The Pledge of the Legion of Decency

+ In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. I condemn all indecent and immoral motion pictures, and those which glorify crime or criminals. I promise to do all that I can to strengthen public opinion against the production of indecent and immoral films, and to unite with all who protest against them. I acknowledge my obligation to form a right conscience about pictures that are dangerous to my moral life. I pledge myself to remain away from them. I promise, further, to stay away altogether from places of amusement which show them as a matter of policy.

And any movie that has cute, inept or lazy nuns.

I added that last part.

I don't watch many movies. Once in a while I get roped into something, but I never seek out a film on my own. I still miss the Legion of Decency, which slowly faded into oblivion. I suppose if it were around today, people would laugh in the face of the Legion of Decency. Sadly, when it was around, it always seemed to me that a thumbs down from the Legion guaranteed a hit, because of the curiosity factor. (It's the same reason I would sometimes like to tell William Donahue to shut up, if I was so rude as to tell people to shut up. Perhaps we will merely request that he pipe down lest he slowly fade into oblivion. Anyhow I fear for his life, as his red-faced hysterics may cause him to have a stroke.)

In the Colosseum a thumbs down actually meant a thumb's up. A thumbs down from the crowd meant the gladiator was to put his sword in the ground. A thumbs up meant ram the sword into the loser. Maybe that's what went wrong with the Legion of Decency.

I've been thinking about this because the last couple of days I referenced two 'nun' movies. Both horrible disappointments. I think all of the nun movies have disappointed me for one of two reasons. Either they are wretched depictions of religious life, like Mary Tyler Moore in "A Change of Habit", or the nuns just aren't up to snuff, like "A Nun's Story" or that inept bunch that has to have a Vegas show girl save them in "Sister Act". Disappointing.

Wait! there is a third reason. I'll come back to that.

In "A Change of Habit" beautiful perky Mary Tyler Moore plays a nun who works in the ghetto.
(I've never seen a movie about a nun who works in a fancy neighborhood full of McMansions and people who send their children to astronaut camp in the summer as some of our parishioners have. They always work in the Congo or the slums or the soup kitchen or something. Good for them. We wouldn't want William Donahue to complain.) Sister Mary works feverishly in the ghetto .....to get the bishop to let the nuns there drop their habits and blend in with the folks. Hence the title of the film. When the bishop reluctantly grants her request she only manages to blend in with handsome Doctor Elvis and his swingin' guitar. They play football. I am absolutely certain that this is a near occasion of sin.

As bad as all of this sounds the worst part is actually the end of the film in which Sister Mary Tyler Moore must choose between the convent and Elvis. She does this during Mass!!!! as her eyes furtively shift from Jesus to Elvis and back..shifty shifting forth and back and forth. I hope the Jesus statue is one of those kind that looks at you wherever you go. Her choice is left in question.

But let's face it, she loves her eye makeup and capri pants too much for us to hope she skipped a chance at marrying a doctor. A swingin' guitar doctor who plays football and works in the ghetto.

At least Audrey Hepburn gave it the old college try in "A Nun's Story". The valiant nuns she works with in the Congo are kind brave souls. I can't remember why Audrey quits exactly, except that she can't get her brain around obedience. Ever. Compared to her cohorts in the Congo she is just too waif-like and lazy. So long Sister Audrey!

I'll never get over that crowd of Goofenheimers in "Sister Act". If you ever find out I've been rescued from my stupidity by a Vegas show girl, please remind me to follow Sister Audrey out the door. I'll put on big giant fake eyelashes and my capri pants when I go.

And then there is "Sister Act II". Are there a whole new crowd of Goofenheimers? Or did the first crowd fall apart after they had no pretend nun to show them the way?

Which brings me to reason three. Once again, the 'cuteness' factor. Spare me.

I did love Deborah Kerr in "Heaven Knows Mr. Allison".

The Story, Morning Glory

Just a quick note. It's a morning glory. Here in California things don't die off. I think I read somewhere that some areas around here have passed laws not to plant these things. I know my neighbors would like to have me arrested at this point. This is an actual picture from our poor garden. There is a wall under there and a passion flower.

Ipomoea indica
oceanblue morning glory

Native to Florida

Oceanblue morning glory is just one of many (about 25) native and non-native morning glory vines in Florida (Wunderlin, 1998).It is a frequent native vine of disturbed sites throughout the state. It blooms all year. Oceanblue morning glory is located in AL, CA, FL, HI, LA, TX, and PR (Kartesz, 1999).

Ours actually don't bloom in the winter or grow too much. But they don't die off either.

I'm actually typing right now from underneath this vine. No, I'm not.

By tomorrow I will be.

I forgot to mention that this thing has actually grown into the house on several occasions. It's in the bathroom and the hallway. It came right through the roof. Once it came in through the bathroom window. (Didn't anybody tell you?)


Two more things:

1. We're having a big Mary sale for the whole month of May in our shop.
We'll be adding items every day!

2. If you get a moment, please drop by the Blogger's Choice Awards and cast your vote! You'll find lots of other reading material there, too.

We didn't know we were so competitive. Now Sister St. Aloysius is following our progress like a dog with a bone. Actually, more like a cat with a bug. A little fluttery bug. Perhaps she'll reward our voters with her brownie recipe.

Or perhaps I will....I found the book from whence it came.



Here is the poor buried passion flower being murdered by the morning glory. Plant violence is so quiet.

The Mary Month of May

Okay! It's Hyperdulia month! We are already behind the eight ball! Our Mary garden is in shambles.

I started the Mary garden years ago, but Sister St. Aloysius has a special love of sitting out there to contemplate. She has rather taken it over, which is fine with me. You'd think she would have clued me into what an overgrown mess it's become. I mentioned this to her but she just said that she was enjoying watching everything grow so vigorously. I made a mental note to give thanks once again that her proclivities preclude her from being in front of a classroom.

I guess I should have learned my lesson about our relative tolerance for messes during the stove debacle.

I started the Mary garden with a "Mary" rose. You wouldn't believe the fragrance. I wasn't planning on going berserk out in our little patch of green, but then I stumbled across "Our Lady of Guadalupe". When you purchase an "Our Lady of Guadalupe" rose, part of the proceeds go to some charity. I don't know which one. I was too excited just finding it. It smells heavenly, too...but not as heavenly as the "Mary" rose.

Then one day while I was looking for rose food, I found the "Nun". It's a pure white rose. Not much fragrance. (At least it doesn't have a bad smell!) Eventually I added "The Garden of Eden" (Mary is the "new Eve") which is a climber and we found a discarded trellis in an alley to wind it around. I'm still kicking myself that I didn't grab the "Rose of St. Ann" (Mary's mom) when I had the chance. Now I can't find it anywhere.

I begrudgingly added the "Audrey Hepburn". She left the convent, you know, at the end of "A Nun's Story". Hope I didn't spoil the ending for you if you've never seen it. I'll tell you what, the ending spoils the whole movie, anyhow. Just watch it until she leaves the convent and then shut it off. You'll feel much better than if you watched the whole thing. I'm generally not so judgmental about girls who leave the convent, but Audrey didn't do us any favors in that film. At least Mary Tyler Moore kept us guessing if she was going to choose Jesus or Elvis. Viva Los Convent.

Sigh. I should face up to the fact that she probably chose Elvis. No nun could wear that much eye make-up and choose Jesus. How can that woman see out of those eyes? Her world must be a blur of black.

Where was I? Oh, yes, our Mary garden.

At one point, I unwittingly planted a morning glory in the ground near the back door. I had no idea the properties of this plant. This morning glory now covers the entire house and part of the neighbor's houses and trees, even though I tore it out of the ground years ago. Not only does it grow about a foot a day...and I'm not exaggerating...it also roots itself into the ground wherever it touches down.

It's like the devil. It's everywhere and you can't get rid of it. You can only keep hacking at it and ripping it out.

It's all over the entire garden and all the roses, which means our penance will be meticulously pulling it out of the roses while the roses, ever ungrateful, try to stab us to death.

We're looking forward to the rest of the this joyous month.

We'll have to run a Mary sale in the shop! Use the proceeds to purchase a Mary statue for the garden. Right now we only have a little statue of St. Rita. I really like her. She had to spend her life all alone in her room at the convent after she got her stigmata thorn wound. It smelled so terrible no one could stand to be around her. Ironic, since she had to work so hard to get them to let her into the convent in the first place. When she died her room smelled of roses. I thought she would enjoy being out among the the roses and their thorns.

Dulia Who?

We're still having questions about honoring the saints and, I'm sorry to say, praying to the saints, which we never do even though no one believes us. For the zillioneth time, we are asking the saints to pray for us, just like we would ask we ask one another to remember each other in prayer. I guess the saints are supposed to just sit around in heaven enjoying their hobbies and forget about us until we get to heaven and get to sit around with them. Someone brought up dulia and hyperdulia as if this would be helpful. Although these Latin terms sound like something you might hear about on a drug commercial, they help explain how we honor the saints. I have serious doubts that someone who can't understand that we don't pray to the saints or that the saints might be interested in praying for us, the most simple straight forward explanation possible, is going to get dulia and hyperdulia through their thick skull. I really do. But here goes:

Let's pretend for a moment that there is no afterlife. No saints, no heaven. Like the John Lennon song. Only let's not pretend to be John Lennon. Because when we stop pretending you could seriously go to hell for doing things John Lennon did while you were pretending.

So who do we honor the most? I'll let you decide who that is for yourself. Mom, grandma, you lovely Aunt Clara who raised you. It's that person that you can't hear anyone say a bad word about, the one that is set apart from everyone else you know because they are so special to you. The Bestest of the best. We can say that, because we're in this pretend world and we don't have to worry about bad grammar or what should be capitalized either.

That's hyperdulia.

(It's not really.....remember we're pretending. It's a good thing, too, or we'd be married to Yoko Ono.)

All the other people that we honor, the brave soldiers, the wise teachers (I would say priests, but there aren't any...no need for them with no heaven or afterlife), helpful relatives...you get the picture. These are all people we honor because they are deserving of our honor.

That's dulia.

Not really...just in this pretend world, the one in which atheists and people who think they are witches and vampires live. The one where we would actually like hearing Yoko Ono sing.

So here in the real world, where we can't get to the 'off' button fast enough should we so much as see Yoko Ono, we have these two types of veneration.

Hyperdulia is only for the Blessed Mother Mary, no one else.

Dulia is for the Church Triumphant, the angels and saints as friends of God. The heavenly host.

Don't get your knickers in a knot. There is no worship involved. Worhip is for God alone.
For God we have Latria. A class by itself.

Regular honor is for the Church Militant, those of us alive here on earth.

Since I'm on this honesty kick, let's come clean and admit that many of us have given good reason for some people to remain thick headed about Catholics and the saints. I have entered more than one home that had Mary practically dripping from the ceiling. Every surface, every space on the wall had a statue of the Immaculate Conception or a picture of Mary and St Ann, Guadalupe standing alongside Fatima, the Mater Dolorosa, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, The Queen of Heaven, Stella Maris, rosaries hanging from every frame and mirror. Besides the crucifix over the bed and the fact that Mary is holding the Baby Jesus in some of the statues, Jesus doesn't seem to be very important.

Oh well. There's a reason it's called HYPER dulia. It's still not latria. Even if it looks like it. No wonder people get confused.

Dulia is also what we call the type of veneration we have for relics, which include items a saint has used while he or she was alive (that's a second class relic). This veneration also drives the separated brethren round the bend. We'll talk about that the day the separated brethren toss Uncle Joe's Purple Heart in the trash along with their old copies of Teen Beat and yesterday's soup cans. The day that John Lennon's autograph has no monetary value.

I was very nervous about my confession entry. I thought it might upset people and it seems it may have. I had been thinking about it for quite some time and almost posted about it several times and thought better of it. The combination of the Pope's words about St. Augustine and the news about Limbo put me over the edge.

In my agitated state I made two more errors! I shouldn't have said that I read "The Catechism of the Catholic Church" way back when. I should have said I read the Catechism of the Catholic Church...one by St. Augustine and one by Pope Pius the X. I actually got my hands on "The Catechism of the Catholic Church" in the mid nineties and it was an odd moment in time, I'll tell you.

I was speaking at another parish about the need for help for retired nuns and was peppered with questions about some of the things the old nuns had been up to there in the classroom. Suffice to say we went down the road we traveled yesterday here on the blog for a little ways. The parish priest snuck up to me afterward.

He snuck. I want to make that clear. He said he had a copy of "The Catechism of the Catholic Church" that he wanted to give me. He told me that he wasn't supposed to give it to me and I shouldn't let anyone know I had it. He wasn't joking.

He was so sincere and adamant that I actually kept that copy, which I still have, under lock and key and never told anyone I had it for quite some time.

I have only recently discovered the joys of the internets. It wasn't so very long after I got my clandestine Catechism that I found it online. Doh!

My other babbling about Judas....where do I start? How is it that we are aware of things and unaware of them at the same time?

During a class one day I found myself patiently explaining that we don't take everything so literally in the Bible and the New Testament as some of our separated brethren. I was getting some guff from this group, which included some separated brethren, so I asked them to answer this question: How many angels were at the tomb when Jesus rose from the dead? The answer is none. In John.
The answer is two. In Luke. At least there were two men in dazzling apparel who gave the disciples the word on why the tomb was empty.
In Matthew an angel comes down and rolls the stone away.
In Mark there is an angel sitting alone in the empty tomb. You may know him as Pat Boone.

I thought I had put the lid on their guff. But later in the class the Judas hanging came up and one of the separated brethren brought up the fact that in Acts, Judas buys a field with his thirty pieces of silver and trips in the field and dies. His intestines spill out. I'm sure they brought that up just to get back at me about the angels.

I thought it best to stop talking about the Judas hanging. Although Judas is an interesting case to discuss why we don't ever say for a fact that someone is in hell.

In recent years I stumbled upon (on the internets) some fellow that had an explanation for the two Judas stories. According to this man, Judas threw the thirty pieces of silver to the ground and hanged himself. The Pharisees picked up the thirty pieces of silver and bought the field, Judas hanging from the tree and all. Everyone just left Judas hanging there until the rope he was hanging from rotted and his body fell to the ground. Of course his body was in terrible shape by then and that caused the 'explosion'. Yikes. This fellow with this theory states this story on his website as though it is an absolute fact.

We'll pray for the intercession of St. Augustine for him.

I Stand Corrected

Today the Pope visited the tomb of St. Augustine. I think it was the tomb. I know it was someplace that prompted His Holiness to talk about St. Augustine, the "model of conversion." I'm too disturbed to get the specifics.

I'm still in a state about Limbo.

Not about the Church's teachings on Limbo and all of that. It's something else that has surfaced several times here on the blog that no one has ever questioned, which is very surprising to me. It's about nuns, specifically teaching nuns.

They're not always right. And they don't even seem to know when they're not right. And sometimes they just make things up altogether.

There I've said it.

Actually, I've said it before. (scroll down for the story of the ant's nest)

I've decided to bring it up again because of the Pope's words today about St. Augustine. He pointed out that St. Augustine corrected his own writings as he grew more in understanding, a sign of humility.

I'm sorry I never mentioned to my second graders that Limbo was just an idea. I'm sorry I told them that everyone who commits suicide goes straight to hell. I'm sorry I told them they would go to hell if they ate meat on Friday. Although I think that might have been true at the time. I actually didn't think it was true at the time, but Mother Superior told me it was.

Back when I was teaching second graders that Limbo was a fact and that all suicides go straight to hell, I didn't know any better myself.

Everyone assumes that nuns are highly educated carriers of the Catholic flame. Nothing could be further from the truth. I think it is true nowdays. Sister St. Aloysius is living proof of that. I'm not talking about all nuns, or modern nuns.

I'm talking about my nuns.

People have often asked me how I heard the call. Here's another confession. I didn't. Like dozens and dozens of other girls who entered the convent when I did, I was just a homely girl with no prospects. I could be a spinster or I could have a career of some kind. The convent seemed like a good choice. And like St. Augustine, my calling grew on me.

Not everyone can be Audrey Hepburn.


The dozens and dozens of girls who entered the convent were separated into two basic groups. The really dim bulbs went to work in the kitchens and houses. The ones with a little something upstairs did get a better education. Especially in a teaching order.

But no one ever taught us how to teach back in those days. We were on our own. We never had a chance to discuss what in the world we should do with a roomful of wiggling children because we were never allowed to hang around with each other much. We all moved around so much they didn't want us to any make attachments. If I went to the store with Sister Mary Consolette today, I wouldn't be going to the store with her for the rest of the month.

The time we didn't spend grading papers was spent in prayer and in adoration and in service. As far as education goes, we didn't get much chance to upgrade. I don't think I ever read "the Catechism of the Catholic Church" until the 1970's. I was shocked at how much I had misunderstood or never knew in the first place.

I've made a real effort ever since to correct errors.

Limbo was just an idea.

People who commit suicide may go to hell. Taking your own life is a mortal sin. But we have no way of knowing where any individual ended up, good bad or otherwise, unless that person is a canonized saint.

And frankly, not even then, as some of the canonized saints, the ones who were canonized before canonization was invented, never existed in the first place.

A person who commits suicide may be in such a state as to not understand what he or she is doing, which makes them incapable of sin, for one thing. And on top of that, even if they did know what they were doing, as their life ebbed away they may have thought better of it and repented. The Big Oops. We could never say that didn't happen. We even have funeral masses for them now. Another problem corrected.

We also told everyone that Judas ran off and hung himself. I don't know why. That's what we all thought...nuns, I mean. And that St. Peter was so upset that he denied Jesus three times that St. Peter had grooves on his cheeks from crying. I don't know when I stopped telling that one. It was a favorite of mine until it just suddenly dawned I me that it came out of nowhere.

Not nowhere...it came out of Sister Marillia. Who knows who told her.

Today the Pope visited the tomb of St. Augustine. I think it was the tomb. I know it was someplace that prompted His Holiness to talk about St. Augustine, the "model of conversion." I'm too disturbed to get the specifics.

I'm still in a state about Limbo.

Not about the Church's teachings on Limbo and all of that. It's something else that has surfaced several times here on the blog that no one has ever questioned, which is very surprising to me. It's about nuns, specifically teaching nuns.

They're not always right. And they don't even seem to know when they're not right. And sometimes they just make things up altogether.

There I've said it.

Actually, I've said it before. (scroll down for the story of the ant's nest)

I've decided to bring it up again because of the Pope's words today about St. Augustine. He pointed out that St. Augustine corrected his own writings as he grew more in understanding, a sign of humility.

I'm sorry I never mentioned to my second graders that Limbo was just an idea. I'm sorry I told them that everyone who commits suicide goes straight to hell. I'm sorry I told them they would go to hell if they ate meat on Friday. Although I think that might have been true at the time. I actually didn't think it was true at the time, but Mother Superior told me it was.

Back when I was teaching second graders that Limbo was a fact and that all suicides go straight to hell, I didn't know any better myself.

Everyone assumes that nuns are highly educated carriers of the Catholic flame. Nothing could be further from the truth. I think it is true nowdays. Sister St. Aloysius is living proof of that. I'm not talking about all nuns, or modern nuns.

I'm talking about my nuns.

People have often asked me how I heard the call. Here's another confession. I didn't. Like dozens and dozens of other girls who entered the convent when I did, I was just a homely girl with no prospects. I could be a spinster or I could have a career of some kind. The convent seemed like a good choice. And like St. Augustine, my calling grew on me.

The dozens and dozens of girls who entered the convent were separated into two basic groups. The really dim bulbs went to work in the kitchens and houses. The ones with a little something upstairs did get a better education. Especially in a teaching order.

But no one ever taught us how to teach back in those days. We were on our own. We never had a chance to discuss what in the world we should do with a roomful of wiggling children because we were never allowed to hang around with each other much. We all moved around so much they didn't want us to any make attachments. If I went to the store with Sister Mary Consolette today, I wouldn't be going to the store with her for the rest of the month.

The time we didn't spend grading papers was spent in prayer and in adoration and in service. As far as education goes, we didn't get much chance to upgrade. I don't think I ever read "the Catechism of the Catholic Church" until the 1970's. I was shocked at how much I had misunderstood or never knew in the first place.

I've made a real effort ever since to correct errors.

Limbo was just an idea.

People who commit suicide may go to hell. Taking your own life is a mortal sin. But we have no way of knowing where any individual ended up, good bad or otherwise, unless that person is a canonized saint.

And frankly, not even then, as some of the canonized saints, the ones who were canonized before canonization was invented, never existed in the first place.

A person who commits suicide may in such a state as to not understand what he or she is doing, which makes them incapable of sin, for one thing. And on top of that, even if they did know what they were doing, as their life ebbed away they may have thought better of it and repented. the Big Oops. We could never say that didn't happen. We even have funeral masses for them now. Another problem corrected.

We also told everyone that Judas ran off and hung himself. I don't know why. That's what we all thought...nuns, I mean. And that St. Peter was so upset that he denied Jesus three times that St. Peter had grooves on his cheeks from crying. I don't know when I stopped telling that one. It was a favorite of mine until it just suddenly dawned I me that it came out of nowhere.

Not nowhere...it came out of Sister Marillia. Who knows who told her.

Limbo Is Out of Limbo

By now I'm sure you've all heard the news. Limbo is gone. Again.

I have to admit, I'm confused. I didn't know Limbo had re-opened again in the first place. I thought it was closed for the second time back in the sixties, even though not long ago I heard good old Mother Angelica do a whole show about how stupid it was for anyone to think there was no Limbo. I was only half paying attention to the program because Sister Mary Fiacre identifies with Mother Angelica on some level and was being noisy about it. Perhaps Mother Angelica looks like someone Sister Mary Fiacre once knew. I'm not sure what Sister Mary Fiacre was trying to say. Perhaps it was, "Mother Angelica, PLEASE, we closed Limbo back in the sixties!"

I've also read this stupid remark, "Limbo is in limbo." No, it's not. It's gone. Again.
Limbo 101.

1. Limbo was never doctrine in the church. It was an idea that was bandied about by St. Thomas Aquinas because he was worried about what happened to all the little unbaptized babies and the Aborigines who died with Original Sin on their souls. "Hmmmmm, " thought Thomas, "Surely the innocent and the un-Catechized would not go to hell with all the other unbaptized people who knew better but were too lazy and sinful to be baptized? But you can't go to heaven if you're not baptized. " So, Thomas surmised, God must have some really nice place for them to go. All the little babies and their Aborigine baby sitters. They would all be happy, but they would never see God.

Although Limbo was never really doctrine in the Catholic Church I can tell you for a fact that for a very long time not many Catholics knew that. All the nuns I knew, the ones who taught me, the ones with whom I taught, right up to good old Mother Angelica, never mentioned anything about Limbo being just an idea. They taught us about Limbo, period.

2. There was a Limbo before that Limbo. It's where everyone who died before Jesus opened the gates of heaven landed. That's what Jesus was doing on all day on Holy Saturday while he was dead. He went to Limbo and let everyone out. That's what we mean when we say "He descended into Hell". We don't really mean "hell", we mean the "Limbo of the Fathers."

It must have been really weird for Judas to arrive in the afterlife just as Limbo closed and hell opened. One of the other things my grade school nuns taught me as though it was a fact was that Judas went to hell because he hanged himself and suicide is a mortal sin. (They shouldn't have gone around saying that because we don't know if Judas is in hell. In fact, we never say anyone is in hell, not even Hitler. We give everyone the benefit of the doubt. At the last second anybody could have said, "What was I thinking!!??" But Judas could well be the first permanent resident of Hell. What timing!)

So there was the Limbo of the Fathers.
Then there was no Limbo.
Then there was the idea of Limbo.
And if we are honest with ourselves, we'll have to say Limbo re-opened for the babies and the Aborigines in the minds of millions of Catholics. We'll call it:
Wishful thinking Limbo.

Then I thought that Limbo was permanently closed after Vatican II. That's why I'm so surprised with yesterday's announcement that Limbo was closed. Again. It should be covered in cobwebs by now, musty and unusable.

Perhaps some people would just not let go. People who actually have their own television show.

Anyhow, now it is closed. The babies and the Aborigines all went to heaven right away, they never were in Limbo because the church is saying there was never a baby Limbo in the first place. I think a lot of people are going to be really happy to hear that. A lot of people.

But not everyone.

Tough Love

Everyone's kept me busy, I'll say that much.

From Freddie:
Sister, I wish you would write about why the church won't accept people who divorce and re-marry unless the first marriage is annulled. I can't get my wife to understand.

The problem is I want to become a Catholic and my wife was married before. She doesn't get why *she* has to do all this nosy paperwork when *I'm* the one who wants to be Catholic. She is happily Protestant. I might get her to convert someday too, but right now I can't even get myself into the church.

Thanks and have a nice day.


Goodness, Freddie. I'll write about it, but you should read my disclaimer, "Life is tough, but nuns are tougher....and don't expect any sympathy."

To begin with, the church is accepting you. If it wasn't you wouldn't have any paper work to do. So your real question is "why is the church making me do all this paperwork?"

Because that's our job. I know it doesn't seem like it should be our job, considering Jesus was all about love and forgiveness. Paperwork doesn't seem very Jesus-y. But keep in mind that Jesus could, in fact, read and write.

Here's the thing, Freddie. We have to get this straightened out because, as the Catholic church does not recognize the divorce...anyone's...,you are living with a woman who is still married to someone else. Not only are you not married in the eyes of the church, you are actually living in adultery. Surely they've explained this to you.

And as big as this problem is since your sins are being compounded (one would imagine, but let's not for the sake of our own near occasions of sin) as time drags on, the really big problem is your 'wife's' lack of interest in resolving the issue. May I make this suggestion: remind her of her 'wedding' vows "to love and to cherish". Helping you become a Catholic is a very good way to love and cherish you.

That, and separate beds.

You have more hurdles ahead, poor man. Once her previous marriage is annulled (which means the contract was null and void and therefore didn't exist) she is free to marry you. I'm pretty sure the church won't make you spring for another wedding. But you will be married to a non-Catholic.

The Catholic church is okay with that....but not happy about it.You can already see the problems it causes; a veritable field of near occasion of sin land mines.

And ironically, grounds for annulment in the future.

We also have this question, an oldie but goodie that we still get all the time:
Are the people who went to hell for eating meat on Friday there for eternity?

Are they supplied with wieners and sticks?

The people who went to hell for eating meat on Friday were Grandfathered into heaven with all the babies from Limbo when Limbo closed in the sixties. Since they were going to heaven, they left their wieners and sticks for the devil to poke the other people in hell. The people that ate before receiving Communion......

Jello Salad

I often run informal polls. For example, years ago, during the 'real men don't eat quiche' crisis, I asked everyone I could find, given the choice of a plate of pasta or a steak, which they would prefer? Most of the women went for the pasta. All of the men went for the steak. On another occasion, I tried to find out if there were any people who hated Jell-o. I didn't find anyone who actually couldn't bear to eat Jell-o, but I did find several people who hated it's globby consistency.

Recently I asked everyone I could find who was not Catholic what were the tenets of their faith? What are the beliefs that separate the separated brethren? What makes a Baptist not a Congregationalist? etc.

Not one person had an answer for me. They all had answer for why they attended the church they attended, meaning that building with those people in it. But other than "Jesus Saved Me", they could not tell me what they believed.


I mention this today as a prelude to this question from yet another anonymous reader:

A couple of blogs ago someone mentioned that there is a big difference between the RCC & the Episcopal Church. Can you explain this in more detail? From what I've been studying, except for allegiance to the Pope, I really see no difference. Thanks!

Let's start with the biggest difference: in a nutshell, the Episcopal Church is the American version of the Angelican Church.

The Roman Catholic Church was founded by Jesus Christ while he was alive on earth.

The Angelican Church was founded by Henry the VIII because he was mad at the Pope when the Pope wouldn't grant him a divorce. (There's a difference for you. Divorce=okay.) Henry figured he could get away with it, because at the same time in Germany, Martin Luther was founding his own church, too. Wheeeeeeeeee!

So right there you've got to ask yourself, would you rather be a member of the church founded by Jesus Christ while he was alive on earth or the church founded by Henry the VIII? Decisions, decisions.....

After the divorce thing, and the no Pope thing, Henry seemed to have trouble coming up any more ideas for his new faith. That's why it seems so similar to you. That may continue to be the case until you go to 'mass' there and the bishop is a woman. A married woman at that.

"Episcopal," by the way, just refers to the fact that the church is run by a group of bishops. Most of us know what happens when things are run by committee. Think Medicare. Public School.

The Episcopal church believes in the 'Real Presence" in the Eucharist, meaning the Host is not just the symbolic Presence of Christ. But they don't believe in transubstantiation. I'm not sure how that works out to be not just symbolic...or what they think they are receiving, exactly.

No Purgatory, either. It's a pass/fail afterlife. You'll have to hope life is an "easy A".

And like all the separated brethren they just cannot seem to get it through their heads that Catholics do not pray TO the saints. So they think that they are different from the Catholic church since they don't pray to the saints. But Catholics don't pray to the saints. We ask the saints to pray for us. They are different from Catholics in that they pretty much ignore the saints, except to name churches after them.

They do go around asking other people to pray for them, but they don't ask Mary or the saints in heaven to pray for them. I need all the help I can get. Can you get into heaven with a B-minus?

There's more: sacraments, sins, women priests, divorce, married priests, saints, statues, rosaries or lack thereof.

You'll have better luck asking people what they like in their Jell-0. And as many answers as there are dominations. The Lutherans like shredded carrots.

USS God

Today's question is from Laura, who is still on the mental health train:

SMM, do you believe that God can completely heal a person of a phobia or some other mental problem. If we say no, aren't we doubting him? Can novena's and rosary's really heal or bring about a hopeless cause? DO you know any success stories. I'm discouraged.
thank you

I do believe that God can completely heal a person of a phobia or some other mental problem or my name wouldn't be Sister Mary Martha. It wouldn't even be Mary Martha for that matter. I won't tell you what it would be. Suffice to say that I'll always remember my fellow novice who was so thrilled the day she became Sister Mary Arthen because her name had been "Florence" and her whole life everyone called her "Flossie", as per the cow.

But I also believe that you'd best not sit around praying for the miracle that saves you. I don't think you're going to wake up one morning after your novena ends and head out to stand out on that thing over the Grand Canyon that whatever that tribe was put up there because you suddenly aren't afraid of heights. Miracles are few and far between or they wouldn't be miracles.

We don't use the word miracle lightly. When we say "miracle" we're not talking about, "Holy Flossie! I got a parking space!" We mean instantaneous and unexplained.

Does this mean I have doubt? Not at all. The best explanation is contained in this old joke, which I'm sure most of you have heard.

You know this one: A priest is hanging on for dear life to the church steeple as the flood waters rise. He prays to God, "Help me, oh God! I have no doubt you will save me!"

A boat rows by and offers the priest a spot but he waves them off. "Save someone else. God will save me! I have no doubt!"

In that there is a 'rule of three' that all jokes have in common, I believe a helicopter comes by and some other thing, but the priests tells them both, "Save someone else! I have no doubt God will save me."

You would think that God would save him, considering the shortage of priests, but the priest drowns. In heaven, the priest says to God, "God, what happened. I never doubted that you would save me but you didn't!"

And God says, "Good heavens, man, I sent you a boat, a helicopter and some other thing and you sent them away!"

So there you go, Laura, don't miss the boat. It's not going to be marked "USS God" or anything. It may be marked, "therapy", "a drug", "a loving family", "a compassionate counselor", "non-judgmental friends", "struggle" and/or "hard work". The only success stories I know of got on board.

Your novenas and prayers will help you stay focused and give you strength to climb aboard. Your skirt may flip up over your head when you try and your prayers will help you find the humility to deal with the embarrassment of having your skirt over your head. And you're still going to need help rowing.

There you go...the rule of three.

St. Dymphna's Talk Show

Here's the thing. I'm not Dr. Laura and I'm not Dr. Ruth (thank the Lord). I'm happy to answer questions about what we believe and even how we came to believe the things we believe. But an arm chair analysis of people's very real problems based on a few sentences with no history or real knowledge is a dangerous thing. I know that because I've listened to Dr. Laura speak to people she doesn't know at all. Dangerous.

Meanwhile I've been haunted by a reader's question about helping a mentally ill friend. I think the other readers have done an admirable job of helping without entering Dr. Lauraland.

What's been haunting me is the idea of praying to God to cure mental illness. It seems to me that if God actually did cure mental illness you wouldn't be able to tell.

People who have come to God do things that are really out there. Trade their clothes with beggars, become beggars, live on top of poles, stop eating, stop sleeping, develop holes in their hands and feet and heads, give up sex, live in cells, levitate, water sticks because they are told to do that, see the Virgin Mary, have visions, visit hell....some of them even homeschool their children.

St. Francis of Assisi was a wealthy boy with a bright future. He bought himself a soldier suit but it just wasn't working for him. On a whim he traded his soldier suit with a beggar. His horrified father told him to get rid of the beggar clothes immediately. Ever obedient to his father, Francis stripped naked and walked away. He eventually developed holes in his hands and feet. No one had ever done that before. He talked to animals. A cult developed around him. They called themselves "Franciscans." Weird.

St. Simon Stilites didn't feel holy enough around other people so he climbed on top of a pole and lived up there. That wasn't good enough either so he kept getting a taller pole. Eventually he lived on top of a sixty foot pillar. Ironically other people had to pass what little food he ate up to him. Most of the time he stood on one leg.

It didn't end there. A whole group of people followed Simon's lead and climbed up onto poles. One of them had two poles. I suppose he was the first person to be bi-poler.

St. Catherine of Sienna only slept three hours a day and ate only the Sacred Host. She married the Baby Jesus in a private ceremony (presided over by the Virgin Mary) and wore an invisible ring that only she could see. She died young.

St. Rita wanted to be a nun but she was too old and had been married and had children. Angels flew her over the convent wall, but that wasn't enough to win the support of the congregation inside. They stuck a stick in the ground and told her to water it everyday, making fun of her while she did so. What a cheery place that convent must have been. She had the last laugh because the stick grew into a tree. The thing is, she wasn't interested in having the last laugh. She just wanted to be a nun. She ended up with a mysterious hole in her head that smelled terrible and she had to live all by herself in a room away from everyone.

St. Teresa of Avila went into a trance, during which she was taken to hell and shown a room under some stairs that was reserved for her. Not unlike Mr. Scrooge on Christmas Eve.

....and then there are the homeschoolers......


....people who actually spend all day and all night with their children and not only have to listen to them and watch them make mess after mess, but they have to come up with a full curriculum for grades K-12 while the baby eats paste. Their motivation? Not too much different from St. Simon Stiles, as far as I can tell.

Mind boggling.

Springer Spring

Holy Toledo! What a question we got yesterday!

Okay Sister Mary, this is a big one and I will understand if it's too much of a topic to tackle....But I am so conflicted. One of my very best friends is in love with a priest, and he feels the same way about her. ( He is 27 and she's 24) They have kept their relationship very hush hush, and only a few people know about it. The problem is..( besides the obvious!) ....he has no intention of leaving the priesthood, because she said she's not ready to get married as she's beginning grad school. I want to be a good friend to her, but ahahahahahaha how can I possibly support them making the priesthood just a temporary job...and does anything he do as a priest even count??? I just do not know what to do and would love to hear your thoughts....God Bless you!

Too much to tackle!?

Here's the simple Ann Landers answer: Unless you live in a police state where the storm troopers are about to haul you off for being in love with the 'wrong' kind of person, the very idea that you have to keep your relationship 'hush hush' tells you something is very wrong with it.

"Do not hide your love under a bushel.".....who was it that said that? I can't think.....

But this is not a simple situation, because we have soooo much to hide. Obviously both parties realize the deep gravity of the situation but are using the "Jerry Springer Excuse" : "We're in LUV".

how can I possibly support them making the priesthood just a temporary job...

You cannot support your friend because to do so would be scandal.

I think a lot of people don't really understand what we mean by scandal. We tend to treat that word as meaning 'shocking.' The actual meaning is that a person's behaviour may lead others to sin. As in a priest who is dating....is now leading several people to think it's okay......because they're in LUV.

Perhaps we should throw a chair at them.

To think I had to read about this during joyous Easter Week.

and does anything he do as a priest even count?

Yes, it does. Everything he does as a priest still counts. He is a 'priest forever'. The Sacrament of Ordination is an indelible mark on the soul. His priestly powers can never go away. It's not like when Superman goes to his ice castle and dumps his powers to he can marry Lois Lane in Superman II (or is it III?). There is no kryptonite for priests.

This fact only makes the scandal all the worse. It's why members of the clergy are punished in Purgatory worse than anyone else because everything any time they sin (and God knows, everyone sins) the potential for scandal is very high. (Don't think you're off the hook, the next rung up on the Purgatory ladder: parents, for the same reason.)

And then there's the sin of the big lie itself. Lying is a sin, too. Someone help me here, as my head is spinning....either St. Augustine or St. Thomas Aquinas said that dishonesty of any kind is the worst sin, period. It's very interesting reading if you can sort out who said it.....I can't right now as I've removed my head and set it in my lap to avoid further thought on the whole matter.

Anyhow, with what's left of my brain I say to you there is no need to be conflicted. Sad, worried, compassionate, forgiving, loving, yes. But conflicted? Time to throw a chair.

Murphy's Oil Soap for the Soul

Now that we have our spring cleaning out of the way and Jesus has risen, I'll spend a little time spring cleaning here and answer the questions that piled up during Holy Week. Murphy's Oil Soap for the pews and the blog, after which I will re-clean the deviled egg droppings off the keyboard. They call them 'deviled' eggs, because the devil makes you eatfour hundred of them so you will drop dead of a heart attack before you can make a good confession.

From Eddie:
Sister, I have a pair of questions I need to find an answer to; do you believe that people can be born with some kind of predetermined instinct to oppose evil in this world?

Here's the thing Eddie, it really doesn't matter.

I would have to say that, yes, some people are born with an instinct to oppose evil. We will not use the word "predetermined". We are not Calvinists. If you read the lives of the saints you will find that quite a few of them were very holy children.

St. Dominic Savio, for example, spent all his time endearing himself to his classmates by breaking up their schoolyard fights and taking away their smutty magazines. St. Aloysius made St. Dominc Savio look like a choir boy. Oh wait...Dominic was a choir boy. In fact, he is the patron saint of choir boys....at any rate, St. Aloysius, who also died in his teens, said a "Hail Mary" on each riser as he climbed any set of stairs. You wouldn't want to be behind him on the staircase. He should be the patron saint of those people who don't move when they get to the top of the escalator.

St. Catherine LaBourre, to whom Our Blessed Mother appeared, had visions her whole life.

Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha was a young Mohawk girl who trekked 200 miles through the wilderness without the benefit of Lewis, Clark or Sacajawea to reach the only mission within 200 miles so she could live among Christians and make herself useful.

St. Maria Goretti was stabbed to death rather than compromise herself and St. Agnes was very young when she was martyred.

And just what was going on with St. Joan of Arc, do you think?

Certainly many people hear the call of God at a young age.

Good for them.

Meanwhile, there are a whole host of other people who ran around like crazy people and still managed to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and become saints. St. Augustine, the original party animal, springs to mind. The city of Santa Monica is named after his mother because when the Spanish conquistodors arrived in what is now that California city the first thing they stumbled upon was a rock that was burbling water non-stop. It reminded them of St. Monica, crying non-stop for her rotten heathen son. I imagine you've heard of St. Augustine? Doctor of the Church?

One of my favorites in this category is St. John of God. St. John spent the first part of his life doing whatever crazy impulsive thing popped into his brain. He was like the guy in Frank Sinatra's song, "That's Life", except for being a king. He was a soldier, a bookseller, a criminal, nearly hanged as a horse thief, a shepherd. After a brief bout of insanity he sold religious books and holy cards but had no religious convictions of his own.

In his forties the Infant Jesus paid him a visit, told John what was expected of him and called him "John of God". The name stuck.

To make up for his wicked ways he opened a house for the sick. He begged for every single pillow and bedpan. When it caught fire one day, he rescued the patients and then went back in for the mattresses.

And St. Teresa of Avila was always embarrassed by her youthful love of perfume and make-up.

Is one type of saint better than the other? One soul more valuable?

It doesn't matter how you get there or even when you get there. It can be on your deathbed. It only matters that you get there.

The good thing about getting there earlier, rather than later, is that you can do a lot of good for a lot of people the sooner you arrive. But we'll love seeing you arrive no matter how late you show up. (anonymous calf wrestler....)

Eddie Part Two:
The other question I have is about the Holy Mother and if she watches over families, through generations, I mean; what do you think about this? Thank you and God bless

Unless I misunderstand the question, it seems to imply that Mary watches over some families more carefully than others. What would you call a mother who played favorites like that? I think we'd call her a not very good mother.

The answer is yes. Mary watches over all families all of the time, generation after generation, not just the handsome ones who get good grades.

Elbow Grease

Barreling through Holy Week we have two left over questions from the other day. I think I'll save Eddie's question until after Easter. Sorry Eddie, but I have pews to polish.

Here is the other question, from poor old anonymous, which we have no time but to address it right away:
My question is, Easter is coming and I am not looking forward to it, and what do I do? I would rather rub along in a Lent-like manner. But isn't one purpose of Lent the preparation for Easter? I feel kind of repelled by the prospect of Easter resurrection joy at the moment.

Hopefully, as you rub along all Lent-like, the Easter joy will dawn on you. Because right now we are in the very thick of it.

Tomorrow is Holy Thursday, already! THE Holy Day of Holy Week (which by the way, used to be called "Great Week".....now we can't call it that anymore since the rampant overuse of the word 'great', as in 'have a great day!'). This is one big deal. On this day Jesus established the priesthood, had dinner with his friends and said good-bye, established the Eucharist, suffered alone, got arrested.....

So tomorrow morning there will be big cathedral Masses where all the priests get together and solemnly celebrate the fact that they have their jobs. The bishop will wash their feet and bless all the oils used for the Sacraments. Confessions will be heard. Very exciting.

In a solemn sort of way.

In the evening we'll all go to Mass (WON'T WE) . We go in the evening because we are celebrating the Last Supper of Jesus and His disciples and they were having their Passover dinner. Too far from the Temple to safely get a kosher lamb for their Passover seder, it wasn't until later that the eleven Apostles realized they had had Lamb after all. Judas wasn't around to realize anything anymore.

At this Mass we strip the altar and the church. We wash everything.

Here's another thing Jesus invented: Spring cleaning. Okay, he didn't invent it himself (although he did thoroughly clean out Limbo). But the tradition of spring cleaning started because of the Catholic church getting ready for Easter. (Hence my haste to answer questions today! I have to find our Murphy's Oil Soap coupons! As soon as Sister Mary Fiacre wakes up from her nap, we're outta here.)

We stop ringing bells after the Consecration at that Mass and we don't ring them again Easter. We stay up all night with the Blessed Sacrament to make up for the dozing disciples.

We've already covered what happens on Friday.

I should think, anonymous, that you would at least feel a little relief to have all your hard work pay off. Your Lenten sacrifice, the fasting, the contemplation.....you have to at least feel content to eat deviled eggs and ham and some chocolate in your nice clean house with your nice clean soul. Perhaps you were just rubbing along without applying any elbow grease.

Something is definitely missing. I'm thinking: gratitude. On Easter Sunday wear a new hat and make a list of all the things for which you are grateful. Not ten things...one hundred things. Eat a chocolate egg after each ten things. Have a delicious dinner when you're done.

If you don't feel a little more Easter-y, it may be time to see your doctor.

Good God Friday

My goodness! I thought I was delirious talking about Abe Lincoln and Good Friday, but it seems it has opened the door to a lot of questions about Good Friday. I should answer them or my name will be Mudd.

Dan E wants to know why it's called "Good" Friday.

No one knows. It's called a few different things. In Germany, for example, it's called 'Mourning Friday". It could be called Good Friday for the same reason we say 'Good-bye', which is just short hand for "God be with ye"; Good Friday could have been called 'God Friday'. My guess is that it's called "Good" because it was a good thing that it happened.

Kevin writes:
I am new to the faith, and I was wondering, why wouldn't President Lincoln have gone to the theater that Good Friday if he was Catholic?
Certainly, I understand the somberness of the holy day of our Lord's crucifixion, but is it objectionable to enjoy the evening with friends and family?

You are new aren't you! There is no end to the things Lincoln could have been doing on Good Friday if he was a good Catholic. Here's what Catholics are doing this week: we're walking with Jesus on His final path. It's quite a path.

On Thursday night after dinner, Jesus' life takes a turn for the worse. Knowing what's coming, He begs His friends to help Him through it, but they are sleepy from their big Passover dinner and all that wine and they all doze off. He begs God to let Him off the hook, but knows that His Father's Will must be done. He is arrested. His friends wake up long enough to run away in a panic. Only one of them and the girls come near Him again until His return from Hell.

He spends the night being hauled back and forth between the Romans and the Jewish Sanhedrin, being questioned, mocked, tied up, told off and finally taken off by the Romans to be scourged. Mel Gibson covered this part very well in surround sound and slow motion.

If you still feel like an relaxing evening with friends, perhaps you've lost track of what happens next, but if you are walking the path of Jesus this also involves someone asking the whole town if they would rather let you go....as you stand before them with a crown of thorns jammed onto your head, a bloody mess from your scourging....or the local three-teeth-no-neck-mouth-
breather-petty-thief, Barrabas. They pick the mouth breather. Your friends are busy pretending they don't know you.

At this point you no longer have to be on your own to contemplate the final hours of Jesus. You can walk the Stations of the Cross. You can observe "The Three Hours" by going to a church with a "The Three Hours" service between noon and 3pm or you can observe them at home by keeping silence and turning off your TV.

In the evening you can show up at church for the Good Friday Mass, which is called Mass but is not a Mass because the host is not consecrated during the service. (It's consecrated the day before on Holy Thursday. It's called "Holy" Thursday because it's really Holy although I'll admit it's a tad redundant because it happens during Holy Week.)

When you arrive at church you'll notice right away that things are grim. The altar is stripped, there are no decorations, no music (what a relief!). What Lincoln could have been doing instead of being shot in the back of the head would have been to kiss the foot of a giant crucifix that is slowly unveiled. Everyone kisses the feet of Jesus. Even germaphobes. There is a procession. Lincoln would have been able to hear no less than three priests reading the story of the Passion, instead of the light comedy, "Our American Cousin."

There is just nothing about observing Good Friday that calls for a toast or a juicy steak or a pinata or whatever you just got in from Netflix, or an evening seeing "Our American Cousin" or "Wicked". In fact, eating a juicy steak, unless you have a note from your doctor, is a sin of disobedience.

We have more questions but let's stop here for now. By the way Kevin, how is LeBron James doing? I gave up basketball for Lent.

Another Good Friday

Well, here we are in the home stretch, awaiting the grande finale. It's Holy Week. This week we contemplate as we walk with Jesus in His final days.

Not really final, though, as it turned out.

I've been reading about Abrahan Lincoln again. I have never been able to determine what made me into a Lincoln fanatic, but I can't get enough of reading about Honest Abe....although I'm not sure how honest he really was. He was a great manipulator. But then he was rather honest about that.

The book I'm reading, "Manhunt", is actually about the 12 day search for John Wilkes Booth and his conspirators, so it covers not only the final days of Lincoln, but also the final days of the famous handsome actor.

Like Jesus on Palm Sunday, Lincoln was having a happy time just before his assassination. The war was over, he was newly inaugurated, he had some free time to spend with his wife and he was off to see a play. He gave a happy speech to a hopeful nation from a window in the White House because everyone loved him so much they yelled for him to come out and say a few words.

Unfortunately, Mr. Booth heard the speech in which Mr. Lincoln mentioned that he was feeling so good that he might just grant citizenship to the Negroes. Mr. Booth, who had planned to kidnap Mr. Lincoln while the war was still on, had abandoned his hair brained scheme because the war had ended and all was lost. The speech put him right over the edge. Worse than you feel when people insist on burying St. Joseph upside down to sell their house.

Not that there was anything he could do about it. That is, until the morning of April 14th when he stopped by Ford's theater to pick up his mail. He just happened to overhear that the Lincolns would be attending the play that night.

April 14th, 1865 was Good Friday.

Poor Mr. Lincoln. Had he been a Catholic he wouldn't have been at the theater on Good Friday and he might still be with us.

He probably is still with us. Abe Lincoln's funeral lasted for weeks because his body was sent by train from Washington to Springfield Illinois. The train stopped everywhere so a grieving nation could pay tribute. As a result, the Great Emancipator was embalmed over and over again.

Anyhow, whenever I read about the final days before a tragedy, I am always struck by the little things that could have been, things that would have averted the whole mess. If only Lincoln had been Catholic. If only he had leaned over the railing of his theater box an inch more, Booth would have missed. If only Mr. Booth had skipped picking up his mail that day....

As a child I always felt the same way about the last days of Christ. I wished Jesus and Mr. Lincoln had each died a peaceful death as an old, old man. I thought Jesus could have just gone ahead and risen after that. Why not? Well, we know why not.

I think I might be delirious from fasting. At least I didn't throw Jesus into the Lincoln/Kennedy assassination comparison. Both Lincoln and Jesus died on Good Friday. Both were Great Emancipators....I better have some lunch.