Things St. Lawrence Never Said

In honor of today’s celebration of the Feast of St Lawrence, I decided to dig out and dust off a 2011 post from my old blog. I just love this guy. Deacon and martyr, patron saint of comedians and cooks. According to St. Ambrose, while St. Lawrence was being grilled, he told his persecutors: “This side is done – now turn and eat.” It didn’t get a ton of laughs, I bet, but his executioners probably talked about it for days. Might’ve even led to a conversion or three, who knows?

St. Lawrence probably said other things while cooking, which most likely included none of the following:

Saint lawrence martyr catholic

saint lawrence catholic martyr

saint lawrence martyr catholicsaint lawrence catholic martyr

catholic church martyr saint lawrence

saint lawrence martyr catholic church

saint lawrence martyr catholic church

Happy feast day to all those named for this great saint! Now go grill something!

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(Art: The Martyrdom of St. Lawrence, by Valentin de Buologne, 1621-22)

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PARISH REPORT: Church Serves Free Range Donuts at Coffee Hour; Attendance Skyrockets

ACMPress – LIBERTYVILLE – Mass attendance at Our Lady of Organic Goodness in downtown Libertyville has increased markedly since May of 2019, and the Welcoming and Holistic Ministry chairwoman knows the reason why.

It’s the free-range donuts being served at the 9:30 AM Mass Coffee Hour.

“We introduced free-range donuts the weekend before Memorial Day,” ministry chairwoman Kelly Flowers told ACMPress, “and ever since, we’ve seen a 42% increase in Mass attendance. It’s so exciting!”

Flowers explained that one of their parishioners, a local farmer named Cam Boocha, offered his free-range donuts to the parish at a discount. “He’d been raising them for a couple years, and he approached us when we announced a new “Farm-to-Table” sustainability initiative. It was totally providential.”

Flowers said Boocha raises two varieties: Plain and sugared. They’re fried in free trade coconut oil, with the sugared variety rolled in certified organic raw sugar.

“They’re delicious,” she said. “Very fresh, light, and you can tell they were fed natural, organic ingredients. Which makes them healthier.”

Other parishes within the diocese have asked Boocha for his donuts, but he’s been reluctant to increase production. “You can’t rush nature,” he said, “and the last thing I want to do is compromise on quality and freshness. Every other donut in the world is raised in a cramped, sterile, kitchen-y environment, designed to pump out donuts hand over fist. I prefer to take my time, let the donuts roam free before dunking them in hot, boiling oil. It’s a much more humane way to raise ’em.”

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Slut Shaming in the Adoration Chapel

Here’s a crazy story for y’all. I have an adoration hour Tuesday nights at my parish’s Perpetual Adoration chapel. This week I witnessed the saddest and bizarrest thing in my 15+ years as an adorer, and a vivid example of how *not* to Catholic.

Our chapel can comfortably accommodate 7 adorers – two rows of chairs+kneelers, with a pew along the back wall that seats three, plus kneelers. I choose either the rear left or rear right corner, if available, for my hour. This week, I nabbed the rear left seat. As is my habit, I started praying the rosary.

Several minutes later, a woman entered the chapel – we’ll name her W. She’s a semi-regular Tuesday visitor, late 50’s, staying for an hour or longer. She sat down opposite me in the back right corner.

Less that five minutes later, a mother – M – and daughter – let’s call her D – entered. I always look at who enters, this time being no exception, and I didn’t recognize them. D looked to be early teens, wearing short jean shorts (do people still call them jorts?). D sat in the front right chair, and M sat behind her. I continued saying my rosary.

Thirty seconds later, W walks up, a light jacket in her hand, and drapes it across the girl’s lap saying “Cover up – this is Jesus we’re talking about here.” She then goes back to her seat, without saying anything to M – and resumes praying.


I immediately thought “O no u dint”, quickly followed by “This won’t end well.”

Mind you, I’m focusing on my rosary and trying to not pay attention. Were D’s shorts short? They weren’t Daisy Dukes short, but they were pretty short. I wasn’t looking looking, but things get noticed, y’know? Obviously I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Still, what possessed W to think this was going to produce a positive result? I get it – modesty’s important, and is a fruit of the Holy Spirit. But kindness is too, as is gentleness. Charity as well.

Shortly thereafter, a man came into the chapel – we’ll dub him G. G sat down in front of me, unaware of the slut shaming that just went on. G isn’t super important to the story, but plays a role nonetheless.

Within five minutes, M tapped D’s shoulder, and whispered something to her, which I guessed was “Should we leave now?” D turned around, and I saw TEARS STREAMING DOWN HER FACE!!! She nodded vigorously, and upon exiting the chapel, began crying loudly. Now, I have zero daughters, so I missed out on all the joys of raising girls, but even I know the difference between Tears of Drama, and Tears of Shame. These were clearly the latter. Giant sobs, and gasps for breath. i felt terrible for the poor girl.

M returned W’s jacket, and left.

After they left, I debated whether or not to say anything. I try to rely on the Holy Spirit when it comes to confrontational situations, and this time, the answer I got was “Not now.” As if to confirm that, another woman – W2 – entered the chapel: mid-20’s or so, wearing yoga pants. Since G had no clue what had happened, discussing W’s Modesty Police brutality in front of two strangers would have been disruptive.

And no, W didn’t attempt to cover W2’s yoga pants so Jesus wouldn’t be offended. It wouldn’t have been a surprise.

With four of us in the chapel, I decided to hold my tongue. One, it was the wrong time to talk. Two, I know I would have been snarky. And three, since W and I are usually there together, a future opportunity will present itself.

But here’s the thing. W didn’t know the circumstances leading up to M and D’s visit. Maybe they had come directly after visiting a hospitalized family member. Or perhaps a family member had died, and they sought consolation. Maybe the girl had an abortion, and she sought forgiveness. Maybe they were on their way home from a barbecue or party, and popped in to say hi to Jesus. Perhaps M had forced D to come, who was already feeling hostile to the Church. Or maybe this was her first time in the chapel. My point being, let the girl pray, and when she’s done, maybe go up to her and gently explain that her style of dress could be seen as inappropriate. Or perhaps say something to M. But to shame her thirty seconds after arriving? Absolutely not.

Slut shaming in the adoration chapel – or anywhere else – is a terrible way to encourage people to stay Catholic. Even a misfit like me knows that. You’d think that’d be common sense for everyone, but you’d be surprised.

I didn’t write this to impugn W. She needs prayers as much as D (Lord, I hope she doesn’t abandon Catholicism over this). I wrote this simply to say that how we treat others matters. That our words and actions matter, and we will be held to account for each and every one. Being right can be important, but being kind is better – and if you can’t be kind, then mind your own business. Rash judgment is a sin against the 8th commandment, and for this to have occurred in an adoration chapel makes it even more terrible. Catholics can be such terrible Christians.

Instead of extending D the benefit of the doubt, W embarrassed and shamed her. D had done nothing wrong. She had come to Jesus for whatever reason, and left in tears due to the rash judgment of a fellow Catholic. And that’s the most shameful thing of all.

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PARISH REPORT: Lonely Communion Paten Hoping to Be Adopted by Tradtional Catholic Parish

ACMPress – BOSTON – The last remaining communion paten at The National Shrine of the Unending Indult continues to have hope that a traditional Catholic parish will soon adopt him.

“It’s tough, you know, sitting in a dark drawer in the sacristry,” the paten told ACMPress. “Day in, day out, being unused. I don’t know what happened to the others. There were six of us at one point. I’m the only one left.”

The paten gave a long, plaintive sigh. “I hope they found good homes. Maybe a church with an altar rail. Or an ad orientem parish. Maybe I’ll get packed up and sent to Gallup. That would be great!”

The paten couldn’t remember the last time he was used. “Gosh, it’s been years. Decades maybe. I remember being purified on the altar, and then, bam! Put back in this drawer and forgotten.”

Parish records of the whereabouts of the other patens were unavailable, but it was discovered the sanctus bells and censer had been donated to an FSSP parish in Nebraska.

“Nebraska sounds kinda nice, actually,” the paten lamented. “Can you tell Bishop Bruskewitz about me? Please?”

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Image source: Abraham via Wikimedi Commons under CC-BY-SA-4.0

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