Journeys of a Catholic Poster Girl

It’s almost time for Advent!

Are you ready?
If not, head over to Karen’s and read her Guide to Advent (the No-Panic way!).

“Doing theology as the Church understand it requires the theologian to ‘deepend his own life of faith’ and make prayer an integral part of his or her work. Theology is not only done at one’s desk, or in the library; theology is also done on one’s knees, or in the chapel.”

–George Weigel, God’s Choice

So I have worn the veil to Mass three times since I received it. The first two times were at daily Mass, which are less crowded, and today was the Sunday unveiling (unveiling of the veil…haha!).

The first time I wore it, I felt a bit self-conscious. It also brngs up questions like, when do I put the veil on? When I’m in the church building? Before I enter the sanctuary? In the sanctuary? When I get to my seat? I decided to put it on upon entering the sanctuary. If I’m wearing a coat this can create some issues, because I don’t want it to fall off when I remove my coat, but so far that hasn’t happened. When I leave Mass, I take it off when I’m out of the sanctuary, meaning that if I was going to get doughnuts or whatever post-Mass, the veil would be off.

So I get to my seat, veil in place, and Mass proceeds as usual. It helps me focus, because my peripheral vision is sort of skewed by the veil. My veil is lace, so I can see through it, if I try, but I sort of like the fuzziness on either side of me. It helps me concentrate.

I try not to fiddle with it, but it does have a tendency to slip back on my head so I have to pull it forward sometimes. (I like it right about where bangs would begin.) But no far it has not fallen off, even when I bow or lower my head.

And no, I haven’t received any looks or questions. But at this parish, it’s not uncommon to see girls of about six or seven wearing a small chapel cap or veil, so I’m not really doing anything all that special. At another, less traditional parish, I’m sure I’d get some looks.

So, this is my veil experience thus far. I have found it helps me concentrate (I’m not wildly looking around anymore, because I don’t want the veil to fall off!), which can only be a good thing at Mass.

has arrived.

Tried it on in the mirror, and I think it looks pretty sweet. It doesn’t fall off when I bow or lower my head either, so that’s a good thing!
Hopefully I can make it to Mass tomorrow and give it a first run. I’m excited!

Happy All Saints’ Day, friends. Don’t you love this feast?
I do–as a kid I always thought it was weird to be juxtaposed with halloween (sacred and profane, and all that), but as I grew older and realized how important the saints are to us, and how close they are, I’ve really grown to love this feast.

Here are the three saints I’m celebrating this year:

St. Therese of the Child Jesus, as always. She was the saint I chose at my confirmation, and the more I learn about here, the more I fall in love with her. She’s the most popular saint of modern times for a reason. If you’re looking for a good book on her, I recommend this one.  And there’s the movie!

St. Francis is the saint I have been studying this year. I got the idea from “Around the Year With the Von Trapp Family” to pick a saint every first Sunday of Advent that you will study during the year. I chose St. Francis since, at that time, I was applying to Franciscan University and wanted to learn more about St. Francis and the order he founded. This book is a good introduction, and this movie (also featuring St. Clare) is fantastic. (Also, in my family, my grandfather’s name is Francis, and it is my brother’s middle name.)

And finally, St. Dominic, whom, as we know from here, I have been studying. Right now I don’t have any books or movies to recomment, except–say the rosary! This great gift was given by Mary to St. Dominic, and is such a powerful prayer.

In addition to these, there is also St. Emily and St. Michael the Archangel, who are my name saints (Michele is my mom’s name, and my middle name.)

What about you? Who are your special saints?

So…I just ordered a chapel veil.

I’m 27, which means I am a post-Vatican II baby. I never heard Mass in Latin, and the only time my head was covered in church was for my first communion.

But I’ve seen a lot of women veiling lately–of all ages. And I’m a really girly girl. I like anything lacy and pretty.

So when I was at a new church this week, and saw veiled women, I started searching the internet for things on veiling.

Wow. There’s a lot out there.

This is the one I purchased. And I also purchased this to keep it in. (Course you can’t get it now, because I got the last one–ha!–but I think she’s planning on making more.)

Next week will probably be the first time I try this out at Mass. Hopefully it goes OK–as in, stays on.

What do y’all think about veiling? Have you ever wanted to try it? (If you’re a girl) Do you see folks do it?

Talking about new religious avenues for myself over here.

It isn’t often that TV shows lead to deep theological discussion, but last night’s episode of House, M.D. provided that for several of my friends and I. The topic? The sacrament of Confession.

Probably no other sacrament is as misunderstood among non-Catholics as this one. So when Dr. Robert Chase entered the confessional to confess the killing of a patient, I was really hoping the show would handle this accurately. (FOX has a pretty good track record for being on-spot with Catholic things—see Agent Booth in Bones.)

The scene, for those of you who didn’t see the episode, essentially went like this: Dr. Chase (who was a former seminarian) enters the confessional (behind the screen, natch), and begins with the standard “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He waits for a few seconds, gathering up the nerve to continue. Then he blurts out that he killed a man (note he doesn’t say patient), but that he knows it was the right thing to do, and thus, doesn’t really feel sorry about it.

The priest tells him that in order to receive absolution, he has to be sorry (this is correct). Chase (who should know better, being a former seminarian and all) asks what he has to do to receive absolution (not forgiveness). He asks if he has to go to the police and turn himself in, even though the man he killed was responsible for the deaths of thousands of other people. The priest says yes. Chase leaves the confessional, unable to reconcile the fact that he has killed a very bad man (someone who was responsible for killings many others, and now can no longer kill), but yet feels this intractable guilt.

(Note: Perhaps the priest would’ve reacted differently if Chase said he was a doctor who killed a patient. But I’m not sure. I think Chase was thinking more in terms of deliberate killing, or murder, than malpractice.)

So that’s the set-up. After the episode, a few of my friends and I were tossing around our thoughts on Facebook.  Among my Catholic friends, the questions were more, “Would a priest really react that way?” (For the record—I didn’t think it was too far-fetched. He can’t give absolution if the person isn’t sorry. Being sorry is a required for valid confession.)

Among my Protestant friends, the questions were (understandably) different. Mostly, they involved two points: one, why does Chase even go to confession, since priests don’t forgive sins—God does, (corollary—and anyway, how can the priest deny forgiveness?) and, two, no amount of penance (the priest had made a reference to saying Hail Marys) can “earn” forgiveness from God. He just gives it.

I responded to these concerns with the following (in a more concise way, since this was, after all, Facebook):

1) A priest cannot give absolution if the person isn’t sorry—being sorry is an important part of the confession. In the Act of Contrition, you essentially say (wording varies depending on your version of choice) that what you did is wrong, that you’re sorry you did it, and you’re (going to try) not to do it again. Chase isn’t sorry, therefore he can’t, in good conscience, say the Act of Contrition. Therefore, the priest cannot give a valid absolution.

2) A penance is our part of the bargain here, and is derived from the Jewish custom of sacrifice, depending on the size of the person’s sin (see Dr. Scott Hahn’s book Lord, Have Mercy for a lot more on this idea). The process of forgiveness/atonement requires that we do something in reparation. It is an active sacrament. Sometimes, yes, the penance is a rosary. Sometimes it’s doing a good deed. I once had a priest tell me (in my younger days) to hug my mom. But the idea is that the penance helps you avoid the temptation to sin again. And you have made reparations—you have done your part to repair whatever damage, visible or invisible, that you have done.

3) Some Biblical basis for Confession can be found in John 20:28, and Matthew 16:18, where Jesus tells the disciples that “whatever [they] bind on Earth shall be bound in Heaven, and whatever [they] loose on Earth shall be loosed in Heaven.” (This was in reply to the idea that Confession is a man-made invention and not instituted by Christ.)

Confession is probably the most misunderstood sacrament the Church has. If you’re not Catholic, it can easily seem mysterious and sort of out there. And let me tell you, it’s a whole lot easier to mumble through the occasional Confiteor at Mass than it is to go into the confessional and tell the priest what you, yourself, have done wrong in the past week, month, year. Mumbling through prayers with the rest of the congregation sort of absolves your sense of responsibility. You’re not telling everyone what you did. In the confessional, you have to. That’s what you’re there for, and that’s what the priest is there for—to hear the sins, to council you, to give you God’s forgiveness.

I got an A on my first Biblical Studies Assignment!

That is all.

Today is the feast day of St. Therese of Lisieux.

She’s one of the most popular saints of modern times, and I chose her as my confirmation saint back in ‘96. She has been a constant source of inspiration and comfort for me since then.

Check out the “saints” archives for more on her, including books and movies.