The Inside Message is More Important

My husband and I were at a fundraiser for the Little Sisters of the Poor a few nights ago, sitting with a pair of women--sisters, about our ages--at a small table in the back of the room.  Despite the near-capacity crowd, our table for ten just had four guests, probably due to the fact that we called the night before for a reservation--typical us.  The women seated with us were great supporters of the nursing home run by the LSOP, as their uncle had been a resident for many years.   We discussed the usual things strangers discuss:  Education, family, children, parishes, and all that.  Both sisters had been educated in Catholic high schools and colleges.  One had a son, the other had a couple of kids.  We have "only four" we admitted, laughing.  And we homeschool.  I'll leave out the whole conversation that followed, as you have all heard it before.

Then, one of the women made this profound observation:  "So, you are like really Catholic, huh?"

Well, yeah.  I sensed they found real Catholicism quaint.

Which made me think of the whole HHS mandate matter from a Catholic perspective.  Yes, it's an issue that should concern all Americans, because, yes, it's about freedom, the Constitution, the First Amendment, personal responsibility, and all that.  Indeed, this should be, and is now, the message the bishops have sent to the Obama administration and HHS as well as the country.  This is simply the most important message to send to those outside the Church.

But the message to Catholics should be profoundly different.  Those of you reading who have heard a homily about the evils of contraception need read no more; you have heard what the Church teaches.  What a blessing.  See, even if you have decided that the Church is wrong (it is not, by the way), you know clearly where She stands.  How many of us have not heard the message, or have heard it framed as oppression by someone outside--or just as likely, inside--the church?  As I see it, I had an excuse.  When I was younger, I didn't know any better.  I had never--NEVER--heard that the Church forbade things like sterilization or artificial birth control.   I had not been to Catholic schools, but hey!  I had Catholic parents who sent me to a Jesuit parish at a Jesuit college for CCD.  Of course, CCD in the 70s (and now in most parishes) basically meant coloring books about nice things, being nice to each other, thinking nice thoughts, and knowing that "if you are happy, God is happy" so don't worry and follow your conscience.  Well, God must be thrilled with all those folks happily taking the pill!  Woohoo!

I was lucky--no, blessed--to find a friend (who is now my husband) who explained Church teaching to me. I figured I must have been a miserable student not to have heard this message during my faith formation.  So, of course, I was stunned when, during our pre-Cana Engaged Encounter weekend at the local seminary, the priest guiding the group told us to "follow our consciences" on the matter of birth control.  I hadn't missed the message in my youth through poor scholarship; the message wasn't there.

What?  Was there no truth?  Truth??  I wanted to hear it.  Did this priest assume that we had all had our consciences formed in the truth?  Or did he simply not care?  Was he weary of fighting a battle with neither leadership nor comrades?  Or was he neutral, taking no side for fear of alienating the dissenters?  And why wasn't anyone saying anything?

I hate to say it, but Mrs. Pelosi was right about one thing--the Church has failed to teach the truth about so-called birth control.  An entire generation has been so poorly catechized that some, like Mrs. Pelosi, can no longer be reached by the truth.  And now the Church is reaping what it has sown, and put the souls of the faithful in danger.  The message inside the Church can't be simply the same as the wider message meant for non-Catholic Americans.  While we might all agree, as Americans, that there are God-given rights outlined in the Constitution and the Bill of rights, we Catholics need to be told the whole truth plainly and clearly.  For us, it's not just about religious freedom.

Turn to us, Bishops, and teach us that Truth.  And make sure the priests get this memo, too.

For those not willing to wait, the Truth is here.

Lenten Reading, and Arrogance

One of my best friends when I was growing up was Jewish, and I recall the frantic activity in her home just before Passover.  To call it "spring cleaning" would be an understatement.  This was deep, intense cleansing.  The goal?  Eliminate every possible leavened crumb from the home before the Passover began.   Nothing could be swept under the rug.  In fact, the rugs themselves were removed for cleaning.  The end result was a home neat and tidy, and spiritually read for the celebration.

We Catholic have a holy day coming up, too, and how we prepare matters as much to us as it does to devout Jews.  This time of year, when homeschooling moms gather, and the talk turns from wine to Lent, the question always arises:  What are you reading for Lent this year?  Now, reading is not a Lenten requirement, nor a discipline, but it seems to be  common practice as we prepare spiritually for Holy Week.

Coincidentally, this video of Fr. Barron on the dumbing down of Catholics makes a good point:  If we are reading excellent books in other areas, why not excellent Catholic books?



I cannot help but recall an academically tragic event in my son's education.  Towards the end of his senior year, the students were asked to write a reflection on the religion curriculum.  My son wrote of his disappointment.  He was disappointed that an "elite" boys' high school did not require reading the works of St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas.  Like the student Fr. Baron mentions, these boys had hefty tomes for other subjects, but a few intellectually lightweight paperbacks for religion.  He was called to the office of the president of the high school where he was handed back his paper and told he was arrogant.  Arrogant for wanting to read the finest writings in the Catholic tradition.  Leaving aside the question of my son's natural arrogance, isn't there room in a high school religion course for some of these saints?

But if Augustine and Aquinas sound too intimidating (or merely too time-consuming for us busy homeschooling moms!), don't worry; there are other good options.  You don't need to resort to cartoon versions of sacred texts, or any of the watered down "If you are happy, God is happy" texts that fill curriculum slots in dioceses across the country.  Instead, check this out this Lent:

All Things Made New by Stratford Caldecott is much like Catholicism in general:  It can be read on many different levels, and each time one looks one can find something different--an aspect of the faith one has missed before, or the reading of a prayer in such a way that it has a new meaning.  Before you click through to the Amazon page (Note subtle disclaimer here...yes, this is an Amazon Associates link), you should know that a few people have been intimidated by the very excellent reviews of the book, which are rather heavy and even off-putting.  Be not afraid!  This is a book for everyone, even the theological beginner.  It does not have to be read in order, and for Lent I would begin with Chapter 7, which is a thoughtful reflection on the Apostles' Creed, with references to corresponding biblical texts, history, and tradition.  Similar chapters on the rosary, Lord's Prayer, and Stations of the Cross follow, and are all perfect for Lenten reading--perhaps even more perfect for a Catholic reading or prayer group.

The first part of the book is decidedly deeper, but just as compelling.  Spanning creation to revelation,  these chapters reflect heavily on the cosmic order, spiritual life, Platonism, philosophy, St. John's Gospel, and symbolism.  The opening pages may be read at Amazon, and should give you a feeling for how intense the first chapters are.  Again, I think these would be wonderful readings for a discussion group.  I found myself underlining passages, and writing notes in the margins as I read.  And while reflecting deeply on the mysteries of the faith, one finds little room is left for arrogance.  In fact, it leaves one feeling a bit unleavened...and ready.

One more thing.  See the cover?  It's wonderful.  If you are not familiar with the art of Daniel Mitsui, visit his website and take a close look--the closer, the better.  Is it possible for an artist to add more "Creation" in his sacred art?  Look for seastars, squid and skulls... www.danielmitsui.com.

Yet another thing...I am on the board of trustees of the publisher, Angelico Press, but the review is my own.  If I didn't think it worthy of a read, I wouldn't recommend it.

Deeper Nature Study: The Winogradsky Columns of Others (Video edition)

There are plenty of videos on Winogradsky columns...this one is pretty good.





Funny thing, though:  All the videos use the same procedure.  One if the great things about these columns is that there is no correct way to do it.  A variety of procedures may produce a variety of results.  Why not change it up a bit, like we did?

Seems they do them at Bronx Science, too, but again, with the same procedure.  See how this terribly easy project is made to seem so difficult.  But the girls are amusing:

Deeper Nature Study: Winogradsky Update

Last time, we had just set up our columns, and were waiting patiently to see what would grow.  5 days into the project, and here are the before and after photos for A and P's jar:

Day 1

Day 5

As you can see, things are growing!  The muck is blacker, and the blackness has spread to the gravel just below the muck level.  Surprisingly, the egg yolk is not attracting much growth--yet--though the egg shell has a fine black mist over it.  The water at the top of the jar is a bit cloudy.

Check back in a few days for more.  Hey, and if you have a Winogradsky column of your own, send along a few shots, and I'll put them on!

And speaking of things growing in jars...I just made my first batch of cranberry/pomegranate "wine" using this kit:

 Hey, it worked!  The results are less dramatic, but much tastier.

It Matches my Car

It's the newest Nikon...

Can't see the image?  Click here. (Amazon link).

Oh, my.

It's all about the zoom.  And the color.  

Deeper Nature Study: Winogradsky Columns

In the great gold room there were some teenagers

and some gritty sand

and some jars full of sand

and two little boys who didn't use chairs

and some jars and a ghost

and some sprouts, but no toast!



But really, we were winding down from our Winogradsky project.  Yes, you at home can grow lovely pet bacteria in your own jar.  It's easy--so easy that when the teens finished, and the younger kids were totally interested in setting up their own columns.

Winogradsky column (with very watery top) day 1.

We started out at the beach, collecting some samples:  Shells for calcium, water for--well--water, muck for bacteria (we hope!), red sandstone for iron, and some sand for substrate.  Back at the house, Alice had boiled an egg for sulfur...but we were not quite ready to go home yet...

Oh, can't quite see the Storm Trooper.

As we were driving back from the beach, we passed a farm-stand that was closed, and a field that reeked of unharvested Brussel sprouts rotting on the stalk.  Luckily, the ever-stealthy Mr P. had his Storm Trooper Hoodie with him.  He zipped it up so no one would notice him, and stole into the field with his colorfully-dressed friends, plucking a small rotten sprout and a leaf for our nefarious purposes (will it be a better source of sulfur than an egg?).



 Back in Alice's Test Kitchen, we sorted our samples, and added a few ingredients:  Sea salt (coarse), cloves (will they inhibit growth?), fresh water, a magnet to attract magneto-bacteria, and foil for those who want to see samples grown in the dark.

The procedure is simple:

Layer all ingredients in the jar, with an ample supply of cellulose (we used the cardboard from an empty 18-egg box, torn into bits by industrious children).  We started with gravel and sand, added cellulose, egg or Brussel sprout, egg shell or sea shell (crushed), muck from the low tide zone (any black muck or topsoil will do), and odds and ends...a pocket of sea salt, a pocket of pepper, a pocket of ground cloves (anything you can think of!).  And we s-l-o-w-l-y added water, fresh or salt.  Some left lids loose, some tightened their lids.  Some covered the columns with foil for darkness, while some left them in full or dim light.

Since I was busy with the teens doing the project, most of the photos are taken with a younger bacteriologist modeling the process.  Here's Miss C's work:

Note aforementioned ghost.

Isn't it amazing how everything looks delicious in Alice's Test Kitchen, even the muck?

Mr. N and his Winogradsky column--he added a pocket of sea salt in hopes of growing a pink halophile colony.

Youngest boy found the banana a more interesting subject.

 What happens next?  We wait and see what grows.  Check back, and see!

Water the Birds

Silly robins. They love my yard in winter, and now I understand why. I left the outside faucet dripping, and fresh water is as important as food when it comes to attracting birds, especially when the weather is freezing.

I Was a 5th Grade Unschooler

Problem was, I went to school.

This past Christmas, my mother brought over a pile of my childhood stuff, and my 5th grade report card was in there.  I was in a gifted program, but you would not know it from my grades:  I got a C in literature.  Is that possible?  It seemed unlikely that I deserved it, because most of what I recall from 5th grade was literature (and that dismal sewing class where I made a garment that my girls refer to as "that dress-thing").  Even French class was literature; our teacher read Les Miserables aloud to us.  In French, bien sûr.



I recall spending hours at my best friend's house reading and talking about books.  We read and reread Narnia and Little House, drawing pictures and maps, and affirming each other in choosing "Peter" or "Laura" for the names of our yet-unborn children.  I walked to school most mornings, uphill in both directions (there was a hill between home and school), as the sun rose on frosty winter mornings, singing Tirian's marching song in my head as I stomped through snow.  Once that year I brought The Last Battle to Symphony Hall and read during Seiji Ozawa's inaugural season, while the Boston Symphony played Flight of the Bumblebee and Bolero.  It was a school trip, and someone ratted me out to the teacher for reading, so I know she knew I was reading.

As a class, we read Animal Farm, and chanted "Four legs good; two legs bad" together, until someone screamed "two legs better" and we all laughed.  Each student was assigned a Newbery Award book, and each gave a presentation to the class.  We cried as Lori described the possessed sister in The Bronze Bow.  We all longed to hear the Heynal with its broken note when Mark told us about The Trumpeter of Krakow.  When Richard reenacted the scene with molten silver spilling over Johnny Tremain's hand, we all stared in amazement at his talent, until we discovered that Richard had actually fainted, and had to be taken away by ambulance (he was fine, and returned to school the next day).  After everyone had given a presentation, we all traded books until everyone had read through the list.

During a unit on pirates, we each put on a puppet show based on the life of a real sea raider.  I chose Captain "Red Legs" Greaves, a pirate with a heart of gold, who was fleeing captivity when he joined a band of bloodthirsty buccaneers.  We watched the 6th graders' performance of The Taming of the Shrew, and sang "Brush up your Shakespeare" in the schoolyard.  And we wrote our own (rather bad, I'm afraid) plays based on classroom shenanigans, like the time the bus broke down on the way to Old Sturbridge Village, and John put a toad down Mary's shirt as we waited by the side of the road for a replacement bus.  Gosh, it should have been a better play, with material like that.



So, why was my grade so mediocre?  We were required to write weekly book reports, and I simply didn't bother to write them.  To this day, I find book reports intrusive, as well as formulaic and dull, and I never require them of my children.   Like many unschoolers, we read and talk about books, sharing quotations, passages and impressions.  When they were younger, my kids made maps and invented their own stories.  They challenged each other with impromptu trivia quizzes.  We took field trips to visit settings (or places very like the settings) of our favorite books.  And we parents stepped back, giving the kids the freedom to be Swallows or Bastables or Hobbits.

Looking back, I now realize that my friends and I did the same in 5th grade. Maybe I deserved a C, but I unschooled an A's worth of memories.

My Favorite Catholic Things: Rosaries

There are few things more self-indulgent than a blog.  Here, I can express my opinion, and if no one cares, it's no big deal.  If someone disagrees, I can delete his comments.  The name of the blog, after all, is "MacBeth's Opinion" and nothing more ought to be expected.

The name itself is a joke, after my brother Pete's appreciation of film critic Leonard Maltin. Maltin's Movie Guide is often referred to as "Pete's Opinion" in the family; when we want to know about a film, we consult "Pete's Opinion."  The idea so amused me that I took it for the blog in honor of a stupid joke.  I know, that's absurdly stupid, too, as there is no critic whom I consult.  Yet, here, my opinion is actually what you'll find...only, this is actually my own opinion.  Still with me?

Now, to the point.  Oprah has episodes of her show that reveal her favorite things.  I have favorite things, too.  So here is the first post of my Favorite Catholic Things.

Still here?  Read on.

+++++++++++

Favorite Catholic Thing:  The Holy Rosary

I love my fingers.  There are ten of them; they are quite flexible.  They are beginning to resemble my mother's fingers, but I guess that's just the way of things.  They are great as a wake-in-the-middle-of-the-night rosary.  But, you know what?  I like real rosaries better.  And I like beautiful ones.  Sure, it's really all about the prayer, but we are tactile and visual people.  A lovely set of beads is a help...and I need all the help I can get.

It just so happens that in the wonderful world of social media, one finds lots of like-minded people.  Fortunately, one also finds lots of quite skilled people.  Some of my friends actually make gorgeous, inspiringly beautiful rosaries.  If you have a chance, take a look at these sites and see some real beauty.

From Jennifer's site:  (this lovely bead had me interested immediately)      

From Ruth's site:

From Anne's site:

And check out Darlene's friend's site.

Sometimes, the beauty of the rosary is in the intention of the makers...Divine Twine provides twine and instructions for making knots, for the cause of Autism Awareness.  The beauty is in the colors, the task of knotting, and the prayers, of course.

More information on the Rosary.

My favorite online virtual rosary site.

Rosary for Android 
Rosary for iPhone

I Love Lewis!

Today, on the anniversary of his death, I would like to share some favorite lines, not from his more popular books, but from some many folks might not have read.

"In Greek, I have started to read Homer's Illiad, of which, of course, you must often have heard.  Although you don't know Greek & don't care for poetry, I cannot resist the temptation of telling you how stirring it is.  Thos fine, simple, euphonious lines, as they roll on with a roar like that of the ocean, strike a chord in one's mind that no modern literature approaches." from  The Collected Letters Of C.S. Lewis.  It's rather like a spell to induce one's students to read Homer, don't you think?

"No lawgiver, inner or outer, gives laws in a vacuum; he always has real or supposed facts in mind, an idea of what is, which influences his rulings about what ought to be.  Thus the outer lawgiver ceases to make new statutes against witchcraft when he ceases to believe in it, and does not make vaccination compulsory till he thinks it will prevent smallpox.  It is the same with the inner lawgiver." from "Conscience and Conscious" in Studies in Words (Canto).

"The knight is a man of blood and iron, a man familiar with the sight of smashed faces and the ragged stumps of lopped-off limbs; he is also a demure, almost a maidenlike, guest in hall, a gentle, modest, unobtrusive man." from "The Necessity of Chivalry" in Present Concerns.

"You can eat the local food and drink the local wines, you can share the foreign life, you can begin to see the foreign country as it looks, not to the tourist, but to its inhabitants,  You can come home modified, thinking and feeling as you did not think and feel before.  So with the old literature." from De Audiendis Poetis" in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature (Canto)

And my personal favorite Lewis quote:  "Are you looking for an ashtray?  Use the carpet." from an interview, "Unreal Estates" in Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories (a wonderful and eclectic collection).

I wanted to add quotes from Reflections on the Psalms and Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, but it seems as though someone has borrowed them (I suspect daughter #1).  Perhaps next year.

And a little advice to my children seeking spouses:  Ask a potential mate in which order the Chronicles ought to be read.  If he or she replies, "The order in which they were published," you have an excellent match.  If the answer is, "The order in which they were written," it will work out well.  An answer of, "Chronological order," means some couples' counseling will be in order.  But if the answer comes quickly, "It doesn't matter," run for the hills.

RIP, Jack.