St. Zita's Day

Sometimes I'm glad I didn't know the orthodox way of doing things as a Catholic before I do them. I chose my patron saint even before my conversion, or maybe she chose me. I discovered her story in a rather awful book I picked up at random from the local library--The Birthday Book of Saints. My personal ideal of the ultimate Christian at that time was someone who could arrive at heaven and be thrilled to discover their eternal vocation was scrubbing toilets. St. Zita seemed to be that kind of person, and I was drawn to finding out more about her.
Her family were all very holy people but poor, so they sent Zita to work for a wealthy family around the age of 12. It was a volatile household and the older servants picked on her. St. Zita used all of these experiences to help her grow in holiness. She loved to attend mass and went every day. There are numerous miracle stories about her that usually involve her giving away something of value to the poor and then being rescued from her master's wrath by divine intervention. By the time of her death she was running the household and the family had been deeply converted by her example. Her body is on display in the Cathedral at Lucca, Italy. She is an incorruptible, meaning her body has not decayed despite the 737 years since her death.

Cathedral

strung like paper dolls
round the sacred space
tear apart the hands
tape me into Grace

A Fond Farewell

I was recently informed of Harriet the Cow's death. I never had the privilege of meeting Harriet, but all the reports I heard of her pointed to a cow of great spirit. She had, prior to her death, been a strong, healthy cow who was both pregnant and a great producer. She had a quirky independence that occasionally got her into trouble, but don't we all? Her premature death was due to ingesting some metal. It is a fairly common malady, but still a bitter end to a bright life. She will be missed.
Let's hope it's not a sign of Harriet the Novel's fate.

Something

It's amazing how many brain cells my Medieval Women class takes up. All that left over energy that shapes itself into short little informative, humorous, or spiritual bits is no longer left over. I need every resource. I think it would be easier if I didn't find the subject so interesting myself. We started with the Empress Theodora moved on to Hildegaard of Bingen and I'm preparing a lecture of Eleanor of Aquitane.
Theodora provided us with a nice look at the transition from the ancient world to the medieval. Hildegaard is still blowing my mind. Her life is full of such energy, yet she didn't come into her own until around 40--an old lady in medieval times. Studying the abbess made me confront just how different medieval religion is from modern, though some of the theology--particularly as it relates to the end of the world--was very familiar. I could not, under any circumstances have tithed a child to the church at the age of 8, especially to the living death of an anchorite. Eleanor's life, as the wife of two rival kings, both of whom she was too closely related to for a proper marriage. Her involvement in all that went on and the lengths that were gone to to keep her out of the loop are all fascinating--though the general debauchery mixed with extreme religious practices is disconcerting.
I have three more ladies to study--Joan of Arc, Theresa of Avila, and Christine de Pizan. I am hoping the Joan will help us understand the life of a peasant. Theresa will teach us how even in the darkest time a woman's wisdom can shine through. Christine as the first professional female writer will hopefully illumine the challenges women faced when trying to support themselves. Each step along the road has taught me much more than I expected it to. I hope my students feel the same way at the end of the road.

Back to School

We've decided to send at least one of our children back to school. We think she needs to get settled into the routines and systems of education before she goes off to college. I've also developed doubts about my ability to help her with her science requirements. Science is too much fun not to get the whole experience. The other side of the coin is that I've accomplished most everything I hoped to already. She's read Canterbury Tales, The Song of Roland, Augustine, Acquinas, Herodutus, etc. She's begun to understand a good bit of what she reads and she's doing voluntary research on Welsh mythology. She's working on two different novels and she writes a good essay. She knows how to educate herself and that's the main thing.
Next year my burden will be a bit lighter, and I'm looking forward to improving my own education. Teaching Medieval Women at Co-op has also reminded me of how accessible education is these days. I laid out a course and put an order in to Amazon and voila I'm in business. When my burden is light enough that I can put significant work in on my own education I think I will work on Rene Girard. Some of his hypothesis seem scientifically testable, I'm wondering if I could manage to do something like that. In any case the other literary theories become relevant and interesting as they relate to Girard. It isn't a bad way to master the subject.

Where Loyalty Lies

I pledge allegiance to Kansas
and to the state for which it stands
One reality
under God
indivisible
with truth and mercy
for all

I gave up my Mass for Lent.

Saturday's I wake up to the happy knowledge that I'll be going to Mass. It's the highlight of my week. I try to get there an hour early so that I can settle in and devote some serious time to prayer. Reconciliation is offered at that time too, so I can take care of any sin I might be dragging around. Father Len doesn't turn the lights on until 15 minutes before Mass, so the room is subdued and tranquil. The beautiful mosaic behind the altar is a feast for the soul.
Then of course there's the Mass itself. I still find such pleasure in its orderly progress through everything the Bible asks us to do. I like all the standing and kneeling. I love singing the Gospel to its place on the lectern. The highlight though is certainly the Eucharist. I never understood what a difference Eucharist makes. I run off to Barnes and Noble to write with its cherished grace casting a strong glow over me as I work. Nothing replaces it.
So what am I doing, giving up my Mass for Lent? I took my family with me. Taking the family to Mass is an entirely different experience. We still get there a little early, but instead of a quiet reverie, I'm busy reminding kids of manners as they talk to everyone around us. Gradually I lose family members to the cry room. Since it's my church, Kurt starts with the baby and then I can measure our progress by how far up the age ladder we travel. Yesterday, there were three of them sitting with Daddy watching the big screen. Instead of serenity and meditation there is embarrassment and struggle. Instead of off-loading sin, I'm trying to make it to host reasonably pure in the middle of all that mess. Forget deep cleaning, I'll take a surface dusting for the most immediate infractions. Instead of being comfortable I'm a little miserable.
I gave up the Mass as me-time. I took a step closer to the Mass as our time. Saturday isn't as easy as Mass on Sunday, and Mass is far more difficult than the Protestant service. But yesterday as I looked around and saw growth in behavior and reverence I felt I'd made a worthy sacrifice. It was a good thing to give up for Lent.