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].


  • Occupying the toddler while working with the kindergartener.

    How do you occupy a toddler while doing schoolwork with an older child?  It’s easy if the older child can read or work independently, but a five-year-old needs help focusing — and that’s two children at once.

    Basement_and_birthday_016  I liked this scene from yesterday —so much that I took a picture.

    Oscar is studying math.  Milo, buckled into a high chair, is stacking blocks.  (It’s the Montessori "pink tower" in a non-pink version, from here, for those of you who are interested in manipulatives.)

    Typically, I put Milo in the high chair when I start Oscar’s schoolwork, and hand him some materials to work with.  This keeps him busy enough that I can help Oscar.  When Milo starts to throw the blocks, or whatever, I take them away and give him something else — construction paper and scissors, or a pad and pencil, or a puzzle. 

    I don’t use the confining high chair at meals — Milo usually sits in a regular chair.  But he doesn’t mind this one, and it keeps him where I can see him.  (Otherwise, I’m bound to find a dozen eggs broken on the kitchen floor ten minutes after Oscar and I start work.)   He likes doing "schoolwork" next to his big brother. 



  • A quick test for tyranny.

    Commenter Gordon at the Volokh Conspiracy asked, in a thread about the French riots, how to tell the difference between terrorism and the justifiable use of arms against tyranny.  The question would also apply to rioting:  how to tell the difference between a deplorable riot and an uprising?

    French textbooks promote violence against "American and Israeli tyranny," and say terrorism is the "weapon of the weak."

    Meanwhile in the U.S. one of the arguments given for the right to bear arms is that they provide a "weapon of the weak" against a possibly tyrannical central government…

    Clearly the first message is odious, while the second message is celebrated by many in the U.S. I’m interested in hearing a clear rational argument why this is so – an argument not based upon "I can’t define tyranny, but I know it when I see it."

    The first question in deciding whether violence against a tyrannical government or perceived oppressor is justified is, of course, "Does this qualify as tyranny?"  (Even if it is a tyranny, the violence may or may not be justified; but if it is not a tyranny, it is certainly not justified.)  Conspirator David Kopel responded in an update, not by defining tyranny, but by offering a test for it:
    In modern application, if a government allows religious freedom for everyone, the evidence is strong (although not absolutely dispositive) that the government is not a tyranny, in part because governments which are tolerant of religious freedom are usually tolerant of many other freedoms.
    Conversely, people who seek a government which will kill all people of a particular race or religion (e.g., Jews) and which will suppress all religions except one particular sect almost certainly is a tyranny.
    Among the legitimate uses of firearms are self-defense by free governments and free citizens against tyranny and against terrorists who are attempting to impose tyranny.
    France is not likely to be a tyranny because tyrannical governments are not usually tolerant of religious freedom.
    I haven’t done the research to determine whether this inductive argument rests on enough cases to be strong, but it sounds plausible to me.
    A few commenters (predictably) point out that this argument relies on the European tradition of moral philosophy.  Kopel based the claim on research of — European religious philosophers!  So this shouldn’t be surprising.  But what’s wrong with choosing the European tradition of moral philosophy to define tyranny?  You have to have some world view to decide anything, and we are  talking about France here.  And the right to religious freedom strikes me as universally embedded in the human condition.
    There I go, spouting about natural rights again!

  • Joking.

    Oscar (disapprovingly):  Why did you buy the strawberry bubble bath?

    Mark:  Because there was a big man there who threatened to beat me up if I bought grape.

    Oscar (wide eyed):  What big man was that?

    Me: Do you think that really happened, or do you think Daddy is telling a joke?

    Oscar:  Did that really happen or are you joking me?

    Mark:  You’ve heard of the Wal-Mart greeter?  This was the Wal-Mart Beater.

    Oscar:  Is Daddy joking me?


  • 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.