Dirty Catholic

Tinkling Rite

Last weekend there were 7 baptisms at Mass. And it was the new priest's first time baptizing. 

At the parish parents can opt for a full immersion baptism with the baby lowered, bottom first, into the water, or the more typical forehead splashing. The priest can tell who wants what because the full immersion babies are naked. Bare-bottomed, chubby bellied, gloriously naked. Parents who choose full immersion usually have 2 questions. First, "Is the water cold?" and second, "What if our son...you know...???"

The Pastor always says, "Yes, the water is warm!" and "In all my years, I have never seen any accidents. No Peepee Teepees are needed." Clearly the pastor is unfamiliar with Murphy's Law.

So for the first Baptism, the naked baby was lifted up in the air and then plunged down into the water. Alleluia! Then, deliciously fat towheaded naked baby #2 was lifted up in the air and.... an arc of tinkle sprayed up, up, up in the air and down, down, down...into the baptismal font. Alleluia! 

And what do you do? Stop the baptisms? Clean out the font? Repeat, again, the longest water blessing on earth?  Eh. Urine is sterile, right? Proceed!

Baptisms #3-7 were of the more typical splashing-on-the-forehead style, a decision which I am sure the parents deeply regretted at that moment. (Pee on the bottom? Fine. But pee on the forehead?) Nonetheless, the parents were all troopers and did not object to the Holy(pee)Water. The only objection, in fact, came from a 5-year-old boy who sat near the font yelling, "Eeewww!" every time another child was baptized. Alleluia!

While the children were being changed into their new white clothes, and probably having their heads wiped down with anti-bacterial gel, the new priest dutifully marched around the church and sprinkled the tinkle on us all. Alleluia!

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Part of the unknown joy of weddings is listening for little gems from the often...creative...presiders.

Last summer it was "the smell of burning flesh" that caught my attention. This year, it was the sheer theatrics. During the middle of the homily the presider- who just before the wedding rehearsal performed a solo aria for the enjoyment of the choir- introduced a pertinent piece of scripture for our consideration, the works of Andrew Lloyd Webber. While pressing the pause button of my brain I thought, "If he starts singing 'Love Changes Everything,' I will walk out."

Luckily, he only spoke it line by line. So I got to stay.

Catechesis of the Wine

Ah...it's springtime and the smell of first communion is in the air, don't you think?  Unfortunately, that smell is closer to the sweaty armpits of anxious parents than it is to the sweet smell of our Lord.

Just around this time each year I get inundated with requests for seating, questions about clothing, concerns about pictures, and requests for present ideas. Any requests for information about the Body and Blood of Our Lord and Savior? Not a one.

Well, except for this one, disguised as a parental concern: "Should they drink the wine? Isn't that Illegal?"

Oye Vey.

Let's dispatch with the legality question first, and then address the heart of the issue, shall we?

With regard to drinking "the wine," because it happens in the context of a religious practice and because the parents are (presumably) present and consenting, it is, in fact, perfectly legal for your 7 year old to have a sip.

But the real issue here is "the wine." Most parents don't have a problem with the legality issue so much as with the connotations they associate with alcohol, and especially young people drinking alcohol.

In the past I've tried talking about the substance and accidents of transubstantiation ("What's 'curly red,' without the hair?"). I've tried the sign and symbol language ("A symbol makes a reality present, just like your living body makes you present."). Neither go over very well.

But this reflection seems to help. Try it!

First ask yourself two questions:

What are the meanings or images that you associate with bread? (Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Wonder bread, and a nice baguette, perhaps.)

What do you think of when you think of Jesus? (God, Loves us, died for us, etc.)

So here's the explanation: When you receive the Body of Christ, what are you thinking? Wonder bread or Jesus?  For most of us, it's "Jesus." When we say that the bread and wine truly become the body and blood of Jesus, part of what that means is that the Eucharist transforms the images and meanings of this everyday thing, bread, into the meanings and images that we associate with Jesus. "Wonder bread" out, "Jesus who died for us" in!  This same principle applies to the wine, but because so many of us did not receive the Blood of Jesus as children, we never made the connection. So let's try it again:

What do you think of when you think of alcohol? (You might have a whole range of thoughts here, from alcoholism to a nice glass of Pinto Noir.)

What do you think of when you think of Jesus? (Loving savior, light of the world, etc)

Let's repeat: the Eucharist is a transformation "the wine" and all the meanings we associate with "alcohol" to the Blood of Christ, and all the meanings we associate with Jesus. It may not transform the chemical component, but it transforms how we think about what we're drinking.

That being said, both species (the Body and the Blood) are considered complete in and of themselves. You don't have to have both of them to have communion. God is just a generous guy and goes all out. But either one works. (This is good news for recovering alcoholics or those with Celiac disease, but bad news for recovering alcoholics with Celiac disease.)

But! If you don't receive the Blood, don't just walk on by like Jesus isn't there! Would you just walk past the Body? No! If Jesus was standing there, waving, would you hurry past, head down, and pretend you didn't see him? Never!  So, just as you bow or genuflect to the Body of Christ, if you do not receive the Blood of Christ, at least say hello by taking a moment to bow before you pass. Finally, if you are still struggling with this "the wine is Jesus" business, I encourage you, all the more, to bow. The physical practice of honoring the Blood might eventually move your heart and mind into belief. That's a little church trick we like to call ''Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi."

In other news, Carolina Cannonball over at The Crescat has nominated me for "Best Heretical Blog," which I will choose to take as a compliment as she is both a regular reader and a Republican. That must be painful. Anyhoo, voting begins on April 1st, and sending a bunch of San Francisco Hippie Catholics her way might be fun. Just keep repeating to yourself, "The Church is big enough for both of us," and go vote. :)

Sharing Ain't for Sissies...

Forgive me Internet, but it's been a long-ass time since my last confession.

Lately, I've been preparing parents and their kids for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, so my mind has been wandering in this direction.

An article in The Wall Street Journal (of all places) about Confession making a comeback pointed to a Protestant website where you can confess and read other's confessions.

Perusing IveScrewedUp.com, all I can think is how much these people would benefit from having a REAL LIVE PERSON hear their confession, someone to offer them hope and counsel, and in some cases, tell them that they are not actually sinning.

A friend of mine described the Sacrament of Reconciliation to me as a way for the church hierarchy to control you. I have to disagree. I choose to think positively of the hierarchy and its priests, even if they do act oddly as a group from time to time. Reconciliation isn't about being judged or reprimanded or controlled. It is a chance to hear the voice of our loving God say, "I forgive you!" It is a chance to find a spiritual friend to walk with in the challenge of living as an authentic Christian. It provides a sounding board, another set of ears, to hear where God is calling you and where evil might be interfering in your life.

But! For it to really work, like everything else in the Church, you have to work. You have to find a priest that you like, trust, and who is a good confessor. You also have to go somewhat regularly, so that the priest deluged with 2000 parishioners at your parish actually remembers your name, your struggles and your hopes. Finally, I suggest going on Saturdays or by appointment because most priests have neither the time nor disposition to really dig into an issue with you when you are the 6th in the standard 30-person-line of Lenten Reconciliation services.

In a very real way, Reconciliation is one of the best mental health services offered by the church, creating space for the members of our stressed-out, over-worked, unreflective culture to pause, breath, and reflect. It is a chance to say "No!" to destructive patterns and "Yes!" to our loving God. Reconciliation helps us to refocus our gaze on Christ, who forgives, challenges, and always, always loves. 

Little Miss Grace

In the Last Sunday in September, I became a Godparent to a beautiful little girl. I know this sounds boastful, but as far as God-parenting goes, a job as a DRE and a Masters of Divinity can put you a long way out there on the "Kick-Ass Godparent" front. But I have to say that I stand humbled. The other two individuals with whom I am sharing the God-parenting task are such rock stars that I will readily admit that I am the slacker of the bunch. This little girl is going to be particularly blessed. But more than that, she'll be quite a blessing to us.

When I explain the idea of Grace during catechetical sessions, one of my favorite images is that of God reaching out eagerly toward us. At the baptism, Madeleine embodied this same desire. She stretched out her tiny hands toward the water, the oils, the candle. She seemed to be reaching for God as eagerly as God reaches out for her.

My greatest hope for Madeleine is that she holds firm in her grasp on God and her Christian community. Despite rules that say she can't preside, people who will inevitably disappoint her, and a Christian community just as flawed as any other, I pray she reaches past all that, through all that, to the God who faithfully reaches out to her.

So You Chose Crappy Godparents...

Hi, you there? You who found this site because you typed "revoke godparents" into Google?

Welcome. Y'all should form a club or something, because there are a lot of you.

So, did your kid's Godparents embezzle your money? Did they become atheists? Did they move to France?

Let me make this painless as possible.  It will be quick, like ripping a band-aid off a hirsute woman:

"How can I change or remove people as Godparents?" 

You can't.

The Church won't change the certificate or the record books. Sorry.

If it makes you feel any better, the role of a Godparent is to offer spiritual guidance and conversation to your child as he or she grows. They also serve as witnesses for the church records. Nothing more. Godparents don't get your kids when you die, nor are they on the hook for paying for the graduation party.

The Godparents you chose sound like lousy bastards who were ill-equipped for the job to begin with. So good riddance! Be done with them! I suggest you find more stable, church-going friends who your kid likes, and invite them to be "Spiritual Advisors"  or "Pre-Confirmation Sponsors" for your child. Hell, call them "Godparents" if you want. Who cares?

Perhaps you could screen the unofficial replacements with questions like these:

"Do you ever plan to embezzle money from us, or have sex with my spouse?"

"Do you plan to leave the one true church for the fiery abyss anytime in the next 20 years?"

"Any plans to move to the Netherlands?"

That sort of thing. If they answer "No," to all the questions, then I think you're safe.

Then, as a last measure, give them this book:

It is an excellent resource and gives Godparents (and "Godparents") great ideas for initiating spiritual conversations and giving frugal baptismal-themed gifts.

You will FINALLY have people in your children's lives who will actually talk about God! Who cares if their name is on the certificate?

And the ex-patriot atheist embezzlers will never know.  Unless you write them a letter telling them what crappy people they are...

But that wouldn't be very Christian of you, now would it?