Matching Tracksuits

catholicism

#15 — John Paul II

Wednesday 23 March 2011

Pope John Paul IIPoland produces a revolution every five hundred years, and it’s always the same revolution: a man comes along and challenges the way we all look at the universe, challenges us to stop thinking we’re the center of the universe and that all things circle around us.

Copernicus was the first to suggest that the Earth was not the center of the universe. He dethroned the heady notion that literally everything revolved around us, and modern science has pushed us to the point of virtual cosmic insignificance.

Karol Wojtyla, with his famous words, “Do not be afraid,” challenged us to stop thinking of ourselves as the center of our own worlds. Love is the greatest of all these, said Saint Paul, and John Paul, in his insistence on the universal recognition of human dignity and freedom, showed how to put that into practice.

“Nie lekajcie sie!”

Don’t be afraid.

Fear not.

How can we not fear? Look at the world, and the injustice that hounds it, and it seems the only thing we can do is be afraid. How can that possibly work? Perhaps when we start following John Paul’s example and love others more than ourselves, we will stop fear. After all, what is fear? It’s fear of what will happen to me. When I start loving others more, I stop thinking of my self so much, and I stop fearing.

John Paul in that sense was a Copernicus for the soul.

Excerpted from a post dated 5 April 2005.

#14 — Sacred Time

Tuesday 22 March 2011

2007 Corpus Christi procession in Lowicz, Pola...
Image via Wikipedia

Catholicism is centered around a sacred calendar, which means there is a notion of sacred time. Indeed, the whole reason I’m attempting to write daily about something positive in Catholicism is due to our being in the midst of Lent, one of several periods of the year that are juxtaposed to “ordinary time.” Additionally, sprinkled among the various holy and ordinary times are saints’ days and holy days, serving as temporal mile markers throughout the year.

Yet like many things in Catholicism, it’s not simply that there are periods of the year that are holy while others are ordinary. Time itself has a sacrality about it because of the historical nature of the religion. Christianity is based on events that happened in time, and Catholicism punctuates time with the offering of the various sacraments, but most especially through the daily Eucharist.

This heavy reliance on time gives a rhythm to Catholicism that is lacking in many forms of Protestantism. Because of the recurring holy times, a pattern emerges: Lent leads to Easter, with the Feast of Corpus Christi and a handful of other holy days  punctuating the long period leading to Advent and Christmas. And then the cycle repeats. The overall effect of this is not immediately obvious, but essentially Catholics are commemorating the story of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection on a yearly basis.

It’s no wonder Catholics use the various feast days as temporal references for memories. One thinks of the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet discussing Juliet’s age with Lady Capulet:

LADY CAPULET

Thou know’st my daughter’s of a pretty age.

Nurse

Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

LADY CAPULET

She’s not fourteen.

Nurse

I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth,–
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four–
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?

LADY CAPULET

A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse

Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.

Perhaps one reason I like this sense of temporal rhythm is that it reminds me of my youth and our church’s peculiar insistence on observing Jewish feasts. Those festivals provided a sense of continuity from year to year, something to look forward to and something to reminisce about.

Tiring of the Tiber

Monday 21 March 2011

I would imagine some are tiring of the Tiber: it’s turned into All Catholic All the Time around here. It’s simply too difficult for me to post doubly on a regular basis, and I want to keep this Lenten promise to myself. Only a few more weeks…

#13 — Steadfastness with Reasonableness

Monday 21 March 2011

Catholicism is steadfast. There are simply some things — many things — that are non-negotiable. Whether or not I agree with all of those particular positions, I admit that I admire the Church’s willingness to take stands on issues that it knows will not easily or immediately win converts and may in fact drive some people away. It doesn’t seek popularity; it seeks truth. It is, in other words, the exact opposite of contemporary politics, where compromise is everything.

Yet the Church is not unreasonable. The Church teaches abortion to be a sin so grave as to warrant immediate and automatic excommunication. However, far from being absolutist on the issue, the Church admits several reasonable exceptions:

To actually incur the excommunication one must know that it is an excommunicable offense at the time of the abortion. Canon 1323 provides that the following do not incur a sanction, those who are not yet 16, are unaware of a law, do not advert to it or are in error about its scope, were forced or had an unforeseeable accident, acted out of grave fear, or who lacked the use of reason (except culpably, as by drunkenness). Thus a woman forced by an abusive husband to have an abortion would not incur an excommunication, for instance, whereas someone culpably under the influence of drugs or alcohol would (canon 1325). (Source)

Even the excommunication for abortion is not the final response to the act the Church so consistently teaches and campaigns against. Like all sins, it is something that can be confessed and forgiven, with absolution for the excommunication.

The pro-choice response to this would likely be, “Well, the Church shouldn’t excommunicate for abortion to begin with; it’s the woman’s body and the woman’s choice.” That strikes me as more unbending, more absolute that the Church. For pro-choice advocates, the Catholic Church’s preaching against abortion is always and forever wrong, and as such unforgivable; for the Catholic Church, the purposeful ending of a pregnancy is always and forever wrong, but it is forgivable.

The Catholic Church’s reasonableness is not limited to social issues. Its theology is circumspect as well. One of the most troubling doctrines of Christianity is the existence of hell. An extreme Protestant position always struck me as unreasonable: individuals who have not heard of Jesus and his sacrifice are unquestionably condemned to the flames, thus adding great impetus to proselytization. The Catholic position is much more nuanced: it simply states that, apart from saints, humans can’t know who will be condemned and who won’t. While not a pluralistic theology (i.e., all are saved no matter what), it is much more respectful of the simple fact that it would be God, not humanity, making such decisions. It’s a frank admission of a quirky religious agnosticism.

 

#10 — Smells

Friday 18 March 2011

The camera was lent to me by my dear little br...
Image via Wikipedia

Walking into an ancient Catholic church can be overwhelming to the senses: the magnificence of the architecture, the completeness of the silence punctuated by echoing footsteps, the cool damp air on one’s skin. Yet for first time visitors, the most distinctive surprise is the odors of a church.

A mix of old incense, wood, dampness, stone, cleaning solutions, humanity, and a thousand other mysterious odors almost seduce me from the moment I first entered an historic Catholic church. The stone has been gathering the breath of believers for ages, and the natural dampness of the air activates these strong, earthy odors in the walls and floors. Incense, one of the most noticeable Catholic/Orthodox distinctive practices, lingers from Mass to Mass, mixing with the stones and damp to form a redolence that can only be described as the smell of tradition.

#9 — The Singularity of Mass

Thursday 17 March 2011

If a deacon participates, he reads the Gospel....

The first time I attended a church other than the one I grew up in, I was shocked at how utterly different the service was compared to what I was used to. When the pastor began, “Our scripture for today is…”, I immediately began wondering how in the world one could possibly have a sermon with one scripture. I was so accustomed to sermons that often amounted to an artillery barrage of verses that having a sermon with only one verses seemed like having a car with only one wheel.

As I visited other churches, I found that not only did every denomination have its own liturgy but also every single church within a denomination might have its own version. Going to churches in other countries, I imagined, might uncover even more differences.

Today, one can find a liturgy to fit whatever mood one might be in. Looking for something heavy on entertainment? Head to the nearest mega-church. Looking for a calm, quiet, predictable service? Look for Methodists or Presbyterians. Want a little danger in your worship? Seek out the few remaining snake-handling, strychnine-drinking Pentecostals in the hills of Appalachia.

The Catholic Mass, however, is different because it’s the same. No matter the country, no matter language, no matter the culture, the Mass is the same. Before Vatican II and the introduction of Mass in the vernacular, it would literally be the same wherever one went. And here’s the thing that really impresses me: it’s been that way for centuries. The Mass of today would be recognizable, more or less, to Thomas Aquinas as much as it would be to G. K. Chesterton. Certainly, the hymns would be different, and the use of the vernacular (as opposed to Latin) would probably seem odd, but the heart of the Mass itself would be comfortingly familiar to both men.

I realize I’m using broad strokes here: there are certainly minor cultural differences in the Mass, and the Catholic church isn’t the only church to achieve this liturgical homogeneity. But one thing is certain: it’s had this homogeneity longer than any other institution in the West, and there’s something to be said for an institution that can be that grounded in the past and the present.

#8 — Cathedrals

Wednesday 16 March 2011

Even those who know nothing about Catholic theology know about Catholic cathedrals. Religions in general have a way of inspiring great architecture, for sacred objects and sacred time requires sacred space. St. Peter’s, Notre Dame, Hagia Sophia, Canterbury, Chartres, Reims, St. John the Divine, Westminster Abbey, and seemingly countless others tend to be top tourist destinations even for non-believers. Everyone wanders in, looks about, and inevitably looks up — which, at least in the case of Gothic architecture, was the whole point.

Basilica of St. Mary

The scale is impressive enough, but for the faithful, cathedrals can be only grand, for they house the “body, blood, soul and divinity” of Jesus, according to the doctrine of the Real Presence. Whether one believes the doctrine or not is somewhat irrelevant: the designers, builders, and curators of the cathedrals did, and those attending services did and still do believe it. If one believes that Jesus is really present in the host (which is the heart of the doctrine of the Real Presence), then it’s only logical to build the best tabernacle imaginable to house said host.

DSC_4274

This goes a long way in answering the objection a friend from the States raised as we wandered in and out of churches in Krakow just K’s and my wedding. “How does this help anyone spiritually?” he asked. The Catholic answer is, “They weren’t built primarily for man but for God.”

DSC_4693

Whomever they were built for seems almost irrelevant when I’m standing in the middle of a soaring cathedral, wondering at the engineering required both to design and to construct such spaces.

View from the Crypt

#7 — Sacred Objects

Tuesday 15 March 2011

Breaking of the bread.
Image via Wikipedia

Among the elements that sets Catholicism apart from almost all other Christian denominations is the notion of the sacred embodied in the physical. There are a host of sacred objects in Catholicism, while Protestantism considers almost nothing on Earth sacred. Only God is sacred, say Protestants, and that was indeed one of the myriad motivations for the separation of the Protestant denominations from the Catholic church.

Having grown up in a Protestant group (though it would have never called itself “Protestant,” it was: if it’s not Eastern/Greek/Coptic/etc. Orthodox or Catholic, it’s Protestant), the notion of a sacred object was completely foreign to me. It smacked of superstition, of primitive belief that bordered on idolatry.

Websters.com defines sacred as follows:

  1. dedicated or set apart for the service or worship of a deity
  2. a : worthy of religious veneration : holy
    b : entitled to reverence and respect
  3. of or relating to religion : not secular or profane

I grew up, I suppose, with only the second definition; the first definition is more Catholic, though.

In Catholicism, one can’t help but be overwhelmed by the number of sacred objects. At the top of the list is the consecrated host, but there are numerous others: the Bible is sacred, especially the Gospels. One will notice this immediately in the how the priest handles the volume of Gospels the priest uses in the Mass reading. Yet it’s not limited to the Bible and host: the church itself, the crucifix, the vessels used in Mass, the altar itself, rosaries, statues, and icons are all in their own right sacred.

This is where the Protestant accusation of idolatry arises, especially with the use of icons and statuary. It seems to be a direct violation of the commandments.  Yet Catholics aren’t worshiping these objects (except for the consecrated host — but that’s an entirely different theological knot) and in fact condemns such as idolatry.

What I like about sacred objects is they force one out of normal routines and require a reverent thoughtfulness. In a culture in which only radical individualism seems to be sacred, such thoughtful moments are welcome.

#5 — Silence

Sunday 13 March 2011

Catholicism has silence built into it. Silence in Catholicism is everywhere. Walk into any medieval church in Europe and the silence is almost audible. It’s as if the walls and icons of the churches produce their own silence, a counterbalance to everything going on outside its walls.

The traditional Tridentine Mass has moments of silence, and that silence even made it into the Novo Ordo Mass: the priest holds the consecrated host up and is silent; he lifts the chalice of consecrated wine and is silent.

A chapel dedicated to the adoration of the Sacrament is silent.

Monks and nuns take vows of silence.

The Catholic Encyclopedia writes of three spiritual principles behind silence:

  1. As an aid to the practice of good, for we keep silence with man, in order the better to speak with God, because an unguarded tongue dissipates the soul, rendering the mind almost, if not quite, incapable of prayer. The mere abstaining from speech, without this purpose, would be that “idle silence” which St. Ambrose so strongly condemns.
  2. As a preventative of evil. Senica, quoted by Thomas a Kempis complains that “As often as I have been amongst men, I have returned less a man” (Imitation, Book I, c. 20).
  3. The practice of silence involves much self-denial and restraint, and is therefore a wholesome penance, and as such is needed by all.

Silence is indeed “needed by all,” particularly in today’s techno-world. It’s one of the great mysteries to me why so many people like the dazzle of multi-media mega-churches: these churches incorporate technology as liturgical baggage; it seems the church is to be a place of worship and contemplation that shuts out the world.

 

#4 — Location of the Pulpit

Saturday 12 March 2011

In most Protestant churches, it’s always the center of attention. Front and center, the pulpit is the center of all eyes, all ears. In mega-churches, the stage has replaced the pulpit, but on the stage, there is a lectern of some sort, making it clear the high point of the service is the pastor’s sermon.

Willow Creek Community Church

Willow Creek Community Church

Protestants sometimes suggest that Christ is not the center of the Catholic Church, but it’s hard for them to make such an argument when the pastor is the center of theirs. The sermon is the center of the church service, and so the pastor’s personality, wit, or erudition is what ultimately brings congregants to this or that church. In mega-churches, it’s often a combination of the show and the sermon.

Catholic Church in Krakow

Catholic Church in Krakow

In a Catholic church, the pulpit is always to the side. The priest’s homily is not the reason people are in attendance, and as such, the pulpit is tastefully moved to one side.

#3 — The Sacred

Friday 11 March 2011

The Papal Altar

The sacred — an idea that, in the ancient world, was an everyday reality. To be sacred is to be “consecrated: made or declared or believed to be holy.” It’s only been in the last few centuries that this notion disappeared from the everyday life of Everyman.

In a Protestant church, the idea of the sacred is almost non-existent except in a historical, Biblical milieu. The Ark of the Covenant was sacred; the showbread and the Holy of Holies were sacred; God’s name is, in some sense, sacred. But in the sense that time, space, gestures, words, or objects can be sacred, Protestantism proclaims loudly and, for its own part, definitively, “No!” Only God is sacred. Nothing on Earth is truly sacred.

The rest of the religions in the world beg to differ. And Catholicism (as well as the Orthodox East) in particular would argue that there is sacredness on Earth. Indeed, Catholicism is, in part, all about bringing that sacrality to humanity on a daily basis.

#1 — Lent

Wednesday 9 March 2011

Ashes imposed on the forehead of a Christian o...
Image via Wikipedia

Today is Ash Wednesday, and all throughout the blogosphere, people are writing about their Lenten sacrifices. I’ve decided to give Lent a try this year, but for today’s post, what I’m giving up is not as important as what I’m incorporating.

I’ve been fairly negative about religion for much of my adult life. I thought I’d make an effort to be positive about it for a change. And since, by proxy with K, the religion I know best is Christianity, specifically Catholicism, I thought I’d embark on a daily posting schedule throughout Lent focusing on the positive things I see in Catholicism. Forty days, forty things I like — even love — about it.

The logical place to start is Lent.

The act of giving up something, of making a lengthy sacrifice in one’s convenience, seems nothing but healthy. We tend to get stuck in routines, habits, and even addictions, and to take some time each year to break out of those confines forces us to look at our life from a new perspective. It highlights how some things have become so habitual that we’re only aware of them through their absence.

Lent necessitates deliberation. Imagine, for example, that one decides to give up sugar. This is a monumental undertaking in today’s processed-food world, for there’s sugar in everything unless you buy and make it fresh. Imagine that one sacrifices caffeine. Morning and afternoon habits must disappear.

Lent simply forces awareness, and in our technologically numbed culture, I can think of few things more valuable.

Orawian Time Machine

Friday 25 June 2010

We’re reliving the past in more ways than one. The promised sun disappears; plans change.

We end up visiting the outdoor ethnographic museum in Zubrzyca Gorna — for probably the fifth time.

Certainly, it was a different age altogether. Survival was at stake; comfort was an after-thought. That was what Christmas and Easter were for: a few creature comforts.

We wind through the museum, seeing how Polish highlanders kept bees in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,

 

how they made fences (theoretically without nails, but in this particular case, clearly with modern intervention),

and how they forced oil out of flax seeds long before electricity and hydraulics made the task simpler.

In many ways, such a life is enviable. Sure, no Facebook and cell phones, but the slower pace and rough, subsistence living created in everyone an appreciation for what was, and a realistic understanding of the difference between wants and needs.

A roof over one’s head, windows and doors to keep out the cold:

Things we take for granted as we reach for more and more were, at the time, the goal.

Visible headline: “Cook — after amputation of leg”

Leisure was a thing for the relatively rich. Even then, simple pleasures: reading a month-old newspaper by lamplight.

The same might be said of the soul: spirituality was not something to be squeezed in between recovering from a hang-over and watching the afternoon football game.

I used to be horribly offended at the reality of beautiful churches built in the midst of poverty. “Think how many mouths those resources could feed,” I’d say, as if the body is the only thing that needs nourishment. In the last few years, I’ve come to understand a couple of things: first, these churches were not built at the expense of the poor: usually, the rich subsidized the construction (probably with mixed motivation).

Second, these churches served to provide something of an aesthetic oasis for many. Finally, if one believes in the doctrine of the Real Presence, wouldn’t one want to create the most beautiful house possible?

More photos available at Flickr.

Critical Mass

Sunday 27 September 2009

Basilica of St. Mary

To hear Catholic Mass in one’s own language was, for centuries, impossible for the majority of Catholics. Vatican II changed all that, allowing Mass to be celebrated in the vernacular. As a result, Catholics worldwide hear the same Mass yet different sounds.

Poles in America experience a certain foreigners in the English Mass, regardless of the individuals’ fluency. This goes a long way in explaining the significance of the Polish Mass celebrated in Greenville today. A Polish priest, on loan from Polska, is stationed in Columbia, a mere hour-and-a-half from Greenville. After much persuasion, he came to a little church outside Greenville proper, and probably almost every Pole in a thirty-mile radius was there. The kids stood and knelt at the all the proper times, but being raised in the States, they didn’t know the hymns or the responses/prayers. They seemed lost. I would imagine that’s what they’re like visiting Poland as well: strangers in a land that sounds strangely familiar.

For me, it brought a smile. The first time I ever attended a Catholic Mass was in Poland, and Polish is, for me, the language of liturgy. From hearing alone, I know the prayers and formulations in Polish better than English.

Aside from the language, there are subtle and not-so-subtle differences. Poles still do the mea culpa in the Confiteor. “Moja moja, wina, moja wina, moja bardzo wielka wina,” all chant in the church, jabbing their thumb into their chest with each “moja wina.”

At the end of the Mass, he asked for a show of hands for a commitment to a monthly Polish Mass. Every hand in the church went up, including mine (after some prodding from K — I was simply absent-mindedly daydreaming about the oddity of hearing a Polish Mass after so many years).  Critical mass achieved, the priest then announced that there would, henceforth, be a monthly Polish Mass. Applause broke out, and it was then that the significance of the moment was clear. A bit of their heritage, their youth in Poland, their past given place right here in Greenville, home of Bob Jones University, one of the most virulently anti-Catholic institutions in America.

While I was living in Poland, the closest I ever got to getting a taste of my own culture was to drop into McDonald’s or watch the latest American blockbuster.

Blessing the Baskets

Saturday 11 April 2009

Blessing the Baskets

On Holy Saturday (called “Great [as in, big, important] Saturday”), Poles (and others in Eastern Europe) head to the village or neighborhood church to have baskets filled with food blessed.

Usually, the contents are some of the main ingredients of the Easter morning breakfast: eggs, sausage, etc.

In the States, we’ve always sought out churches that have this tradition. And it’s almost exclusively Poles who attend.

Today was no different. We were different, though: K and L both put on their finest Polish Highlander outfits for the service.


We had a brief photo session before the blessing. The shots with K were easy enough, but it was tough to get the Girl to sit for a moment for an individual picture.

She kept wanting to go dance on the manhole cover.

Before long, our friends had arrived, which meant the Girl’s friends had arrived: everyone was thrilled.

DSC_4833

A group picture followed, with everyone seeming to forget that we were using digital cameras: “Here, take one with mine!” “Get one with mine next!”

Before leaving, one of L’s friends had some words of wisdom to share. We’re not quite sure what he said, but it must not have been pleasant: the Girl was fussy and whiny for much of the afternoon.

She wasn’t the only one getting advice.

On returning home, K took the basket out for some pictures,

and I, with a cigar, Guinness, and Drive By Truckers in my ears while smoking meat in our barrel/smoker, felt positively conflicted.

Pilgrimage

Sunday 18 May 2008

David Heinmann, a pastoral associate of Chicago’s St. Ignatius parish church, took a trip around the world in 365 days, each day celebrating Mass in a different location. An intriguing idea, but as I read it, I kept thinking, “What a waste of resources.” It sounds like nothing more than a glorified field trip. Toward the end of the article, though, Heinmann is quoted as saying,

America doesn’t do pilgrimage because we think we’ve already arrived[ … .] We Think this is the Holy Land. In doing so we’ve lost that sense that there’s another journey that we must make, one to the center that lives in the heart of every human being.

I believe that says more about American Christianity than anything I’ve read in a long time.

Out, out!

Friday 15 February 2008

There’s a revival of the practice of exorcism in Poland.

One of the recruits is the Rev. Wieslaw Jankowski, a priest with the Institute for Studies on the Family, a counseling center outside Warsaw. He said priests at the institute realized they needed an exorcist on staff after encountering an increase in people plagued by evil.

Typical cases, he said, include people who turn away from the church and embrace New Age therapies, alternative religions or the occult. Internet addicts and yoga devotees are also at risk, he said.

“This is a service which is sorely needed,” said Jankowski, who holds a doctorate in spiritual theology. “The number of people who need help is intensifying right now.”

Jankowski cited the case of a woman who asked for a divorce days after renewing her wedding vows as part of a marriage counseling program. What was suspicious, he said, was how the wife suddenly developed a passionate hatred for her husband.

“According to what I could perceive, the devil was present and acting in an obvious way,” he said. “How else can you explain how a wife, in the space of a couple of weeks, could come to hate her own husband, a man who is a good person?”

I guess gone are the days, by and large, of attributing demon possession only to cases of people with spinning heads who spew pea soup, or at the very least, speak in tongues unknown to the victim new a husky, gravely voice. But there are still cases of Regan-esque possession:

Exorcists said the people they help can be in the grip of evil to varying degrees. Only a small fraction, they said, are completely possessed by demons — which can cause them to display inhuman strength, speak in exotic tongues, recoil in the presence of sacred objects or overpower others with a stench.

In those cases, the exorcists must confront the devil directly, using the power of the church to order it to abandon its host. More often, however, priests perform what some of them refer to as “soft exorcisms,” using prayer to rid people of evil influences that control their lives. (Washington Post)

Prayer is so much less dramatic than burning holy water, though.

What’s troubling about the article is that there is no representation of the opposing viewpoint. Not all Catholics believe that internet addiction can be cured with holy water and prayer. Not all Catholics attribute mental illness to Satan. Not all Poles think that Yoga leads to possession.

Latin Roots

Friday 13 July 2007

Last week, Pope Benedict has authorized increased use of the traditional Tridentine Mass (i.e., Mass in Latin). There are some concerns because the traditional Latin liturgy has a prayer for all Jews to be converted.

Still, others talk about “turning back the Catholic clock,” fearing that Benedict is on a mission to turn back the now-forty-year-old reforms of the Vatican II conference.

And still, others talk about the silliness of using an ancient, dead language for Mass, a language that most parishioners and probably all visitors will find unintelligible.

What to make of all this?

For all the disadvantages of using Latin, a sense of mystery is a definite advantage. Catholic theology is filled with mysteries

  • the Rosary includes meditation on “Mysteries” (their term, not mine);
  • at the end of the consecration of the host, the priest and parishioners into “the Mystery of faith.”

The candles, the architecture, the liturgical music — it’s all there to invoke a sense of the mysterium tremendum. The Latin — if parishioners understand what they’re saying — can only heighten that sense.

I have limited experience with Catholic Mass, but since K is Catholic, I do have more experience than I did ten years ago. Most of my Mass-going experience was in Poland, and when I came to the States, I found it odd to hear the liturgy in English. Odd, and demystifying.

Spanish Seafood Soup with Migas

Saturday 7 April 2007

Friday for Catholics often means no meat. Good Friday for Catholics means no meat. Period. What to do? What to cook? Seafood soup with migas.

First, the migas, because it has to sit around for a while and get soggy.

  • 1 large loaf of day-old French bread
  • 1 medium-size onion, finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/4 cup crumbled, crispy cooked bacon
  • 1/4t each, salt and pepper
  • 1/2 cup water

Cut the bread into thin, rather uneven slices. (I tore a lot of my slices up to create irregular shapes.) Then mix the bread, onion, garlic, and bacon together, spread it evenly in a pan, and sprinkle the water over it. Let it sit for at least half a hour. (Cooking it for Good Friday, though, I separated it into two different batches: one with bacon, one without.)

When you begin to fry it, you’ll need a mixture of garlic and olive oil:

  • 1/2 cup olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, crushed

Once the migas is migasizing, it’s time to start the soup.

  • 3T olive oil
  • 2 medium-size onions, diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 green pepper
  • 1 can (15 oz.) tomato puree
  • 2 bottles (8 oz. each) clam juice
  • 3/4 cup dry white wine
  • 3 1/2 cups chicken broth
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 small dried whole hot chile
  • 1/2 t each
    • ground coriander
    • dried basil
    • thyme leaves
  • 1 lemon, thinly sliced
  • 2 medium-size carrots, sliced
  • 1 1/2 pound firm-textured white fish (halibut, rockfish, sea bass, etc.)
  • 1 1/2 dozen hard-shell clams
  • 1/2 pound medium shrimp

Cook the onion, green pepper, and garlic together in olive oil. When soft, pour in tomato puree, clam juice, wine, broth, bay leaves, chile, coriander, basil, thyme, half the lemon slices, and carrots. Bring to a boil, then let simmer for about 20 minutes (until carrots are soft).

Add fish, clams, and shrimp and simmer until clams open and shrimp are pink.

Immediately after adding the fish begin to fry the migas. Brush a hot frying pan evenly with the garlic and olive oil mixutre, then spread about 1/2 cup of the migas mixture in the frying pan, pressing it down until it’s about 1/4 inch thick. Let it cook for about four minutes, then turn it. It will break apart as you flip it — it’s part of the idea, I guess.

Once the migas is brown and crisp and the calms have overcome their shyness, it’s time to serve.

It’s not for the budget-minded. The ingredients cost over $50, since all the seafood was fresh, fresh, fresh, and wild-caught. Halibut at $18 a pound and shirmp at $12 a pound does indeed add up.

But it was worth it. As a friend would say, fresh and honest.