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Swimming with Scapulars: True Confessions of a Young Catholic
Meet Matthew Lickona, a thirty-something wine columnist, sometime cartoonist, avid moviegoer, fan of alternative rock, and wonderfully talented writer. He is also a devoutly religious young man (“I am a Roman Catholic, baptized as an infant and raised in the faith, a faith which holds the exemplary and redemptive suffering of Jesus Christ at its core.” ) who fasts during Lent, leads his family in prayer every day, and wears a scapular—a medieval amulet said to protect the wearer from harm.
In Lickona’s “true confessions,” we are introduced to a unique and singular voice, but one that is emblematic of a new generation of believers who combine a premodern faith with a postmodern sensibility. Swimming with Scapulars is a modern-day, Catholic, coming-of-age story that takes its author from the austere Catholicism of his Irish-French family in upstate New York to the exotic spiritual tapestry of
Southern California. It is the story of the formation of an ardent young believer who is painfully honest about his spiritual shortcomings (“In times of suffering, I look first to myself. God is the backup, to be called upon when I find myself insufficient.”), yet who finds consuming joy in receiving the Eucharist and embracing “the ancient treasures of the faith.”
Lickona doesn’t mind that many of his secular friends and acquaintances regard him as a religious fanatic. As he writes, “Perhaps, coming from a fanatic, the message of God’s love will regain some of its wonderful outrageousness. ‘Listen. I have a secret. I eat God, and I have his life in me. It’s the best thing in the world.’”
In Lickona’s “true confessions,” we are introduced to a unique and singular voice, but one that is emblematic of a new generation of believers who combine a premodern faith with a postmodern sensibility. Swimming with Scapulars is a modern-day, Catholic, coming-of-age story that takes its author from the austere Catholicism of his Irish-French family in upstate New York to the exotic spiritual tapestry of
Southern California. It is the story of the formation of an ardent young believer who is painfully honest about his spiritual shortcomings (“In times of suffering, I look first to myself. God is the backup, to be called upon when I find myself insufficient.”), yet who finds consuming joy in receiving the Eucharist and embracing “the ancient treasures of the faith.”
Lickona doesn’t mind that many of his secular friends and acquaintances regard him as a religious fanatic. As he writes, “Perhaps, coming from a fanatic, the message of God’s love will regain some of its wonderful outrageousness. ‘Listen. I have a secret. I eat God, and I have his life in me. It’s the best thing in the world.’”
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
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105 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
April 6, 2008
This book is basically about my family.
Ok, maybe Matthew's a little more orthodox, but I really appreciated the voice of someone who is smart and critical and lives in the world who is also constantly in awe of their faith. Especially, for me, it's smart without being snobbily intellectual.
A little more of a pulling together thread would be nice, but its pretty unobtrusive for being compiled from newspaper columns.
Ok, maybe Matthew's a little more orthodox, but I really appreciated the voice of someone who is smart and critical and lives in the world who is also constantly in awe of their faith. Especially, for me, it's smart without being snobbily intellectual.
A little more of a pulling together thread would be nice, but its pretty unobtrusive for being compiled from newspaper columns.
March 16, 2008
If I'd been an editor on this book, I would have changed the title to True Confessions of a Young Catholic: Take this Bread and take this Whine.
Matthew Lickona has the blind faith that is the luxury of those who benefit from the system. He admits that he doesn't "understand the Church's teaching on birth control," but then goes on to say, "But what's it matter if I understand it? I don't have to understand it, I only have to follow it." But you don't have to get pregnant, do you?
As for my proposed subtitle: Matthew whines. He whines a lot. He whines about wanting to have sex with his wife while she's ovulating (and he tries to goad her into it, despite the fact that they've agreed to practice natural family planning). When they cut it too close and she ends up with an unplanned pregnancy, he prays for a miscarriage (how pro-life of him). He whines about what a hypocritical sinner he is for praying for such a thing. He doesn't get his wish, which means he gets to whine about how his oldest son doesn't properly love the Church. He whines about how modern church music is too "upbeat." He whines when a priest adapts the text of the Eucharistic prayer. He whines BIG TIME when a lesbian couple comes into Church and by their mere presence distract him from the Mass. He whines when the majority of his congregation are Latino or Vietnamese. He whines because his brother is holier than him. He whines because he and his wife don't have time to make fancy meals when they entertain because they've got too many kids (4, two boys, and two girls, the latter of which are NEVER given much screen-time in his memoir). He whines because his mother-in-law is pagan and thinks the Church is unjust for not ordaining women (Matthew puts up a feeble defense of the Church patriarchy here). And finally, he whines because he doesn't have very many friends (I can't figure out why).
He flagellates himself for the sins of lust and wrath, but what his character really smacks of is pride. "It's hard to be a good Catholic, but LOOK HOW HARD I TRY!!!!" Even when he attempts to make himself vulnerable by expressing some very deep faults (including his short temper with his kids, which comes across as borderline abusive), the tone remains prideful: "I'm so humble that I can admit my terrible sins." A direct quote from Matthew while talking about his pagan mother-in-law: "I want Mom to see something attractive in the faith, something she wants and does not have. I want her to see in our lives evidence that OURS is a living God, one who acts in the human heart in a way the goddess does not."
My God is better than your God, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.
I can appreciate Matthew's spiritual seeking, I just wish it would take him a little further than the Pope's back yard.
Matthew Lickona has the blind faith that is the luxury of those who benefit from the system. He admits that he doesn't "understand the Church's teaching on birth control," but then goes on to say, "But what's it matter if I understand it? I don't have to understand it, I only have to follow it." But you don't have to get pregnant, do you?
As for my proposed subtitle: Matthew whines. He whines a lot. He whines about wanting to have sex with his wife while she's ovulating (and he tries to goad her into it, despite the fact that they've agreed to practice natural family planning). When they cut it too close and she ends up with an unplanned pregnancy, he prays for a miscarriage (how pro-life of him). He whines about what a hypocritical sinner he is for praying for such a thing. He doesn't get his wish, which means he gets to whine about how his oldest son doesn't properly love the Church. He whines about how modern church music is too "upbeat." He whines when a priest adapts the text of the Eucharistic prayer. He whines BIG TIME when a lesbian couple comes into Church and by their mere presence distract him from the Mass. He whines when the majority of his congregation are Latino or Vietnamese. He whines because his brother is holier than him. He whines because he and his wife don't have time to make fancy meals when they entertain because they've got too many kids (4, two boys, and two girls, the latter of which are NEVER given much screen-time in his memoir). He whines because his mother-in-law is pagan and thinks the Church is unjust for not ordaining women (Matthew puts up a feeble defense of the Church patriarchy here). And finally, he whines because he doesn't have very many friends (I can't figure out why).
He flagellates himself for the sins of lust and wrath, but what his character really smacks of is pride. "It's hard to be a good Catholic, but LOOK HOW HARD I TRY!!!!" Even when he attempts to make himself vulnerable by expressing some very deep faults (including his short temper with his kids, which comes across as borderline abusive), the tone remains prideful: "I'm so humble that I can admit my terrible sins." A direct quote from Matthew while talking about his pagan mother-in-law: "I want Mom to see something attractive in the faith, something she wants and does not have. I want her to see in our lives evidence that OURS is a living God, one who acts in the human heart in a way the goddess does not."
My God is better than your God, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.
I can appreciate Matthew's spiritual seeking, I just wish it would take him a little further than the Pope's back yard.
April 23, 2011
I liked this book enough. After reading David Sedaris (a Greek Orthodox raised atheist), and Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality (by some Evangelical guy), this was definitely a good book of essays for a young Catholic to read. It really focused on the Catholic faith. It wasn't anti-anything else, but it really was what I was looking for, whether I liked the author and his opinions or not.
The essays I really liked were about the priesthood and marriage - especially marriage. Lickona discusses the sexual abuse scandal, how he felt about it, what he and his family ultimately did about it, and what he feels it means for the Catholic Church. He didn't cry victim, and he didn't defend the Church without question. I'll leave it at that and let the reader discover the rest.
Lickona really said some great things about marriage. Being a single, 27 year old woman, I have relly been looking for guidance on the sacrament of marriage. I thought that Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality And Spirituality said a lot of great things about love and marriage, but with the few things Lickona said, he really hit the bullseye.
He also discusses a variety of other topics such as children, Catholic literature, music during mass, Holy Communion, and miracles. I felt the book was a good refresher and helpful to young Catholics trying to insert more of their faith into their daily lives. While mainstream Christian literature is perfectly acceptable, I really felt this book was great because it was of a genre that I really enjoy, yet always refering back to the nuances of the Catholic faith.
The essays I really liked were about the priesthood and marriage - especially marriage. Lickona discusses the sexual abuse scandal, how he felt about it, what he and his family ultimately did about it, and what he feels it means for the Catholic Church. He didn't cry victim, and he didn't defend the Church without question. I'll leave it at that and let the reader discover the rest.
Lickona really said some great things about marriage. Being a single, 27 year old woman, I have relly been looking for guidance on the sacrament of marriage. I thought that Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality And Spirituality said a lot of great things about love and marriage, but with the few things Lickona said, he really hit the bullseye.
He also discusses a variety of other topics such as children, Catholic literature, music during mass, Holy Communion, and miracles. I felt the book was a good refresher and helpful to young Catholics trying to insert more of their faith into their daily lives. While mainstream Christian literature is perfectly acceptable, I really felt this book was great because it was of a genre that I really enjoy, yet always refering back to the nuances of the Catholic faith.
July 14, 2010
Swimming with Scapulars is a memoir by Matthew Lickona, detailing his life as a NFP-adhering, Scapular-wearing, mass-attending Catholic -- something that is by all accounts uncommon, but not (as this book would have you believe) mind-blowing or unimaginable. Lackona is a regular guy, practicing an ancient faith in a modern world. He is counter-cultural, to be sure, but ulultimately his story fails to impress.
As a fellow practicing Catholic, I don't exactly find it inspiring that an adult who chooses to be Catholic actually *practices* the tennants and rituals of his own faith. Nor do I find it laudable enough to warrant a memoir at the age of thirty. Maybe I'm being simplistic, but Lickona is doing what his faith requires him to do. That's like me joining a book club, reading all the assigned books, and then writing my own memoir about how I dutifully particpiated in the book club I willingly joined. Lackona is counter-cultural, sure -- but he's not handling snakes, for God's sake. He attends Mass. If I'm going to read a memoir about a guy in his thirties, he better be a total circus freak, or a genuine saint, or a world leader, because THAT warrants some attention. Practicing Catholic (rare as that may be)? Not so much.
Admittedly, I probably have more qualms with Loyola Press (the publisher) than the author or his story. The back cover of Swimming With Scapulars boasts(in all caps), "HE LISTENS TO ROCK MUSIC. HE DRAWS OFF-BEAT CARTOONS. HE WEARS A SCAPULAR." Holy shit! The implication here, of course, is that practicing Catholics are dour little people who self-flagellate and pray unceasingly, rather than living, breathing, dynamic individuals who are in the world and part of it. Thankfully, fortunately, I know better. So Lackona's memoir holds little appeal for me to begin with and the awe of the publishing company only irks me.
As for the memoir, it reads like this: Lackona has an absolutely typical white, suburban, middle-class American Christian uprbinging. He grows up and gets married. He has children. He practices his faith. Et cetera. The End. I kept waiting for the part that would shock me, or at the very least give me an insight as to *why* he was writing this. But the book is ultimately just a random collection of his musings. Likckona is not struggling with his faith, or even attempting to come to grips with its tennants. Neither is he interested in convincing the reader of anything. Essentially Lickona wanders from one life experience to the next, from one Church "issue" to the next, failing to flesh out the reasons for his belief. I'm not really sure what his purpose in writing this memoir is at all, which is to say that the conflict in this book is nonexistant. Oh, and so is his focus: One chapter might be about the Tridentine mass, and then in another paragraph he's talking about his friend's obsession with pornography and how he urged him to stop -- a story that, like every other story in his book, never really pans out. We don't find out if the friend gives the porn up, by the way. When Lickona writes him a letter, urging him to quit his porno habit, we learn that his friend never really responded and the conflict is never really resolved.
At the very least, he disspells, maybe unintentionally, a lot of myths surrounding Catholic teaching -- for instance, it is SO refreshing to hear from someone who a) knows what Natural Family Planning is, b) uses it, and c) appreciates its marital and spritual benefits. I don't see that often at all. In one section he writes: "When Diedre [his wife:] and I took a class in Natural Family Planning, our instructor told us that couples should ... prayerfully consider whether God was calling them to try to concieve. The idea was not simply to crank 'em out and make more souls for heaven, but to cooperate with God's will for your life and the life of your family." He also takes care to note that NFP is not at all the "rhythym method" as so many claim. A refreshing perspective.
Lickona is undoubtedly intelligent and capable of articulating his Catholic beliefs, and in parts of this book that makes for an interesting read -- especially for non-Catholics who want a relevant, personal view of the faith. Still, his story meanders, drags, and then fizzles, with no unifying arch to tie together his well-articulated musings.
As a fellow practicing Catholic, I don't exactly find it inspiring that an adult who chooses to be Catholic actually *practices* the tennants and rituals of his own faith. Nor do I find it laudable enough to warrant a memoir at the age of thirty. Maybe I'm being simplistic, but Lickona is doing what his faith requires him to do. That's like me joining a book club, reading all the assigned books, and then writing my own memoir about how I dutifully particpiated in the book club I willingly joined. Lackona is counter-cultural, sure -- but he's not handling snakes, for God's sake. He attends Mass. If I'm going to read a memoir about a guy in his thirties, he better be a total circus freak, or a genuine saint, or a world leader, because THAT warrants some attention. Practicing Catholic (rare as that may be)? Not so much.
Admittedly, I probably have more qualms with Loyola Press (the publisher) than the author or his story. The back cover of Swimming With Scapulars boasts(in all caps), "HE LISTENS TO ROCK MUSIC. HE DRAWS OFF-BEAT CARTOONS. HE WEARS A SCAPULAR." Holy shit! The implication here, of course, is that practicing Catholics are dour little people who self-flagellate and pray unceasingly, rather than living, breathing, dynamic individuals who are in the world and part of it. Thankfully, fortunately, I know better. So Lackona's memoir holds little appeal for me to begin with and the awe of the publishing company only irks me.
As for the memoir, it reads like this: Lackona has an absolutely typical white, suburban, middle-class American Christian uprbinging. He grows up and gets married. He has children. He practices his faith. Et cetera. The End. I kept waiting for the part that would shock me, or at the very least give me an insight as to *why* he was writing this. But the book is ultimately just a random collection of his musings. Likckona is not struggling with his faith, or even attempting to come to grips with its tennants. Neither is he interested in convincing the reader of anything. Essentially Lickona wanders from one life experience to the next, from one Church "issue" to the next, failing to flesh out the reasons for his belief. I'm not really sure what his purpose in writing this memoir is at all, which is to say that the conflict in this book is nonexistant. Oh, and so is his focus: One chapter might be about the Tridentine mass, and then in another paragraph he's talking about his friend's obsession with pornography and how he urged him to stop -- a story that, like every other story in his book, never really pans out. We don't find out if the friend gives the porn up, by the way. When Lickona writes him a letter, urging him to quit his porno habit, we learn that his friend never really responded and the conflict is never really resolved.
At the very least, he disspells, maybe unintentionally, a lot of myths surrounding Catholic teaching -- for instance, it is SO refreshing to hear from someone who a) knows what Natural Family Planning is, b) uses it, and c) appreciates its marital and spritual benefits. I don't see that often at all. In one section he writes: "When Diedre [his wife:] and I took a class in Natural Family Planning, our instructor told us that couples should ... prayerfully consider whether God was calling them to try to concieve. The idea was not simply to crank 'em out and make more souls for heaven, but to cooperate with God's will for your life and the life of your family." He also takes care to note that NFP is not at all the "rhythym method" as so many claim. A refreshing perspective.
Lickona is undoubtedly intelligent and capable of articulating his Catholic beliefs, and in parts of this book that makes for an interesting read -- especially for non-Catholics who want a relevant, personal view of the faith. Still, his story meanders, drags, and then fizzles, with no unifying arch to tie together his well-articulated musings.
January 14, 2012
What I loved most about this book is that there is nothing hysterical about it. This book does not assault you or try to shock you or aim to win you over. The voice is measured, respectful, assertive and intellectual, but also convivial and neighborly. The tone is soft, rather disarming, but not wimpy nor stuffy nor secretly proud.
What I love second most is that it is not a conversion story. Lickona goes from being a Catholic to being more of a Catholic. That's it for narrative arc! Love it. Most memoirs with a religious bent seem to take one of two tried and true routes: following a person from a horrible religious upbringing to renouncing religion, or from being an atheist sinner living a horrible life to a devout Church-goer. There is a lot of outward drama in that. Here, we follow the quieter path of a sturdier soul as it forges ahead in an uncertain life but guided by a faith that is (certain, or as certain as it can be, most of the time).
I love the way it is set up: Because the book has no contrived plot, the story is allowed a more discursive path, a nice, anecdotal presentation that reads like a series of mini-essays. Lickona discusses a wide variety of subjects, yes, sex and contraception and sin, but also cockroaches and home-buying and literature, all within the context of his faith.
In an age when doubt in the existence of ultimate truths reigns supreme, and pleasure is pursued as a means of relieving despair, it is pretty wild to read about a journey that begins in hope and trust, and in which God and holiness are pursued as ends in themselves. Talk about counter cultural.
Lickona manages to defend his faith without being defensive, to search his soul without "navel-gazing," to witness without evangelizing (or is this a form of evangelizing?) Whatever this is, I like it, and I wish there was more of it out there. He avoids something that has come to be a pet peeve for me, a common pitfall in "Catholic" writing: We can, as Lickona puts it, "confuse thinking about the Church with thinking about God." When I read something "Catholic," I too often end up reading about The Church, when I want to be reading about God. For this reason I probably was more taken by the first half of the book than the second. The first half felt more personal. The second half dealt more with politicized aspects of The Church, questions about the liturgy and what people wear to mass, homosexuality, and that kind of stuff. But then the chapter The World was one of my favorites, in which he talks about his fear of losing his faith and intermittent doubt. It was so bare and relateable. All in all, though, he writes much more about God than The Church. Yay.
Overall, as a cradle Catholic, I could very much relate to this story and there is not much out there that is "Catholic" that I can relate to. Parts of it made me a little jealous, especially when he wrote about his college experience: "To me, it was a spiritual greenhouse, a place where religious flora, imported from all sorts of environs, could flourish in a protective Catholic atmosphere. There, I encountered practices, beliefs, and traditions that had withered away in the more arid, post-Vatican II climes of my upbringing."
I went to a Catholic college but did not find religious community. Not that I was looking for it, but, this word "formation" comes to mind. I didn't have much of that, any of that. I feel like his college experience was an education in faith that gave him a real jump start in the spiritual life. I definitely feel like I have some catching up to do. Not that spiritual growth is necessarily that linear or predictable. But, you know, one tends to stall out and backslide if one doesn't actively seek to learn more, try harder, and grow in faith. He seems to. There is a lot of wisdom in this book for someone so young. Lickona has a lot to offer, especially to us cradle Catholics of the "cafeteria" persuasion. I think it was not only brave but charitable for him to offer it in the form of this book.
I can't wait for the next.
What I love second most is that it is not a conversion story. Lickona goes from being a Catholic to being more of a Catholic. That's it for narrative arc! Love it. Most memoirs with a religious bent seem to take one of two tried and true routes: following a person from a horrible religious upbringing to renouncing religion, or from being an atheist sinner living a horrible life to a devout Church-goer. There is a lot of outward drama in that. Here, we follow the quieter path of a sturdier soul as it forges ahead in an uncertain life but guided by a faith that is (certain, or as certain as it can be, most of the time).
I love the way it is set up: Because the book has no contrived plot, the story is allowed a more discursive path, a nice, anecdotal presentation that reads like a series of mini-essays. Lickona discusses a wide variety of subjects, yes, sex and contraception and sin, but also cockroaches and home-buying and literature, all within the context of his faith.
In an age when doubt in the existence of ultimate truths reigns supreme, and pleasure is pursued as a means of relieving despair, it is pretty wild to read about a journey that begins in hope and trust, and in which God and holiness are pursued as ends in themselves. Talk about counter cultural.
Lickona manages to defend his faith without being defensive, to search his soul without "navel-gazing," to witness without evangelizing (or is this a form of evangelizing?) Whatever this is, I like it, and I wish there was more of it out there. He avoids something that has come to be a pet peeve for me, a common pitfall in "Catholic" writing: We can, as Lickona puts it, "confuse thinking about the Church with thinking about God." When I read something "Catholic," I too often end up reading about The Church, when I want to be reading about God. For this reason I probably was more taken by the first half of the book than the second. The first half felt more personal. The second half dealt more with politicized aspects of The Church, questions about the liturgy and what people wear to mass, homosexuality, and that kind of stuff. But then the chapter The World was one of my favorites, in which he talks about his fear of losing his faith and intermittent doubt. It was so bare and relateable. All in all, though, he writes much more about God than The Church. Yay.
Overall, as a cradle Catholic, I could very much relate to this story and there is not much out there that is "Catholic" that I can relate to. Parts of it made me a little jealous, especially when he wrote about his college experience: "To me, it was a spiritual greenhouse, a place where religious flora, imported from all sorts of environs, could flourish in a protective Catholic atmosphere. There, I encountered practices, beliefs, and traditions that had withered away in the more arid, post-Vatican II climes of my upbringing."
I went to a Catholic college but did not find religious community. Not that I was looking for it, but, this word "formation" comes to mind. I didn't have much of that, any of that. I feel like his college experience was an education in faith that gave him a real jump start in the spiritual life. I definitely feel like I have some catching up to do. Not that spiritual growth is necessarily that linear or predictable. But, you know, one tends to stall out and backslide if one doesn't actively seek to learn more, try harder, and grow in faith. He seems to. There is a lot of wisdom in this book for someone so young. Lickona has a lot to offer, especially to us cradle Catholics of the "cafeteria" persuasion. I think it was not only brave but charitable for him to offer it in the form of this book.
I can't wait for the next.
January 3, 2016
In Matthew Lickona's enjoyable and thoughtful memoir, he muses about his faith and its practices. Not a whole lot -- and everything -- happens. He grows up and goes away to Thomas Aquinas College, where he meets his future wife and deepens his faith. He works for an alternative weekly newspaper in Southern California, so it's no surprise he sees his Catholicism as more unusual than it is. (I sometimes felt like the only Catholic journalist in my own newsrooms, and I worked for mainstream papers in the middle of the country.) Lickona's quest to vividly feel the grace of God shines through. I don't find his writing to be all that whiny (a frequent criticism he receives); his level of hand-wringing has its place in a memoir and is particularly appropriate considering that spiritual imperfections are a significant focus of the work.
July 18, 2014
This section always reminded me of Monsignor Schuler!!!
I liked him immediately: the orderly workings of his mind, the staccato rasp of his voice, the cheerful scorn - sharpened by age and experience - which he heaped upon the enemies of the Church.
And this reminds me strongly of St. Agnes:
Everything worked upon me - the soaring and ancient music from the full choir in the loft, the ornate vestments, the shifting rainbows of light through the stained-glass windows, the massive silence. I found the Mass glorious, vivid and vivifying, even transcendent.
And the discussion of Lent - the purists, diehards and traditionals. Because this conversation comes up every single Lent in our family.
I liked him immediately: the orderly workings of his mind, the staccato rasp of his voice, the cheerful scorn - sharpened by age and experience - which he heaped upon the enemies of the Church.
And this reminds me strongly of St. Agnes:
Everything worked upon me - the soaring and ancient music from the full choir in the loft, the ornate vestments, the shifting rainbows of light through the stained-glass windows, the massive silence. I found the Mass glorious, vivid and vivifying, even transcendent.
And the discussion of Lent - the purists, diehards and traditionals. Because this conversation comes up every single Lent in our family.
June 29, 2007
Read this book in 2 days! Quite a feat for me! I loved it, any devout Catholic in their 30s and 40s should read this book! I could relate so much to the author's experiences.
December 6, 2007
Very approachable light read of everyday challenges we face. Lickona's writing makes you empathize with his story even when diometrically different from yours.
September 21, 2008
I liked this book and it even had me taking
cold showers for a while. Perhaps I had better
read it again.... :-)
cold showers for a while. Perhaps I had better
read it again.... :-)
August 5, 2009
http://www.matthewlickona.com/ This is a book about giving Catholicism a chance.
February 3, 2010
It was a bit dull and too serious. If a non-Catholic read it he would think we were all nuts. If a Catholic read it, he would say, "That's not how I live."
August 4, 2017
Contrived, childish, infantile and truly naive. Even at its best, it can't help but expose the author's serious intellectual deficiencies and shortcomings.
Heavily scattered, emotionally unintelligent and just downright silly. It was so unenjoyable, the author's last name beckoned for a rather indecent pun to be included in this review. Classless as it may be to add the pun, it may be worth it while reviewing some other work of his.
Heavily scattered, emotionally unintelligent and just downright silly. It was so unenjoyable, the author's last name beckoned for a rather indecent pun to be included in this review. Classless as it may be to add the pun, it may be worth it while reviewing some other work of his.
February 13, 2018
Wonderful book, written by a talented author. Highly recommended.
October 28, 2020
I loved this book. A candid narrative pilgrimage. How we are all striving to embrace more and more our faith! Funny and sad and every emotion in between.
September 7, 2008
I've been reading Matthew Lickona's blog Godsbody (a reference to the final lines of the book in question) for a while now, and have appreciated his quirky amalgam of pop culture, literature, personal autobiography, and Catholicism. This book is simply a more in-depth and sustained version of that. Some of the reviewers below found his tone to be self-pitying, but I think this perspective fails to take into account the nature of the project he undertakes: to speak of the ordinary struggles and moments of grace that come in the midst of a life lived reflectively within the day-to-day life of the Church. An author engaged in such a project must necessarily speak of the things that weigh him down as well as those that encourage him and give him joy. Those struggles are, admittedly, petty at times--I was thoroughly bored by the internal dialogue on whether or not to hold hands at the Our Father--but in a way, that is the point. It's a struggle not to get hung up on petty things such as this, or to refrain from judging the flamboyantly lesbian couple at Mass. We know we must be better than we are at such moments ... otherwise there is no struggle. We keep walking in the same circles of sin and inattention. An honest confession is usually a confession of faults; a good one is also a confession of belief in the healing mercy that takes away those same sins. To write such a book is to render oneself incredibly vulnerable to the misinterpretation and dismissal of one's interior life, and so should be considered an act of courage. Lickona should be commended for his measured self-portrayal that manages to be faithful to his own life story without obscuring the yearning for truth that characterizes (or should characterize) the existence of us all.
A quote that I actually gleaned from Lickona's blog some time ago:
"There is a tendency to become either the hero or anti-hero of your own narrative. And in that sense, all your misdemeanors become felonies, and random acts of kindness become shimmering examples of the author’s own humanity. I think that’s sorta embedded in people. And I think you’ve got to watch it."
David Carr, NYT reporter
Lickona is a good example, I believe, of one who does.
I felt like I should read this book both because the author is a fellow alum and to have some resources to be able to recommend to young Catholics trying to persevere in their faith while beset with all manner of contradictory input from their culture. It's encouraging to know there are others out there, exercising discernment and growing in their awareness of where the line must be drawn. This is the stuff of a growing maturity in Christ, of a desire for meat and not just milk. As we grow in our consciousness of the dilemmas and desires of this generation, so also does our ability to exercise what a priest friend of mine refers to as the "prophetic imagination": the Ancient of Days translated into the particularity of each generation. Without the honesty and forthrightness of authors such as Lickona, we lose our ability to receive from the one who is ready to fill our cups to overflowing.
A quote that I actually gleaned from Lickona's blog some time ago:
"There is a tendency to become either the hero or anti-hero of your own narrative. And in that sense, all your misdemeanors become felonies, and random acts of kindness become shimmering examples of the author’s own humanity. I think that’s sorta embedded in people. And I think you’ve got to watch it."
David Carr, NYT reporter
Lickona is a good example, I believe, of one who does.
I felt like I should read this book both because the author is a fellow alum and to have some resources to be able to recommend to young Catholics trying to persevere in their faith while beset with all manner of contradictory input from their culture. It's encouraging to know there are others out there, exercising discernment and growing in their awareness of where the line must be drawn. This is the stuff of a growing maturity in Christ, of a desire for meat and not just milk. As we grow in our consciousness of the dilemmas and desires of this generation, so also does our ability to exercise what a priest friend of mine refers to as the "prophetic imagination": the Ancient of Days translated into the particularity of each generation. Without the honesty and forthrightness of authors such as Lickona, we lose our ability to receive from the one who is ready to fill our cups to overflowing.
June 23, 2008
I had been wanting to read this for a while, by the time that I finally got a copy of it. It was nice. I enjoyed the author's reflections on his life growing up, and also his sentiments about wanting to find the old traditionalism he remembered as a child. I laughed out loud at a few parts--mostly because they just seemed so human. Of course a few of the things that he stated weren't exactly the "right" things we tend to want to hear...but they were real. It's life. A few times here and there, I felt as though the story line were dragging...but I have yet to find another author that explains this line of thought as he does. Clearly, it had to come from first-hand experience.
June 29, 2012
Despite scandalizing my 15-year-old sensibilities, this book convinced me that going to Thomas Aquinas College was the right decision, even though I was certain to run into a lot of weirdoes there. I looked forward to the weird and wonderful life of the philosophic mind as presented here in this fond memoir, read "Brideshead Revisited" per Mr. Lickona's recommendation, and tried to emulate the gracious example of his wife Deirdre, who strove to encourage the bumbling TAC freshman with her junior-year-mellowed humor and loving support.
July 28, 2009
Overall, I enjoyed this book. It was well written and Lickona made several interesting points. Although I definitely did not agree with everything he said, I still thought it was pretty good. I just wish that his writing had been more consistent. Some sections held my attention and seemed to fly by while I struggled through other parts of the book, although I suppose that ought to be expected from a book about religion.
January 10, 2012
Lots of good content: interesting anecdotes, references to books and plays and movies, examples of real-Catholic-life issues. While I enjoy Lickona's style, the book felt very disorganized, almost stream-of-consciousness. While there are descriptive chapter titles, I was never really sure where he was going. That being said, I think it's a worthwhile read for Catholics trying to live authentically and true to Church teachings.
March 22, 2009
Maybe I'm just jealous of his faith, or his youth, or his professional success, or his cosmopolitan milieu. I agree with him on church music, but that makes me distrust my own stance instead of liking him better. I better just go back to the lives of the saints and work harder at not resenting the happiness of others.
March 16, 2011
I did not like the author at all. It made it really hard to get passed that. Many times I considered just stopping reading it. I am going to go ahead and give it two stars because it did make me stop and think about some of my beliefs which is almost always a good exercise and it did introduce me to some other books and movies to check out.
April 20, 2011
If you are a practicing Catholic who's looking for a way to extend your Catholic spirituality beyond your weekly Mass attendance, then this book gives you a few things to think about. If you aren't, well I am not sure why you would bother reading it at all.
October 16, 2007
This book was decent. Some parts really spoke to me as a fellow Catholic. The author writes well.
January 9, 2009
A great quick read. If you want to read about another inspiring story of a young man in today's culture, you should pick it up.
January 11, 2009
Not that great.
May 20, 2013
This book is funny and authentically Catholic
December 21, 2009
I found out about a lot of good Catholic fiction authors, which the author presents in his book.
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