From time to time, I contemplate life on paper. Writing
‘exorcises my demons’ by letting my emotions run in a safe space,
indulges my humorous sense of the absurd, and gives final form to my
thoughts. I write so that I can move on.
I am old enough to remember Big Chief tablets and fat pencils,
handwriting exercises intended to improve my script, the ‘blue books’ we
used for writing examinations (utilizing my flowing handwriting) and
calligraphy
a' la quill pen and inkwell. This last was taught in an effort to "preserve an ancient art." (I did
not live prior to the invention of the printing press!)
Through the years, I cut my teeth on DOS, WordStar and Lotus.
Admittedly, I struggled with the new ways and the old ways until, at
long last, the typewriter became obsolete.
Of course the information superhighway arrived on the scene,
and the progress of computer technology, along with the evolution of the
computer itself and all its appendages, gizmos and ‘must haves’ nearly
exceeds the speed of light. It certainly exceeds the speed of my brain
which, left to its own devices, would still be happily ensconced in
WordStar. But I am almost current now that I have Windows 95 and Word.
Because my son is extremely adept at understanding computers
(and making them do whatever it is he wants them to do) my computer and
appurtenant equipment move from old to new via Dr. Frankenstein. My son
understands that his mother does
not want to know
how he does these things or how the computer works. When I push the
ON
switch, it should work. With software, though, I will experiment for
hours and hours. Hand me a manual and it will end up in a drawer. Push
the
ON button and let the software teach me… I am happy. I have two hard drives and the Internet. What more could I need?
From time to time I also contemplate my Catholicism, or what is
left of my Catholicism. In all fairness, my Catholicism is mixed in
with my Episcopal forebears; I choose to believe I got the best of both.
I am old enough to remember holy cards with gilt edges,
scapulars and medals of assorted ilk, incense, nuns who wore long black
dresses, the rules about patent leather shoes and wearing slips with
zippers in them under my navy blue pleated uniform skirt and my light
blue blouse. I remember holy water, Benediction with incense and chants,
relics, statues, JMJ letterhead and what it meant to be a Third Order
Oblate. I remember all of the
Baltimore Catechisms (1942 through
1954). I can tell you about most of the virgin-martyrs, the movie and
book Indexes, retreats that scared any evident demons out of me, and
daily Mass.
The only difference between myself and any other Catholic
raised in the 40’s and early 50’s is that my Catholicism came to me
through French and Latin, while my Episcopal heritage was in English,
King James,
Rite I version. In short, I was an Episcopalian in a Roman Catholic
all-girls French finishing school run by European nuns. I was there from
Kindergarten through Grade 12. Ten years of that time I was an
Episcopalian who wanted to be a Catholic. The last two years I was a
Catholic. Then I went out into the world and learned about the reality
of life. I lasted, as a Catholic, until I was about 24.
I walked away, due to my failed first marriage and my intent to
marry again. I walked away, because I believed myself ‘excommunicated’
by Rome or whatever entity and/or ‘rumor’ excommunicated people back in
those days. The Episcopalians asked that we go marry elsewhere and then
come back to them. "Boggle!," I said to both denominations, and I
‘excommunicated’ them from me.
Suffice it to say that I spent many years as wife and mother of
three children. I was busy, happy, immersed in mothering and growing up
along with the kids. But I avoided church and I buried all of my
treasured memories way down deep. Occasionally I would contemplate them,
in the silence of my heart. In 1975 the voice that lives in my head
(which of course is God, by any of His names) said, "Come home!"
So I surfaced into the world of religion. In the course of time
I discovered that Vatican II had occurred, that there were no more
Baltimore Catechisms,
that there was a "Dutch Underground," that the Latin Mass was gone, and
finally, that Episcopal churches more closely resembled my old
Catholicism than the new Catholicism did. I devoured the
Articles of Vatican II in its entirety and I kept hearing "conscience, conscience, conscience."
Light, I decided, Pope John XXIII had used Vatican II to share
the light. My heart sang (in Latin, of course, and it didn't really
sing, it chanted):
Magnificat anima mea Dominum… [My soul magnifies the Lord... (Luke 1:46)]
But not so, not so! Just as the original uncomplicated message
of Christianity has been boxed, broadened, defined, redefined,
underdefined, smothered, altered and amended, made lawful and unlawful,
waged wars and more wars over, made legal and illegal and, in spite of
itself, evolved into the reverse of what it was intended to be, so has
the complicated message of Vatican II been interpreted in reverse.
Yes, I tried to salvage my Catholicism and I tried to restore
my Episcopal heritage. My first marriage was successfully annulled even
though I called the procedure off twice as it was happening. My second
marriage, which by this time had produced three children and had lasted
more than 14 years, was convalidated by both denominations. The
annulment procedure and the learning experiences provided by this
procedure were devastating to me. There was no evidence of the message
of the Christ anywhere, but there was a ton of evidence of church
authority. I tried very hard for another five years and finally one day,
from inside my heart and in silence, I contemplated my buried treasures
and God said, "Rest, now."
This is the year 2000. 25 years have passed (give or take one
or two) since I last ventured forth into the world of organized
religion. God suggested that it might be time to take another look.
I did. Among other encyclicals I located
Ecclesia Dei.
From there, it was an easy jump to the Latin Mass. I also located the
Pius X Society. I learned too of the changes and schisms in the
Episcopal Church. The Catholic Archdiocese in which I reside has a web
page, which I read in detail. Unfortunately, the annulment forms I found
there have not changed, not one word in 25 years.
God said, "I AM."
The joy and beauty of the Latin Mass recreated the wonderful,
mystical feelings of my youth and I thanked God for allowing me to
experience them again. In a lovely, old church (with two spires which
are not twins) my Latin came back, completely, as did my French. I could
remember and I could feel. The incense, the vigil lights, the statues,
the vestments and the words, those glorious Latin words, were unchanged.
And yet there are changes. Or perhaps I have changed. The
words, after all, are older than I am. I hear the messages in the
epistle and in the gospel but my interpretation varies so dramatically
with the words spoken in the sermon or homily that I find myself in
conflict.
I have given those entities known as ‘authority’ in organized
religion back to God. In so doing, I am free to keep my treasured
memories of my Catholic past. I am free to keep her music and her
beauty, her solemnity and her splendor and all the feelings that they
create in me. I am free to experience her mysticism. In addition, I am
free to wander through the Psalter and the Song of Songs and St. Luke.
The words I hear are mine to keep, and they are simple. I am free to
explore other religions, keeping only those values which are essential
to me. Best of all, I am free to see the love and joy of God in others.
Sunday night, when I was listening to the silence in my heart
and God revealed that every breath of life is sacrament, I again felt
Magnificat anima mea Dominum…
On Monday, determined to retain Mary’s song of glory, I dug
through several translations in four different sources to find the
English equivalent to the Latin. None of them sounded right. Even St.
Paul failed me. It is always difficult to translate feelings, even into
English, with the written word. I wonder about the Hebrews and the
original Greek and how they would sound, were I gifted enough to
understand them.
On Tuesday, determined to retain what Latin I can recall, I
began to record the words, through what is in the memory unit I call my
brain and through what I own in musical arts, onto paper. I am rusty,
but willing.
On Wednesday, having decided that the original Latin will
outlast everything else that lasts at all, I decided to go into Word and
begin my memory book.
Today, Thursday, it is painfully obvious to me that computer technology may, in time, control everything.
‘MAGNIFICAT ANIMA MEA DOMINUM’ I invoked as a title.
Word went nuts! It underlined all four words in green squiggles. When I
got that corrected, it went right back and underlined all four words in
red squiggles. Red means (usually) that a word is not recognized. I
typed every Latin word I know. I used eight single-spaced pages and I
did not punctuate or use proper paragraph format. I just wrote.
I turned on spell check and I let it run. It went through all
eight pages, word by word, and it let me have it in red and green. I
could have used the printout for Christmas wrapping paper. Slowly and
deliberately I pushed the "Add to" key. Immediately,
Dominum was recognized. Then my software
recognized
Anima, and finally, all of those words, all eight pages of Latin phrases.
I turned on my edit program and began structuring for prose and
for poetry and for something new that (I think) I invented called
‘psalming.’ Word doesn’t like ‘psalming’ but it recognizes it as a part
of the way I say things. I have taught Word some Latin, but no grammar.
It also recognizes French, and my personal dictionary is full to
capacity.
I am happy! I have God and I have His Word. I have the
Sacrament of Life to live and to share. I have what I believe to be this
world’s most magnificent love song, and in Latin. My heart invokes:
"Magnificat anima mea Dominum" and my soul, strengthened by the light, warmth, peace, joy and love that is God, hears Him in the silence.
Editor's Note: Ultimately,
Goodnow left Catholicism because she had been abused by the Church. See
her writings elsewhere on this site.
