The sound of one hand clapping

In his marvelous book The Joys of Yiddish, the late Leo Rosten tells a joke about Josef Goebbels demanding that a rabbi teach him about Talmud. The rabbi runs him through a test given to children before they go to yeshiva to see if they can understand Talmud. The test consists of the same question asked three times: “Two men fall through a chimney. One comes out clean, and the other comes out dirty. Which one washes?”

The first answer is that the clean one washes, because he sees the dirty one and believes he came out dirty too. The second answer is that the dirty one washes, because the dirty one looks at the clean one, then looks at himself and realizes he didn’t come out clean. The third answer “is that this is a silly question. How can two men fall through a chimney and only one come out dirty? Anyone who doesn’t understand that will never understand Talmud.”

This story came to my mind while reading William Saletan’s post “Half Aborted”, a think piece on “reductions”. I’ve written before about the cognitive dissonance now making its way through the pro-abortion ranks, the reluctantly growing realization of the moral wrong even as they maintain the necessity of the legal right. “Half Aborted” not only confirms the dissonance but confronts head-on pro-abortion rationalizations about the life and humanity of the unborn.

Pedophilia: the one boundary progressives can’t push?

She looks out from the picture with hazel eyes, buttered blonde hair falling from her scalp in the kind of artful disarray only an expensive stylist could manage, her carefully painted lips pouting over her naked shoulder. Her name is Thylane Blondeau, the daughter of soccer player Patrick Blondeau and fashion designer Véronika Loubry, and she is an up-and-coming fashion model.

And she’s only ten years old.

Certainly she’s not the first young girl ever exploited by the fashion industry in this manner. I’m old enough to remember the ruckus raised by the risqué advertisement shot of 15-year-old Brooke Shields wearing Calvin Klein jeans. (This was the same year her first teen sexploitation film The Blue Lagoon was released … an ephebophile fantasy flick if ever there was one.) At the top levels of the industry, the fashion world makes its money by objectifying women; it would be expecting too much to believe they wouldn’t turn a child into a sex object … especially not if the designers and photographers can convince themselves they’re being daring and original by doing so.

Apologetics toolbox: Assumption of Mary

I'd intended to get this out much earlier; however, yesterday was hectic beyond belief. My apologies to one and all.

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Yesterday, August 15th, we celebrated the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a holy day of obligation.[1] In the Eastern tradition, it's also known as the Dormition (Latinization of the Greek Koímēsis, "falling asleep") of the Theotókos ("God-bearer").

Both the Eastern and Latin traditions hold that Mary was taken bodily into heaven, in the same manner as had her Son. The Eastern tradition maintains that she died and was resurrected on earth before the assumption; the Latin tradition leaves it an open question. Certainly, when Ven. Pius XII promulgated the apostolic constitution Munificentissimus Deus on November 1, 1950, he didn't insist that the Blessed Mother remained alive right up to that point; in fact, he alluded to her death several times.

However, like many Marian teachings, Protestants, especially Evangelicals, hold that because the Assumption isn't spoken of in Scripture it must not be a doctrine requiring Christian assent, let alone faith. Now, we've already spoken of the many problems inherent in sola scriptura; if you need reminding, then start with Part I. Suffice it for now to say that authority within the Catholic Church is a three-legged stool, resting not only on Scripture but also from the apostolic tradition and the teaching magisterium of the Church, which reconciles the other two.

Unanswered prayers and unwanted gifts

This is a difficult post for me to write because it deals with prayer, and prayer is the least consistent aspect of my spiritual life.

Then why write about it? Because I read Dr. Randall Smith’s excellent comments on the intercessory prayers of the faithful that take place at the end of the Liturgy of the Word in a Catholic Mass. For the substance of his remarks, please follow the link; suffice it to say that many of these “intentions” aren’t directed at God so much as they are at the faithful, and that many of these “intentions” are prayed for only so long as they’re hot news items.

Among the combox entries was one from “Grump”, who was apparently trying to dig a rabbit hole:

As one whose prayers have never gotten higher than the ceiling in 40+ years of making requests and asking for help for myself and others, I am reminded by [sic] Kierkegaard’s comment about prayer: “Prayer doesn’t change God, but it changes us.” Which in my case is true since it has made me an unbeliever.

When Jesus said, “Ask anything in my name and it shall be done” [Jn 14:13-14]. I took Him at His word. I’m still waiting for Him to keep it.

So what do we say to that?

Separation of church and sex

One night, my buddy Larry was driving me home from the house he shared with his then-fiancée, Mary. The two of them were in the early stages of wedding planning; I was to wear two hats — music coordinator and best man. As part of the process, to satisfy Mary’s parents, they were also going through the archdiocesan wedding preparation classes so the marriage could be blessed by the Catholic Church.

Larry, a generic Methodist, was grumbling about the unnecessary megillah (as he saw it) of taking the classes; although I was veering towards liberalism, I tried to play devil’s advocate. Finally, he stated, “I just don’t believe priests can say anything useful to me about marriage.” I asked why not.

He glanced at me in surprise, and barked, “Because I can f***!”

After a moment to swallow my irritation, I decided to paraphrase a riposte made by John Randolph when ridiculed for his impotence. “Congratulations; you’ve just declared yourself the equal of every dog and jackass in the world.”

After almost twenty years’ reflection, I’ve decided that the reason so many people — men more than women, I would hazard a guess — take such silly, inordinate pride over a successful conquest is because we’re not like other animals. With animals, pheromones and cerebral cortices take over; consent is rarely an issue, though male dogs and cats have been known to rape neuters. But a human can say no … worse, s/he can laugh derisively.

But for Wales, Father Bourgeois?

On April 10, I wrote an open letter to Fr. Roy Bourgeois of the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers. This was in refutation of a letter Fr. Bourgeois had written to his superior general, Fr. Edward M. Dougherty, published openly on the Women’s Ordination Conference website.

To give a little more background: Fr. Bourgeois, an open supporter of women’s ordination, has been a thorn in Maryknoll’s paw for a couple of years. In 2008, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith sent Maryknoll a letter advising them that Fr. Bourgeois’ opposition had incurred excommunication latae sententiae (that is, by the fact of the delict’s commission, somewhat comparable to a mandatory sentence) reserved to the Holy See. Since then, Maryknoll has warned Fr. Bourgeois at least twice that his refusal to recant would lead to his dismissal from the order.

On July 27, 2011, Fr. Dougherty sent Fr. Bourgeois a second canonical warning: if the latter did not recant within fifteen days, the superior general would start the dismissal proceedings [H/T Deacon Greg Kandra]. And yesterday Fr. Bourgeois sent back his own letter indicating his final Non serviam:

What you are asking me to do in your letter is not possible without betraying my conscience. In essence, you are telling me to lie and say I do not believe that God calls both men and women to the priesthood. This I cannot do, therefore I will not recant.

Some thoughts on Mass improvisations

Auxiliary Bishop Chris Coyne of Indianapolis had an interesting story yesterday about "Why I Didn't Go to Confession Today". While, to do the full story justice, you should read his account of the matter let me give you a précis of it:

It seems Bp. Coyne had need of an early morning Saturday Mass, but couldn't find one until late Friday night, when it was too late to make arrangements to concelebrate it. So he went as an attendant; whether he went in his episcopal robes or in mufti he doesn't say.

When Mass began, the priest, a guy about my age, came out and said, "Hello," and then proceeded with the Mass. The only problem was he had forgotten the Sign of the Cross. Well, maybe he was just a little distracted. I think we did the penitential rite but I'm not sure. There was no "Gloria" so I was beginning to think we weren't going to be celebrating the Feast of the Transfiguration since it hadn't been mentioned yet but eventually we got there when he "prayed" a spontaneous opening prayer that did mention the Transfiguration.

And it didn't get any better after that. Though Bp. Coyne conceded the validity of the celebration, he decided, for both his sake and that of the offending priest, not to have his confession heard by "Father X".

Dog day afternoons

How can you tell I have writer's block?

Simple: I post other people's poetry on The Impractical Catholic instead of writing something myself. (But, hey, at least it was T. S. Eliot; I would have really deserved your rotten tomatoes if I'd posted any of Jewel Kilcher's stuff.

During the summer, it seems everything wilts from the heat. Even the doomsday claims that have arisen in the wake of the debt-ceiling deal and the downgrading of the government's credit rating seem perfunctory: "Okay, we've made the necessary noises. Now let's go take a nap someplace air-conditioned."

In the afternoons, Bob (my invalid younger brother whom I take care of) usually takes a nap. This normally affords me three or four hours in which to compose my thoughts without fear of interruption. The last couple of days, though, a couple of those hours have been spent idly surfing the web for sources to je ne sais quoi, followed by an indefinite period of unconsciousness in my naugahyde captain's chair, as the day's heat finally sinks through the valiant efforts of AC and ceiling fan to entice me into the arms of Morpheus.

Not good for productivity.

So here's my apology and my assurance that I will eventually think of something to write ....

Of boxerjocks and jolly people

The last couple of days, in despair of the diminishing number of loincloths in my drawer without evidence of shoddy workmanship, I’ve gone to Wal-Mart to replenish my stock. (Tommy Hilfiger underwear does something I’ve never seen skivvies do: the panels separate from the waistband.) O the joy to find sales of four, five and even seven pairs of Hanes per bag for only $9.47!

(Obiter dictum: Boxerjocks are one of the best developments in male clothing of the last twenty years.)

The downside, of course, is that there’s ordinarily one or two bags in a size that won’t have me singing male soprano. Nevertheless, I bought one bag on Tuesday and another yesterday. I’m still puzzled why anyone would need boxerjocks in a camouflage pattern — who goes hunting in their underwear? — but I wasn’t prepared to complain so long as they fit.

I also wasn’t prepared to pay $11.46 a bag. I let the matter go Tuesday because I was short on time. Wednesday, however, I confronted the checker on the discrepancy between the advertised price and the register price. She took one look at the bag and said, with a sheepish grin, “Ah. It’s the size.”

Ah, yes. The “fat-ass tax”. That’s the extra markup clothing manufacturers and retailers assess on obese people rather than averaging the extra cost of material out over the rest of the sizing bell curve.

God is not a comic-book superhero

Because Jennifer Fulweiler converted to Catholicism from atheism, her blog attracts quite a few atheists … especially since, at one point, P. Z. Myers made her post “5 Catholic Teachings That Make Sense to Atheists” the focus of his anti-Christian rage.

On July 22, Fulweiler asked a pair of related questions that spun off into a reflection on abortion in her post “When the Best Place to be Born is the Worst Place to be Conceived”. Naturally, such a post begs for trolls and drive-by harangues, though at the time of this writing the comments are all relatively calm and thoughtful.

At least until “ac” showed up:

Abortions are not ideal and can affect a woman deeply but then I know of four that were thrown into depression by the miscarriage of a foetus at around 5 months. That’s God’s will is it?  I also know several women who would have died in childbirth without modern medical practice. God’s will again?

Someone has already mention the high rate of miscarriages, but there is also the high rate of maternal deaths that would occur without medical help, and in too many parts of the world does occur. This is God’s love in action? …

So, I return to a question I asked in another thread: In what way does God make life better for the people of Malawi, say?