Call and Response

Part of my Lenten sacrifice is to give up secular reading. So I've put aside the George R. R. Martin fantasy series I'm in the middle of in favor of The Confessions of St. Augustine and Stewardship: The Biblical Basis for Living, by Ben Gill. The latter had a particularly thought-provoking section on God's covenant with His people and our responsibilities within it.

In the Bible, we see the word "berit" referring to God's covenants. In every instance it is God who makes the covenant with us. We aren't coming to God with our needs; He is coming to us, knowing what we need and offering consolation and salvation. His offer is unilateral and non-negotiable, but our "yes" cannot be merely a passive response, "Oh, you want to do this for me, God? Okay."

In each particular instance, God's covenants demand an active response. The covenant with Noah is the first time we see "berit" in the Scriptures and as Ben Gill puts it,

When God made a covenant with Noah the latter understood that covenant in terms of an immediate stewardship of the Earth's animal life. ... Noah's existence was devoted to God's command that he act as a steward for the preservation of the animal life God had created. From the very first mention of the concept covenant in the Old Testament, the word is always connected with a stewardship of that which God has given.

God comes to us, in His mercy, offering salvation. Our part of the bargain is to actively worship Him and by that worship, to care for each other and the Earth. The relationship entails a sort of call and response where God comes to us and we, in turn, reach out to Him and then to each other.

When God told Noah of the flood, his response wasn't to build a boat that would house his family and the animals that were his personal property. He built the ark, a massive construction designed to house every single animal; predators and prey, insects, reptiles, even mosquitoes I dare say. Noah's activities were not aimed at self-preservation, they were acts of stewardship for the good of God's creation in obedience to His command.

The proper response to God's covenant, therefore, is stewardship. It is at once entirely natural and entirely proper to respond this way. We were created to give back, and our nature leads us to that inclination providing we understand first and foremost that everything we have is from God. Once that humble acceptance has been reached, the next natural course of action is to make a return to the Lord. It is only when we allow ourselves to become distracted by the lure of worldly possessions and the competition for status in our society that we lose sight of what we are bound, through creation, to accomplish.

It is easy to fool ourselves into thinking that our position or possessions are the work of our own hands. After all, we learned the geometry equations that earned us our high school diploma. We studied the literature and sat for the exams that comprised our university degree. We applied for, solicited and dedicated ourselves to the job that furnishes our weekly paycheck. The sweat of our brow puts food on our table, a roof over our head and clothes on our backs.

We have to look deeper. We have to see farther.

We have to acknowledge the design and grace that put us in the path of the opportunities that led us to where we are. In the language of "berit," God descended to us with the knowledge, ability and opportunity for advancement. Our passive response was to capitalize on it for our own gain.

Now it is time for an active response, for us to make a return to God for what He has done for us. Up and out...up first in thankful appreciation to the God who is so generous, and then out to the rest of creation in responsible stewardship of our leadership role.

Without stewardship, we are not fulfilling God's covenant with us. The call and response is stymied. We are passive recipients, not members of the body of Christ.

Remember what God asks of His house in the parable of the ten gold coins...

So he said, "A nobleman went off to a distant country to obtain the kingship for himself and then to return. He called ten of his servants and gave them ten gold coins and told them, 'Engage in trade with these until I return.' ... But when he returned after obtaining the kingship, he had the servants called, to whom he had given the money, to learn what they had gained by trading. The first came forward and said, Sir, your gold coin has earned ten additional ones.' He replied, 'Well done, good servant! You have been faithful in this very small matter; take charge of ten cities.' Then the second came and reported, 'Your gold coin, sir, has earned five more.' And to his servant too he said, 'You, take charge of Five cities.' Then the other servant came and said, 'Sir, here is your gold coin; I kept it stored away in a handkerchief for I was afraid of you, because you are a demanding person; you take up what you did not lay down and you harvest what you did not plant.' He said to him, 'With your own words I shall condemn you, you wicked servant. You knew I was a demanding person, taking up what I did not lay down and harvesting what I did not plant; why did you not put my money in a bank? Then on my return I would have collected it with interest.' And to those standing by he said, 'Take the gold coin from him and give it to the servant who has ten.' (Luke 19:12-24)

God doesn't want passive self-preservation from us. He wants active, joyful, engagement.

He wants stewardship.

Lenten Joy

Ah, it's Lent! I love Lent. I love that all the world's Catholics are joining together in fasting, prayer and almsgiving. I love the anticipation before Easter, the solemn commemoration of the Passion giving way to the jubilation of the Resurrection.

I love how indelibly Catholic it all is: the communal aspects, emulating Christ's sacrifice, the repentance and symbolism that underlie every part of the season. I am never more proud to be a Catholic than at Lent.

I don't have anything profound to say. Just that I'm very happy right now and eager to do something good for God.

My biggest vice is my inherent laziness. After examining my day with a critical eye, I noticed that after the kids are in bed, my activities for the evening can be summed up as "wasteful sloth." I watch re-runs of TV shows I've seen a hundred times. I surf the web endlessly. I sit on the couch and don't even do anything but sit there. And all this when there are books to be read, rooms to be cleaned, prayers to be said and things to be organized.

So in addition to giving up secular reading, I am determined to spend my time serving God. If I have an hour, it should be spent doing something productive. If, at the end of the day, my Spanish homework is done, the kitchen is clean, my Rosary is said and the husband is occupied, then I can relax. Everything in its proper time.

I also thought I'd post a rice n'beans recipe for Friday nights. Since we are mostly vegetarians, having fish on Fridays would actually be an indulgence for us. So I limit our dinner to a simple meal of rice and beans. I'm extremely fortunate that, as it turns out, this is my husband's favorite meal. Go figure!

Moros y Cristianos

1 lb dried black beans, picked through and washed
1 small onion, halved
4 cloves garlic
2 bay leaves
1/2 green pepper, cored and seeded
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried oregano

SOFRITO
1 T olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 bell pepper, cored seeded and chopped
3 scallions, trimmed and chopped

SEASONINGS
2 T dry white wine
1 T red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp sugar
salt and pepper to taste

In a large, heavy bottomed pot, soak the beans in cold water to cover for 6-8 hours. Drain off the soaking liquid and fill to cover by 3 inches. Add onion, garlic, bay leaves, bell pepper and spices. Bring to a boil and simmer over high heat for 1-2 hours. Add water as necessary to keep the beans submerged. (I do this in a crockpot for 6-8 hours, much easier and foolproof.) Prepare the sofrito: heat oil in saucepan and saute onion, garlic, bell pepper and scallions until soft. Stir into cooked beans along with seasoning ingredients. Simmer over very low heat 20 minutes, until beans are soft and most of the water has been absorbed. (The mixture should be soupy, but not watery.) Serve over rice.

Picture credit.

Industrial Waste

It's Fashion Week in New York right now, and I'm enjoying a love/hate relationship with the whole affair. I love parts of it and hate parts of it and I hate that I love it.

The models in a runway show are usually made up to look like they're half-dead, with hair a bird wouldn't nest in. Their expressions fall somewhere between vapid and predatory, which doesn't exactly inspire me to put on the clothing. Not that I could, considering how much the stuff costs. Or how much skin it usually shows.

When a woman comes down the runway looking like this, I find it easy to sigh at what the whole enterprise has come to, and move on without being affected.

But for the most part, I enjoy looking at the clothing many designers create. This, by Jamil Khansa, is beautiful. I understand other people may disagree; fashion (like art and beauty) is entirely subjective. What one person considers amazing, another person finds urbane, what to one is avant garde is to another garish. From its earliest conception, fashion has taken wild swings from the sublime to the ridiculous. Elizabethan England, anyone?

Despite my interest, I am very uncomfortable with most of what goes on in the world of fashion, especially all the exploitation and self-absorption. This article about the obsession many teens have with designer labels illustrates the problem with how fashion is currently defined. It's not enough to dress nicely in clothing that flatters your figure and is appropriate for the occasion. Fashion is now the exclusive property of the world's top 20 designers (Armani, Fendi, Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, Ralph Lauren, Marc Jacobs, etc.)

That's not right, especially considering the prices these dregs command. Want a pair of Roberto Cavalli designer jeans? Blue jeans. Cotton. That'll be $435. But that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's really the accessories -- shoes, handbags, jewelry -- that strain your wallet. I would certainly shell out more money for something of high-quality fabric, handmade and unique, but fashion pricing stems primarily from the designers' name, not their work. And considering the preponderance of discount fashion outlets (Bitten, Forever 21, H&M, Isaac Mizrahi at Target) it's very easy to look great for $50. The question becomes, then: How can you justify spending $5,000? Or even $500?

It makes me wonder if there is any way to support this industry at all without compromising my core values. I think the short answer is: No. But it's not because fashion or style is inherently bad. It's because, like with most other things, it is through industrialization that we as consumers lose our power to affect the standard.

I spend more for organic meat because I believe the food industry is dangerous, wasteful, immoral and unhealthy. I could apply all those labels to the fashion industry as well, and it makes me sad because at its core I think fashion should be art, not industry. Clothing is a form of self-expression -- and why not? What could be more natural than to adorn ourselves in a way that speaks to who we are as people? So much can be learned of a culture just by the way they dress; the colors they wear for certain occasions, the level of ornamentation, the style, flow and fabric of their garments, and certainly the form it takes on the human body.

I don't think there's any dispute that the gown worn by Katherine Parr (or perhaps Lady Jane Grey) is as much art as this painting of her wearing it. Both take tremendous time and talent, both are the privilege of the wealthy, and both speak to what we value as a society. It is very different from modern fashion, but not wholly unlike what Dior or Givenchy can send down a runway.

I'm not of the opinion that anything which doesn't turn our minds toward God should be shunned. We are not all called to aestheticism. Jesus did not walk the world in animal skins like his cousin, John.

But I can't understand how someone can spend $765 on a pair of green snakeskin Manolo Blahnik low-heel slides when you can get stylish, high-quality, fair-trade shoes made from organic, recyclable materials for less than $100.

I think it's all right to indulge yourself occasionally as long as you Take the Poor With You when you do it. It's fine to buy things you love. Just buy responsibly and keep things in perspective. Remember how many people around the world freeze to death in winter because they don't have coats. Or walk barefoot everywhere because they can't afford shoes. Or go hungry so they can buy their kids a school uniform.

Style should come second to soul.

Sigh of Relief

I had an impromptu playdate with a friend from church yesterday. I don't get to see her much because she homeschools her four kids and since our parish is undergoing construction on the main church, we're stuck in the gym for Mass without a cry room. Her kids just aren't at a point where they can be quiet during Mass, so she has been going to another parish and thus, I haven't seen her.

She's wonderful. Very kind, open, faithful and understanding. I've talked with her about every matter that concerns my heart and found her at all times completely sympathetic and helpful. Our parenting styles differ, but I consider her an excellent mother and somewhat of a mentor.

Yesterday she helped me through the difficulties I've been having with my search for "peace." She comforted me with an insight I wanted to share:

God has put these feelings in my heart for a reason. The feelings are good, they are prompting me to holiness and devotion. And as they are good, they have a purpose. God is using them to work on my husband's conversion of heart. I don't need to deny, ignore or change my emotions. I need to offer them up to God in a spirit of hope.

*whew* I almost cried while we were talking. It was a beautiful gift to hear confirmation of my own inclinations from someone whose devotion and knowledge I admire so much. It's hard to find the right kind of fellowship. Even more important than listening, a good friend can both uplift you and guide you. I've been considering going to a spiritual counselor for some time, but I just don't know what I'd do with my kids. Anyone know a place that does spiritual counseling email? I'm in desperate need of someone knowledgeable to help me navigate the challenges I'm encountering with this effort. I haven't had much success going at it all alone.

I need to turn to God and arm my heart with His teachings, His comfort, His way. I'm not sure whether to stop talking about this stuff with my family or to try and discuss my point of view in the confidence that I'm sharing the truth, but right now I'm inclined to silence and independence. I certainly don't want to hide what I'm doing, but if last weekend is any indication, there's nothing to be gained from circular arguments with people who don't have any more insight than I do.

Picture credit.

Letting Go of "Peace"

I had a visit from a friend over the weekend. We did a lot of talking, and I shared part of what I'm doing to try and Take the Poor With me. I shared some of my frustrations with her, my feelings of impatience and the frequent sorrow that comes over me whenever I hear about women in the Congo raped to incontinence, or women in India outsourcing their wombs, and remember that right now, I can do next to nothing to help them.

We had a long conversation about peace. Her contention is that in order to feel peace, I have to truly let go of my desires in this matter. I tried to explain that I have already let go, that my whole self is now dedicated to saving money when I can and working towards the goal my husband has set for us rather than fighting for what I believe to be right or underhandedly giving away all my cash to charity and claiming I spent it on donuts.

But according to her, in order to truly let go, I have to stop wanting it entirely. If I hear a news story and still want to help those people in need, I haven't really let go. If I'm still irritated at the restrictions on our budget, I haven't really let go.

I don't think I need to spend much time telling you that this idea really REALLY bothers me. I do my very best to turn my pain and anguish over to God, that He might do what He wills with it. I am trying as hard as I can to bite my tongue whenever the topic of money comes up and let my husband lead our finances. Does that mean the feelings just vanish? NOT IN THE LEAST.

To me, her definition of "letting go" is really "giving up." How can I have hope unless I'm expecting change? And why would I expect change if it's something I don't want anymore? Since when is erasing the desire for something the answer? I think about Hannah, barren for most of her life, praying so fervently in the Temple that God would grant her a son that Eli thought she was drunk or crazy. How could Hannah simply stop wanting a child? That's the secret to achieving peace...telling yourself over and over again "I don't really want this" until it becomes true?

It sounds entirely wrong to me, but could that be because I'm not really letting go? I admit, I'm still irritated every single time I go to Mass, every time I pray, every time I read/hear God's word. Everything in my faith points to caring for the poor, to tithing, to sacrifice and sacrificial love. I'm constantly reminded of what I want to do and what I can't do.

My friend said that I should just be satisfied with my volunteer work and let everything else be, that I should find peace in submitting my will to that of my husband as God commands.

I don't even know what that would feel like. I know I'm doing the right thing by backing off and praying for God to take over. I completely, wholeheartedly believe in Church teaching and am confident that the decision I've made is the right one. So why don't I feel "peace" about it?

Either her and my definitions of "peace" are at odds, or I'm doing something wrong.

I would appreciate any insights anyone has to offer.

Picture credit.

Unintentional Hiatus

I haven't posted in ages due to a combination of computer issues and Christmas-brain (you know, where everything is gingerbread and baby Jesus and celebrations and the idea of coming up with a post is just more work than you feel up to during a feast!)

But it's also because I haven't had any burning statements to make. I feel like I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for the go-ahead to move forward. Or maybe it's more like I'm under the tutelage of a very exacting ballet master who wants me to perfect the basic positions before I can move on to pointe. This is the boring, humdrum, repetitive part of obedience and it's leaving me a bit flat.

I'd like to say that I'm making good use of this time to read up on stewardship and research the Church's position on giving, tithing, obedience within a marriage and care for the poor, but I'm not. I'd love to say that I'm using it to perfect my skills as a mother so I can more easily adjust to having three (or four) when we finally do adopt, but that's not true either.

Mostly, I feel "meh." Like I'm going through the motions. I don't want to read about stewardship because it just frustrates me to see so clearly what I should be doing when I so obviously can't do it. I don't want to reflect on the sacrifices I'm making because I start to get resentful and wonder if they're ever going to end. I'm always working on motherhood and parenting, but now every failure, every setback, every lost temper and raised voice just illustrates how ill-equipped I am for the challenge of adoption.

It's strange that at the times when I most need to pray, I feel the least desire to. I know that focusing my energies on God, reading His word, and praying for the intercession of Mary and the Saints makes an amazing difference not only in the way I feel, but in what I am capable of achieving. The other day I spent some time nursing the baby and reading "The Art of Catholic Motherhood." I came out of that experience feeling uplifted. So why don't I do more of that? Why is my first inclination whenever I have a moment to do something meaningless and escapist like watch a reality show or surf the blogosphere?

Even planning my weekly menu annoys me. It shouldn't be so difficult for me to keep the weekly bill under $100. People live well on much, much less. So I feel like an idiot when I have to put back the block of cheddar cheese or serve my pasta primavera without sun-dried tomatoes because we can't afford them. I simultaneously resent the sacrifice and mock myself for the resentment. Sun dried tomatoes? Could there be a less essential ingredient to do without? What's worse, part of me feels that it's a pointless torture to even bother with it all. So I save $25 a week...it would take twenty years to match our debt at that rate. The simple fact is that my efforts to save and sacrifice aren't going to get us anywhere close to our goal. We have fixed expenses that comprise the bulk of our spending (mortgage, car payments, insurance, etc.) and outside those expenses we have very little wiggle room to actually save money toward our debt. We'll only achieve our goal through the generosity of others: my husband's bonuses at work, gifts from our parents, etc.

I don't mind being dependent upon others. We've been blessed with loving, giving parents on both sides. Their support does not chafe me. But then I wonder why I bother with anything. If I have no control over our finances, if my husband doesn't care about solidarity with the poor, and if the money I save goes no where, why not just get whatever I want at the grocery store?

More to the point: if these sacrifices don't help me and they don't help the poor, what good are they?

Well, they ARE good, inherently. It is right to sacrifice. Even if it doesn't feel good, even if I find it frustrating and difficult, it's still a good exercise for my soul. That's, to me, the most compelling reason to continue. It's only by action that we can train our minds and bodies to desire what's good for them. As far as helping the poor, well, that's relative. Does my going without sun-dried tomatoes physically feed the poor? No. But if it forces me to think about those who struggle to live within limited means, and if it increases my understanding of others' experiences, then that's better than blithely grabbing the jar off the shelf and tossing it in my basket without a second thought.

I've always tried to live under the axiom "Do what you can." Right now, I can make small sacrifices. I can say my prayers even when I don't feel like it. I can think about the poor. I can be silent when I want to scream "What is wrong with you! This is all total BS!" I can be patient. I can be hopeful. I can trust.

Even if that's all I can do, it's still something.

Backseat Driving in God's Limousine

I had a thought during my nightly Rosary the other night: I'm not letting God work any miracles for me.


I'm reminded of that little poem by Lauretta Burns that I'm sure we've all seen before.

Broken Dreams
by Lauretta Burns
As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because He was my Friend

But instead of leaving Him
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried, "How can You be so slow?"
"My child," He said, "what could I do?
You never let them go."

I thought, too, of St. Therese of the Little Flower. If you haven't read The Story of a Soul please find some time do so. I've never known its match for beauty, and the profound truths of her little way are beyond my ability to translate here. There were two main things I remembered from the book that struck me the other night. I thought first of how deeply and utterly she trusted God. At one point she wrote how elated she was when her father confessor told her she ought to take Communion every day. It had been a strong desire of hers to do so, but she didn't speak of it to anyone or ask to be given permission (I'm not sure why she needed permission; perhaps someone with a better historical understanding of her time or her convent can enlighten me.) She simply let that desire well in her heart and waited for God to grant it. How pure was that trust! To not even ask for something that surely would have been granted her easily, but instead to hope for it and allow God to reveal his glory...It's something I can hardly imagine, Type-A control-freak that I am.

The second thing that came to mind during my meditation was how St. Therese liked to consider herself the bride of Jesus. When a sister of hers married and spoke lovingly of all the little things she did to please her husband, St. Therese vowed that she would not let her sister do more for her earthly husband than she herself would do for God. She took the relationship literally, even amusing herself by writing out an invitation to the reception that celebrated her union with the son of God and the Queen of Heaven, to be held at a time unannounced -- Hold yourselves ready, for we do not know the hour of His coming!

I thought about how I let my husband clean the kitchen for me every night. Some of you might be smirking at that statement, but that's how controlling I am. Early in our marriage I used to look at the job he did -- crumbs on the floor, knives in the sink, tomato sauce on the counter, a precarious tower of hand-washed dishes piled high in the drying rack -- and compose conversations in my head where I taught him how to do it properly. Praise God, the Holy Spirit kept me from saying much at the time, because this kitchen cleaning thing happens to be the number one way Dan shows his love for me. He's not demonstrative, he's not verbal, he doesn't buy gifts and we're kind of busy for quality time together. His love language is acts of service and this is a service he performs every single day. Even when I make him one of my infamous eight pot dinners and he can't even see the sink to get started, he still does it.

If I insisted on doing it my way, I'd be missing out on this gift from my husband. There's a humility in accepting gifts, I've found. It's often not exactly what you'd get yourself, or what you wanted. Sometimes it's a total miss. Sometimes it's better than you could have dreamed of, or so unexpected that the joy of it takes your breath away. Whichever scenario it is, the truly loving giftee will take it, thank the giver with a grateful heart, and use the gift.

I have a coat I hate. My mom bought it for me and it's cherry red, not my style, with a huge, flat collar. I wear it every Christmas because I'm lucky enough to have a loving mother and a nice coat. Who cares if it's not my style?

If I'm trying at every opportunity to win Dan over to my way of thinking on this adoption thing, I'm not letting God do any work. I'm trying to do it myself. I'm not bringing it up, mind you, but whenever he sends me an article that bemoans the difficulty of large families or mentions a conversation with someone who's overwhelmed by their kids' schedule, I yammer on and on about how great I think large families are and how wonderful it would be to have another child and detail all the ways we could make things work if we had more.

Maybe God is looking for an opportunity to do something for me, here.

I should just let Him.