Giveaway! The 2016 Magnificat Advent Companion app

November 2016, when everyone’s talking about deactivating Facebook, unfriending almost everyone, moving overseas, taking long, hot showers, and bathing in Purell.

But you know and I know what we really need: We need Advent. Oh, do we need Advent. Some years, I have to persuade myself to get into the spirit of this season of penance, purification, and preparation, but right now I’m like YES PLEASE NOW PLEASE ALL THE ADVENT NOW PLEASE.

Happily, I have a little giveaway to get you going! Besides its excellent and gorgeous spiritual guide that comes out every month, Magnificat puts out an new Advent Companion every year, and I have two codes for the digital version to give away.

The paper version is 96 pages, a pocket-sized booklet. Here’s what this year’s version looks like:

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Here’s a description of what’s inside:

A perfect way to live Advent to the full this year.

This pocket-sized Companion follows a practical, page-a-day format featuring original meditations on the Gospel reading of each day by twenty-five gifted authors.

Each issue of the Advent Companion is never the same as the last and contains these one-of-a-kind extras that you won’t find anywhere else:

– A variety of beautiful and practical blessings.
– An Advent Penance Service.
– Specially-commissioned poetry.
– Advent Stations.
– Praying the O Antiphons.

Magnificat’s products are wonderful. They refresh a world hungry for beauty and help. If you’re busy, you can dip in and follow just some of the content to enrich your Advent as you go; or you can use it as a comprehensive guide to help the season become truly transformative.

You can buy the paper copy here (and they offer discounts for bulk orders), and you can buy the app here.

I’m ditching Rafflecopter this time, because there are always so many glitches. To enter, leave a comment on the blog, and that’s one entry. To get additional entries, share this post on Facebook, Twitter, or Google+ or elsewhere on social media, AND . . .  IMPORTANT: Please leave a separate comment for each additional entry you would like to earn.

So if you want three entries, leave one comment saying “Me please!” [or whatever], one comment saying “I shared your post on FB” and one comment saying “I tweeted this post.” And so on (using the honor system, because what kind of monster would cheat to get an Advent app?). Does that make sense? That will help me choose a winner randomly by using a random number generator, and I won’t need to use a raffle service.

Good luck! I’ll close the contest at noon eastern on Thursday the 17th, and I’ll announce the notify the winners on Thursday or Friday.

What’s for supper? Vol. 59: You made a yummy sound.

Aw, I’m in a rush and can’t find my What’s For Supper? picture with Irene threatening a pie. Add it to my list of things that are making my new site look polished and professional!

Here’s what we had to eat this week:

SATURDAY
Nachos

I was out of town, so my husband put these together. The kids marvelled at how much cheese Daddy uses. Now you know why I married him, kids. That and his beautiful eyes. But mainly the cheese.

SUNDAY
Bacon, egg, and brussels sprouts; crescent rolls

Hear me out. You put a bunch of cut-up raw bacon in a pan with a bunch of halved brussels sprouts, along with balsamic, honey, olive oil, and garlic. You cook ’em up reeeeeal nice. And then you pull out the pan and you crack a bunch of eggs into the pan, sprinkle on red pepper flakes and parmesan, and cook it some more! Recipe from Damn Delicious.

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I made this with two pounds of bacon, four pounds of brussels sprouts, and a dozen eggs. I could easily have made twice as much. And eaten it all myself. But really, I think eleven out of twelve Fishers ate it, all making yummy sounds the whole time.

It was fantastic, so savory, just spicy enough.

In the back of the fridge lurked a few cans of crescent rolls left over from that time I made an army of mummy hot dogs, so I dragged those out and made some misshapen dough hulks, and then burned them all. It’s a special charism I have.

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We also served pomegranates, which are fast becoming our favorite thing to gnaw on while nodding at each other across the room and agreeing, “They’re so cooling to the tongue!”

MONDAY
Ham, string beans, potato tostones

HAM NITE!!!!!!!! My seven-year-old remarked that this meal was like something in a fairy tale. Note to self: find out what she’s been reading lately.

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I had super high hopes for the potato tostones, which were featured in the New York Times several times. You steam some small potatoes, then flatten them between your palms, then fry them up in oil. Maybe I made them wrong, but they didn’t rise above being perfectly decent potatoes.

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It was fun to crush them between our palms, though. Must find more recipes that involve crushing.

TUESDAY
Grilled ham and cheese, chips, pickles

Gosh, I love pickles. I wish I had remembered to fry them right into the grilled cheese. It would have been a bright spot in a day that was otherwise like so:

i-voted

WEDNESDAY
Hot dogs, beans

Wednesday, I was deep in day 2 of a massive, violent cleaning project, so I just shouted down to the kids to make hot dogs, which they did. Like much of the country, we had been up until 2 or 3 a.m. the night before, watching the country tear itself apart like some kind of repulsive analogy that involves parasitical nesting insects and which I won’t share with you. Oops! Well, I won’t share the whole thing.

Well, so before we went to bed, my husband called the schools and left messages that the kids wouldn’t be in. Because their parents are too old for this shit, that’s why.

THURSDAY
Honey garlic chicken with red potatoes and broccoli

Mighty tasty. Love love love these one-pan meals. This one is also from Damn Delicious, but we used thighs instead of breasts. Benny and I cut up the broccoli and potatoes and made the sauce in the morning, and then we threw it together in two pans half an hour before dinner time. Turns out wonderful with almost no cooking skill required.

one-pan-chicken

Charred broccoli is the great, unexpected delight of my forties, just like Helen Gurley Brown promised.

FRIDAY
Pigsnetti

And I am headed off to Connecticut for the Bridgeport Women’s Conference!

Tell me all about your meals for the week! What brought on the yummy sounds?

 

Don’t bother lying to God

When my mother was a new Christian, she was in with a crowd that put great stock in outward appearances. Since she had many more kids and much less money than everyone else, she felt horribly self-conscious about her house, which was shabby and cluttered despite her constant housekeeping. She got in the habit of saying, if someone stopped by, “Oh, please excuse the house. We’ve been away all day and I haven’t had a chance to tidy up!” or “Sorry about the mess around here! The kids have been sick and I’m so behind.”

Then one day, she just got sick of it. The smarmiest, must judgmental neighbor of all happened to drop in, and she said, “Well, I’m sorry about the house. This is how we live.”

I wish I knew the rest of the story. Did the judgy woman gasp and flee? Did she tell everyone that Mrs. P. lives like a pig and isn’t even ashamed of it? Did she (it’s possible) think, “Wow, that’s kind of refreshing. Someone just told me the truth”? It’s possible that the woman was even grateful that someone trusted her with some difficult information. It’s possible she went away and asked herself why it was that people felt they needed to lie to her.

Telling the truth is says something about us, and also something about the person we’re talking to. When we tell the truth, its a risk to ourselves, but also a great compliment to them.

The older I get, the less patience I have for people who try to shine me on. It feels rude to be lied to. Do you think I’m too dumb to know the truth? Too weak? Too shallow? Who has time for pretense? There’s so much nonsense in the world that we can’t get around. Why add to it by pretending to be someone we’re not?

I’ll tell you something. God is even older than I am, and he has even less interest in hearing lies. My brother Joe tells about a priest who had a big problem. And he was mad. Mad at the world, mad at his situation, and mad at God. So every day, he went into the adoration chapel, knelt before the Sacrament, and told the truth: “I don’t love you, God.”

Every day, every day he did this. Until one day he said it, and he realized it wasn’t true anymore.

I’d like to know the rest of that story, too. I do know that it’s never useful to lie to God. It’s never useful to lie to ourselves about what our relationship with God is. It’s never useful to run away from God, and refuse to talk to him, if we feel like we can’t say the right things or feel the right things. No one has time for that, and it’s an insult to God to even try it. If you feel like you have to hide, then tell him that. If you feel that he’s not fair, tell him that. If you aren’t even sure he exists, tell him that. There’s no time for anything less than the truth.

Utter honesty is a luxury we do not always have with the rest of the world. Civility, duty, and charity often demand that we reserve such blunt honesty from other people, at least most of the time. So do what you need to do when you’re presenting yourself to the rest of the world. Sometimes it’s appropriate to lay it all out there; sometimes you will want or need to be a little more guarded.

But not with God. Never with God. Go ahead and tell him, as you open your front door, “This is just how I live.” It doesn’t relieve you of the responsibility of changing things, if that’s what needs to happen; but God will not help you change until you are willing to talk to him about where you are. He is a gentleman. He only comes in where He is invited. Honesty is an invitation he always accepts.

***

Image By Miguel Discart (2014-04-05_14-13-49_NEX-6_DSC08220) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

10 low-tech toys that flash, buzz, wiggle, and zoom!

 

Let’s . . . let’s just talk about toys.

A trip last weekend to my childhood home has made me nostalgic. It’s far too early to share a list of Christmas present ideas, so how about this list of toys I remember from my childhood? Many are still popular, in one form or another. Here’s ten of my favorites, most for under ten dollars:

1. Sparking wheels!

The ones from my yoot were made of tin, and were very sturdy. I liked to sit at the bottom of the stairs, at the darkest spot in the house, and just crank that wheel, watching a mesmerizing little red and blue galaxy flash in and out of existence in the palm of my hand. The scratch and catch of the mechanism was very satisfying for the hand and ear, too.

Shopping around for a sturdy version that didn’t cost a million dollars, I came across this sparking toy:

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which also toddles around aimlessly when you wind it up. Looks like today’s version of the hand-cranked wheel I remember is plastic and more flimsy, but probably still four bucks’ worth of fun.

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2. Magic rail roller!

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If you haven’t seen one of these in action, it’s hard to explain what it does. The axles of the wheel have little magnets in them, and if you hold it by the handle end and flip it around the right way, the wheel goes whizzing around and around the frame, and, I dunno, it’s fun.

3. Siren whistles!

My migraine-plagued father had an inexplicable drive to buy us wonderful toys that drove him crazy. One perennial favorite was siren rings, which (like everything in my childhood, it seems) used to be made of metal. You could wear them like ordinary rings, and whenever the time seemed right, you would blow into the round window in the top and it would go “wwwweeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeooooooooooo,” and it never ever ever ever got old.

The closest I can find is siren whistles built into lips or mustache, or just in little tubes.

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These get okay reviews, and you get, um, four dozen for $7.50, thereby ensuring that you will never ever ever ever run out of hearing “wwwweeeeeEEEEEEEeeeooooooooooo.”

Some inefficient part of me wants to buy myself this lovely, shiny little siren whistle, not a toy ($33) but designed for making sound effects.

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It’s from the Acme company. THE ACME COMPANY. Wile E. Coyote c’est moi. The description also points out that it’s “a useful and unusual warning signal for small boats.”

4. Chinese drums!

Oh, my gosh, these are fun.

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You roll the handle back and forth between the palms of your hands, which makes the balls swing on their strings, whacking the drum on both sides. Very satisfying! These are about $7, and they will send you a randomly-chosen design.

5. Clacker balls!

Did I ever get the hang of these? No, I did not. But they were enough fun that I tried for years and years; and I liked walking around the house looking at the world through the transparent balls with their tiny captive bubbles, too.

The trick is to loop the middle of the string around your finger and sort of jerk them in a rhythm so they smack together at the end of their strings until they start arcing up and down, clacking against each other high and low. (One of the reviews here shared a video, so you can get an idea of how it goes.)

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Okay, so these are plastic (about $5 a pair). We had dark blue glass ones when I was little. Nostalgia aside, I can’t shake the idea that maybe it’s okay that today’s kids are pampered and coddled and aren’t generally encouraged to make glass balls crash against each other. Old ways are not always the best ways. Either way: not recommended for kids with short tempers.

6. Magnetic scotties

I’m not gonna lie to you: these are magnetic scotties. That is, they are two plastic dogs with magnets in them. See?

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$6.55, and you get two dogs that have magnets in them! This mean you can make them kiss, or you can make them chase each other! It was a simpler time! It was fun, I tell you!

7. Mooing cans

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They put farm animals on this item (about $8) to make you think it’s a toy for children, but it’s actually for anyone who just needs to hear a little moo from time to time. I believe it works with a weighted rubber membrane inside, and when you tip it over, it creates a suction that pulls air through the . . . you know, I don’t know how it works. But it’s hilarious. If you shake it really fast, it sounds like the cow is hysterical!

8. Color paddles

The one I had just had the three primary color, but kids these days are lazy, so get their purple, green, and orange handed to them on a platter.

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This one gives you three sets of six colors for about $7. You can mix the colors together to make other colors, or you can just peer through them and think, “What if everything were purple all the time?”

9. Balancing bird

Balance it on your fingertip! Balance it on your chin! Balance it on your tongue! It’s such an obliging bird.

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I think the product description says it all: “Extraordinary gift for someone.”

10. Jacob’s ladder

The perfect toy to feed into an introspective child’s Heraclitean confusion.

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About six bucks. I understand how it works. Really, I do. The ribbons hold it in place, and the thing flips over, and I understand how it works. But damn!  How does it do that?

***

I should note that all of the links are to Amazon products because I have an Amazon Associate’s account. If you buy any of these products, or if you buy anything at all on Amazon after getting to the site after clicking to one of my links, then I earn a small percentage of the sale. This is so helpful to my family, you wouldn’t believe it.

If you shop on Amazon, won’t you consider using my link? I’ll have a button on the sidebar here soon. In the meantime, here is Simcha’s Amazon Link. Be a peach and bookmark it for me! Thanks!

And now tell me about the toys of your childhood, especially the lovely, low-tech ones that keep on going through generations.

Wait! Before you vote!

Here’s the most valuable advice you will receive all day:

Don’t forget to take the little “I voted” sticker off your shirt before you put it in the wash, or it will leave a mark.

 

Who am I kidding. It’s gonna leave a mark.

I’m a single-issue pro-lifer in a swing state, and I cannot vote for Trump

I’m a pro-lifer. I believe that the term “pro-life” encompasses so much more than abortion; but I also believe, as Flannery O’Connor says, that you can’t be any poorer than dead.

So when I vote, I vote for the candidate whose presidency will result in fewer dead babies, because you have to start somewhere.

Many of my friends who think the same way are voting for Trump. This is something I cannot do.

As a single-issue, pro-life, swing state voter, here’s what I know:

The President doesn’t just rush over from the swearing-in ceremony, wielding a copy of the Constitution and a Sharpie, passing laws or repealing laws by fiat. They are required to work with Congress. A President Hillary can’t just repeal the Hyde Amendment on her own, any more than a President Trump can’t just repeal Obamacare on his own. So if you’re voting for Trump just because you think Hillary will repeal the Hyde Amendment, then think again. The Hyde Amendment comes down to budgetary issues, and who passes the budget? Congress. So if you’re worried about specific legislation, think of who you’re voting for down ticket. They’re the ones who hold that power.

Presidents also don’t just show up at work and decide who’s going to be on the Supreme Court. The president can nominate someone, but then Congress must approve the nomination. Remember? Remember how Obama shamed the GOP by nominating Merrick Garland, who is widely known as a thoughtful, rigorous, non-partisan judge, and the GOP dug in its heels and blocked him out of spite? That’s how that works.

So if you’re voting for Trump just because of potential Supreme Court nominations, think again. The president can’t put anyone in place without congress’ say-so, and congress has shown that they’re more interested in vengeance and grandstanding than in anything to do with Roe v. Wade or any other pro-life legal case. They’ll say yes to any idiot Trump chooses if they think that idiot will grease their palms in matters that are actually important to them, and they’ll say no to any good judge he might accidentally choose if they think that it will impress their constituents to stand up to Trump.

Congress. Doesn’t. Care. About. Abortion.

Speaking of the Hyde Amendment and Obamacare, if the fate of tens of thousands of babies really does come down to funding, as I keep hearing from the “But the Hyde Amendment!” crowd, then riddle me this: The Hyde Amendment (and I keep accidentally typing “Hype Amendment,” which is pretty accurate) means that federal tax dollars can’t go for abortions. And it’s completely bogus. The federal government funnels millions and millions of tax dollars to Planned Parenthood, and has done so for years. Planned Parenthood is mainly in the abortion business. Money is fungible. Your tax dollars have been paying for abortions forever. The Hyde Amendment  is there so republicans can point to it and say, “SEE? This is why you have no choice but to vote for me!” That’s its only function.

But what about Obamacare? It’s a huge friggin’ mess. Lots of my friends are suffering because of it. But also, it pays for things like prenatal care for poor people who have no other insurance. It pays for thing like the delivery of babies, and for healthcare that keeps alive already-born babies (and children and teenagers, not to mention pregnant and non-pregnant women, and men). One of the reasons people seek abortion is because they think, “How can I possibly afford a baby?” And . . . Trump has sworn to repeal Obamacare.

So if you really believe that it’s mainly big government funding that makes the difference between life and death, you might as well vote Hillary, because she’s not talking about yanking Obamacare. (But those are ugly, leech-like Obamacare babies, not clean, noble Hyde Amendment babies, so screw ’em, right?)

Where do pro-life laws or pro-choice laws really come from, anyway? The president has all kinds of ways of influencing what kind of laws come before congress. The president can make deals with legislators, appointing people heads of committees, and promising rewards in return for favors done; and the president can occasionally pass executive orders or try to repeal certain laws, if they are extremely important to him and worth making a stand over.

But the political will and clout for big, important, life-changing laws come from the ground up, from the states and from individual communities. That’s where the momentum comes from. That’s how legislatures get the idea and the courage to introduce new bills: if they think their constituents will like it, and if they think someone will put money behind it. That’s also, frankly, how laws come before the Supreme Court: if someone has the stamina to keep challenging it, and if someone puts up the money to keep championing it.

I know you don’t want to hear that our legal system rises and falls on popular opinion and money, but it does. It’s really not mainly about who’s president. That’s simply not how it works.

So what happens (and what’s already happening) when pro-lifers openly support Trump and say that he represents our goals and values? Checks come pouring in to pro-choice candidates. Sane people take one look at him and say, “If that’s what it means to be pro-life, then helllllll, no.” A Trump presidency backed by pro-lifers would energize the pro-choice movement in ways we’ve never seen before, ever. Money, enthusiasm, legislative pressure, local and state election — all, all will go shrieking away from pro-lifers. And this is one thing that you really can pin directly on who’s president.

What happened during the Obama presidency? The pro-life movement was tremendously energized. Dozens and dozens of pro-life laws have been passed. Abortions have gone down. This is what it looks like when pro-lifers look at the president and say, “This is the enemy. Let’s fight back!” The very same thing will happen if Hillary is president.

And the very same thing will happen is Trump is president — only it won’t be pro-lifers saying it; it’ll be pro-choicers, and it will be pro-choice laws being passed, and pro-choice causes gaining clout and energy and donations. If I were pro-choice, I’d vote for Trump.

And now let’s talk about pregnant women in crisis. Let’s talk about how they get that way. Let’s talk about the fact that so very many pregnant women who seek abortion say they felt pressured into it. Where could that pressure possibly come from?

Maybe from men who treat them like sex objects. (This is how Donald Trump treats women, past, present, and future.)

Maybe from men who hear that their wife or girlfriend is pregnant and immediately see it as a problem. (This is how Donald Trump treated his wife.)

Maybe because they think they can’t afford to be pregnant and can’t afford to take care of a child. (Donald Trump doesn’t want poor women to have access to free healthcare.)

Maybe because they’re involved with a man who doesn’t feel any need to honor his promises. (Donald Trump is a rich man because he routinely backs out of his promises, refusing to pay contractors and declaring bankruptcy.)

Maybe because they’re living in a culture where men feel that they have a right to push their way into women’s lives, grab whatever they want from women, blame and shame women for anything that happens next, and leave whenever the relationship becomes inconvenient for him. (Donald Trump Donald Trump Donald Trump Donald Trump.)

Women end up having abortions mainly when they feel like they have no other choice: when they feel that their lives and their identities are only worthwhile if they’re more serviceable to people who have power over them.

And I have just described the world that Donald Trump builds around himself, and will continue to build as president.

Just yesterday, Baby Christian Trump said that a reporter’s accusation of sexual aggression isn’t credible because “look at her.” This is how he operates. This is how he sees women: as either pretty enough to be worthy of his sexual onslaught, or as too ugly to be worth anyone’s time.

Women seek abortion for a reason. Donald Trump, and the people who admire him and imitate him, are that reason. Trump has been telling us who he is. Pro-lifers, let’s believe him.

So how to vote, then?
-Vote for Hillary if you think she’ll be better, in the long run, for the unborn. Since I live in a swing state, this is probably what I will do, because I think it’s the least un-pro-life option.
-Vote for a third party candidate if you think he can’t win, but you just can’t stand to vote R or D.
-Vote for a third party candidate , or write in someone if you can, if you think your candidate won’t win, but it will crack open the monstrously dysfunctional two-party system that got us here in the first place.
-Leave your ballot blank, if you think that’s what this election deserves.

But don’t vote for Trump because you’re pro-life. It would be better to hang a millstone on your ballot and throw it into the sea.

Two Wolves

Let me introduce myself.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up:

An old Cherokee told his grandson, “My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, hope, love, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth.

The boy thought about it and asked, “Grandfather, which wolf wins?”

The old man quietly replied, “The one you feed.”

Wa-a-a-a-a-all, there’s nothing wrong with this. It’s good to be self-aware and realize there is a battle going on inside you, and it’s good to know there are parts of you that don’t deserve encouragement. You can be free to be you and me without letting Jerk Wolf take over.

And yet, I’ve met some Cherokees, and they don’t seem quite as sure as Grandfather Quietly Replied that the battle is really so simple. Good You vs. Evil You, eh? And you just have to choose one?

What about when someone tells you that, when you thought you were letting Good Wolf take the wheel, it made them want to run away screaming, because Good Wolf is a tedious sap?

What if someone confides that, on the day that Evil Wolf squeezed under the fence and gorged on garbage all day and then skulked back to his crate with a full belly, that was the day some teetering, almost-lost soul saw it all and thought, “Wow, that’s kind of awesome. If a decent, productive, and stable society can deal with wolfies like that, maybe there’s a place for me after all”?

I’m just saying. There are wolves, and there are wolves. As for me, my wolves are named Kierkegaard and Lily von Shtupp, and they are both exceedingly hungry. We’ve worked out a system where they take turns getting fed. Oddly, they both thrive on gin. Even odder, they refuse to eat unless the other one is close by.  And if there are no quiet grandfathers lurking about, nodding in grave approbation — well, as a Hebrew Catholic gal from New Hampshire, I never was a very good Cherokee anyway.

So now it’s your turn to introduce yourself. Or if you’re in a rush, sum up: What are your wolves named? And how well do they get along? And wouldn’t you like to slip into something a little more comfortable?

 

Soul cakes!

On All Soul’s Day, if we can manage it, we bake soul cakes. Here’s the recipe I use, because it doesn’t include yeast.

These dense, fragrant little cakes are a good way of helping your kids step down from cramming Kit Kats into their faces for several hours a day. They are sweet, but also pleasantly spicy and old-fashioned tasting, and quite easy to make. I’ll make beef stew to go with ours. I didn’t have cider vinegar, so I used regular, and used cloves in place of allspice. You can add currents or raisins or whatever else you like. Medieval recipes are forgiving!

We used to sing “Soul Cakes” as a round when I was little. Sting has recorded a version, but it’s really unbearably Sting-y (and also veers off into Christmas territory), so here’s a more toothsome rendition:

Going “souling” was a kind of ritual begging on All Hallow’s Eve, All Saint’s Day, and All Soul’s Day, when children and the poor would go house to house, singing and collecting cakes and other treats, and offering prayers for the dead in return. We got our begging in on Monday, so we’ll settle for eating some warm spicy cakes after school, and adding some extra prayers for the dead to our evening routine.

And now that I’ve snared you in by talking about food, here’s a reminder: Praying for the dead ought to be a part of our daily life, as members of the Communion of Saints. To make sure you fit it in, why not add it to grace before meals? “May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.” Takes two seconds, frightens guests, and pays into that bank of grace. If you help souls get out of purgatory, you can bet that they’ll help you when it’s your turn. Easy peasy, no yeast necessary.

A hymn to household saints

For all the saints
Who’ve lost their arms and head;
For those whose poor legs
Are now duct tape instead;
For those long gone
Beneath my bad kid’s bed:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For all the saints
Whose words are super true,
Who labored hard
To preach to me and you:
Please try again,
Until your face is blue:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For all the saints
Whose names our babies bear,
Please take their hands
(And maybe brush their hair).
We’re working hard,
Not getting anywhere.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For all the saints
Up on those dusty shelves.
You see the pits
The human spirit delves.
Ask God for mercy.
We can’t save ourselves.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For all our saints,
This day is just for you.
You’re with God now.
You need something to do?
Then pray for us!
We’re leaning hard on you.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

Set your Catholic mind at ease about Halloween

Are scary Halloween costumes okay for Catholics? Jimmy Akin has answered this common question in a typically thorough and reassuring way. Sexy, offensively disgusting, or occultish stuff is out (gee, what a loss). But everything else, including spooky stuff, is in.

He makes the sensible point that people are attracted to spooky stuff for a reason — that God made us so that we enjoy small doses of peril and tension, because it prepares us to deal with the real thing, which will surely come along sooner or later.  So as long as we don’t spend our lives wallowing in gore and ghoulishness, it’s healthy and normal and perfectly fine to indulge in a little dramatic scaring and screaming from time to time.  Therefore, spooky Halloween stuff?  A-OK.

His argument reminds me of something my sister once pointed out:  that when Daddy tosses the baby up in the air and baby laughs, it’s because there really is a joke there, albeit a very simple one.  The situation says, “You’re in danger!” but the baby knows, “But it’s Daddy!  I’m fine!”  See? Funny stuff right there, if you’re a baby.  And a pretty good analogy for the delightfully childlike question, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” Whee! And so, scary Halloween stuff might not only be psychologically healthy (and therefore spiritually sound), but they might be a minor tribute to our trust in the goodness of God.

There’s another answer to the question of whether creepy, gory costumes and other Halloweeny practices (or scary stuff in general) are appropriate for Catholics to indulge in. Some Catholics argue, “This isn’t just a little holiday from the somber demands of my Faith; it’s actually my way of laughing at the devil!  I’m spitting in ol’ Nick’s eye and reaffirming the truth of the triumph of the Resurrection when I  . . . um. . . buy this rubber mask of a clown with an axe splitting his forehead open.  See?  Ad majorem dei gloriam!  Wooooooooooooooo!”  I used to roll my eyes over these rather contrived arguments, thinking, “Gee whiz, just admit that you want to have fun sometimes, and stop trying to make some big religious deal out of everything.”

But honestly, now I think that even overthinking it can be a perfectly legitimate Catholic approach, if that’s what appeals to you.

And also legitimate is yet another approach:  skipping Halloween altogether, because it just doesn’t seem right. Don’t be a jerk about it (no training your kids to tell their friends that their Hello Kitty costume is a portal to hell, for instance), and for goodness’ sake let your kids have a cupcake or something. But you don’t have to do Halloween. It’s your call.

Because that’s the nice part about being a Catholic:  as long as we’re living our lives in a way that is pleasing to God, we can either be practical and science-based, or we can be analytical and deliberate, or we can be cautious and guarded, or we can be giggling babies.  We can figure out what Thomas Aquinas would say, or we can just check our Baltimore Catechism, or we can just remember what our moms used to do. Assuming mom was a reasonable gal, you can just go with that and be at peace.

The Church, like all good mothers, knows that all of her children have the same basic needs, but that personalities vary so much that the same approach will not work for everyone — and that every child (no matter what age) should be exposed to some variety.  From this method of mothering, we can take our clue about how to behave on confusing secular/quasi pagan holidays like Halloween, which elbow in and threaten to crash the party of holy days like All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day:  sometimes the ultra-doctrinal route is the way to go, and other times, you can just put on a Bugs Bunny mask and give glory to God by making your kids laugh.  Just keep checking in with your mother, but don’t compare yourself too much with your brother.  You’re a different person, and your mother appreciates that (even if your brother doesn’t).

This attitude is the basic principle behind liturgical seasons:  some of this, some of that, a time for this, and a time for that.  Some people are better at Lent and some people specialize in Christmas.  And some people honestly only feel at home when it’s Ordinary Time.  The only truly un-Catholic approach is to ignore the seasons altogether.

How delightful it is to be Catholic, when so few things are forbidden — so few things are out of the question.  What a wide, wonderful Church!  Some people think of our Faith as a strict and limited meal plan, which, followed precisely, will yield the best dietary results.  But really, it’s more like a bounteous smorgasbord.  It’s possible to overindulge, and if you stay in one spot, you won’t get a balanced meal.  But do it right, and you’ll end up with all sorts of things on your plate — and your plate will probably look completely different from the one the other guy brought back to the table.

Especially if you’re sitting next to Jimmy Akin.  I mean, the man eats brains.

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A version of this post first appeared under a different title in the National Catholic Register in 2012.)