The Church, The Pedophiles, and the Filipino Party Tree

When I stepped onto the treadmill Monday morning the guy jogging next to me made some small talk, like people do whilst on treadmills.  “How was your weekend?” He asked.    

    

“Really good, actually!” I said.  “A friend of mine was ordained a Roman Catholic Priest up in Atlanta, so I went up and celebrated with him and some of my other friends.  It was really awesome.”

“Oh that’s cool!”

“Yeah!”  

“Did you tell him to stay away from little boys?”  

Stunned and deadpan.  “No.  I didn’t.”

...

I’ve recently been reading some CNN.com articles in a convenient effort to keep up with current events (Definitely open to other suggestions).  The Vatican has been making several appearances lately, what with Obama’s healthcare mandates, the leaky butler, and the renegade nuns (oxymoron) going back and forth with the Pope.  CNN’s rhetorically slanted coverage of these issues is frustrating enough, but then, for some reason I am always compelled to read the responses at the end.  Every single time, no matter what the issue is that’s being reported about the Catholic Church, more than one person makes a comment bringing it back to the pedophile priest scandals, and more than one other person makes a comment along the lines of, “Give it up, already...  The Catholic Church isn’t working anymore...  Nobody trusts the Vatican...  It’s time to hang it up...”  And my personal favorite of these comments: “You’ve had your time.  We call it ‘the Dark Ages’.” 

...

One particularly hot, summer day back in the 80’s, when I was about 5 years old, my Grandmother took me to this Filipino party somewhere out in the country.  Sometime after she had me stand on top of a table and sing a Whitney Houston song for everyone on the Karaoke machine, as per the usual, I went outside to find some other children to play with.  Usually at these Filipino parties there would be a bunch of children running around together somewhere, but here I didn’t see them right away.  (Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a story about a pedophile.  It’s going to be about a tree).  Then, several yards away, I saw a couple of little kids run off and disappear into the leaves of this giant tree in the middle of a field.  (See?  I told you.)  I don’t know what kind of tree it was, maybe an oak, or a maple... I wasn’t really aware of these kinds of details at the age of 5, but it was huge, and dense, and it had branches all the way down to the ground.  After I saw a couple more children run across the field and disappear into the tree, I decided to head towards it and check the tree out for myself.

    

The closer I got to the tree, the bigger it seemed to become.  As I approached, the tree appeared animated and alive with voices and laughter; leaves rustling around in random places all over.  I was timid and a bit apprehensive, but entirely drawn and curious.  So I went in.     

When I crossed the threshold of the outer leafy boundary, it was like stepping through a doorway to a different world.  The temperature dropped significantly in the coolness of its shade.  Rays of sparkling light were pouring in through the leaves, twinkling with their rustling movements.  Everywhere I looked, up and around, there were dozens and dozens of other children playing happily on the branches.  It was the kind of climbing tree that children live for.  These branches were so strong, sturdy and close together that we could climb very high and still feel very safe.  There was a boy who was obviously “it”, trying to tag some other children, so I joined right in with a loud squeal. He came after me as I climbed away from him like a little monkey.  We all played for hours in that tree, climbing up and down and around, talking, exploring, having our own little party while the grown-ups did whatever it is that grown-ups do when they get together...  Who cares?      

Now here is where I bring up webworms.  I don’t know about other parts of the U.S., but anyone who’s lived in the Midwest has seen the work of these nasty little things.  They live on the outer branches of trees, and you know they’re present when it looks like some dirty, flavorless cotton candy has attacked a tree branch and they both died in the battle.  Dirty, dead cotton candy on a dead tree branch.  Got it?  It’s actually really gross.  Depending on how many branches are affected, an infestation can make your trees look hideous.    

    

Now, let’s say for a moment that the Filipino party tree had webworms too.  Even though it didn’t in real life, it is not a far stretch of the imagination.  After all, it’s a great tree, which makes it very vulnerable to bugs that eat yummy trees.  Let’s even say that it had so many webworms, it appeared to be dying.  Looking at it from a distance, I would have seen the webworm damage and devastation caused to some of the more visible parts of the branches, and I might have figured the tree itself was sick and in the early stages of decay.  But here is the point: The little moth larvae we call webworms are not the tree itself.  They are the worms; the tree is still the tree.  And it is not going anywhere.  Webworms can’t kill a tree this strong.      

    

Standing outside of the Church and looking at her from a distance, especially with the slanted voices of misinformed skeptics explaining the circumstances in our ears, there is reason to be alarmed and somewhat grossed-out.  I have spent most of my life seeing it from this angle, so I understand.  But now, I have disappeared into the leaves with the other children who play in its expansive shade mixed with sparkling light.  I am currently sitting on a branch with my back resting against its massive trunk.  From this angle, it is not at all what you would have expected from the outside.  The closer we get to the center—which is the real presence of Jesus Christ himself—and the more time we spend observing the world from there, the more we are able to distinguish the Tree itself from the worms and know that they are not one in the same.  As we climb the branches, we learn to trust the strength of the real thing, and stay clear of the flavorless cotton candy-looking stuff.  We observe with curiosity and wonder the markings that tell the story of the Tree’s growth throughout her long history of becoming such a Tree.  Here, wind knocked off a branch.  There, lightening must have struck the side of the trunk many years ago.  Look, an owl must have lived in this hole at some point, or a family of squirrels.  “Tag!  You’re it!”  We grow to love the Tree itself and desire that she be free from the worms that plague her.  There is damage done, and some branches have been ruined, which is a grievous loss.  But it’s not the end of the Tree.  She is very much alive and well.  It is simply a time that requires intense pruning, which, as anyone who knows anything about trees can tell you, will only make her living branches stronger in time.      

    

It’s strange for the children to sometimes hear people observing from the outside refer to their Tree as “That dying webworm tree.”  We know that doesn’t even make sense.  These are only the voices of ones who have no idea just how deep these roots go, how much they have survived already, and the strength of the branches that hold the children up and keep them from being afraid.  The webworms will be done away with in time.  No doubt, more may come, and they will go as well.  But the Tree will remain right where she is, with children playing in her branches until the day has ended and the children are called to go home.  

“...and behold, I am with you always, to the close of the age.”  Matthew 28:20

Catholic Sexy: The HHS Mandate Issue From a Female Catholic Perspective

I was considering writing a blog about this anyway, and then my friend, Roc, posted a status update to Facebook that asked about the issue.  He said:

"I'm still trying to figure out what the church's opposition to contraception is based on. I get the abortion opposition, but I'm stuck on this one.  I think they are just making this up."

I couldn't help but respond all out, pretty much writing a whole blog in reply to his status.  I know when he asks a question, he really wants to know the answer.  I'm sure a lot of people are wondering the same thing, and if not, should be.  There is a lot of misconception and liberal commentary talking about how the Church, run by a bunch of men, is trying to control women and isn't thinking about our health.  So here is some valid perspective I'd like to add to the dialogue.  I skipped over everyone else's responses, but you'll still be able to follow what I'm saying.  Hope it's helpful!  And if it creates even more dialogue, awesome!  Here's what I said:  
  
"Oh, I love this conversation! :-) So rich! For what I am about to say, it's good to keep in mind that I am a woman, and I will officially be a member of the Catholic Church in less than two months. And I chose this after a year of deep studying of the faith. I can totally see why it’s difficult to understand the Catholic Church’s position in this argument, and I admire, Roc, that you are genuinely trying. The only thing is that there is no quick and easy answer. I will try to break it down for you, and it will be long, probably, but know that I am just touching the surface.

The Catholic understanding of sexuality is completely different from mainstream understanding. It is not compartmentalized into our “sex life” but our sexuality, like our spirituality, can be good or bad and is a part of everything we do, expressed in many forms of love and interaction. For example, think of the nun in that other picture you posted. She would be celibate, but still a sexual being as her passions are channelled into deep acts of service and care for the needy, as well as prayer and intimacy with God.

"The act of having sex itself has a specific and beautiful purpose for humanity. The Catholic Church teaches that God designed sex to be both unitive (making man and woman one flesh) and procreative (open to creating life). If either of these elements are missing during the act, then we are making the action something less than what God created it to be. We are actually devaluing something very sacred to become something purely about pleasure. This is why we call it a sin. It sounds like strong language, but anytime we make something less than what God intended it to be... well, that is what the word “sin” means. And it usually has something to do with selfishness, rather than giving yourself entirely to another out of love.

"My husband is almost right. So close, babe! ;-) (My husband had posted a comment, too.)  Every sexual act does not have to have the potential of bearing life (women are only fertile a couple days of the month!), but every act of intercourse should have an openness to life if it should happen. If a couple is at a place in their lives where they don’t believe it’s wise to conceive, then they simply refrain from having sex while the woman is ovulating. That way, every single time the husband and wife come together, they are truly giving each other everything they have and not withholding any part of themselves in the act. This is called “Natural Family Planning” and is practiced widely in the Catholic Church.

"I think it's interesting to note, though, that up until a few decades ago, EVERY Christian community was against contraception. This touches on a fundamental difference between the Catholic Church and other forms of Christianity. Anyway...


"You are absolutely right in that it is not your business or place to tell a woman, that’s not your wife or daughter, what to do. Then again, you are not the head of the world’s largest religious community and no one calls you "Holy Father", expecting you to give them guidance in a world with contradicting and ever-changing views. The Church is not trying to suppress sexuality, or control women. It simply teaches what the Church has always believed to be the truth about human sexuality, regardless of popular opinion and social trends. As a woman in the Church, I feel valued and cared for. My true sexuality feels honored. [Even before becoming Catholic, it has always been my opinion] that manipulating hormones and my body’s natural processes so that I can be more readily available for sex without “consequences” is much more degrading and has nothing to do with women’s health or freedom.

"So, that’s a brief synopsis of where we’re coming from. This is not even that we’re asking others to agree and stop providing health insurance that covers birth control. In this situation, we’re simply asking not to have to provide something we fundamentally do not agree with and goes completely against our world view. Hopefully this helps, and you can at least begin to see how it truly is a valid issue of religious freedom."
  

Beautifully Tacky

I had a moment during Mass yesterday when I was staring up at the high, arched ceiling of the ornate sanctuary trying to decide if I thought it beautiful or tacky (often a fine line) and having the profound and amusing thought/prayer of, "What am I doing in a Catholic Church? ...in Columbus, Georgia? I did not see this coming."

The priest of this particular church is very old and very mumbly. I can understand him about as much as if he were actually performing the mass in Latin. It's a long story, though, of how I came to be kneeling in this old church, with its profound lyrics set to stodgy music, watching the indecipherable Father administer this sacred ritual that is practiced every single day, in churches all over the world, for thousands of years now, essentially the same way every time. I am watching and listening. Open.

I don't know where to start this story, except to say that I am not Catholic. And I have never wanted to be Catholic, not at all. It's safe to say I had a disdain towards it. Still, there I was, by my own free will, looking up at the 103-year-old repainted ceiling and having such a loving exchange with God about how much he knows that I do not, even to the point of knowing what this particular priest was saying, how many other priests were saying the very same thing at that moment, or at other moments, inviting Him to be present in such a tangible way.

I've put off trying to tell this story because it seems exhausting to tell it consecutively. So instead, I've decided not to. It'll likely come out in random order... starting with the present. My husband and I moved to Columbus, Georgia one month ago after being separated for 8 months while he was in military training. He is now a US Army Ranger stationed at Ft. Benning, and I am now a Junior at Columbus State University. He's 30, and I will be in November. We're both a little old for what we're doing, but that is what happens when everything falls apart and you start from scratch in many ways. It is still us, though, married for 8 years now, and for 5 of those years our main source of income was his job as a non-denominiational, Protestant Youth Pastor in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Military was nowhere on our radar for most of our marriage, except in his dreams and my nightmares. I was many things during his time as a youth pastor: a college student, a barista, a Teacher Assistant at a welfare elementary school, a wedding videographer, an editor for TV commercials, an indie film blah blah blah... like I said, many things.

The last few years of our lives have been pivotal, and we are still pivoting in many ways. Most people who know us well know that Josh was a Youth Pastor and now he's an Army Ranger, but there was a time in between that is a little obscure to most, though they know it had something to do with Filmmaking. Perhaps that will be cleared-up here, the more I write. As I find the courage to write it...

Eventually, I decided that the ceiling in the sanctuary was definitely tacky. I figured it was probably prettier before they repainted it, more historic looking. But then I realized that it doesn't matter. What was painted one way once can be repainted again.

I've been to enough masses now to know some of what the priest was saying, even though I couldn't understand his words. When he stretched his arms towards us in a certain way and mumbled at a certain length, I knew that meant, "The peace of God be with you always." So I returned the gesture in unity with everyone present, "...and also with you."