Tag: traditional catholic

Traditional Catholicism: The Rich Man’s Religion?

September 28th, 2026

I have a message for my fellow poor Catholics, my fellow lower-class, paycheck-to-paycheck-living, financially-strapped American Catholics: you have been robbed.

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This post is not meant to be a jab or critique of any kind. It’s just an observation, an observation of a pattern that I’ve noticed but have never seen discussed anywhere else online or irl, and haven’t been able to find any concrete data about, so, I wanted to bring it up to see if anyone out there has any thoughts or anecdotal evidence to share.

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Not too long ago, I did a bit of research into the history of Catholicism in my hometown. It was so interesting! As it turns out, the first Catholics in my city were poor Irish immigrants, who worked, for the most part, building the railroads here in the early nineteenth century. Poor folks. Simple folks. They didn’t even have a church yet, so a visiting priest celebrated their first Masses in someone’s home.

Over the decades, my city, due in part to its large Irish population, became sort of a hub of Catholicism in our state. Priests sent over from Ireland. A chapel constructed, then a church. Soon there were multiple Catholic schools and convents in the area. Catholicism was the norm. The church downtown, which is still active — and of which I was a member up until 2024 — was built in I think the late eighteen hundreds or maybe the early nineteen hundreds. I looked at black-and-white photos of its interior in its heyday. It was stunning, as a church should be!

After the 1960s-70s, all that began to change — a microcosm of the worldwide Catholic Church. Convents and Catholic schools dwindled and eventually closed. The last of them closed mere months before I moved here, actually, in 2019.

Strangest of all, imo, is what they did to the beautiful church building downtown.

Formerly, there was a separate building next door to the church, which housed the administrative offices, and the bell tower stood between the two. At some point in ’80s, they connected these three structures by constructing a “fellowship hall” in the space between. And in doing so, they not only walled in several of the beautiful historic stained glass windows, so that the sunlight can never pour through again, but also, bizarrely, they flipped the layout of the church. The altar was moved from the east wall to the west, in front of a giant folding wall of sorts which they erected to block off the main front doors. So now, you enter through the door off this new fellowship hall, to the side of what used to be the front of the church. So weird. Nothing against this church or its staff!, I still love the priest and deacons there, and we had a nice time being parishioners; it’s just weird to me what they did to the architecture. Why would you remove the altar from the east wall?

The reversal of the way things ought to be.

All of this seems symbolic of me of the tragic downfall of Catholic Tradition in my city and in the world. The spirit of Vatican II has taken over!

We stopped going to that church a few years ago, in favor of a Traditional parish a longer drive away, where we could attend the TLM and receive the fullness of the Faith, undiluted. I do not regret this at all.

But, not gonna lie, there are some things I appreciated about going to a “normal” church…

For the most part: the large population of “normal” people.

“But what do you mean by ‘normal,’ Mith?” Thanks for asking. What I mean by ‘normal’ is, working-class families of all different colors, educational levels, and tax brackets worshiping in the same space.

This post is not about “diversity” or “inclusion.” Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t like the whole “liberation theology” movement, any more than the next trad, which is one of the reasons I left the modern Church in the first place.

This is strictly me stating my observation that, compared to a modern, mainstream church, the world of Tradition feels… rather like an elite, exclusive country club for the landowning aristocracy.

It’s not that the folks here aren’t nice! That’s just it — they’re very nice! They’re awesome people: very smart, well-spoken, well-read, knowledgeable, eager to help, serious about their faith. They clearly keep a higher standard of living than your average Americans. One of the first things I noticed when entering Tradland: no one here is fat. Everyone looks healthy, fit, and attractive. Everyone here drives a nice car. Everyone here wears really nice clothes. They are, for the most part, highly educated, and highly successful. Most if not all of them Own Acreage.

It’s not just my parish. Look at Traditionalists online. All disgustingly educated, extremely well-read, articulate, intensely focused on their religion. They’re not like normal people. I am not complaining about this nor judging anyone. You all know I love smart people! They’re my favorite people! Imo, it’s evident that Tradition draws many of the smartest people, precisely because a smart person is more likely to be able to look at the crisis and think critically, and discern the voice of reason, and not fall for the propaganda and lies.

And also, look at the locations of most Traditional chapels around the country. I’ve spent a lot of time exploring on Realtor.com — invariably, all the Society chapels are located in areas with high cost of living. You don’t find them out in poor areas, in little forgotten small towns. Now I suppose that this is probably just due to population. With such a relatively small number of priests, it makes sense that chapels would only be able to be built in more populated areas. Hopefully as they grow we’ll see more chapels spring up in all kinds of places, even the boondocks. Because everyone, every child of God, has a right to the true religion, the religion that will guide them to Heaven.

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What’s sad about this is: what about the poors and the normies? What about your average, indebted, working-class, uneducated, paycheck-to-paycheck souls? What about my fellow white trash citizens of small town America? They are equally deserving. Tradition does not belong solely to the landowning aristocracy.

How come nobody pulls up to the TLM in a beaten-up, muddy old truck playing country radio? How come nobody’s dressed in Walmart or bargain store finds? How come no one is fat or has bad teeth? Where are all the retail slaves, and fast-food workers, and janitors? The cigarette smokers and type 2 diabetics? Why is everyone here so much better than your average person?

Here is my theory. People like to do what makes sense to them. If ugliness and drivel is normalized everywhere in all areas of life, in public education and in the media and the world of commerce, then ugliness and drivel are going to be what people accept as normal and good. That will be what makes sense to them.

The average working-class person, the average simple person, will opt for the simplest path. Which probably means whatever church is close to home and most accessible. They will probably choose a church that makes sense to them, in light of their education and surroundings and upbringing. These are not people who went to private, classical Christian academies. These are the public school riffraff. (Please be aware that I myself am public school riffraff, and I fully identify as white trash.) Thus, the modern church, with its fluffy, protestantized, worldly, highly-accessible theology, is going to seem like the right choice, for such folks.

Plus, the modern Church is everywhere. It’s close to home. Gas is expensive. Why would your average poor folks drive 2-3 hours for a church they don’t really understand?

It’s a shame that the Novus Ordo is so accessible. And that people have been made to think that this kind of “accessibility” is so important — that being able to understand, participate, and emotionally relate are of utmost importance, so that they fall into this trap of accessibility.

In this day and age, when ugliness and lies are the norm, Beauty and Truth have become privileges reserved for the elite — for those who have the quality education and leisure time that enable them to intentionally seek it out.

Tradition has tragically been reduced to a remnant, accessible only to those who can afford to find it. To special people, people with above-average intellect, people who read a ton, people who went to good schools, people who mingle with other highly-educated people and discuss highbrow topics.

Again, the fact that it’s all these intensely smart, devout people who gravitate to the TLM is, imo, only further proof that it’s true. — But also, Heaven isn’t an Ivy League university. It shouldn’t be reserved for only the upper classes.

Think of my city. Back in the day, in the 1800s and early 1900s, those first Catholics were poor, working-class city-dwellers. They weren’t the intellectual elites. They were simple. Railroad workers. “Trash,” probably, by the wealthy folks’ standards — you know how most Americans felt about the poor Irish, in those days. They were people you probably wouldn’t want to see in your nice neighborhood. These were the foundation of Catholicism in this part of America.

They may have been low class, but they knew beauty. Because beauty used to be the norm. The TLM used to be everywhere. It was in every Catholic church in every city across the country. It was the inheritance of every Catholic, even those who didn’t “understand” it, even those who weren’t experts, those who didn’t spend their days studying the history and meaning of all the parts of the Mass or reading papal encyclicals or Canon law or things like that. Just simple people who recognized beauty and truth (because people will do that if you let them — I like to think they will, anyway) and obeyed. That’s just what was done, prior to this age of feel-good and TMI and individualism.

These days, it feels like, to be a Traditionalist, you have to be special. I am not special. I’ve been going to my TLM parish for two years, and still suffer from an intense, painful awareness that I am way too trashy to be there. I struggle to feel like I belong amongst all of these superior specimens of humanity, these beautiful, brilliant, warm and lovely, knowledgeable people who all seem to own twenty acres. It feels like a highly-exclusive club, of which I don’t deserve to be a member.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m fully aware that Catholicism is, by nature, exclusive. Non-Catholics shouldn’t even attend the latter portion of the Mass, much less receive Communion. In medieval times there were rumors of unbaptized people catching fire when they so much as passed through the doors of a church and entered into the presence of the Tabernacle. I fully agree. It is an exclusive club.

However — Catholics can be anyone, can’t they? I take issue with the apparent presumption that people below a certain income level are necessarily bad and undeserving.

I want to see more normal people, more broke people, more struggling people (and I mean materially struggling, not just spiritually struggling, because come on, aren’t we all spiritually struggling), at Mass.

“But Mith,” you may be arguing, “it’s a good thing that Trads don’t look like normal people. As Christians, we’re not supposed to blend in with this fallen world. We should look healthier, cleaner, more put-together. Our success arises from self-sacrifice and virtue and hard work — that’s why Trads are so successful. White trash like you, Mith, are characterized by laziness and entitlement. Seduced by the feminization of the culture. We believe in Biblical masculinity and femininity, as well, and in good stewardship of our God-given bodies. It only makes sense, then, that TradCaths are rich and attractive and successful.”

I hear this argument! I hear it loud and clear. This was my thinking, as well, when I first discovered my TLM parish. “Clearly, these people have got it figured out! They know what they’re doing. Yet another sign that this is the correct church.” And, as I’ve said, I still think this. I think the fact that such superior people, with such good work ethics and such strong moral compasses and critical thinking skills, attend the TLM, is just another clue that Traditional Catholicism is true.

However.

I do not believe it’s true that only those who are getting straight As in both Catholicism and life, are welcome at Mass. The simpletons, even the dunces, are just as much members of God’s family. Sometimes I think we Trads are prone to forget that the Church is a hospital for sinners, not a country club for the holiest.

I think we also tend to forget that it’s not for us to judge who’s living in a Godly way. The poor retail slaves on government assistance — they can’t be one of us because they don’t live like us! They are noisy, they are trashy, they are fat. They’re clearly not making good decisions. They clearly aren’t people of God.

That’s not for us to decide. It sounds trite as heck, I know, but you don’t know who’s doing the best they can with what they’ve got. I’m not saying don’t judge people who are obviously, shamelessly sinning; I’m not one of those cringey “only God can judge me” modernists. But still, I think we need to remember that holiness doesn’t look the same in every situation, for every individual. And that our lifestyle isn’t the only morally-acceptable one. You can absolutely be poor, shop at Walmart, work in the food service industry, eat non-organic highly-processed garbage, wear synthetic fabrics, live in a bad neighborbood, and still be a devout Catholic.

In fact, as Trads, blessed with the fullness of the Faith, we have an obligation to be more charitable, more patient, more forgiving of even the “worst” of our Catholic brothers and sisters. I’m talking just as much to myself as to anyone else.

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There are a lot of misconceptions about RadTrads. People say we are snobby and elitist. This right here is why. It’s because, in my experience, many Trads do tend to look down their noses at poor folks.

I love my church, and I’m no “social justice warrior” by any means, nor do I think one needs to be that, to be a Christian — I fully believe that prayer and the Sacraments must come first, and that charity and a real concern for the poor will naturally arise out of those — however, it seems like Trads never even talk about the poor and homeless. It’s no wonder we Trads get a bad reputation.

I’m sure this is because of the pendulum effect. The Traditional Church and its faithful are the pendulum swinging hard in the opposite direction of the modernists. The modernists never shut up about liberation theology and giving money to the poor all the time, as if that’s all there is to Catholicism, as if the Church is just a social justice organization and the more you volunteer, the better you are. So, necessarily, the Trads need to talk about the things we’re not hearing from the modernists. They’re trying to fill an urgent need. I get that.

And in the process, we seem to have forgotten about the poor.

I see this as, again, a side-effect of the crisis and Vatican II. I like to think that one day, when the Church heals and Tradition is the norm again, we’ll be able to talk about the poor again, and welcome them among us, without fear of looking like modernists who don’t live the right lifestyle.

Also, as I said, this post is not about diversity, but I do think it’s a shame that we Trads are not beating the allegations of being overwhelmingly white. The population of a parish should reflect the population of the area surrounding it. I live in an area where a relatively high percentage of the population is non-white. Therefore, it follows that there ought to be way more non-white people at our church. Catholicism is not a white person’s religion; it is the universal religion. Unfortunately, I think this is again an economic status issue, rather than a race issue, at heart.

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My white trash brethren!, poors of all colors!, my fellow poors, cashiers, Walmart shoppers, and retail slaves!, come one, come all, come to the TLM! I am summoning you. God is calling you. There is a place for you here. This is your church too. Beauty belongs to you too. And it is free.

This is the gist of this post: Vatican II and the modernization of the Church have robbed us — the ordinary, everyday, low-class riffraff Catholics — of beauty and of truth. Robbed us basics and normies of access to the True Mass. Which is of course our access to Heaven. My fellow poors: you’ve been robbed. A terrible crime has been committed against your soul. Come and reclaim your birthright, as Catholics. Come and retrieve what’s been stolen from you!

I don’t think it needs to be stated that I am no expert. I am no brainiac doctor, no Taylor Marshall nor Peter Kwasniewski. But guess what. You don’t need to be, to be a Trad. Look at me. I ain’t know nothin’. I’m just a simple little layperson with a WordPress blog, a great number of bills, and an even greater number of habitual sins and imperfections. I just stumbled upon Tradition because I had the good fortune of meeting a couple of exceptional Trads who were kind to me, a poor dumb loser, and showed me the light. As mentioned, I still really struggle to feel like I fit in, at my church — which is perhaps a big part of why I am begging my fellow poors to come and join me. Catholicism is for everyone.

Sometimes when I feel really bad, feel really embarrassed for being my white trash self at this beautiful place full of visibly holy, flourishing, beautiful people, I call to mind the first Catholics in my city: the ones who struggled. The poor hungry Irish immigrants, the railroad workers, the simple folks. I call to mind the family of Saint Bernadette. The family of St. Pius X himself — lest we forget!

I hope this silly little post reaches someone who needs it, one day. Probably a far-fetched hope, considering the size of my readership, but I can hope nonetheless.
Excommunicated?

July 7th, 2026

The usual disclaimer: I’m not an expert. I’m not like Kennedy Hall or Dr. Kwasniewski or Taylor Marshall or any of those super-smart TradCath commentators. I’m just some little random mom who comes to WordPress to process my thoughts & feewings and to seek out companionship & feedback. Please don’t take any of this seriously. It’s just my scattered little thoughts and impressions, as a lay follower of the SSPX.

I know I said a few days ago, before the consecrations, that I wasn’t too worried about the impending excommunication, because I was confident that I was on the right side no matter what. And that was true.

Now that it’s happened, though, I admit to being kind of troubled about it. Not troubled enough to stop supporting the SSPX or to stop going to their Masses – but because it’s an objectively very troubling thing to be told by the Pope that you are excommunicated. That is never a negligible thing, imo, no matter what.

And I’m troubled by all the vitriol and accusations and assumptions and threats from the modernist side. It’s troubling to see all this infighting within Catholicism. It’s ugly and shallow and it’s a really bad look for us. – “But this isn’t infighting,” you might be saying, “because the SSPX isn’t Catholic” – but how are they less Catholic than any of the bishops and parishes who’ve strayed so far from Catholic teaching without being penalized? “Catholic teaching = doing absolutely whatever the Pope says, no matter what,” you might be saying – but that’s not true. The Pope exists to uphold the faith, not vice versa. We worship Christ, not the Pope. How did we lose sight of that?

It’s just very sad.

I’m trying to figure out whether I, personally, am excommunicated or not. Rome said that all the lay faithful who “formally adhere to the doctrinal positions” of the SSPX are automatically excommunicated along with its Bishops. – but, which one of the Society’s “doctrinal positions” am I supposed to disagree with? They published that profession of faith shortly before all this, explicity stating all of their doctrinal positions for all the world to see, and it was literally just… the Catholic faith?! I’m confused. So by professing the Catholic faith we’re schismatic?

I guess the part we’re not supposed to agree with is that the modern Church is heading in the wrong direction — which is not stated as a tenet of doctrine in their document, but it’s obviously implied, it’s painfully clear from reading this actual Catholic doctrine! It’s so clear that it’s the modern Church that’s becoming less and less Catholic. From my little uneducated lay POV, I really feel like this misunderstanding about schism stems from a misunderstanding about what the Catholic faith is. Like I said, we’re not Pope worshippers, contrary to what Protestants think of us. Apparently this is yet another way in which a great many modern Catholics think like Protestants. Just another symptom.

Some article I read clarified that not all lay faithful are in schism, and that it’s a case-by-case basis. Am I among those in schism? I admit, I hope not – I don’t think I have a schismatic attitude. I love the Pope and my diocesan Bishop and believe in their legitimate authority and pray for them all the time. I keep apprised of what’s going on in my diocese. I mingle with NO Catholics (at least, I have been doing so, up until now – now, I’m kind of afraid to, given the atmosphere). I wish we could all just get along – I don’t see why Rome can’t just let the SSPX in, formally. There are so many different flavors of Catholicism within the Church, even the Melkites, Maronites, et cetera, who look very different from your average Roman Catholic and don’t even share many of the same rituals; but it’s the Society who has to be excluded? Why?

– I feel like it’s just that Rome doesn’t want any of its members to speak up about what’s wrong with the modern Church. Which feels, imo, not very “synodal” of them. A little hypocritical, I daresay.

It’s really sad. Reading the commentary online, it’s obvious to me that it’s the modernists who are being hateful and divisive. The Society and its followers are expressing only sadness and sorrow and a humble resolve to keep the Faith – meanwhile, all the NOrmies are name-calling and saying we’re all going straight to hell and making wild assumptions about the mindset of individuals within the Society. Just very poor taste. I’ve even seen people making fun of the way our new Bishops look (as if it’s not the modern Church that embraces ugliness). Just petty, sad, immature stuff.

And it’s really sad to me that the Society tried to reach out to Pope Leo for like a year prior to these consecrations, begging him to meet and talk, and they kept getting ignored. Until literally a day or two before the consecrations, when everyone was already on site and getting set up – then he sends a letter saying “no, wait, let’s talk!” – isn’t that just blatantly recreating exactly what happened to Archbishop Lefebvre prior to his consecrations?! He begged Rome repeatedly for permission and they kept ghosting him, and he was literally worried that he wasn’t going to live long enough to get it done, which was why he made the call. To me it seems obvious that the Society has always acted out of a sincere desire to uphold the Catholic faith in a state of emergency, and Rome has been rather mean to them.

So yes, I do believe, earnestly, that I’m on the right side of this argument. Given the way that the Society’s been excommunicated in the past, then un-excommunicated, then given faculties, now excommunicated again – to me, that just shows that it’s Modern Rome who’s being inconsistent with their position, not the SSPX. You can belong to something and disagree with some things about it. You can believe in someone’s authority and still take issue with how they exercise it. Who among you readers has never once disagreed with a single one of your parents’ decisions? But does that mean you’re not a member of their family?

It’s sad. I’m just trying to do the right thing for my family. I want to bring my kids where they will be taught the whole, real Catholic faith, and where they will experience real beauty and reverence, as a remedy to all the evils that surround us in the secular world. That’s what religion is supposed to be. I’ve literally seen Catholics in Facebook comment battles arguing that “the Church needs to modernize to keep up with the times” and “our interpretation of God’s Word must be perpetually changing and fluid” and stuff like that – good grief! Are we for real?! It’s just really sad.

As you all know, I’ve been Catholic for almost twelve years, the last two of those with the SSPX. I don’t think the world of the Society is perfect by any means, and have certain issues with certain apsects of the lay subculture – but, the real Catholic faith is more important than any of that. (One upside to all this, for me, is it’s renewed my commitment to the SSPX way, when for a minute there I was starting to waffle due to the social pressure.) It’s been very difficult for me, personally, to figure out how to go about all of this. I have four kids and a husband, and in my family I’m the spiritual decision-maker, the one who teaches the kids the faith and takes us to Mass and all that. And I’m no expert – I’m just some girl who converted from atheism! It’s been really hard, honestly, probably one of the most difficult decisions of my life if not the most difficult, to determine whether to stick with the modernists or to go the way of the RadTrads. I made my choice from a place of sincerity and prayer – at least, I hope I did. Only God really knows my soul, doesn’t He, and I guess it’s possible that I’m operating from some secret arrogance or pride that even I can’t see – but, to the best of my knowledge, that’s not the case, and all I can do is keep praying that He will help me to know myself and know how to follow Him.

As of right now, I still think the SSPX is in the right. I still sincerely believe that they will, one day, be vinicated, and that the Archbishop will be canonized and recognized as a hero who singlehandedly saved Catholic Tradition. Hopefully within my children’s lifetime.

So yes, I’m confident that I’m on the right side, but I’m still sad and troubled about it all. I know some lay faithful out there just totally don’t even care – “Rome isn’t even Catholic anymore,” they say, “so anything they say is meaningless” – I don’t agree with that. It does matter what Rome says, even though it’s also true that there are problems with modern Rome. I wish people could be more balanced about all this. I wish people could have some compassion. The way the modernists get so heated about the traditionalists – to me, it shows very plainly that they know something is wrong with the way they’re doing things – otherwise, why would they get so affronted? I think they know, in their heart, that something is wrong, but they’re too afraid to do something about it for fear of being labelled “schismatic,” which, if I’m being really cynical and conspiracy-theoristy, might be exactly what Modern Rome wants – to use fear to suppress Tradition. I hope that’s not true but that’s kinda how it looks. It just feels to me like a big ugly family feud.

Well, this has all been a bit rambly and pointless and venty, but I’m going to put it out there anyway because, as usual, it’s my silly little personal blog and I can post what I want on it. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, but know that any hateful and bigoted comments will be deleted.
On the eve of “excommunication”

June 30th, 2026

I’m wondering: what is belief?

I write this here post not as any kind of expert — just as one little random layperson who doesn’t even worry much about Church politics or goings-on, and barely even reads the news. When it comes to matters of faith, my aim is to take care of my family, and so that’s where I keep my focus. I just attend Mass, at an SSPX chapel btw, and say my prayers and mind my own business.

Before you holler “schismatic!”, hear me out.

I’ve only been going to the SSPX since 2024. Those of you who know me will remember how I agonized for months, reading and studying and earnestly praying and waffling repeatedly back and forth, losing tons of sleep and basically losing my mind, over whether or not to switch from my friendly neighborhood NO to the nearest SSPX.

I always, on some level, knew that the SSPX was the right way to go. But all this complicated business about “obedience to Rome” and “irregular canonical state” and all that, had me over-intellectualizing the whole matter. I won’t go into all the issues here, or the actual reasons why the SSPX is right, although I kind of touched upon them, in my own humble terms, in a previous post.

Suffice it to say that at last I came to see that it’s actually very simple — the SSPX position is so commonsense, it was (and remains) truly painful to see how so many people seem to deliberately cover their eyes and go “la la la” real loud in order to not acknowledge what’s going on — and all my overthinking had been a laughable waste of time. I’m confident in what I believe now.

Which brings me to the point of this post: what even is belief? I know what I believe, which is why I’m not worried about the impending “excommunication.” I am confident that my family and I are on the right side.

I know what I believe — but what exactly is this action of believing, and how do we do it, and how do we know we’re doing it. My own answer to this question feels murky to me, so perhaps writing this little post will help me clarify it for myself.

I became Catholic in 2014, for reasons that were entirely intellectual. It was evident that I needed a religion; Catholicism was a logically watertight system, and seemed superior to all of the others for numerous reasons, so I went with that.

At first I was worried that I didn’t actually “believe” all the things the Church taught. This felt like an obstacle to conversion. But then I learned that “belief” is not just some feeling you have inside. It’s a choice. I could choose to believe. As long as I was willing and did my best to walk the walk, that was enough. That was groundbreaking!

Well for ten years I tried to walk the walk, but something about church never clicked for me. I felt uninspired — something about the NO world felt, in some hard-to-articulate way, shallow and fakey. Too normal. Too worldly. In that environment, I actually sometimes felt embarrassed for trying to take Catholicism seriously, like I had the strong sense that a priest would laugh and roll his eyes at me if I asked him a question about sin or doctrine, or asked him to make time to hear confession; like my fellow parishioners would laugh at me for wanting to wear a veil or kneel for Communion. I felt malnourished.

Until I found the SSPX.

On some level, I knew immediately that they were right about things. That this was real Catholicism. This was serious. These priests, I trusted their advice, I trusted them with the welfare of my eternal soul. I felt inspired! I felt spiritually fed. — But of course, I couldn’t trust that feeling, could I? Because belief is not just a feeling, I knew that! Belief is a behavior. It’s a choice.

So, I had to figure out what to choose.

Thus began the over-intellectualizing, the agonizing. For a while there, I even considered Orthodoxy, and the path before me forked off in not two but three directions. Each side, I found, had many intelligent people arguing in its favor. Each side could be described as “a logically watertight system.” So how on earth was I to decide?!

What it came down to, even before I was able to admit that that’s what it was, was: intuition. Just some feeling inside. Even though Orthodoxy seemed sound, it just wasn’t right for me, a white American; the arguments could go on forever (and indeed have been going on for a thousand years now), but the arguments in favor of Catholicism were, I decided, good enough for me. When it came to choosing between the NO and the SSPX, that took a bit more time. And what ended up swaying me, even before I’d made sense of the logical “why”, was: intuition.

And no, it’s not just about the “vibes.” I know a lot of modernists like to accuse RadTrads of doing what we do just for the vibes, because we like the aesthetic and enjoy LARPing the 1950s (actually, these accusers are even further off than they realize: if anything, it’s the 1850s these Trads are LARPing, lol). I can’t speak for everyone, but for me personally, I don’t care that much about historical reenactment. I’m no crunchy mom; I like modern medicine, Tylenol, rap and hip-hop, vaccines, TV, grocery shopping, alt fashion, tofu, the internet, and all kinds of modern conveniences. I live decidedly in the present day. But what the SSPX offers — not just their “aesthetic,” but the actual substance of Tradition that underlies and informs that — is timeless.

“You’re just boasting about how stupid you are,” you may be arguing: “you couldn’t understand the texts, so you lazily went with the place that ‘felt’ cooler, and now you’re romanticizing your own stupidity, calling it ‘intuition.’” You know, I’d be lying if I said this never worried me! I’m not that brainy; I simply do not care to pore over a jillion Vatican documents and dry old encyclicals and big thick tomes of nonfiction. Maybe if I forced myself to do all that…

But here’s the thing: I don’t believe that God requires that of us. I don’t believe He is hiding the truth behind some kind of intellectual paywall. He’s not a 400-level professor who’s going to assign a bunch of heavy reading and only award Heaven to A+ students who read the most books. Simple folks like me can find the truth too, even with the aid of intuition.

Which is obviously not to say that intellect is useless! The right Church does need to be logically watertight. They do need to teach things that are edifying and smart and challenging, and for that reason, priests do need to be disgustingly educated. Lay folks, however, do not. Lay folks like me, see, our job is to use our God-given faculties (including both reason and intuition) to know where to go to get our formation, and to be the best little lay folks we can.

Why did I need to overcomplicate things? I knew already, I feel it in my body when I’m in church: the SSPX teaches what I believe. It’s been a journey to get here. It’s taken me all these years to accept that belief actually maybe is, in part anyway, just some feeling that you have inside.

I think it’s got to be both, actually; for me, it can’t be one without the other. I can’t assent with my brain unless I feel it in my body too, and don’t get the feeling in my body unless my brain agrees with what’s being said. But the feeling in your body — it does matter, after all, which was news to me, a very cerebral person by nature.

So maybe belief is like a “whole person” experience, more real and tangible than I formerly thought.

All I know is, from both study and empirical/lived evidence, I believe the SSPX is right. It feels so good to be able to say, with confidence, that the place where I go to church really represents what I believe (even if I don’t always feel like I fit in well with the lay Trad community, socially speaking, as my readers very well know). It’s not just a placeholder or a franchise of some big organization. It’s real.

Which is why I’m not bothered by the impending “excommunication.” It’s sad, sure — devastating even — this is not how I hoped things would go, and I’m sad that the Church is splintering, and selfishly sad that I had to live during the crisis.

However, I’m not disturbed. I’m not rethinking my decision from a couple years ago.

Which is actually significant, because normally I’m extremely thin-skinned and highly susceptible to peer pressure; normally, hearing a bunch of people talk shit about something I agree with, would bother me deeply, or possibly even start to make me disagree with that thing. But not this. I see so much anti-SSPX noise online and it just makes me feel… kinda sad for the people who believe all that. And grateful to have found a safe haven where I can rest and tune out the noise. There’s so much peace to be found when you finally realize what you really believe, and can have confidence in that!

But so this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. Is all of this to say that there is a subjective element to the truth? That it’s not 100% objective? — I don’t think so, and don’t want to be accidentally heretical or anything here, and am certainly not equipped to talk about this anyway; but it just makes you wonder. I guess “believe” is different from “know” for that reason; it’s a different action, and probably does involve more subjectivity, or something.

Anyway, I’m praying tonight for the new bishops and for the healing of the Church. I hope you are too.
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Is it ok to enjoy love stories?

May 12th, 2026

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?
Am I the only TradCath on earth who’s not antivaxx?

April 25th, 2026

I have already addressed this issue in a previous post, but recent events have brought it back to the forefront of my mind, so, here we go again I guess.

It disappoints me that virtually all of my fellow Traditionalist Catholics here in the USA are anti-vaxx.

As you know if you read my other post, I’m not enthusiastically pro-vaccine. I’m not one of those people who proudly posted a selfie with a Covid vax bandaid and some virtue-signally caption about the importance of getting vaccinated. I’m skeptical. I’d never get my kids the Covid shot.

I do get my kids their routine vaccines – but I dread doing so. I hate it. Because I know there is a risk of harm every time.

But I still do it, because the risk of harm is very slight, and the protection against serious disease is basically guaranteed. And very valuable.

“But all the mysterious shit and heavy metals that they put in your body…” so they say, but I simply don’t see enough evidence that the things they put in vaccines are so harmful. Pretty much every one of my friends and family, and everyone I ever knew, growing up in the pre-internet, pre-antivaxx era, is fully vaccinated, with no adverse effects.

Again: I don’t love doing it, but the protection from serious illness is worth it to me.

“But they’re made from aborted fetal cells” — I’ve looked into this one, and yes, it’s unfortunately true, and I wish they’d find a new way to make these vaccines.

However, two things: (1): my duty to protect my children and my community from serious illness is more pressing, ethically, than my obligation to not purchase unethically-sourced goods, and (2): in the case of the origins of these shots, the cooperation with evil is very removed, very distant – many degrees of separation between the aborted child and the vaccine that my child receives, especially if (3): no other vaccine is offered against a certain illness. Which reduces or even negates my culpability.

Furthermore, nothing in Catholic doctrine or papal writings is against vaccinations. Catholicism is very pro-preventative medicine. Catholic hospitals throughout the decades have offered vaccines.

The antivaxx movement is a trend. A trend that’s arisen because of the internet. (Ironic, considering that the same people who are antivaxx are the ones who hate the internet and say we shouldn’t use it.) That’s all it is. It’s American trads trying too hard to retaliate against the secular mainstream culture.

And yes, the secular mainstream culture is bad, and the government is not trustworthy. However, it is also true that modern medicine does some good things, and vaccines provide valuable protection against disease.

With all due respect, I think that American trads are trying so hard to be “counter-cultural” that they’re saying “no” to certain harmless and even beneficial things as well. Throwing the baby out with the bathwater, if you will. Swinging the pendulum too hard in the opposite direction.

And this is why this country is seeing new cases of things like measles and polio. It’s because of the antivaxxers.

As a trad who vaccinates, I feel really alone and frustrated. I feel alienated from my peers, and like they’ll think I’m a traitor and/or an idiot if they get to know me too well.

I’ve been going to my TLM parish for almost two years now. This was my first introduction to the Latin Mass. I’ll admit, in the beginning I was starstruck. As you know if you’ve read my previous posts on the topic, I thought I’d found something of a Catholic Mecca. I cherished a secret little belief that the SSPX was rather perfect, that they could do no wrong. “These people,” I thought to myself, “have got it figured out!”

But I see now that, like any human institution, it has its flaws. And one of those, in my humble opinion, is that its faithful tend to take the counterculture thing to an unhealthy extreme. People accuse SSPX trads of being “a cult,” and that is entirely untrue and uncharitable. But I can almost kinda see how they get that reputation now, given how they seem to live by these niche cultural standards – standards which are optional, not at all mandatory, for Catholics.

Which I can understand. Like I said, the culture is bad, and we can’t trust the world nor the government. I’m not saying my fellow trads are stupid. Not at all! They’re very smart. I’ve actually observed that trads tend to be more well-read, more high-achieving, and more knowledgeable than most “normie” Catholics. I have a ton of respect for my fellow trads, and am honored to be in their company! But, it also seems to me that they’ve largely fallen victim to a misguided philosophy. That some untruth has perhaps snuck in with the truth that they’ve found; ridden into their minds like a parasite on the back of the truth.

It’s disappointing to see. However, it’s also kind of liberating.

Because for a while now, I’ve been laboring under this delusion that all these lay trads, my fellow parishioners, had it all figured out. That I just had to copy them, to blend in with their lifestyle and subculture, in order to be a good person. I idolized them, and that’s on me.

But then this vaccine issue got rubbed in my face again. And now I see, now I realize, that the subculture is not perfect. It’s just a subculture, and it has its flaws. I don’t need to live just like them in order to be a good Catholic.

Which takes the pressure off. I don’t need to live like the Amish! I don’t need to live on a farm! I don’t need to raise chickens or make sourdough! Those things are lovely, but not required! I don’t need to even want to do those things!

Wow! I can breathe. A great weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Being able to see the subculture for what it is, is so freeing. But also, like I said, disappointing. As you all know, I’ve never fit in anywhere; I’ve always longed for a place to belong, to find My People. It would be nice if the people who shared my religious beliefs were not so strict about their cultural norms and preferences as to feel like an exclusive club.

I wish I could find some other trad Christians who aren’t antivaxx. If you fit that description, please feel free to leave a comment – it would bring me great peace of mind to know that you exist.
Watching “Adolescence” as a Catholic Mom

September 18th, 2025

Needless to say, this post contains spoilers for the show Adolescence.

A month or so ago, my husband and I watched Adolescence, which as you probably know is a highly critically-acclaimed British limited series, released earlier this year, available on Netflix. Which, btw, I just saw that that young actor just became the youngest boy ever to win an Emmy; well deserved, he acted the heck out of that role, damn. And I guess it was nominated for a ton of other Emmys as well, so I needn’t waste any time talking about what a good show it is. Personally I love the limited series format, and I wish that more shows would limit themselves to just one season; all too often, the creators keep on dragging things along long after the story’s died and rotted, just because there’s money to be had, and it’s disgusting.

But so anyway, as you know if you read this blog, I am a really stupid person and not any kind of critic or anything, so I can’t contribute anything of value to the existing discussions of this show. I don’t pay any attention to the whole “redpill” thing or to whoever Andrew Tate is, so I can’t comment on any of that, although it did seem painfully obvious to me that whoever wrote this show has like intense personal beef with this Andrew Tate. I haven’t been inside of a high school in seventeen years (thanks be to God), so I can’t comment much on the state of public education, either, although from what I’ve heard this show depicted it very accurately, which, yikes.

No, as is the case on this entire blog, I have no expertise, so the only thing I can really put out there is my personal reaction, in case anyone out there, like me, just wants to talk about it. And for me, the big takeaway, the thing that I was left thinking about for days and weeks afterwards, was: do we have any control, then, over who we are, and how our kids turn out?

As a mom of little kids, I worry about this a lot. Maybe it’s a “millennial mom” thing, but it gives me a lot of anxiety, trying not to mess up my kids. I always overthink about every single thing I say to them, and worry that I’m psychologically damaging them no matter what I do. At the end of the day: “I was too mean and strict, they’re going to be traumatized and go no-contact with me as soon as they’re grown up, and rightfully so!” Or: “I was too lenient, I’m spoiling them, what would my priest say?!, they’re not going to have any sense of respect or discipline, I am one of ‘those’ modern parents, I am part of what’s wrong with society!” It seems that no matter what I say, I always look back on it at the end of the day and think that I should have said the opposite. No matter what I do, I am damaging them somehow, and setting them up for a future full of misery and expensive psychotherapy. But, how much control do I actually have over my kids’ outcome?

In the last episode of Adolescence, it seemed like the show was simultaneously blaming Jamie’s parents, and excusing them from culpability for his actions. Yes, it was their fault, because Dad had unresolved anger issues and was at work all the time, and Mom didn’t pay attention to the warning signs, like the way that Jamie was just in his room on the computer all the time. But, also, Dad couldn’t really help it, could he, because his own dad was violent with him, and Jamie’s dad was just doing the best he could, trying to contain his rage and not take it out on his kids (but instead on things like sheds and vans). And I guess the idea was that Mom wasn’t really at fault because she lives in a world where teenagers sitting on their computers all day is normalized. Both parents were, in their ways, just products of their own upbringing and environment.

Aren’t we all? How much control do I even have over myself and my own choices? I’m not going to talk about whether or not free will exists. That question is too mind-bendy for me. As a Catholic, I know that it is somehow both true that free will exists and that God has the ultimate power as well as foreknowledge of how everything will end up – that I simultaneously have control over my actions and have no control whatsoever, which is confusing, but it makes sense as long as you don’t think about it too hard, because it certainly appears true that we have free will, and it feels weird to think otherwise. As you can tell I’m far from equipped to talk about such lofty subjects as free will.

So I guess the question here is, can anyone ever not be just a product of their own upbringing and environment? Can anyone ever not doom their children to be just products of their upbringing and environment? Is it really all just one big hopeless vicious cycle of disorder and trauma?

I admittedly stress about this a lot, and that stress definitely swelled up again, for a while, after watching Adolescence. But fortunately for me, I am, as I already mentioned, Catholic, and in the Catholic Church, we are shown the way to freedom – to breaking that hopeless cycle.

Sure, as long as you’re just being yourself, living according to your own human limitations, seeking no more than as much human satisfaction as you can get, you’re going to be stuck in the cycle. You’re probably doomed to misery. I do not know this firsthand, as I am definitely not a saint, but I know from reading the lives of the saints, that the only way to escape that cycle – to breach the surface of these whirling murky waters of human pain and struggle, and finally take a breath of air – is to become a saint. I’m pretty sure that’s the only way to be actually free. A saint is the only kind of person who’s entirely free from the world and all its emotional/psychic/material anguish. A saint lives entirely in the truth.

Hm, so, does that mean that, if I’m not a literal saint, I’m doomed to be a shitty parent, and my kids are doomed to generational trauma?

Well, first of all, I think there’s a common misconception about saints that they never do a single thing wrong. That’s not what a saint is. The saints are not the same as Christ or the Blessed Mother. On earth, they weren’t perfect. They sometimes get things wrong. But the thing that made them saints was that they loved God very much and were entirely devoted to doing His will, not their own. They are already living in eternity; they have their priorities straight. But they’re still people, i.e. imperfect. So, I don’t think it’s necessarily true that one must never ever make a single mistake in order to be a good parent, to raise mentally-healthy kids.

What, then, is the secret? – No, really, can somebody tell me? Lol. I try to do my best, but my oldest is still only five, so despite having four kids, I’m still quite new at this.

I figure probably one of the most important things one can do, when it comes to raising kids who are free from the vicious cycle that is the human condition – i.e., kids who have the best chance at true happiness – is to pass on the Faith to them. That is the most important thing that we can give them. But of course, we should also practice what we preach. It’s not going to help our kids much if we teach certain habits and virtues but behave completely differently in our own everyday lives. That will just lead to confusion and fallen-away souls. The responsibility of being a Catholic parent is incredibly daunting. Which is why stories like Adolescence make me so anxious. Am I doing enough to save my kids? Am I doing enough, am I doing enough, am I doing enough?? If you’re a mom, even a secular mom, you get it!

I’m never doing enough, it seems – but, at least my children will know their Blessed Mother, who is perfect, and who will never fail them like I inevitably will to some degree.

It’s always interesting to me when secular stories like this accidentally profess the truth of God and His infinite love. Yes, every person is indeed doomed to a cycle of hopelessness and ruin, evil and pain, if they try to live without God. I guess all good art tells us something about God, really, and that’s why it is good.
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

I don’t have many traits that I’m proud of, but, I like to think that one of my best ones 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

Please keep in mind that I’m not an expert of any kind! I’m literally just some random layperson who overthinks everything!

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, you’re at risk, 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!