What if God is on Social Media?

"Christ has no online presence but yours.

No blog, no Facebook post on earth but yours.

Yours are the tweets through which love touches the world.

Yours are the post through which the Gospel is spread.

Yours are the updates through which God blesses the world.

Christ has no online presence but yours."

- Sr. Rose Pacatte, FSP

     Last week, I had the blessed opportunity to present a portfolio of all my best work from my graduate studies to a prestigious board of professors and doctors of Theology. As I was reviewing all of my best work, I was surprised at the common theme throughout my writing: women's role in the Catholic Church. Women, in general, have been the spotlight in almost every recent big news coverage. Feminism has been given plenty of new definitions and yet, there are still a plethora of women who are still struggling to find their place in it all. I am a millennial, I am part of the Social Media generation, and I am a firsthand witness to the brokenness of the world.
     In discussing this common theme, I was ask by the board to consider, given all that I have learned, discovered and researched, how faith informs culture and vice versa. In reflecting on this, I found myself writing away at how faith can heal and reconcile the brokenness of the world. I focused on my role as Campus Minister at an all girls' school and the conversations I often am privy, too. Students express brokenness of all kinds, sometimes without even recognizing themselves doing so. My students are stressed out by the world of academia, they feel extreme pressures to perform according to unwritten codes of Instagram and Visco, they are inundated with standards presented to them by the media, they are constantly told what they should be like, not appreciated for the truth of what they already are like. The truth is, their experience of culture is very broken. And so the experience of faith, which I can give to them via retreats, Liturgies, Sacramental opportunities and more, play a huge part in the beginning of repairing the effects of that brokenness in their lives. I know this because they express this to me.
     As I look back, I am critical of my response. I only chose to defend how faith can inform culture, specifically through the lens of reparation, reconciliation and healing. At the end of my presentation, one of my professors encouraged me to consider how culture might inform faith in the same way, especially given the fact that the entirety of my presentation focused on women's role in the Church. I have been thinking of this challenge to consider faith's brokenness and how culture might influence it. I have also been side by side considering what is happening in our secular world today, especially for women. Should these topics be compartmentalized or rather, can they even be separated from one another. As a human being who is both woman and Catholic, I feel torn. And yet, perhaps I should be uplifted.

       In addition to these thoughts rattling around in my brain and my making sense of them, I attended the annual Edith Stein Lecture at my alma mater, Immaculata University. This lecture has been taking place over a number of years and each year, I feel my faith being stretched in beautiful ways. Last night's topic was "Faith and Social Media," and the speaker was a Daughter of Saint Paul, S. Rose Pacatte. She approached the topic, not as a non-millennial whose life is seemingly disrupted by the use of Social Media, as many who came before me are. But rather, she focused on how one could utilize Social Media to spread the Gospel. It was then that I started to connect the dots. Catholicism and those in the older generations have contributed the brokenness of culture to the constant use of Social Media. Students don't speak to one another, there's not place for Social Media during Mass and because of this, Social Media has contributed highly, if not wholly, to the complete disarray of our world. One could use many examples to back up this theory. And yet, while she did not say it, as S. Rose was speaking, I felt that she very easily could have said that faith is broken, just as much as culture.
     It may be controversial to say, but from my personal perspective, I can very easily see the brokenness of my faith. I have seen and am still seeing many of my peers leaving the church. They say there is no room for women in the Church. They question how one can continue to be a faithful Catholic in light of the sexual abuse scandal. They express concern for how millennials can practice a faith that seems to have nothing to support their experience of culture. I hear them. I see exactly what they say. And yet, if my faith hadn't saved me from the brokenness of our culture when it did, I would be in the same position. But I am not. When I say I am Catholic, others wonder how I can still be one. When I say I am a feminist, others have painted a picture of me that certainly does not line up with my Catholic faith. When I say I am a Catholic feminist, others roll their eyes in confusion - how can I be both?
     Faith, as I have said, was integral in my filtering of culture. It allowed me to heal the confusion within: when faith tells me one thing and culture says another, which do I choose? Faith gave me the hope that there is room for women theologians, for deeper women's spirituality, for women's involvement in the rearing of Mother Church. Faith gave me the understanding I would need to accept culture for the goodness it had but also to disregard its evil. So now, here I am on the flip-side. I am not blind to the brokenness I see inside my own faith structure; I am more privy to it because I am within. But I am also outside of the faith, when I view the untruths of secular culture. So is there a place for me? And is there a place for Social Media to heal our broken faith? Last night's lecture told me yes. More than ever before there is a place.
     S. Rose quoted her community's founder and said, "if the Church is not there, we do not exist" in reference to Social Media. I have never been bashful about posting my Catholic practices on Social Media, I mean honestly, I've had this blog for what seems like one hundred years. But most people my age are not reading blogs. They are viewing images on Instagram and content on Facebook. In my humble opinion, Twitter is basically dead and if not, will be by the end of this presidency (no one cares that much). I have often "checked in" at church (because, yes Dad, I am still attending weekly Mass). I have posted uplifting messages in support of peers who are going through a hard time. I have shared posts by my home parish, by religious communities or by technological religious figureheads. I have re-tweeted, re-grammed and shared a billion things. Yet, is it enough. Am I only scratching the surface of allowing culture and my use of Social Media to help mend the brokenness of my faith.
     In the end, I came to the conclusion that no, I am not doing enough. I can do so much better with my posts. I have such a unique position in the sense that I love my faith, despite the Church's faults, because my experiences are much different than those who have seemingly be marginalized for a plethora of reasons. I must share the goodness of the Church and I can do it via the venues my peers use on the daily. I can use Social Media as a forum for discussion and faith-formation. I fill my instagram story with more than images of my dog and my husband (and also my baking adventures....). And the thing I think I must be better at doing is not only expressing the fact that I am praying for others, but asking publicly for prayer. I am strong, but I am also weak. I need the support as much as I can give it.
     I have no one hundred percent come to the conclusion of the relationship between faith and culture, mostly because I am living in it as it grows and changes. But I do feel as if now, culture can and should inform faith, especially via the venues of social media. As broken as our culture is, our faith is also broken. But as beautiful as our faith can be, so also can our use of social media be. Be the positive driving force today. And please, if you have the chance, prayer for me, too.

I AM WOMAN

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.

I am a free human being with an independent will."

- Charlotte Bronte, "Jane Eyre"

       I had a teacher in college that whenever talking about feminism, he would always say, "I AM WOMAN," in a deep voice, proclaiming in his own way, the strength of the woman. I would always laugh and think, well real ladies would never use a deep manly voice. She would use her dainty, lady voice and say, "Well yes, sir, I do appear to be a bit stronger than you." Today, on my adventure with my best friend, I could not stop thinking about Mr. Mooney saying, "I AM WOMAN." In fact, I may have even said it a few times myself. If there's anything that feels mighty liberating as a woman, it's being able to lift two kayaks out of the water and into a truck that I just backed down the ramp. Say what? Yes, I did that.

     I've been reading a book titled, "Rose Under Fire." This book is a companion book to another book I just finished, "Code Name Verity." Both are written by Elizabeth Wein and both are historical fiction. Now, a little bit of a back story for you before I continue. As a kid, I always loved reading historical fiction books, especially books that showcased young women as the main character. I don't know if you ever heard of the Dear America series, but I thrived on those. Each were a diary form book written by a young girl during a historical time period. Now, flash forward to present day me searching in the book store for a casual Young Adult Literature book to read on vacation. As Sister Marcille taught me, I went after the book that had the Printz Award label on the front. Turns out, it was a historical fiction book. I knew I would love it, so I bought the companion book, too. I just started the second book Thursday...I'm almost done. 

     When I first picked up the books, I thought, oh good, another historical fiction during the WWII time era; one I personally love studying. As I got started, however, I realized I was reading about quite a few hipster ladies. By that, I mean, young women who were breaking stereotypes left and right by doing amazing things. One was a Special Orders Pilot...imagine, a woman pilot, especially during that time period. Of course, her best friend was a spy and interrogator. I fell in love with the characters who not only stayed true to the characterization of women at the time, but also were insanely feminist and willing to go above and beyond what women normally did. The second book also features a female pilot and describes at length the women concentration camp that still to this day doesn't have too much written about it. It describes in insane detail the strength of thousands of women. I felt as if these women were my comrades, my fellow strong women. Of course, there was one scene that struck me in particular that I felt extremely connected with. 

     The scene takes place toward the beginning of the story when Rose, the female pilot, gets trapped between two German fighter planes. She eventually is requested to follow the fighter planes to a German airfield; she has become a POW in the air. When she lands the plane and is asked to remove herself from the aircraft, she steps out of the pilots seat, but still has her helmet on. They order her to take her helmet off and a stream of curly brown hair falls out from underneath. The men's mouths gape open and suddenly they are saluting her and clapping for her; she fielded an excellent landing. Of course, there is much irony in this scene. The young woman, first of all is a POW and an American one at that. These mean saluting her were German airmen. At first I thought, well good for her to get such a response to landing that plane. But then I thought, if it had been a man pilot, they wouldn't have done that. What made her landing so special other than the fact that she was a woman pilot?! Nothing. As absurd as it was, the scene struck accord with me.

      You see, so often I am mistaken for a weak person. People always offer to help me carry things and stuff like that. Sometimes I think it's because I am little; a whopping five foot. But other times, I think it's probably because I am a woman. Today, like I said before, my best friend and I went kayaking in the river. Imagine the scene: two young women riding high in a Ford pick-up truck with two kayaks in the bed. First of all, a little lady is driving the truck. Second of all, she's going to have to get those kayaks out of the back of the truck. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could already see the crowd of men staring at me. Yes, boys, I had just hopped out of the cab of this truck. Now, look away. I knew they were anxiously waiting to see how I would approach getting the kayaks out of the bed of the truck. Shocking to admit, but I did it with no problem. Of course, my best friend was there to get her kayak out of the bed of the truck, too. What a sight to behold, two ladies carrying kayaks down the river. 

     I started to laugh at the absurdity. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal that we had just done that. However, the end of the craziness was no where in sight. As we were pulling the kayaks down the river to put in a bit further away from all the mud, an older gentleman stopped us. He asked if I had ever put in there before. I answered yes. He then told me that I should be careful because the tide was changing soon. Shocking, but I knew this to be true. Of course, he mentioned a few more river facts, all of which I knew. And as I nodded my head, he seemed to get more and more shocked. I wasn't sure why actually, but later it hit me. I'm a lady. He was a kind man, but he definitely thought we had no idea what we were doing. I thanked him for his conversation and we were on our merry way. 

     We enjoyed a paddle down stream and soon decided to head back. There were a lot of boats and jetskis out enjoying the Summer's last hoorah and so we often had to stop and change direction so we didn't tip. As we headed back, the river current got rougher and rougher and it was getting harder and harder to paddle back. Going against the current is the worst BUT it does build muscle mass. It was difficult but we continued. Suddenly, Mary Kate noticed some "fog" up ahead. Ironically, however, it wasn't fog, it was a downpour. We paddled for cover (because the last thing you want is a kayak filled with rain water) and took refuge under some kind peoples' dock. We made a video and then decided to head back out. We were only about half a mile away from where we put in. 

     The rain ceased as we paddled and the river current was much calmer, thus, easier for us to paddle. The boat ramp was in sight and the tide was coming in, so there would be much less mud to plow through. Of course, as we neared the boat ramp, another downpour. We laughed and this time, kept going. We were so close. We decided to take pictures, too, when we landed, because it was, after all, a monumental moment. There was one guy fishing who was enjoying the moment by laughing at us, but that soon changed when we hauled the kayaks up the ramp a bit. You see, it appeared that I was going to leave them there. But that was not the case. 

     I ran, still in the rain, to the truck, hopped up in the cab and reversed so I could turn around. Then I backed the truck down the ramp so that the two of use could swing the kayaks in the back and head home. We actually gained the attention of many as we did this quickly and efficiently. I smiled and laughed. As we drove home, I said, "Nothing is more liberating to me than being able to do things that people think women can't do...like handle her own kayak and drive a truck." My best friend just laughed.

     I am a feminist and often, I find it hilarious that women are always underestimated. Yes, I believe that there is such a feministic beauty in being genuine, caring, motherly, gentle. Those are the characteristics that make me a woman. But what also makes me a woman is my strength, both emotional and physical. To put things in perspective...my kayak weighs about 60 pounds. That's about the size of a toddler. Both of these facts enhances my feminism. As a woman, I may be expected to take care of children, babies and toddlers. I may be expected to pick them up and coo over them. Don't get me wrong, I loooooooove doing that. I love children and child-rearing is an amazing beauty all in it's own. But, if my toddler weighs 60 pounds, then why, when I pick up a kayak weighing about the same, is it a shock to everyone around. People, get a grip, I want to say. I don't, of course, because I'm a lady. I simply smile and behind my smile, I say, "Now, let me see you do that."

     I felt proud to be a lady today. Every day, I proud to be a woman, but today I felt especially proud. It wasn't that I already knew the things that our older man friend was telling us about the river. No, it wasn't because my Daddy had already taught me these things. And it wasn't that I got to drive Daddy's truck either (seriously...I NEED one of my own though). I learned to drive in that monster, so that was just taking the truck for a spin. And it actually wasn't the fact that my best friend and I paddled against the current in the pouring rain. That was just fun. What made me super proud was that all those strong men who were shocked when a lady hopped out of the cab of a pick-up truck and watched me as I lifted the kayaks out of the bed with ease, didn't offer an ounce of help. Now while that might make a few people upset (how dare they not help a damsel in distress), I enjoyed it. Why? Because they watched, they were shocked and they didn't offer help, because they knew I could do it. 

     I'm not always a radical feminist, but when I am, I lift kayaks out of trucks and paddle against the current in the pouring rain. Now I can't wait to see people's reactions when I do that as a nun. In the words of Mr. Mooney, "I AM WOMAN."

Like A Girl

"By watching her, I began to think that there must 

be some sort of special skill involved in being a girl."

- Harper Lee, "To Kill A Mockingbird"

  On occasion, when I surfing the net (does anyone actually say that anymore?!), I come across some severely influential videos or articles. I think of it as my means to broaden my brain. You know, read or watch something that helps you learn something new or ignite a fire within. While I prefer to learn through oodles and oodles of books, I do enjoy the occasion learning experience online. The best part is when it comes across my computer screen on social media. That means someone else engaged in some learning as well and felt he or she should share the knowledge. That's what happened yesterday when I stumbled across a video about what it means to do things "like a girl."

    Believe it or not, I was blown away. I didn't know that running like a girl meant running with her arms flopping around and her feet seeming dainty. I didn't know that doing things like a girl meant being afraid to get her hands dirty or disturb her perfectly painted face or mess up her hair. I didn't know that doing things like a girl was demeaning and wrong. I didn't know because well, I guess I never read anything that told me doing things like a girl was wrong. In fact, all my information always said that doing things like a girl was good...because well, girls SHOULD do things like girls. However, I watched a video the other day that told me that according to most adults, "like a girl" is an insult. But what the video also told me was that young girls believed that doing things "like a girl" meant doing things with all they had within them, like running as fast as she can, fighting with all of her will power, being as strong as she can be. And here, I thought it would be the opposite. 

     Watching this video reminded me of a conversation I had with my CREW girls in the car on the way to the beach for the day last week. I was sitting shotgun to help Sister Mary Anthony with directions and also playing DJ. At some point in our very long winded conversations, the concept of feminism came up. Aside from Jesus and literature, it's my favorite topic (although, I like to think they are all intertwined with one another). I like to think about the evolution of feminism, how it began, how it progressed, how it changed dramatically and where it is today. Sometimes I venture out and say radical, crazy things like, "Mary was one of the first feminists," "St. Teresa of Avila was a feminist," and of course, "I'm a raging feminist down inside." Usually this gets insane, crazy looks. Mary, the Mother of God, was a feminist? St. Teresa of Avila was a feminist? She was a cloistered nun. You're a feminist? Yes. These are often things I hear when I add my two cents. 

     When I was talking with the girls, we talked about feminism. The feminist movement came about during the Women's Suffrage movement. Women like Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton (names I haven't forgotten since my grade school days) fought long and hard for my right to vote. Of course, this was a great thing and I never forget to exercise that right. We spoke about how to feminist movement changed from fighting for rights to fighting to be treated equally to men to be treated as womanly men. The fight of feminism these days seems that all women want is equality with men. In my own personal study, however, I see that men and women were NOT meant to be entirely equal. Yes, each are meant to have their own political, social and economic equal rights. But women, instead of fighting to be treated just like the men, should be fighting to be respected as women, the lovely ladies that they are. 

     I've said it a million times and wrote about just as much, but here's the view of  feminism that was present in the van among the women ages 14-40: feminism is relishing in the beauty that is woman. It is believing in your womanhood, embracing the awesomeness that is maternal instinct and child-rearing, loving the curves and the edges, loving the natural skinniness. It's not about being the superior woman, but rather being the respected woman. It is demanding the respect of men and not presenting oneself as an object to be claimed but rather a lady to be loved. Being a feminist is embracing all things woman and loving it. Oh yeah...stand in front of that mirror and tell yourself how lovely you look when you first wake up (yes, even before coffee), when you dress up really fine for that fancy date, or dress in shorts and a t-shirt for a day of hiking, or with your sisters, mom, grandmother, aunt, daughters, nieces. It's being a beautifully, strong lady. But trust me when I say, there's not much you have to do to be beautiful and strong. All you have to do is be yourself. So next time you hear someone say, you do something "like a girl," take it as a compliment; because YOU ARE A GIRL AND YOU SHOULD BE DOING THINGS LIKE A GIRL. That's always been my response to every, "like a girl." THANK YOU, I AM A GIRL. Be proud, ladies, be proud.