Tag: traditional catholic

Is it ok to enjoy love stories?

May 13th, 2025

This post is related to my post on music, and also inspired in part by an article I read a couple months ago in Benedictus – actually, it was an excerpt from an old book called “The Ecclesiastical Year,” and it was about the Feast of the Annunciation, a.k.a. Lady Day. If you read Benedictus you might remember the piece I’m talking about.

“Love reciprocally for and from a mother is one of the safest kinds: it contrasts with the dangers of love for a lady sought in marriage passionately, the perils of which are well illustrated by those romantic stories which so pleased readers in the days of chivalry, and in which St. Francis of Assisi, St. Ignatius of Loyola, and St. Theresa found some delight which they afterward repudiated.” Basically, the point of this little excerpt seems to be that the love for and of Our Lady is purer and more perfect than any fleshly love; superior, obviously, to the sort of love told about in love stories. Thus her “knights” on earth are better examples of real chivalry than any of those fictional characters which we enjoy so much.

The author doesn’t completely disparage the whole genre of chivalry/romance, though. “[T]he well-instructed Catholic does not need to be told that he must not starve out all love for family in kindred in his zeal for loving Jesus and Mary.” It’s only the misinformed and ignorant, Fr. Rickaby asserts, who react dramatically and violently to the Church’s advice to be cautious regarding fleshly affections: basically, getting all up in arms, claiming that the Church ‘hates love’ or some such, and veering hard to the opposite extreme: idealizing passionate love, claiming that it’s the greatest thing on earth, “an inspiration to high deeds and noble living, as well as a source of ennobling power.”

Which, this seems to be still extremely true of society today, don’t you think? Those who hate Catholicism love to accuse us of hating love – as if we’re all stuffy and prudish and afraid of pleasure. Which is very false. And it’s definitely true that our culture idealizes romance. I’ve talked in other posts about how weird and unfortunate it is that, as a society, we’re so obsessed with romantic love – it seems like every song on the radio, every popular TV show and movie, glorifies romance as if it’s the one thing to be desired above all else. Which attitude is, I think, pretty unhealthy for young folks to absorb.

I don’t want to be one of the ignorant and misinformed people that Fr. Rickaby is talking about in this excerpt. Obviously, I’m aware that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a romantic story, as long as that romantic story is healthy, orderly, clean, and appropriately contextualized: always secondary to, and always leading towards, love of God.

But, I guess my question is: is it ever okay to enjoy a secular love story per se? It’s similar to my question about enjoying pop music. Basically, the question underlying both of these seems to be: is it ever okay to deliberately arouse the passions/excite the emotions over something secular?

Of course it’s true that we can safely enjoy some secular things, as long as we don’t get carried away. But what does it mean to get “carried away?” How do we know if we’re getting carried away? And, does reading/watching romance stories, or listening to love songs, fall under the category of safe secular things that we can enjoy in moderation? Or is it always an occasion of sin?

Getting carried away: I imagine “getting carried away” would mean that you’re enjoying a thing so much that you neglect your religious duties, or find yourself tempted to sin. So is it only bad to arouse the passions if it leads you to sin or temptation?

Or, is arousing the passions always bad all the time, simply because you’re getting yourself into a state in which your emotions have taken over and the will/intellect is no longer in charge?

– But then: just because you are arousing the passions for a while, does that always mean that the intellect has been subordinated? Isn’t it possible to enjoy a bit of (clean) titillation for a little while, as long as you are able to put it down and walk away and go about your business when the time for it is done? If you’re addicted to pleasure, that’s a problem, obviously. But if you’re able to decide when and how much to indulge, and stop when you’re done… is that still a problem, I wonder?

And obviously, I’m not talking about pleasure/stimulation that’s sinful. I think (emphasis think, don’t know for sure) that it’s possible to enjoy a love story without lust getting involved.

Let’s take an example. One of my favorite guilty pleasure shows: Outer Banks. (CAUTION: SEASON 3 SPOILERS AHEAD, stop reading here if you haven’t yet watched season three.) Take the scene where JJ rescues Kiara from that detention camp place her parents stuck her in. It’s so romantic. Completely non-sexual, but, still tugs on the heartstrings and makes you feel all mushy inside (at least, if you’re a dork like me, I guess). Similarly, let’s consider another embarrassing guilty pleasure of mine: the song “As Long As You Love Me” by Justin Bieber ft. Big Sean. It’s a totally clean song, nothing sexual in it, not even any innuendos or allusions. And (for me, at least) it gives you the feels in your heart, but is not what I’d call erotic or sexual or anything like that. (I know some would say that the rhythms alone make this song base and sexual, even though the lyrics are pretty innocent.) Works like these ones light up pleasure centers in the heart/chest region, but not so much the loins. So: are this scene and this song safe territory? Or is such romance always lustful because of what it leads to/evokes/suggests? Is it okay to enjoy things like these, in moderation?

I really don’t know, which is why I am writing this post. I’m not trying to make excuses for myself. In the past, back when I had MiTHology 2.0, I used to write all of these awful posts attempting to dissect the teachings of the Catholic Church that bothered me, and to “disprove” them — to prove, for example, why things like non-traditional marriage and female priests should actually be okay. Lol. I am no longer doing that, here. I hope I’m not that arrogant anymore. My priest told me that listening to impure pop/hip-hop music is a sin, so, that’s that; I accept that as the truth. I’m just thinking out loud here, and wrestling with a teaching that I find difficult, and looking for outside opinions if anyone is actually reading this and has an opinion that they care to share. Probably I should work up the nerve to ask an actual priest about all of this, but I have AvPD, and asking people for things is really hard.

No longer making excuses; trying not to, anyway. But it’s awfully tempting. Because sometimes, sinful things look awfully pretty and well-done, like fine art. There are some rap music videos that a part of me thinks are absolute works of art, and certain performers in that genre are undeniably talented at what they do, like, their skills are impressive to listen to! It’s really amazing to me what Nicki Minaj can do with her voice. I’m like, surely it must be okay to just appreciate the talent at work, here? – But, on that note, you could, in theory, have “really well done” porn featuring talented actors and beautiful scenery, I guess, and it would still be porn and therefore despicable. There do exist, I guess, really skilled and agile pole dancers, but pole dancing is still a sinful thing to perform in public. A beautifully-designed dress can be a fine work of art and still really immodest. So, just because something is well done, doesn’t give me an excuse to enjoy it.

Something like porn is obviously always bad. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m just wondering how okay it is to enjoy a nice clean love story – specifically, one that’s not necessarily Catholic. I’m aware that there are good Catholic works of literature out there that deal with the sacrament of marriage and with healthy Catholic relationships. Those are surely fine and good to enjoy in moderation. But, something like Outer Banks, while not smutty or graphic like some other shows, is decidedly not Catholic. Pop songs like the Justin Bieber one have nothing to do with God – but are they necessarily evil?

Like I was saying about these two examples: they are certainly sensual, in a way, in that they are pleasing to the senses; but the pleasure centers that they light up are more emotional than sexual. Does that make them better, safer?

Obviously, not all fleshly love is bad. The love that an atheist mom has for her children is still a wonderful and powerful thing. The love between two friends, regardless of whether they are Christian or not, is a good and beautiful thing. The sentiment of love is good and beautiful. As Fr. Rickaby said in this excerpt, it’s not like all Catholics are required to give up their love for their earthly family! That would be ridiculous! Even romance is good and healthy and all, if it’s engaged in without sin.

But enjoying romantic stories? Or even just emotional stories/songs at all, in which the whole gist of the story is a relationship between mortal characters? As someone who loves these, I guess I’m just wondering whether it is ethically permissible to love these.

What do we think, fellow Catholics? Is it safe to cherish ~feelings~ about non-religious things? Is it okay to enjoy a clean romance novel here and there? Are non-sexual romantic pop songs okay? Is it ever okay to intentionally arouse the passions about something secular?
Are homesteaders morally superior to the rest of us?

May 8th, 2025

ETA: this is part one of two. For the follow-up, in which I more or less find the answer to this question, please see part two.

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There’s a big movement these days, especially among Catholics, to get away from the city/suburbs, buy some land in the countryside, buy some animals, plant some seeds, and become self-sufficient. I get it. Self-sufficiency is cool. In the event of a societal collapse, you’ll be prepared. You’re safe from all the weird toxic ingredients and contamination incidents that affect grocery store products. Additionally, living off the land is a very spiritual thing. You’re living in accord with the rhythms of nature; the seasons, the weather, sunrise and sunset. You’re connected to your food source in a way that grocery shoppers are not. City life is comparatively removed from God’s creation; God designed us to live off the land, didn’t He? For homesteaders, life is probably, in a lot of ways, more “real.”

But does that make them better than the rest of us, who live in the city and buy all our food at the grocery store?

I think in some cases, maybe?

Let’s consider two individuals, we’ll call them Fran and Marge:

Fran is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Fran and her family live in a nice suburban housing development with HOA fees. They don’t have room for animals or a garden (except a few potted flowers and ornamental shrubs), plus Fran doesn’t like getting her hands dirty. She’s an elegant lady. So they do all their shopping at their local grocery store, or sometimes the farmer’s market if it’s convenient, which it’s not, because Fran has ten kids, whom she homeschools, and also volunteers for Meals on Wheels and the local free pregnancy center, and in her free time enjoys committee work and Well Read Mom book club meetings with her church friends. She also works out daily at the local YMCA, where she takes aerobics classes.

Next let’s look at Marge. Marge is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Marge and her family live on fifty acres, off a dirt road an hour outside of town. They have chickens, a dairy cow, a couple of goats, and a pig that they’re planning on slaughtering a few months from now to stock up their freezer. Marge makes her own yogurt and cheese from their own cow’s milk. They also have a huge garden, and Marge makes everything from scratch, canning and preserving all her own produce. It’s a full time job, between that and homeschooling her ten kids, but for Marge it’s very spiritually fulfilling. She doesn’t have time for volunteering outside the home, but for Marge, her home is her ministry.

Who is the “better” Catholic? If all other factors are the same, and they’re both very prayerful and striving to remain always in the state of grace, then is Marge better because she homesteads? But what about all of Fran’s hard work? I don’t know if we can say that Marge is doing better – can we? As a wife and mother, shouldn’t her home be her foremost ministry, before any committees or volunteer work?

Let’s consider a third individual though. We’ll call her Lois. Lois is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. But in her free time, Lois is kind of a nerd. She enjoys watching TV and movies (but avoids anything racy or sinful), playing computer games (only clean ones), reading novels, writing stories, drawing, and knitting or crocheting. Committee work is not for her. She is an introvert and enjoys sitting quietly and looking out the window. She errs on the lazy side, but is doing her best; she’s a little chubby, but not obese or anything. Her suburban home has a decent-sized yard, but Lois has no interest in gardening or livestock. It’s just not how she cares to spend her time. For her, serving God means doing her very best at keeping her little house and homeschooling her ten kids, creating beautiful things, and just trying to be a good Christian witness to everyone whom she meets along her way as she goes about her little life. Including at the grocery store where she shops.

Is Marge a better Catholic than Lois? What about Fran, where does she fall in there? Is Marge the most Catholicest of all of them? How would we “rank” these three?

I guess we can’t really rank them. Only God can do that. But we can at least make an educated guess as to what kind of lifestyle we think is the holiest, can’t we?

But then, who are we to know how God speaks to Lois, or to Fran, or to Marge? God built each of these women and knows their interior life and workings and struggles in ways that no human ever can. Only He can really judge them.

But we still have moral compasses to steer us towards the best ways to live. What do we think? Should Lois and Fran abandon all their other works and hobbies, sell their homes, and buy some land and some livestock? Should Fran make herself miserable by getting her pretty fingernails dirty even though she hates it? Should Lois give up her crochet and computer games and instead raise chickens?

If I had to guess, I’d say there’s no moral obligation for them to do that. I think homesteading is one of those things, like exercise, or reading old books, that’s very good for you indeed, but not a crime not to do.

Or is it? I’m genuinely not sure.

I know one thing for sure: not all of us have the luxury of being able to move out to the country. Land and livestock are expensive. There’s a stereotype that farming is such a humble and simple way to live; but it takes a lot of money to be able to live that humbly and simply! Maybe back in the day, farmers were poor folks, but these days, it’s kind of the opposite: poor folks live in cities and surrounding areas, now, and rich folks are the ones privileged enough to live off their own land. And yeah, sure, I bet it does save money, living that way, long-term (canning your own goods, slaughtering your own meat, harvesting your own produce…), but, in order to save that money, you have to have a lot of money upfront to buy the animals, the supplies, and the property! Someone living paycheck to paycheck simply cannot do that.

But, a morally perfect person would make good financial decisions, wouldn’t they? A morally perfect person probably wouldn’t become poor enough to need to live paycheck-to-paycheck, because they would work hard, be careful to avoid unpayable debt, and their upstanding moral qualities would pay off in their lives, and surely anyone who’s not a complete screw-up, morally (because financial management is a moral matter) can afford a half acre or so, somewhere, can’t they? (I’m not talking about situations where people become poor through no fault of their own, such as medical debt from an illness or injury. Clearly such a person is not at fault for not being able to afford their own farm.)

But those of us who could have done better in the past, and are now dealing with the after-effects of our previous less-than-perfect financial decisions (as a millennial, I’m thinking specifically about student debt); is our inability to homestead a moral failing? Is our grocery shopping a symptom of our sinfulness? Should we be ashamed of it?

What about those of us who could, in theory, start a little garden or farm, but just don’t want to? What if, like Fran, we just hate getting sweaty and getting our hands dirty, and don’t particularly like farm animals? Or, like Lois, we’d rather do other hobbies? Should we just forget about our personal preferences/desires for comfort and pleasure, and get out there and do it anyway? – Is this what a very holy person, someone completely detached from all desires for comfort and pleasure, would do? I’m not such a person, so I honestly do not know.

I feel like Marge and Fran are “better” Catholics than Lois. But that’s just a feeling, and I’m not sure if it’s in any way correct. Personally, I have the most in common with Lois, except I’m not as content or confident as she is; I’m always wondering, fretfully, if I should be more of a Marge, or at least a Fran. Although I’ve tried being more Fran-like in the past, and I suck at it. My attempts to be more Marge-like never stick, either. I just can’t wait to get inside and take a damn shower. Should I just accept that I’m a Lois, or should I push back against my natural inclinations and try to be more like Marge, or even Fran?

So, I don’t really have a way to conclude this little post, because I honestly do not know. All I know for sure is, when I’m talking to folks from my parish who tell me they homestead and make their own everything, I feel like a shitty Catholic compared to them.

Is it okay to be different? Is it okay to live in the city, or to want to? At this point, I can’t help feeling like Marge is the “best” and most Catholicest Catholic, followed by Fran, and then Lois; but that might just be my emotional perception, influenced by my poor self-image. I feel like perhaps if Lois and Fran become more spiritually advanced, they will develop a true desire to homestead, because it will seem more in keeping with the way God designed humans to live, and they will begin to love God’s will above all other things – right?

Or, maybe that’s now how it happens. Maybe you can be a saint and live happily in the city and shop for groceries. I truly don’t know, at this point. I’d love to hear some other people’s opinions on this.
Some thoughts on the passing of Pope Francis

April 30th, 2025

I write this not as any kind of expert on the papacy, the history thereof, or of Vatican politics or personalities. In fact, I admit, I am not really interested in politics at all. AP Government was my least favorite class in high school (besides gym); it all just seemed so arbitrary. I wish I were the kind of person who was interested in politics; it seems like such a mature, socially-responsible, unselfish thing to be interested in. But, unfortunately, the topic bores me to tears. And Catholic politics are only marginally more interesting to me than regular politics. I don’t really follow the news from Vatican City, beyond reading headlines. So, this little post will be mostly about my personal thoughts and reactions, and my experiences of being Catholic during this papacy.

It’s been over a week now since Pope Francis died. I’ve been digesting the news and sort of collecting my thoughts. I feel like I wouldn’t be a proper Catholic blogger if I didn’t at least post something responding to his death. So, here we go.

I loved Pope Francis. I respected him very much; he said and did a lot of great things, and touched a lot of hearts. He was our Holy Father, the Pope that God chose for us. I was shocked and deeply saddened to learn of his death, and have been praying for him daily.

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My initial discovery of Catholicism in 2012-2013 coincided with the end of Pope Benedict XVI’s reign and the beginning of Pope Francis’s. I was in college. I began my inquiry — attending Mass and meeting up with the campus ministry group and researching the faith — several months before the news that Benedict was retiring.

Here is a weird and silly little thing that I’ve never told anyone or even verbalized before, but may as well share with the internet, why not: I had a strange conviction, which I could not explain (it feels similar to the intuition that I get regarding the gender of my children in utero, which thus far has been correct 3/3 times), that my conversion was the direct result of Pope Benedict XVI’s prayers on behalf of sinners and unbelievers; that he was, somehow, at least partially responsible for my conversion. I still feel this way. I was a fan of his from the beginning, and, unlike some converts, never had any trouble getting on board with the concept of a hierarchy or a Supreme Pontiff, a Vicar of Christ on earth.

But, as you know if you know me or if you’ve read my little conversion story, I was very conflicted, in those early days, about some other aspects of Catholicism. I was still politically and socially quite liberal, and I didn’t feel right about joining a Church that opposed gay marriage, women priests, birth control, and abortion. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to figure this out. It was a weird time for me (for many reasons).

At some point in the midst of this turmoil, I heard the news that Pope Benedict XVI was retiring, which even I knew was unheard-of; the whole Catholic world was shook. Enter Pope Francis. It was a dramatic moment. He was so new and different. The first Jesuit Pope (I was not familiar, at the time, with all the controversy about the contemporary Jesuits), the first Latin American Pope, the first Pope to take the name Francis. Already, people seemed to be talking about him as the “liberal Pope.” Early in his papacy, he made the famous “who am I to judge?” comment, which, basically set the tone for the next twelve years.

You’d think that I, as a liberal-leaning wannabe-Catholic, ought to have been thrilled. This was the direction that I wanted the Church to go – wasn’t it? But something about it rubbed me the wrong way, and I couldn’t even explain why. It felt like something was crumbling beneath me. What was there to rebel against now?

I think it was evident, even then, that I didn’t actually want a modern Church. What I wanted was a secure foundation, a tradition to belong to: belong to surely enough that I could rebel against it, for a little while, like a teenager against its parents, but eventually come home. (I never really had a rebellious phase, as a teenager; I think perhaps this confused time was the substitute that my psyche came up with, for me.) Everyone knows that what stubborn, oppositional kids need is a firm hand: they need discipline, not permissiveness; that’s what they instinctively crave. It’s the same with unruly horses. A feisty horse only trusts a handler who’s strong and firm and fearless. It’s kind of counterintuitive; you’d think such creatures would thrive on gentleness and softness, but, it’s the exact opposite. That was me: I was the green horse, the oppositional child. On some deep level, I already knew that what I needed and wanted was something solid and unyielding.

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For the last week, it’s been seriously annoying me how everyone, especially non-religious atheists, are all over social media posting about how Pope Francis was “the best pope ever” and “just what the Church needed.” As if they’re experts on what makes a good Pope! Shouldn’t the fact that the liberal atheists love him so much, be a red flag in itself?

Yes, I loved Pope Francis. I loved seeing his photo on the wall in the vestibule in Church. He was our Holy Father, and I loved him like a member of my family. My own family of origin is not Catholic, and I don’t always agree with all of their life choices, and I love them none the less.

I don’t think Pope Francis was “the best Pope ever” or “exactly what the Church needed.” I’m no expert, but based on all the evidence I’ve seen, there are a lot of things that did not go well in the Church during his papacy. For example, Germany. It disturbed me quite a bit that Pope Francis would say mean things about Traditionalists and push further restrictions on the TLM, while turning a blind eye to the bishops in Germany, who are doing blatantly heretical things.

I know the stupid secular media likes to distort a lot of things Pope Francis said, to push their own liberal agenda. Like, he never actually, literally said that “all religions are a path to God,” nor did he approve “blessing of same-sex couples” (what he approved was blessing of each individual, which is kind of a no-brainer; literally anyone can get a blessing from any clergyman, no matter what the state of their soul). But, I did take issue with the way Pope Francis phrased some of these things. It just created more confusion. I think what we need at this time is a Pope who’s uncompromising, who leaves no room for misinterpretations.

A lot of the quotes from Pope Francis that I see these non-religious liberal fans of his posting, have nothing whatsoever to do with Christ. A lot of feel-good, warm-and-fuzzy, vaguely spiritual, “one big human family” type sound bites. I don’t know how much of that is accurate, like, how much of this the Pope actually said; and it’s certainly not true that he never spoke about Christ, of course he did!, but, I just don’t love that that’s the image that people have gotten of the Pope. Doesn’t it seem like he ought to be inseparable, in the eyes of the public, from Christianity? Surely this is largely the media’s fault. I’m not trying to make accusations. I just don’t feel right about where things are at, with this papacy.

I also am not entirely comfortable with the whole liberation theology philosophy that he pushed, which basically turns the Church into one big charity organization, and gives the impression that the way to save your soul is by being nice to others and giving money to charity. That is not what the Church teaches. We are not saved by doing good stuff. If our soul is in order and our priorities are straight, then good works will, without fail, arise naturally from that; which is why “faith without works is dead.” But it doesn’t go the other way. The Church is not a social justice organization. Its mission is Christ’s mission, i.e.: to save souls. You don’t save your soul just by doing charity work. If you read even a little bit of the Gospel or the great saints’ writings, this is painfully evident.

This liberation theology thing trickles down from Rome to individual parishes around the world. Which explains why I always so lost and misplaced in the NO churches that I belonged to.

I’m not built for missionary work, marches, or volunteering on the streets. I’m an INTJ/ILI with AvPD. I’m still figuring out how to best serve God and the world in my life, but I know for sure, after many, many awkward failed attempts to “push myself out of my comfort zone,” that ministry work, committees, and “being active in the community” are not my calling. For someone like me, there’s no place in the modern Church. Someone like me will always feel like they simply cannot belong or fit in, in a Church that teaches liberation theology. It wasn’t until I found the SSPX, where real Catholicism is taught, that I understood all of this about myself and the Church.

Why would a Pope eschew the beautiful, perfect Catholic Tradition, which is the actual essence of Catholicism itself? It’s confusing, to me. Confusion, that’s the thing. I feel like this papacy was marked by confusion. I’m grateful that I found a safe haven of sanity in the SSPX.

The Society has the most commonsense approach to all this. Of course Pope Francis is our Pope. Sedevacantism is silly. Vatican II was a valid council. But it’s also true that, since Vatican II, Rome has veered away from Tradition, which is a problem. Thus, the SSPX recognizes the authority and legitimacy of the Pope while also continuing to teach the faith in its entirety, because someone’s gotta do it.

So yes, I loved Pope Francis. One of my favorite things about him was that he addressed climate change head-on. I know the whole question of climate change is up for debate, in the Traditional community; lots of people aren’t even sure that it’s real, or firmly believe it’s a hoax. But I feel like there’s enough evidence for it (including the simple fact I’ve observed myself, over my 35 years of life, that fall and winter are getting warmer and less snowy, and summer is getting longer and hotter) that we ought to do something about it. And by “we,” I mean humanity in general: specifically big corporations, the food industry, the air travel industry. Little people like you and me, there’s really not much we can do, and tbh I’m sick of being shat on from all angles for not doing enough when even my very best efforts are not even a drop in the bucket compared to the steps that need to be taken by these huge organizations; but, what else is new. But that’s a rant for another day, lol.

And I loved that he was so compassionate. He was nothing if not compassionate and loving; in so many ways, he was really Christlike. I was sad when he got sick. I helped my young daughter mail him a get well soon card, and we pray for him all the time.

But no, I don’t think he was the best Pope ever. And I sincerely hope and pray that our next Pope is someone friendlier to Catholic Tradition.

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It’s scary to think about dying. About going before the judgment seat of Christ. Even more so for a priest, let alone a Bishop or the Pope himself! With that much responsibility for souls, the judgment will be so much stricter. I read somewhere once that “the road into hell is paved with the skulls of bishops.” It’s a sobering thought. I’m not pretending to be any expert, like I said, but I do think it’s super important that we all pray for our deceased Pope. Pope Francis himself once said that he likes to think of hell as empty. It’s a nice thought, and I sure hope he’s right, but unfortunately there’s a lot of evidence to the contrary.

The Church is really divided and confused right now, and it’s sad. I hope that, in praying for Pope Francis and his successor, we Catholics can find unity. Hopefully the next Pope will help us work towards that.
What if the antivaxxers are right?

March 21st, 2025

As someone with AvPD, I’m honestly not a huge fan of myself. There are not many things about my personality that I’m proud of — but, I think one of my best traits is: I’m open-minded. When I hear any kind of moral claim, I never dismiss it offhand. If someone believes sincerely that something is right or wrong, I take them seriously. I like to actually consider whether they may be right. I have my own convictions, of course, but I’m constantly considering and weighing them (“curating my beliefs,” as I once heard someone in college describe it) and re-examining myself to make sure I’m on what I think is the right track. This trait of mine can make me somewhat neurotic and insecure, but, it is also why I have been able to correct my religious and political beliefs pretty drastically over the years. Some people might think it’s a crazy way to be, but, I think it’s important to not believe everything we think, to take no moral claim at face value, and to not assume that anything is stupid until we really look at it. Just because a lot of people believe something does not make it true.

Which is why, even though I’m pretty pro-vaccine myself, I don’t just dismiss the antivax perspective offhand. I’ve spent a good amount of time and energy wondering about this.

When I say “pretty pro-vaccine,” what I mean is, I take my kids to a “normal” pediatrician, and all of them are up-to-date on all of their routine immunizations as recommended by the AAP. I also get them yearly flu shots, and get flu shots for myself and my husband, and will even get a vaccine during pregnancy, like flu or TDAP, if my doctor recommends it. However, I have qualms about brand new vaccines like the Covid one, and I will not get that one for my kids, nor would I get it for myself today. (Too many sketchy side-effects, and it came out so quickly, etc.)

I’m sure the antivaxxers think I’m an idiot for that. Similarly, most of the pro-vax crowd just dismiss the antivaxxers offhand as idiots. Literally, both sides accuse the other of “not doing their research” and “being mind-controlled by the government” and “falling victim to misinformation.”

This is why, in my opinion, there’s no real point “doing your research” when it comes to whether or not to vaccinate. Because, depending on where you do that research, you’re going to arrive at one of two very different conclusions. It’s just like with global warming. One website presents concrete evidence that it is real; another website presents concrete evidence that it is not. “Just do your research,” both sides scream at you!

But the first thing, the more important thing, is figuring out whom to trust.

For me, the question boils down to: do I trust these doctors? Why or why not? Whom do I trust more: this doctor who’s recommending vaccinations, or these people on the internet who recommend fresh air and a healthy diet?

You can never really know whom to trust. And you have to choose someone. That is one of the scary things about being human.

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I don’t like vaccinating my kids, tbh. I always worry about it. Especially when they’re tiny. I know the chances of serious complications are very rare, but they’re not nonexistent. With each vaccination, there is a nonzero chance that my child will die as a result. I’ve really considered just not doing it. Which is why I sympathize with the antivaxxers.

I’m not a scientist, but I did pay some attention in school, so I think I have a grasp of the basics. If I understand correctly, a vaccine is basically a tiny dose of a neutralized version of a virus, which, when introduced to your body, causes your body to produce antibodies to that virus, so that, if you encounter the actual virus out in the wild, your body will react to it with stronger defenses, thus preventing you from becoming deathly ill. They don’t prevent sickness entirely, but definitely reduce the severity of infection. It seems like a pretty simple concept to me; I mean, I learned this stuff in middle school. A vaccine is not some strange mystery chemical concocted by the government. It’s pretty basic biology, isn’t it?

Now, you might be arguing that public school is just another mind control agent, and I’ve been brainwashed by politicians. And I guess I can’t prove that that’s not true. But, I like to think that I have a pretty discerning eye about what parts of my public school education were brainwashy (“use condoms,” “the Catholic Church is bad and evil,” “feminism is great,” etc.) and which parts were just non-politically-weighted information (the quadratic formula, the periodic table, the definition of a vaccine, etc.). An antivaxxer might argue that I’m not being discerning enough, that all of the things I was taught were just lies cooked up by the government to turn me into a drone. At this point, we arrive at one of those instances where I have to choose who to trust. The teachers and textbooks and my own brain’s faculty of processing the likelihood of the information presented, or, a stranger telling me none of that is true?

I also have to consider the statistics. It is undeniable that the chances of something bad happening from a vaccine are very, very small. I’ve always had all of mine, as have just about everyone that I personally know, and none of us suffered any adverse effects. (I know this is survivor’s bias, to an extent, and like I said I know this does not negate the fact that there is a nonzero chance of death from a vaccine; I’m just saying it seems much more likely that one will survive.) And I’ve experienced myself that vaccines drastically reduce symptoms of infection (we had our flu shots last fall; this winter, when we got the flu, we only had a pretty mild version of it, with no loss of appetite or chills or body aches or anything). Also, if you trust the historical data, it’s plain to see that, since the advent of vaccines, some preventable diseases have basically become obsolete. (Until recently, that is – this random resurgence of measles in the Midwest, which, you cannot tell me is not the result of antivaxxers’ decisions.) So, stepping away from the internet and all the drama, and simply looking at all of the statistics that I’ve ever been shown, it seems like a wise decision to get vaccinated.

Does this ease my worry about getting my kids vaccinated? Not really. But I have to choose to either do it or not do it, and I guess I just find the science more compelling and convincing than the alternative.

“But don’t you trust God?” an antivaxxer might ask me. “God’s design is perfect. He wouldn’t create something that humans need to ‘improve’ upon with their modern scientific innovations. If we just cooperate with his design, reduce our exposure to toxins, and eat home-grown whole foods instead of all the garbage that people are eating today…”

But then, why did people die of preventable diseases back in the day before processed foods and automobiles, before all of these modern innovations?

I agree that God’s design is perfect. God did not invent sickness or suffering or death. These entered the world as a result of man’s first sin. God suffers these to exist in our world because they are what we chose, and in His great mercy He allows us to have our free will and do the things we want. So, basically, we’re stuck living with the results of sin, and trying to make the best of it. Perhaps “making the best of it” sometimes means using our God-given faculties of reason and scientific deduction to help preserve human life.

Or should we just roll over and die? Should we just accept that sickness and death are the results of our sin, and stop trying to fight them? Is it a bad thing to want to heal the sick or prevent death? – That’s an absurd idea! Christ Himself healed the sick and raised the dead!

On that note, some antivaxxers might argue that, in the face of dire illness, we should just turn to prayer. We should just trust that God will heal whom He wants to heal, and if it is not His will, then someone will not heal, regardless of whether they receive treatment or not.

Is all human intervention bad? On the contrary, isn’t it immoral, if you see someone suffering and have a way to mitigate that suffering, to not do anything? Don’t we believe that sometimes God’s will is carried out on earth through the work of humans?

Some of these crunchy types will claim that “natural” is always better. But, I’m pretty sure that a healthy Catholic POV of “nature” teaches otherwise. Our nature is fallen. Our nature causes us to sin. By nature, we are inclined to selfishness, temptation, and evil. We’re not animals; “natural” doesn’t always necessarily mean “better.” What’s good for us is not what’s natural, but what is supernatural.

Not that modern medicine is supernatural; it’s plainly not. It’s man-made. But is everything man-made always an abomination? Humans have written great works of literature, painted great works of art, designed and built incredible churches and castles, built ships that sail across the ocean – and, yes, have come up with vaccines that all but eradicate deadly diseases. “But Mith, you can’t compare a vaccine, which distorts God’s design, with these other man-made works, which cooperate with and glorify God’s design.” Once again, though – a vaccine isn’t some mystery chemical. It’s pretty basic biology. It’s exposure to a virus, causing your body to do what God in His glorious wisdom designed it to do: produce antibodies to help preserve your life. So really, don’t vaccines cooperate beautifully with God’s perfect design?

All of this is just a little snippet of the back-and-forth that’s gone through my head over the last five or six years since I’ve been raising kids and making important, terrifyingly irreversible decisions about their health.

And this is why I will continue to vaccinate, even though I don’t love it. Medical intervention is scary! No one likes it! Just yesterday, a loved one of mine underwent open-heart surgery to repair a valve, with the aim of preventing future heart attack or stroke. It was a nightmare! For all of us in the family! No one wants to undergo open-heart surgery. It is scary; everything about it seems wrong; a big part of you wants to be like, “no, don’t slice open this person, that’s dangerous! Those organs were never meant to see the light of day, this is unnatural!” But, the alternative is leaving that person with increased vulnerability to heart attack and stroke. Isn’t that worse? God has designed us with brains that can learn about our health and improve upon it. He has designed the human body in such a brilliant way that it can survive surgery, heal, and recover. I think that’s pretty cool.

Surgeries, vaccines, and medical interventions aim at preserving life. How can that be a deviation from God’s design?

Like I said, I’m constantly weighing and considering and re-evaluating my beliefs, so, I can’t promise that I won’t one day become an antivaxxer. (There was a time in my life when I never would have imagined myself a conservative Catholic, yet, here we are.) And if you have a super compelling argument in favor of the antivax position, I’m all ears. But, for right now, this is where I’m at with it. And, to be frank, I’m pretty annoyed that measles has come back, and I’m annoyed that there’s this expectation that all TradCaths have to be antivaxxers who shun modern medicine. Yes, the ways of the world are dangerous, and can lead us astray if we’re not careful; but let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Is NFP birth control, and is its use ever justified?

February 6th, 2025

Revised April 2025

Is NFP birth control? I’ve already touched on this question in another post, but am feeling a need to delve into it more specifically.

You’ll see a lot of folks, especially the more modern-leaning, Christopher West-informed Catholics, who believe that using NFP to avoid counts as being open to life. It’s perfectly fine to avoid pregnancy for serious reasons, they say, as long as you use NFP. Because that way you’re still having sex the appropriate way (i.e. no birth control or “pull-out” or anything like that).

But are you really being open to life?

Some of the “rad trad” types believe that controlling your fertility at all — that trying to avoid (TTA) ever — is always wrong. Because approaching sex in such a way that you are trying to avoid conception, is, in fact, having a contraceptive mindset. It is corrupting the true purpose of marriage, not to mention, it shows a lack of faith in God.

Is NFP birth control? As far as I can see, yes, it definitely is.

Because it seems pretty obvious that you’re not being “open to life” if you’re intentionally avoiding using fertile days. To say that TTA using NFP constitutes being open to life, is literally the same as saying that using condoms or any other birth control method is “being open to life,” because these methods are also never 100% guaranteed!

In fact, NFP instructors trying to sell their method will boast of its effectiveness: “more effective than birth control when done correctly!” And this is true. Personally, if I were really seriously TTA for some extreme, life or death reason, I’d absolutely prefer to use NFP rather than contraceptives, because it’s more reliable! It is more effective! If you use a condom on a fertile day and it breaks… yikes, vs., if you simply avoid the days when there is any possibility of conceiving, you literally cannot get pregnant. People really struggle to understand that, that biology works that way. People tend to think that, because ejaculation occurs inside of a vagina, there is always a chance of pregnancy. (This stupid misinformation is drilled into our heads in public school health class, as well as by most healthcare providers.) But, literally, that is only the case 5 or 6 days out of the month. NFP is extremely reliable when done correctly.

But that’s the catch: correctly.

You hear that NFP babies are super common, and that scares some avoiders off of NFP. People will always say “oh but I got pregnant using NFP” or “my sister got pregnant twice using NFP” – well, that is because you were doing it wrong. You either made a mistake somewhere, or you are not being honest with yourself about how thorough you were. No shame in this. I’ve been there. Doing NFP correctly is hard. It is a cross to bear. People mess it up either because they don’t have the patience to track accurately, or they don’t have the willpower to abstain during fertile days. Or, they are not being entirely honest with themselves (I like to think I’m pretty honest with myself, but, the temptation to be like “oh, surely this isn’t really a fertile day” is real, sometimes). NFP is also highly unnatural. Everything about it is contrary to a healthy, happy marriage. That’s why it’s so easy to mess up.

People who claim to be “open to life” while using NFP probably say that because what they mean is, if a slip-up were to happen, they would still keep that baby no matter what. But, if they’re really working hard to prevent slip-ups… I don’t know if they can properly call themselves “open to life,” at least not to the extent that someone who does not practice NFP is open.

What level of openness are we required to practice? Are we required to be radically open? Or are we allowed to plan, but required to accept God’s “veto” of our plans, if He chooses to do that? I’m honestly not sure about this one, which is why I’m writing this post.

All of that being a tangent to say that NFP is extremely effective, so much so that I think it actually is birth control.

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NFP is birth control. That much is pretty plain. But, on to part two of this post. Is use of NFP ever justified? Some say yes, it’s absolutely fine. Others say no, never.

“Grave reasons” or “serious reasons” is typically what you hear. If you have a “grave” or “serious” reason to avoid, then use NFP. But, IMO, the instructions from Rome are really, really vague regarding what a grave or serious reason actually is. They allude to financial or health reasons (although some other sources say financial reasons are actually not valid), but, they don’t really elaborate. I guess, to be fair, it would be hard to do that, since each family is so unique. I will do my best to thoroughly consider potential financial and health-related reasons below.

Financial reasons

In a perfect world, all married couples would be able to freely trust God with their fertility. But let’s be real. Life in this part of the world today is simply not what it was pre-industrial revolution. Lifestyle, for most people, is very different than it was two hundred years ago. We don’t live in synch with nature like we used to (and many of us simply don’t have that option). We have things like student debt, cars, car payments, mortgages, credit scores. The whole health care and insurance situation is fucked. Self-sufficiency is not the norm, it’s a luxury for those who can afford land and livestock. Living by today’s standards (with electricity and running water and climate control) costs a lot. It would probably be different if you lived like the Amish, but in our world, for most of us, it seems pretty unrealistic, and even unwise, to throw caution completely to the winds w/r/t conceiving children.

And society expects us to provide certain things for our kids, beyond just education, food, and shelter. We are also expected to provide them with material comfort, security, opportunities, and enrichment. People will go so far as to accuse you of child abuse if you cannot afford such things as family vacations, a college savings fund, or one whole bedroom per child.

Is there any weight to these accusations? Is it actually unethical to have kids if they’re going to have to share a bedroom, or never go on vacation, or have to work a job to save for college?

Personally, I’m a minimalist about these kinds of things. Vacations, to me, are fun but unnecessary. I don’t really feel I need a lot, materially – I did not grow up financially comfortable by any means, but my childhood was happy and not lacking. I always think it is so bizarre and alien when someone feels a college savings account is a life or death necessity. Yes, it would be awfully nice to have, sure – but, is my life worthless because I have student debt? Would I be better off never having been born? I don’t think any good Catholic will agree with that take!

Perhaps it’s not fair to generalize from my own experience. Just because I don’t require nice things, doesn’t mean all kids don’t… or don’t they? Does anyone really require those kinds of things?

Our modern society thinks life is meaningless if it’s not comfortable. That you’re better off dead if you don’t have nice things, if you have to struggle. A pretty twisted and sick mindset, IMO.

So, in general, I personally really don’t think finances are a pressing enough reason to avoid having a baby. In general.

But, when it comes to finances: I think there actually is a really pressing reason why use of NFP might be not only justified, but necessary. And that is: debt. If the parents have debts that they’re truly unable to pay, that’s a serious problem. Not debts that they are making timely payments on— I think it’s totally fine to go ahead and be open to life, if you’re able to manage your debts responsibly — but if you’re drowning in debt and have no way to start paying those debts off, then probably don’t have another kid.

It’s pretty simple, after all, isn’t it? We have an ethical duty to pay our debts. It is a sin not to do that. Having children in this day and age, unfortunately, costs a lot of money: you have to pay the hospital or midwife, you have to pay the pediatrician, and you have to feed them and educate them, all of which cost money if you’re doing it right. Intentionally having another child when you know full well that it would make you unable to pay your debts, might even be a sin — right? (Even if those debts are stupid; because it should not cost this much to have a kid, or to get basic health care: unfortunately, those are the circumstances that we’re in, and stamping our feet and wishful thinking will not change that.)

And we know that in Catholic moral philosophy, the ends do not justify the means. Even such a very good end as having a child does not justify the means of committing a sin. We’re looking for “grave reasons” to avoid here, and nothing is more grave than sin, right? Not financial insecurity, not even physical health. I’d have to check with a priest about this, but this seems to make sense to me.

Living in hardship is not an ethical failing. Your kids sharing a bedroom is not an ethical failing. Not being able to afford vacations, horseback riding lessons, a college savings plan — none of those are reasons not to have kids, IMO. But failing to pay debts is a sin, and sin is a pressing matter. (Now, if someone conceived on accident, and it was an honest mistake, that’s a different story, and the life of that child is obviously more important than any financial debt. I’m talking about intentionally conceiving, or being irresponsible and allowing it to happen when you know you ought not to.)

Health reasons

And so but what about health reasons? Are those serious? Obviously, if someone has life-or-death physical health reasons, such as cancer treatments or whatever, that is a good time to TTA using NFP. I think that goes without saying. Yes, there are cases of healthy babies being born in such situations, but it’s risky, and I think we have a responsibility to protect our own health.

Or, if a mom has a c-section for one baby, and wants to allow her body the recommended eighteen months-two years to heal so that she can plan for a natural birth for subsequent pregnancies (because, after all, if she can have natural births, her body will be better able to handle many pregnancies and births!) — isn’t that a valid reason? Or, should that mom just accept that, if she has another baby in the near future, she’s going to be a c-section mom forever?

What about if pregnancy is really hard on a mom, physically? Maybe she has hyperemesis gravidarum, or some other nasty symptom that makes pregnancy really hard on her, and takes away from her ability to care for her existing children or accomplish her daily tasks. Is she still required to keep being open?

I know that, personally, I used to feel like NFP was never, ever justifiable. Now, being pregnant with my fourth at 35, while I have a 5, 3, and 2 year old to take care of, as well as a house, and my nausea and fatigue have been harder this time around — I really begin to see why some feel the need to TTA. I was basically incapacitated for three months, and my kids suffered because of it. I don’t have a “village” around me to really help out, so it’s all on me. I admit, for months, my kids watched TV literally morning to night, ate no home-cooked meals, only processed snacks, and only had a bath every three or four days, while the house around us went to absolute shit and we had to wade through clutter everywhere we went. I did what I could, but I had no help. Pregnancy sickness is real.

Should I keep on doing this again and again, forcing my kids to miss out on months of their life? Does the good of having another sibling outweigh the bad of that lost time? Which responsibility is more pressing, my responsibility to take care of my kids and home (beyond just the bare basics, that is), or my responsibility to trust God and “be fruitful and multiply”? I really, honestly don’t know.

It’s hard.

Which brings me to mental health reasons. What about mental health? God made people with different personalities, different energy levels, different capacities for expending vs. conserving energy. Someone who is an introvert and requires a certain amount of quiet and “conservation” time, simply would not thrive with more than five or six kids!

Or, could they? Wouldn’t God grant them the grace to make it work, if they trusted Him? After all, kids get older and more self-sufficient. Not that they don’t still require attention, but, as they grow up it does get easier on Mom, strictly physically speaking. She will have more opportunities for “me time” when her kids grow up, no matter how many of them she has, right? It’s just a brief period of her life, when her kids are little; shouldn’t she sacrifice her peace, for the good of bringing kids into the world? Maybe some would say yes. After all, worldly happiness isn’t everything, right?

Personally, I’m a slow-moving type of person who requires a lot of time with my own thoughts. I can’t just rush around accomplishing tasks all the time nonstop. If you’re not of this personality type, you might just say I’m “lazy,” but that’s not it, because I’m actually pretty disciplined and productive. I simply need to plan for periods of time during the day when I can sit still and read or write or whatever, like I’m doing right now. My mental health suffers if I never get to pause. My mood suffers, and I become unpleasant and eventually snap. Is this a valid reason to stop having kids? I honestly don’t know. If I were holier and more saintly, I guess I wouldn’t require “me time.” But, I’m not that advanced.

Or what about those women who suffer from debilitating postpartum depression? Or, God forbid, postpartum psychosis? For some women this is incredibly real and even dangerous. I can’t see how God would be offended if such a mom avoided or at least postponed pregnancy — right?

Or maybe there are family reasons. Maybe one spouse wants to keep having kids, but the other doesn’t. We can’t just disregard the feelings of our spouse, even if we think they are wrong. Sometimes, in marriage, we have to sacrifice our vision of the picture-perfect, most morally-unimpeachable family life, to accommodate our spouse’s feelings (because it’s not really a perfect or ethical family life if you disregard your spouse’s feelings, is it).

Maybe some couples are more spiritually advanced to the point where they truly aren’t bothered by any worldly concerns at all. They don’t care if they don’t have free time; they get all the mental health support they need from the Sacraments. They are basically saints already. That’s awesome! God has been generous to them, and they should absolutely return that generosity by having lots of kids.

But, not everyone is that spiritually advanced. Some of us are just doing our best. We shouldn’t pretend to be further along than we are. We have to accept and be at peace with the degree of sanctity that God has permitted us to reach. If we simply don’t have the emotional/spiritual/mental capacity to be good parents to lots and lots of kids, then, isn’t it prudent and responsible to avoid having more of them?

I’m inclined to think that yes, in such cases, it is actually good and necessary to TTA. I’m not sure about this, but it seems to make the most sense to me.

I am sure of at least one thing: no couple who has the privilege of financial abundance, freedom from debt, great physical and mental health, and a “village” around them to make family life easier, should ever look down their nose at NFP users who are doing their earnest best. You are in that position because you are lucky. (True, maybe you worked hard to get to this point, but, Who gave you the grace to be able to work that hard? Nothing that we have comes from us, after all. We’re not all built the same, and you truly don’t know what it’s like inside someone else’s head, or to have their life.) Being lucky and blessed does not make you morally superior to anyone else.

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So, as you can see, I’m still conflicted, but I do believe that there are sometimes pressing reasons to use NFP. Even though it’s birth control and not “open to life,” NFP is definitely superior to other methods of birth control, because, like I said earlier, it doesn’t corrupt the sexual act itself in any way. You’re not mutilating your body or messing with your hormones or placing a barrier between you and your spouse. It still sucks (it really sucks), but, you can see why the Church does OK its usage in certain scenarios.

But I’m definitely open to having my mind changed on this (believe me, I’d love to have more kids!), so if you have a strong argument to the contrary, please, send it my way!
Should I fast for Lent if I have a history of EDs?

January 26th, 2025

I’m not here to quote the Catechism or any authority on this, since, as far as I have been able to tell, there is no authoritative advice on this particular question – if there were, I wouldn’t be here writing this speculative little blog post, would I?

I know that those with physical health concerns are exempt from fasting, so, obviously, if you’re in early ED recovery and were underweight and are actively trying to restore weight, definitely don’t fast. But what about those of us who have been physically healthy for a while?

For those who aren’t aware (although, I’m assuming that, if you clicked on this post, you probably have some familiarity with EDs), an ED is not the type of problem that once you’re eating well again, you’re fine. It’s like an addiction in that it is very much a mental/emotional problem, and it is permanent, it stays with you your whole life, and “being in recovery” is always an ongoing, active process. You have to choose it every day. Even those who are doing really well are always at risk of relapse. Also, just because someone looks healthy on the outside does not mean they are healthy. Many, many people with terrible, life-ruining EDs might actually be normal-sized or heavy. Hope that clears up any potential misunderstandings.

Lent will be here soon, and so I am once again asking myself: what is a person in recovery from an ED supposed to do?

(I should specify here: someone with a history of ED who, like me, is not yet very advanced in the spiritual life. If you’re super advanced spiritually, to the point where worldly concerns no longer seriously bother you at all, and the ED stuff no longer has any kind of hold on your mind (except, maybe, in the form of fleeting temptation), then this whole post probably doesn’t apply to you. I’m talking about those of us who are still in what St. Teresa of Avila would call the first two to three Mansions of the soul – those of us who are still at all bothered by things of the world. St. Teresa compares these worldly concerns to rodents, snakes, and vermin that sneak in the doors of the Mansion. I feel like, for someone in these outer rooms, it’s probably not a good idea to pick up these vermin and play with them and try to befriend them — which is, basically, what fasting from food when you have a history of ED actually constitutes.)

You may think it’s a simple answer: just don’t fast from food. Find some other way to fast, such as from caffeine, alcohol, social media, online shopping, or what have you. This seems to be the prevailing opinion in online Catholic places I’ve visited.

However, I’m not sure if the great saints would agree. I’m thinking of such saints as Augustine, Basil the Great, and John Chrysostom, who stressed the importance of subjugating the flesh rather than being subject to it – referring to food and hunger, not to anything else. I can’t help but wonder if these great saints would think it’s a lazy cop-out on our behalf to say that we can’t fast because it affects our mental health adversely.

Throughout history, you see great saints who barely ate anything at all, or fasted on bread and water only, and who nevertheless were healthy and well and thrived until very old age. Look at the monks on Mt. Athos, always strictly fasting, yet some of the healthiest people on earth! So, doesn’t that prove that it’s just weak and lame of us, to claim that we can’t fast because it would “harm our emotional health?” I feel like, by playing this card, we out ourselves as just pampered, wimpy 21st century Westerners with no real problems.

Of course, you might argue that, well, fasting, in our case, could likely put us in a state of mind that’s vulnerable to relapse, and if that happens, then our physical health would suffer too, which perhaps feels less wimpy than complaining about our feelings. But, for counterpoint, see previous paragraph. We shouldn’t worry so much about our physical health, right, because the great saints have shown us that, if we truly fast for God, He won’t let it actually harm us.

But therein lies the problem, I think. Is someone with an ED even capable of fasting for God? I kind of don’t think so. I know in my case, whenever I even think about restricting food, it lights up the “yes, weight loss!” and/or the “I will be so perfect!” centers in my brain, out of which practically nothing good ever proceeds. I imagine it’s the same for anyone who’s had a serious or long-lasting ED. It seems impossible for us to fast without it being selfish (which an ED very much is, essentially). Even if we think we’re doing it for God, we’re probably actually getting some addictive, ego-pleasing little hit out of it. Heck, I think even if we yielded control to someone else, did it someone else’s way, let someone else prescribe us a specific plan with exact instructions what to eat and what not to, it would still light up all those disordered centers in our brains, because we would follow instructions the best, following the instructions would make us morally unimpeachable, etc. These processes are immediate, emotional reactions, not a conscious thought process that we can choose to interrupt.

I guess we could, with constant effort, work on fasting while also working on overcoming this disordered connection. But let’s be real, if fixing that broken connection were actually possible, EDs wouldn’t be such a cruelly persistent problem. As I said earlier, there is no cure. And the mental burden placed on an ED recoverer trying to fast, could be likened to that of a bona fide alcoholic trying to practice drinking in moderation. It simply does not work. Alcohol in any quantity is bad for the alcoholic.

So does it follow that restricting food, to any degree, is always bad for an ED recoverer?

I’m not sure. From my own experience, I know that, at times, as a recovered person, I realize how much physically better I feel when I eat lightly and get some exercise. Not even in a way that’s related to my size (not consciously, anyway); I simply feel physically better, and realizing that, as a recovered person, is a very liberating feeling, because it’s like, hey, I can eat salads and drink water without it being sad and disordered! I can actually choose between light and heavy foods according to my preferences! How novel!

But, at the same time, I’ve realized I have to be really careful when I feel that feeling. Feeling healthy and feather-light is super addictive to me, and pretty soon, if I’m not careful, there’s a law set in stone, and it’s all raw veg all day long whether I like it or not, and this becomes really hard to break out of.

So, is restricting always bad for someone with an ED? No, and yes. It’s slippery.

That’s why I think mandatory fasting from food for a predetermined length of time, is probably a bad idea for anyone with a history of serious ED. Our brains are broken. We just can’t fast like normies can.

But then what are we supposed to do for Lent? Should we just give up social media? That’s a good one, but IMO it doesn’t subjugate the flesh the same way fasting from food does (we who have been chronic restricters are already masters at subjugating the flesh that way, frankly; if you have ever been diagnosed with anorexia, suffice it to say that you’ve already earned an A+ in not yielding to the whims of your stomach). Should we perhaps give up a particular food or kind of food, and replace it with something equally nourishing that we enjoy less? Like, in my case, I might consider replacing my nightly chocolate protein smoothie with, like, a bowl of plain scrambled eggs, or something?

But tbh even the thought of that is lighting up my ED centers again. “Yes, I will be so good, I can do without pleasure!” “I can be so pure!” “I will only consume healthy proteins, I will cut out so much sugar!” To someone who’s never had an ED, these probably sound like great and healthy thoughts – but, if you’re prone to EDs, you get why they are not.

So, I’m inclined to think that any kind of “food law” is a bad idea, for us. We have something of an allergy to food laws.

One of my best, and hardest, Lenten fasts was actually the year I made myself sit down to eat meals with my family three times a day, hahaha. Normally I hate eating meals, and prefer quick, solitary snacks at random times throughout the day, staying pretty hungry until my one “large snack” right before bed. (Don’t talk to me about how unhealthy this pattern is, I already know. Trust me, I’ve spent decades trying to figure out how to manage food in my life, and I finally have a sustainable system that works decently well for me, so I’m not gonna fuck with it.) That Lent was really challenging, especially at first.

But honestly I don’t know if I’d repeat it, because I realized after the fact that any dietary law change like that kind of screws with my head, like, I found myself expecting to lose weight or achieve some higher level of perfection or familial bliss or something, like I’d win some Great Mom award for being so wholesome (“Look at me, I always make sure my family sits down to eat together three times a day, get on my level!”); and, like, I became slightly neurotic and puritanical about it, getting twitchy if my kids were out somewhere and I had to eat alone. It just didn’t feel entirely Lenten, that way, but more like a personal improvement exercise (not necessarily a bad thing, and perhaps I should try it again, but not as a Lenten fast). Self-improvement is not supposed to be the point of Lent at all.

And that’s the thing. It’s not even that fasting is bad for an ED recoverer’s health. It’s that, coming from us, fasting is not a good sacrifice for God.

So what will I do for Lent, then? I must find some way to subjugate the flesh without imposing food laws. Cold showers? Yikes, maybe. Exercise? Risky, as exercise addiction is a very real part of ED for many of us, including me. Waking up early? Extra chores? Yikes, might be a good idea. Will have to give it some prayerful consideration.

“But wait, Mith,” you may be saying, “you say no food laws, but aren’t you a vegetarian?”

I am, indeed, seven days a week. But at this point I’m literally vegetarian out of personal taste. I spent so many years avoiding meat for ethical/ED reasons, that I have developed an aversion to it; nowadays I simply find meat gross. I honestly wish I could go back to eating it, because I struggle with protein intake (see my post about my shitty hair). But when I eat meat I can’t get past the idea that I’m chewing on a carcass, that my stomach has become a graveyard, and it gives me the major ick. Although, I’m not a hardass about it, like, when I was pregnant with my son and randomly craved meat, I honored that and ate what I was craving (Arby’s roast beef sandwiches, and, a real nostalgia flavor for me, Fischer’s pickled bologna).

So would the great saints tell me I’m a wimp, for claiming exemption from fasting? Maybe. But they didn’t live in 21st century America, where EDs are a serious epidemic, so they probably wouldn’t understand. It’s a different world these days. New environments breed new diseases. I’m sure they understand now in Heaven.

After all, there’s nothing great about fasting in and of itself. Just like any suffering, it only has value if you do it for love of God. Which ED folks cannot. So, if we can find other ways to subjugate our flesh for love of God, I don’t know if God will really care that we did it some other way instead of by restricting food. He might even prefer that. At least, I hope so.

ETA: Part Two of this post is now available here!
Toddlers at Mass: ok or no?

December 28th, 2024

A few days ago, I saw a post on one of the Catholic IG pages I follow – a nice little post saying something like (I paraphrase): “let’s encourage parents of small children when we see them struggling at Mass! Children should be welcome in the presence of the Lord, He said so Himself!” A nice sentiment, trying to reassure us parents of noisy, squirmy future saints.

And then, predictably, who do we find in the comment section but a bunch of young men (whose bios mostly said “Class of ‘23,” “Class of ‘26” or some such) saying: “no! parents need to control their kids!” “Teach your kids to behave! Kids need to be taught how to be quiet and sit still!” “Parents of noisy young kids are lazy and selfish! learn to control your spawn or don’t take them in public spaces!” “if your kids are acting up it’s because you’re a bad parent!”

I have a lot of feelings about this.

For one, to these young men: please, go finish your homework, and report back in 10 years or so when you have some actual parenting experience. But, self-righteous college kids aren’t the only ones filing this complaint, so I’d like to take this opportunity to respond to anyone and everyone who’s out there accusing parents of littles of “not disciplining their children” or “not teaching their kids how to behave at Mass.”

Listen: the tl;dr of it is this: we are teaching our children. They are learning. The very word “learning” implies a process, a learning curve. Children below the age of approximately four require plenty of time and practice to learn this skill, and for some, who are more hyperactive or stubborn by nature, it is actually impossible for them to sit quietly for over an hour. You cannot expect them to show up to Mass one day already knowing what to do.

Now, I will admit that parents of disruptive, unruly kids should step out. Most churches have a cry room or a nursery or at least a vestibule or lobby. Just because we have little kids who are struggling, does not mean we are entitled to ruin Mass for everyone else and make life hard for the Priest.

And it is also true that we do need to be making an effort to teach our kids. Don’t be sitting there zoned out while your toddler is running up and down the aisle. Catch that little goblin and take him out! This is especially true of children over age 4-5 or so. Unless they’re special needs, by that point, they do have the mental capacity to follow instructions and sit quietly. If your kids are 7, 8, 9 and making a ton of noise playing with plastic toys in the pews and you’re not shushing them, then yes, sorry, I am judging you and probably even giving you the stink eye.

But those of us with preschoolers and toddlers – either help us out, or leave us alone. We are trying here. Give us a break. Please go read a book and learn about how a toddler’s brain works before you come at us about silencing our kids.

Speaking of books, a while ago I read a really good book from the ‘50s called How To Raise Good Catholic Children or something like that (highly recommend, for moms, btw), and in it, the author (an American mom of like 13 kids) says that babies and toddlers should stay home – that it is neither normal, good, nor necessary to bring babies/kids under kindergarten age to Mass! I guess in that time, people just stayed home with little kids – parents alternated going to Mass with the older kids, or whatever. This very pious woman, writing in the ‘50s, talked like it was simply weird and silly to bring toddlers to Mass, as it would just be disruptive, and besides, parents of young kids are exempt from the Sunday obligation if they don’t have childcare options.

Honestly, thank you to this writer. I don’t know why this custom changed in modern America. These days there’s this huge, well-meaning pressure on parents to “bring your little kids to Mass! Expose them to it early! They will receive so many graces just by being there, and it’s important for them to see their parents at Mass,” etc. In a way, this pressure annoys me even more than the haters telling us we’re bad parents because our 3 year olds make noise. This toxically-positive “bring your kids! they are welcome! don’t let anything stop you!” attitude really creates a massive sense of pressure for us parents of little kids, as if we’re failing our kids and setting them up for a life of sin if we’re not bringing them to Mass weekly from the time they are born.

And I see the results of this pressure in the online Catholic Moms places where I hang out. The absolute suffering that some moms go through to make it to Sunday Mass, whether they’re in the first trimester and horribly sick, or they have multiple toddlers and a baby and no help and they’re trying to wrangle them all and keep everyone quiet – forget being present for the Mass! It just becomes a battle that moms grit their teeth and suffer through weekly, trying to keep their kids calm while feeling the judgment of everyone around them. “But they’re getting so many graces just by being here!” Maybe so, but honestly, an innocent toddler will probably be okay receiving those ever-available graces later on once it doesn’t require such a Herculean effort from their mom.

I see Catholic moms these days in some kind of competition with each other for who’s the toughest. “How soon did you take your newborn to Mass?” “I took mine a week after she was born.” “Oh, well I took mine 3 days after, I’d had a c section and I was in agony the whole time but I did it!” “I took mine the day we got discharged from the hospital, had to sit on a pillow and couldn’t kneel and didn’t hear a word of the Mass, but at least I was there!” What ever happened to Churching of Women, a tradition which honors the six-week recovery period that God has written into a woman’s biology, a period which is recognized and honored in cultures around the world. New moms need to stay home and rest.

Give moms a break. We need to stop pitting them against each other in the suffering olympics. Sickness, recovery, and childcare are all valid exemptions. We’re not holier than anyone else for forcing ourselves to go to Mass when we’re not well or able enough. Winning the suffering olympics will not make you a saint.

And it’s the same with bringing little kids to Mass. Every other post on these forums is “how do I get through Mass? My kids are x, y, and z years old and it’s so hard on me and my husband!” And you inevitably get one-uppy comments like “oh well my kids are x, y, z, a, b, c, d, and e years old, and I take them all by myself because Dad’s in the choir; all you have to do is just… ” (which advice doesn’t work for every kid all the time). The pressure to “bring your kids!” really creates a toxic mindset among Catholic moms, like if we just try harder, suffer more, we’ll be holy like these other moms who appear to be doing it better. I even saw several moms boasting about how they took their babies/toddlers to Midnight Mass on Christmas, because they just hate to miss it (because they’re sooo holy and devout!). A newborn, I can understand, because they sleep at weird hours anyway, but an 18-month old?? At midnight? Do you really think God expects that of you and your poor kid? Just go to the Mass during the day, to fulfill your obligation!

But, and I’ll keep saying it: caring for littles does constitute an exemption! If it’s seriously too hard, you’re off the hook!

That being said, I do bring my little kids to regular Sunday Mass – because of this societal pressure, and because everyone else at my parish does it. But do I wish the customs were different, that I weren’t expected to bring them? With a passion!

Given that there’s this pressure from all sides, our fellow parishioners need to cut us some slack. “Don’t feed your kids snacks in Mass! Don’t bring plastic toys! They should sit quietly and look at a picture book about the Mass, and if they get bored, then you’re just not helping them enough!”

I agree that snacks in the presence of the Lord are not a good idea — at all. I play this one by ear, personally; it depends on the parish. I would never dream of feeding my kids snacks during the TLM! But, when we were still attending the NO, if a quiet snack of some kind kept my kid from screaming, I’d give one. Because which would you rather I do, give them a quiet snack or just let them scream? (And yes, I would give them breakfast beforehand, and a snack in the car on the way here, and yes, I would always clean up the fallen crumbs in the pew after.) Same goes for toys. Absolutely don’t bring noisemaker toys or anything electronic, but if a plastic horse or a dragon puppet keeps my kid from screaming for a couple minutes, best believe I’m packing that sucker in the diaper bag.

“You should be teaching them the parts of the Holy Mass! Of course they’ll get bored if you’re not engaging them.” LISTEN. I try. I educate my kids about the faith constantly, it’s a huge part of their life. My three year old, she already knows the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be by heart, but when she’s already bored and restless and fidgety? She DOES NOT CARE. My almost-two year old, who can ID pictures of Jesus and Mary he’s never seen before, and kisses the crucifix all on his own? When he’s bored and fidgety, cares EVEN LESS. I try, nonetheless, and this is usually how it goes:

Me, whispering: Hey, look! Did you hear that bell ringing? Do you know what that means?

3, screaming, thrashing away from me, grabbing at my veil: Mooooom! No! NOOOO! I want to go outSIDE!!!

Or: me, whispering, pointing: Look, buddy, see up there? who’s that on the cross?

1.5: [starts to scream until I let go of him, then once free, runs off, laughing, and starts trying to mess with neighbor’s personal belongings]

Just one of these would be a challenge, but both at the same time? Come on now. What are we supposed to do?

Fine. Maybe I’m just a terrible parent. Call me what you will, I’ve tried everything. But keep in mind that my four-year-old sits quietly through a full ninety-minute High Mass more than 90% of the time, so am I really that bad, or are kids below a certain age just not designed to sit still and quiet for that long.

“But Mith, my two and three year old sit perfectly quiet and still, it’s not that hard, you just have to train them–”

QUIET! Your kids are not my kids. Congrats!, I’m thrilled for you that you birthed such well-behaved children, gold star and a cookie for the holiest mom ever! But this illogical debate tactic is called survivor’s bias: “I had an okay time, so everyone else should too.”

Moms of young kids are between a rock and a hard place here, where we must either (a) enlist in the suffering olympics and subject ourselves to the judgment of our neighbors by bringing our little kids to Mass, or (b) be treated as if we are not only failing our kids, but sinning by missing Mass, when in fact childcare is a valid exemption and no one ever talks about this fact!! Why does no one ever talk about this fact?

Get this! One time I was even talking to a therapist (a fellow Catholic), and in conversation I mentioned my struggles with wrangling the kids at Mass, and her response (to me, her therapy patient, who struggles with crippling fear of judgment from others) was: “oh, one time I saw this mom at Mass whose toddler kept throwing his toy, and she kept giving it back to him – I wanted to smack her! What an idiot!” Excuse me? I was like, well what if the alternative is the kid screeching if he doesn’t get his toy back? Do you think Mom wants to be leaning over and fetching the damn toy over and over? No, she’s probably doing whatever it takes to keep the kid from screaming! Would you rather the kid screech? Seriously! (Except, I only said that in my head while laughing in agreement, because I am afraid of confrontation and also incapable of being open & honest in therapy, lol.)

Give moms a break!

I know there are sometimes individuals who have auditory issues, like folks with autism or something, for whom the sound of little kids’ voices at Mass is very triggering. I am sorry for these people, I’m sure it’s awful and highly frustrating (and as I said, I do agree that parents need to make an effort and utilize the cry room), but unfortunately, I also don’t think it’s fair for such individuals to expect the whole world to bend to accommodate their unique needs. If one needs a quieter Mass, one can come to the earlier Mass, or on a weekday, or if it’s severe, talk to their Priest about a health-related exemption and possible alternatives.

So please, if you see a mom of littles who’s clearly trying, clearly fighting a battle: be nice to her. Help her out if you can, or offer an encouraging word after Mass. (If you see a mom who’s neglecting her 8, 9, 10 year olds and letting them dink around and cause a ruckus in Mass: by all means, judge away.) But I don’t want to hear anyone, especially know-it-all young men with zero parenting experience, yapping about how moms need to do better.
What music is it ok to listen to?

December 27th, 2024

ETA: a lot of answers to this particular Question That Keeps Me Up At Night can be found here and here. I wrote this before finding these two sources, both of which clarify much of what I was trying to figure out in the post below. I highly recommend checking them out if you’re as concerned about this topic as I am. I feel like these answer the question I asked below of what someone like St. Louis de Montfort would say about contemporary “clean” pop music, and whether something like Christian-themed dubstep is okay. Apparently, neither of these are actually okay, because it is indeed the very rhythms, the actual unnatural structure of the songs, that are problematic.

Dr. K (who is a brilliant Catholic thinker, I always appreciate his writing) says in his article that music based in rhythm rather than melody is base and uncultured, even primitive. That the music of a well-developed society is more melodic, appealing to the intellect more than the flesh. As someone who used to play the drums, and has always loved rhythm and percussion in general, I’m really not sure how I feel about that. I see his point, completely, and it makes sense, and I believe that he is right; but I wonder, is enjoying rhythm always a bad thing?

As you can see, I still find myself wrestling with this question. Anyway, here is the original post (which is, in fact, not the original post, because I keep updating and revising this post):

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Before converting to Catholicism, I used to think that it didn’t matter what kind of music you listened to; what mattered was that you were a “good person” (whatever that nebulous term even means). My whole life, I’d always been embarrassed by much of my musical taste, because I was aware that it was very lowbrow and not the kind of thing to discuss around someone that I wanted to impress; but, I didn’t worry about the actual morality of it. But then, in 2012, I started looking into the Faith, and began to worry that there might be more to it.

Maybe I should change my habits? Or maybe it didn’t really matter, as long as I did all the right things otherwise? I remained very conflicted, and continued listening to my shitty profane music, albeit with a troubled conscience (if you checked this blog before a month or so ago, you may remember my previous post on this topic, in which I yet again demonstrated the mental gymnastics I’d perform in order to justify my listening habits) – all the way up until very recently. To make a long story short: I finally found a solid church to attend, and sought advice from a priest there, and was informed that willfully listening to impure content is, indeed, a venial sin — always.

So, with one or two brief sentences, that good priest basically laid this question to rest, for me: this question which had weighed on me for over a decade. Secular pop radio is generally bad.

But I still find myself wondering about exactly what, then, is permissible. Unlike in the aforementioned previous version of this post, I am no longer pretending to have arrived at a final answer. I’m just wondering aloud here:

Is it only songs with impure or sinful content (i.e. those that celebrate or make light of satanism, greed, envy, murder, drugs, sexual sin/promiscuity, etc.) that are bad to listen to? Or, is everything that’s contemporary or popular bad? Does being played on pop radio automatically make something bad? Or, is it just that, in order to find the few clean songs, you’d have to sit and listen through a bunch of bad ones, so that’s why it’s advised not to listen to pop radio at all?

I kind of assume this to be the case (maybe I should have grilled the priest further, but I truly hate to bother priests, even more than I hate to bother regular people). Because it seems like not every single song that’s popular and secular is bad – right?

Just a couple of examples that come to mind are “Show Me The Meaning of Being Lonely” by BSB, “All Time Low” by Jon Bellion, “What I’ve Done” by Linkin Park, and “Chandelier” by Sia. None of these glorify sin. They talk about it, but they’re not celebrating it the way a lot of mainstream hip-hop does. – But, are they still problematic, simply because they deal with themes of worldly cares and struggles? Or because they are basically Godless, just complaining and whining with no mention of God or of any kind of spiritual sense of hope? You’re just wallowing in the world, then, aren’t you? Isn’t it problematic to just whine and vent about your sadness (or even glorify that sadness) if you’re not putting a Christian spin on it, if you’re not keeping in mind the hope of redemption?

Another thing that got me reconsidering all of this was, shortly before consulting this priest, I read St. Louis de Montfort’s “Secret of the Rosary.” In it, he made one quick mention in some clause somewhere of people who listen to “evil music:” implying that doing so is obviously not something that a Catholic should do.

Which set off alarm bells in my head right away, because, what kind of “evil music” could he possibly be referring to, in 1710 France? I’m no expert on music history, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t have anything that even came close to rivaling the profanity of even our cleanest pop music today. “Chandelier” and “All Time Low,” by St. Louis’s standards, would probably be “evil,” don’t you think? Not only because of the themes, but also simply because of the way they sound. Maybe music that sounds a certain way – like, music that speaks to and excites the flesh, or the emotions, rather than the mind – is automatically evil?

If that’s the case, then is Matthew Parker’s “Light of Dawn” evil because it is dubstep, even though the content is Christian? Or, is it sinful to listen to pop music if the lyrics are in a language I don’t understand (like this one, which is one of my all time favorite songs ever)? Or what about “Dragostea din tei“? Please, don’t tell me the Numa Numa song is sinful!

I wish I could pick St. Louis’s brain about this!

Because (bit of backstory here) I have the misfortune of having always really loved really bad music. Going all the way back to my childhood. I wish I could be like some of my smart and sophisticated friends, who find mainstream contemporary pop and hip-hop just tiring and gross and stupid, preferring cool indie or folk or retro music. I wish I were that cool! I just don’t have a taste for any of that highbrow stuff. The music that I like, I like because it affects my emotions and my flesh: the basest parts of me.

Which is funny, because I truly don’t care for impure content in books or TV/movies. I’ve always hated smut; it is just cringey, it does nothing for me and doesn’t tempt me at all. But rap songs about drugs, cash, strip clubs, and huge butts? Those just really do something to me. I love that shit.

I’ve never quite figured out why this is. Maybe because it is so removed from me, so un-relatable. With my AvPD and history of EDs, I’m basically an extremely repressed and avoidant person with shitty self-esteem and a terrible relationship with my own flesh (I often refer it, to my husband’s great annoyance, as “the meat tank”), and furthermore, have always lived in mortal terror of conflict, of offending someone, of getting in trouble. So, perhaps, these hip-hop songs, which are so visceral, physical, boastful, shameless, and confrontational, so everything that I am not – perhaps they speak to some deeply repressed part of me, and breathe life into it. Who knows.

For Lent this year, I’ve been listening only to classical and sacred music. Now, I’m wondering if I ought to continue this resolution permanently. The thought of doing that is awfully depressing. I’ve already resolved, since talking to that priest, to quit listening to the vulgar stuff, the stuff that celebrates sin. I figured that I could still listen to the stuff that’s not vulgar. But maybe I ought to stop listening to that, too?

Is it always bad to consume media that excites the emotions in a non-religious way? (I’m also thinking here about books or TV/movies that have romantic storylines – even if they don’t have any graphic content. Is it bad to love romance stories? This should probably be a post for another day.) We know that the passions are not a worthwhile thing, generally. But they’re not always bad, right? It’s a good (but not necessary) thing to feel passionately attracted to your spouse. It’s a good (but not necessary) thing to feel love and fondness for your family and friends, and to feel sadness when something bad happens to them. It’s a good (but not necessary) thing to be moved to tears by meditating on Christ’s Passion or on our own sins. But, all of these are instances where the passions are serving our soul on its journey heavenward. Listening to secular music that arouses emotion about secular things: is this always a bad thing to do?

I should probably find a chance to talk to a priest about this, but, for the time being, I assume that it is safe to approach this in the same way that I currently approach fast days as someone not super advanced spiritually and still in the grip of an ED: I don’t think it’s a good idea for someone like me to strictly fast from food on fast days, because of the state that I’m in. Similarly, at the stage I’m currently in spiritually, I really don’t know if it would be a good idea for me to give up all “fun” music entirely. Probably, when I make more progress, I will desire to give up more things. But would it be helpful to push myself to go ahead and give it all up now?

Maybe it would. But, I am weak. I’m still living in the world, and still desirous of some worldly pleasures. And I think it is probably at least better, and a move in the right direction, to start by giving up the explicitly sinful stuff (which, if I may be allowed to whine for a minute, is an embarrassingly big deal, for me, considering the kind of stuff I typically listen to). I am at least glad that I am making progress. I feel like maybe a good place to start is to only listen to things that I would be totally comfortable listening to with my five-year-old daughter present.

Or? I am curious to hear what others think. Do other practicing Catholics listen to any secular pop/rock/hip-hop at all? Do we just limit ourselves to the clean stuff? Or do we eschew it entirely?