In Search Of:
1. Some news that isn’t about Michael Jackson. I’m grateful, though, to The Anchoress for explaining the difference between an icon and an idol; I was going to write about the difference between an icon and a curiosity, with reference to Michael Jackson, but now I kind of think I don’t have to.
I was also bemused by the words of a commenter over at Spengler who’d woken up to find himself at the “religious-right-on-Michael-Jackson page.” Well, one of them. We’re really not that centralized. Anyway, I’m intrigued that anyone would say something like, “Isn’t it terrible when the kids like popular singers and dancers?” I mean, come on. Kids liked Michael Jackson in 1972. Kids liked Michael Jackson in 1984. I don’t actually know any kids who like Michael Jackson now. The kids I know just think he was a pathetic weirdo.
These kids with the common sense. What’s the world coming to?
All the more reason to pray for the poor man, though.
2. Information regarding the origins of the devotion to the Seven Sorrows of Mary, and the promises attached to it. The Visiting Graduate Student would like to know more. Two weeks ago he and my husband went on retreat together, for a weekend of silence and the Ignatian exercises sponsored by the Miles Christi priests, and he came home with one of these.
The Miles Christi order prays this rosary according to a form which differs slightly from the Servite Rosary of the Seven Sorrows, about which additional information can be found here, in what the VGS describes as a “not-very-helpful historical blurb.”
I think what he means by “not-very-helpful” is that although this blurb provides a brief history of the Servites themselves and locates this particular rosary in an historical context, it doesn’t really explain where the devotion came from, or how or by whom or to whom its promises were communicated. He would like to find out if he can.
3. Something devotional to wear around my neck. I cut my own hair, and woe betide any necklace I might be wearing on Shearing Day. I’m the kind of person who puts jewelry on and then forgets about it; a number of my necklaces and scapulars have fallen before the scythe already, but if I can just find something I like, I promise to be careful.
The last devotional item I lost to a haircut was one of these, which my teenager sniffily informed me wasn’t a real scapular (these kids with the piety), but I liked it: big things around my neck bug me, and I’m fonder of polished wood against my skin than I am of wool.
I’m thinking that this one, from Opine India, is right out: can’t sleep with all that stuff clanking around my clavicles. And it’s not devotionalwear anyway; it’s just a necklace with crosses and junk.
Not . . . really . . . me . . .
Ummmm, no.
Truly what I think I’m looking for is another one of these, except that the last one I had was smaller, wasn’t sterling silver, only cost about fifty cents, and also no longer resides with me because I went and cut my hair. You’d think I’d learn, wouldn’t you.
4. The Ugliest Church Art Contest at The Crescat. When, already? Enquiring minds, &c.
5. A Sunday as beeoooteeful as this one. At least. Wishing you happy with joy, too.
Darn this ratings machine! Jammed again! Too many items! Darn it to heck!
UPDATE: Ugliest Church Art Contest at The Crescat Starts Today. She’s taking submissions for specifically Catholic stuff, but I know we’re not alone. Even among the tasteful high-church Anglicans I have seen, among other things, a homemade statue of Jesus wearing a cope and poised at the top of a sort of floral Arc de Triomphe above the altar for Ascension Day. He didn’t stay there long; the Vicar came in muttering something about “these Spanish things,” and by the time the congregation had assembled for the evening Mass, the Lord had ascended right on out of sight. Another year we had a floral Ascension Tree, which fell flat over on its face in the middle of the Epistle. The Vicar heaved himself up out of his chair with an audible sigh, trudged across in front of the altar, bowing wearily on the way, picked up the Ascension Tree and jammed it back up against the wall, before returning to collapse with a moan into his chair. Why the Feast of the Ascension was always such a scene of affliction to him I really cannot say, but it was.
At any rate, it’s my job to be curious about pretty much everything, so if you have some non-Catholic artistic oddity to share, by all means share it with me.
Comments are visible to subscribers only. Log in or subscribe to join the conversation.
