No wonder the American nuns are having a fit about the Vatican visitations.
An excellent article by Steve Skojec describing what appears to be a couple of post Vatican II feminists (could be nuns) who are clearly quite out-of-place in a truly Catholic Church.
This past Sunday, as I attempted to get my wriggling, squeaking, squirming children settled in our pew for what usually amounts to a liturgical rodeo -- see if you can keep them on their best behavior for eight seconds without getting thrown out of the church -- I noticed the arrival of two women in their sixties who clearly looked like they did not belong. Processing up the aisle in search of a seat, they were dressed very casually, with the short-cropped, boyish, almost intentionally unattractive hairstyles that seem to be de rigeur for the aging members of America's post-feminism movement. They stood out in a sea of suits, ties, dresses, and chapel veils.
Far be it from me to judge based solely on appearances, of course: I may be a Trad, but when I know I'm going to be wrestling with toddlers for the duration of an hour-and-a-quarter-long Mass in the heat of the summer, I'm the first to arrive in a polo shirt instead of an oxford. Even so, sometimes it's just true: "By their fashions you will know them."
This daring duo of anti-patriarchalism might have been guests in from out of town and staying in the hotel across the street, unaware that the 9 a.m. Mass at this particular parish is, in fact, a throwback to the glory days of Catholicism, before the option existed to replace all the masculine pronouns for God in the liturgy with gender-inclusive ones. Might have been, I say, but for the fact that they gave themselves away with their refusal to kneel during such unimportant moments of the Mass as, say, the consecration. They stood like Amazon warrior priestesses at attention, forming a phalanx to defend the rear guard of fruit-loopy Catholicism's last hoorah.
An excellent article by Steve Skojec describing what appears to be a couple of post Vatican II feminists (could be nuns) who are clearly quite out-of-place in a truly Catholic Church.
This past Sunday, as I attempted to get my wriggling, squeaking, squirming children settled in our pew for what usually amounts to a liturgical rodeo -- see if you can keep them on their best behavior for eight seconds without getting thrown out of the church -- I noticed the arrival of two women in their sixties who clearly looked like they did not belong. Processing up the aisle in search of a seat, they were dressed very casually, with the short-cropped, boyish, almost intentionally unattractive hairstyles that seem to be de rigeur for the aging members of America's post-feminism movement. They stood out in a sea of suits, ties, dresses, and chapel veils.
Far be it from me to judge based solely on appearances, of course: I may be a Trad, but when I know I'm going to be wrestling with toddlers for the duration of an hour-and-a-quarter-long Mass in the heat of the summer, I'm the first to arrive in a polo shirt instead of an oxford. Even so, sometimes it's just true: "By their fashions you will know them."
This daring duo of anti-patriarchalism might have been guests in from out of town and staying in the hotel across the street, unaware that the 9 a.m. Mass at this particular parish is, in fact, a throwback to the glory days of Catholicism, before the option existed to replace all the masculine pronouns for God in the liturgy with gender-inclusive ones. Might have been, I say, but for the fact that they gave themselves away with their refusal to kneel during such unimportant moments of the Mass as, say, the consecration. They stood like Amazon warrior priestesses at attention, forming a phalanx to defend the rear guard of fruit-loopy Catholicism's last hoorah.
No comments:
Post a Comment