The Final Judgement, Chapel Veils, Possibly Inappropriate Sex Advice, Scrupulosity, + More

Weekly Notes

About five minutes after this lands in your inbox, I will be deleting all my social media apps AND my gmail account from my phone, so that I can pretend it’s 2003 for the next two weeks. For most of that time, I’ll be in where the above picture was taken seven years ago, with my family, on pilgrimage. Many of you have sent me prayer requests, which I have written down and will be carrying with me into every church we visit, include the Oratory of Saint Joseph and the Basilica of Saint Anne de Beaupre. Thank you for trusting me with those.

I’ll be back later in June with an essay for full subscribers. If you don’t want to miss that (or cute pictures of beautiful children in sacred spaces), I hope you’ll consider becoming a full subscriber today. As Claire Swinarski has said about her own free newsletters, these letters are free for you to read, but definitely not free for me to write. Each takes considerable time and effort, and it’s the full subscribers who make them possible. If you are benefitting from this project and want others to benefit, too, your support as a full subscriber would be deeply appreciated.

Spe Salvi Study, Week 6

Read: Sections 42-50

Reflection

“Some recent theologians are of the opinion that the fire which both burns and saves is Christ himself, the Judge and Saviour. The encounter with him is the decisive act of judgement. Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves,” (Benedict XVI, 47).

I’m not going to watch Succession. As I told people last week, I spend enough time contemplating the world’s darkness as part of my day job, so one episode of the HBO cult hit was enough for me. Nevertheless, I am fascinated by the show, which just concluded after four phenomenally depressing seasons.

For those who haven’t seen it or (like me) won’t see it, Succession tells the tale of the Roy siblings, all richer than Croesus, warring amongst themselves about who will inherit control of their father’s media empire. Not a one of the siblings is likeable. Each is detestable in their own way. And as they plot and scheme for power, their hard hearts grow harder, perhaps beyond the point of redemption.

In the show’s finale, the siblings’ fight for control becomes a literal one, with a brawl breaking out in a corporate conference room. Faced with losing everything—the company and each other—one brother cries out, “It’s all f-ing nothing, man. We’re nothing.”

That’s nihilism, which is the preferred philosophy of most prestige TV these days. But it’s also like a scene from the Last Judgement. It’s the cry of the damned, of those who reject Christ definitively and see their houses of straw, built on the shifting sand of the world, burned to nothing in the end.

The end of all days is a mystery, one which no mind this side of Heaven can penetrate. But faith tells us that justice and grace—justice and mercy—will be meted out perfectly on that day. No one, not even the damned, will have cause for complaint. God will not be in the dock anymore. We will see the perfection of His justice and His grace. We also will experience it.

When we come before Christ the Judge, the fire of His love will consume us and reveal us. It will hurt to watch all our false gods reduced to ashes. It will hurt to see how much of ourselves we gave to what didn’t matter. It will hurt to have all the pride, all the greed, all the lingering lust, wrath, sloth, gluttony, and envy extracted out of us, like venom from a wound. But for those who have built their lives on Christ, for those who have looked for Him and reached for Him, however imperfectly, the hurt will be sweet. For we will know it brings healing. We will know it shall leave us whole. There will be no hoping at that point, only certain knowledge that the One for whom we longed has hold of us at last and will never let us go.

But for now, we hope. That’s what sets us apart from the Roys. That’s what sets Christians apart from nihilists. We hope. We believe there is more for us than this world can hold and that what awaits us is good. We believe there is meaning to the universe and purpose to our lives. We believe what we do now—each day, each moment—matters eternally. We believe each of us is loved by the Lord of Love. We aren’t nothing; we are more precious than gold. And we believe that, somehow, both justice and mercy will triumph in the end.

Hope isn’t just a belief, though. It’s not mere wishful thinking. Hope is also an action. It’s praying for the living and the dead, trusting that God, who is outside of time, hears every prayer and uses every prayer. It’s living our lives in light of the coming judgement, following God’s law and striving to give our time and our hearts to what will endure. It’s asking for God’s mercy, trusting that all who ask for it will be met with oceans of it.

And it’s continuing to seek God, despite the world’s sins and our own. It’s looking for Him, reaching for Him, stumbling towards Him, knowing that no matter how foolish and imperfect we are, our stumbling matters. God will not deny Himself to those who want Him. All who desire truth, goodness, and beauty will find Him in the end. No one who has lived and acted in hope will end their days with the self-absorbed, defeated cry of the Roys:“We are nothing.”

Rather those who kept stumbling towards God, who persist through sorrow, confusion, disappointment, and sin, will let out a different cry, a joyous shout of self-forgetfulness: “He is everything. Blessed be He.”

So keep stumbling. Keep praying. Hold fast to God’s promises of justice and mercy. Know that even when you can’t see Him, He sees you. And He loves you. Hope in Him. You will not be disappointed.

Reflection Questions

1. What are you building right now that you think will endure the fire of God’s love on Judgement Day? What are you building that you fear will burn away in that fire? What is getting more of your time—that which will endure or that which will become ash?

2. What in your heart needs to be burned away? What can you do now to help Christ start that process today, instead of waiting until the life to come?

3. How have you kept stumbling towards Christ, even in the midst of doubt or sorrow or sin? Why do you keep stumbling towards Him? What difference has that made? How do you see that as an act of hope?

Question Box

What do you really think about chapel veils?

I think they are beautiful, rich with symbolism, and a natural extension of the theology of the body. In other words, if the body expresses the person, the clothes we wear also can and should express the person. Therefore, it’s right and fitting that when we enter a sacred space something about our physical appearance, like what we have on, should change. When we’re in church, chapel veils can be a wonderful signal to our hearts and to the world that where we are is not like other places. I wish the Church still required—or probably better, recommended—that women wear them in sacred spaces.

I wish this because if the Church did recommend that every woman should wear a chapel veil, most of us would be wearing them, and I wouldn’t feel self-conscious every time I put one on my head. I wouldn’t feel like I was drawing attention to myself. I wouldn’t feel like I was making a statement about what “kind of Catholic” I was. And I definitely wouldn’t spend more time in Mass thinking about myself than Jesus. I wouldn’t be wondering what other people thought of me wearing one and why other women weren’t wearing one, nor would I be spending the whole of Mass fighting temptations to pride—to thinking myself more pious or feminine or authentically Catholic than the women who didn’t wear chapel veils. Which is what used to happen at every single Mass during the years I wore a chapel veil, and why I finally stopped wearing one.

If the Church ever goes back to requiring chapel veils, all those temptations will be rendered moot. It will be a simple question of obedience. For now, though, it remains a personal preference for each of us. Although the 1917 code of Canon Law required women cover their heads in church, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith issued a document in the 1970s called Inter Insigniores, which stated that head coverings were a discipline associated with cultural customs, not a matter of faith, and therefore not necessary for Catholic women. The requirement was then removed from the new Code of Canon Law issued in 1983. That same new code also explicitly stated that any laws from the old code not reissued in the new code were abrogated (Canon 6).

Just because veils aren’t required, though, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wear one. If wearing a chapel veil helps you feel more reverent, prayerful, and focused during Mass, you should totally wear one. If it’s helping you enter more deeply into the mystery and drawing you closer to Christ, then the chapel veil is doing what it’s supposed to do, and that is awesome. If, however, you are tempted to some of the same sins I was, and wearing a chapel veil just aggravates your struggle with vanity and pride or becomes more of a statement about what “kind of Catholic” you are than an aid to prayer, you should probably skip it.

Back in the fall of 2021, I wrote a whole essay for full subscribers about this kind of spiritual discernment and how each of us needs to be attuned to how veiling and other optional disciplines and practices might be tempting us to sin. It’s unlocked and free for all, so you can read it here.

How can I make hospitality a regular part of our family life without spending a lot of extra money?

First, you need to remember what hospitality is—a biblical command to welcome others into your life and home, where you can honor them as the image of God. Hospitality has nothing to do with elaborate menus, fancy table settings, or curated décor. It’s not about impressing people; it’s about loving people. And loving people doesn’t have to be expensive…although it is generally costly in a whole different way.

That being said, to keep monetary costs low don’t worry about inviting large groups of people over. Start with one person—single friends and co-workers, a widowed neighbor, or divorced family member. When I was single, I got left out of so many activities, so invitations to eat with families meant the world to me.

If you want to host more than one person, invite one or two families over for dinner and keep it simple. A pot of soup is always inexpensive and can feed a crowd. I included many of my favorite soup recipes in the cookbook I wrote for our adoption fundraisers, Around the Catholic Table, so if you have that, pick out one that sounds good and cook up a big pot of it. Buy some bread, bake some cookies, ask your guests to bring salad or wine, and you will be able to host an excellent dinner for multiple families that costs you less than $20-$30.

It also is important to remember that hosting people doesn’t have to involve dinner. You can have a Sunday brunch where you serve pancakes or eggs and friends bring other dishes. Or you can host an afternoon dessert party, where everyone brings a favorite sweet. Or just invite a few friends for wine, beer, and chips on a Friday evening.

When I was in my early 20s, my roommate and I would throw “poverty parties,” where everyone had to bring something to eat that cost them less than $5. Yes, that mostly meant chips, cookies, and hummus with crackers, but it kept hosting simple, and we had the best time. Which is ultimately what counts. I love cooking good food and eating good food. Cooking for others is a way of life in our family. But still, the food is not the point. The people are the point. And if you are joyful, welcoming, and attentive to your guests, that’s what they’ll remember the most: you and your love. The food is truly secondary.

What do you think about a husband using a vibrator to help his wife?

I think, “When did I become the Catholic sex advice lady?”

In all seriousness, there are no authoritative Church documents that go into that kind of detail about what goes on in the bedroom between a man and his wife. The Church gives a whole lot of principles to guide marital intimacy, then expects us to apply those to our individual situations. Maybe it would be better if she were more specific. Maybe not. Either way, because vibrators are not explicitly forbidden to married couples, you will hear some Catholic moral theologians say they’re fine when used in the context of the complete marital act. You will hear other Catholic theologians say that they are contrary to the dignity of the human person and just because they aren’t explicitly forbidden doesn’t mean they should be welcomed into your marriage. I agree with those in the latter camp.

For many women, vibrators can become addictive, a temptation to masturbation, and make it impossible to climax by any other means. Which is to say, they can be a near occasion for sin, if not an actual sin, and an impediment to deeper marital intimacy. The use of them also reflects the current cultural notion that orgasms are the point of sex, which they’re not. The point of sex is procreation and communion, and as important as it is for women to enjoy sex, both procreation and communion can be achieved without a female orgasm every single time. Prioritizing the lesser good and chasing it in an artificial, mechanized way, can entrench us in the blindness of our culture and lead us to miss the deep meaning and beauty of marital intimacy.

So, I would encourage couples who are using vibrators to consider the dangers of mechanizing and depersonalizing their sex life and depriving the husband of the opportunity to really learn his wife’s body more fully and love her more intimately. Unlearning habits like climaxing with the help of a vibrator can take time, just like unlearning climaxing to pornography and masturbation can take time. But taking that time, with your husband, will only enrich your sex life in the long run.

(And if you’re in a place of wondering if the wife’s enjoyment of marital relations is important, here is an excellent article by the moral theologian E. Christian Brugger, which I shared in the last Insta Q&A I did and which addresses that question beautifully.)

Can you recommend any books for someone struggling with scrupulosity?

Scrupulosity, like most spiritual struggles, is often rooted in a defective understanding of who God is, how He loves us, and what He asks of us. Scrupulosity in particular is connected to a deficient understanding of God’s mercy and the nature of sin. The scrupulous tend to see the justice of God, but not the mercy of God. They also often tend to see things as sinful which aren’t in fact sinful (or they conflate venial sins with mortal sins).

A couple years ago, The National Catholic Register published an excellent (and short) essay on how to overcome a scrupulous conscience. It’s worth reading if you or someone you love struggles with scrupulosity. A good priest, spiritual director, and therapist also can be helpful for those whose scrupulosity is severe.

Two decades ago, when I was newly returned to the Church and still recovering from anorexia, scrupulosity was a serious struggle for me. I would go to Confession sometimes daily and confess the same sins I’d confessed the day before because I didn’t think I had been sufficiently sorry for them. It was bad. Three things helped me. First, was the advice of a good friend who effectively banned me from going to Confession more than once a month unless I’d committed a mortal sin. Second, was growing in my understanding of sin, particularly recognizing that things I couldn’t control—feelings, emotions, fleeting thoughts—were not sins. Sins have to involve freely chosen action—whether that action is nurturing and indulging a sinful thought or choosing to act on a sinful thought or feeling. Third was growing in my understanding of God’s mercy.

The most powerful thing that helped me with that was reading Jesus’ revelations to Saint Faustina in the Diary of Divine Mercy and praying the devotion which came through those revelations: the chaplet of Divine Mercy. I don’t know if that would be good for everyone, but it was so good for me. The more I came to understand the infinite of mercy of Christ, the more I learned to rest in His love. I hope and pray you can eventually do that, too.

How, specifically, do we pray for the dead?

Since the earliest days of the Church, Christians have prayed for the dead. First century Roman catacombs are covered with both prayers for the dead and requests for prayers from the dead. Second century Church Fathers, including Tertullian, wrote about Christians praying for the dead. And third century accounts of the martyrs, such as that of Saints Perpetua and Felicity, recall the soon to be martyrs praying for their own departed loved ones. In both East and West, among Orthodox and Catholics, the practice is universal and always has been.

Biblically, the basis for this practice is found in 2 Maccabees 12:39-48 (when Judas Maccabeus offers prayers and sacrifices for soldiers who died in sin) and 2 Timothy 1:16-18 (when Saint Paul asks God to have mercy on the departed Onesiph'orus). Theologically, the practice is rooted in the simple recognition that God is outside of time. If He can apply the graces of our prayers and sacrifices to the living, He can do the same with the dead. He’s not bound by chronos—man’s time. So, the prayers we say today, the Masses we offer today, the alms we give today, and the penances we do today, can be as efficacious for those who have left this life as they are for those still here.

In terms of “how” we pray for the dead, it doesn’t have to look all that different than how we pray for the living. Like Paul in 2 Timothy, we can utter a simple, “Lord, have mercy on their soul,” or “Lord, welcome my loved one into your kingdom.” We also can give alms in memory of someone, fast in memory of someone, offer up our own suffering in memory of someone, or pray a Rosary, Our Father, or any prayer in memory of someone.

If you want to be more formal about it, you can say the Church’s simple traditional prayer for the dead: Eternal rest grant unto him (her) O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon him (her). May the soul of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen. This can be said after meals, before meals, when driving through a cemetery, when learning of someone’s death, or just anytime a person comes to mind.

The best and most efficacious prayer for the dead (and the living), however, is the Mass. Writing in the sixth century, Pope Saint Gregory the Great noted that:

The holy Sacrifice of Christ, our saving Victim, brings great benefits to souls even after death, provided their sins can be pardoned in the life to come. For this reason the souls of the dead sometimes beg to have Masses offered for them.

To have a Mass said for someone, you can request one at your local parish or do it online with a religious order. Chris and I have Masses said monthly for the living and the dead. We typically arrange these Masses through the Seraphic Mass Association, the Catholic Near East Welfare Association, or the Divine Word Missionaries, but just about any religious order will be happy to take Mass requests.

It’s typical to give a small, free will donation for each Mass you request, which is always a huge help to the order, but it’s not required. Masses are not something for which you can pay. We happily consider this gift part of our tithe, though, and love this little family apostolate of ours. It’s a powerful and concrete way to honor our promises to pray for others, and we have great faith that these prayers never go to waste.

To read more about the theology and practice of praying for the dead, I recommend the book I wrote with Scott Hahn in 2020, Hope to Die: The Christian Meaning of Death and the Resurrection of the Body.

Things I’m Loving

1. The news that a Latin Mass loving, Black American Benedictine nun who no one has ever heard of was recently found to be incorruptible. Sister Wilhemina and her story make me so happy on so many levels. The best reporting I’ve seen on this comes from my friends at The Pillar. You can read J.D.’s Magnum Opus or just listen to this week’s podcast. Also, if you’re going to choose one other Substack besides mine to give $6 a month to, it should be The Pillar. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, if there is anything a decade of writing for Catholic newspapers taught me, it’s that there is a deep need for independent Catholic reporting in this country. The Pillar is doing it, and I am grateful for them (even when I disagree with them).

2. If you like Agatha Christie and witty, campy, tongue-in-cheek mysteries set in mid-twentieth century London, carve out some time to watch See How They Run this weekend. The character development isn’t the world’s greatest, but it stars Sam Rockwell and Saoirse Ronan, and involves murder, Agatha Christie’s play The Mousetrap, and Richard Attenborough, so it’s better than almost everything else new to streaming right now.

3. I’ve been tinkering with a homemade granola recipe for the past year and have finally got it to the point of perfection (for me, at least). I linked it this morning at the old blog.

4. Vacation! I’m out of here for a full two weeks, friends. Please keep my family in your prayers while we’re gone. You’ll definitely be in ours.

Remember, this is a free post, so you can link it and share it anywhere you like! And I am so grateful when you do!

In Case You Missed It

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The Greatest and the Least: The Eucharist, the Lord, and the Liturgy Wars (Full Subscribers Only)

The Deep Work of Homemaking: On acknowledging the difference between house work and heart work (Full Subscribers Only)