to the undertone of rebellion (which is caused by the desire to regain lost control or stability), and partly because the constant noise can help them not think of the pain they are in; however, this latter point is not, in my experience at least, limited to rock music.<br /><br />When it comes to hip-hop, rap, and techno, moreover, much of it is written in the context of getting it on like rabbits. It's my belief that if any music is causing problems today, it's these. However, even in these cases, it is the individual artists -- not the artform -- who are perverting the art to make it purely animalistic. The artform itself is not the problem. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br />The primary contest against music with a heavy beat -- in Christian circles, at least -- is that the beat itself objectively opens the individual up to opression (which, as I understand it, is like possession, except it is unintentional -- it is the kind of "possesion" that some of the saints experienced; an example of this is depicted, albeit with questionable accuracy, in the movie <em>The Exorcism of Emily Rose</em>). If you were to listen to a rock song that was written and performed by satanists, this could possibly happen. But opression can only take place when an individual is taking part in some form of spiritualism, or has unintentionally (therefore without any adverse affect to the soul) come in contact with a person place or thing that has been involved in something spiritualistic or satanic. It cannot be caused by a purely physical phenomena; we live in a post-Incarnation world, and the devil simply does not have that kind of power unless God has a good reason to permit it. The only way the rock beat could objectively make us more spiritully vulnerable is if we were to listen to it constantly with the purpose of silencing our prayer life, and even then other factors would have to be present as well.<br /><br />And these other factors are crucial, and can do plenty of damage without the presence of rock music. The reason rebellious teenagers began to gravitate towards rock music is not because there is something intrinsically inherent in the beat that attracts the sinful, but because they were rebelling directly against the Christian fundementalists of the south (who, coincidentally, were racists -- not that I'm saying that people who believe rock music is disordered are racists, because that would be silly). These fundementalists considered music with a heavy beat -- a beat which had been carried over by their African slaves -- the music of the devil.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This unfounded scrupelosity attracted rebellion, as almost all Puritanical scrupelosity does. The reason, for instance, Salem is full of witchcraft is because extreme scrupelosity eventually breeds rebelious behavior because it is fundementally based on pride and a desire to take control. It therefore implies a lack of trust in God. This leads to a loss of hope, which is diametrically opposed to Divine Mercy, which is the height of virtue that opens us up to the Grace of God. On the other hand, loss of hope, or despair, is the height of vice, and extreme loss of hope opens the soul up like nothing else in this world can. Like I said in the beginning, loss of hope is more difficult to face up to than the influence of something outside of ourselves -- such as rock music -- because hopelessness and pride are more linked than any two sins.<br /><br />For this reason, I believe that it is more dangerous to teach that music -- or anything for that matter -- has the power to bypass our free will and corrupt our souls than it is to listen to rock music in moderation, especially when those who make this claim admit that the issue is not black and white. Making such a generalization about boundaries which are so subjective can lead to an unhealthy fear of evil in the physical world, for when scrupelosity is extreme it has the nasty habit of spreading to all of our senses to the point to where we fear that even God cannot protect us. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:78%;">Special thanks to my brother, my sister-in-law, my little niece, and my friend Dominic who did stellar job tweaking the photo.</span></div></div>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-52949242108743114902007-03-16T21:46:00.000-07:002007-03-20T11:41:38.929-07:00What in Middle Earth?I'm not sure what I should think about this.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2ngg7wcbwEU" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed><br /><br />And yes, they sing. It <em>is</em> a musical.<em></em>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31548188.post-36844094336273945252007-03-16T18:33:00.000-07:002007-03-18T14:44:18.044-07:00The Art of Socialism? Hardly!!!!There was once a time where I had an inkling of economics, and the overall benefits of the free market system. Now, as I start to engage in in-depth discussions on the matter, I can feel the blank look on my face, and the confussion setting in. I mourn the days when I almost minored in political science, and find myself purusing books on economics, however out of place they seem amidst my collection of O'Conner, Williams, Shakespeare, and Warton. Admitedly, one of the main challenges I faced in college -- as I found particularly when I attempted to take Metaphysical poetry along side classical economics -- was that I was required to use two sides of my brain, and my economic brain was sadly under-exercised in comparison to my literature brain, especially since my literature teachers and classmates either were distributist economists (if there is such a thing) or they neither knew nor gave a hoot about economics in any shape or form.<br /><br />So I leave college, theoretically prepared for the world. I pursue literature and music; and what do I find? Socialists! Everywhere, socialists! Why is it that all artists today are socialists? They claim that it is because they refuse to compromise their art by putting price on it in the name of capitalism; maybe I could take them more seriously if, in not "selling out," most of what they produced wasn't sheer egotistical badness on wheels.<br /><br />On rereading this, I realized that I should clarify that I don't think that all artists must market if they are not, at that time, equipped to distribute their art for one reason or another, or if they simply don't have the desire to share their art. I'm also not saying that all artists who avoid marketing are doing so out of insecurity (if they are good artists). What I am saying is that artists should not fear that marketing their work will inevetibly lead to comprimising the work of art itself, or "selling out."<br /><br />Even in Catholic circles, good artists are never discovered because of their belief that marketing and true art are not compatible. They argue that marketing means "selling-out" -- period; putting a price on a work of art is like putting a price on a child. And I understand how this feels. There are few things worse than, after showing your work of art to someone, having it of art ripped to shreds, or modified, or tweaked so that it might be more "sell-able." And, admitedly, editors and producers have been known, on occasion, to suck the marrow out of a brillient work of art for the sake of profit. However, in my experience with having my artistic babies slashed to pieces, oftentimes they were slashed to pieces because, to be frank, they were ugly babies (sorry for the unpleasent imagery, but that's the best way to describe it). I have learned a great deal about <em>how to produce good art</em> from having my work edited and my favorite pieces cut out and thrown to the dogs (whether or not I always agree with those particular decisions . . .). If it wasn't for the editors, F. Scott Fitzgerald would be illegible to the point to where his brilliance would never see the light of day (and true art is meant to be shared).<br /><br />Except in the case of real artists, the fear of marketing one's work in the capitalist world is, I think in some cases at least, more a fear of being objectively criticized than it is a fear of selling out. There are some fantastic independant artists, and I applaud them for being able to make a living with art the hard way; but for every talented artist, there are about a 1,000 more artists who really need to reevaluate how they spend their time. It makes sense, sadly, since we live in an age where people lack the ability to accept criticism because they are conditioned into the a delussional understanding of their own self worth.<br /><br />This spring, I am returning to Italy, in part to see if music school is for me. I will have a book on economics in tow, and hopefully I will be able to avoid being sucked in to the vortex that is socialism.<br /><br /><em>St. Thomas More, prega per noi!</em>GreenGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15291529297213919108noreply@blogger.com7