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].


  • Great piece on the Pill in Christianity Today.

    It’s worth a read.

    As I continued to take the little pill daily for another three years, it became harder and harder to swallow. I grew uneasy with the minuscule chance—be it one in a million of millions—that my womb might turn away a cluster of 128 or 256 cells knitted together in the image of God.

    This sense of discomfort never evolved into an absolute dogma: I still wouldn’t say that taking contraceptives is a sin. But I questioned the assumptions I found underneath my pill popping.

    What did my daily habit say about my faith in the One who reduced himself first to a cell, then two, then 128, then 256 and more, then to a defenseless baby—and whose door is always open for helpless intruders like me?

    H/t Amy Welborn.


  • Gender linguistics.

    An interesting, and occasionally humorous, comments thread at Althouse.

    Screw socionormative.  I can’t wait to use weenie-wagger!

    Cheers, Victoria

    This, and "ze/hir," and what the "A" stands for in "BGLTSA," and many other topics.


  • Are rights natural, or constructed?

    More discussion on how we wound up with 4 Catholics on the Supreme Court, with one nomination pending, over at Althouse.   Is it because the Catholic tradition of natural law and of canon law and of legal thinking has produced a particular kind of legal scholar well-suited for the bench? 

    Here’s what I found interesting.  Ann writes (partly in the post, partly in the comments) that the liberal position ought to be that rights are natural, something that we all have because we’re human, "as real as things like tables." But, she says, this notion "is dying out" among many on the left.  Instead, rights are viewed by the left as "political constructs," things that exist only insofar as law enshrines them.  Instead, she says, it’s the right who today is insisting that rights are "natural," based on natural law. 

    Maybe so.  I take the natural-rights position myself, that whole "endowed by their creator" thing.  You could also call it the human rights position.  It does seem, doesn’t it, that it is a classical liberal position, to regard "rights" as something that one deserves always, that no government can take away?  (I suppose you could argue that by breaking the social contract, one naturally forfeits certain of those rights.)

    I have seen explicit arguments, in print, that people may have no rights that are not granted to them by law.  One example that I remember vividly came from an op-ed in the University of Minnesota’s student paper, oh, about  five years ago.  I remember it because I wrote a letter in response.  The op-ed writer was writing about abortion.  She wrote that unborn humans have no right to be born, and the proof is simple:  the law doesn’t recognize any such right, therefore they don’t have it, and no one can claim that there is such a right.

    Normally op-eds supporting abortion rights, common as pennies, aren’t something I bother with.  But the proof she offered was new to me.  I’d never heard any liberal writer make the argument that merely repealing a law can destroy a human right.   I have to admit I found it fascinating.  So I wrote a letter asking how it could ever be possible that a government could violate human rights.  What’s the point of Amnesty International?  If torture is legal in this or that country, well, then, those folks don’t have the right to be free of torture.  The Taliban (this was back when they were still around) does not violate the right of women to an education or to freedom of movement — those women just have fewer rights than we do, and thus shouldn’t expect anything better.  People in North Korea or China shouldn’t complain about bad laws — where does their government say they’re allowed to?  And so on and so on.

    My point was that human rights are, by definition, the kind that no government can rightfully take away, no group of people has the authority to remove from any other.   There are two ways to justify removing human rights from an individual:  (1) to argue that the individual has forfeited that right of his own will (if this is even possible — many would disagree), (2) to argue that the individual is not, in fact, human.   

    Or you could take the tactic that there is no such thing as a human right.  The danger of this position seems pretty obvious to me — if the political construct you cherish can be dismantled, then so someday might the political construct I cherish.

    Where’s it come from?  Is it just a rejection of the idea of Creator (because what other source of natural rights could there be?) and an elevation of Government to that position?  Or is it because the rights-as-political-construct people (whether Left or Right) are aware that their ends require the abrogation of rights that are cherished by other people as natural, and they are confident that they can contain the destruction to only those rights that they are willing to give up themselves?


  • Birds, bees, and cigars.

    Anonymous Teacher Person at Scrutinies recently had The Talk (well, one of them) with her four-year-old.   

    Inspired by the lovely little book, Angel in the Waters, Caspian [not his real name] has been asking all sorts of fun questions about what the baby does inside the mommy and how the baby gets there. Which led to a particularly colorful misunderstanding on my part.

    She concludes that she shouldn’t listen to George Carlin anymore.  Read it…


  • Lectio divina.

    Amy Welborn points to Pope Benedict’s encouraging us to pray the scriptures:

    I want to mention the spread of the ancient practice of "lectio divina," or spiritual reading, of sacred Scripture. It consists of meditating fully on a biblical text, reading and rereading it, "ruminating it" in a certain sense, as the Fathers write, and squeezing all its "juice" so that it nourishes meditation and contemplation and, like sap, is able to irrigate concrete life.

    How do you practice lectio divina?  I Googled it and looked around.  Here is an introduction.  It’s a specific technique of reading and meditation.  I’ll sum up:

    1. Choose a text of the Scriptures to read and pray.
    2. Sit comfortably and become silent and open.
    3. Lectio:  Read the text slowly and "listen" for a word or phrase from it that speaks, to you, today.
    4. Meditatio:  Memorize the word or phrase and repeat it slowly, "allowing it to interact with your inner world of concerns, memories and ideas.  Do not be afraid of ‘distractions’…. parts of yourself which, when they rise up during lectio divina, are asking to be given to God along with the rest of your inner self."
    5. Oratio:  Speak to God, giving Him what you have found in your heart.
    6. Contemplatio:  Rest and rejoice in God.
    7. Repeat steps 3-6, if time permits.

    I’m tempted to come up with a spiffy mnemonic to remember the four parts of the exercise, something like ACTS (adoration, contrition, thanksgiving, supplication) after reception of the Eucharist.    "El-moc" doesn’t seem to work very well.

    This form of scripture reading has been around since a Carthusian monk came up with it in the 12th century.  It is part of the discipline of Benedictine life. 


  • Are Catholic judges held to the same standards as Catholic legislators?

    Amy Welborn sums up a blogosphere debate.  Is a Catholic judge bound by his faith to rule against abortion rights or same-sex unions or what have you?

    I say no.  Are you surprised?  It has to do with the prescribed roles of legislators and judges in the United States.

    Simply put, legislators’ role is to make laws.  Judges’ role is to interpret the laws given them by the legislature.

    It is voluntary cooperation with evil to use one’s position as a legislator to vote for an evil law. 

    It is not, generally, voluntary cooperation with evil to write of an evil law, "It is compatible with the constitution," if that is the correct finding.  Nor is it, generally, voluntary cooperation with evil to write of an evil action, "It is not against the law as it is written," if that is the correct finding.  These are mere findings of fact.  It is possible for an articulate judge to craft an opinion that drips with disgust and disdain for a law and points out all the things that are evil about it,while simultaneously upholding it as constitutional.

    There may be a few very specific situations in which to rule correctly (from a legal standpoint) would constitute voluntary cooperation with evil.   What kind of situation might this be?  I suppose that obvious tyranny on the part of the whole government might be one.  It would have to be a situation in which the judge, playing by the rules laid out for him, is incapable of any action that is not an inherently evil one.    But in such specific situations, the judge (who is a free person, remember) has an option to recuse himself, perhaps in protest. 

    We foresee that most judges will need to recuse themselves for one reason or another at times; this does not preclude their competence to judge the majority of cases that come before them.

    A note on legislators.  Some people believe that a legislator is bound to vote according to the likely majority vote of the people she represents.   By this argument, the legislator has to vote for an evil law if that is what the people want her to do, and is absolved from the evil because an authority higher than herself has commissioned it.  This is faulty moral reasoning; no person may commit an evil act at the behest of his employer.  No authority is legitimate at the moment it commands the commission of an evil act or cooperation with one. 

    Besides, American law has no tradition that binds a legislator in this way.  The legislator’s  mandate is to represent the people in all the acts of legislating, which includes not only the casting of votes but the careful consideration of how to vote.   

    On the other hand, the judiciary is bound tightly by a restrictive definition of its role, which is interpretation and reconciliation of existing law and existing precident.  A judge does not really act, he analyzes and extracts truth.  This cannot be an evil act, even if the truth extracted is unpleasant or if others use it to commit evil acts.


  • “The typical American woman, of whatever age, height, weight, race, color, creed, or walk of life, is a profoundly confused creature.”

    A manifesto worth reading from Francis Porretto at Eternity Road.

    As I wrote in the comments, I think Porretto paints his "typical American woman" with a caricaturist’s brush, and he really should call her the "typical well-educated, upper-to-middle-class American woman…"  but he makes accurate points about certain social pressures.  Here are some he cites:

    • The female horror of aging.
    • The female fear of male infidelity and sexual caprice.
    • The numerous publications marketed solely to women, all of which promote some consumption- or glamor-based approach to achieving love and happiness.
    • The endless lists of products pressed upon women for beauty or glamor enhancement, all of which carry a subliminal message.
    • The pressures upon women to emulate male sexual aggressiveness and male proclivity toward polyamory.
    • The pressures upon women not to have children, against all the urgings and needs of their bodies.
    • The insistence by various cultural elements that, despite women’s yearnings for male companionship, support and protection, "a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle" — that women owe it to themselves to be independent of men, and that any compromise on that "ideal" is a form of self-betrayal, and the betrayal of the female sex.

    The synergy among these pressures could unhinge any woman. That we have as few female lunatics and child murderesses as we do speaks to some hidden reserve of endurance in the American woman’s psyche.

    Domenico at Bettnet (h/t) calls the post "thought-provoking."  I always think that is a bit of a cheat, when you don’t say what thoughts are provoked (much like "evocative" — what does it evoke?  or "progressive" — to what end is it progressing?)   So when I agree with Dom I’ll say what it provoked in me:

      I have to be careful when I read stuff like this or it makes me feel very smug that I got married and decided to stay home with my kids.   Smug = not good.

    — He’s really fortunate that the conversation with the "female colleague" he describes — the one where he tells her "It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you"  — didn’t end in a charge of sexual harassment.   (I believe his account of the conversation, which is not a harassing conversation, but ooooh, he’s lucky he didn’t get in trouble for that.)

    Do I look at sexily- or downright-immodestly-dressed, attractive women with "unconcealed resentment?"  I saw this one woman yesterday when I was out with my kids — it was 45 degrees outside and she was wearing a midriff-baring top and a cutoff skirt with a hem that grazed the lower curve of her buttocks.  Her friends were wearing fleeces and jeans.  She must have been freezing.  Silly girl.  Hm, does that count as resentment?

    Read it and tell me what you think..


  • Oatmeal cookies.

    There’s a recipe at the bottom of this post.  They are some of Mark’s favorites.  Think I’ll make some for him this week, minus the nuts, plus chocolate chips.

    I like raisins, myself.


  • Simplifying.

    Melissa commented to me yesterday that it seems we’ve all been cooking a lot more simply lately. 

    It surprises me to think of it, but she’s right.  I used to make curries, for example, all the time, mixing the spices myself and serving two or three dishes plus a raita.  I used to do a Szechuan-type stir fry once a week or so, with a lovely homemade sauce.  I used to make complicated French stews.  I used to make tostadas with home-fried tortillas, black beans cooked all day in spicy broth, and an array of freshly sliced vegetables.  I used to make authentic clam chowder and, oh, all kinds of lovely, complicated things.  Every week I would try two or three new recipes, because I liked to have a great deal of variety.

    What’s in my kitchen now?  Well, there’s a chicken roasting in the oven, there’s a salad chilling in the fridge, there’s a bag of shelled edamame defrosting on the counter, and there’s some broccoli waiting, unsteamed, in the steamer.  Simple.  (And don’t tell me that the edamame makes it exotic.  The stuff comes frozen, in a bag, on sale at the co-op.  It’s not much different from lima beans.)

    Everything’s gotten simpler.   I do still try a new recipe or two most weeks, sometimes even a fairly involved one.  But most of my meals these days are pretty square:  meat, veg 1, veg 2, veg 3.  Or:  soup, salad.  Or:  pasta, veg sauce, veg on the side.  Or:  omelet, salad.  Or:  all-in-one casserole. 

    Why is this?  It could just be a new phase of experimentation.  (It is nice to perfect and personalize American classics like meatloaf, or chicken with noodles, or tomato soup, or chili.)  And on my part, I’m sure, it’s because I’ve been eating lower-carb for a couple of years, and the meat-veg-veg-veg format works really well for that.  It might be lack of time, or lack of creativity, or just an inclination these days to concentrate on ingredients and taste each one, clearly and simply.



  • Lileks on Pink Floyd.

    I’m amused (but not to death).   We listened to a lot of Floyd in college.  Mark would turn up the heartbeat at the start of Dark Side of the Moon to show off his homemade subwoofers.

    Dark Side is brilliant, in the sense that music for the headset stoners can be brilliant, but it’s also overplayed and suffers from the usual lyrical deficiencies of the genre. Say, did you know that people often turn to religion and / or worldly pursuits to dull the pain of existence, with its attendant constant intimations of mortality? S’true, man.

    The target of the massively wealthy rock group’s scorn, however, seems to be men who are reasonably content in their office jobs. If there was any justice the world would have best-selling authors who took time off as a middle manager to write brilliant scathing novels about bitter stick-thin tyros who parlayed three chords and fashionable scorn into a license to get his groinal area pogo’d by interchangeable doxies while he suckled on a magnum of good champagne. Nightly.

    Then again, “The Wall” asked the question that bothers us all: how can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat? To this day I pose the question to Gnat. She, too, has no answer.

    I like Pink Floyd, but I can’t argue.  (Is Jethro Tull next?)


  • Poison control again.

    I’m getting pretty good at this.   Practice makes perfect.  Can I just recommend again that every family program the Poison Control number into all their phones?  Do it now:  it’s 1-800-222-2222.  And here’s the website of the American Association of Poison Control Centers.

    Hello, Poison Control.

    Hello.  My two-year-old son has eaten an unknown quantity, less than four tablespoons I think, of Metamucil brand powdered fiber laxative and dietary fiber supplement.  I am giving him a glass of water right now.

    How long ago?

    I just found him eating it.  About thirty seconds, I think.

    Okay, are there any other warnings on the label?

    It says, In case of accidental overdose call a poison center immediately.  And also, do not take without adequate amounts of liquid or choking may result.

    Okay, well, the choking is mostly aimed at elderly individuals who may have trouble swallowing, and the poison center text is a liability thing.  He will probably be fine.  He may have diarrhea.  If he develops diarrhea, keep him well hydrated.  Also, the stuff can irritate the skin, so watch for any blistering.  If he complains of stomach cramping, you can take him to see a doctor.  Otherwise, he’ll probably be fine.

    So diarrhea is possible, but a bolus of fiber won’t cause constipation?

    Probably not. 

    I guess I’ll carry a couple extra changes of pants with us today.  I’m also beginning to think that "Poison Control" should be one of my categories.