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If you are looking for spiritual reading during Lent...

...may I suggest you try Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales?

I blogged about it at great length a couple of years ago, and I still think it is wonderful -- astonishingly modern, given when it was written. I particularly recommend the "Everyman's Library" edition that is translated by Father Michael Day. You should look for a translation with a contemporary and conversational tone, because the advice is contemporary and conversational -- avoid a translation that sounds stilted and archaic. If you cannot wait, you can find it online, but believe me, it is worth it to get a contemporary and friendly-sounding translation. St. Francis really deserves it -- he needs to sound as contemporary to us as he would have sounded to the people he spoke with in person.

I recommend, too, either reading the whole thing swiftly (without following any of the advice) to get an overview of the "program" before turning back to digest it more slowly; or else, following the chapters somewhat out of order. There is a clear structure to the book, but a sort of rearrangement of the chapters rings better to the modern ear that is used to self-help books.

Here's my suggestion:

• First, see my post on the overall structure of the book.
• Then, if you like, bookmark my chapter by chapter blog series on it.
• Read part 1, chapters 1 through 3. (One short chapter a day is fine if you want to spread it out.)
• You can skip part 1, chapter 4, unless you are considering getting a spiritual director.
• Read part 1, chapters 5-7. These are more introductory remarks.
• Stop before going on to part 1, chapter 8. Beginning there, you will prepare for a novena of sorts -- nine days, ten meditations. Before reading and especially before trying to follow the advice, I recommend turning ahead to part 2 and going carefully through chapters 1 through 8 in that chapter, taking notes and marking pages. Part 2, chapters 1-8, is a primer on how to pray and meditate, and it will be extremely useful to have read it before beginning the program of prayer that is described in the rest of part 1.
• Now you're going to embark on what I call "St. Francis's Three-Step Program For Getting Rid of Mortal Sin And Attachment To It."
• Step one is to attain perfect contrition. Do this by reading part 1, chapter 8, and then use the ten meditations that follow as a nine-day novena: one meditation per day on the first eight days, and then on the ninth day do the ninth and tenth meditations. While you are doing this, refer to the chapters you have already from part 2 (that is, chapters 1-8 of part 2) if you need to be reminded of St. Francis's method of prayer and meditation.
• Step two is to prepare for, and make, a good confession: a general confession, if possible. (You might want to make an appointment if you think it will be a quite thorough general confession). Prepare for the confession a couple of days ahead with these readings: Part 1, chapter 19; then part 2, chapter 19; then part 1, chapters 20 and 21. (Again, if you are making a thorough general confession, it may be wise to write out the results of your examination of conscience so you can refer to it in the confessional.). Bookmark part 2, chapter 19 for reference in future confessions. Write out a solemn resolution as described in part 1, chapter 20, and bring the resolution with you into the confessional. Make a good confession, accusing yourself directly, simply, and specifically as directed in part 1, chapter 19, and part 2, chapter 19.
• Step three: While still in the confessional, making your Act of Contrition -- in the part where you resolve to amend your life -- refer specifically to that solemn resolution that you wrote out and brought with you. Then, as directed in part 1, chapter 21, receive absolution and then go immediately to an appropriate place of prayer in the church. There, sign and date the resolution, then carry out the penance prescribed for you by the priest in the confessional.
• Finish reading part 1.
• Read the rest of part 2, one bit at a time, and trying to apply his advice in one chapter before moving on to the next: baby steps. These chapters are about everyday prayer and reception of the sacraments. After reading his advice about morning prayer in chapter 10, for example, you might compose a short morning prayer after his method (or choose a traditional formula); write it out; keep it by your bedside; and attempt to pray it for at least a few days before moving on to try the advice about evening prayer in chapter 11. When you get to the chapters about Communion, you might bookmark them and return to them regularly prior to receiving Communion for a while.
• Now you are going to choose just one or two virtues to work on developing in yourself. To discern which virtue you need to work on, first carefully reread part 1, chapters 22-24; then Part 3, chapters 1 and 2.
• Then, quickly and without trying to follow any of the advice in the chapters, read the remaining chapters in part 3 to get an overview of possible virtues that you could choose. I recommend reading the chapters in this order:
• First, a quick reread of chapters 1 and 2, along with 37, 23, and 24. All these deal with how to discern which virtues to focus on, and how to practice the virtues prudently, not to excess.
• Then, the chapters on practicing virtue in everyday life, in this order, taking it in chunks. Again, you are trying to discern which virtue you need to focus on, so don't follow the advice yet, just take it in and consider it. While reading Chapter 3 consider whether you need patience most. While reading chapters 4-7, consider whether you need to strengthen virtue when others are finding fault with you. While reading chapters 8-9, consider whether you need to develop these virtues that help you when faced with faults and frailties in yourself and others. Read chapters 10, 11, and -- note this -- 35, then consider whether you need to develop these virtues concerned with the performance of your duties. Skip to chapters 14-16 and consider whether you need to develop virtues that help you in times of material riches or material poverty. Read chapters 17-22 and consider the role of virtue in your friendships. Return to chapters 12 and 13, then read chapters 38-41, and consider the role of virtues in sexual matters. Finally, read the following chapters that give advice in dealings with society: chapter 25 on dressing attractively, chapters 26-30 on speaking honestly and respectfully, chapters 31-34 on having fun and recreation, and chapter 36 on fairness and reasonableness.
• Choose a virtue, return to the relevant chapter or chapters from part 3, and follow the advice relevant to that virtue alone while continuing to practice the skills taught in part 2 about prayer, meditation, and the sacraments. Do this for as long as it seems to be helping you to develop the virtue and grow in devotion. Give it a little bit of time if you seem to hit a plateau. But when you hit a plateau that seems permanent move on to part 4.
• Part 4 is the "troubleshooting guide" to the devout life. Read it through once quickly, without following any advice, before deciding how to proceed. It might be that you will find one or two chapters somewhere in it that specifically address a problem that you are specifically having, and you can go straight to them and begin following the instructions therein. Or you might decide to go back to the beginning of part 4 and slowly advance through it chapter by chapter, applying the advice in each chapter before moving on to the next, and continuing to try to follow the advice in the chosen chapters of part 3 (not ALL of part 3! Just the ones focused on your specifically chosen virtue!) and the general advice about prayer, meditation, and the sacraments from the chapters of part 2.

I don't include Part 5 in my bulleted list above, because all of Part 5 is an "annual review." You won't need to read it until approximately one year after the date of your signed resolution, or any time you want a "refresher" in the devout life. Or, if you have already gone through the method of the Introduction to the Devout Life, part 5 would make a good study for a spiritual retreat -- or for your Lenten renewal.

 

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Administration and reception.

Canon lawyer Ed Peters writes at First Things about the appropriateness of denying Communion to Catholics engaged in public behavior that would seem to exclude them. Mr. Peters points out that this issue has been around for quite a long time, and was first raised in the case of Catholics who have been divorced and are now living in civil marriages.

This problem of irregular public relationships has certainly not gone away, but now in the spotlight is the case of Catholic politicians who ardently support abortion, euthanasia, the redefinition of marriage to include unions that cannot possibly be marital in the sense that Catholics understand them, and other evils that (unlike harm-causing acts such as warfare and executions) cannot be reconciled with any interpretation of Catholic moral doctrine.

Many Catholics who support untraditional marriages, Pelosi’s near-perfect pro-abortion politics, or Rainbow Sash-style activism profess outrage at seeing the Eucharist “used as a weapon” against fellow Catholics. Others, however, are appalled at seeing such markedly contrarian Catholics take Holy Communion.

Mr. Peters states that he, along with Raymond Cardinal Burke, holds the view that sometimes a minister has the duty to withhold Holy Communion. He adds, "Against Burke’s view and mine stand some scattered negative episcopal demurrals (Cardinals Roger Mahony, emeritus of Los Angeles, and Donald Wuerl of Washington, D.C., come to mind) and some short essays by academics." Here we have Catholics disagreeing in what seems to be good faith about a matter of public import; Mr. Peters, the canon lawyer, is going to argue his side from the text of canon law.

I think Mr. Peters puts his finger on the point of contention (at least among Catholics) here:

Participation in Holy Communion is achieved by two related but distinct acts: the action of a member of the faithful in seeking Communion (reception) and the action of the minister in giving Communion (administration). These two actions are not only performed by different persons, they are governed by different canon laws. Virtually all confusion over Communion can be traced to the failure to keep these two actions distinct.

Canon 915 governs administration; Canon 916 governs reception.

Mr. Peters makes a good case that, yes, ministers have a duty to withhold Communion from certain individuals under certain circumstances, and the highly publicized cases of Catholic politicians who are either living in irregular unions or fervent supporters of legalized abortion have largely fallen under these circumstances. But he also points out that the conditions under which Communion may be withheld are, indeed, narrow.

...[T]he conditions requiring Communion to be withheld must be simultaneously satisfied before the minister may licitly withhold the Eucharist from a Catholic approaching for it publicly. To invoke canon 915 [the conditions requiring Communion to be withheld] against a member of the faithful who does not satisfy all of the terms of canon 915 is....to disregard the plain text of the law and, as St. Thomas warned centuries ago, to violate the fundamental rights of the faithful.

....[I]f a member of the faithful approaches Communion publicly and gives no indication of intending an external act of desecration, even the minister’s moral certitude that the would-be recipient suffers grave moral disarray does not permit him to withhold Communion. His grief at being a material cooperator in sacrilege may be joined to our Lord’s grief at so many unworthy receptions of himself.

This is important because the public outcry against withholding Communion has often been along the lines of "Doesn't the Church know that everyone is a sinner? If they start withholding Communion from people who live in second marriages or have the 'wrong' political views now, maybe they'll withhold it for something else less serious next!"

It is important to be clear that the minister does not get to judge the entire conscience or conduct of the Catholic who approaches for Communion. The only judgment he gets to make is what is outlined in Canon 915. Ambiguous cases, Peters argues, "must be decided in favor of receiving the Sacrament."

One might argue that it is silly to stress the limitations of Canon 915 when, it seems, the problem we are living in is one of laxity, not overzealousness, in protecting the Sacrament from sacrilege and in protecting the faithful from scandal.

I think it is important, though, to point out that the rules, properly enforced, contain limitations which are meant to protect the right of the faithful to receive the sacrament. It is also scandalous to give the impression that bishops and pastors have the power to unilaterally and arbitrarily decide to withhold the sacrament. They do not.

That some of them appear to unilaterally and arbitrarily decide not to withhold the sacrament -- in situations with no ambiguity -- contributes to the impression of lawlessness. We would all be better off if we stuck to the text; it is there for a reason, in Catholic jurisprudence just as in civil jurisprudence.

 

Post secondary education questions: the religious education.

_{(This post is part of the series on postsecondary education.)}

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This post is the third in a set that includes "The provider's education" and "The humanist's education."

I want to emphasize again, as I did in the other posts, that I am aware that the three "educations" don't separate neatly, that they are overlaid upon one another and every element supports every other (and in some ways contains every other). It is really a sort of trinity, and carving it up into three separate purposes necessarily obscures the whole.

That doesn't stop me from trying, because I think it will help. Here is a carefully chosen subset of the elements of the necessary content of education that relates most directly to religious and spiritual development and the reception of the sacraments.

Elements of moral, religious and spiritual development that THE FAMILY is expected to inculcate and teach

That true happiness is found in God alone, the source of every good.

The family teaches that the material and instinctual dimensions are subordinate to interior and spiritual ones.

The family must teach children a sense of true love, understood as sincere solicitude and disinterested service.

The family must introduce children to personal dialogue with God.

The family must teach children to know God, to worship, and to love their neighbor.

The family must teach children the Gospel.

The family should educate children so that, if they marry, they can by means of that education establish their family in moral conditions which tend to promote or facilitate the establishment of that family.

The family is called to give children a sex education that is built on the premise that love is self-giving.

The family must educate the child for chastity.

The family must teach children to know and respect the moral norms of human sexuality.

The family builds the proximate preparation for the sacraments of Christian marriage upon the foundation laid in the remote preparation for marriage.

The family will teach, in that proximate preparation, that marriage is an interpersonal relationship of a man and woman that has to be continually developed.

The family will encourage, in that proximate preparation, the study of the nature of conjugal sexuality.

The family, in proximate preparation, will prepare young people for the family apostolate, for collaboration with other families, and membership in groups set up for the human and Christian benefit of the family.

The family must begin the formation of the child's conscience, awakening the child to the knowledge and practice of the interior law.

Elements of religious and spiritual development that THE INDIVIDUAL is enjoined to seek for himself

Each person must form his conscience to enjoin him to do good and avoid evil.

Each person must form his conscience to bear witness to the authority of truth in reference to God.

Each person must form his conscience to welcome the commandments.

An individual becomes capable of respecting and fostering the nuptial meaning of the body by building on the virtue of chastity.

An individual grows responsibly in human sexuality by building on the moral norms that are taught by the parents.

An individual learns control and right use of his inclinations by building on the moral norms that are taught by the parents.

A layperson is encouraged to receive a sufficient formation in theology.

 

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To these I should add that, on the cusp of entering into marriage, the individual is responsible for obtaining the educational content of immediate preparation for marriage.

Recall that we have been restricting the discussion mostly to the case of young people who will likely be called to marriage and family life, so preparation for holy orders need not here be considered. In the Roman rite, the formation in the sacraments of baptism, Eucharist, penance and confirmation generally take place under the parents' auspices, unless for some reason confirmation was delayed. (It isn't unheard of for Catholic parents to agree to let a young person decide for himself when -- if ever -- to be confirmed. Let's not debate right now whether that is a good idea, and simply point out that it could happen that a young adult might put off confirmation until later.). But the immediate sacramental preparation for marriage is educational in nature and is the responsibility of the engaged couple.

It seems pretty clear that a complete foundation in moral and religious training -- as distinct from "theology," which is an academic subject -- is the responsibility entirely of the parents. Latent competency in practically every aspect of the Christian life, married or single, ought to be developed before the child is emancipated.

In this day and age, it seems to me, parents need to anticipate future challenges and aggressively head then off by equipping their children with the tools to find answers to those challenges. This may mean stepping outside comfort zones and being more frank than parents of earlier generations would have had to be.

Here is an example that is highly specific to Catholicism. Parents can expect young adults to encounter aggressive promotion of contraception as a necessary and good part of a healthy marriage. Unfortunately, we can expect them to encounter the viewpoint that contraception is healthy and necessary even from organizations that are directly connected to the Catholic church. Many of us have heard stories from people who claim they were given permission to use contraception in the confessional itself.

Because parents can expect young people to encounter this view, parents have (I would argue) a serious responsibility to equip their adolescents with clear information about trustworthy sources of Catholic teaching, to provide enough medical and biological information about licit means of family planning to counteract common falsehoods about its efficacy and difficulty, and to discuss family planning as a specific area in which to live the truth that love is self-giving.

That is just one example.

Parents should not count on a religious college to inculcate values that they have failed to pass on. It seems plausible that parent and offspring together could come to the conclusion that a particular private religious school could offer necessary support to a particular young person's development, and that the extra cost would be well spent. But it doesn't seem plausible to conclude that a private religious school is objectively necessary.

Very little of the religious and spiritual formation delineated here is dependent on formal enrollment in an institution of higher education. Mostly, it seems, the individual is called to maintain and build upon the foundation laid in childhood and adolescence: to continue forming his conscience, to distinguish good from evil in ever thornier dilemmas, to deepen his resolve through constant practice of right living.

Remember that the young person not enrolled in a private religious school still has access to a parish (and that needn't be the one his parents and younger siblings attend); he still has access to voluntary religious associations and clubs; he still has access to religious publications; he still has access to the sacraments; he still has access to private prayer. If he is enrolled in a public college or lives near one, there are likely student religious organizations available. Many of the same advantages of studying at a private religious college can be found in these other environments.

A homeschool post I can really relate to.

"Five things I hate about homeschooling" at Simple Homeschool.

It's not just a laundry list of gripes. It's an honest look at parts of the job that aren't so fun, and an explanation of how she copes with them.

I can really relate to "Being with my children 24/7" and to "The overwhelming responsibility I feel for their education." I cope in some of the exact same ways.

Besides those two things, I would round out my own "5 things I hate" thusly:

3. I hate that I can never quite get the house clean. I don't mean decluttered, because I am pretty good at keeping the stuff at a manageable level; I mean grime and fingerprints and unmentionable smears and crud in the corners of things.

I cope with this by hiring a cleaning service once a month. Frankly I wish I could justify the expense of twice a month. We spend the evening beforehand thoroughly picking up the things on the floor and clearing the counters so that the cleaner can work quickly and we get our money's worth, and then we stay in one room to do school while the cleaner is here. This has given me so much peace of mind, because I know that however bad it looks now, in less than a month we will be sure to have it all looking great... for a few hours. And at least the grime won't build up more than a month's worth of layers.

4. Homeschooling reinforces one of my worst character flaws: I am a workaholic. I am one of those people who doesn't know how to relax, or rather, who has to be doing SOMETHING all the time. And the nature of homeschooling is that the work is literally never done. Even when the teaching is over for the day, you could always get a head start on dinner, or on planning the next week, month, or year, or on fleshing out your philosophy of higher education, or researching college requirements online, or re-organizing some corner of the schoolroom. Look at me: I am sitting down enjoying some leisure right now while the children unload the dishwasher, and what hobby am I engaged in? Blogging about homeschooling. Hmph.

I haven't learned to cope with this very well, except to go along with my husband when he says, "It's Sunday afternoon and we are going to do something fun whether you like it or not."

5. I get extremely tired of the sound of my own voice. I talk and talk and talk and talk to the children, because that is my job, since I teach them. There is so much I have to tell them today, and so much concentrating I have to do to work out what I am going to tell them tomorrow, that it's hard to take the time to listen to them instead.

No, I haven't figured out how to cope with the sound of my own voice. Maybe I should ask my husband how he does it.

Sightseers.

A little background, first.

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One of the things I took away from my in-depth reading of Introduction to the Devout Life was the importance of making a distinction between sins and weaknesses.    I wrote here:

 Sin and weakness are distinct problems, and so Francis means to give distinct advice about them.  

Perhaps five hundred years ago people made more careful distinctions among the categories of sin, temptations to sin, and weakness. They are not the same. A sin is a specific act; a temptation to sin is an internal or external urge toward a specific act; weakness is, I would venture, a tendency to be assuaged by and easily overcome by temptations of a particular sort. The more I read this book, the more I come to believe that our attempts to reform ourselves are seriously muddied by treating weakness as sin and sin as weakness.

For example, lots of people write about their weaknesses (vanity, laziness, impatience, selfishness, gluttonous tendencies) with a distinct tone of guilt. But guilt or compunction is entirely inappropriate towards weaknesses. It's appropriate towards sin, towards sins -- towards instances when our weaknesses made it easier for us to be overcome by temptation, and so we committed sins against charity or whatever.

I wrote more specifically about the distinction between gluttony-the-weakness and gluttony-the-sin in the comments here.  I wrote some here about the replacement of the weakness of gluttony with the weakness of vanity.  And, pointedly, I came away from Francis's writings with the distinct impression that, in the confessional, confessing weaknesses as if they were sins is to accuse yourself of generalities, almost as good as making no confession at all.  

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That's one of the most fruitful ideas that I inferred from Francis's work:  that guilt or compunction is inappropriate response toward your own weakness.  (Just as condemnation would be an inappropriate response to someone else's).  Since I took that in and understood it, the sacrament of confession has been wonderfully simplified for me and -- I believe -- more honest.  

It is so, so easy to hide behind a screen euphemisms and generalities.  If you forbid yourself from confessing weaknesses, you are left only with your sins.    Not:  I was impatient with my children, but this:  I struck one child in anger and yelled hurtful things to another.  Not:  I keep getting distracted in prayer,  but this: I deliberately passed up opportunities to pray when my mind was clearer.  Not:  I am still struggling with gluttony,  but this:  I ate the last of the cookies, the ones that were supposed to be saved for the kids' tea time, and lied about it later.

You see how that works.

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During Lent I finally found a good time and place to go to confession frequently, and I've been returning monthly ever since.    And I have been marveling at the quiet but forceful effects of confessing regularly.

It works, I now see, because I found a time and place that's convenient to my schedule, not necessarily to my tastes.  I make my confession on a kneeler before a screen, in a "reconciliation room," off a small, modern chapel, deep within a large, old church near my home.  For privacy's sake, the sign requests penitents to refrain from occupying the small modern chapel; we wait in line in the hall outside, and after absolution we may go upstairs to the vast, high-ceilinged church.  This is what I do, partly because of the sign, and partly because the vast, high-ceilinged church is to my taste.  I kneel in a rear pew and say my penance, taking in the view, of the marble crucifix, the glittering tabernacle, the domed altar canopy, Mary's stone mantle spread over all.

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This church is large, old, beautiful, and important.  And so, among the booklets of prayer devotions and flyers for crisis pregnancy centers, its keepers stock on the tables behind the rear pew many helpful information sheets detailing the history of the building, and also brochures explaining the points along the self-guided tour.  Sightseers take the brochure with them and make their own stations, audibly appreciating the quality of the historic art.  Today there are several different small groups milling about the church as I say my Our Fathers and my Hail Mary and my Act of Contrition.   A woman walks up to a stone confessional, unhesitatingly swings open the wooden door and peeks inside -- it's empty, I'm glad she chose that one, instead of the one on the other side of the church that I happen to know is used for storing cleaning supplies -- before she turns and moves on to look at something else.   The sightseers do not disturb me -- they are probably checking out the church before they leave to get ready for the lovely wedding that will surely take place here in a few hours.  I say a prayer for the unknown couple, that they will be and remain in God's friendship.  

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I do, however, feel a stab of selfish desire to be sightseen, even though I do not appear in the self-guided tour.  I have a dollar in my pocket, that today no panhandler asked me for; I get up and carry it to the corner where only two or three of the votives are yet lit.

 Here we have the high altar, 24 feet square.  And here we have the bronze doors, added in 1955.  And here, before the chapel of the Immaculate Conception, we have a woman on her knees in tears.  

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The statue in the chapel of the Immaculate Conception is tall -- life-sized, or larger, I don't remember.  The statue is unpained stone, pale, perhaps faintly rosy.  Pale Mary crushes the pale serpent's head, and she wears a crown of pale flowers.  I have taken my sins to confession and received absolution for them; but the weaknesses remain, they ought not be confessed, and they cannot be absolved.  Only burned away.    Still, here is a place, it occurs to me, where I can ask for help with them, beg prayers -- that God will -- what?  Break, blow, burn, and make me new.   O Lovely.  O Beautiful.  O Immaculata.  Here is beauty, bare and silent stone.   

The Immaculate Conception receives all graces.

One of these days I will remember to bring tissues.  

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The sightseers are still here, watching with interest as some staff member  fiddles with the candles on the wide bronze chandelier, which has been lowered by a pulley to within reach of a ladder.  I leave my one-dollar votive flickering before the Immaculate Conception and cross the aisle.  The striking of my heeled sandals echo in the hollow space as I cross to the chapel that is its left-hand mirror image, before which many more candles glow.  

Which is it?  Ah yes:  the Virgin of Guadalupe.  I kneel before the mosaic, which is a very recent addition to this church, but a faithful representation of the image, and a beloved one, to judge from the candles.  

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I feel emptied out from my time before the chapel on the other side.  I can find nothing more to say to the Virgin or to ask from her.  I study the glittering chips that make up the picture.  I open my eyes and study the picture.  This Virgin is colorful, even gaudy.   This Virgin, it seems, answers back.  

Her hair, her skin, her clothes are a message.  You know the story, don't you? Her dark skin and black hair reveal her as a mother of the Americas.  Her clothes reveal the Savior.   The jewelry at her throat bears a cross.  The arrangement of the floral pattern on her dress means she, a woman, is the mother of God.  The black belt announces that she is pregnant.  Her mantle is the color worn by queens. It is strewn with stars.

The Virgin of Guadalupe answers all vanities.

One of these days I will remember to bring tissues.

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I came to the church as an adult, not a child -- well, really, somewhere in between.  Catholicism remains for me strange and exotic even at the same time as it is my home.   I have never really been able to tell the difference between what is for all the natives, what is for the sightseers, and what is just for me.

Perhaps there is no difference.

First Holy Communion. The second one, I mean. For me.

Kneelers on rehearsal day.

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Practicing the procession.

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He made it to the correct pew.  I guess he's ready.

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Enjoying the bubble wrap that his present from Mark was wrapped in

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Is it time to leave for church yet?

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The cherry tree cooperated for the day.

 

Even the first-communicant is pressed into service, taking a picture of his godparents and their children:

 

The redhead is my godson.  The two boys were baptized on the same day:

 

 

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Awful cute, aren't they?

These chairs will soon be full of first-communicants.

 

We love to watch girls in pretty dresses around here.

 

Party time.  Who needs a cake when you can have first dibs on an entire assortment of donuts from the GOOD grocery store?

 

I may have missed the shot of him receiving first Communion, but at least I got this one:

How to read Introduction to the Devout Life: a wrap-up post.

Over the last eight months, I've been blogging my way through St. Francis de Sales's Introduction to the Devout Life. The book charmed me almost immediately with its familiar, modern voice (at least in Father Michael Day's translation). Too, the advice was so much more practical than what you find in a lot of spiritual works: St. Francis explicitly writes for people, especially women, who live and work and carry out many duties in the world and yet long for greater devotion.   Also appealing: the book promises to be a really basic manual of devotion, the kind of thing that gets a beginner started without overwhelming her, or that helps clear away the unhelpful, faith-choking accumulation of "doing too much" and lays it bare to the soil, making room for a fresher, vigorous prayer life to begin to thrive. 

As I went along, I discovered that it's not a ready-made modern-style self-help book; that is, you can't expect to pick it up for the first time, open it to page one, and immediately begin following its instructions. Not until I had read most of the way through it, and grasped its overall structure, did I really understand how to use the book.

Once I figured these out, though, I found that I really could "use" it the way some people use a breviary or a copy of Magnificat or a well-worn book of prayers. I found that I was always carrying my (fortunately small-sized) copy around in my bag, not because I thought I should but because I felt I might want it! 

So, even though I've already laboriously blogged that first trip through the book, I want to share some suggestions in two or three posts -- so that others might be able to pick the book up and immediately begin to use it. Maybe I can save some people some time.

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The first thing to understand about ITTDL is the five-part structure.  Besides an Author's Preface, which is worth reading as it explains his purpose, these are the distinct sections:


(1) Part one is a sort of invitation to a conversion experience. It consists of step-by-step instructions, with encouragement from St. Francis, describing how the reader, "Philothea," can advance from a simple desire for devotion to a strong resolution that she will embrace the devout life.

The desire is the pre-requisite, but St. Francis assumes that it must be there or else "Philothea" would not have picked up the book.

In this section, St. Francis walks the reader through the steps of purging mortal sin out of her life and making confession. This, he explains,  is a duty, and God gives us no impossible duties, so we can have confidence that it is attainable.  Next, in the same section, St. Francis tells the reader how to rid herself of attachment to mortal sin:  in order to do this, he explains, the reader must become aware of the attachments to sin and then become contrite.

To this end, St. Francis provides a set of daily meditations, culminating in the sought-for resolution. Over the course of the spiritual exercises, the reader stirs up in herself the fortitude to actively seek what she already weakly desires.

(2) Part two is an instruction manual on how to pray, worship, and receive the sacraments. A key thing to understand: Most people will have to use and refer to some of the advice in part two at the same time as they follow the instructions in part one. "If you are not yet accustomed to meditation read what is said about it in part two," writes Francis, looking ahead, when he outlines the spiritual exercises of part one.

In a subsequent post, I'll recommend bookmarking chapters in both parts and referring back and forth as necessary while working through the conversion to the embrace of the devout life.

Having made the resolution -- having finished reading Part 1 -- the reader can then study once again the chapters of part two, incorporating some more of its suggestions into daily prayer and worship. Once it has all been internalized, the reader can refer to its sections again and again for
guidance, perhaps opening the book at the start of morning and evening prayers or before going to confession to read St. Francis's words.  Bookmarks are useful here!  And if the reader finds she has to stop here for a while, working on part two while she builds the habits of devout daily prayer and of devout reception of sacraments, she can.  Not until her habits are taking root need she move on to part three.

(3) Part three takes the how-to even farther:  it explains how to practice individual virtues. Many virtues are described here, but at the same time Francis urges us to work on only one or a few virtues at a time, whatever needs strengthening in us the most. Probably each "Philothea" should begin by reading over all of the chapters, not yet following any of the instructions contained within, considering each virtue in turn. 

Although of course a modern Philothea could read the chapters in the order that St. Francis presented them, I have suggested an alternative sequence in which to read the chapters of Part Three, one that organizes them according to three themes:

• discerning which virtues to work on,
• practicing individual virtues in everyday life, and
• remaining devout in dealings with society.

After she has considered each of the virtues, which at one chapter a day should take more than two weeks, she can choose one or two virtues for her own intensive spiritual work (following principles which are explained in this part of the book) and then go back to the relevant chapters in part three, following the recommendations closely for as long as is necessary. 

(4) Part four is the "troubleshooting guide," or "snares of the enemy,"  which explains what Philothea can do when she encounters certain stumbling blocks.   By the time Philothea gets to part four, of course,  her practice of prayer and the sacraments will have matured, and she will have chosen a virtue or two to especially develop in herself.   Each daily reading from part 4 is a description of some problem she might encounter -- such as friends trying to undermine her efforts, or overconfidence that she can resist temptations.  After Philothea has read through each of these, she can consider whether she is having difficulty with any of these and, if so, follow the advice.  If not, she can at least take note of the possible stumbling blocks she might encounter in the future, and remember to turn to this section in her time of need.

(5) Part five is an "annual review," which St. Francis recommends undergoing every year around the time of the Feast of the Lord's Baptism.  In it, St. Francis walks Philothea through a set of spiritual exercises that makes a sort of mini-retreat, culminating in renewal of the resolution arrived at in Part 1.  Francis encourages the reader to examine herself closely, to give thanks for all signs of progress however tiny, and frankly acknowledge where she has impeded her progress through willfulness or sloth.  Then she is to re-commit herself to the resolution she made at the beginning of her journey with St. Francis's method.

This section should bring the reader back to the middle sections of book at least once a year for a few weeks, and be an occasion to refresh her memory of all the good advice in the book.  She can check the "troubleshooting guide" (part 4) to see if it has any special help for her current difficulties; she can consider whether to continue developing the same virtue (as in part 3) or whether to turn her attention to another one that is lacking in her; and she can evaluate her practice of prayer and the sacraments (in the light of part 2).

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So you see, understanding how the WHOLE book is put together suggests a way to use it -- a way that is much more than just starting at page one and continuing through to the end; neither following every direction in the book, nor reading it passively without getting past, "Yeah, I should try some of this." 

See why I've been carrying it around with me for more than a year?

 

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UPDATE:  Just a reminder that Jennifer Fulwiler of Conversion Diary has adopted St. Francis de Sales as her patron saint for 2011 and is also doing a series of posts on Introduction to the Devout Life.  Here's a recent post.

My quote of the day.

From norabmore:

"I wonder if a priest can tell if perfectly nice little girls have older brothers by the little sisters’ first confessions."

Ha ha.  Our 7-y-o boy just made his first confession this past weekend, so timely...

 

Erin Manning on headcoverings for Mass.

I pretty much agree with Erin Manning's take on chapel veils/mantillas/headscarves and the like at Mass.

To begin with, though, let's look at this recent comment from Father Z.'s poll/post:

"Why does the head covering always have to be a 19th-century mediterranean mantilla – or whatever it is? You might as well wear an ancient Athenian helmet. What’s the idea here? Cover the hair? Cover the top of the head? Look almost like a (habited) nun while retaining enough distinction to show you’re not? Would a zaccheto do? Would a chador be too much?

"Which of the Easter bonnets in the movie Easter Parade would suffice?" 

I have often wondered about that, too...

A traditionalist website to which I will not link (a policy of mine) asserts that Christian women have practiced "veiling" for two thousand years; this "veiling" took place when women entered a church or were in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. I tend to smile, a little, at such statements--because there is such a false impression given by them. We see, in our mind's eye, a simple European peasant girl, passing by a church on a weekday; she pauses, makes the sign of the cross, carefully drapes a large and elegant lace veil over her head, and enters to make a visit to the Blessed Sacrament...

But a quick visit to the paintings of someone like Jean Francois Millet shows us what that peasant girl would more likely be wearing--a simple twist of some rough fabric, which she wore all the time to cover her head, not just when she happened to pass a church. Some nicer fabric, or an actual hat, might repose in her closet for Sunday; but lace, in the days before machine-made lace, was impossibly expensive and not likely to belong to most Catholic women.

In fact, a single lace mantilla in Madrid in the year 1830 could cost today's American equivalent of six hundred to two thousand dollars. Middle-class women scrimped and saved to afford mantillas with lace borders, while poorer women made do with fabric mantillas in the best fabric they could afford.

Did they do this to honor the Lord? Well, according to a book written in that time, in Madrid in 1830 women in the middle and lower classes still wore their mantillas as their "everyday" head coverings. Only the wealthiest women--the ones with the fanciest veils--started saving their mantillas for church and wearing the newer (and even more costly!) European hats to the theater and other social venues.

How it is that the mantilla, a particularly Spanish form of head covering, became the preferred head covering of traditional women in America in the twenty-first century is truly puzzling. 

By all means, cover your hair if you want to, or don't if you don't want to.  There are good arguments both for and against.  But I'm with the other Erin in wondering -- why mantillas?  I mean, they are beautiful, but really, a bandanna would also do the trick, and if I decided to cover my hair for Mass, that's probably the route I'd take.   Or some kind of wicking performance fabric, more likely.

And then, the judgment I'd probably receive would be "Huh, guess she didn't have time to wash her hair this morning." 

Introduction to the Devout Life: Introduction and structure of part five.

For other posts in this series about St. Francis de Sales's most well-known work, follow this link to the index, also available in the right sidebar.

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I let a lot of time go by since I finished writing about part four.  Never fear:  I will pretend that I did it on purpose, because part five is dedicated to "Renewal and Preservation of Devotion."

From the introduction, chapter 1 of part five:

The following spiritual exercises are designed to renew and confirm our resolution to embrace the devout life.  The first thing is to be convinced of their importance.

That's St. Francis, beginning at the beginning.  I like how he doesn't assume that we know already that devotion needs renewal.  Even though we have made it almost all the way through his book, he doesn't assume that we're going to take his word for anything.  

...We only too easily fall away from our high purposes unless we often renew our good resolutions, like birds who fall to the ground unless they use their wings to maintain themselves in flight.  

We must ... renew time and time again our resolutions to serve God lest we fall back, not only to our former state but to a state worse than the first, for this is what always happens when we fall back in the spiritual life.

I'd like to point out here that St. Francis is not proposing we use the spiritual exercises of Chapter Five when we find that we have fallen back, but rather "lest we fall back" -- they are preventative medicine.  Note the reference to birds.  The "renewal" of which Francis speaks here is a constant renewal, not an occasional one.

Here's the first question I have.   All along in the middle three parts of the book, Francis has been recommending spiritual exercises to be practiced regularly -- so what's going to be different about these?  Do we renew our devotion at longer intervals, or in response to certain symptoms of beginning to fall away, or what?  I don't know yet -- as I progress through this chapter, and maybe after I finish reading it, I'll try to tie it all together into a unified sort of a "program."

Francis draws an analogy -- quite a modern one from his early-1600's perspective, I should point out -- to annually "stripping" a clock:

No matter how good a clock may be it must be wound up repeatedly and overhauled every year for cleaning, for repairing parts that have become defective, and replacing those that are worn out.  Our heart must be, as it were, wound up twice a day by morning and evening prayers and often examined, re-adjusted, and corrected; it should be stripped at least once a year so that all its desires and inclinations may be examined in detail and any defects remedied.

The difference here between the annual review and the more quotidian adjustments:  Winding a clock and correcting the time it shows are performed easily through mechanisms built into the exterior of the clock -- you attach the provided key and turn it, you reach up and nudge the hands forward or back a little bit.   When you "strip" the clock, you're opening it up and taking it all apart and testing each component for worthiness, as well as cleaning all the gunk out of the hidden corners.  

Francis continues the clock analogy:

A watchmaker uses fine oil to preserve the mechanism from rust and make it run more smoothly; we should do the same with our heart, after having overhauled it, by means of confession and Holy Communion...

And then he points to the example of the early Christians to suggest a point in the liturgical year where we might conveniently perform this annual overhaul:

St. Gregory Nazianzen* tells us that the early Christians used diligently to renew their baptismal promise on the anniversary of our Lord's baptism; let us gladly follow their example...

The "anniversary of our Lord's baptism" is the solemnity that we celebrate on the Sunday after January 6, Epiphany.  So it's coming up on 1/9/11.  That gives me a handy deadline for getting through enough of this chapter to allow myself or anyone else to prepare for renewal, no?

So, let's take a look at what's coming up in this part, so we can grasp the overall structure.  

I.  Chapter 2, "The Value of Your Resolution:"  "Make two or three meditations" on the six points listed in the chapter.

II.  Beginning with Chapter 3, "Examination of Conscience:"  Three separate examinations.  "Examine at one time... your conduct towards God, at another your duty to yourself and the state of your inclination, at another your conduct towards your neighbor."  Specific advice is given for each of these in Chapters 4-6.  ADDED:  But see below:  Francis offers a shorter form of the examination.

III.  Chapter 7, "An Examination of Your General Dispositions:"  Now Francis turns away from the examination of sins and considers a more thorough self-examinations of the passions and inclinations that sway us:  love, hatred, desire, fear, hope, sadness, joy.   We are to take measure of these in ourselves.  

UPDATE.  Having looked this over again, I think I got that wrong.  Actually, this is an alternative form of the examination of sins described in detail in II, above.  If the examination of sins is "too laborious" or otherwise inappropriate -- maybe you're not much of a sinner, or maybe you have trouble recalling specific sins --  Francis prescribes a thorough examination of "dispositions" instead, that is, of the passions and inclinations that sway us:  love, hatred, desire, fear, hope, sadness, joy.  If we do not perform the detailed examination in II, then we are to take measure of these in ourselves.

(And while we're at it, let's praise St. Francis for making such a crisp distinction between sins and inclinations.  The trendy therapy-style attitude toward church makes us really sloppy about this, and it tricks us into confessing things that are not sins and leaving the real sins unconfessed.)

IV.  Chapter 8, "Spiritual Acts in Conclusion:"  A very specific, seven-step meditation.

V.  Beginning with Chapter 9, "Considerations on Renewing your Resolution."  Five daily meditations in some detail, given in Chapters 10-14.

VI.  Chapter 15, "General Considerations in Conclusion."  A complicated chapter consisting of advice to meditate further, to make plans for spiritual practices in the upcoming year, to beg God for help, and finally to make confession and Holy Communion.  Chapter 16 is a reminder to stay tranquil when passing from these prayers and sacraments back to daily life.

We're not done yet, but let's pause to look over all that.  I count fourteen or fifteen meditations in all, plus going to confession at the end.  I guess Francis must mean for us to BEGIN these meditations on the Feast of the Lord's Baptism, because it's going to take us about two weeks at minimum to get through it, and if we tried to end on the Lord's Baptism we'd be stretching back into the Christmas season, which is not the time for that sort of thing.  Yeesh!  By the time we're done with this it'll be almost Lent.

(Actually, that's not true, at least not this year.  Ash Wednesday isn't till March 9.   Plenty of time to do all this and still be ordinary for a few weeks before Lent.)

Chapter 17 and Chapter 18 are the last two chapters in part five, and they form a sort of conclusion to the whole book rather than a conclusion to Part Five.  Ch. 17 is "An Answer to Two Objections" and Chapter 18 is "Final Advice."  I  will treat this pair later, along with the "Author's Preface" with which they form a pair of suitable "bookends" for the work as a whole.

So, that's what's coming up.  In the next post we'll get into Chapter 2.  I'll try to finish part 5 before the ninth of January.

 

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*St. Gregory "The Theologian" lived from 329 to around 390 in the East.