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].


  • “Formation in Christian Chastity:” An alternative to “Talking About Touching” in the Archdiocese of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

    Introducing Primary Educators League:

    We are a group of parents representing more than 14 parishes across the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis who are concerned about elements of the safe environment program being implemented in our archdiocese. We aren’t a formal organization, so we don’t have an official name or mailing address, but we share a desire to make parents aware of these programs.

    We are grateful that our Archbishop has given us alternatives to the official curriculum (that we find problematic), and we are working to make parents and pastors aware of these alternative options that are available.

    As many of you know, the Archdiocese of Minneapolis and Saint Paul is recommending certain anti-sex-abuse educational programs for children in its religious education classes and schools.  Some parents and priests have raised concerns that the recommended programs are not age-appropriate and that they usurp the role of parents in directing their child’s education in sensitive matters.  (Opt-out is available, but will parents have a chance to review the entire curriculum before making up their minds?)

    Primary Educators League is trying to raise awareness of an alternative, already approved program called "Formation in Christian Chastity" (FICC). They provide some sample lessons on their website here.  More detailed information can be found at the website of the Diocese of Harrisburg, which employs the program.

    In FICC, all the instruction in grades 1-4 is done at home, while a mix of classroom and home instruction is done in grades 5-8.  Parents, without their children, attend informational workshops or meetings at which they are provided with the resources to teach the material to their children.

    It looks good — in any case, better than the Archdiocese’s recommendation.  If our pastor petitions the Archbishop — and, if what appeared in the church bulletin last week is any indication, he probably will — we may be able to substitute FICC for TaT.


  • Anyone want to buy me a baby gift?

    Check out these baby tees.

    h/t NRO.  No, they’re not political baby tees.


  • I learned something from this one.

    Educational post on the minimum wage over at Asymmetrical Information.

    I’m embarrassed to admit that I thought of the issue a lot more simply than seems to be the case — as a tension between wages and employment levels.  There’s more to it than that.  An example:  "[M]ost people working at minimum wage are supplementing their studies, or their spouse’s income, rather than trying to support themselves with such a job. So in order to get to the relatively small number of people who need the money, we provide a subsidy to the 71% who do not. This is not very efficient social policy."


  • Did I write it on their foreheads?

    Last week a woman commented to my son and husband, "Wow, you two look a lot alike."   

    Oscar replied, "That’s because we have the same genes."

    She said, "You’re homeschooled, aren’t you?"

    Huh?  What gave it away?  I told her, surprised, that he was, and she explained, "One of my children is homeschooled."  I suppose if one of her children is homeschooled, she may be able to see some difference that I can’t… 

    This isn’t the first time that’s happened, maybe the second or third.  I told Hannah about it this week.  She speculated that homeschooled kids stand out, not because they are smarter, not because they have a larger vocabulary, not because they are more articulate, but because they are more comfortable talking to adults. 

    They expect that an adult who asks them a question is requesting a meaningful answer; they expect that an adult who addresses them directly is initiating a genuine conversation.  After all, homeschooled children are socialized primarily by adults, not primarily by other children their own age.

    I would expect that some homeschooled kids would have a fairly tough time, conversely, engaging in conversations and other social activity with institutionally-schooled children their own age.   Of course, so do plenty of institutionally-schooled children!


  • More on Archbishop Flynn and Fr. Altier.

    The Hadleys at Our Word and Welcome to it, who attend St. Agnes here in the Twin Cities, have a few more posts up about Fr. Altier.  This one is especially good for you out-of-towners.

    I’ve never met Archbishop Flynn; the only personal contact I’ve had with him is his response to a letter I wrote to him several years ago regarding something I witnessed during a funeral Mass at St. Joan of Arc Church. The abuses are too numerous to mention here and are more appropriate to another post. Suffice it to say that I outlined what I saw, wondered if he knew about these things, and asked why this was allowed to continue. The return letter I received amounted to a literary pat on the head. Thanks for your comments, don’t worry yourself about it, bless you.

    I had a similar experience.  I wrote a letter to him in 2004 regarding problems we saw over several years at St. Lawrence Church and Newman Center (we’ve since left that parish).  He wrote a reply, along the lines of I have concluded that there are no serious problems at that parish.   (Note:  I got a friendlier response from Auxiliary Bishop Richard Pates, whom I copied.)

    To be fair, however, my friends who still attend St. Lawrence tell me that the new Paulist pastor has been steadily diminishing the liturgical abuse problem (though I hear that not everyone at the parish has been happy about the implementation — but what do you expect — there are bound to be differences in opinion about administrative and pastoral style, and a lot of people aren’t even aware that the Church has rules that were being broken).  I do not know how much of this is a response to behind-the-scenes pressure from the Archdiocese, and how much is the new pastor’s initiative — but it’s heartening.

    As the years have passed, I have become less and less confident that Archbishop Flynn could or would handle the problems in the Archdiocese that needed attention (the Rainbow Sashers, pro-abortion "Catholic" politicians receiving Holy Communion, etc.). In his defense, I have read and heard stories about his pastoral skills; about how he would go in the middle of the night to comfort the loved ones of someone on the verge of death, ministering to those in need. And, he supports the Marriage Amendment.

    I’ll add two more points in the Archbishop’s defense.  First, in my experience he is an excellent homilist who tries to say mass at every parish in the archdiocese at least once per year.    (I well remember a moment in the middle of his "guest homily" at St. Lawrence, perhaps five years ago.   A mother was trying to make her way out of the pew to carry a loudly crying baby out of the sanctuary, and he interrupted himself mid-sentence and said to her, "No, stay.  I want to hear the voices of children in the church.  So many of them have been silenced."  And he meant it, too — she stayed, with the baby, and no one would have dared to glare at her!)   

    Second, according to some folks at my parish who are in the know, he’s been pouring a lot of work — mostly behind the scenes — into St. John Vianney Seminary.  The fruits are already ripening there — you know, fifteen men were ordained priests last year.    The opinion of those I talked to was that Flynn has a long-term view — that the most important thing, and the best return on the investment of his time and energy, isn’t to discipline wayward parishes, but to form a generation of good, solid priests.  That seems to be paying off at the seminary. 

    I don’t think it’s okay to ignore problems at parishes.  Folks in the wayward parishes, especially those who are "stuck" — people who have difficulty with transportation, who live in rural areas with only one parish, children and youth who must go where their parents go — have needs that are not being met; to ignore the problems isn’t to indulge those people, it’s to harm them.  But it’s also true that no man and no archdiocese has infinite resources, and he has to apply them in the places where he believes they will do the most good.  You and I may disagree with his choices,  but — at the end of the day he’s the one who has to answer for them.

    The lesson we can take from this is from Fr. Altier himself, who when he was told to stop his comments in the media, did so, obediently and humbly and immediately. What a role model, especially in this time of Lent as we reflect on our Lord who went to the Cross without opposition or complaint. We are called upon to pick up our cross daily and follow Him and that is precisely what Fr. Altier has done.

    Absolutely.  I hope the rest of the archdiocese’s priests are taking notes.


  • Awwwwww.

    Here’s a nice baby gift idea for all you godparents out there.  (Maybe if you email them, they’ll make one for you.)


  • Maybe that bit about “when you fast, wash your face” helps bring us into compliance with OSHA regulations.

    In the comments over at Ten Reasons:  whether or not the priest is, technically, smearing some lye on your forehead along with the blessed ashes on Ash Wednesday.

                         H2O (holy)  +   Na2O (hosanna!) —>  2 NaOH (ow!)

    I am really, really surprised, and a bit ashamed, that this never occurred to me before.



  • Gag order.

    A few days ago I mentioned that my parish won’t be doing any of the archdiocesan-recommended anti-sex-abuse programs, and wondered how it would all come out in the press.  Today in the Star Tribune an article described a curious situation involving a fairly well-known and respected priest at St. Agnes, Fr. Robert Altier, who has commented unfavorably about the children’s portion of Virtus, the Archdiocese’s sex abuse education program (links below added by me):

    A St. Paul priest’s opposition to an Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis anti-sex-abuse curriculum has led to a request by Archbishop Harry Flynn "to take some time off" from his radio and web ministries, the archdiocese’s spokesman said Friday.

    The Rev. Robert Altier of St. Agnes Catholic Church has condemned the children’s component of the Virtus program, which is mandated for all Catholic schools and religious education programs.

    Altier’s "Voice in the Desert" website… said he has chosen "obedient compliance" with Flynn’s request to refrain from posting commentaries or broadcasting them on Relevant Radio, 1330 AM.

    "Father Altier is an honored priest, and has not committed any improprieties," archdiocese spokesman Dennis McGrath said. He said Flynn will not discuss the issue publicly because it is a "personnel matter, but I surmise that Father Altier’s contrarian position on Virtus is the issue."

    Father Altier is a great priest — I can say this from personal experience, as I’ve heard his homilies and I’ve been to him for confession.  He has posted transcripts of his homilies, which are intelligent, reasoned discussions of the Gospel, for a long time, for anyone to access via the web.  (Now they’re down.)  He is a regular guest on — in my opinion the best part of — the Drew Mariani Show on Relevant Radio, fielding all kinds of questions about Catholic practices, theology, current events, you name it.  (Not for the time being.)

    This is an example of it all going both ways, I suppose.  I have criticized some in the past for complaining when the archdiocese stops comment or activity by priests who push the envelope of Church teachings in the "left" direction.  They work for the Church, the Church issues their paychecks, they ought to expect that it will dictate their activities to some extent.  So when criticism comes from priests on the "right," and the archdiocese requests that they quiet that criticism, the same principles apply.  (Except, nags one side as I write this paragraph in an attempt to be fair and balanced, Fr. Altier isn’t left or right of, but centered on, the magisterium; he’s trying to encourage the archdiocese to be faithful to the magisterium.)

    Of course he’s chosen "obedient compliance" with Archbishop Flynn’s request:  the archbishop is his superior, and Father Altier is a faithful priest, and he vowed obedience, after all.   The ones who are outspokenly faithful to the magisterium are the ones who will be quiet when the bishop asks them to… which is as it should be, but sort of frustrating.

    I’m guessing, however, that a large number of Catholics — locally and nationally —who like what Fr. Altier has to say, and who are not bound to the same kind of obedience, will be writing and talking a lot about Fr. Altier’s enforced silence.

    (But cheer up!  Even though we can’t read Fr. Altier’s homilies anymore, text versions of the speeches made by guest speakers at St. Joan of Arc during Sunday Mass are still available!  And there’s plenty we can learn from them… for example, that the only important reason why we follow Jesus instead of John the Baptist, the most important difference between them (after all, they were similar in every other way)  is that John preached a God of vengeance.  Or that Mary’s "yes" to the angel of the Annuciation is not properly translated as "Behold the handmaid of the Lord"— which would imply that women should not have control over their bodies — but rather as "I am a partner of Holy Mystery unfolding.")

    OK, that was snarky, I admit it.  <sigh>

    UPDATE:  Alicia tells me that some of Fr. Altier’s homilies have been cached and put online at Catholic Light.

    UPDATE:  The Catholic blogosphere is awakening:  Regular Guy has comments and links.  Our Word and Welcome To It, local, has a brief, weary statement.   


  • Lenten recipe series: Spinach fettucine with squash and chickpeas.

    Nothing says Lent like obsessing about food, right?  Here’s last night’s meatless dinner.  I adapted it from a recipe in a Williams-Sonoma cookbook called Pasta Sauces.  Don’t substitute dried sage for the fresh sage leaves — they are essential to the flavor.

      • 12 oz       spinach fettucine
      • 1 lb         butternut squash, peeled, seeded, in 1/2" dice
      • 1             medium thinly sliced onion
      • 10           fresh sage leaves
      • 6 T         unsalted butter
      • 1/2 c      grated Parmesan cheese
      • 1 c          drained canned chickpeas

    Melt half the butter over medium heat in a large nonstick skillet.  Saute onions gently until very soft and beginning to caramelize, about 10 minutes.  Add squash and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until tender and golden brown, 20 to 30 minutes more.  About 10 minutes before squash is done, stir in chickpeas.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.

    Meanwhile, boil fettucine in salted water until al dente.  Drain, reserving some of the cooking liquid, and transfer pasta to serving bowl.   

    Melt the remaining butter in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Add sage leaves and fry until crisp, just a few minutes.  (It’s okay if the butter browns a little bit.)

    Add just enough cooking liquid to the squash mixture to thin it a little, stirring to loosen browned bits from the bottom.  Immediately pour over pasta.  Add Parmesan cheese and toss to combine.  Pour sage leaves and butter over top, toss again, and serve.

    We had this with a simple green salad.  I’ve been making it for years and it’s one of my favorite non-tomato-based pasta sauces.  I don’t know if it beats the parish fish fry, but it’s sure nice.


  • Happy campers.

    From Gail Rosenblum at the Star Tribune, an article on married couples who met at summer camp:

    Any parent who sends a child to summer camp knows that the return home will include a trunk-load of smelly laundry, at least one art project made from twigs, and a heartening boost in self-confidence.

    But the e-mail address of a potential spouse, too?

    It’s surprisingly easy to find people who met their future husband or wife at summer camp.

    Those who’ve done it have theories about why things worked so well in the woods. They often mention shared values — for the great outdoors, a sport or foreign language, or religious faith. Camp also granted them limitless time away from grown-ups to learn about one other (under the watchful eye of camp counselors, natch). Best of all, there’s nothing like the relaxed, blow-dryer-free environment of camp to give everyone permission to be themselves.

    At first I was just amused that this topic accompanied the Strib’s annual "Camp Guide."  Are parents meant to take matchmaking into account when they pick a camp for their kids? 

    But then I noticed an interesting detail about the article that is not mentioned in the lede or the headline.  Here is the list of the camps where the happy couples in the article met one another:

    • Camp Quadna, "a Catholic church camp in northern Minnesota"
    • Luther Park Bible Camp in Danbury, Wisconsin
    • Covenant Pines Bible Camp "in the northern woods of Minnesota"
    • Camp Ramah, "a Jewish camp in Wisconsin"

    I wonder if the author of the story originally planned it to focus on religious-based camps, or if it just happened to turn out that way? 


  • Meditation: The mystery of the Visitation.

    Today after First Saturday mass, as I prepared to mediate for fifteen minutes on a single mystery of the rosary, I wondered again whether I’d have enough "material" to work with.  (But not for as long.  I’m getting more confident about this situation.)

    The second mystery is the mystery of the Visitation:  Mary’s journey to visit Elizabeth.  It’s all in the first chapter of Luke — which is always worth reading in full, if you ask me, perhaps the richest single chapter of all scripture.  Here are some of the thoughts that came to me today:

    The image of the Visitation is always an embrace or greeting between the two women, Mary and Elizabeth, the two pregnant mothers.   And I’ve been in situations like that, been pregnant and greeting other pregnant women, pregnant friends.  I’m taking a trip next month, in fact, pregnant, to visit a friend who’s expecting her first child (a friend, who, like Elizabeth, had great difficulty conceiving).  I know the excitement of telling a friend, or hearing from a friend, of a new pregnancy.  And that’s part of what is going on in the Visitation, this purely natural, joyful embrace.  Especially with a first pregnancy, as in these pregnancies.  Isn’t it wonderful?  Isn’t it exciting? 

    But of course that’s not the beginning of the story.   The Visitation is entwined with the Annunciation.  It begins with Zechariah’s vision, leaving him literally dumbstruck, and Elizabeth’s miraculous conception of John the Baptist, and her five months’ seclusion after that.  And then the angel appears to Mary, and announces the conception of the Lord, and even before Mary has a chance to utter her ecce ancilla domini, the angel gives her even more news:  Elizabeth, astonishingly, is pregnant.   Joy upon joy — wouldn’t it be overwhelming?  Wouldn’t your head be spinning?  Somewhere in Mary’s mind must have been the I must go to Elizabeth and see her and see if there’s anything I can do for her at the same time that she was about to give her "Yes" to God.

    And so she "set out and traveled to the hill country" to visit Elizabeth, and don’t we know why?  Elizabeth was six months pregnant, and Mary wound up staying "about three months."  Did Mary stay long enough to be there when Elizabeth gave birth to John?  Perhaps; perhaps not; it’s not clear.   I like to think she was there, among the neighbors and relatives who "rejoiced," and perhaps even watched Zechariah write on the tablet "His name is John."  I like to think that Mary, raised among other temple virgins, saw birth for the first time when Elizabeth brought forth John the Baptist in blood and water, strengthening Mary with wisdom and peace; and that she saw it for the second time when she birthed her own firstborn son.  You, child, will be called prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare His ways.

    But back to that first meeting.  So dramatic, surely with tears all around; Mary already knew of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, but this was the first time Elizabeth knew of Mary’s; she couldn’t have been expecting the visitor.  It was for Elizabeth a kind of second Annunciation, borne to her by Mary and announced by a child’s "leap" in the womb.  (What a verb!  Have you ever seen the belly move when a sixmonths’ child leaps?)  And don’t the two of them make there, a kind of universal picture of all womanhood at all times?  The maiden-mother greeting the mother-crone, the one bearing the last of the prophets, the other bearing the beginning of the Word?

    And after that meeting — read carefully what they said to one another — followed three months of quiet, ordinary perhaps, in any case unrecorded living.  Elizabeth welcomed her, probably offered her food and rest; Mary stayed, ate with the family, helped with the household duties; and they both waited, and wondered.