Picky (Grown Up) Eaters, Saying No, Reading Books, and To Bury or Not To Bury
Weekly Notes
Three years ago today, you helped save my sanity. Or, at least, 67 of you did. On that day, I went on Instagram and announced that I could no longer continue doing what I had been doing for the past 17 years, and that I wanted to try something new.
Toby had just turned three the day before. Becket had turned one the week before. And Ellie was a few days shy of four-months-old. I was deliriously happy to be their mom. But I was also completely overwhelmed and exhausted. Meeting deadlines—as both a ghostwriter and freelancer—had become impossible. I just couldn’t do it anymore. But my family still needed the extra income, and I still needed to write. I believed God had made me to be both a mother and a writer, and I wanted to find a way I could be both in a way that served, rather than stressed, my family. So, I decided I was going to start a Substack. I had no idea if anyone would subscribe. All I was promising was one thoughtful essay a month. But I hoped and prayed that was enough.
And for 67 of you, it was. You signed up immediately, that day, essays unseen. By the time I wrote my first actual newsletter, a month later, 257 of you had signed up. Most of you are still here. And I am so grateful. I am grateful to you for trusting me enough to sign up for this newsletter before it even existed. I am grateful to you for helping me believe that I could find a way to both write and be with my babies. And I am grateful for the bills you helped us to pay that first month—bills I truly didn’t know how we would pay when the month began.
Three years later, there are over 10,000 of you following along weekly, as I try my best to answer your questions about the Catholic Faith. I’m grateful you’re here, too. I’m grateful that my words get to be a part of your day and that you give some of your precious time to this newsletter. I hope what I write is helpful. I also want to invite you to join the other full subscribers, and receive all the content I provide here.
10,000 is a big number, but only a tiny sliver of those 10,000 are full subscribers. Most of you are here for the free content. Which I get. There’s so much good writing out there, and it’s just not possible to support everyone who is providing it. Plus groceries cost about 8 billion dollars a week. But if you are able to upgrade to become a full subscriber, I hope you do. It’s this newsletter’s full subscribers, as much as me, that you have to thank for this newsletter. Without my full subscribers, not one of the 128 essays and Q&As that I’ve published over the past three years would have been written. Full subscribers really do make the work I’m doing here possible. And I want to keep doing this work. I want to be able to do more here, not less.
So, if you are a full subscriber, thank you. Thank you for believing this work important enough to support and helping me to be faithful to both the vocations God has entrusted to me.
And if you’re not yet a full subscriber (or let you subscription lapse during these busy summer months), please consider upgrading today.
Thank you. And now, for our regularly scheduled programming.
Question Box
Should the Bone Church bones be buried?
For those who aren’t quite sure what this question means, the Bone Church is a series of six chapels constructed beneath Santa Maria della Concezione, a Cappuchin church in Rome. The chapels were constructed centuries ago, out of the bones of long dead monks. Within them, skulls, femurs, and pelvises are piled six feet high to form pillars and archways, altars and walls, while other bones are artfully arranged to form chandeliers and ceiling medallions. Intact skeletons also fill the chapels. Some are lying in perpetual positions of repose, while others seemingly stand to attention, wearing the religious habits they wore in life.
The chapels strike some people as macabre, horrific, the stuff of nightmares. But the intention of the unknown architect who first constructed the Bone Church and the Cappuchin friars who have carefully maintained it through the centuries has never been to put on a horror show for the gaping public. Rather, the use of the bones within the chapels is meant to serve as a reminder of two fundamental truths.
First, it is a reminder of our own mortality. That message is made clear in a sign posted near the chapel’s entrance. It reads: “What you are now, we used to be; What we are now, you will be.”
The second reminder comes in the last of the six chapels, where a painting of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead hangs above an altar. It is there to remind visitors that we are not ultimately destined to be a pile of bones. We’re destined for resurrection. We’re destined to be reunited with our bodies at the end of all days and spend life everlasting as a union of body and soul.
I’ve been blessed to visit the Bone Church twice, once in 2012 and once again this past summer. I also have written quite a bit about it in my book, These Beautiful Bones: An Everyday Theology of the Body (a title that was inspired by the Bone Church). Both times, I was overwhelmed by the church’s beauty and by its reverence for the human body. In it, there is an implicit recognition of the truth that every human body is a temple—that every baptized Christian, in a state of grace, is a sacred dwelling place, where the life of God abides. There also is a recognition that the path to redemption, the path to resurrection, is a path that cannot be walked without the body. Our sanctification, after all, is not the work of a moment. It’s the work of a lifetime—a lifetime of praying and working and loving and suffering and receiving grace, all in the bodies that are us. Our bodies—our funny, weak, aging, beautiful bodies—become holy as our souls become holy. They make the journey to wholeness, to life, together.
All of which is to say, no, I don’t think the bones in the Bone Church should be buried. We bury bodies as an act of reverence and respect. The bodies in the Bone Church are being shown that same reverence and respect, just in a different way. In 1 Peter 2:5, we are told that each of us is like a “living stone,” lovingly used by Christ to build His Church. The Bone Church takes that truth to another level. There, those monks’ bodies are in fact, what we are only in figure. Their bodies have become actual stones giving shape to an actual church. It’s a beautiful thing, and as I told Chris after leaving the Bone Church last month, I would much prefer to have my bones shaped into a candelabra after I die and hung up in the Bone Church alongside those holy monks, than buried underground. It seems to me to be a glorious way to await the Resurrection, and my guess is that those long departed Capuchins feel the same.
You’ve mentioned before that pickiness is a form of gluttony. Can you explain that?
Of course! Let’s start by defining gluttony, which is classified by the Church as one of the seven “deadly” or “capital” sins. This means that it’s a sin which inevitably leads to other sins. Gluttony in particular is a vicious form of self-love that leads us to give undue deference to the body’s natural appetites. We make a god of our stomach, and put satisfying it above kindness, charity, consideration for others, and the moral imperative to provide for the poor.
Usually, when we think of gluttony, we think of overeating, which is indeed a form of gluttony. But it’s not the only form. According to Saint Gregory the Great and Saint Thomas Aquinas, there are five ways we can commit the sin of gluttony. To be a glutton, they write, is to eat “hastily, sumptuously, too much, greedily, daintily.”[i]
In other words, we commit the sin of gluttony when we eat thoughtlessly, quickly, and without appreciation (hastily); when we regularly or exclusively dine on only the most expensive and richest foods (sumptuously); when we overeat (too much); when we take more than our fair share of food (greedily); and when we are picky, insisting upon eating only certain foods or refusing foods that are not grown, prepared, or served in very specific ways (daintily).
It’s easy to see how being greedy or overeating is a form of gluttony, but how pickiness fits in is not always so clear. In The Screwtape Letters, however, C.S. Lewis does a fantastic job of illustrating how “dainty” or picky eating can become corrosive to the human soul. There, he writes about a woman who is always refusing food that is offered to her and demanding smaller portions, weaker tea, and toast cooked “just so.” She doesn’t think of herself as a glutton. She isn’t eating large quantities of food. But, as Lewis notes, the devil cares far less about quantities than he does about using “a human belly and palate to produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern” (Letter XVI).
Lewis continues in that same letter:
She is a positive terror to hostesses and servants...[But] because what she wants is smaller and less costly than what has been set before her, she never recognizes as gluttony her determination to get what she wants, however troublesome it may be to others.
Before I go any further, let me make some qualifications.
When it comes to food, just about everyone has preferences. We all like some foods more than others. We all have foods we don’t really care for at all. That is not a problem. That is normal. It’s human. And if you never cook beets or serve shrimp at your own table, you’re not guilty of gluttony.
You’re also not guilty of gluttony if you have food allergies or debilitating sensitivities. My sister has Celiac Disease. Peanuts make me stop breathing. Both of us need to let people who are cooking for us know that. And that’s not pickiness. It’s kindness. No one wants me dropping dead at their dinner party because a peanut sauce was on the menu.
Likewise, very small children, below the age of reason, who refuse to eat anything besides jelly sandwiches and macaroni and cheese are not sinning against their parents. They are going through a normal stage of human development, one which parents have to both endure and do our best to help them pass through.
Last but not least, people with true food aversions—where one bite of foods with certain textures make them physically ill—are not gluttons. They are carrying a cross, albeit one that can sometimes be helped to some degree with eating therapy.
Where sin comes in is when we are willfully and consciously overly particular—with a long list of foods we refuse to eat wherever we go—and structure our lives around that particularity, expecting everyone else who ever cooks for us to cater to our particularity as well. When we do that, we make an idol of our appetites and preferences. Our likes and dislikes become our god, and others—those cooking for us, serving us, or shopping for us—must worship at the same altar.
Sin also comes in when we are rude and ungrateful for what someone has made for us—refusing to eat something we don’t like, making comments about it, or making a show of our dislike. To do that is to fail in charity. We are failing to adequately appreciate the gift others make of themselves in cooking for us and serving us.
Again, this does not mean you have to eat beets every time they are served at a dinner party. But you can quietly pass them up and eat everything else with gratitude and appreciation. It also does not mean you can’t mention to your spouse that lentils are not your favorite. But if she forgets and serves them for dinner on Wednesday night, you can still smile and eat the plate that’s put before you without making a fuss or acting like a four-year-old. Eating foods that aren’t your favorite, trying new things when they are served to you, and saying thank you to whoever has cooked for you is just what grown ups do. It’s also what Christians are supposed to do. It’s recognizing that people are more important than our bellies, that our preferences are not the most important thing in life, that all food is a gift from God, and that everything—even beet tainted meals—can be offered up to Christ.
Of course, there are lots of things that Christians are supposed to do, but which many of us fail to do just the same. Mostly because it’s hard. For a lot of people, eating what they’re served can be one of those hard things. Overcoming habits of picky eating is not always as simple as waking up and deciding to eat your peas without complaint. The roots of pickiness or particularity often have nothing to do with food and everything to do with issues of control or fear or childhood struggles. Accordingly, overcoming picky eating can sometimes require discerning those root causes and seeking a deeper kind of healing. It might take some time before you can learn to try new foods, eat your less than favorite foods, and consistently express gratitude for what you’re served. But that work is worth doing—if only for the whole smorgasbord of delicious foods that open up to you when you do it.
How do you balance being involved in all the Catholic things and still be present to your family?
By not being involved in all the Catholic things. I am not a Catholic celebrity. I am not the person speaking onstage at Eucharistic Congresses. I don’t sit on any boards, attend fancy gala dinners, or appear regularly (or really ever anymore) on EWTN. I write a little newsletter, host a little podcast, write a book or two a year, and post on Instagram as time allows. I might do one interview with a radio show or podcast a month. I work for a few hours every day, but the bulk of my time is spent reading books to my children; settling squabbles between siblings; chasing chickens off my porch; slapping paint samples on walls; picking up random green army guys and baby dolls from the floor; switching over laundry; cooking for family and friends; and cleaning my kitchen. This is exactly how I like it.
Four years ago, when Becket was born, I bowed out of the Catholic speaking circuit. Three years ago, when Ellie was born, I bowed out of writing for Catholic magazines and newspapers. I did this because I didn’t want to travel and I couldn’t meet an endless series of deadlines. I couldn’t do all the Catholic things and be present. So, I didn’t try. Chris and I got creative and discerned ways for me to do the primary things we believed God was calling me to do—mother and write. But that has meant saying no to lots of other things, things that aren’t essential IN THIS SEASON to my vocations of wife, mother, and writer.
I stress “in this season,” because seasons change. Babies come, and children grow. Some doors shut, and others open. Barring unforeseen tragedies, life is long and different work is possible in different seasons. Everything does not have to be done right now. Lots of things can wait. And every decision doesn’t have to be forever.
For example, this fall, I am dipping my toe back into speaking and keynoting the Pittsburgh Catholic Women’s Conference. If that isn’t too disruptive to my writing and life with the kids (preparing talks tends to take a lot of time for me), I might start doing a few talks a year again, always with the family in tow. If not, I’ll put speaking back on the shelf. We’re just discerning as we go, taking into account the changing needs of the family and the house and each of the children. But as we discern, what we know absolutely is that I cannot do all the things. Chris can’t either. We both need to make sacrifices to be present to the children and each other, while also doing the work in the world God has called us to do.
Sometimes those sacrifices are easy to make; I am super happy to stay home and not be on the speaking circuit. Sometimes they are harder; I always have more things I want to write and more promoting of existing books that I want to do. But I also know what kind of life Chris and I want to live with our children and what kind of person I want to be. Neither is possible without a whole lot of no’s. I think the same holds true for all of us. None of us can do all the things. We need to prioritize. We need to choose. And we need to trust that God is working through all our good choices and sacrifices to give us more than we ever could attain by saying yes to all the things.
Do you read out loud to your kids? If so, what are your favorite books for that age range?
I do! Reading out loud to my kids is my favorite part of the day and what I enjoy doing most with my kids. I aim to do it twice a day—after lunch and before bedtime–but that seems to happen consistently only during the school year; our summer schedule has been a bit all over the place. When we are sticking to the schedule, though, the bedtime read is quick: three short books max. In the afternoon, though, it might go for an hour. I’ll read a couple of shorter books that Ellie will appreciate, then do a longer chapter book for Toby (and sometimes Becket), while Ellie naps or plays. Toby and I (with varying degrees of attention from Becket) are currently making our way through The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, although progress has slowed down (due to aforementioned semi-chaotic summer schedule). Here is a list of some of our favorite picture books by age range, along with the chapter books that Toby has enjoyed so far:
Ages 1-3 (Board Books)
Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel
Ages 3-6
Brambley Hedge (chapter book—4+)
The Golden Key (chapter book—4+)
The Princess and the Goblin (chapter book—4+)
Beware of Boys
Five Things I’m Loving
Arbonne’s new Derm Solutions Night Cream has been such a good replacement for my beloved Supreme Cream from Beautycounter. It’s super rich, extra hydrating, has only the lightest scent to it, and is in the process of becoming EWG certified (which means it is guaranteed to contain no ingredients that mess up your endocrine system or give you cancer).
If it’s summer (and it is), I’m cooking Smitten Kitchen’s Crispy Chickpeas and Zucchini. One of my all time favorite meals.
I have been waiting for the complete Ignatius Catholic Study Bible for 21 years. Truly! In 2003, when the first volumes were published, I was in grad school and working as Scott Hahn’s assistant. When I saw what they were doing, I started dreaming of the day I could have such a thorough, detailed study Bible all in one volume to rely upon. Little did I know that it would take two decades. But the wait is almost over, and I am chomping at the bit to get my hands on this!
I have a hard time spending money on children’s shoes. They outgrow them so fast! But we did get the boys these Stride Rite Sandals for Italy, and I have been so pleased with them. Both boys wore them daily in Rome (choosing them every time over their Tevas) and walked thousands and thousands of steps daily with nary a blister. Since we returned home, they have continued wearing them every day, and they still look great.
If you’re looking for a good toddler bed for the road, I recommend the JetKids Cloudsleeper. Now that Ellie no longer fits in a pack n play, we needed something for hotels and Air B&B’s, and this has been fantastic. It is super compact, blows up quickly without a pump (you use your hand), and easily fits any one of the kids, including Toby who is tall for a six-year-old. All the kids fight over who gets to sleep on it, so it passes the comfort test ,too.
In Case You Missed It
Money, Money, Money (Free for All Subscribers)
Making Home: On the Redemption of the Ordinary (Full Subscribers Only)
IVF: Questions and Answers (Free for All Subcribers)
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[i] Aquinas, Summa, II-II.148.4
I think you did a good job of explaining the gluttony aspects. I think this sin of "daintiness" further creates a discordance between people. I've heard (and read) people saying "I don't eat at potlucks unless I made it." "I don't like meal trains because you never know what people are going to serve you." and while they sometimes have a good reason (one person's whole office got food poisoning) I would say that it's the exception, not the rule. I think not eating at potlucks creates these divisions and we lose the chance to eat together. We lose the chance to feed one another. I think it's a bit of our humanity stripped away.
I'd also say that I am a paid subscriber and I feel like I'm getting my money's worth. Your writings have brought me to a different level of learning about my faith, and urged me to better and harder readings. So thank you. It's a pleasure to read your essays.
Thank you, Emily! Congratulations on 3 years. :)