bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • 27 weeks. BELIEVE IT… OR NOT.

    Yesterday we paused on the way out of Mass to say hi to Father because Oscar had brought a rosary to be blessed.   Fr. D_____ blessed the rosary and then looked up at me with a smile and asked "How soon?"

    It always takes me a minute to figure that out before I remember that I’m really, really obviously pregnant.  "Oh, um, I’ve got three months left, actually."

    Genuine shock.  "No!  No way!"

    Here’s me in the bathroom mirror, today, at 27Blog_033  weeks:
    I Googled images of "27 weeks" to see how typical I am, since I feel really, really huge.  Look for yourself — there’s an amazing range, really.

    This woman, for example,  is actually made of plastic.  (Warning:  Normal, non-plastic people should not click here, and should not read the part where she writes about how she’s got to do some "serious sit-ups" because she’s still 10 pounds over her pre-pregnancy weight, which is apparently 43 lbs.,  at 7 weeks postpartum.  But her baby’s cute, to give her credit.)

    All joking aside, I’m not actually worried about my pregnancy weight gain, even though it’s on the high side by the numbers.  This is the third time, and both previous pregnancies I gained more than fifty pounds and made it back to the pre-pregnancy weight by the time baby was four or five months old.  So I’m assuming this is okay for me.


  • A glossary of Christian terms.

    Worth a few laughs, or at least a chuckle of admiration:

    Baptism
    Baptists are Christians who believe God can only be accessed by means of a swimming pool or, in some cases, a shallow outdoor stream. The first Baptist was John the Baptist, who was said to eat locusts and honey, although contemporary Baptists generally prefer barbecue.

    Sex
    Christians are not permitted to have sex. This unpopular doctrine was formulated by Pope Lactose LX at the Council of Disney in 1439. Despite this restriction, Christians have managed to increase their ranks to the point where there are roughly 2 billion of them. Scholars attribute this to the competitive health benefits and generous "flex time"
    arrangements offered by Christianity.

    Via Eve Tushnet.


  • Random link of the day.

    Ann Althouse on public accommodations for "emotional needs support animals:"

    What about the emotional needs created by finding that you’re seated in coach next to a small horse and a person who’s emotionally impaired enough to need a small horse and anti-social enough to impose it on you and shameless enough to exploit a law intended to help the disabled? Can I have a monkey to help me with that?

    No reason, I just liked the punch line.


  • Happy Mother’s Day to you too, lady.

    I have two sons — just two, so I’m only marginally experienced at this motherhood gig — ages 5 and 2.  I take my boys to Mass every Sunday. Like many other Catholic parents, and as is the norm in Catholic churches, I prefer that they, and I with them, remain in the pews during Mass.

    It’s easy with my five-year-old; by now, he knows how to behave and rarely requires correction other than a reminder to sit, stand, or kneel.   The younger one can be tricky.  If he squirms or drops a book noisily or points to the crucifix and yells, "There’s Jesus!"  I’m usually able to hush him in situ within a few seconds, whispering in his ear and pointing out various interesting things to look at. On principle, I always try, at least for a few moments, to settle him down where we are.  I prefer to leave only if he becomes disruptive and only as long as I need to, returning promptly to the pew once he settles down.  I’m willing to do this several times during a Mass if I have to.  How’s he going to learn if I spend the whole time in the nursery, watching Mass on closed-circuit TV while he and six other children play with Legos?

    We moms realize that the people around us don’t want to be disturbed (that’s one of the things I’m whispering into those little ears).  Still, it’s not as simple as "just leave."  Even the goal of minimizing disturbance to others requires constant evaluation of a specific dilemma: Which is going to be more disruptive to the people around me, spending a few more seconds trying to distract this little guy here in the pew, or hustling him AND his big brother AND my pregnant belly AND all our stuff out into the aisle and to the back?

    I think that most people in most parishes understand this.  In our parish especially, with its many large families.  So it’s not surprising that I can count on my fingers — maybe even on just one hand — the times when someone has either commented to me on, or glared pointedly at me because of,  my very young (<3yo) children’s "misbehavior" or noisiness.  You know:

    Can’t you WHISPER, please?

    or

    You know, they DO have some chairs in the back for when he misbehaves.

    Stuff like that.   Doesn’t happen often.  Nevertheless, there’s a pattern:

    No one has ever commented to me or my husband about my children’s misbehavior when my husband was with us.

    At least five times in five years, when I have attended Mass with a young child but without my husband, I have received negative comments or glares regarding my child’s misbehavior or my breastfeeding him.

    Isn’t that interesting?

    Without any further data, the obvious explanation would be that my kids are prone to worse behavior when their Dad isn’t around. Maybe my husband is a more effective disciplinarian.  Maybe they think that with me, they can get away with more. 

    But I don’t think that’s it.  I might, if I were discussing my older son’s behavior right now.  He’s five and would be capable of that kind of calculation, and he also knows how to behave by now.  But I’m talking about my 2-year-old, and my older son when he was a toddler.  Kids too young to have much self-control or even to have learned the etiquette yet.   And I’m pretty vigilant about their behavior in church (I have to be — see the second paragraph).  I’m confident that my toddlers aren’t systematically better-behaved when my husband is there with me.

    So what’s up?

    I’d like to impute charitable motives, but I can’t figure out any way that it is MORE charitable to reprimand a woman struggling to parent by herself than a woman who’s got her husband there to help her.  And I don’t, for example, notice a lot more people offering sympathetic "I’ve been there" smiles when I’m alone with my children.  I don’t hear more kind words or complements or even a knowing, "You’ve got your hands full," or even an offer when I arrive — "You look like someone who would appreciate an aisle seat — do you want me to scoot over?"   

    (And no, "We DO have a nursery, you know" isn’t a helpful offer.  It’s a reprimand disguised as a helpful offer.  Not sure?  Practice saying it out loud and see how it sounds.)

    So I always am left wondering:  Are these women (it’s always been older women) subconsciously trying to punish me for looking — somewhat — like a single mother?

    Or do they silently respect my husband’s authority in a way they don’t respect mine?   Does the same behavior that merits reprimanding a mother alone, become acceptable if a father is there radiating his tacit approval? 

    Or is the message simply, "You shouldn’t have come here and sat where you did, because you should have known you’d be unable to control them by yourself?"

    I’m not sure.  I can’t read their minds.  I do know that my husband approves of and supports the way I mother my children in public, which is not very different from most of the other families in our parish, I might add.  He’s glad, not ashamed, that I’m still able to breastfeed my two-year-old discreetly in the pew, especially since it’s such a sure-fire way to stop a meltdown in its tracks.  He, like me, strives to teach by example, which means staying in the pews as much as we can.   I think it must be obvious to bystanders that he has confidence in me.  It’s certainly obvious to ME.   So maybe it’s not just that I have A Man By My Side.  Maybe that confidence is contagious. 

    And maybe when I’m there with my two kids and my big belly, wondering how on earth I’ll carry the toddler out if he has a rare, real meltdown —  maybe they can smell fear.


  • The 2005 Baby Name Rankings are out.

    This is, of course, of capital importance to me, since I’m having a baby in August.

    In what has become a Mother’s Day tradition, Jo Anne Barnhart, Commissioner of Social Security, today announced the top baby names in the United States for 2005.

    “Based on all Social Security card applications for children born last year, Emily and Jacob are the most popular baby names for the seventh year in a row,” said Commissioner Barnhart.

    Well?  Don’t you want to know what they are?

    Boys:

    1. Jacob
    2. Michael
    3. Joshua
    4. Matthew
    5. Ethan
    6. Andrew
    7. Daniel
    8. Anthony
    9. Christopher
    10. Joseph

    BOOOOOOOOR-ING.

    Girls, a little better:

    1. Emily
    2. Emma
    3. Madison
    4. Abigail
    5. Olivia
    6. Isabella
    7. Hannah
    8. Samantha
    9. Ava
    10. Ashley

    This is really only nine names, as everyone knows that Emma and Emily are the same person.  I have to admit that I’m impressed by the performance of Ava, if a little disappointed, because I’m pretty sure that Ava (or something that sounds like it) was On The List, and now it has to come off because there is no way I am going to name any kid of mine one of the Top Ten, except maybe as a middle name, and that only if there’s a particularly choice saint’s name among them.

    And what’s up with Ashley?  Doesn’t anyone remember 1982?

    Since I live in Minnesota, it behooves me to check the popularity around here.

    Boys in Minnesota:

    1. Ethan
    2. Jacob
    3. Samuel
    4. Jack
    5. Andrew
    6. Benjamin
    7. Alexander
    8. Joseph
    9. Logan
    10. Tyler

    Boooooor-ing.

    Girls in Minnesota:

    1. Ava (WTF?)
    2. Grace
    3. Emma
    4. Emily
    5. Ella (a.k.a. Emily, a.k.a. Emma)
    6. Olivia
    7. Abigail
    8. Madison
    9. Sophia
    10. Hannah

    This isn’t going to change things much for us, I expect.  I prefer to steer clear of the top 50 male names and the top 100 female names (counting sound-alikes as the same, unlike the Social Security website).  Our sons, so far, are pretty safe:  Oscar’s number 116 (driven, I think, by Spanish-speaking families), and Milo’s number 728. 


  • Tomorrow is May 13th.

    May 13th, 2006 is…


  • Yum.

    The Girl Who Ate Everything attends a chocolate symposium.



  • Breaking news…

    Jimmy Akin is reporting that Fr. Altier and Fr. Weizbacher of St. Agnes parish will be moved to another assignment.

    Seems like it’s little more than a rumor at this point.


  • Exes.

    A lot of people bandy about the term "ex-priest" to describe a man who once received Holy Orders and since has been officially removed from clerical activities — that is, "laicized" (the correct, general, and non-derogatory term) or "defrocked" (a term which implies a punitive laicization). 

    "Ex-priest" is technically not correct in Catholic understanding.  We believe that Holy Orders, like baptism, forms an "indelible mark on the soul" — that a priest validly ordained is a priest forever.  Indeed, priesthood survives death, unlike that other nuptial state of being, matrimony.   So it isn’t surprising that even a laicized priest is bound by some rules that non-priests aren’t.  Jimmy Akin, ever a fount of interesting and detailed tidbits, has the story.

    The restrictions aren’t just about administering the sacraments.  They also cover things like serving in leadership roles in parishes and Catholic universities, and even teaching theology in non-Catholic universities.  One thing I didn’t know about laicization is that, although many of the restrictions are generally applicable, in practice each laicized priest receives an individual, personally tailored list of restrictions

    Also interesting is the fact that being laicized doesn’t automatically release a priest from celibacy — he isn’t automatically free to marry.  It is possible for a laicized priest to receive a dispensation from priestly celibacy, but that appears to be a second, separate decision.


  • The exact same God.

    Dean Esmay fisks a dumb Islamophobic e-mail that’s making the rounds.  It’s a good post; read the whole thing.  I learned some things from it.

    I only have a quibble with one point that Dean made, and I concede that it’s at least partly a subjective point (in that differences of opinion matter to the conclusion).  Several of Dean’s commenters appear to agree with me:

    Muslims believe they worship the same exact God as the Jewish and Christian God. They worship the God of Abraham.

    I disagree that Muslims who have an accurate understanding of both Judaism’s and Christianity’s concept of the divine would believe that they worship "the same exact God" as Jews and Christians do.  I think I have a reasonably accurate understanding of all three, and I would not say that Muslims worship "the same exact God."

    Obviously I don’t mean that there are multiple gods hanging about in the heavens, one worshipped by Muslims, another worshipped by Christians, and more worshipped by other people.   Clearly, every monotheist would agree that there is only one, and if so, then all of us desire to worship the same one, the Only God.   And yet… it’s a circular argument to say that we must be worshipping the same God, by definition, because there can’t be more than one.  I take it as given:   when someone says "they worship the same God that I do" that person must be making more than just a statement of monotheism; that person is saying "their beliefs in God are sufficiently similar to mine."  How similar, then?

    What does it mean, if two people (say, John and Jane) worship "the same exact God?"  I say it means that John and Jane agree on the essential characteristics of the nature of the deity they each worship, and any disagreements they have about the nature of the deity are very minor.  They can, I think, disagree about the actions of the deity, either what they think the deity did in the past or what the deity will do in the future or how the deity will judge some hypothetical action or how the deity interacts with man.  They can disagree about how man should interact with the deity too.  But if John and Jane differ significantly in matters concerning the nature of the deity — what that deity is like — I say they’re not worshipping "the same exact" deity. 

    The rub, of course, is what "significant" means.  Define it too broadly and everyone worships a different god.  Define it too narrowly and there is no difference at all among all the world’s religions — we all worship "the same exact deity," we all always have, from ancient Greeks and Aztecs to modern Hindus and Muslims — and we lose some of the power of language to help us make useful distinctions. 

    In general, the essential characteristics of the Christian God must be identical with those that existed before the creation of the world or any other beings.  Any that didn’t exist before, such as any that have to do with God’s relationship to His creation, aren’t (by definition) "essential" — inherent in the very essence, or nature, of God.  Nothing essential to God can depend on our existence.  That means, strangely enough, that concepts like "just," "merciful," "Creator," as important as they are in Christian theology, needn’t be included in the list.  John may believe God is merciful, and Jane may believe God is vindictive, and that does not mean they are not talking about the same Being — though undoubtedly their relationships with That Being are very, very different.

    Even more strangely, this restriction means that "Jesus," the Incarnation of the Second Person, is not an essential characteristic of God, because God hasn’t always had a human body (though he does from now on).  And that means that there’s no tautology here:  it is, in fact, logically possible to be a non-Christian who worships the same God that Christians do.   (And it’s possible to define "Christian" in such a way that some people called Christians do not worship that same God.  Indeed, many do.)

    There are three traditional descriptors that Christians have applied to God as we understand God to exist from all time.

    • God is eternal: God had no beginning, but always was; and God will have no end.
    • God is unique:  the only eternal entity in existence.  There is one God, no more, no less.
    • The eternally unique entity God is eternally also three persons, all equally the one God and all co-eternal, but distinctly related to one another:  the Second Person is eternally begotten from the First Person, and the Third Person proceeds from the First and Second.*

    So intertwined are these three descriptors that we typically apply a single term that we understand to encompass all three:  The Holy Trinity.   Eternal threeness and oneness:  that’s what the term means when we use it.   And that’s how I use it, of course.   Someone else might have a different name for the same set of ideas, and if so, fine; we’ll still call it the same concept.

    We do have more personal-sounding names for the First, Second, and Third persons of course:  we call them the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (or Ghost).  But in an effort to be as general as possible, I’m sticking to ordinal notation (which is also traditionally Christian, if less commonly used).  The main thing is the relationship among them:  there’s one who begets, one who is begotten, and another who proceeds somehow (not, presumably, involving begetting) from the others.     John may name them "Father, Son, and Spirit" and Jane may name them "Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier;" even though I believe for numerous reasons that John’s set of names are more precise, the names are less significant than the comprehension of the relationships when it comes to determining whether John and Jane worship the "same God." 

    So now, about the identities and overlaps among the sets labeled "Christian," "non-Christian," "believers in the same God that I’m talking about when I say the Christian God."  Draw yourself one of them executive-summary four-way charts:

    • Believe in the Trinity, deny the Incarnation, and you’re not a Christian but you are a believer in the "same God."
    • Disbelieve in the Trinity, believe in the Incarnation, and you could plausibly call yourself a Christian but not a believer in the "same God."   (I have reservations about this, to be explained later).
    • Disbelieve in both Trinity and Incarnation, and you are definitely not a believer in the "same God" and it’s getting a lot less plausible for you to call yourself a Christian. 
    • Believe in Trinity and Incarnation:  you might be a Christian who believes in the Christian God.

    My quibble with the Muslims-worship-the-same-God-as-Christians assertion is, of course, that they explicitly reject the Trinity.  There is no God but God, and that’s that.  (Christians, OTOH, say "There is no God but God, but there’s a little more to it than that.")

    Back in the comments to Dean Esmay’s post, Dean objected to this line of argument with the following:

    Really, honestly? Even though they say it’s the God of Abraham, even though they believe in the virgin birth of Jesus and revere him as one of God’s prophets, even though they say the Bible is a holy book merely flawed and incomplete, it’s still not the same God? Not just a misunderstanding of that God, but a totally different God? Because they argue over scripture?

    Okay, then I repeat: the Jews aren’t worshipping the same God either. Neither are the Mormons. Tell me where you want to stop with this.  Orthodox Christians disagree very deeply on certain fundamental issues of scriptural interpretation with American evangelicals–indeed, they’ll tell you that American Protestants use deeply warped and false translations of the Old and New Testaments and that things like the New International Version are borderline heretical because they’re so screwed up. So are they not worshipping the same God either?

    "They’re not worshipping the same God because they disagree with our interpretation of the Bible" is just [a] way of dehumanizing the Muslim and making his religion seem more alien, more evil.

    Taking those points backwards: 

    (1) some people might think "they don’t worship the same God" is an inherently dehumanizing statement, a statement of condemnation, and one that makes the other seem more evil.  I don’t think so.  I agree that it is alienating, in that it points out a difference.  I don’t agree that it’s a denigration.

    (2) It would be a correct application of the definitions I’ve laid out to say that Jewish people, as well as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Unitarians, and a number of other groups, worship a different sort of God than do (most well-catechized) Orthodox Christians, Catholics, and Protestants; but it wouldn’t follow to say that Catholics, most Protestant, and Orthodox worship different gods, because all are Trinitarians. 

    (3) The reasoning isn’t at all "because they argue over Scripture" — heaven knows, even people within the same denomination of the same religion do plenty of that —  but because they differ in their basic doctrinal concept of the deity, which is, after all, what we are trying to nail down.  From the Catholic and Orthodox point of view (and really the Protestant one too, though they may not realize it), this question is quite distinct from a difference over Scripture, because belief in the Trinity may be supported entirely from an argument from the earliest Christian Tradition.  We have the Apostolic and Nicene Creeds, for example, which don’t appear in Scripture at all but which concisely summarize the Trinitarian belief.  From the Muslim point of view, the questions are not distinct, because all religious authority rests in the Muslim Scripture and the Muslim claim is specifically that the Muslim God is the same God described in the Jewish Scriptures.  So Dean may be forgiven for missing that point.

    I find that even though I’m intellectually quite satisfied with these definitions, I feel some conflict about asserting that Jewish people do not worship "the same God" that Christians do.  Perhaps that’s because I have always viewed them as worshipping a God who is identically the First Person of the Trinity.  But now that I think of it, it may be more accurate to say that they worship a God who is the three persons telescoped into one.  In any case, if the threeness of God is truly essential — and I believe that it is — I am forced to conclude that the Jewish concept of God is, like the Muslim one, not the same as the Trinity, even if Jews, Muslims, and Christians all apply the term "the God of Abraham" to the deity.  Whether Jews and Muslims worship the same God, I’m not qualified to say.  (Here’s one argument that they don’t; I leave it to the reader to evaluate, and if anyone knows of a good counterargument I’ll post it.)

    Finally, about the reservations I have about the definition of the term "Christian."  Personally, I think people should be allowed to label themselves whatever they want.  But that doesn’t mean I have to use the same labels if I don’t find them helpful.  And any time I am in a serious discussion where definitions matter I will negotiate on an accepted set of terms and definitions in advance, because mutual understanding is impossible when the interlocutors mean different things by the same words. 

    So, I’m not bothered if, say, an atheist calls himself a Christian because he admires Jesus of Nazareth and tries to live by his moral exhortations.  (Though I wonder why he would use the term Christian, since Christ is not Jesus’s human name.)  I’m not bothered by various not-technically-Trinitarian groups calling themselves Christian either.  I’ll even do it myself colloquially.  Many times, it’s useful in conversation to apply the word "Christian" very generally.  But any time that definitions matter, I prefer a narrower, precise one, one that includes Trinitarianism as a requirement. 

    *There is some slight disagreement among Trinitarian Christians about whether it is necessary to include the "filioque" ("and the Son") in the Creed immediately after "we believe in the Holy Spirit… who proceeds from the Father."  Some Christians don’t.  I only wish to point out that if the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, then it is necessarily true that the Spirit proceeds from the Father; and the latter doesn’t exclude the former.  Thus I don’t think it represents an essential difference, but one of emphasis.


  • “The Star-Spangled Banner:” Better than I thought.

    David Kopel of the Volokh Conspiracy posts the lyrics to verses 2 through 4 of "The Star-Spangled Banner."  If it’s been a while since you last sang them, check it out.

    He also helpfully posts two other items of interest:  (1) the lyrics of "The Texan War Cry," which was written during the Texan war of independence and set to the tune of "The Star-Spangled Banner;"  and (2) the lyrics of "To Anacreon In Heaven," the British song that gave us the tune in the first place.

    I agree with Mr. Kopel that the lyrics to the verses after #1 have a certain timeliness today.   I suspect he was thinking of the third verse, which chides citizens whose fearfulness leads them to oppose fighting.   But I was struck a bit by something from the second.  Taking the flag as a symbol of American values, or "what this country stands for," or whatever you like — the idea that the blowing of the wind "now conceals, now discloses" it seems pretty apt in the age of spin.

    And I learned something, too.  The version I learned in school — yes, once upon a time I learned to sing all four verses — went like this in the fourth stanza:

    Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,

    And this be our motto:  "In God is our trust."

    The unqualified assertion of justice vaguely bothered me even as a third-grader.  So imagine how pleased I was to learn from a commenter on the Volokh thread that Francis Scott Key’s original manuscript goes like this:

    Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

    And this be our motto – "In God is our trust,"

    There now, isn’t that better?  I wonder who’s responsible for the change!