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].


  • Moving the furniture.

    Some time ago I attended a talk at our local Catholic homeschooling co-op, a lecture entitled "The One-Room Schoolhouse."  My friend The Road Scholar has put together an entertaining and informative presentation about how the teachers in American one-room schoolhouses in the late 1800s and early 1900s taught their subjects, managed their time, and maintained discipline in classrooms with dozens of children and young people who might be aged 3 through 20.  She  drew from her own family history and from primary sources like teachers' record books and employment contracts, and included lots of photographs as well as a sample daily schedule and a formidable sample eighth-grade graduation examination. (If you're currently looking for a speaker, I believe she's available for presentations to homeschooling conferences…)

    It turned out to be very inspiring, not in the spiritually uplifting sense, but in the kick-in-the-pants sense.  As in, If a twenty-year-old high-school graduate could provide quality instruction to twenty kids from kindergarten through eighth grade in the same room, then I can sit my five-year-old daughter and my eight-year-old son next to each other and teach them, too.

    There had been so much sniping and bothering each other, and also of each one disappearing from the schoolroom the instant I turn my back to attend to the other, that I had allowed my school day to become like this:

    MORNING:  Teach the eight-year-old, ignore the five-year-old

    NOON:  Hashslinging, decompressing

    AFTERNOON:  Teach the five-year-old, repeatedly shout at the eight-year-old to get back here and finish your independent work

    (Meanwhile, my eleven-year-old chugged through his to-do list without any input from me.  That kid spoils me.  But I should point out that he probably deserved more attention from me than he's been getting.)

    I sat down and thought about the differences between my schoolroom and the stereotypical One Room Schoolhouse.  

    (This is my schoolroom looking its absolute best:)

    6a00d8341c50d953ef0133f251090e970b-800wi

    There are a lot of them.  I don't have a big chalkboard, because I use lap-sized dry erase boards or printouts.  I have a thermostat instead of a woodstove.  I can send people around the corner to watch videos if that seems like a good idea.

    But probably the biggest difference is that my schoolroom has no place for me.

    In the one-room schoolhouse, the children sit and work facing the teacher, and the teacher works standing at the board or seated at a desk facing the students.  She can see all of  them at once, and this is true even if she is working one-on-one with a student at the front.

    My schoolroom has no "front of the room."  There is a countertop on which I prepare my lessons, but no place at the front for me to stand or sit.  Typically when I work with a child one-on-one, I pull up a chair next to him at his desk.  This works great for the child to whom I am attending, but then my back is to the others.  Distraction ensues.

    It isn't that I want to create "school-at-home."  I don't.  But right now I need to borrow a technique for helping two squirrely children stay on task while I work with them in turns.  

    Fortunately, the desks move (and are the same height and a carefully chosen aspect ratio):

    0306121335-00

    It's not great, but it is the best I could do in a pinch.

    See the desk with the dry erase board and marker on it?   I can stand or sit there.  Now my five-year-old can sit directly across from me, and my eight-year-old can sit at the desk on the right.   The eleven-year-old still has access to his desk on the left, although he has proven himself focused enough to be allowed to work anywhere in the house that suits him.

    I've been making my five- and eight-year-old plow through their work at their own desks, and insisting that they get permission before getting up to use the bathroom or get a glass of water.  (Trust me, they have plenty of opportunity; it is just that there has been a disturbing trend of conversations like this:

    ME:  Hey, 8-year-old, would you mind—

    8YO: I have to go to the bathroom!!!!

    [running feet]

    [faraway slam]

    [silence for the next 20 minutes])

    And I have a big basket of already-sharpened pencils on the counter behind me, so that excuse is gone.

    With the two of them right in front of me, it is much easier to work with them in turns.  When my daughter finishes a task, I can see it, and I can turn around and grab another assignment or at least a book for her to read.  When my son casually leans back to try and peek around the corner to see what his toddler brother is doing, I can catch him out.  For the most part, I can keep them on task, at least better than before.

    There is a lot of moping, and a lot of "Can't you make her be quiet?!?" but I am determined to allow them to learn how to work in the same room with each other, respecting each other's space and cultivating patience for the inevitable distractions.   Fortunately the bottoms of the desks are built like enclosed boxes, so they literally cannot kick each other under the table.  

    It's not that long.  Only about an hour in the morning and less than two hours in the afternoon.  With plenty of bathroom and glass-of-water breaks — between subjects.

    Speaking of subjects, I've aligned their subjects together now — which is to say that the 8yo works on his catechism during the same block of time that the 5yo listens to or reads Bible stories, that the 8yo has math lesson while the 5yo does math worksheets and vice versa, the 8yo writes in his journal while the 5yo prints in her copybook, and they both do independent reading at the same time.  

    This works shockingly more efficiently than my previous model, which was to teach one while the other (theoretically) worked quietly and independently.  The problem is that neither one of them seems to be developmentally ready to sit and work independently without help — not help with the math problems or sounding out words, but help staying on task.  Does it sound unrealistic to have a five- and eight-year-old sitting in chairs being directly taught for a two-hour stretch?  Trust me, it is more unrealistic to expect this five- and eight-year-old to decide where and how to sit and what order to do their work in, and yet complete their daily tasks.

    Still many bugs to be worked out, but I've got something that's going pretty well for these middle two right now.

    (And in case you are wondering what I am doing with the toddler, the answer is that I am coping as best I can.  He has a little table around the corner.  Today it has Play-Doh on it.  Tomorrow it may be something else.  I'm not above a video or two if it comes to that.  Sometimes I am lucky and he goes down for a nap just in time for afternoon school.)

     



  • “My Life as a Prison Wife.”

    Fascinating.  Inspiring.  Perspective-producing.  This short guest piece by Nicki Stapleton on the "Dear Wendy" advice column is worth a read.

    We got married on April 4th and just over a month later, on May 13th, my husband was arrested for armed robbery of two pharmacies. He didn’t take any money — just pills (and he didn’t actually have a weapon). I knew that he had a prescription drug problem but had been clean for over three years (he got clean about six months before we started dating) and I thought he was still clean. I was livid that he broke the law. I was livid that he didn’t come to me for help, but he said he was worried I would leave him because three things I don’t tolerate are abuse, cheating, and drugs.

    I was a criminal justice professional (I lost my job because of my husband’s arrest and conviction) and have a Master’s degree in criminal behavior. In four years of working with offenders, I have seen relationships survive prison but I have seen many more fall apart. If I had known that he was going to be arrested a month after our wedding (or at any point), I wouldn’t have married him. I love him, but love isn’t always enough. Less than nine months after he was arrested, and eleven months after we were married, my husband was sentenced to prison….

    The main question I get all of the time is “How do you remain faithful?” I used to take offense to this question, but I realize people are just curious. The answer is simple for me: I meant my vows. 

    Read the whole thing.

    An interesting clarification about her job loss from the comments:  

    I worked in a halfway house for sex offenders and had worked there for over 4 years. After he was convicted, I filed a fraternization exemption request (one of our policies was no one was allowed to be in a relationship with/live with/be involved with anyone who was under the supervision of the Department of Corrections) and they basically told me that they refuse to make any exception to the rule and told me either I had to not live with or speak to my husband or I had to leave. Thankfully I was already working elsewhere full time and was only working there on weekends.

    The rest of the comments are worth reading too.  I wish her and her husband well.


  • What grammar curriculum we use.

    A reader just sent me a question:

    What grammar book/series do you use? As you've noted on your blog about your dissatisfaction with pre-packaged science curriculum, grammar is my (and my husband's) "thing", so we're probably hoping for something that doesn't exist out there (grammar is so much my husband's "thing" that when he started teaching Latin at the local Catholic seminary, he wrote his own textbook because he wasn't satisfied with any out there).

    But I long-distance respect what you do, and I just thought I'd ask. We register at Kolbe Academy, entirely for the paper-trail it affords us, and then proceed to apply their "principle of subsidiarity" to substitute just about every single thing in their curriculum–either for same-series-but-higher-level, or for completely-different-book. I'm not averse to supplementing, cobbling together, etc. 

    My answer:

    Oh goody, here is a question I can answer.

    The big disclaimer here is that H., my English-major partner in co-schooling, has always managed the grammar. She teaches it from the (free! online!) K.I.S.S. Grammar books by Dr. Ed Vavra.

    (Warning: the website looks like it was designed in 1995.)

    You can download workbooks from the website and then print them. We printed them double-sided and took them to a copy shop to be spiralbound, and then worked with them as if they were conventional workbooks (which makes them not exactly free, I guess, by the time you pay for binding). The grade levels are not exact and have to do more with the reading level of the texts used for analysis

    I personally find it hard to navigate the website. It is probably easiest to choose which workbook to use if you just download the workbooks as .doc files from the links on this page and then open them in Word and page through them.

    I don't think H. even bothered to print out the answer key pages for the books, because she didn't need them, but they are there if you want them.

    Check them out and let me know what you think. I really think the K.I.S.S. Grammar is a hidden gem.  We have been particularly pleased with how well it dovetails with teaching Latin.  I recognize that a traditional, analytical grammar curriculum doesn't please everyone, but if you're doing Latin or a similarly heavily inflected language, it really saves teaching time overall, I think.

     

    UPDATE:  Here is a little extra information from H. who does the actual teaching, answering a mutual friend who was asking about using it for her 10-year-old son.

     …It should work well to learn along with the kids. The first few levels of KISS are a level of grammar that any person literate in English will be familiar with, so the learning part will be to learn the marking procedures and vocabulary if that is rusty. Once you get the hang of the marking, it should be smooth sailing. Either review the provided answer key before he does the sheet or complete the exercise yourself and use that as the answer key. ( I cheat and don't often use the answer key because of unnecessary grammar nerdiness). 

    In the first level, he'll only be explaining the basic 'skeleton' of the sentence: subject, verb, and the broad class called complements which includes direct and indirect objects, predicate adjectives and predicate nouns. KISS adds to the level of analysis fairly slowly. The kids get to watch themselves being able to explain more and more of the words in the exercise as they move through the program. [Our kids, age 12 and 11] have been working through it for three years. When they began they explained only two words in each sentence. Now they have gotten to the point that they can explain all the words in most sentences, even ones written by people like Jules Verne and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

    KISS doesn't spend a lot of time on explaining analysis– it spends most of its time on making them perform the analysis, which is why I love it. 

    The material covered with the program is found in the links at the bottom of the "workbooks" page that are called the Master Collection of Exercises. The material is divided into six levels, which are subdivided into concepts.

    • Level One covers basic grammar, like subject/verb, prepositional phrases, adjectives and adverbs, pronouns, complements to the verb, compounding, and punctuation.
    • Level Two helps the kids through problems they may have encountered when applying the concepts in Level One. It introduces concepts like understood subjects, embedded prepositional phrases, phrasal verbs, and infinitives.
    • Level Three is primarily concerned with main and subordinate clauses in all their variations, and the function of subordinating conjunctions. 
    • Level Four covers gerunds and infinitives (in all their grammatical functions as single words, and also when they function as ellipsed or reduced clauses in the conditional or subjunctive)
    • Level Five practices everything they have previously learned and teaches the noun absolute as an extension of appositives.
    • Level Six allows for integrating their grammar practice into their wider reading, writing,and literature studies.

    The grade 2 workbook covers levels 1 and 2. The grade 3 workbook also covers levels 1 and 2 plus a few constructions from other levels. The grade 6 workbook covers levels 1-4.

    The main difference between the grade levels is the type of text they are given to analyze. A typical grade 2 text is taken from Beatrix Potter, Thornton Burgess, etc. A typical grade 6 text may be from Howard Pyle, Longfellow, Frances Hodgson Burnett, or Robert Louis Stevenson.

    The main thing to remember is that if you start with the grade 3 workbook, you *won't* repeat level 1 or level 2 when you move on to the grade 4, 5,or 6 workbook. You will skip the pages of that workbook that introduce level 1 and 2 concepts. You'll start at the level 3 exercises unless you think he needs review of the last concepts studied. They should never quit marking the things they've already learned about as they learn new things, so practice of older concepts is built-in.

    …There's no particular reason to start [a 10-year-old] in [the 4th grade level] if his comprehension and vocabulary are advanced. I bet you could start with the 6th grade book. Here is the first question of the first exercise from four different grades:

    Grade 2:

     1. The three little rabbits lived in the woods.

    Grade 3:

    1. Grethel shared her bread with Hansel.

    Grade 4:

    1. A King and Queen were perfectly happy.

    Grade 6:

    1. Her appetite grew amazingly.

    So, not much difference there.

    However, by the eleventh lesson in the sixth grade book the selections are more like this one:

    Perseus wondered at that strange cloud, for there was no other cloud all round the sky; and he trembled as it touched the cliff below. And as it touched, it broke, and parted, and within it appeared Pallas Athene, as he had seen her at Samos in his dream, and beside her a young man more light-limbed than the stag, whose eyes were like sparks of fire. By his side was a scimitar of diamond, all of one clear precious stone, and on his feet were golden sandals, from the heels of which grew living wings.

    The vast majority of the texts are taken from classics, and I can't think of objectionable material off hand in the sixth grade lessons outside of fairy tale violence like "Bluebeard", etc. I'm using a mix of 6th, 8th, and 9th grade lessons with the 11, 12, and 14 yr olds I'm teaching. Last year they all used the 3rd grade workbook, and they've had no trouble jumping from that to the higher grades material.

    So there you go.


  • Obedience in dissent, with cultural notes.

    Simcha has a great post today.  

    (Beginning to think I should just have a category called DIRECT LINKS TO SIMCHA FISHER AND MARK BARNES.)

    A reader asks her, 

    I feel that I am a faithful Catholic- attend Mass, pray regularly, try to follow the Church in all things. But I fall short on this with one issue- I do disagree about the Church’s stance on homosexuality and gay marriage. My beloved sister is a lesbian…I cannot/ do not look at what my sister is doing as wrong. I’m happy she found someone she loves to spend her life with. I love her children, and I’m so happy that they exist. My sister and her partner are raising them wonderfully…

    Sometimes conservative Catholic bloggers will talk about how they struggled with a Church teaching, but the post always ends with how they changed, and saw the light, and saw the truth and beauty in the Church’s teachings. But what are you supposed to do when that doesn’t happen?

    There's more than one question wrapped up in that post, of course.  Let me pick one excerpt from Simcha's answer:

    Sometimes people think that the Church requires us all to be prophets with bullhorns, or prissy grand inquisitors — that the only way we can ally ourselves with the Church is to be thoroughly obnoxious.

    Or perhaps we believe that believing something means feeling good about believing it.  These ideas are actually very handy temptations, courtesy of the devil.  They make excellent obstacles to obedience.

    So what is the reader supposed to do?  Certainly not shun or treat her sister, the partner, or the children with disdain; certainly not wish them misery, wish that they hadn’t been born.  Certainly not pick over their house, hunting for evidence of degeneracy.  Depending on the situation, the Church may or may not want the reader to even speak to the sister about her lifestyle, now that it’s so firmly established.

    Read the whole thing.  The main thrust of the post is that we are all dissenters about something or other, to one degree or another, and because of that this is really a universal problem of the human heart.  If we value obedience –to legitimate authority within its legitimate sphere, of course — sooner or later we must come up against some principle we haven't taken to heart.  How do we deal with that?  How do we recognize it?

    But there's also another question here:  The question of how faithful Catholics are to live in a world, and sometimes in families, with a broader definition of "marriage" than we can parrot back.  It is still an open and vague one.  

    For the time being, the official work of the Church in this area is to work to preserve, one way or another, our freedom to assert what we believe to be true about it.  The Church hasn't quite given up the hope that the larger culture can be steered back to an acceptance of something closer to that same truth.

    Now, I don't wish to question the wisdom of this approach heavily, because I am not an expert in pastoral techniques of any kind, let alone large-scale culture-steering.  Cynicism is a fault of mine.  

    But:  I tend to believe that this particular horse has already left the barn, and that it was my fellow heterosexuals who drove it out foaming at the mouth.  I think we are already in dire need for pastoral assistance in dealing charitably and truthfully with the world around us here.  It is NOT easy, as Simcha's reader's situation (and countless others) demonstrate.

     In many ways it's not new:  Families everywhere have always hosted an endless stream of intra- and inter-familial messages along the lines of "If you do not take steps to demonstrate your approval of my actions, that is the same to me as a demonstration that you do not love me."  If there is any difference now, it's that much more often the "approval" runs against values that transcend the merely cultural or habitual.   We expect family members to get used to a "black sheep" who merely dressed embarrassingly unconventionally, or pursued a career different from the expected one, or joined the "wrong" political party, or married a person from a different class or ethnic group, or wanted to move too far away or stay too close to home.   But — and this is still a strong, widely held value in the United States — it's entirely different to expect people to "get used to" being asked to deny, explicitly or implicitly, publically or privately, their religious beliefs.  

    Don't we all get impatient with the bishops sometimes?  I think we're long overdue for some real pastoral advice on how to live, and how to love others, in a world where regular denial of our religious beliefs is expected of us — both through public economic acts and through ordinary social rituals.

    It's love and truth.  They are never in conflict — not really.  One without the other is impossible.  But we ordinary, foolish humans can screw it up royally, trying to carry them both like a burden, and end up delivering neither.


  • Home care.

    Megan McArdle has a piece on healthcare cost-cutting and hospitalization stay-length:

    If you've been wondering about the rather light posting schedule, here's most of the explanation: two Saturdays ago, my mother's appendix burst.  It was a lengthy, draining saga that fouled up a rather full writing schedule.  We just brought her home from the hospital today; she'll be staying with us while she finishes a course of IV antibiotics.  Luckily, we're both writers with a great deal of flexibility about where we can work, and we have a spare bedroom, and the means to purchase a bed for her to stay on.

    Hospital costs were a huge political issue throughout the 1970s.  Jimmy Carter unsuccessfully tried to pass price controls, but ultimately, the government settled on a system that paid a fixed reimbursement for a given class of problem, rather than just paying the hospital for however long they'd care to keep patient. (A system known as Diagnostic Related Groups, or DRGs).  The length of hospital visits dropped like a stone–from an average of 7.5 days in 1980 to 4.8 today.  Most of that change was accomplished by 1995.


    I know all the reasons why this is a good idea.  Hospital days are unbelievably expensive.  And hospitals are not fun places to be.  They're noisy and the amenities aren't too great.  They're also a great place to pick up a hospital acquired infection–and hospitals are the primary vectors for really nasty drug resistant bacteria.

     

    But it's hell on the families–the web is full of people who are at their wits end because the hospital just dumped Mom on them even though Mom can't really walk or use the toilet.

    …One way to think about it is that we made a policy choice to save money by turning family and friends into parahealth professionals.  In my case, I think that's the right choice: I'm happy to take care of my mother, and I understand the cost pressures that made this desirable.

     

      The problem is, most people didn't participate in that choice.  There was no public debate over whether we should send elderly patients home in terminal condition to families with no training as health workers.  We just said "let's cut hospital costs!" and everyone said "Yay!" and then some folks in a back room decided that this was the way to do it. 

     

    So "one way to think about it" is that lately we have "made a policy choice to save money by turning family and friends into parahealth professionals."  Another way to think of it is that, long ago, we made a policy choice to spend money — and ostensibly to provide better care — by professionalizing convalescent, hospice, and recovery care, which used to be done (for better or worse) by family members.

     

    This doesn't purport to be an argument for or against insurance coverage of longer hospital stays, just a musing on some unintended consequences.

     

    I have no doubt that a lot of people would be better off cared for by hospital staff than by family members.  And many people have no one to care for them at all.  

     

    But I think it's worth remembering that "sickroom care" was once a natural part of homemaking, and families used to have the skills to care for relatives who were suffering from a wide variety of ailments.  We're talking about something that is a lost art, not an impossible art.  Old homemaking manuals used to have chapters about it (here's one); sometimes even cookbooks would.  There was one around the house when I was a child — heaven knows where it came from — and I used to read the "sick room" chapter with fascination — how to clean and sterilize a bedpan and wrap it in a neat package of clean newspaper to keep it read y for use, and the importance of giving the patient as much privacy as possible (even if that is only turning your face casually away) while he or she uses it;  how many visitors are appropriate; what to do with infectious garbage; how often to change the sheets; how to avoid bedsores.

     

    Homemaking manuals don't seem to have this chapter anymore.

     

     It seems pretty obvious that when people grow to expect professionals to do the work of caring for the sick, both the recovering and the dying, then that work is no longer seen as the proper expertise of loved ones.  Either it is above them (and doctors and professional nurses should do it) or it is below them (and health care techs and janitors should do it).  

    Maybe one way to lower costs, and improve care at the same time, is to invest in caregiver support rather than hospital stays.  

    Is it better that hospital care be available?  Obviously so, at least for many cases.  It's hard, though, not to see some parallels to the home birth movement.  Sometimes people choose to forgo technology, professional health care workers, and a sterile environment, because they have an alternative:  human hands, loved ones who (unprofessionally) love them and desire the best for them, and a familiar home environment.  When it becomes the norm to professionalize a caregiving environment, surely a great many people have better outcomes (especially those who do not have the alternative) – but there are also a large class of people who won't really have "better" outcomes and who will have lost out on a real opportunity for human connection, human relationship building, the experience of relying on others or of caring for others because that's what human beings do.

    Maybe we need a home convalescence movement, or a home hospice movement, the way we have a home birth movement.   (If that's so, then we could use some "midwives:"  experienced and caring, but not necessarily professionally trained and licensed, women and men whose passion is to help people help themselves in their own homes.)  It's surely not for everyone, but it could well be — for more people than realize it.

    UPDATE:  Oh goodness, a McArdle-lanche.  Welcome to my hastily-tossed-off post.  You may be interested in other posts partly inspired by discussions at Megan's blog, many of which are in my weight loss category.  There is also politics (lately material about the HHS contraception mandate) and homeschooling.


  • Fasting in Paradise.

    Melanie has dug up a quote that suggests the Genesis "don't eat that fruit" rule amounted to a prescribed fast:

    "Fasting restores to those who practice it the father’s house from which Adam was cast out… God himself, the friend of man (Wsd 1,6), first entrusted to fasting the man he had created, as to a loving mother, as to a teacher. He had forbidden him to taste of one tree only (Gn 2,17) and if the man had observed this fast he would have dwelt with angels. But he rejected it and so found anguish and death, the sharpness of thorns and thistles and the sorrow of a miserable life (Gn 3,17f.) Now, if fasting is shown to be of value in Paradise, how much more must it be so here below to win us life eternal!". 

    (Link: http://thewinedarksea.com/index.php/weblog/on_fasting/ )

    It is a fruitful meditation. I wrote about a similar theme some time ago, only I identified the forbidding of the Edenic fruit as a "dietary law" rather than a fast:

    "Which takes me to the Garden of Eden. How many times have you read or heard a non-Christian, non-Jewish person complaining of the arbitrariness of that whole "tree of the knowledge of good and evil" nonsense? Why would God care if they ate this one fruit? There's no good reason for it — whoever wrote it down even made a point of mentioning that the stuff was good to eat, so what's the big deal? Alternatively, you'll occasionally see a well-meaning believer defending the don't-eat-that rule on some practical ground of healthfulness or learning obedience or some such thing.
    I think it's easier to understand the story — and this works both if you take the story as something that really happened, or if you take it as a useful teaching story passed down by one of the world's most influential cultures — as the story of the first dietary law. The first "We eat this, not that. Just because."Pointing at the fruit of the tree while uttering "In the day you eat of it you shall surely die" is not, inherently, any nuttier than pointing at your tablemate's cheeseburger while muttering, "That shit'll kill you." It doesn't matter that the modern health nut thinks that science is on his side — it's still a prediction of religious significance — because in reality the connection between any given cheeseburger and the untimely death of the cheeseburger-eater is practically zero, unless the eater chokes on it, I suppose. And even if a lifetime diet of cheeseburgers will shorten your life, who's to say that's not a reasonable choice for someone who likes cheeseburgers?But let's go back to dietary laws for a minute. It's significant that the breaking of a dietary law should play such a crucial role in the stories I'm speaking of. And it's not something that's alien to human nature either. There are many layers to the story, but I can't help but think that it's in part a lesson that there are limits to our natural inclinations. The tree's fruit was "good to eat," and there is no reason to assume the senses of the man and woman couldn't be trusted. Yet, as the story goes, it was better, in that place and in that time, to choose not to eat it. Resisting, if only on occasion, what we naturally want and can see is a good thing, must itself be something good. And doesn't that fit with our ordinary experience?"

    (link: http://arlinghaus.typepad.com/blog/2010/04/dietary-laws.html )

    One difference between a dietary law and a fast is that a dietary law is generally lifelong — see the regulations of keeping kosher or halal, or the philosophy of an ethically committed vegetarian. Fasts, on the other hand, are generally temporary. In Jewish history, the permanence and complexity of the dietary law served many purposes — among other things, to provide a concrete manifestation of identity among the chosen people, to clearly demarcate them from the peoples that surrounded them.  

    Another difference is that fasting can be regarded as a positive act, and when prescribed, as a positive duty similar to the duties of prayer and almsgiving. To adhere to a dietary law is more like a negative duty, a "thou shalt not." Negative duties are by their nature more binding than positive ones.

    Does it matter whether we identify the forbidding of the fruit as a dietary law or as a fast? Or is it simply a third example of the same sort of class of commandments? Either way it is instructive to meditate upon the words, "for in what day soever thou shalt eat of it, thou shalt die the death."

       



  • A parable.

    Okay, let's say that the governor of a midwestern-to-southern state has an idea for a new, modest-cost, kind of feel-good sort of social program.  Reading scores in his state are low, and especially there seem to be a disturbing number of children who grow up in "text-poor environments," meaning that for one reason or another there aren't many books or magazines or other reading material in their homes.  The governor suggests, "Let's use taxpayer money to send a few new children's books home from the hospital with every new baby born in our state.  It's a token, a small thing, but it will send a pro-reading message, and maybe it will do some good."  The appropriation doesn't turn out to cost all that much, and the political/economic climate is one in which being seen as "anti-book" makes the legislators feel nervous, so the bill passes without much debate.  A few grumpy letters are written to the editor about whether it's just a political stunt, or whether a handful of books will make enough of a difference to be worth the cost, but in the end, this is a small program, and so "Books for Babies" is launched.  New parents love it, the program pleases librarians and educators, local authors are highlighted, it isn't all that expensive, and by and large it's pretty harmless.  A minor kerfuffle ensues when homebirthing parents attempt to claim books for their kids, but it's all worked out by adding involving an alternate way to get books via a letter and a copy of a birth certificate.   Everyone, it seems, is satisfied enough with this small social program to keep it going.

    + + +

    Now let's say that a few years later, the governor of the next state over admires this program and announces a plan to establish a similar one in his own state.  Only this time, things don't go so well in the legislature.  Even though many of the same conditions exist which prompted the first governor to dream up "Books for Babies" — reading scores, children who lack books — the political situation is different.  Government waste and corruption is more in the news, there is a larger faction in the governor's opposition party, there has recently been an expose of unforeseen expensive in innocuous-looking social programs, and people are in a cutting-back mood and suspicious of anything that smacks of feel-good political stunts.  Even though it polls really well among mothers of young children, across all incomes, and especially well among Hispanic voters, this governor's "Texts for Tots" program dies an early death in committee.

    But let's say that this governor is a true believer.  He wasn't trying to put on a stunt — he really thinks that free books for new babies is a great idea, and the polls have him convinced that if he can just get the ball rolling, public opinion will turn and everyone will see what a great win-win situation this is.  Educational costs might even go down, if even just a few more kids on the margin arrive at kindergarten with a positive view of books and reading.  So he looks for a way to do it that doesn't involve the pesky legislative process.

    With a little research, an aide discovers some provisions that allow the state administration to set certain operating rules for businesses in the state, ostensibly to promote accessibility to various services.  The law is broadly enough written that the governor's idea just might work:  require booksellers to provide five free books to new parents on demand — easy, the records office can just send a little piece of paper with the birth certificate, good for five books, any children's books the parents choose from any bookstore they like.   If a parent reports that a bookseller won't honor the paper, the bookstore will have to pay a fine.  

    It's a great idea.  So great, the governor wonders why he bothered with the "Texts for Tots" bill in the first place.  Using a rule is so much easier:  no debate, no votes, no argument.   It's simpler, too — hospitals don't have to stock books, there's no committee to choose which books will be featured, and parents even have the freedom to pick exactly which children's books they want, as long as they're in stock in a physical bookstore somewhere in the state.  Why, some of them will surely become regular customers!  The booksellers will probably make more money in the end.  And if they don't, well, they'll just  raise their prices.  In the end, the cost will be borne by other book buyers, people who love books and certainly will be happy to see a few pennies of each purchase go to promote children's reading in the state.

    The day after the rule is announced, hardly anyone complains.  A state bookseller's association takes a hurried poll of its members and finds that an overwhelming majority want to express support of the bill.  A few small independent bookstores express concern that they'll be swamped with requests, but they are drowned out.  One crotchety old man, the owner of a tiny independent bookstore specializing in global environmentalism, argues that he should not be forced to reward people for reproducing.  He is mostly jeered at, as being "against books for kids," and otherwise ignored.  A few months later it goes into effect.  New parents love it.   Educators love it.  Big bookstores love it and don't even have to raise prices.  Small bookstores in some neighborhoods discover that when parents come in to get their five free books, they usually add several more to their orders.  Small bookstores in other neighborhoods raise their prices and scrape by.  All this without costing taxpayers a dime.  It's perfect.

    + + +

    The next governor has a different pet issue:  chronic, expensive health problems in the state, especially an epidemic of diabetes.   She wants to promote exercise and healthy eating choices, and it's in the news a lot and is a popular issue.  Her program is impressive:  tax breaks for new supermarkets in "food deserts," more tax breaks for quick-serve restaurants that include fresh vegetables and fruits in kids' meals, a revamping of the state school-lunch program, and various educational outreach programs.  Research shows that among several key demographic groups in the state, many people cite "don't know how to cook from scratch" as a major reason why they rely on heavily processed foods that the state has identified as unhealthful.  Wouldn't it be great to get some basic information into those folks' hands?

    A popular local food writer, working with a local cardiologist, has recently published an award-winning cookbook that would fit the bill perfectly.  It's expressly written for people who aren't used to cooking for themselves, and includes lots of basic information: how to select produce, and how to read labels, and how to plan balanced meals on a budget, as well as elementary cooking techniques for beginners — it practically tells you how to boil water.  Even a chapter on how to eat well if you don't have access to a full kitchen.  And every recipe in the book is low in saturated fat and packed with nutrition.  The language is clear, engaging, and uncomplicated.  There are links to free instructional videos on the Internet.  It's a stellar book.  The governor begins to think that this is the book that she wants every family in the state to have on the shelf.

    Now, how to do it… "Hey," suggests one staffer, "you remember how the last governor put out the Texts for Tots rule?"

    There was practically no opposition to the requirement that booksellers give away a certain number of free books.  How hard can it be to require them to give away a particular book? 

    Soon, in a speech to the state association of school nutritionists, the governor announces the new rule:  Booksellers all over the state will be required to give away copies of the wonderful cookbook by the local food writer and the local cardiologist.  If they refuse, they'll pay a fine.  Obviously the booksellers will benefit, because the people who come in to get their free book will probably buy more.  They can always raise their prices a few pennies a book to cover the immediate costs.  The whole state will benefit in a reduction of long-term health care costs and improved quality of life.

    The state booksellers' association hastily conducts a poll and, over a few minor objections, issues a statement in support of the governor's plan.  "Healthy eating is good for everyone in the state," the press release reads.  "We are proud to be a part of this impressive effort to educate the public."

    In a tiny storefront a couple of doors down from the local food co-op, the owner and manager of a store that mainly sells nutritional supplements but also stocks a small selection of vegetarian cookbooks slits open a padded envelope.  Out tumbles one copy of the governor's favorite book, plus a letter explaining the new requirement, the deadlines, a table that provides a suggested number of copies to have on hand, and information about the sliding scale of wholesale prices from the publisher.  Also a couple of glossy brochures about healthy eating, picturing a smiling nuclear family of mixed ethnic heritage sitting down to a picnic lunch.  At the sight of the photos the store owner feels an uncomfortable sinking feeling in his stomach.  He cracks open the paperback book and as if it knew what he was looking for, it opens up to the chapter on delicious, low-fat recipes made with chicken and fish.

    He thumbs through it.  Yeah, there's some lip service paid to the benefits of choosing organic, free range chickens and avoiding overfished species.  But there's no getting around it:  most of the people who read this book are going to be buying conventional frozen boneless, skinless chicken breast from conventional caged chickens from conventional crowded farms, conventional fish from conventional stores.  He has never — never — stocked any cookbooks except vegetarian cookbooks.  Lately he's been forced to confront the inherent cruelty of conventional egg and dairy farms, and has been reluctantly facing up to the truth that his principles really are pushing him towards all-out veganism.  

    The store owner closes the book.  

    He's going to fight this stupid rule.   Even if it means the fines are going to put him out of business.


  • First triple-family co-schooling day in a while.

    It is vaguely embarrassing that we all drive the same car, too. The neighbors must think we belong to some kind of cult. Perhaps someday we can get our own compound.

    photo.JPG


  • A more interesting statistic about Catholics and birth control.

    In one sense, statistics about "who does what" are irrelevant.   The fight to overturn the HHS mandate forcing insurers and/or employers to cover contraception is a fight about religious freedom, and it really doesn't matter how many people use contraception and how many employers object to paying for it directly or indirectly.  

    It is, after all, religious minorities — groups of people who adhere to beliefs that are unusual in the wider society — who require the most protection and who desire the most accommodation in the civil structure.  If your philosophical beliefs and practices are common, ordinary, and widespread — such as making time for worship on the weekends, or eating only non-animal foods, or giving presents to your children on a quiet, at-home Christmas morning — we can assume that there is some accommodation for them built right into the fabric of society, since some of your co-believers will have helped put that society together.  Indeed, if we look around we see that many jobs (though not all) are available which leave room for weekend worship, that Christmas is a day when few people (though not without exception) have obligations outside the family, that vegetarianism is largely accepted and that many eating establishments offer meatless items year-round.

    If you're a member of a religious minority, though, you occasionally may ask for, and legitimately receive, accommodations written into the law.  Laws like the 1993 Religious Freedom Restoration Act, which prohibits the federal government from burdening a person's exercise of religion unless it demonstrates that it does so in furtherance of a compelling government interest AND  is the least restrictive means of doing so.  The mandate doesn't further the government's interest (which is stated to increase "access" to contraception, and that has been shown not to be a problem) and it's not the least restrictive means (which would be something like a rider that an employee can purchase) and so the 1993 law, enacted during the notoriously right-wing Clinton administration, almost certainly renders the HHS mandate illegal.  

    But it's obvious that the media is happy to wave this "98 percent of Catholic women use birth control" statistic around because someone thinks  it matters, or that it will matter if enough people hear it.  I think the idea must be something along these lines: Few Catholics consistently obey the Church's teachings, therefore we can make the nation think that it isn't a "real" or sincere religious belief that deserves accommodation.

    If that's the case, then there is a lot of misdirection going on.  Because of course the freedom that is being infringed here is not the freedom to refrain from taking contraceptive pills or being sterilized.  (The government had to stop forcing people to contracept and be sterilized some time ago… must have been back in the dark ages… oh wait, it was 1981.)

    No, the freedom being infringed is the freedom not to buy pills and sterilization for other people who want them.  So perhaps a much, much better thing to ask is:  "How many Catholic employers and insurers either cover contraceptives in their employee insurance plan or directly pay for them for their employees?"

    Oops, now we have a conundrum.  Because if the number is small compared to the general population of employers and insurers, well then, there just might be something to the argument that Catholic employers and insurers have a real and sincere religious belief that precludes them from paying for other people's contraceptives.  And if the number is similar or large compared to the general population of employers and insurers, well, then, what exactly is the problem that needs to be solved by forcing them?  

    + + +

    But even the question of "how sincere is this religious belief" is misdirected.  There is no test for sincerity in the Clinton-era law protecting the free exercise of religion against the federal government.  

    + + +

    Here is a pair of recent statistics that you may find interesting.  (Via Red Cardigan, who herself found it via Get Religion).  

    Of U. S. Catholics:

    •  Fraction who say they attend Mass once a week or more:  22%
    •  Fraction who say they agree that using artificial means of birth control is wrong:  22%.

    (The first statistic is from CARA, a Catholic think tank.  The second is from a recent CNN poll.)

    Only twenty-two percent of people who call themselves Catholics are going to Mass once a week.  This number is, of course, disturbingly low.  Recall that weekly Mass attendance is, in the Catholic faith, compulsory (though allowances are made, on the honor system, for duties and conditions that interfere with the obligation).  

    Often, when you wish to define who is and who isn't a "practicing" Catholic, weekly Mass attendance is used as a reasonable proxy.  It's a practice that is required by the Church, it is relatively easy to measure, and it is public.  It is debatable whether this is the best proxy, but it is at least convenient.

    The same proportion of Catholics agree with the teaching against artificial birth control.

    + + +

    Let's do a little calculation with estimates using data from the Pew Forum.   Nearly 24% of the U. S. population is Catholic.  Twenty-two percent of that is 5.3% of the U. S. population.  This is only a little bit more than the number of people (4.7%) who belong to non-Christian religions, who, I think most reasonable people agree, deserve careful attention to their religious accommodations because their minority status places them at the margins of public discourse.  Just as unpopular speech is the speech that most needs protection, uncommon exercises of religious belief are those that most need accommodation.

    We are a religious minority.

    It is not what we would choose, but it is the reality we live in.

     


  • Not giving up.

    I thought I'd take a minute to mention that I am not giving up blogging, Facebook, or email for Lent.

    However, the children in a lively discussion last week came to a consensus that a good family Lenten discipline would be to turn off the computers and other devices right before dinner and leave them off until morning. This will undoubtedly cut down on my total output (and input, I suppose).  So:  you've been forewarned. 

    To those who are planning on seriously curtailing your electronic media exposure for the next forty days or so:  Godspeed, and see you at Easter!