The League of Bearded Catholics

Canada's Bearded Ladies

(Photo -Yahoo Sports)

I'll admit that I have not watched a great deal of women's hockey - save for a few minutes of an Olympic matchup a few days ago - and even then, I had questions (such as "why am I watching this?").

I make no claim to be a "fan", but I have been stirred to come to the defense of the embattled Canadian Olympic women's hockey team, as a wave of political correctness threatens to swamp their merry island... or ice floe.

In an emptying areana, the team (having just won the Olympic gold medal) celebrated on the ice with beer and cigars, which has caused no end of consternation and embarrassment for the Canadian Olympic committee. Such behavior sets a bad example, according to some (one girl was under the legal drinking age).

I withhold judgment on that issue until I know what brand of beer and cigars they indulged in.

But on principle, I must stand with these Olympic lasses and issue an official TLBC eye-roll to the hysterical ninnies who have made this an issue.

Do you figure the beer or the tobacco will land them in more trouble?

Anyway... puff proudly, ladies.

Rules, Rules, Rules

Be sure and drop by the Blog of the American Chesterton Society (now in our Links) early and often in your bearded browsing. Always high quality bloggage.

Presented in their most recent post is a passage wherein G.K.C. turns up the roots of rules and rule making. Among his observations;

It is the fashion to talk of institutions as cold and cramping things. The truth is that when people are in exceptionally high spirits, really wild with freedom and invention, they always must, and they always do, create institutions. When men are weary they fall into anarchy; but while they are gay and vigorous they invariably make rules.

 

Counterintuitive according to the Spirit of the Age, but somewhat reflected, I thought, in the League Bylaws. Give them a read, now and then.

Talking of which, drop a note in the combox or shoot us an e-mail when you get your membership certificate. Their processing may have been slowed down because the League Postmaster had the affrontery to insist they not be folded. It turns out that the U.S. Postal Service charges extra for not folding your mail. Truly. Apparently, it means such items must be processed by hand, and who knows what chaos such an eccentric request may generate?

The good news is that postal rates to Europe are cheaper than expected, so those of you in the Old World West, please send along your mailing address vie e-mail and you will also soon receive your member certificate, printed on the same authentic imitation Capybara parchment for which League publications are already so justly admired.

The local chapter here in the vicinity of the Homely Office is steadily congealing. Local members have been conspiring and running covert reconnaissance sorties in search of a suitable meeting place. The breathtaking account of our first *official* meeting will be posted.

For those working toward a local TLBC chapter, here are some notes from the Homely Office;

First, there's no hurry. The League did not even exist a few months ago. I have been approaching potential members in person (usually at Mass or some other parish function) by ones or twos. I try to talk to them for a few minutes to get a feel for how much they already know about (and care about) the work of the Four Patrons. I invite everyone, but will probably follow up only with those I think will really enjoy a League meeting. I'm trying to imagine something more tedious than, out of friendship or sympathy, dutifully slogging off to what appears to be a meeting of some sort of geeky fan club for Dead British Guys, where there are a handful of True Believers all giddily talking over one another, and a smaller contingent of guys like yourself who spend the time staring at one another and looking at their watches. Better a smaller, motivated group where everyone "gets" the idea without having to be "sold". Though we hope to spread appreciation for these authors and their ideas, The League is not really meant to be evangelical in its approach. We do not at all pretend to teach, only to (in the words of the late, great Douglas Adams) "share and enjoy". For those on the fringe, offer to lend them a book or essay by one of the Big Four.

Since we now have a good-sized group of interested people, we're beginning to communicate informally to try and set a convenient time and place for the first meeting. After these have been determined, a few flyers and posters will be made up and posted in public spots (the public library, some local book shops and pubs, etc...). Posting notices at one's parish may be a tickly business, as this begins to make The League look like a para-church thing, in which case parishioners may expect that this is something vetted and approved by the parish priest or even the disocese.

I you can post in your parish in an informal way, without this implying official ecclesial approval, go ahead. If not, skip it and stick to personal contacts with fellow parishioners. Keep in mind that it is not necessary at all that members be parishioners, or even Catholic. Or bearded.

I recently was delighted to hear from a League member in a nearby town that his parish priest is aware of The League and wants to join up. That will be sweet! I also plan to invite our own parish priests, as well as priests from some nearby parishes. How many will be interested I can't say, but I want them to know about the group and know they are more than welcome.

Things are coming along nicely. Like a good campfire, the slow burn is best.

**Remember; send in your Bearded Tributes and articles, poems, art, etc... for publication, as well as news of local activities.

Hot Dog Wars

In the combox of a previous post, esteemed Leaguer Will Duquette comes to the defense of the humble hot dog, and the ever-reliable John Kasaian responds with a theological meditation on the frankfurter, pouring rhetorical gasoline on a furious partisan controversy that threatens to rival the divisive, antagonistic power of the Reformation. Is there no middle ground on hot dogs? Can't we all just get a foot-long?

There is a great deal of satisfaction in defending anything that is really humble, and if anything is humble, a hot dog is. A hot dog has no pretense, no social ambition.

I like hot dogs. Hot dogs are associated with fun and with informal socializing of a particulalrly American kind, like at a ball game or a summer picnic. Pretty dreary if that's all you have to eat, though. A single dude microwaving a hot dog for dinner is not in a very enviable state, and I speak from experience. It's better than nothing, but...

Hot dogs could be made at home, perhaps, but one hardly sees the point. The whole rationale of the hot dog is to work in industrial volume... to convert a huge amount of seemingly irredeemable processed leftovers into a homogeneous, reliable and continuous stream of extruded meat product. It's like pro-active recycling!

But the hot dog stands as an icon of the entire highly processed, mass produced and centrally distributed approach to food (and everything else) that signalled the sad downfall of the American kitchen. Along with reflecting some of the best aspects of American culture, a hot dog embodies some of the worst; a hot dog is unpretentious, versatile, reliable, fun and simple... but it is also (in the worst sense) cheap, easy, unhealthy, homogeneous and bland. Hot dogs are for the appetite what television is for the brain.

It actually appears that the hot dog is a surprisingly complex and significant symbol of American life and culture. Even as I write, I begin to become convinced that if we can ever figure out the true iconographic significance of the hot dog, then balancing the budget and providing universal health care will almost take care of themselves.

In the poem below, G.K. Chesterton speaks highly of the Sausage, but his opinion of hot dogs is, as far as I know, a subject only for speculation.

A Ballade of an Anti-Puritan

  

THEY spoke of Progress spiring round,

Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward--

It is not true to say I frowned,

Or ran about the room and roared;

I might have simply sat and snored--

I rose politely in the club

And said, `I feel a little bored;

Will someone take me to a pub?'

The new world's wisest did surround

Me; and it pains me to record

I did not think their views profound,

Or their conclusions well assured;

The simple life I can't afford,

Besides, I do not like the grub--

I want a mash and sausage, `scored'--

Will someone take me to a pub?

I know where Men can still be found,

Anger and clamorous accord,

And virtues growing from the ground,

And fellowship of beer and board,

And song, that is a sturdy cord,

And hope, that is a hardy shrub,

And goodness, that is God's last word--

Will someone take me to a pub?

 Envoi

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword

To see the sort of knights you dub--

Is that the last of them--O Lord

Will someone take me to a pub?

 

• Poems of G.K. Chesterton - 1915

Pediatricians Want Grapes Re-designed for Safety

Okay, this story (through Yahoo) mainly focuses on hot dogs and candy, but grapes are also mentioned as a common choking hazard. One wonders if the American Academy of Pediatrics will present a petition asking God to take things like grapes, peanuts and baby carrots back to the drawing board for an update.

In the case of the "baby carrots", even the name is a problem, as it could be taken as being specially made for babies. Hereafter, they should probably be called "Small, Dangerous Carrots, Perfect for Choking On".

Anyway, the AAP can rest easy... hot dogs already come in a safer, flat shape... it's called "bologna".

Meanwhile, one wonders if hot dogs will disappear from store shelves, along with malted milk balls and jaw breakers, or whether their purchase will merely be restricted to those with the proper permits.

Hot dogs are famously vile, and have even served for some time as a kind of symbol of everything that is wrong with factory-made food. But they have their place, especially where a campire is involved.

Still, based on this latest bit of Public Health hysteria, the League recommends (as a substitute for hot dogs) introducing your children to Bratwurst at the earliest age possible. Too big to choke on (the grease would help it slide down in any case), but a joy to gnaw. A much more substantial and satisfying texture than hot dogs, too, which (one would think) would help boost neurological development, as well. The inside of a Bratwurst is a subtle and complex experience.

Oh, modern child rearing is so dangerous and complicated...

It's International Pipe Smoking Day!

Pictured above is one of my international pipes, smoking (clutched in my stubby fingers... it's no wonder I never excelled at playing the guitar!). This is on our screened porch, which is a marvelous pipe smoking venue, amenable to peaceful contemplation among the tall oaks. During the winter months, I have taken more often to the Man Cave or, as it is affectionately called in our house, The Den of Manly Pursuits (or DMP, pronounced "dump") for my smokes.

The Dump is also where I keep most of my books, with a special shelf being given over to the works of Tolkien, Lewis, Belloc and Chesterton. At least three of these Four Patrons smoked a pipe. I don't know about Chesterton, but judging frim the time in which he lived, it would not be at all unlikely that he smoked a pipe occasionally, as well. I have personally only seen photos of him with cigars or cigarettes.

The terrific thing about being a bearded pipe smoker is that you get to carry the aroma of your last smoke around with you, wherever you go.

Sounds like a good day to drop in at my local pipe shop!

(Cross-posted at Old World Swine)

Begging Off 'til Monday

Horrendous virus attack on my trusty laptop. Imagine a Pac-Man looking virus running amok in my hard drive, making that "wokka-Wokka" sound as it eats my file directory.

If Dante were alive, his Inferno would include descriptions of that special place in Hell for writers of Malicious Code.

Beard Making Tip

When manufacturing fake beards, say when cutting them out of poly/acrylic faux fur, DO NOT shake the loose hairs from the new beard near food items... like a butter dish, for instance. There can be surprisingly strong cross currents in kitchens.

Yes, the Membership Packets are on their way, with my deepest apologies for their lateness. If you knew how difficult it is to smuggle Capybara Parchment into the country, though...

The full, serialized tale will be forthcoming. I was lucky to escape with my beard!

Screwtape and Lent

Happy Fat Tuesday! Tonight's menu - steak and beer. Okay, not creative, but solid none the less. Maybe we'll pick up some shrimp as a stand-in for crawfish... a nod to Cajun Country.

The coming Lenten season seemed a good time for me to pick up The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, as well as digging out my old copy of C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters.

I first read Screwtape decades ago, and in my memory, I held it to be one of Lewis's fluffier works, notable mainly for the cleverness of the it's imaginative conceit; that it was supposed to be composed of letters written from a demon to one of the "junior tempters" in his charge.

What I had failed to recall sufficiently - and what makes the book profitable reading for any Christian - were Lewis's spiritual insights. His depth of understanding and self-knowledge are what give the book its teeth. Somehow I had forgotten that (before I considered becoming a Catholic) Lewis's observations in large part helped give name and form to experiences I had, to that point, hardly been aware I was having... I refer to all the varied modes of selfishness, excuse-making and spiritual neglect in which we humans operate, even without Satan's help.

I was struck yesterday by one particular passage, being that I have hammered on "Puritanism" now and again;

In modern Christian writings, though I see much (indeed more than I like) about Mammon, I see few of the old warnings about Worldly Vanities, the Choice of Friends, and the Value of Time. All that, your patient would probably classify as "Puritanism"—and may I remark in passing that the value we have given to that word is one of the really solid triumphs of the last hundred years? By it we rescue annually thousands of humans from temperance, chastity, and sobriety of life.

Godly moderation is difficult, and for some it is never attained. One can't condemn too harshly the desperate Puritan impulse to simply place every sort of worldly pleasure at arms length. G.K. Chesterton called Puritanism "...an honourable mood; it was a noble fad. In other words, it was a highly creditable mistake." (from Orthodoxy).

But it was a mistake, as the current pejorative use of the word "Puritan" partly attests. As the season of Lent teaches us, asceticism is of real spiritual benefit only when it is voluntary. What the Puritans did was to set up a code forbidding everyone else doing anything they thought too worldly or spiritually dangerous. It seems rooted in despair "Moderation is impossible... so better to be rid of all temptations."

Labeling anyone a "Puritan" is a common way for thoroughly worldly people to condemn as stuffy and intolerant anyone whose moral practices they find too restrictive for their tastes. So, for instance, if you refuse to go to a bachelor party (complete with strippers), you're being Puritanical. If you disapprove of some co-worker's fornication or drug use, you're a Puritan.

Hurrah for Lent! It marks out the narrow route between the Scylla and Charybdis of Puritanism and Profligacy.

Lent is that 40 day classroom wherein we learn every year the true extent to which we are all habit-ridden and weak. It is also a celebration of the spiritual power of voluntary sacrifice. In addition, it helps us to develop proper gratitude for the sheer, mind-pummeling volume of good things that we enjoy every day.

I very narrowly escaped giving up beer this year (here you may picture me shakily wiping my brow with a handkerchief). That or coffee. Fortunately, though, my wife came up with this idea of us both going on some protein shake diet during Lent, so I gratefully accepted this last minute rescue.

As Barb Nicolosi once said, though, "If you enjoy Lent, you're not doing it right."

I will leave you with a Lenten poem, composed by the incomparable Kevin O'Brien, and which he posted on Facebook yesterday;

Have mercy on me, Lord, a sinner,

My Lenten vows I'm not observing.

I say this grace tonight at dinner,

“Have mercy on me, Lord, a sinner!"

I break my fast and grow no thinner

For I have had a second serving.

Have mercy on me, Lord, a sinner,

My Lenten vows I'm not observing.

Dr. Bootstrap's Anti-Freeze & Bone Strengthener

To help get us all into the proper frame of mind for Fat Tuesday, a couple of inspiring tidbits on the importance of Drink;

First, Eric Scheske at The Daily Eudemon (who does a drinking post every Friday) passes on the latest acknowledgement of some of the health benfits of C₂H₅OH, while giving the topic a little Chestertonian perspective;

Never drink because you need it, for this is rational drinking, and the way to death and hell. But drink because you do not need it, for this is irrational drinking, and the ancient health of the world.

And Leaguer John Kasaian e-mailed a link to what is called a Super Important Discovery News Alert at Fr. John Zuhlsdorf's blog What Does the Prayer Really Say?.

Seems some burly bearded guys have discovered, half buried in permafrost underneath an abandoned cabin on the extreme southern tip of New Zealand, some long forgotten crates of whiskey and brandy that were part of Ernest Shackleton's Antarctic expedition of 1901.

Shackleton and his colleagues had apparently brought about 20 cases of whiskey, originally.

Do contemporary scientists think to pack that thoroughly for modern research junkets? Truly, if I traveled to Antarctica, I would need a fair amount of the stuff just to screw up enough courage to step off the boat.

This is the kind of thing that fueled the age of discovery.

DialogueJam

With a long and sustained tug we have attempted to pull the mitre off pontifical man; and his head has come off with it. - G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, Ch.3, The Suicide of Thought

Bearded Catholic Randy Beeler, at his blog The Catholic Comedy, comments on "a recent National Catholic Reporter blog post" in which "John Allen quotes Dallas Bishop Kevin Farrell's commencement address at the University of Dallas (UD) last Spring"

From the Bishop's commencement address;

We need to be self-critical and realize that no one of us has the only approach to Catholicism," Farrell said. "Honest debate, not confrontation -- true dialogue where we seek to understand the other, not facile condemnation -- should be the overarching way we move forward.

I want to say going out the gate that don't know much about either John Allen or His Exellency Bishop Farrell, so I am not addressing any of my remarks to them in particular. I will only say that the continued call for "dialogue" from some quarters, whether in the Church or the larger society, can not possibly be understood as open ended and all inclusive. In order for any meaningful debate to take place at all, there must first be some things established that are beyond debate or dialogue, that are not open to argument.

There are some things that may be fascinating to talk about, but useless to argue, such as the validity of Reason, or the general reliability of the senses, or the existence of other selves.

You can't reason your way to the validity of Reason... you can't work out an equation proving the validity of mathematics. You can't prove scientifically that the five senses tell us the truth about the outside world. You can't prove the outside world exists. These are all things that we take for granted as the foundations of reason. Trying to reason one's way toward these things is simply moving in the wrong direction, which reminds me of a joke (courtesy of P.D.Q. Bach)

Mister, do you want us to build your house from the bottom up, or from the top down?

Well, from the bottom up, naturally!

Consarn it, we'll have to tear it down and start all over again!

There may be those who toy with ideas such as that there is really no order in the cosmos, that there are no categories or patterns but what we choose to impose on the chaos of reality... but the people who make these arguments still insist on correct change, still drive on the right side of the road, still wear their pants on their legs and not on their heads. In other words, their philosophy is a phantasm, a mental trick, that even they (thankfully) do not try to take seriously.

As Chesterton said (from Orthodoxy, Ch. 2, "The Maniac");

This chapter is purely practical and is concerned with what actually is the chief mark and element of insanity; we may say in summary that it is reason used without root, reason in the void. The man who begins to think without the proper first principles goes mad, the man who begins to think at the wrong end.

The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else becomes lucid.

There are any number of things that might be considered inarguable for a Catholic, because if any one of these things is an open question (the points of the Creed, for example), then Catholicism and all of Christian history becomes a continually open question. As St. Paul put it, "... if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith." (1 Cor. 15:14). In other words, the resurrection of Christ is not an issue open for "dialogue" within the Church. Period. Unless this question is considered settled by all parties, the question of, say, priestly celibacy is pretty moot. If Christ is not risen, who cares, frankly, if priests marry or not? Shoot, let them marry. Let them smoke crack.

Then comes the question of who (oh, who?), if anyone, has the authority to determine which areas are legitimately open for dialogue, and which are not. For a Catholic, again, this is a settled question. Someone does have precisely this authority, and... well, I know it's not me.

Let any Catholics looking for dialogue on this or that first state plainly what they accept as beyond debate. That may save everyone a lot of trouble.