bearing blog

Terri and the Law

I want to clarify my posts on Terri somewhat.

Do I think it's wrong to starve her to death?  Absolutely.  And I have no doubt that's actually what's going on:  she is being deliberately killed, and the instrument of her murder is the intentional withholding of food and water for no other purpose than to bring about her death.

It's wrong.  Absolutely wrong.

Is it legal?

Yes.  It's legal.

Unjust laws must be opposed; indeed we have both the right and the duty to oppose them. 

Speech is the most important tool of opposition. 

Civil disobedience is another well-worn tool, and Americans are rightly proud of its history in our country.  That's why I admire the protesters who are  deliberately getting themselves arrested for the crime of carrying cups of water across police lines; yes, even the ones who are getting their children involved (assuming the children understand what they are getting into).  If it is good to bring children to any political protest at all---and I've seen them at many---it is certainly good to bring them to this one. 

The most formal measure: lawsuits brought by individuals challenging the application of law in a particular case.  That's what the courts are for.  And that's why I don't fault the Schindler family for grasping at the wispiest of legal straws in their effort to save their daughter. 

But even though unjust laws must be opposed, at the same time it's an understandable and defensible position for someone charged with carrying out the law to say "I wish I could do more, but I have to follow that law."  So I can't fault Jeb Bush either here, at least not at this stage in the game.  (Do I think he should order an autopsy if Terri dies?  Heck yes.)

The rules of the game have already been laid down.  The moral battle for Terri's life was lost when Florida included tube-delivered food and water in the list of "medical treatments" that a guardian may withdraw from a ward without prior authorization.  I doubt that most of the legislators intended direct euthanasia when they wrote the law, but the law certainly wasn't written carefully enough to exclude it.  Terri's might be the death that prompts legislators in Florida and other states to prevent future euthanizations-by-starvation by repealing that and similar provisions.  Or not; even though I think it's obvious that a ventilator is a medical treatment and a feeding tube is basic nursing care, no more artificial than a baby's bottle, perhaps the general public will never be persuaded to see it like this.  Perhaps the general public really does want to be given the choice to be euthanized, or rather, the possibility of being euthanized without being given a choice.

(I can still try to persuade them.  Should a guardian be able to order that her diapers remain unchanged, so that she lies in her own menstrual blood, excrement and urine?  Should he be able to order that no one turn her, so that her bedsores fester to the bone?  Should he be able to order that no one clean her teeth, or brush her hair, or trim her fingernails?  If not any of these things, then how, how, how can it be acceptable to order that no one feed her or give her water?)

The other part of the rules of the game, of course, is the guardianship.  I'm glad that a presumptive guardian exists.  I'm even glad that it's the husband, and not the parents; goodness, I hope no one, especially my "just shoot me in the head" dad, ever wrenches custody of me away from my spouse should I become disabled.  But custody can be lost, of course.  Even parents can quickly lose custody of their children, sometimes with little or no due process:  all it takes is for a court to find it in the "best interests" of the children.  A court.  And that's the way the law is written.  Huge power to decide custody battles rests in the hands of judges and judges alone, on a case-by-case basis.

And that's what happened here.  And that's why Michael Schiavo is caring for Terri Schiavo:  a judge had to believe it was in Terri's best interest, and that it continued to be in Terri's best interest.  Ultimately, that it is more in her interest to be starved to death than to be fed and cared for.

What's the guardianship law in your state?

What's the living-will law in your state?

If there's a problem with either, now---when everyone has Terri on their minds---is the time to change it.

Christus resurrexit hodie.

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.

This isn't a rare case.

Something that most Catholic bloggers haven't emphasized:

Terri Schiavo isn't really a "rare" case. Stronger people pull feeding tubes out of weaker people all the time. And a lot of those times the sick person didn't have their wishes in writing and nobody really knows what they would have wanted. And some of those times family members disagree about what to do.

Terri is perhaps special because there are so many arguments for keeping the tube in, many of which rest on what I'll call "common decency" rather than specifically Catholic doctrine. (1) her wishes aren't known (2) her guardian appears to have several ulterior motives (3) the courts may not have given her a fair shake (4) it is debatable whether she is in a PVS or whether she is conscious and able to suffer from her starvation (5) someone is willing and able to shoulder all the burdens of her care.

But let's not forget that even if no one were willing to shoulder the burdens of her care, it would be wrong to starve her. Even if she were certainly in a PVS, it would be wrong to starve her. Even if the courts had given her a fair shake, it would be wrong (though legal) to starve her. Even if Michael Schiavo's reputation were impeccable, it would be wrong to starve her (though if he thought otherwise through no fault of his own, his guilt might be mitigated).

And does this happen? Yes. And are we outraged? No. Maybe because that battle has already been fought and lost, when "nutrition and hydration" were included in the list of "medical treatments" that can be denied to the dying.

The "easiest case" for most people may be the hardest case for us: when a patient has explicitly directed her own starvation in an advance care directive. It is clearly wrong, in the first place, to direct your guardian to starve you. But once a believer becomes the guardian of someone who explicitly has directed him to starve her, what should he do? Abandon guardianship? Disobey the order? Or wash his hands of it and carry out her wish?

For Christians who side with Michael Schiavo: Matthew 25:31-46

"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne,

and all the nations will be assembled before him.  And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the king will say to those on his right,

'Come, you who are blessed by my Father.  Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.'

Then the righteous will answer him and say,

'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?'
When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?'

And the king will say to them in reply,

'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Then he will say to those on his left,

'Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.
For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.'

Then they will answer and say,

'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?'

He will answer them,

'Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.'

And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life."

Hello?  Hello?

Palm Sunday 2005

Palm Sunday Mass was amazing.  I am so happy at our new parish.

The processional song was All Glory, Laud and Honor (link plays music). I'd never heard it before.

This is the first procession I've ever seen that didn't try to make everyone in the church cram into the lobby and then process awkwardly in.  Instead the procession came in from the back and wound around and around the sanctuary.  I was free to stand in the pew, sing joyfully, and drink the whole thing in.  For the first time in my life, I felt I was watching the kind of Hosannas that greeted the Lord.

The procession included about a dozen Knights of Columbus in full regalia, including swords, delighting my four-year-old son. About thirty children followed, waving double fistfuls of palms. And I mean waving:  not a gentle, dignified swaying, as I've always imagined, but rattling them excitedly like long rustly pompoms.  Of course!  And of course, that's what it would have been.  I never understood what was so special about being honored with palm branches.  But they are streamers, they are ready-made flags to wave, to rattle excitedly, while you jump up and down and hope you'll be noticed, if the hero turns his head your way when he passes by. 

Youths carried banners bearing images of the crown of thorns, the lance, and other symbols of the Passion. All processed around and around the sanctuary, up and down the aisles, singing.

I couldn't sing. I wept. It was just so dear and real to me.

The reading of the Passion was another new experience.  This time it was chanted. The narrator sang a warm baritone. Pilate's, the crowds', the soldiers' voices were sung by a powerful but reedy tenor. Our priest chanted the words of Jesus.

I thought of how singular it is that Palm Sunday Mass contains both Hosanna and Crucify him, how close together they are, how quickly popular sentiment can change.  St Faustina writes in her Diary:

March 21, 1937.  Palm Sunday.  During Mass, my soul was steeped in the bitterness and suffering of Jesus.  Jesus gave me to understand how much he had suffered in that triumphal procession.  "Hosanna" was reverberating in Jesus' heart as an echo of "Crucify." 

What reverberates in our hearts?

The hipster PDA

There are times when I slip into the worst gadget-centered materialism.  This morning, no doubt spurred by Ann Althouse, I caught myself wondering if I should buy an iPod.  Further examination revealed the following motives:

1. I am ashamed that I haven't regularly listened to music since my first son (now 4) reached toddlerhood and we packed our CD collection away to protect it.
2. I am ashamed that a new technology has swept the nation and I have never once touched it, played with it, or caused it to do my bidding.
3. I think I might look cool with one displayed prominently on my body somewhere.  (Note to self:  Also file this post under Category: Self-Delusions)

But I'm still finding a certain amount of satisfaction in low-tech solutions to daily life.  Example: the hipster PDA. 

Used mine in the coffeeshop the other day to construct a warning flag on my power cord, which otherwise posed a trip/flying laptop/clothesline hazard stretched across the rear exit.

What the World Needs...

...are drive-through window grocery stores.

Imagine.  You're driving home.  It's four-thirty.  In your back seat, a baby sleeps in his infant seat and a four-year-old has zonked out next to him.  You need to make dinner when you get home.  To do that, you need to pick up a few things at the grocery store.  But those kids really need that nap right now.

So you pull into your local Cub, or Kroger, or Piggly Wiggly, or Big Bear (aw, who'm I kidding; around here the first to offer it would be Byerly's or Lunds.   They don't even bag your groceries at Cub) and maneuver your car into the drive-through lane, waiting your turn and listening to "All Things Considered" while your children sleep.

It's rush hour, so the "10 Item Limit, Please" sign is illuminated.  You brake and peer up at the "menu" of available items, a small but carefully crafted selection of emergency groceries:

• Half-gallons of milk
• Coffee
• Eggs
• Butter (sold by the stick!)
• Half-gallons of orange juice
• Bread
• Bagged shredded cheese
• Ground beef
• Boneless, skinless chicken breasts
• Spaghetti
• Cans of diced tomatoes
• Bagged prewashed salad greens
• One or two kinds of cereal
• A "fresh vegetable of the day."  Today, it's green beans, preweighed in half pound bags.
• Toilet paper
• Diapers (remember the target market here)
• Maybe some other very basic toiletries

Hm, at home there's onions and tortilla chips and salsa and chili powder... You order a pound of ground beef, a bag of cheese, some bagged lettuce---oh yeah, we're almost out of milk, that too.  All set to make some taco salad.  You really like sour cream on it too, but oh well, have to put some yogurt on it instead.

"Your total is $12.22," says the cashier, leaning out the window for your credit card.  Not bad; a little more expensive than shopping in the store.  When it clears, you pull forward, wait a couple of minutes while she retrieves your items, and then reach out the window to receive a plastic grocery bag containing a pound of ground round double-wrapped in a second bag, a one-pound bag of shredded cheese, and a ten-ounce bag of Dole Classic Iceberg salad.  The milk is handed out next, a half-gallon of 2% in another plastic grocery bag. 

"Thanks," you say, and drive home, where you just might be able to get the kids, or at least the baby, inside and onto the couch without waking them up.

The list above is all most people, given a little creativity and enough odds and ends in their pantry at home, would need to get through 24 hours without going to the store.  The stocking space would have to be limited for customers to be served promptly; you'd want all these items to be right at hand for the one or two employees running the drive-through to be able to quickly assemble an order. 

I suppose, though, a few more items could be added that would increase the traffic:

• Two or three popular brands of soda, sold by the can or in two-liters (or just position a soda machine downstream of the window)
• Two or three types of salted snacks, e.g. tortilla chips, potato chips, and pretzels.  Maybe pork rinds for the low-carb folks.  Salsa too.
• Frozen or take-and-bake pizzas. 
• Jars of plain spaghetti sauce
• Hamburger Helper (TM)
• How could I forget!?  Rotisserie Chickens.
• Cans of soup---probably chicken noodle and tomato.
• Doughnuts from the bakery.

Another idea would be to include some "value combos"---something that would enable you to put together an entire dinner for four, already assembled, perhaps with a recipe included.  For example:

• A prebaked pizza shell, can of sauce, package of pepperoni, bag of pizza cheese, one green pepper and one onion.
• One and a half pounds of skinless, boneless chicken breasts, a green vegetable such as broccoli, one box of packaged rice pilaf, and a lemon.
• A box of Hamburger Helper (TM) along with the hamburger to be helped and, if necessary, supporting items such as cans of tomato paste.  (Just for the record, I do not eat the stuff.  I'm thinking mass appeal here).
• Some beef sliced for stir-fry, a package of frozen mixed vegetables, and a package of rice.
• A bag of corn tortillas, a couple cans of imported refried beans, a couple of cans of imported salsa, a tub of queso fresco, and a few fresh tomatoes.
• A box of spaghetti, two cans of whole tomatoes, an onion, a loaf of bread from the bakery, a chunk of Parmesan cheese (or some pre-shredded cheese), and a bagged Caesar salad.  Four ounces of Italian sausage could be added for an upcharge.

I'm not saying that all of these options should be available on any given day, but one or two could be nice.

If I had my way, I'd be able to get

• Brown rice
• Old-fashioned oats
• Butter
• Canned or aseptically packaged chicken broth
• Packages of tofu
• Fresh salmon filets
• Lemons
• Chard
• Garlic
• Fresh ginger
• Red and green bell peppers
• Spinach
• Cans of whole tomatoes
• Cans of tuna
• Quarts of plain yogurt

Add the chicken breasts and I could feed my family for weeks.

"Well-behaved women rarely make history."

That's the text of a bumper sticker on a car I drive past once or twice a week. 

Today The Anchoress pretty much blows that theory out of the water.  Or confirms it.  Depending on how you define "well-behaved."

Music for Mass

Some music isn't appropriate for Mass.  Why?

Until pretty recently, I uncritically enjoyed the folksy, eclectic, heavy-on-the-Celtic style of liturgical music that is common at many Catholic churches in the U.S.  I was proud to see in my little parish choir all kinds of instruments thrown together, from piano to electric bass to saxophones to African drums; even a little pipe organ tossed in from time to time. I used to brag to my Protestant friends about the quality of the music at my parish, and sniff at one friend's "conservative" distinction between "hymns" and "praise songs."  We Catholics adapted all kinds of styles to our worship, I thought proudly.  Diversity and sanctification of the worldly and all that. 

Sure, some places you only hear a pipe organ; but hey, "traditional" Mass is just as good as "contemporary" Mass.  There's room for everyone's preferences.  Isn't there?

My first collision with this came when I attended the late Sunday evening Mass at my old parish not long after they'd instituted a "contemporary worship style."  Perhaps I would have been less discomfited by the Christian rock band if it hadn't been Palm Sunday.  Don't get me wrong, I like rock music.  Good rock music, that is.  Which is one reason why I've never liked Christian rock much:  not very good Christianity, not very good rock.  But especially today, the combination was sour: the cymbals and electric guitars and over-the-top vocals clashed with the story of the Lord's Passion we'd just heard. The lyrics didn't have anything to do with Passion Sunday, either---just some religious-sounding words, transcending nothing, ordinary and ever-mediocre pop.

On the bright side, remaining in the pews probably qualified as mortification of the flesh.

I learned only later that the Church has a history of specifying which styles of music, indeed which instruments, are appropriate for Mass.  The most recent significant document on the subject seems to be "Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy," or Sacrosanctum Concilium, starting at paragraph 112. 

Turns out that only the pipe organ is given the blessing of the whole Church, and the local bishop is empowered to decide what other instruments are appropriate or inappropriate for Mass:

120. In the Latin Church the pipe organ is to be held in high esteem, for it is the traditional musical instrument which adds a wonderful splendor to the Church's ceremonies and powerfully lifts up man's mind to God and to higher things.

But other instruments also may be admitted for use in divine worship, with the knowledge and consent of the competent territorial authority, as laid down in Art. 22, 52, 37, and 40. This may be done, however, only on condition that the instruments are suitable, or can be made suitable, for sacred use, accord with the dignity of the temple, and truly contribute to the edification of the faithful.

Traditional music of various cultures throughout the world is permitted and to be encouraged, but only where it meets certain requirements:

112. ...[S]acred music is to be considered the more holy in proportion as it is more closely connected with the liturgical action, whether it adds delight to prayer, fosters unity of minds, or confers greater solemnity upon the sacred rites. But the Church approves of all forms of true art having the needed qualities, and admits them into divine worship.

119. In certain parts of the world, especially mission lands, there are peoples who have their own musical traditions, and these play a great part in their religious and social life. For this reason due importance is to be attached to their music, and a suitable place is to be given to it, not only in forming their attitude toward religion, but also in adapting worship to their native genius, as indicated in Art. 39 and 40.

Therefore, when missionaries are being given training in music, every effort should be made to see that they become competent in promoting the traditional music of these peoples, both in schools and in sacred services, as far as may be practicable.

What are the "needed qualities?"  For that we turn to St. Pius X, mentioned in SC as an example of one who "explained... the ministerial function " of sacred music.  In 1903 he wrote "On the Restoration of Sacred Music," Tra le Sollecitudini.  This document is full of specific references to specific instruments.  The piano is forbidden, as are "noisy or frivolous" instruments like cymbals, and "bands."  But he also outlined general principles to follow in the selection of music and instruments.  These principles probably still stand, even if the changing culture has altered their application to specific instruments.

As I read these documents, I'm coming to agree that much---not necessarily all, but much---contemporary liturgy has departed from the principles that make sacred music sacred.  It lacks transcendence and has devolved to simple entertainment.  It lacks universality and has become instead a hodgepodge of different flavors.

At the same time I'm sad, because---well---I like a lot of that music.   I can think of many songs I love, some that I'm sure helped me develop as a Christian.  And the idea of banning them from the liturgy seems insane. 

Till I ask myself, well, why do I need them in the liturgy? 

And the answer is only:  Because I won't be able to hear them anywhere else.  So that leads to the question:  Why not?

Maybe the problem is that a whole class of lovely songs have been culturally restricted to church.   Why do we have to go to Mass to hear this kind of stuff?  Why don't I have cds that I play at home, for instance? 

Maybe those songs, with worldly style and holy message, belong in the world calling the people to the Church.  Maybe they don't belong in the church, recalling us to the world.

And let's be honest.  There are a lot of songs in the same hymnal that I positively detest.  I really really really really hate "On Eagle's Wings,"  (warning: link plays sound) a.k.a. "On Beagle's Breath," a.k.a. (from its first two syllables) "the yoo-hoo song."  I hate even more, to the point where I feel ill when I hear it, this horrid song called "I Danced In The Morning" (warning:  link plays sound) that everyone seems to call "Lord of the Dance" and that has ruined the tune "Shaker Song" for me. 

And yet both of those songs were very popular at my old parish.   I resented being trapped in the pews every time they were played, of course, but most people liked them.

Which brings me to another point.  How contemporary music affects you is largely a matter of taste.  OK, so "I Danced In The Morning" doesn't appeal to me.  I could pretend "It's just because the imagery in it is not appropriate for Mass," but frankly anyone else could say the same thing about some of the modern songs that I happen to like.  In Mass itself, in this Universal Church,
perhaps we should be going for something that transcends personal taste. 

I don't know if it's possible for there to be a truly universal liturgical music. I guess we have to ask what the purpose of music in the Mass is.

Putting aside for a moment the fact that there are documents giving guidelines about
music style, let's pretend that it is our job to design the music for Mass for the church throughout the world:  choose the instruments, the styles, etc.  What would our guiding principles be?

We can argue back and forth about whether music should be consistent from place to place or reflect the local culture. But until we go back to guiding principles that will be nothing more than the "argument from taste."  Some folks'd never praise with drums, but then again some folk'll...

Questions to ponder.

- Why does the liturgy have music at all?  What elements would be missing without it?

- Is the music supposed to help us *feel* something?

- Is the music supposed to make us, or draw us to, *do* something?

- Is the music supposed to help us *think* something?

- Is there some music that will affect all of us, or at least those of us who don't have some kind of pathological association with it, essentially the same way?

- How is liturgical music analogous to, say, liturgical art (stained glass windows, statuary, altarpieces, etc.)

- If someone suddenly invented a new kind of musical instrument never heard before, that had no associations with any kind of profane or secular culture, what characteristics would it have that would make it instantly appropriate for Mass?  (Would it be appropriate by default, because of its "purity" of connotation?  If not, why?)

"I cooked. You clean." part 3

Part 3 in a series comparing cooking to cleaning.

So why can't I arrange a cleaned-up house and present it to my family (and myself) with as much satisfaction as I would present, say, a pan of brownies baked from scratch with best-quality chocolate and real butter and real buttercream frosting?  I made those brownies for Mark's birthday cake on Tuesday, and it was a fair amount of work, and I suffered from a terrible sugar buzz from licking the mixer paddle, too. 

First of all, the house isn't really analogous to a single dish, especially not something special-occasion like brownies.  It's more like our family's overall diet.  Which isn't entirely made up of dishes that I have fun cooking.   

Breakfast in our house is often a solo affair.  Mark pours himself some cold cereal most mornings, while I scramble some eggs for myself.  The kids get cold cereal or peanut butter toast or oatmeal or eggs, whatever I feel like putting together for them when they get up, usually an hour or so after I've eaten.   And lunch is usually leftovers from dinner or else it's sandwiches.  It's not very exciting, but it's generally healthful. 

And that's what a clean house is:  day after day, not very exciting, generally healthful.

Back to the diet.  On the whole, reasonably enjoyable, healthful, unexciting.  Break it down into individual meals, however, and the picture is different.  Ordinary, good food most of the time.  But there is a good deal of variety in every week:  some chicken, some beef, at least one vegetarian dinner, fish twice.  And a lot of different vegetables, too, changing with the seasons.

So break down the housecleaning to individual rooms, individual tasks.  Some stuff people notice right away, like a freshly mopped and sparkling floor, or polished silverware, or the kitchen when I clear the countertops and wipe them all down from top to bottom with hot soapy water.  That's more like a nice dinner, not a particularly special one but a well-executed one, like black-bean enchiladas.  I don't do these things often, and it's pleasurable to see the results. 

On the other hand, some work is barely noticed until it doesn't get done---then we all suffer.  Like laundry.  Nobody ever says, "Wow, that's great laundry.  I love the way you folded my pants."  But we do say, "Damn it, I have to leave in ten minutes and all my pants are wadded up wet in the dryer."  It's kind of like oatmeal.  Not very exciting.  But if there isn't anything to eat for breakfast, some oatmeal sounds pretty good.

And even oatmeal can be taken to the next level.  There's oatmeal soaked overnight to make it extra creamy and, in the morning, simmered in fresh milk with a pat of butter melting on the top, chopped walnuts and raisins stirred in, and a pitcher of warm maple syrup on the side. 

What's the next level in housecleaning?  Fresh flowers in a vase?  Maybe.  Depends on the room, probably.

I start planning meals by constructing a sort of bare-bones foundation (beef.  green vegetable.  yellow vegetable.  salad.) and then I work backwards from the presentation, the details that make it special (dried cherries in the salad.  that lovely zinfandel.) to the recipes.  Maybe I should approach housekeeping tasks by thinking of the finishing details first.

<draws blank>

OK, fine.  Today I have to put away two baskets of clean laundry.  (Other stuff too, but let's take that to start.) 

Prerequisite:  Make bed, in order to have surface on which to sort laundry.

Minimum requirement (cold cereal):  Laundry exits basket, winds up in correct drawers and/or hangers.

Improvement (hot-water oatmeal with sugar):  Clothes are actually folded into drawers and/or hung on hangers reasonably neatly.

Well-executed (creamy oatmeal with pitcher of syrup):  Several options.  I pick dresser tops are cleared off and smart-looking.

I wonder how much more time it will take me to do this then simply stuffing the clothes into the drawers.