To Tatt or Not to Tatt...Ew?

To commemorate (What a) Year for Priests, Paul Brian Campbell, S.J. has offered readers of People for Others the opportunity to ask any question they might have about priesthood. My immediate question for him was, "are you nuts?" Still, I admire his willingness to serve the PoG* this way.

Turns out I needn't have worried much because the ten questions that will be reduced to five via voting are predictable and lacking in luster, with this exception: "Is it ok to get a tattoo?"

According to my calculations, at least four people want this query to be in the final five ─ not enough to rate an entire blog post by Paul, who has nevertheless confessed an "occasional urge to get A.M.D.G. inked on [his] upper arm."

Maybe it's the factoid of being raised Jewish, but I view tattooing as something of much more interest and significance to Jews, especially those who are Torah observant. (And, ok, Christians who might be a bit too fond of quoting Leviticus.**) In other words, I have difficulty wrapping my brain around why anyone would ask a Roman Catholic priest about tattoos.

Jews of a certain generation (mine) were raised to believe getting tattooed guaranteed exclusion from a Jewish cemetery which, as it turns out, isn't true. Also, we grew up around Shoah survivors whose arms had been brutally tattooed by Nazis.

Is it ok to get a tattoo? Can a Roman Catholic priest say getting a tattoo is okay without sounding like a supersecessionist? Probably ─ if he's up on the debates among Jews on the matter.

GenY and Millennials have come up with creative interpretations of Leviticus 19:28, my faves being from Punk Torah, especially this "Ask the Alterna-Rebbe" video about body piercings and Judaism. I also recommend Monica Rozenfeld's article in Busted Halo, "Tattooed Jews" for an overview of arguments about body defilement, idolatry, and self-expression.

I was keen on "body art" for myself during the 1980s. Alas, by the time I'd decided what I might want and where I might want it, my skin had lost enough collagen to ix-nay the project. Since that sorry skin slide continues, a tattoo is not in my future, although if I had the skin tone, pain tolerance, money and time I'd want one that looks like this:



*People of God
** Especially, Leviticus 20:13

Prepping for Pentecost 2010 (Serving as Lector at the 10:00 Mass)

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Does This Dress Make Me Look...Holy?

This morning's laugh-groan-laugh and h/t to A Concord Pastor Comments whose post about First Communion Dresses appeared on my screen before I'd yet eaten.

And thank God I'd not yet taken a sip of anything. It probably would've splattered onto my screen as I read about one British retailer's promise not to "...Sell The Same Dress To Another Child At The Same Mass" (capitalization in the original).

After zooming in on that solemn vow, I noticed the politically correct gender neutral language (i.e., "child") and amused myself briefly by pondering a slew of little boys dressed in drag before smacking myself upside the head. Then, I visited another site, swallowing several times while trying to digest this overwrought ad copy which reads, in part:

"Here is an ultimate gorgeous girlie First Communion dress with distinctive sheer swirly layered skirt that twist and twirls with movement that every little girl and parent will just fall in love with."

The sentence structure snagged my attention but not for long because I became quickly entranced by the word "girlie" and the notion that having a "distinctive sheer swirly layered skirt" might have anything to do with receiving -- and being nourished by -- first Eucharist. Concord Pastor, Fr. Austin Fleming, makes a similar observation.

I, however, offer this solution to the soul-shaking, identity-challenging problem of having a distinctive girlie dress on such a special blessed day: let them wear uniforms.

I'm thinking plaid, which would probably go well with the latest translation of the Roman Missal.

*My* Life with Those Who Should Be Made Saints (I)

Looks like we have Joseph Clois Shivers, Jr. to thank for segmented copolymers (United States Patent 3044989) better known as spandex. Shivers developed this fabulous fiber in 1959, after a decade of research while employed by DuPont, which later baptized it "Lycra."

His invention soon replaced the sturdy rubber typically used in constructing undergarments (e.g., girdles). Unlike rubber, spandex is incorruptible, defying the corrosive nature of body sweat, lotions, or detergents. Lighter than rubber, spandex is blended with other fibers to make clothing that can snap back to original shape after being stretched up to 600%. These factoids give me the shivers.

Looks like Mr. Shivers has already received the coveted Olney Award for Achievement in Textile Chemistry. But does that industry-based award fully recognize his contribution to all humanity? I think not. I think he should be declared a saint. I am willing and able to give compelling testimony to affirm, so to speak, the miraculous powers of spandex.

St. Shivers! Kind of snappy, don't you think?

Polka Dots and Pearls

I'm getting ready for church. Oh what to wear on this bright, sunny, and threatening-to-hit 90 degrees third Sunday of Easter? I peer into my closet and briefly consider a flowered pencil skirt. It gets rejected immediately when I see dots flashing before my eyes.

Those dots would be polka dots. It's a no contest, no brainer. I'm going to wear black capri pants with white polka dots, black patent leather flats, and pearls.

You know how I feel about flip flops? I feel all that and more about polka dots. Polka dots look like laughter tossed against fabric; always playful even when symmetrical. They remind me of pop beads; button candy on paper.

Both button candy and pop beads were popular during the 1950s before everything became a life-threatening allergen and kids weren't allowed to choke a bit to learn a lesson. (And, didn't we Boomers turn out okay? Never mind.)

Polka dots have danced in and out of style since around 1840, although most people remember polka dots from the 1950s and again during the 1980s. In 1988, my Don't Mess dress was red with white polka dots. My kinder, gentler version was in Navy blue.

I buy clothing with polka dots whenever that fabric is in vogue and will wear polka dots even if fashion dictates otherwise. And, so what? Love polka dots. For church, I accessorize with pearl jewelry. Not only do pearls look great with polka dots, but they're appropriately reverential if you think them through to Matthew 13:45-46. Amen.

Flip Flopping Around

It hardly seems possible on this cold drear Monday morning, but I did get to wear flip flops this past weekend. Not only did I wear flip flops, but I hauled out my flip flop collection. During what I consider flip flop season, I keep all my flip flops stacked in a [large] wicker basket for handy access and retrieval.

And this weekend, as I flip flopped around the hermitage opening windows to bird song and pollen, I found myself falling in love all over again with this onomatopoeic footwear. Yes, I love flip flops, something that should be obvious, especially if you note the number of times I've used the term "flip flop" thus far. Flip flop. There it is again!

What accounts for my midlife infatuation with flip flops? Spending too many formative years wearing Buster Brown lace-up Oxfords in cordovan-colored leather is one likely explanation. Or, perhaps all the 30-something years I wore 2.5" spiked heeled power pumps to go with my power suits. Or, even the yoga years I spent traipsing around barefooted to stay grounded and non-obtrusively present in and out of the ashram.

Once I discovered them, flip flops became the obvious corrective to these life experiences; offering all the freedom of walking around without shoes with the added benefit of silly sound effects. And no, I do not wear flip flops in church. For now, I choose to leave that form of self-expression to altar servers.