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].


  • Just in time.

    Today I made it to 8 AM Mass, the second time I’ve attempted the First Saturday devotion.  I probably won’t get to it next month because I’ll be traveling.

    I went to breakfast first, which I regretted after I arrived at the church, because I’d finished eating just past 7:30 — later than usual — and I figured Communion would probably be over by 8:30, so I wouldn’t have observed the one-hour fast required to receive the sacrament.  I grumbled to myself and resolved to skip breakfast, or at least to eat earlier, next time.  And I sat, and sat, and sat.  And then the priest came in, preceded by the lectionary-bearer, and as I got to my feet I looked at the clock and saw that he was more than ten minutes late.   Hm.  Sure enough, I found myself in the Communion line, chuckling, precisely one hour after I’d shoveled in the last bite of fried yuca. 

    Count that as the second "unusual coincidence" related to my decision to start attending first Saturdays…


  • Fish and Fridays — outside Lent.

    Today I found a light church-bulletin piece by Deacon Greg Sampson (Rochester, NY) on the Catholic discipline of abstaining from meat on Fridays — not during Lent, but the rest of the year.  Deacon Greg begins with a humorous anecdote and ends with a comment and question:

    Why was the obligation to abstain from meat on Friday removed?  It was not because it was felt that penitential practices were unimportant.  Rather, it was felt that penitential practices were so important that they should not be made obligatory.  So when we were told that we were not obliged to abstain on Friday, we were also told that voluntary abstinence was an excellent practice.  And – here’s the biggy – we were asked to perform some act of alms-giving and/or service as our Friday offering, instead of simply munching on haddock. 

         The idea was this:  Instead of having millions of Catholics eating fish on Friday "because they have to", it would be better to have millions of Catholics practice the abstinence on a voluntary basis, coupled with prayer and specific acts of charity.  Has it worked out like that?  Well, not exactly.  Shall we work at it?

    Briefly, this used to be something we were all required to do, with local variations (e.g., in some places, dairy products and eggs were also off the menu) and certain exemptions (e.g., sick people and pregnant women). In 1966, the U. S. Bishops’ Conference altered the discipline for the dioceses of the United States, so that abstaining from meat on Fridays outside Lent became a voluntary option.  Penance of some sort is still required, but the faithful are allowed to substitute some other kind of penance, particularly acts of charity.  Many other Bishops’ Conferences have, by now, made similar changes.

    What were the famous words?  "It seemed like a good idea at the time?"  These words from the 1966 bishops’ document (linked above) are hopeful:

    It would bring great glory to God and good to souls if Fridays found our people doing volunteer work in hospitals, visiting the sick, serving the needs of the aged and the lonely, instructing the young in the faith, participating as Christians in community affairs, and meeting our obligations to our families, our friends, our neighbors, and our community, including our parishes, with a special zeal born of the desire to add the merit of penance to the other virtues exercised in good works born of living faith.

    It would, yes.  But… it really hasn’t happened.  When was the last time you heard of a Catholic friend who made a point of doing volunteer work of any kind on Fridays?  Maybe there’s a large number of Catholics out there who quietly and privately engage in special penitential practices on Friday — but I suspect not.

    Even though they lifted the requirement of abstaining from meat as a means of meeting the non-Lenten Friday penitential obligation, the bishops still recommended it:

    [E]ven though we hereby terminate the traditional law of abstinence…we give first place to abstinence from flesh meat. We do so in the hope that the Catholic community will ordinarily continue to abstain from meat by free choice as formerly we did in obedience to Church law. Our expectation is based on the following considerations;

    a. We shall thus freely and out of love for Christ Crucified show our solidarity with the generations of believers to whom this practice frequently became, especially in times of persecution and of great poverty, no mean evidence of fidelity in Christ and his Church.

    b. We shall thus also remind ourselves that as Christians, although immersed in the world and sharing its life, we must preserve a saving and necessary difference from the spirit of the world. Our deliberate, personal abstinence from meat, more especially because no longer required by law, will be an outward sign of inward spiritual values that we cherish.

    Except that this didn’t happen either.  What happened is that Friday penance simply disappeared from Ordinary Time in the lives of ordinary Catholics.  People ate meat on Fridays, never got around to picking up any other penitential practices, and now Friday penance has been forgotten entirely.

    I submit in obedience to the U. S. Bishops, of course, but I am still free to think that some of their decisions are, frankly, unwise.  This has turned out to be one of them.  I’ve already pointed out that their prediction of a new springtime of Friday charity turned out to be completely wrong.  They’re wrong elsewhere too:  Their justification of the change rests on two arguments, for which there are strong counter-arguments.

    First, they write, "Meat was once an exceptional form of food, now it is commonplace."  The implication is that penitential abstinence should require us to abstain from something exceptional rather than something common.  This is ludicrous.  It puts me in mind of declaring that I should give up expensive French champagne for Lent.  Abstaining from something pleasant that I enjoy only on rare occasions anyway is not abstinence at all.   

    Back when the poor didn’t eat much meat, the obligatory meatless Friday was actually progressive.  People who ate meat daily got a weekly taste of a kind of poverty.   People who couldn’t afford meat were barely inconvenienced by the rule.  And who knows — maybe the artificially depressed demand for meat marginally lowered its cost for the poor. 

    And now that the poor in the U. S. generally can afford meat, because we’re generally much better off than we used to be, the meatless Friday is less progressive but more universally penitential.   It’s a sacrifice available to everyone.  (I have heard some people argue, "But fish is more expensive than meat."  To those people I have an assignment:  Visit your local grocery store and check the prices of eggs, peanut butter, cheese, and beans.  And have you ever heard of canned tuna?)  The only Catholics not doing penance by keeping a meatless Friday are vegetarians, and I am sure that those folks are creative enough to come up with an alternative.

    Secondly, the bishops write, "The spirit of penance primarily suggests that we discipline ourselves in that which we enjoy most" and "[T]o many… renunciation of other things would be more penitential." 

    Where to begin? Let’s start with "the spirit of penance." Arguments from "the spirit of" almost anything are a cop-out.  Generally the words "the spirit of" are properly translated as "our opinion of" (cf. "the spirit of Vatican II.")  This is no exception.  The spirit of penance (i.e. the bishops’ opinion of penance) may suggest that we should restrict ourselves in that which we enjoy most, but no Church law that I can find has ever suggested this, nor does Scripture in my knowledge.  Furthermore, the problems created by the subjectivity of the requirement are obvious.  What if the thing I enjoy most is going to daily Mass, or cooking dinner for my family?  Let’s be frank about this:  The bishops made this bit up.

    The next part is true:  To many, renunciation of something other than meat would indeed be more penitential.  I can think of dozens of things that I would be harder-pressed to give up,  for a day, than meat.   For that matter, it is much easier for me, a busy mom, to give up meat for a day than to plan some "positive" act of charity or penance:  to get to Friday morning mass with children in tow, to leave my children so that I can do volunteer work, even to find time to spend an extra half-hour in prayer, all of these are more challenging (and not always charitable). 

    But even though it is true, what does this sentence imply about penance?  Is the more penitential practice always a better choice than the less penitential practice?  Certainly not.  If we take this too far, we’ll all be flagellating ourselves again.  Immoderation is possible even in the practice of usually good things.   

    When meatless Fridays were prescribed outside Lent, the amount of penitence was regulated.   Now it’s not limited at all.  Whereas the most widespread problem with pick-your-own-penance is that many do not choose penance at all, or choose too little, the more damaging problem is associated with scrupulosity:  the feeling that one has not done enough penance, and has to keep doing more and more and more, to the detriment of one’s ordinary duties.   Prescribed penance is much healthier for those afflicted with scrupulosity, which can be a serious form of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

    So, what might the bishops have done better?  My suggestion: They could have given permission instead to pastors to dispense from the meatless Friday as the primary means of meeting the Friday penitential obligation.   Under this system, most Catholics would abstain from meat on Fridays; those who had a better idea for their own Friday penance (say, a person who proposed to sign up for regular soup-kitchen work on Fridays, or another who proposed to spend an hour in adoration on Fridays, or a vegetarian who proposed to give up bread instead of meat on Fridays) could approach their parish priest for the dispensation, which is really nothing more than a verbal o.k. and blessing. 

    Lest some pastors be too stingy with the dispensations, pastors could be exhorted to accept without question nearly all proposed alternative penances unless they seemed truly meaningless ("I’d like to give up caviar instead of meat on Friday") or excessive ("Instead of giving up meat, I’d like to spend eight hours every Friday in front of the Blessed Sacrament.")

    In this system, too, pastors could suggest from the pulpit many alternative ways to meet the Friday penance, and even set up specific penances for the whole parish:  exposing the Blessed Sacrament all day Friday, for example, and dispensing anyone who makes a special visit, or offering a Friday Stations of the Cross and dispensing all who attend.

    This system would better meet the Bishops’ intentions.  Abstinence from meat, to which the bishops gave "first place" "among the works of voluntary self-denial and personal penance," would remain the ordinary form of Friday penance.  Friday penance would remain an important tradition of the faithful.  And yet, the alternatives of works of charity or special attention to prayer would always be a choice, and perhaps would be even more widely practiced, because a good pastor with a devotion to social outreach or to contemplative prayer, would likely feel more encouraged to preach these activities from the pulpit, specifically as a penitential practice for Fridays.

    There’s still time.  I hear the U. S. Bishops are considering reviving the meatless non-Lenten Friday, as an expression of Catholicity and in reparation for the sin of abortion.  What do you think?



  • Comments.

    While I was on vacation I got some nice comments, and some funny comments, from a few visitors.  I wasn’t around to say Thanks then, so I’m saying it now.  🙂

    Perhaps the coolest e-mail was from the wikiblogger who found my blog while looking for information about "journal bearing" in the mechanical engineering sense and decided to stay and read, and liked it!  Thanks, Zhurnaly!


  • “Talking about Touching:” Won’t happen at our parish.

    I opened the church bulletin yesterday evening (Ash Wednesday) to find a long paragraph written by the parish school principal headlined "Safe Environment Report." 

    Last Friday, a team from [name of school and parish] attended an Archdiocesan meeting [Archdiocese of Minneapolis/St. Paul] to commence the implementation of "safe environment" classes in Catholic schools and religious-education programs across the diocese.  At the meeting, it was announced that Talking about Touching was the chosen program for Pre-K through Grade 4.

    Groan.  Great. 

    This is part of the bishops’ response to the sexual abuse scandal and crisis over the past years:  implementing anti-sexual abuse education for children in the schools and religious ed programs throughout the country, diocese by diocese.  It doesn’t seem like a bad idea.  But numerous commentators have raised concerns about the content of the programs chosen.  Here’s an article by Dom Bettinelli, for example.

    Bottom line:  Any anti-abuse program that relies on the children to protect themselves is asking for trouble.  Sexually explicit anti-abuse education for children at the institution ought not even to be necessary — at best it should be redundant.  Send the parents to training to teach them how to talk to their kids.  Send every adult who works in a parish to training.  Foster a culture of looking out for each other.  Have rules that no adult is ever alone in a room with one or two or three kids.   In other words, let the grownups carry the burden.

    I went on reading:

    Our team has reviewed this program and the others that the Archdiocese recommended and found them to be completely unacceptable.  [Name of school and parish] will continue to explore a suitable means to provide our parents with the tools necessary to protect their children from the scourge of abuse in our society but it will not be through the use of Talking about Touching.

    Go, Father!

    Our goal is to find appropriate materials to provide our parents with a home-based alternative that supports their role as the primary educator of their child(ren) in accordance with the Church’s teachings in Familiaris Consortio and Truth and Meaning of Human Sexuality.  Each step we take in this process will be completely transparent to you through parent meetings that will be scheduled in the Spring and next Fall. 

    A very important part of [name of school]’s mission is to protect our students from all that can cause harm, spiritually, physically, socially, and emotionally.  We will not in any way compromise this mission.

    Implying quite strongly that Talking about Touching can cause harm.

    If you have any questions or concerns about what the "safe environment" program is, there is a comprehensive article you can read at (link).

    Hi there Dom! Nice to see you again!

    All [name of school and parish] families will be notified of upcoming parent meetings as soon as they are scheduled.

    Believe me, I’ll be there.

    I’m sure there are probably some arguments for Talking about Touching, and in the interest of balance I’d like to Google for them and post them, but I’m in a hurry to get to adoration.  However, I’d like to guess them.  #1:  Easy to teach.  Wanna bet?

    I’m curious how this is going to play out.  I expect that Archbishop Flynn will not prevent our parish from implementing something else, as long as the parish can show that the goals of the bishops’ conference are being met.  Let’s hope it doesn’t make the news, though.  Can you imagine?  Local parish refuses to implement anti-sexual-abuse program?

    UPDATE.  Here’s the column written by the archbishop in this week’s archdiocesan paper.  Archbishop Flynn says the material is "age-appropriate" and that parental concern has come about because of "misinformation and untruths" about the program.  He does say there are "family-based" alternatives and that parents will be able to opt out, which is heartening.  He also says that "a resource booklet has been delivered to each household in the archdiocese that has children."  I haven’t gotten mine yet…


  • I’m back.

    From vacation.

    Blogging will resume shortly.


  • Thinking about first grade and reading.

    I sat down today to plan Oscar’s first grade curriculum — just the preliminary stages.

    After many, many hours of drill and practice, mainly from lists of words I drew up, Oscar can recognize many different spellings for many different sounds and has developed a decoding strategy.  I tried giving him sentences and little stories a long time ago, but he found them frustrating — it was pretty obvious that he needed to be able to decode words reasonably rapidly before he could see through the text to the content.  So, I abandoned the whole idea of "stories" and just did drill and one-word-at-a-time practice.  I introduced sounds and spellings systematically and slowly, trying never to give him a word he couldn’t decode by calling on the knowledge he had, and avoiding all "sight words."   This seems to have worked really well for him.

    Just last week I decided to try stories again.  I chose the Bob Books for his very first readers.  The first books are written at a level far below the level of the wordlists that Oscar is reading right now.  Yesterday his wordlist was cutting, poked, bumped, ate, off, different, laugh, and the next one will be tried, size, July, might, use, count, pound, powers, wow.  But the Bob Books he read this week included, for example:

    Mac had a bag.  The bag had a dog.  Mac had a bag and a dog. Mag had a rag.  Mac can tag Mag.  Mac got the rag.  Mac sat on the rag.  Mag sat on the bag. 

    The End.

    There’s no difficulty there for him to read the words, not at all, though he still reads most of them drawn-out — "Maaaaa… c….  Mac… had… a…. baaaag."  I can practically watch his confidence grow on every page.  He’s just flown through them, and he has been begging me to sit and listen to him read more of them.  Granted, this is partly because I promised him a sticker for each one — but if he wasn’t enjoying the work, he wouldn’t do it for a paltry little sticker.

    I’m hoping that once we’ve gone through them all, maybe repeated a few of them to help build fluency, he’ll be ready to tackle readers and "real" books.  And then, we can stop all this phonics business and simply start reading.


  • Contraception and the continuum.

    I wrote this as a post to a newsgroup about the Continuum Concept — mainly focused on raising children according to their human sociobiological needs (e.g. nursing, babywearing, cosleeping) — in response to a thread about contraception.  (The term "in the continuum" is a bit of jargon that roughly means, "in a lifestyle that meets the human needs communicated to us by our biology, our bodies.")

    A previous poster had mentioned — perhaps in order to make a point that population control is common and should be considered a part of our continuum expectation — that infanticide exists in nearly all cultures, including our own.  True enough, and it’s certainly especially widespread in our own if you include abortion as a form of "invisible infanticide."  I was interested in exploring the idea of what contraception does to the human continuum of relationships.  I wonder if it might even be more insidious than infanticide (note:  this doesn’t mean "more evil" but only "more insidious") at destroying our sense of rightness of being, precisely because it’s so invisible.  Here’s what I wrote.

    I’m glad [name withheld] brought this up.  ISTM that contraception is profoundly incompatible with continuum living.

    Even though infanticide and/or abortion, tragically, exist in all cultures, and
    even though I suppose there’s always been herbal concoctions and other attempts
    to regulate fertility, there’s something more insidiously noncontinuum (note:  more noncontinuum does not necessarily equal "more bad" here) about modern contraception’s effects on relationships and sexuality.

    I mean, it’s basically sowed an attitude among many people that sex and babies are
    NOT inherently associated.  Remember, without modern contraception, every time a
    man has sexual intercourse with a nonpregnant, nonlactating woman of childbearing
    age, it is a reasonable expectation that a baby might result.  (Even those of us
    who know our cycles very well know we can be mistaken about them.) With modern contraception, the same couple engaging in sexual intercourse might well have an expectation that a baby is practically impossible.  Enough of that and they might not even think in terms of "this is an activity that may make a baby," or may not have
    any real concept that "baby" and "sex" are intimately related activities.  If they fall pregnant, they may be surprised.  "How did this happen?" they may ask.  The answer then seems to be "Something was wrong with my
    contraceptive," rather than, "I had sex with a fertile partner."

    Why do I say that this is perhaps less compatible with the human continuum than infanticide?  If the only effect of either was on the population numbers, maybe it wouldn’t matter. 

    But even if a baby is killed after birth, the baby existed, and the link between
    sex and babies is known in the depth of everyone’s being.  The woman experienced
    pregnancy, swelled and grew, gave birth to a wriggling, squalling, rooting little
    human being that everyone knew originated in a sexual encounter that she had had
    some months before.  For the community to control the population via infanticide, someone has to take that baby and kill her, one way or another.

    That is a very… concrete… experience within a family or within a community,
    to say the least.   

    One would expect that in a culture that knows in its bones that sex makes babies,
    sex itself would be a somewhat different experience than in a culture where sex
    and babies have been, effectively, disconnected.  By extension, relationships between
    men and women, husbands and wives, would be different too.  We’ve nearly destroyed
    our expectation that sex makes babies.  Abortion, too, is different from infanticide
    in that its invisibility makes it possible for many people to deny that the baby

    ever existed — and so it, too, feeds that attitude.  Sex and babies are not linked,
    because today it is possible, with not too much effort, to have plenty of sex and
    never lay eyes on a single live, wriggling, squalling, rooting little human being.

    I mean, let me point out from the discussion that’s gone on about teenagers and
    sex.  There’s a lot of people here hoping that they can help their teenagers wait
    until they are "emotionally ready" for sex.  Certainly this is true, because
    sex tends to bond people to each other (and the biological reason for this, of course,
    is the babies that sex naturally tends to bring into being.)  But ISTM that a more
    cc test for being ready for sex — one based in our biological expectations —
    is being ready and willing to parent a child.  And perhaps being ready and willing
    to parent a child is not all that different from being truly emotionally ready for
    sex, no?  If we look at it from the point of view of the continuum, *within which
    the expectation is that sex can make a baby — a wriggling, squalling, rooting
    little human being?*

    I mean, if we have the quite rational expectation that sex makes babies, then we
    would KNOW in our bones that if you’re not ready and willing to mother a child,
    to father a child, you’re not ready for sex. 

    And if we DON’T have that expectation, if we prefer to live in a world where we
    can effectively pretend that sex is not going to lead to babies, how can we say
    we are trying to live in the continuum?  What does it do to our sex lives, the sex
    lives of our children, when we can have sex without the slightest thought that pregnancy and birth and a baby might result?

    Disclaimer:  I don’t use artificial contraception, and I am expecting my third wriggling,
    squalling, rooting little human being this summer.

    I am curious what kind of response I will get.  I hope I didn’t water my comments down too much — I’m really not trying to say that infanticide is preferable to contraception — but seeing as how I was placed on "moderated" status last year due to "inflammatory comments" (I objected strongly to a comment from someone who felt that adoption was cruel and abortion was kind), I always feel that I can’t be fully expressive of my opinions lest none of them at all make it through.


  • Light blogging.

    Over the next ten days or so.


  • Message to all those people in college who wondered what Mark and I talk about behind closed doors: Yes, it really is exactly what you think it is.

    Breakfast conversation:

    Mark:   Is there something called the Mercene primes, or the Marecene primes?

    Me:   Mercenne primes.  Um, they’re of the form 2n+1 I think.  No wait, that’s just an odd number.  Um…

    Mark:  Is it two to the power of n plus 1?

    Me:  That sounds right.  I forget.  (Note:  I was wrong, it’s two to the power of P minus 1 where, by implication, P is also prime.  See, e.g., the Mersenne Wiki, or this page by an enthusiast/researcher at the University of Tennessee-Martin.)  Anyway, google Mersenne series.  Why do you want to know, anyway?

    Mark:  In case anybody asks me how many children we plan to have. 

    Me:  Oh, I see. "Four, plus or minus two, with ninety-five percent confidence," doesn’t work anymore. 

    Mark:  Right, so I figured I would go with "I don’t care as long as it’s a Mersenne prime."  One, five, eleven, and so forth.

    Me:  Don’t you think the Fibonacci series would be better?

    Mark:  Why?

    Erin:  Well, at least with Fibonacci we haven’t made any mistakes yet.  First we had one, then we had two, now we’re going to have three.

    Mark:  Ah-ha!  I can say that we are having an ongoing argument about it.  "Erin prefers the Fibonacci series, but I am shooting for the Mersenne primes."

    Erin:  Well, you know, they start out pretty close—

    Mark: —but they diverge wildly after a while!  Yes!

    Erin:  I don’t know about this "eleven" thing. 

    You can imagine my relief when I clicked around and discovered that eleven is not, actually, a Mersenne prime.  (Of course, I had to send an e-mail to Mark at work with the subject line "URGENT:  MERSENNE PRIMES," lest he make a fool of himself describing our family planning strategy to some product formulator who turned out to be a closet GIMPS enthusiast.)

    UPDATE:  This post seems to have inspired some commentary elsewhere — see, e.g., Rutabaga Dreams.  And Selkie, which seems to be a pretty cool homeschooling mom blog too.


  • Very cool prints.

    Click this link to go to a site selling prints depicting various historical topics in infographic format.  I particularly like the two "History of the Political Parties" prints.

    I wonder if Edward Tufte has commented on them?


  • The Second Circuit Court of Appeals has lost its mind.

    Court rules:   New York City public schools may explicitly ban nativity scenes during Christmas while in the same policy explicitly permitting displays of menorahs during Hanukkah and the star-and-crescent during Ramadan.

    This boggles the mind.   Either all three must be permitted, or all three must be banned — right?

    The policy at issue expressly states that the display of "secular holiday symbol decorations is permitted," and it lists as examples the menorah and the star and crescent. The policy specifically excludes the display of the Christian nativity scene. The City defended its policy by arguing that the menorah and star and crescent were permissible symbols because they were "secular," whereas the nativity scene had to be excluded because it was "purely religious." Even though the majority recognized that the City’s argument was fallacious, stating that the policy "mischaracterizes" these symbols, it still upheld the discriminatory ban on the Christian nativity.

    This is nuts.  There’s no way the U.S. Supreme Court will go for the argument that a menorah is secular "enough" and a nativity scene is not secular "enough."  Since when is the government allowed to decide the degree to which speech is religious in order to determine if it will be permitted?

    I wonder if it’s because there really aren’t any widely recognized secular symbols of Hanukkah that can be substituted for the menorah (dreidels? latkes?).  Why, if we didn’t classify a menorah as "secular," children wouldn’t be allowed to experience Hanukkah-based art projects at all.   Whereas Christmas always has jolly old St. Nicholas. 

    I mean Santa.  Strike that last bit.