Stuff Catholics Like

Ten minutes ago I finished playing a dirge-of-an-entrance-hymn perfectly suited for Lent: Forty Days and Forty Nights. I played the organ extra slow just to make sure no one would enjoy it. Looking at their faces I’m thinking I succeeded. But as I start to listen to the prayers at Mass and hear the readings I become concerned. By the time Father starts his Pollyanna homily about “joy” I know there’s a problem. It happened to me last year and now it’s happened again. Today is Laetare Sunday. That Sunday of joy sandwiched into the middle of forty days of penance.

Maybe it sneaks up on me every year because this Sunday is known by a variety of names. The Latin word Laetare refers to the opening phrase used in the Introit, Laetare Jerusalem, which means “O be joyful, Jerusalem.” The purpose of this Sunday is to give hope to all those crazed chocolate lovers who haven’t had a Hershey’s bar in three weeks. We’re halfway through the season, there’s still hope! In traditional parishes, this would be the week where organ playing is allowed and flowers can adorn the altar. In some parishes though it probably just means a chorus of snickering as everyone notices that the pastor is wearing pink.

The reason for these special vestments (rose, not pink) is partly to set the joyful Sunday apart from the rest of Lent. It’s similar to Gaudate Sunday in Advent when you light the pink (yes, pink, not rose) candle. The other part explaining the rose vestments stretches back nearly a thousand years to Falcone of the Court of Angers. We [Google] don’t know what he did but Pope Urban II saw fit to honor him with a rose as a sign of Falcone’s apparent friendship to and support of the Chair of St. Peter. For hundreds of years, friends of Rome would receive recognition of their fealty in the sign of a rose. This tradition was ceremonialized during the Avignon papacy as it became common for the pope to bless an artisan-made golden rose on Laetare Sunday and award it to a worthy beneficiary in Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, one of the Seven Churches of Rome. The tradition of the Golden Rose exists today, but it has not been awarded to a person since Pius XII honored Charlotte, Grand Duchess of Luxembourg with it in 1956. Today it is only given to great shrines. The Shrine of Our Lady of Knock has one and so does the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.

Laetare Sunday also is sometimes referred to as the Sunday of the Five Loaves. In the Pre Vatican II 1962 Missal, the passage about the miracle of sharing was read, only back then it was still the miracle of multiplication. Now it’s irrelevant because in our three-cycle liturgical system we no longer read about the Five Loaves on Laetare Sunday. 2010 being Cycle C we hear the story of the prodigal son (or the prodigal father, as I once heard it explained). Cycle B calls for the reading of the WWF verse, John 3:16. Next year, as the cycles reset we’ll hear a sermon on the curing of the blind man from John 9.

In Europe Laetare Sunday is similar to Mother’s Day and so it is known as Mothering Sunday. The Epistle from Galatians calls Jerusalem the mother of us all and this Sunday all mothers, the Blessed Virgin Mary and especially “mother church” are honored. People frequently try to attend Mass at the nearest cathedral, their mother church. It is also the only Sunday in some European parishes when people can get married during Lent.

Lastly, this mid-Lenten Sunday has been known as Refreshment Sunday. For people who have been maintaining the strict fast, this is a day when you can ease up slightly, but there are no donuts downstairs today so it isn’t going to happen right after Mass. I’m fairly certain that this term is no longer used anymore because encouraging you to ease up on your Xbox fast is not a prime directive within the Church. They’re fairly certain you’ll find a way to survive. But the word is still out on whether or not my congregation will survive this unexpected Sunday of joy wrapped in a mantle of suffering. I still have three more songs to play.

Christmas Cards, official items printed with a Christmas message and sent to wish others a “A Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to You.”, were first printed in England in 1843 making them as old as the opera Don Pasquale, the United Free Church of Scotland, the British colony of Natal, a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens and your grandmother’s fruit cake.

Sir Henry Cole commissioned John Callcott Horsley to create the first Christmas card. Sir Cole must have had a lot of friends and a lot of free time since he had 1000 printed. Unfortunately, he didn’t give thought to the sensibilities of the times setting off what could be one of the earliest politically correct protests when temperance groups objected to the image on the card depicting a child drinking wine with his family. In our family we believe that children shouldn’t have liquor until they are at least three so the temperance protest is understandable. It should also be noted that the first card didn’t actually include an image of anything religious proving that the English are a bunch godless heathens only interested in selling tea and the worst food on the planet.

Actually, if you look carefully at the card you will see some unhappy figures on the edges. Sir Cole was very concerned about the poor in England and wanted to remind his friends to do something charitable during the Christmas season so he had these cards sent instead of handwriting individual letters. (This is true). (So was most everything else I said so far).

Americans, always quick to copy the British in everything except military tactics, started mailing cards in 1845/6 but had to import them from Europe for thirty years until a someone figured out that yes, Christmas cards can be printed outside of the British Isles. Louis Prang, a German immigrant, started selling multi-colored Christmas cards in Europe in 1865 and started selling them in the United States in 1875. Within six years he was producing over five-million cards a year. That’s equivalent to 10% of the US population at the time.

The first home-photograph card was introduced by Kodak in 1902 which has made it possible for everyone to see how great your family and dog look in matching sweaters.

The first White House Christmas card was sent in 1953 when Dwight Eisenhower was president. Just another reason why everyone liked Ike. The cards were sent to 2000 of his most personal friends. White House Christmas cards now get sent to about 1.6 million people which kind of takes away the thrill of getting one.

If you send Christmas cards, you aren’t alone. The average US household receives an estimated 20 cards a year, down from 27 in the 80’s and 1.9 billion, yes that’s with a “b”, Christmas cards are sent in the US each year.

We recommend visiting the Christmas card gallery to see some examples of antique cards.

This history was culled from Wikipedia, Christmas in St. Charles, Emotion Greeting Cards and our seven-week-old daughter, Maria, who thinks Christmas cards taste great.

If you want to help the US get to 2 billion cards sent each year, we recommend browsing our Christmas card section with a giving heart.

There are those Catholics who check in for services on Christmas and Easter twice a year and pretend they’re visiting from out of town. Then there are those Catholics who choose to go the extra mile and attend Mass on Ash Wednesday, thus increasing their holiness by nearly 50%. It is a not-so-subtle way of proving you’ve been to Mass and works better than showing off a Sunday bulletin.

The use of ash is a “delible” sign of our mortality and the dust that we shall return to. The tradition that man is dust stretches way back to Adam, who, like Flint Marko, was actually was made out of dust, and to Abraham who interceded for Sodom and prayed, “Behold, I have taken upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes.” Of course the joyful prophets and other fun Old Testament characters like Job and Mordecai used ashes and sackcloth in their daily devotions. While Jeremiah and Ezekiel were wallowing in ash, the even more penitential King David says in Psalm 102 that he ate ash like it was bread. No doubt he was using a Hamilton Beach toaster.

The solemn use of ash was also popular in the early church and was used to mark those who had been temporarily excommunicated for committing serious sins. By the 7^th century the practice had become associated with the first day of Lent. Sinners would confess their sins privately to a bishop and then be enrolled in the ranks of the penitents for public absolution. Wearing ash and sackcloth, these people would be expelled from the community like Adam and Eve from the garden, and their penance and abstinence would last the forty days of lent.

Modern Catholics believe that cleanliness is next to godliness and that dressing well honors our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit. Needless to say, wearing potato sacks and dumping ash on our heads at the doors of our parish for forty days is seldom seen these days. What we have retained is the practice of marking our foreheads with ash made from the burned palms of the previous Passion Sunday. Some delicate people prefer to receive the ash from a woman with small fingers while the more zealous beeline for the man with the giant thumb. At one local parish the priest beams when he gives ash to bald men. To him it means a bigger forehead and he uses the whole canvas.

In Mexico City the Faithful are so enthusiastic (and numerous) that the inventive Franciscans had to develop a new way of distributing ashes to shorten the service. They mix the ash with a measure of holy oil to make it more paste-like and less dusty. Then they have 6-8 people stand side-by-side while they stamp their foreheads with a special tool. This stamp is not available from any church goods supplier and it is rumored that each Friar must build his own as a rite of passage, like a Jedi builds his lightsaber. An experienced priest can stamp up to 10 heads while saying the words from Genesis, “Recuerda, hombre, que eres ceniza y en ceniza te convertirás”.

The New Testament tells us to not to look dismal when we fast and to wash our faces so that our sacrifices are known by God and not by men. If it is hard to reconcile ash and sackcloth with Matthew 16 then perhaps it is time go shopping. You could always try Sak’s Fifth Ave where they specialize in the latest in Catholic penitential fashion, like this classy sack cloth halter top.

Guest post by James Rutherford, General Manager for Aquinas and More Catholic Goods.

Catholics really like sacred scripture. In fact we just plain love the Bible and the Church fully asserts that it is written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, that they have God as their author. Now some will drop their jaws at this and say “whaaaaat!” Don’t you Catholics believe plenty of things that contradict scripture? That you just plain made things up and in fact you even added books to the Bible” and “Didn’t Catholics chain up bibles and burn them and isn’t it a fact Catholics are not encouraged to read scripture?” Well there are lots of urban legends in regards to Catholics and the Bible. The fact is the Church often quotes the great biblical scholar St. Jerome who said “Ignorance of scripture is ignorance of Christ.”

For example nobody claims that banks want to prevent people from using pens since they often put chains on them to prevent people from taking them. They chain pens up so that people can use them. In the ages before the printing press when Bibles were hand written often by Catholic monks they were quite valuable so it is no surprise that steps were taken to keep people from taking a copy that might have taken a year or more to produce. In fact it was those same Catholic monks who made copies of Bibles over the years and created those beautifully illuminated manuscripts that we even have complete copies of the Bible to this day.
While it might be currently true that Protestant churches have much more emphasis on scripture study than the average Catholic parish has; Catholics certainly are encouraged to read scripture.  In fact the Church offers an indulgences (a topic for another day) to encourage such practices.  Catholics have long been studying and commenting on sacred scripture a millennium before Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation came on the scene and their are now plenty of new Bible Study apostolates growing in the Church.

One of the problems most people see with the Catholic Church and the Bible is that they don’t realize they have things backwards. The Church existed before one word of the New Testament was written down. Sola Scriptura would have been a really hard doctrine to follow in the year 33 A.D! Early Christians didn’t just go to their local Christian book store and buy themselves a Bible. The truth is that in the first four centuries of Christianity there was much discussion on what writings actually belonged to the New Testament. The Holy Spirit did not inspire anyone to write a table of contents for us to go by. Sometimes Catholics can take awhile before getting around to defining something and it was the Church that decided on the 27 books of the New Testament that we are all familiar with today during the Councils of Hippo (393 AD) and Carthage (397 AD) and later dogmatically defined during the Council of Trent. Books such as the book of 1 Clement were held as inspired by many while some did not accept the Book of Revelation. It was the Church that decided the matter for the canon that all accept today when it comes to the New Testament. The Holy Spirit guided the Church in her discernment. St. Augustine who was quite active in this period of history where the canon was defined once said “I would not believe the Gospels if it were not for the Church.”

The Church has always taken her stewardship of the scriptures seriously, which is why Catholics have approved versions of the Bible. Catholics may read any version of the scriptures that they want to, but the Church in her prudence approves certain translations for liturgical and other use to protect us from error. This is done not to keep the Bible from Catholics, but to make sure that they have a translation free from outright error. Most Protestants certainly would have a problem with the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ New World Translation which is a very poor translation with an agenda.

But you ask “Hey if Catholics like the Bible so much how come they don’t carry them with them to their Mass?” Well some Catholics do exactly that, but the reality is the Catholic Mass is chock full of scripture from beginning to end. The first half of the Mass is the Liturgy of the Word where on Sundays we get three readings from the Old and New Testament and specifically one from the Gospels. The narratives used during the Eucharist are also straight from scripture and pretty much everything from the beginning of Mass to the end of it you are being immersed in scripture. If you just go to Mass on Sundays you will experience almost all of scripture during the three year cycle of readings that are used in the lectionary and those who go to daily Mass will experience all of scripture within a two year cycle of readings.

The Liturgy of the Hours which is required reading for all priests and religious each day and is strongly recommended for also the laity is also chock full of scripture. Each day as we go through the Office of Readings, Morning and Evening Prayer, and other readings we encounter Holy Scripture throughout – especially the Psalms.  Many of the prayers the Church uses are straight from scripture and the first half of the Hail Mary prayer comes from Luke 1:28.  Pretty much everywhere you turn in the documents of the Church whether it is the Catechism, encyclicals, or other Church letters you will come into contact with scripture constantly.

So if Catholics don’t like scripture than they have done a real lousy job by totally saturating everything with it.  In fact by preserving scripture Catholics have made it available for everyone and so if you are a Protestant next time you go to a Wednesday night Bible Study, thank a Catholic.

We all have fears and phobias. The Church has patron saints to protect you from them. Print this list out and carry it with you so you will have the prayers you need to get you through the terrors of every day life.

St. Gertrude of Nevilles (March 17)

Suriphobia – Fear of Mice

In Australia a mouse plague swept the countryside and farmers killed 544 tons of mice in an attempt to save their crops. A similar disaster in Germany may have contributed to the collapse of the nation in 1917. In 1928 a brave mouse in America named Willie piloted his steamboat down the river and whistled all the way. Australians and Germans are afraid of mice. Americans make pilgrimages to California and Florida to see a famous rodent. I have a friend whose mom and sister spent hours standing on a chair because they thought they saw a mouse in their kitchen, but I think that reaction is unusual. Rats are a little unnerving, but mice don’t attack children or pets and they don’t generally harm people. For you who think all rodents carry the plague, St. Getrude is your patron saint. She had little known experience with real mice, but she had a great devotion to the souls in purgatory who were often represented as mice.

St. Gertrude, you were born only one hundred years after the Plague of Justinian and rodents must have been part of your daily life. The same fuzzy animals that ravage crops and carry disease can be used as inspiration for cartoons and theme parks. Pray that I may see rodents in their proper perspective knowing that they can be used for many good things like companionship, fur, and pet food. Amen.

St. Patrick of Ireland (March 17)

Ophidiophobia – Fear of Snakes

I am not afraid of snakes. I don’t own any snakes and I would be alarmed if I saw one on a plane, but they aren’t all that scary. But I can say that I have been protected from them on at least one occasion. I was playing paintball in the woods with a new remote line for my marker when I thought I heard a CO2 leak. I immediately ducked to examine my equipment. Carefully checking all the connections I found nothing wrong with the gun yet the hissing remained. As I was pondering this conundrum, in the corner of my eye I noticed a coiled up rattle snake shaking his tail just eighteen inches from my feet and less than three feet from my face. I jumped out of my hiding place and escaped without injury but I am well aware that St. Patrick held that snake down for me. The legend of St. Patrick says that he drove the snakes out of Ireland. It is likely that the island never had snakes to begin with, but it is certain that he drove the Druids out of Ireland which is also a great achievement. Honestly, I would have been even more surprised if it was a Druid coiled up in the grass waiting to bite my face.

St. Patrick, you banished the slithering snakes from your country and helped turn it into a Christian nation. When serpents enter my life help me to get them behind me. God cursed them so why can’t I? Pray for me that I may come out from under my rock of fear and experience a snake-free existence basking in the light of creation the way God originally intended. Amen.

St. Sithney of Brittany (August 4)

Hydrophobia – Fear of Water

Water, water everywhere. The aliens in Signs must have been surprised. 71% of the earth’s surface is water and of course our bodies contain about the same percentage. Water is essential for life on earth but it can cause much destruction. Hurricanes, typhoons, and heavy rains have caused untold damage around the world. With a little prognostication Napoleon might have been hydroloophobic but for most people a fear of water is just as peculiar as Monk’s fear of milk. The patron saint for those with an irrational fear of water is St. Sithney. Legend says that God asked him to be the patron of girls seeking husbands and that St. Sithney said he’d rather take care of mad dogs. The water from his well is used as a tonic to cure sick dogs and also hydrophobics. I don’t know how you get them to drink it.

St. Sithney, when I fear water I am fearing 70% of my body. I don’t have a proper appreciation for summer rains, beaches, or miraculous springs and I could really use a bath. Pray for me that I may be showered with God’s protection and that I may receive Christ who is the Living Water. Amen.

St. Gratus of Aosta (September 7)

Insectophobia – Fear of Insects

Whether they come at you like an Egyptian plague or just appear on the inside of the driver-side window, insects are creepy. In some cultures they are considered a culinary delicacy but in America they tend to be used for nightmarish spectacles on shows like Fear Factor. They say every creature was created with a purpose but I can’t help but wonder if maybe insects have outlived their usefulness. For those of you who have a body mass a million times that of a bug but still can’t be in a room with one of them, pray to St. Gratus. His entirely fictitious biography says he traveled to Jerusalem to recover the holy relic of the head of St. John the Baptist. His story does not include any tales about insects but we can imagine that a man who is not afraid to carry around the severed (locust-eating) head of a five-hundred year old saint is probably not afraid of crickets either.

St. Gratus, you showed no hesitation in dealing with nature in all its inglorious glory. God created all the creeping things for a purpose but I pray that I am never part of that purpose. Please guide the insects to their homes outside and away from my car, bedroom, and shower drain. Protect me when our paths cross and give me the courage I need in dangerous situations. Amen.

St. Giles (September 1)

Noctiphobia – Fear of Night

Many people are scared of the dark and some people are even scared of falling asleep. They echo the sentiments of Count Saknussem who didn’t sleep because he couldn’t stand those “little slices of death”. I have never met anyone who was actually afraid of the night. Sure, the townspeople in The Village were a little noctiphobic and Robert Neville locked himself up before sunset in I Am Legend, but those folks were really more concerned about monsters and zombies than they were about the setting sun. But if you insist that you are afraid of the night then your patron saint is St. Giles, a Greek monk who lived in France. His claims to this phobia are as tenuous the phobia itself. He was a miracle worker who drank milk from a deer and was crippled by the king’s hunting party. Many wondrous tales of his good works abound but none of them have to do with night.

Dear St. Giles, you worked many wonders in your life and showed great compassion for the poor and disabled. You may or may not have been afraid of the night but I ask that you comfort me as the sun sets. Christ was both born and resurrected during the still of night, showing Himself to be master of both. Let this night be a time of rest for me, a mini Sabbath, and pray that I may be given peace. Amen.

St. Friard (August 1)

Spheksophobia – Fear of Wasps

At the college I attended most of the students were of conventional social makeup; ultimate frisbee playing, Princess Bride watching, white russian drinking young adults. However, the undergrad population was also tastefully seasoned with certain… irregular personalities. One such character was a guy who always dressed like he was on safari. Not only did he wear a wide-brimmed beekeeping hat and gloves, he also darted from building to building and tree to tree. The whole effect was rather comical and we all thought that he was running from imaginary bees or wasps. Had that been the case he would have been thrilled to know that St. Friard was watching over him. Little is known about St. Friard except that he was a French hermit renowned for his piety. When he was tormented by the locals a cloud of wasps attacked them and they didn’t leave until St. Friard prayed for them.

Holy Friard, you faced tormentors for the sake of your faith and you prayed that God’s mercy would be shown to those who stung you with their harsh words. By your steadfast faith, you were able to banish a cloud of wasps. I pray with you for our spheksophobic brothers and sisters who find themselves pursued by striped insects that they may realize that insects, are more afraid of us than we are of them. Amen.

(not that kind of director!)

Catholics like spiritual directors. Good luck finding one…but we like them a lot.

Good luck finding a handy definition for spiritual direction as well. Basically, THE Spiritual Director is the Holy Spirit. The human director is a person with whom you discuss your spiritual journey, who teaches you to notice and yield to God’s call for your life. Expect that she doesn’t tell you what God wants. Instead, she asks questions that help you hear God’s voice in your soul. Clear as mud?

OK, let’s do a via negativa exercise: getting at a definition by looking at what spiritual direction is not.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying. I’ve only prayed twice this month.
Not a Spiritual Director: Yeah, me too. I’m kind of wrapped up in election coverage right now. Whaddya think about the veep specs?

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: Geez. Why is saying a Hail Mary so hard already? It’s 51 short words. Come on, get on your knees, I’m dragging out the rosaries.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: So have you been exorcised recently? ‘Cause I can’t think of any other reason.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: Well, look, I’ve always thought prayer was overrated. Go do some Reiki or something; that should be enough for God.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: I’m not surprised. I just don’t think you’re the praying sort. That’s for those people really called to be holy.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: So did Mother Teresa. I think you’re called to join the Missionaries of Charity.

Directee: I’m having a hard time praying.
Not a Spiritual Director: OK, here’s what you do. … Got it? Good. That was easy.

The more correct responses would be:
Real Spiritual Director: (nods, silence, waiting for more) or
Real Spiritual Director: Does that concern you? Could you tell me more about that? or
Real Spiritual Director: Hmmm. So what’s going on?

And then a spiritual director listens a lot, trying to guide directees to fully understand what they are saying, and helping them listen to and discern what God is communicating to them at this place in their lives.

Spiritual directors are important because, as the Second Vatican Council underlined for us, all human beings are called to the heights of holiness. But with the clutter and noise of modern life, not to mention the often anonymous feel to many mega-parishes, a companion who is walking the journey helps. Otherwise, it is like training for a marathon without help. Do-able, but so very hard.

This is a journey, remember, with an end–our hoped ultimate end, life in Christ. They’re called directors because they are bellwethers, providing a leading pointer: this way, not that. Some people will call them spiritual companions or friends, to remind people that they are human too, not some super-guru (fair enough point). But when my first director suggested that the term spiritual companion was better, I sputtered “