THE IMPORTANCE OF THE DOMESTIC CHURCH

The statue of our Blessed Mother Mary that looks down upon me

when I am seated in my customary chair in the living room

For the last two weeks or so, I have been ill with a stomach bug, and I have spent more time in my recliner chair.  Being disabled, I spend quite a bit of time in it anyway, but I sort of poured myself into it a couple weeks ago when I first came down with the stomach flu and haven't budged much ever since.  In fact, one night I slept the whole night here.  On many other nights, I spent at least 3 hours sleeping in it.

When I awake from one of these naps, or when I look up from my crochet project, my computer, or my reading, my living room shrine, with its candles and icons and statue, are immediately in my line of sight and invites my contemplation.

The prayer corner in my living room

Drawing inspiration and encouragement from Jesus, Mary and the Saints, I often respond with a short prayer before I move on to my next task.  Having the Lord always in my line of sight is a reminder that He is always with me.  My guardian angel is always with me.  The saints are available to me and are ready to intercede for me.  I am not alone.

Speaking as a woman who has lived "alone" for more than a dozen years, it means a lot to be able to say that I am not actually alone, and this is part of what my Catholic faith has done for me.  The awareness that I am part of the body of Christ and that there is an awesome host of beings accompanying me through life is both stunning and soothing at the same time.  I have only to remind myself of this by gazing at the numerous signs placed around my apartment hermitage.

My living room prayer corner

Despite my numerous discomforts, I feel a welling up of joyful gratitude for everything the Lord has given and has promised me and every other Christian who follows Him.  Contemplating the icons, crosses and crucifixes throughout the house gives me fresh incentive every day to praise Him and glorify Him in all my thoughts, words and deeds.  As my eye falls upon the picture of Him, I tune into the feeling of His presence within me.  When I am washing dishes or cleaning the bathroom, I am doing it for Him.  I feel that, having mentally consecrated this house to him and his worship, everything I do, I do for Him.

Little picture of Jesus on the bedside table

On those mornings when I wake in my bed instead of my recliner, I am likewise greeted by a host of icons, and I am moved to say, "Glory to Jesus Christ!"

Part of my bedroom prayer corner

Just as in the living room, my eyes rest upon Jesus, Our Blessed Mother, saints and angels, wherever I look in this room.

The other wall of the prayer corner

Images of the Blessed Mother on another

bedroom wall

In addition, I keep Holy Water available in two fonts; one at the front door and one in my bedroom.  I used to have a third, but I gave it to a visiting Catholic who didn't have one at home and whom I thought would like it for himself and his family.

Holy Water font in the living room by

the front door

Holy Water font in the bedroom

I try to encourage people in their efforts to spiritualize the atmosphere of their homes because it is especially important to remember that, although our churches are treasured places where Jesus comes to us in a special way through the mass and through his body and blood in the Eucharist, we must carry our faith and the awareness of His presence with us throughout our lives.  Visual cues help us to do this.  They also help us to bear witness to our faith.

Whereas our secular culture is now trying to limit our religious freedom to a mere freedom of worship, which quarantines our faith within the 4 walls of our churches, we need to break out of that prison in which the culture is trying to retain us and bring our faith into the world in a visible way. We know that faith without works is dead and that all the visible signs of faith are pointless without following Christ in every thought, word and deed, but I am suggesting that, while the habit of a nun, monk or priest is a powerful visible signal, our homes can also be a silent witness to every neighbor, relative and friend who visits us while at the same time giving us strength and continual reminders of our companions who travel with us, mostly unseen.

Angels in the bedroom

What I value is not in the slightest bit in question, once someone comes to my home.  I am not advocating that everyone adopt my style of decor, however.  It would be too colorful and busy for many people.  I only suggest that evidence of one's faith be prominently displayed, for all the reasons previously mentioned, and that there be at least one corner devoted to prayer.

Icon of our blessed Mother

at the back door

It goes without saying that, having constant reminders of God scattered about one's house is a good incentive to prayer and contemplation.  Personally, I like to make liberal use of candles and genuine church incense, in honor of the Divine Person to whom I pray.  The fragrance tends to persist for some time after my prayers are finished, reminding me of the constant presence of the Lord.

Give some thought as to whether your home speaks to you and to others about your faith and your values.  Did you decorate with God in mind, or do you take your cues entirely from some style of design one might find in a secular magazine such as Better Homes & Gardens?

My front door

The wall of my foyer

I would be interested in seeing pictures of your home and prayer corners from any of you that care to send one.

In the meantime, I pray for you, as I hope you pray for me.

God bless us all,

Silver Rose Parnell
(c) 2015

GARDENING FOR THE HOME-BOUND HERMIT

View from the back side of my apartment

I have been sick for the last 2 weeks with an awful stomach bug and have pretty much planted myself in the recliner next to the picture window.  If I was up to getting out of the house and standing at the boundary fence that separates our property from the canal, I would be able to see the Albuquerque Country Club golf course, above.  Considering that I live in subsidized housing, it is ironic that my immediate neighbor is an exclusive club that provides a playground for the ultra rich.  But my view is of a dead yard that used to support plants and grass.

Just over the black wrought iron fence, is a canal that is full of life.  It is home to multitudes of fish, fowl, and creatures.  We have everything from giant carp to trout, as far as fish are concerned.  Giant plate-sized green turtles live in that brackish water, sunning themselves on pieces of concrete.  One has to walk to the fence and peer over and down to see any of this, however.

The turtles in the canal look very much like

this one.

The occasional black-crested night heron will visit, and twice I saw the very shy green heron.

Black crested night heron that I managed to snap

while he was fishing!

I happened to catch sight of a very elegant snowy egret once.  It was standing in the middle of the water so that it appeared to be floating, its legs were so long.  His stark white plumage reflected brilliantly in the rushing water that was fed by pipe from under the ground.

I have been lucky enough to have many opportunities to watch the neighborhood beavers and their babies, when dusk begins to settle and they come out to forage.

This is a nice size beaver, but the mama beaver

who has lived here for years was MUCH bigger

the last time I saw her.

We used to have quite a lot of ground squirrels, muskrats and ugly big sewer rats, but a diamond back water snake moved into the territory in the last couple of years and has grown HUGE on those little critters.  I can't imagine anything big enough to eat him, not even the hawks that make their nests in the cottonwoods on the golf course of the country club.  He'll probably be with us a long time.

This is a picture of a SMALL diamond back water

snake.  The one living in the canal behind my 

apartment complex is about 5 feet long.

That snake also eats the goose eggs, if they nest too close to the water.  A friend and I had to chase it off a nest last spring, where it had already eaten one egg and was tucking into a second.  It will sometimes try to snag a gosling from underneath when it is swimming, and I have witnessed the goose parents battling with it in an effort to save their baby.  Thanks be to God, the baby escaped.  I know that these snakes have to eat SOMETHING, but I wish they would stick to the sewer rats and leave the sweet goslings alone.

Goose parents and the 4 remaining goslings that the snake

didn't manage to catch.

The Albuquerque Country Club is constantly making efforts to eliminate the geese that we love so well.  For a while, they had a border collie chasing them off.  Sometimes they have tried to run them down with those silly golf carts.  I even caught two of their employees swinging at them with golf clubs!  Beating the geese is illegal, but when I yelled at them to stop, they said it was private property and I should just shut up.  I called the police.

one of my goosy friends

In stark contrast to the excesses of the wealthy on the other side of the ditch, the yards of the poor apartment dwellers are bare dirt, covered by a weed tarp on which is a meager layer of cement "crusher fines" that have been dyed to imitate the color of natural earth, or adobe.  Ever since the management ripped out the grass and trees and stopped watering the bushes until they just died of thirst, the asthma I had not seen since I was a small child came rampaging back into my life.  Dust, dirt and chemicals are the culprits.

When I moved into this apartment complex 10 years ago, there were beautiful giant trees growing out of the banks of the canal and shading our yards.  All along the wrought iron fence in front of those trees was a lovely little dirt walkway lit by charming white globes.  There was a peacock living on the property.  Many lovely bushes like lavender, rosemary and honeysuckle, were planted among bright spots of grass.  It was cool, inviting and natural.  Then someone got stingy.  The giant trees were ripped out and replaced with cement blocks and wire screen, leaving our apartment without windscreen or shade.  The charming globe lights were completely removed, leaving much of the property pitch black at night.  The dirt path was replaced with roughly manufactured gravel that gets in your shoes within seconds of stepping on it.  The sprinkler system was shut down, with the exception of a very small patch near the postal boxes.  Grass and bushes died quickly, then giant machines spent 3 months tearing up the back yard and turning it into a wasteland of chewed up concrete and rock.

Looking at my back yard, which is the view from my living room "picture" window, I feel bleak, hot and dry.  I long for the greenery I left behind in California, but I have no people there any more, and nothing to draw me back there, even if I could afford it.  I used to carry a quote from the Bible in my purse.  It was from Hosea and said something like, "I will draw her into the desert, and there I will speak to her heart."  I sometimes try to comfort myself by imagining that the Lord has called me here to speak to me in that way, but a yard full of crushed concrete does not a desert make.  The real desert is beautiful.  This is not.

If and when I have the funds to do some work on the "garden," I plan to install a meditation garden of sorts that will be an inspiration to everyone that walks by.  I have gotten permission to plant a couple of trees, but I have to buy the trees first, and then our gardener will install them, digging through the crusher fines and the weed screen to the dirt below.

A unique feature of my back yard is that the apartment building casts a long shadow over it, starting at about 12:30 in the afternoon, and completely shading it by about 3 or 4 O'Clock.  Any trees planted here have to be QUITE resilient, since it is very hot in the summer and very cold in the winter in this high-desert location, but they won't get continual sun.  The gardener is advising cypress evergreens, and tells me they are very hardy and can withstand the conditions.

These Italian Cypress will grow tall and thin, staying within the bounds of the garden, with occasional pruning by the gardeners.  Between these two cypress, my dream is to install a grotto, within which I will place a large statue of our Blessed Virgin Mother.  Of course, I will have to anchor it to something REALLY heavy, otherwise someone will walk off with it.  One would not imagine that a religious person would STEAL a religious statue, but stranger things happen here in New Mexico.  Thieves and robbers, their bodies emblazoned with full color images of our Blessed Mother of Guadalupe, apparently find no disharmony between the religious symbolism they wear on their bodies and the regular breaking of nearly every commandment our Lord holds dear.  Then there are the homeless people that live in the Bosque, underneath the trees, just a few yards from our apartment complex.  A police officer told me once that there are 200 people living there.

The Bosque near my apartment complex

In the Bosque there are  a mix of people, but many of them are wanted by the law, mostly for drug crimes.  Some are homeless who don't want to be limited by the rules and inconveniences of the shelters.  Several have told me that their belongings are regularly stolen while staying in the shelters.  Others just want the freedom to smoke pot, drink, and do their drugs in peace.  A sizable number are outdoor enthusiasts that will not trade the beauty of the natural environment for the deeply depressing institutional environment of a homeless shelter.  They remind me of the hobos that rode the rails during the big depression in the early years of the 20th century.

Denizens of the Bosque regularly move through the apartment grounds late at night, stealing anything that will be useful, such as patio furniture and cushions.  A little statue of a fairy angel was once stolen during one of these midnight raids.  Maybe the camp site needed a mascot.  I really miss that little statue, as it added a bit of whimsy to the garden.  Clearly, though, whatever improvements I do make have to be too large to cart away and of no use to the Bosque gangs.

I particularly love this statue. I have no idea how really big it is, nor how much it would cost, but this is exactly what I have in mind for my grotto between the trees.  I imagine sitting in front of it during a cool evening, cup of tea in hand, meditating on the Lord, and perhaps doing a rosary or two.

It is no coincidence that religious institutions are typically very beautiful.  God is the ultimate beauty, and whatever beauty we find here on earth comes from Him and reminds us of Him at the same time.  Beauty, especially the natural beauty of flora and fauna, speak to my soul and help to order it into harmony with the Lord.  In it, I find the type of tranquility that predisposes me to feeling His presence and hearing his voice.  Sometimes I think that this sensitivity and need for the beauty of nature is peculiar to artists, but I suspect that there are gifts here for everyone.  Since my garden is on display for all my neighbors to see, I want to inspire others to feel what I feel and stretch their hands and hearts toward the Lord.

When I was a young working woman, my apartment was rather spare and utilitarian.  My apartment was little more than a pit stop.  With 9 hours at work, plus 2 hours of commuting each day, there wasn't much of an opportunity or need to feather my nest.

Nowadays, I have to seek ALL of my stimulation and activity within the four walls of my apartment because arthritis has settled into all my old injuries and I now have mobility problems.  Developing the garden expands my usable living space and gives me an opportunity to get out of the house on a regular basis without actually having to get in the car and go somewhere.  I have nowhere to go, other than church, and if there was somewhere to go, I couldn't afford it anyway.

Scientists understand that all creatures, including us humans, have a hard-wired need for stimulation.  Even animals caged in a zoo, though given really nice enclosures that cater to their physical needs, also require natural elements (such as what I am craving now), as well as activities that challenge their minds.  Zookeepers in the western world do what they can to provide these activities by hiding treats in what they call "enrichment balls" and hiding meals in the enclosure, so that their hunting instincts can be aroused and satisfied.  It would be a sad bear who was relegated to a cage for all its life.

What many do not realize is that, while calories, clothing and a roof over one's head are enough to keep us barely alive, in the strictest meaning of the word, there is no life in that kind of life.  Beauty is necessary.  Connection with other living things; plants, animals and people, are necessary.  Mental stimulation provided by hobbies and crafts are necessary.  Culture is necessary.  Most important of all, connection with God, the ground of our very being, is essential.  Many people ignore these needs when contemplating what to do about the poor.

As a disabled and mostly home-bound person, what I feel most keenly is alienation from what is most natural.  Aside from the dearth of people in my life with whom I can commune face-to-face, I miss my service dog.  I miss greenery, and walking out into the garden in the late afternoon to water and prune, pick at the weeds and breathe in the damp earth and plant fragrances.  I need these things.  We all do, to some degree or another.  Replacing the service dog whose companionship and protection are sorely needed, will be extremely expensive, since I have to have a hypoallergenic dog.  In the meantime, I have a cat that a friend gave me as a kitten 11 years ago, who is dying of kidney disease and whose care and prescription food is bankrupting me.

I have been sick with a stomach virus for 2 weeks now, a portion of which I spent in the emergency room and at the doctor's office, it was so severe.  The rest of the time, I have been sitting in my recliner next to the picture window and gazing out onto the bare dirt of my back yard, wishing I could do something about it.

To my regret, I am unable to live like Mother Teresa of Calcutta who, along with her nuns, endured the conditions of the poorest of the poor.

This kind of asceticism is beyond my physical capacity to endure.  I suspect that the knowledge that one is doing something holy and pure, having the support of one's sisters and an organization, go a long way in helping the sisters deal with this sort of life in the emotional and psychological sense.  My chronic illnesses, pains, isolation and relative poverty are enough asceticism for me, and I suspect that the Lord does not expect more.  He knows I am not able.

No, I am an ordinary sort of person, trying my best to pray continually and to follow Jesus in all things, enlisting the help of Mary and the other saints and the angels for their assistance and intercession, sitting here at my picture window, looking out over my dead yard and the lush playground of the rich beyond it.

Silver Rose Parnell
(c) 2015

HIGH CLASS PROBLEMS

One of my darling friends who is always helping me surprised me with a phone with which to start my new phone service.  Aside from having to adjust to yet another bill, the phone itself is a Rubic's Cube of the technology world.  Last night, it sent me text messages like, "someone else has taken over your account.  Go to www....."  Of course, I was horrified and went right over to the website and could not see what is the matter.  I am still the owner of record, and the address and phone are correct.  I am mystified.  Why did I get that message?  Is there something nefarious going on behind the scenes that I can't see?  I woke up fretting over this.

My new "Zinger" telephone

Reading the book is no help.  It tells me, "if you want to do this then do that.  I don't even know what this is, much less whether or not I want to do that.  If I don't do that, I wonder if I am being somehow remiss.  Am I supposed to do that?  Should I do it?  I am underlining the "this" and the "that" because I don't even understand it well enough to give it a name.

Sometimes the phone prompts me and says that there are Wi-Fi networks available.  Oh, goodie.  And?  Am I supposed to do something at this point, or is the phone pointing out something that doesn't pertain to me because I don't have internet on my phone?  Is it the phone's version of that kid's game where you count every yellow car between here and Denver?  "Oh, look...there's another yellow car."  Nothing to be done about it.  It's just another yellow car.

VW van

There are all sorts of teeny tiny little icons on the top of the phone.  I haven't the foggiest what they mean. I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet, but I strongly suspect they have something to do with the internet again.  Who knows?

His Majesty, Shivaasna

aka "Mr. Fuzzy Pants"

First thing this morning I had to go to the store to buy my cat some of the food he is NOT supposed to eat because he is dying of kidney disease but which is the only type of food he WILL eat.  I mix it with the prescription food that costs nearly $2 a can and hope for the best.  The last 2 days, he has refused to eat because I only gave him the prescription food and he was not having it.  At any rate, I pop the frustrating phone into my purse with a snort of disgust and head out the door.

On the way out of the Walgreens near my house, a man walks into the alley where they have placed the designated handicap parking (Yes, put the fragile disabled people in the alley where no one can see them get mugged.  Makes perfect sense.)  He proceeds to pull out his member and urinate against the wall, right there in front of me.  I am insulted and embarrassed, of course.  One of my pet peeves is the casual way in which so many men fling their bodily fluids onto the pavements from various orifices.  It's revolting.  I couldn't get into the car fast enough.  Never have I been so grateful for automatic door locks!  It's like the urban version of the USS Enterprise.  "Shields up!"

USS Starship Enterprise

I once saw a tour bus pull up into that same alley and several men exited the bus, stepped into the trash cubicle, and urinated behind the garbage bins.  Lovely surprise for the poor maintenance men that have to tidy that area.  Can you imagine?

Not long ago, I witnessed a man blow his nose onto the pavement.  He just held one nostril and let the other one blow out its contents.  One is always seeing men spitting onto the sidewalk.  This is where everyone walks, mind you.  It's a filthy business.  Whatever happened to a nice handkerchief?  Again, I do not see women spitting onto the pavement, and I am so curious to know whether or not the male of our species have an extra gland in their mouths that women do not have, and they have to expel the contents now and then.

bird of paradise, displaying for a

female

In the animal world, behavioral differences between the male and female of the species are meant to attract one another.  I wonder if I have misunderstood something crucial all these years.  If so, I wish the male of our species would do something lovely instead of urinating and spitting in front of strange ladies.  What about dancing?  I saw a beautiful film about a particular kind of bird in the rain forest that has exquisite plumage and does this amazing dance whenever a female comes near them.  It was mesmerizing.  How about something like that?  I think I would rather enjoy watching that, especially if the plumage was pretty.

So, this morning, before I had a chance to settle into the car and flee the scene, I had to witness that man casually put his penis back into his elastic-waist shorts and then saunter back to the payday loan establishment a few doors down.  I would bet that the payday loan shop doesn't allow anyone to use their bathroom, so the man decided to do what he did.  I've never seen a woman do that.  You know what women do.  They wait.  They hold it until they get to a bathroom.  I have also wondered to myself if there is something inherently flawed with the male urinary system and they are physically unable to wait, poor dears.  Of course, I've never seen any one of them actually let loose inside a store, mind you.  "Oh no!  I think my waters just broke."  No, that doesn't happen.  They must have some kind of control.

If some men feel they absolutely cannot be made to wait, perhaps it is time we started marketing diapers to them.  Either wear a diaper, or we'll ticket you $100 for peeing on the sidewalk.  That sounds like a uniquely American situation.  We love to punish people.  That's why we have so many people in prison.

On the other hand, we could simply take care of one another in a better way by providing bathrooms in shopping centers and public places as a matter of course.  You know why we don't have those?  It costs money to build and maintain bathrooms and we don't want to spend money on other people.  Our hard-boiled individualism reflects itself in this and many other anti-social cultural constructs.

Public bathroom in Thailand

I often wonder why, with our great freedom to construct a society of any type we want, the western world, for the most part, has imagined itself into a world that is far uglier than it has to be.  I think this is why we are so addicted to entertainment.  We must escape into an imaginary dimension because we can't stand the one in which we actually live....the one we have constructed.

Gas Station in Carmel, California

Some towns, however, have too much civic pride to let their streets turn into troughs of urine.  In chi-chi tourist towns, like beautiful Carmel, California, even the gas stations and toilets have to be constructed and decorated in a specific style.  There are very strict rules and building codes about this, all of which are designed to eliminate the ugly while harmonizing with nature.  I don't think neon is allowed within the city limits.  The residents of this town have an aesthetic vision of beauty that cannot be breached, and I am willing to bet that one would be hard pressed to find an ugly alley in which to pee in that little burgh.  Even the toilets at the beach are substantial and beautiful.

Public bathrooms at a Carmel beach

Carmel proper is a smallish town, a wealthy enclave, and can afford to spend a lot of money to maintain a certain look and level of cleanliness.  As with all things, it boils down to the availability of funds.  Not all towns have the wealth of Carmel, which is where a Federal government program would come in handy.  But there is that pesky selfishness we have to contend with.  People in California don't want to pay taxes to help raise the standard of living somewhere else.  "Who cares about the wellbeing of people in New Mexico?  I've got mine, and that's all that matters."

I'm convinced that it is time for a paradigm shift to a model of society that is supportive of all its members, one that is kind, gentle, loving and generous toward one another and the earth on which we live; a culture that recognizes the need for beauty that is in harmony with nature and doesn't want to cover everything over with cement.  Just as the industrial revolution pushed Americans off the farms and into the city, it is time for another model to take over.  We only have to decide what we want and then put it into action.

The first thing I want is for everyone to have access to the basic needs of life, and what could be more basic than a sanitary and attractive loo?  That, and a telephone that doesn't require an advanced degree in computer sciences to operate.

Silver Rose Parnell
Copyright (c) 2015
All rights reserved.

INDIANA ON MY MIND

Sometime in my mid to late 30's, I worked for an attorney in Beverly Hills who, I grew to understand, was somewhat lacking in personal ethics.  One day, he placed a document in front of me and told me to sign a verification testifying that I had mailed copies of it to the opposing attorney a few days previously.  I had never seen the document before, so I declined to sign it.  He wanted me to lie, and my personal ethics and religious sensibilities prevented me from doing it.  He insisted, quite vigorously, that he was the boss, he had ordered me to sign it and that he would take responsibility for it.  He claimed I would not be culpable, morally or legally.  He was wrong on both counts.

When he realized that I was not going to budge, he either fired me or I quit.  I can't remember which.  It was a terrible job anyway.  Our work space was tiny, all the secretaries were jammed together, and they were horrible women, probably each one was part of the "mean girl" clique in high school, and they had even gone so far as to steal my tax return out of the outgoing mail, probably to see how much money I made, or just to mess with me.  Maybe both.

When the conversation turned to my final check, the attorney refused to pay me my accrued vacation pay.  California law, at that time, provided that a person's vacation pay accrued on a daily basis and that, when you left the employ of a company, the company had to pay you the accrued vacation pay.  Previously, companies had waited until an employee was about to take a vacation and then fired them without severance and without paying for the vacation they had earned.

When I reminded this attorney of the laws in this regard, he said, "so sue me."  I replied, "Fine, I will!" and I drove directly to the Department of Labor Standard Enforcement and filled out a complaint against them.  I knew that, if the company did not give me the money it owed me within two weeks, they could be fined $10,000 or more and they could be required to pay me as if I was still employed with them, for every day I had to wait before I received the money I was owed.  I received my complete check within a week.

There were laws in place and offices to administer those laws with regard to compensation, but to my knowledge, there was no protection for my religious or ethical considerations.  If an employer ordered me to lie or do something illegal or unethical, there wasn't much recourse except to quit, get fired, or cave in.  The only "alternative"  was to hire an attorney and sue the employer to get one's job back, which would be contingent upon being able to prove one's case - and what clerical worker has that kind of money or would want to return to a job like that anyway?

I was many times ordered to lie and/or do unethical or immoral things during my working life.  I refused, and I moved on to another job.  There was little room in business for a secretary or an office manager who will not lie for their boss.

40 years ago, a young mother at age 20, I worked as an assistant in the commodities department at a famous financial management firm on one of the top floors of a large office building in the heart of downtown Los Angeles.  I was the only female on the floor, and all the men would gather in the conference room at lunch time to watch pornographic movies.  They would hoot and holler and make vulgar noises and comments about the movies, every once in a while calling out to me to come and join them.  It was an awful experience.

I hadn't been there long when I was propositioned by the boss.  He asked me to go to Las Vegas with him for the weekend.  I refused, of course.  He fired me immediately.  I didn't realize he had blacklisted me with his cronies until I went on an interview for a job with another firm in the neighborhood.  The interviewer was a friend of the boss that had propositioned me.  In front of a room full of people, the interviewer announced that he would never hire me because my previous employer had told him I was lazy and slow.  He pronounced this with an evil smile and a glance around the room to make sure that everyone heard him.  Evidently, he took an interview with me just so he could punish me and humiliate me in front of all those other people.  I had dared to say "no" to a weekend of sex with the boss.

I see now that there is this huge flap about a law recently enacted in Indiana in which a person of religious conviction cannot be forced to materially cooperate or assist in some action or service that is of a nature that is considered morally reprehensible by the religion of the person.  Mainstream media is screaming "discrimination!" because the law would protect a Christian baker from having to make cakes for gay weddings, since homosexual acts are considered very sinful.    It would protect the Jewish man from having to dry clean all the uniforms of the Nazi party or the Aryan Nation.  I believe it would also protect the black tailor from having to sew the costumes for the next KKK rally.

Certain media outlets are making hay out of this law, canvassing small businesses owned and/or run by Christians and asking them questions designed to get them to admit that they would not serve a gay wedding.  At least one business has been forced to close its doors.  They were getting death threats.

In my own life, I have observed that, the harder I work to live a good, holy and pure life, the more animosity to which I am subjected by the world at large, acquaintances, Facebook people, etc.  I can feel the pressure to conform to the secular norm of sex on demand, abortions on demand, abandonment of my faith on demand.  I am not allowed to hold any opinion that differs from the secular worldview, or else my character and motives are demeaned and I become the object of heated and hateful attacks.

I used to belong to a religion that preached that "all paths lead to God," and not a single person criticized me, but as soon as I had my conversion and became Catholic, all hell broke loose.  Even a friend of many years duration went nuts and took every opportunity to bash my faith, in person and in print, (even going so far as to spread lies about it), while at the same time insisting on attending Catholic retreats and receiving the Eucharist, though never having been Catholic and knowing full well that the Catholic Church does not allow non-Catholics to receive communion.  Illicitly receiving the Eucharist under false pretenses, in an unworthy state, while at the same time campaigning against the teachings of faith and morals of the Catholic Church is an insult to the faith.  I can only imagine the motives, as it makes no sense to me, except in the context of a childish effort to disavow "the rules" by flouting them.

I would be happy to see more laws like the one in Indiana being enacted in the United States.  More than a dozen states have it on their books at present, and I would like to see it expanded to provide protection for employees in the work place so that employers do not feel they can treat them as slaves and force them to commit acts against their conscience.  Judging from the brouhaha that has erupted since Indiana introduced this law, however, I doubt that stout protections for religious conscience will be enacted any further.  Western culture seems hellbent on jumping off the cliff of secular atheism and moral relativism.  One can always hope, and pray it will stop itself before it goes hurling over the edge, too late to save itself.  In the meantime, let's pray.

God save us all.

Silver Rose