wa sove!
"Make the sign deliberately, and with reverence, for, when you do make the Sign of the Cross, you are mystically accepting the crucifixion of your own identity. That thought should give you pause." (some catholic site)
from The Sign of the Cross
i actually do that! yes, i am a weirdo. BUT i'm not as weird as... well, just listen.
adventures in lenten rheumatology
i don't know whether to file this under medical-school or catholic-class.
long story short, i'm taking a rheumatology rotation under the tutelage of a man who was inordinately excited to observe that i wear a religious medal (mater dolorosa). why? because he is a far-right conservative catholic. dear reader, you may think you are disturbed by the evangelical takeover of these united states - but you should be thanking your lucky pagan stars that the gov't ain't run by the passion-of-christ freaks. no, really. look it up in the internets if you don't believe me.
one thing that makes me feel profoundly unsafe around this man is that i am actually the living breathing ridiculously good-looking embodiment of everything he hates and fears. no, really. look me up on the internets if you don't believe me.
a picture from the internets of me acting like, uh, satan or something
so anyway...
today dr. catholicism prescribed romans 8:28 to a patient - looked it up - and made me read it to her.
i shit you not.
after i read the verse, he interpeted it for her, and i tuned out, but figured as long as i was there, i would "read romans ten and nine," as one of my favorite gritzy old gospel songs says to do. i realized it means Romans 10:9. basically, it tells you that all you have to do is say those three little words* and you will be saved. (when i got home, i tried to make my cat say them, but she remains irredeemable and unrepentant.)
later, he stated that a patient like her (depressed, hopeless, methodist) could appreciate such treatment, but as he had told me before, "i have been reprimanded for this." then he looked sharply into my eyes and said, "the armies of satan are always at work." he turned on his heel and strode to the next exam room - looked over his shoulder at me and said, "it's spiritual warfare," knocked on the door, and entered.
brrr!
today i realized that from the mouth up, he looks like christopher walken. the thick spanish accent threw me off at first.
brrr!
but the real reason every encounter with him makes me so sick is something that lives deep inside of me - i just do not discuss my private religious beliefs or practices, ever, with anyone, if i feel i can easily avoid it. i am a big fat heretic no matter what perspective you take (although i do like to think that jesus, perpetua, and dorothy day would all have hung out with me anyway), and i have absolutely nothing to gain by revealing anything. and this is a guy who talks about religion nonstop, and he is... uh, scary. so anyway - the visceral nausea i experience every time he opens his mouth is actually an artifact of my own hang-ups. he would fit in very well at any academic or otherwise specially-privileged gathering.
yes, it's true: the problem is, i AM a hippie.
here is why you should read romans ten and nine: Si ou deklare ak bouch ou devan tout moun Jezi se Seye a, si ou kwe tout bon nan ke ou Bondye te fe l' leve soti vivan pami mo yo, wa sove. easy peasy!
beauty, eh?
*which reminds me of one of my favorite jokes from childhood:
He: Say those three little words that make me walk on air!
She: Go hang yourself.
from The Sign of the Cross
i actually do that! yes, i am a weirdo. BUT i'm not as weird as... well, just listen.
i don't know whether to file this under medical-school or catholic-class.
long story short, i'm taking a rheumatology rotation under the tutelage of a man who was inordinately excited to observe that i wear a religious medal (mater dolorosa). why? because he is a far-right conservative catholic. dear reader, you may think you are disturbed by the evangelical takeover of these united states - but you should be thanking your lucky pagan stars that the gov't ain't run by the passion-of-christ freaks. no, really. look it up in the internets if you don't believe me.
one thing that makes me feel profoundly unsafe around this man is that i am actually the living breathing ridiculously good-looking embodiment of everything he hates and fears. no, really. look me up on the internets if you don't believe me.
a picture from the internets of me acting like, uh, satan or something
so anyway...
today dr. catholicism prescribed romans 8:28 to a patient - looked it up - and made me read it to her.
i shit you not.
after i read the verse, he interpeted it for her, and i tuned out, but figured as long as i was there, i would "read romans ten and nine," as one of my favorite gritzy old gospel songs says to do. i realized it means Romans 10:9. basically, it tells you that all you have to do is say those three little words* and you will be saved. (when i got home, i tried to make my cat say them, but she remains irredeemable and unrepentant.)
later, he stated that a patient like her (depressed, hopeless, methodist) could appreciate such treatment, but as he had told me before, "i have been reprimanded for this." then he looked sharply into my eyes and said, "the armies of satan are always at work." he turned on his heel and strode to the next exam room - looked over his shoulder at me and said, "it's spiritual warfare," knocked on the door, and entered.
brrr!
today i realized that from the mouth up, he looks like christopher walken. the thick spanish accent threw me off at first.
brrr!
but the real reason every encounter with him makes me so sick is something that lives deep inside of me - i just do not discuss my private religious beliefs or practices, ever, with anyone, if i feel i can easily avoid it. i am a big fat heretic no matter what perspective you take (although i do like to think that jesus, perpetua, and dorothy day would all have hung out with me anyway), and i have absolutely nothing to gain by revealing anything. and this is a guy who talks about religion nonstop, and he is... uh, scary. so anyway - the visceral nausea i experience every time he opens his mouth is actually an artifact of my own hang-ups. he would fit in very well at any academic or otherwise specially-privileged gathering.
yes, it's true: the problem is, i AM a hippie.
here is why you should read romans ten and nine: Si ou deklare ak bouch ou devan tout moun Jezi se Seye a, si ou kwe tout bon nan ke ou Bondye te fe l' leve soti vivan pami mo yo, wa sove. easy peasy!
beauty, eh?
He: Say those three little words that make me walk on air!
She: Go hang yourself.
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