Several years ago, The Kansas City Catholic (now known as the Kansas Catholic, having taken his soul on the road to parts elsewhere in my great state) crafted a delightful exchange between churches on the nature of Ash Wednesday and Lent. The original is at http://kansascatholic.blogspot.com/2009/02/lenten-fare.html, and is reproduced here below.

Have a blessed and fruitful lent.

Today is Ash Wednesday. It’s not actually a Holy Day of Obligation, but most people treat is like it is. The churches will be packed today. People who haven’t been to Mass since Christmas will go to church Ash Wednesday. Church regulars will grumble that the intermittent-Catholics are taking all the good pews in church, and make comments like “do they think that ashes are magic or something?” Heh.

It’s also the day that people dust off the New Year’s resolutions that they abandoned sometime around January 6th and re-try them for Lenten resolutions. In my opinion though, that’s not exactly doing it correctly. It seems to me that most people make New Year’s resolutions to improve themselves: get a new job, lose weight, shoot an 85 on the golf course, etc. Lenten resolutions are something different though: it’s to humble yourself for God. Lent’s resolutions should be designed to make you holier; they should be about doing something for no purpose other than to improve your relationship with God.

Since time immemorial, people have fasted to grow in holiness. (OVERSIMPLIFICATION ALERT) They would, for a period of time, deny themselves the gratification of eating– so that when the period was up, the celebration of eating a big meal would coincide with celebrating with the Lord. When people entered into a Lenten fast on Ash Wednesday– the Easter feast where Christians celebrate Christ’s triumph over death would be even more spectacular: now with ham!

In modern days, most people don’t uphold the true Lenten fast anymore. Indeed, even Holy Mother Church herself doesn’t prescribe the fast for Catholics. Under certain conditions (healthy between the ages of 18 and 60), Catholics are required to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday… and that’s pretty much it these days. Even the old rules about abstinence from meat have been relaxed to Ash Wednesday and Good Friday (Good Friday is redundant, since Canons 1250 and 1251 in the Code of Canon Law require Catholics to abstain from meat EVERY Friday of the year), whereas in times past, Carne-Vale (Latin for Goodbye, Meat!) was in place for all of Lent as well as every Friday of the year.

These days, most people take on other forms of resolutions during Lent instead of fast and abstinence. They fast from eating ice cream or abstain from cussing. Snore. Hey, America: we should probably be cussing less and eating less ice cream anyway. Do people really eat much ice cream in February? Lent is supposed to be hard. It is to bring you into focus on the resurrection of Jesus Christ and His promise of salvation. It is not a diet plan! That’s why some people decide that their Lenten resolutions aren’t so much to give something up as it is to take on something new: going to daily Mass, making a contribution to a charitable organization, praying a rosary, volunteering with an outreach program, etc. We are to do things for the Lord, not to cut back on the amount of text messages we send (unless of course, you are so reliant on texting that it would be genuine mortification to do so)

For the last few years, I decided to take on a large penitential sacrifice and to give up meat for all of Lent. Last year’s resolution was as follows:

(1) Giving up meat for all of lent.
(2) Adding 1 hour of adoration or Mass per week.
(3) No snacks from the vendor at work.
(4) Make some charitable donations to worthy causes.

I used the traditional understanding of Carne-Vale, which was that warm-blooded animals are the ones made of meat– which is how we get the great Catholic loophole that fish aren’t made of meat. It’s really not as hard as it sounds, though by Holy Week, the prospect of eating one more iota of tilapia is pretty unappealing.

This year, I am going to do something different instead. Instead of abstinence, I am going to do a 40-day fast, add 1 hour of Mass or adoration per week, and make some charitable donations. I will fast according to the standard rules of fasting: The Church defines this as one meal a day, and two smaller meals which if added together would not exceed the main meal in quantity. The fast is broken by eating between meals and by drinks which could be considered food (milk shakes, but not milk). Alcoholic beverages do not break the fast; however, they seem contrary to the spirit of doing penance.

Besides that, I’m looking forward to spending time in quiet prayer or adoration this lent. I’ve written before than I’m not a very good pray-er, and I hope to take this chance to improve on that with a little practice.

Have a blessed and fruitful lent, gentle reader. I’ll pray that you can grow in holiness, please do the same for me.

Last week I joined a Facebook group called “Keep the ‘Saint’ in St. Valentine’s Day”. For many years now, it’s been trendy for curmudgeons like myself to say that people need to “Keep Christ in Christmas” or even “Keep Mass in Christmas”. And I know some people who bemoan the drunken slobber of St. Patrick’s Day—which good Saint Patrick himself would not even recognize.

But Valentine is a bit of a lost saint. We celebrate his day by goading men into buying impossibly-out-of-season and overly-expensive flowers, boxes of chocolate candy, expensive dinners and heart-shaped jewelry that bears a strange resemblance to a person’s backside (Nota Bene: Gents, if every kiss actually begins with jewelry, then you might be in a relationship with a prostitute. I’m sorry that I had to be the one to tell you this). And none of it has anything to do with the actual Saint Valentine, whose day we celebrate today.

Yes, there actually was a Saint Valentine. Several actually—martyrs all, and all are honored on February 14. Back in the era of Late Antiquity, the name “Valentine” was a common name for boys. The name comes from the word for valor; a fitting name for Christian martyrs.

But February 14 is not a group-celebration for all the Valentine men; it points to one Saint in particular—St. Valentine of Rome. He was a physician and a priest—there is some evidence that he was also a bishop, but time has made his episcopacy somewhat unverifiable.

The 3rd Century Roman emperor Claudius II only reigned over the empire for 2 years, but those two years were bent on military power. Claudius II would lead attacks on the Goths and the Gauls, each with swift and decisive success. Claudius II believed that Roman soldiers should be unmarried men, since men with wives are distracted by their obligations at home. This did not, however, stop the Roman soldiers from falling in love—and wanting to marry the beautiful Mediterranean women of the Empire.

Father Valentine in Rome would perform weddings for the lovestruck couples, in bold defiance of the orders of the Emperor. He also ministered to Christians persecuted by the Roman government, defying the decrees of the Empire to do the Lord’s work, no matter what it cost him.

And ultimately, it cost him his life.

Father Valentine was arrested, dragged to a Roman court and threatened with his life if he did not renounce his Christian faith. Valentine, again boldly defiant in loyal service to the Lord, refused to abandon Jesus Christ. He was condemned, clubbed and beheaded, going to his eternal reward on February 14 in the year 269. He was buried in a roadside cemetery near modern-day Tivoli, where his body remained until 1836, when his bones were dug up and transferred to (interestingly and inexplicably) to the Whitefriar Church in Dublin, Ireland by the papal decree of Pope Gregory XVI.

Some historians and martyrologies separate St. Valentine of Rome and St. Valentine of Terni, others do not distinguish their stories. Truth be told, there is not a lot of verifiable data on either man other than the pious traditions that conflate their stories (and perhaps some of the stories of other Valentines), and scholars sometimes have a hard time sorting out who’s who. This doesn’t bother me a bit. From what I know of the Valentine martyrs of the era, they wouldn’t mind standing as examples that point people to Christ today, even if they do get a little mixed together. At least, I hope they wouldn’t mind.

Because of his unwavering work for the poor, persecuted, and the young-and in-love, Saint Valentine of Rome is the patron saint of young people, engaged couples, apiarists and married couples. He is a patron against epilepsy, against fainting and against plague. Valentine is also the patron saint of greeting card manufacturers, for understandable reasons.

A very old pagan celebration called Lupercalia was a Roman ritual to the god Lupercus, where sacrificing dogs, goats and vestal virgin priestesses while lining up young girls and women to be publicly whipped by essentially-naked men (covered only by strategically-placed goat skins)—all of which would ensure health and fertility for another year. During the festival, young women would place their names in a large urn. The young men would draw a name from the urn and then be romantically linked with that young woman for the following year in honor of the sex and fertility goddess Februata Juno. Lupercalia lasted for several days, beginning on February 15. The festival was Christianized in the 5th Century, with the pagan practices suppressed, while an emphasis on the godly lives of saints like Valentine replaced the carnal practices of Lupercalia.

There is also a belief arising in the middle-ages that mid-way through February is where young birds find their lifelong mates—an appropriate symbol for the lifelong love of Christian marriage, and a convenient tie-in for the feast day of a martyr who gave his life marrying young couples. So men would ask ladies for their love on St. Valentine’s Day. The oldest known Valentine’s Day card is a letter from the year 1477—a photo of the card and its text is reproduced on the Fisheaters website. Surprisingly, it does not accompany a lollipop or a small package of Lik-M-Aid sugar, and does not appear to be passed out at a candy infused eight-year-old’s school party, but is a breathy letter from a young woman to a man—both secretly in love. It implores: “Right reverent and worshipful and my right well-beloved valentine, I recommend me unto you full heartedly, desiring to hear of your welfare, which I beseech Almighty God long for to preserve unto his pleasure and your hearts desire.” Hardly the “TEXT ME” of those Tums-flavored heart candies that I love so much.

And let’s leave Cupid out of this (pretty please, wayward AmericanCatholic.org?). While it’s fun to think of fat flying babies, Cupid is a pagan god, not a Christian symbol of love. I hardly think St. Valentine would approve of how the false god got so intertwined with the day of his martyrdom. You understand, right?

Pope Paul VI dropped St. Valentine’s Day from the universal calendar in 1969. The canonical iconoclasm of the 1960’s had many calendar casualties, most of whom have been largely forgotten by the world in 40 short years. But the Valentine-Industrial complex of florists, candy makers, Hallmark cards, Italian restaurants and chain jewelry shops have preserved this saint’s legacy longer than others who have almost been totally forgotten in a single generation, like Saints Philomena, Ursula and Wilgefortis. *sigh*

Today is Saint Valentine’s Day. It is a day to celebrate the happy bonds of Christian love and service to the Lord. Take a moment to thank the Lord for the love in your life, or to as Him to show you the direction towards that love—be it married, single or consecrated religious, and to do it like St. Valentine did—in steadfast fidelity to Jesus Christ.

St. Valentine, pray for us!

Not long ago, I gave some friends of mine a little bottle of holy water as a present on the anniversary of their son’s (my Godson’s) baptism. They said they appreciated the gift, but looked at me blankly as to what to do with the water. I stammered out that people use it to bless themselves and their children and that some people cook with it. I should have anticipated the question. But the truth is that I didn’t really have any good tips as to what to do with the water. And as a sacramental object, I’m sure the parents weren’t even sure how to get rid of the water. Sorry, friends!

Holy water is a confusing item. People don’t know much about it or what to do with it. The cinematic evidence shows that vampires shy away from it, but most people don’t really worry about vampires these days. Not to mention that garlic is usually available, even in non-Catholic homes. So what else do people do with it?

Catholic churches have the little bowls just inside the doors to the nave—sometimes on the wall (like in the photo to the left), or sometimes on a pedestal, or sometimes (and IMHO, regrettably) in a pool the size of a Jacuzzi tub.

Catholics dip their fingers into the water and use the wet fingers to make the sign of the cross. Growing up, I was told that it was to “remind us of our baptism”. A phrase like that doesn’t make much sense to the modern Cradle-Catholic, since we were baptized as infants before we can actually remember the event. But I think that the phrase “remind us of our baptism” should be understood in the old Hebrew sense of the words, where remembering isn’t an intellectual activity as much as it’s an emotional one—I think we’re to remember with our hearts rather than our heads.

In baptism, our sins (even our original sin) is washed from our soul. Catholics (like most mainstream Protestant denominations) profess one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, which means that we only receive that sacrament one time. After that, it’s up to us to keep our souls as clean as possible. Remember your baptism– that may be as holy as you’ll ever be again!

Some people also splash a little water on the ground for the poor souls in Purgatory. I started doing this a couple years ago, hoping that it would bring souls closer to Christ in Heaven. But it’s also been a weekly reminder that I will also face my end one day, and when I do, I should be ready for it.

Most churches have a supply tank of holy water somewhere in the building where people can take a little home with them. The indispensable website Fisheaters has a suggestion for how to turn a liquor bottle into a to-go container for holy water, but I think their suggestion is a little hokey. I’ve read about people who reuse pickle jars, people who recycle 5-gallon buckets (!), and people who buy little plastic bottles in Catholic bookstores for the purpose. I use a repurposed white-wine-vinegar bottle because it’s got a shaker top that makes sprinkling easier.

At home, people use it for a variety of things. My mother has these little ceramic basins in a few rooms of my folks’ house that are supposed to be filled with holy water. In all the years that I’ve seen them hanging there, I’ve never actually seen them filled with a drop of water, but it is not uncommon for Catholic families to have a little font by their front door so the family can bless themselves as they go out into the world, or in each bedroom so people can bless themselves as part of their nightly prayers.

It’s not uncommon to put a few splashes of holy water into the saucepot when you’re cooking the family meal, though I admit that I’ve never done this myself. I use a little holy water here and there around the house when I’m cleaning. I sprinkle a little in the bedroom, that each night I remember the blessings of the day; I sprinkle a little at my desk in our home-office, that my work is a blessing to the Lord and to his people; I sprinkle a little in the kitchen, that God will bless our food for the nourishment of our bodies and the sustenance of our souls.

I sprinkle a little holy water in our vegetable garden from time to time, praying that we never go hungry. I sprinkle a little in the flowerbed by the front door, that God’s blessings always give us a happy return home. Every now and then, I sprinkle a little bit on the dog—a blessing he doesn’t seem to appreciate for some reason.

Parents often sprinkle a little holy water on their children’s heads at night, that God would bless them with happy and holy lives. Parents might sprinkle a little holy water on their children to see if it cuts their skin—as a test of whether or not the kids are little demons after all.

I bet that parents of 2-year-olds go through a LOT of holy water.

There’s nothing magical about the stuff though. Holy water is a “sacramental” of the Catholic Church, which means that it’s a religious tool; it is a sacred sign that signifies effects obtained through the Church’s intercession. Like all sacramentals, they are worthless without the prayers of the church and user, and totally worthless if they do not ultimately point to Jesus Christ. They are tangible ways of asking the Lord to bless us. Sacramentals are devices to bring us closer to the Lord, to repel the devil and his ilk, and to prepare our souls for God’s grace—but they are not magical talismans. They (like us) are nothing without God.

My parish has a stainless steel holy water tank like the one pictured to the right tucked back in the side door of the sacristy. I think that for a lot of people, finding an industrial-looking can (that bears a strange resemblance to a restaurant stock-pot) kind of spoils some illusion of where holy water comes from. I think people assume that there’s some gold-plated natural spring under the sanctuary altar. Alas, there is not. Holy water is usually just tap water with salt added to it, then fortified with the prayers of a priest.

The salt it, ostensibly, to keep the water from going sour from sitting around. But glancing into the dishes by the church door, you can see that there’s often a little funk in the water. I choose not to let that funk bother me, but it’s kind of icky. At home, you can dispose of sour holy water the same way you’d dispose of any sacramental: by returning it to the earth. I don’t wear a scapular, but people who do tell me that they wear out after regular wear—so people dig a little hole and bury the scapular. Holy water probably doesn’t need a hole dug unless your lawn is paved, just pour it into the earth to dispose of it.

In any way, that’s the gig with holy water. I recommend that people keep a little bottle in their house and bless themselves with it from time to time.

Other resources:
The Catechism of the Catholic Church: Sacramentals
Angelus magazine, July 1986, reprinted on catholictradition.org: Holy Water a Means of Spiritual Wealth
Catholic Encyclopedia: Sacramentals
Catholic Encyclopedia: Holy Water
Fisheaters: Introduction to Sacramentals
Fisheaters: Holy Water

Hello! Did you think I forgot about you, gentle reader? Rest assured; I did not.

My attention has been divided lately while embarking on a new career and vocation. And I hope you’ll excuse my absence. I’ve been pouring pretty much all of my time into that effort.

WhollyRoaminCatholic.com has been a (sporadic) project of mine since early 2008, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it will always be a sporadic project. I’ve had blogs of one form or another pretty much since 2001. When blogger.com came out with their blogging software, I was among the earliest people on planet earth to use their tool (member #189 if I recall correctly). Over the years, I’ve learned all the right ways to build readership through short, poignant regular posting; I’ve learned how to write creatively and personally, well punctuated with clever graphics and interesting links. And back when the Google Empire was just a honest tool with spiders who didn’t take money for page placement, I used to have a fair amount of Google ‘cred.

And despite all the evidence that nothing builds readership and a valuable website like frequent posting— I have to admit that I don’t think this site will ever be a regularly updated website.

Sorry to disappoint, gentle reader.

If you like this site and check it every day, then the chances are that you’re going to be disappointed most days. My best advice is that you add the RSS feed to your feed reader (after all these years in the internets, I just learned how to use a reader about 2 weeks ago). Or if you’re a person who uses the Twitter, you can add @WhollyRoamin to your list of people that you follow. I don’t Tweet my Twitter very much and keep it as a tool to promote this site, so I promise that I won’t clog your Twitter feed with pictures of my lunch or updates about the price of gasoline. I keep it focused on the business of WhollyRoaminCatholic.com.

Still, I resolve to post more on this site. It’s my goal to help Catholics be better Catholics to the best of my ability, and one part of this goal is to write lengthy posts with clumsy grammar. St. Lawrence is the patron of this blog, and through his intercession, I hope to be steadfast in serving Christ and the Church.

St. Lawrence, pray for us!