The Religious and the Excremental: Holy Sh*t

Melissa Mohr seems to have hit the jackpot with her new book Holy Sh*t:  A Brief History of Swearing.  Right at the offset, she pulls in a generous five stars on Amazon for her exhaustive compendium of trash talk, in which she chronicles the history of vulgarity regarding human sexual organs and various human excreta.

I DON’T GET IT.

Operating on the theme of “So many books, so little time”, I can’t see spending another quarter-hour immersed in the analysis of obscenity in the Renaissance and the return to euphemism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.  I have no urge to know the full range of Roman cusswords.  I am troubled by Mohr’s assertion—confirmed in my own experience on-line and in the checkout lane at Wal-Mart—that the twentieth century has seen the normalization of swearing, and then doubled down in a verbal challenge to human dignity and respect.

But why, I wondered—why am I reading all of this jibber-jabber about masculine organs when I’ve never read Desiderata or most of the Graham Greene novels?

Why, I ask further, would an otherwise cultured person debase himself to reveal his raw sexual urges when we’ve barely spoken until this moment?

One part of the book, though, caught my attention.  According to an article about Mohr’s work in The Detroit News, most children learn how to swear before they even know the alphabet.

And just how does little Jimmy learn these attention-grabbing epithets before he can scream “L-M-N-O-P”?  Well, Junior repeats what he hears; and according to the Daily Mail, English-speakers actually use a curse word about once every 140 words.  That, the article notes, makes foul language as common as a first person plural pronoun.  The frequency of swear words, coupled with adults’ elevated voices and shocked expressions, must confirm for young ears and eyes the importance of these maledictions.  Cursing, Mohr explains, usually kicks off at the tender age of three or four.

It’s unrealistic to imagine a return to a moralistic society in which moviegoers are shocked and cover their children’s ears when Rhett Butler snarls at the pitiable Scarlet O’Hara, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”  Disc jockeys no longer back-mask the lyrics to a song, and the ‘60s hit single “Louie Louie” is pablum when stacked alongside Metallica or much of contemporary music.

But isn’t it a parent’s responsibility to safeguard their children’s minds, at least for a few formative years at the beginning of life—imparting a sense of decorum, teaching and requiring good manners, and avoiding the common vulgarities which speckle the American vernacular?

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Another book which hit the scene in 2009 was L’hostie, une passion québécoise by Olivier Bauer, a professor in Université de Montréal’s faculty of theology and religions, a native of Switzerland who moved to Quebec in 2006.  The National Post explains:

The book details the evolving role of the Host in Quebec, from the first celebration of a Catholic Mass in New France in 1535 through its emergence as the “king of swear words” in the 20th century. Among his resource material is a lengthy 1982 report on swearing for the Office québécois de la langue française, Quebec’s language watchdog. It found that ostie was the preferred swear word of young women (their elders preferred câlice) and all ages of men. The study also noted that 20 years after the beginning of the Quiet Revolution, 94% of teenagers still considered it a swear word. The future of ostie as a go-to curse seemed assured.

In Quebec, Professor Bauer found, it was not ignoble bodily functions that captured the popular imagination; rather, most of the common words in Quebec’s vocabulary of curses were religious words:  esprit [spirit], sacrament and baptême [baptism] ostie [Host], calvaire [Calvary], criss [from Christ], câlice [chalice] and tabarnak [tabernacle].  Bauer notes that the impact of some of these words is gradually falling, but that the media help to keep them alive in common usage.

Interestingly, the real story—according to the National Post—is not that these words which refer to sacred objects are used in a base and derogatory sense, but that they may be losing their impact in a secularized society.  If religious belief is no longer important in French-Canadian society, then these swear words based on faith have ceased to offend because, after all, Who cares?

How to Make a Baby (Well, Sorta….)

This is one of those cute little Internet memes that are forwarded via Facebook and email—but it was so cute, I just had to join the party.

Canadian photographer Patrice Laroche and his wife, Sandra Denis, created this hilarious photo story titled “How to Make a Baby.”  The creative couple visited the same car wash over and over during Sandra’s pregnancy, wearing the same clothes and taking pictures as Sandra’s belly expanded.

New mothers will appreciate that feeling that one’s belly is about to explode.  In this case, that really happens—and the next minute, the happy parents are cuddling their newborn, wrapped in a leather jacket.

Deacon Farmer Serves Up Pumpkins, Pies and Prayer

“I carve prayers in the pumpkins when they’re small,” says Sharon Trabbic, “and as they grow, the prayers grow as well.”

Deacon Ken Trabbic and his wife Sharon are the owners/operators of the Trabbic Family Farm, where they produce over 20 acres of pumpkins as well as wheat, field corn, sweet corn, soybeans and hay.  The farm has been in the Trabbic family for over 100 years; and the Trabbics write on their website about how they decided to establish the pumpkin patch:

“After praying and asking God what we should do on the farm as we raise our children, the thought of pumpkins came to rest on our hearts.  This year will be our 21st year with the pumpkin patch.  It has been an enjoyable experience of sharing in the lives of all those who visit the farm.”

Ken and Sharon spoke to our diaconate formation group about their unique ministry when my husband was preparing for ordination, a number of years ago.  I remember a particularly poignant story which Sharon told, about a woman who found a pumpkin out in the field carved with the message “Pray to End Abortion.”  The woman approached Sharon angrily and said, “My daughter is pregnant, and I certainly don’t want her life to be ruined by a baby!”  Sharon stopped her work and talked with the woman:  praying with her, offering alternatives to abortion, explaining the Church’s loving message about the sacredness of life.  Sharon had no idea of the outcome; but the following year, the woman again visited the pumpkin patch—this time bringing her daughter and her new grandchild—and personally thanked Sharon for her kindness and for helping her to decide in favor of Life.

Besides impromptu abortion counseling, Trabbic Farm offers all the standard kid-friendly activities you’d expect to find on an autumn excursion:  hayrides, pony rides, a straw bale maze and a corn maze, and a three-car pumpkin train with rotating pumpkin-shaped cars.  There’s also a petting zoo with squealing pigs, bunnies with wiggly noses, and plenty of farm animals to delight the city kids.  And of course, fields of ripe pumpkins.

There’s a store where visitors can purchase pumpkin pies and apple butter, popcorn and specialty jams.  Sometimes there’s live entertainment from a local bluegrass group.

But what sets Trabbic Farm apart from other Halloween destinations is the chapel, with its religious imagery and its rustic hay bale seating.  That, and a Rosary Tree from which visitors may pick a dangling rosary to take home.

There’s still time this weekend for an excursion to Trabbic Farm.  The farm is located at 1560 Sterns Road in Erie, Michigan, just north of the Michigan-Ohio border.  Hours are 10:00 a.m. through 7:00 p.m. daily through October 31.  For more information, visit the website or call 734.848.4049.