A Balm in Gilead Returns At Last!

All of the odds and ends of my life since I last wrote, and a bit about the art that I've been enjoying this summer.

Dear friends,

Oh my glory- it has been almost two years since I have written on Substack.

As you may have concluded by now, I decided to take some time off from this part of the online world. I will be writing more about this soon, but for now, the summer transition into beginning my M.T.S. program later this month has allotted me the opportunity to update you all on where I’ve been, and what I’ve been doing- the various odds and ends of my life since I last wrote in 2022.

I’m writing this from my home, not in northern Illinois, but in Southern California, where I am now living full-time as I begin my M.T.S. at the University of San Diego’s Franciscan School of Theology in several weeks. Eek! I am so excited about this, and a little wistful, as I remember myself as a little girl no older than twelve or thirteen who went to church and had so many questions and just knew she wanted to study religion. I chose the Franciscan School of Theology for several reasons. For one, I wanted to be closer to my family after three years of living in the Midwest. I missed California. I wanted to attend a Catholic graduate school and was intrigued when I visited the Wheaton Franciscan sisters back in autumn 2023 and they recommended that I look into FST, the only Franciscan seminary/divinity school in the United States. All this to say: I visited the campus in December, had a chance to meet with the incredible faculty and staff, and will be commuting during the week for in-person classes.

Before divulging more of the details of how I expect to continue writing for A Balm in Gilead in the future, I wanted to include several small reflections on several topics that have been circulating through my mind lately.

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My Stay at a Maryland Monastery

Last June, I spent a week living in a Carmelite monastery in Maryland.

Impulsively booking a flight to Baltimore was a decision that was largely influenced by a recent breakup that had left me feeling, to say the least, bereft. As I watched the people around me, also in their twenties, enter into committed relationships and announce engagements on their social media, I read and reread the part in Normal People where Connell tells Marianne, “just because other people treat you badly at times doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated badly.” I was frustrated and aimless, so when I saw a mutual- I want to say Shannon Evans!- post about an upcoming retreat opportunity with the Carmelite sisters on the east coast, I emailed the sisters and booked my tickets the day they replied.

The seven days spent at the monastery were comprised of fully aligning myself with the rhythms of contemporary Carmelite monastic life. I celebrated Corpus Christi, the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus with the sisters, and spent my days participating in communal and private prayer (lauds, daily mass, vespers, the daily office), gardening, attending a funeral mass, studying St. John of the Cross’s poetry, harvesting beans, hosting a birthday supper, baking cookies, and dialoguing with the sisters at length.

One evening, baking with Sr. Bridget, I asked a question about Carmelite life. I don’t remember what I asked her, but I vividly remember her reply: she told me that there is something revolutionary about learning how to live with one another. Salvation, she told me, is more collective than we tend to think.

The view from the sloping hills of the monastery.

Her words continued to move me, months after our conversation in the kitchen, as I reflected on a recent reread of Simone Weil’s Waiting for God and intellectual risk. I thought about theology PhD student Rose Lyddon’s words in a Substack essay on Weil she published, and which I deeply resonate with:

“I’ve found reading Weil so generative because I have a similar methodology. I struggle to consider an idea in a purely rational or abstract frame… I have to inhabit it and understand it from the inside out. I have to act like I believe it to appreciate why someone might and thereby understand its relative merits and drawbacks… People have told me that it’s hard to tell what I believe; typically, I don’t know what I believe, at least not before I’ve spent a few months trying it out.”¹

My former college roommate has often remarked that she doesn’t understand why I receive a lot of pushback and negativity from Christians for my work and writing. “I always say, you can’t be mad at her for thinking this or thinking that because, regardless, she actually lives out the things she claims to believe,” she has observed on multiple occasions. While lonely at times, at best I see this as an embodied and immersive methodology that allows me to develop greater integrity in my life and faith.

With that being said, in autumn, I would go to Mass and find myself grumbling internally about the women who wore veils, angrily reflecting on what Pope Francis wisely lamented last year about “ideologies replacing faith” in the American Catholic hierarchy- a rigid ideology of dogmas centered around a pre-Vatican II landscape.² However, when I would slip into my parish’s adoration chapel every night for prayer, my consistent grumbling kept running around in my mind as I fumbled my rosary beads and repeated the Lord’s Prayer.

I decided to go online and buy a veil, and started wearing it to both Mass and adoration. I read Nine Parts of Desire by Geraldine Brooks and Politics of Piety by Saba Mahmood and was struck firsthand by how Muslim women who wear the hijab do not have the privilege of a hardly visible, private faith like I do as a Christian woman. I got to thinking about the contemporary politics of fashion- the corporate agendas driving clothing trends, and the ways in which we succeed and fail in respecting women’s embodiment. I read a brilliant article by Emma Cieslik in Feminist Studies in Religion, another brilliant article by Emily Archer in FemCatholic, and complimented a veiled woman sitting next to me at Mass.³

I don’t veil out of any personal conviction, and don’t plan to veil in the future, but I was able to move beyond an internal narrative that diminished my empathy in the name of my overwhelming concern (I am still concerned! two things can be true at once and we are all the better for it!) for the American Catholic church.

I thought about the sister’s words- there is something revolutionary in learning to live with one another- and considered the many women at Mass who would have dismissed me if some of my perspectives were more blatantly reflected on my clothing. The same sister had also told me that, outside of the monastery, she would have likely never interacted with the majority of these women, let alone been friends with them.

As can be observed through Weil’s life and writings, intellectual risk demands the physical- the embodied, the present, the immersive. As people of faith, I think that we are living most truly and authentically into our respective faith traditions when we negate the pressure to fit ourselves into absolute belief systems, as these diminish the very values that are supposedly at the heart of our faith, like empathy, solidarity, reconciliation, and communal flourishing. And in my eyes, there is always something to be said about focused attention as the truest expression of our love for God and neighbor. As our beloved saint Simone Weil observed:

“Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love. Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.”⁴

A Weekend Retreat in Cleveland, Ohio

Last week, I had the opportunity to spend the weekend at the Jesuit Retreat Center in Parma, Ohio as the opening retreat for a year-long creative advocacy program. This program involves facilitating an artistic project exploring how the Catholic faith moves or compels us towards “justice, healing, and transformation” with the support of a cohort of other individuals. It was a beautiful retreat, and I had the opportunity to meet such interesting, like-minded people- always a joy!

Inside the chapel of the Jesuit Retreat Center in Cleveland.

On Sunday, the final day of the retreat, I grabbed coffee with several others and then booked a Lyft to take me to downtown Cleveland, so that I could get some lunch and visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame before going to the airport. I got into the Lyft and quickly started chitchatting with my driver about the weather and my trip. He was curious about the retreat; I mentioned that I was raised evangelical but fell disillusioned with it after attending an evangelical school for my undergrad, and he told me that he had been raised non-denominational too.

He told me that he wasn’t practicing anymore, and I asked him what contributed to that decision. “Well,” he hesitated, thinking. “For one, I got to thinking that religion is really just about locality. It has less to do about what is the truth and more to do with the fact that so-and-so was born to a practicing Buddhist family, or the guy down the street was born in a house right next to the local Baptist church. Some countries are predominantly Catholic, so of course you will be Catholic, too. That sort of thing.”

I agreed with him. If the most important theological decision you can make is where you live, then how much of that takes place in your infancy, in the period of time before you even begin to develop your own sense of spiritual agency? He mentioned hell, and we got to talking about different theories of the afterlife. “I mean, I reached the point years ago where I started thinking about hell less as this fire and brimstone place,” I told him, “Especially when I got to considering the way that these ideas we still have of ‘hell’ were weaponized in the spread of Christianity as a fear tactic in the quest for domination and exploitation.”

I mentioned to him the idea that the Pascal mystery is actually an allegory, and that if Christ represents creation, then the cross represents hell. “Apocatastasis”, I told him. He thought for a moment and grinned. “You’re cool,” he said. “Nobody I knew talked this way when I was growing up in the church- I didn’t think you were allowed to ask these things so I just kept my mouth shut and left as soon as I could.”

We arrived in downtown Cleveland and exchanged goodbyes while he helped with my luggage. I told him it was wonderful to talk to him and he said that I got him thinking. And he had got me thinking, too- he got me thinking about the mundane magic of everyday interactions, and how I could have never had these kinds of conversations back when I was desperately trying to remain evangelical and felt the all-consuming pressure to hand out tracts and convert people.

I purchased a cappuccino and wandered around Lake Erie, thinking about my hope for the church that I had voiced at the retreat earlier that weekend: I hope that we reach the point where belonging- the spiritual community that we speak of- is contingent on sincerity, not absolute agreement. That is the church that I want to see.

Wisdom and Whimsy: Art I’m Enjoying

Clean: The New Science of Skin by James Hamblin

Throughout the past year, Jessica DeFino has become one of my favorite Substack writers due to her political and philosophical approach to writing about the beauty industry. One of her book recommendations was “Clean”, so I downloaded it as an audiobook via Libby.⁵ In Clean, Hamblin discusses his article about quitting showering, creating a compelling thesis for how our increasing dependence on skincare products can be harming the skin’s microbiome and altogether feeding the problems we are trying to eliminate.⁶ It’s really interesting writing, and very feels particularly relevant given this particular moment in history where “Sephora teens” are making us question the beauty and wellness industry narratives that many of us have accepted or bought into as adults.

It is a really timely read for me, as one of my fixations lately has been single-ingredient naturals to restore my skin’s microbiome (jojoba oil, manuka honey, rose water, etc.). In wanting to support my skin barrier topically, the best thing I have found for me personally is to imitate my skin’s function with natural products, so that it heals in ways that are both recognizable and noninvasive.

Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd

Maybe it’s because I am back living in Southern California and the gently crooned bridge of “Sweet” keeps running through my mind over and over again- “do you want children? do you wanna marry me? do you wanna run marathons in Long Beach by the sea?”- but since its release in 2022, I have grown increasingly convinced that this is my favorite album of Lana’s to date.

I have been, and continue to be, particularly fixated on the “Judah Smith Interlude.” It’s a rather jarring addition to the album, a recording of part of a sermon from the controversial preacher Judah Smith, with Lana and her friends whispering and giggling in the background. Notably, Smith ends with:

“I used to think my preaching was mostly about You
And you're not gonna like this, but I'm gonna tell you the truth
I've discovered my preaching is mostly about me”

I’ve read a lot of peoples’ takes on how the interlude’s inclusion in the album is a purely ironic feature, but I have a difficult time buying that this is true. I think that things can be compelling without requiring commitment, and this is something that Lana knows very well and has consistently emulated in her music. I think about Andy Warhol and his complicated relationship with the RCC, and I feel that Lana is aware that a life of faith is something that should keep us in tension.⁷ This isn’t noncommittal spirituality- it’s something that we all possess to some extent and it’s really interesting to see it reflected in this album.

Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass (2021)

My parents and I spent less than a week binge-watching Midnight Mass on Netflix. This seven-episode series tells the story of a young man, Riley Flynn, who returns to his hometown on Crockett Island after he spent several years in prison for killing a teenage girl in a devastating drunk driving accident. At the same time as his arrival, the young and charismatic Fr. Paul Hill arrives on Crockett, supposedly sent by the Diocese as the island’s former priest, an elderly man named Monsignor Pruitt, receives medical treatment on the mainland. While Fr. Paul’s magnetism starts bringing most of the island to Mass every week, in very little time, mysterious events begin happening, as well as mysterious deaths.

Fr. Paul surveying the church on Midnight Mass.

Mike Flanagan knows Catholicism very well, particularly the ritual embodied in it. Deep-seated guilt and the search for redemption are fundamental to the storyline, as well as religion as this binding force that has the simultaneous power to both bring together and isolate, inspiring both genuine hope and unquestioning devotion. The supernatural elements in the series also got me thinking about Alec Irwin’s fascinating article “Devoured by God: Cannibalism, Mysticism, and Ethics in Simone Weil.” He writes:

“To contemplate stubbornly those aspects of God and the world which seem most terrifying and contradictory, to stay with those sides of reality that correspond least well to the God and the cosmos we would invent for ourselves if our imagination were given free rein to fashion a universe according to our whim: this was Weil's principle… It may be that Weil's language can help us grapple effectively with the fact—so shatteringly unveiled to Arjuna — that the revelation of God's true nature is as likely to appall as it is to comfort his creatures.”⁸

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The future of “A Balm in Gilead”

In regard to what I am going to be writing here moving forward, a subscription to A Balm in Gilead will translate to receiving:

• Weekly reports

  Each week, I’ll send a reflection on what I’ve been thinking about. Once a month, I’ll include the Art I’m Enjoying section, featuring books, poetry, music, and visual art that has moved, challenged, or inspired me recently.

• Bimonthly essays

  I’m also going to continue publishing bimonthly long-form essays on topics within the realm of art, theology, and culture. You can reasonably expect ramblings about: Wendell Berry, Catholic spirituality, monasticism and church history, Wes Anderson movies, the Romantic poets, religious rhetoric in post-secular, a story-formed education, and all things Yorkshire tea.

I’ve had a number of dear people ask how they can support my writing, and the best way to do this is to tap the little heart icon at the top of the page! Liking, sharing, and commenting helps the algorithm to recommend my writing to other people who are thinking about similar topics. Also, while my writing is and will remain free to all readers, I have enabled subscriptions as a way of making this possible for those who are interested in financially supporting me. There is no exclusive content with a subscription, but you do have my profound gratitude.

And in other news, I am leaving tomorrow for my entire family’s annual hiking trip to Mammoth Lakes, a little town in Mono County, California, surrounded by lush forests and sparkling lakes. We have been making the trip up every year since the 1970s, when my mom was a little girl, and there is something so deeply important to me about these mountains that have held me gently and without fail every year, in all of the many cascading slopes of my life.

I will write when I get back, and am all the while looking forward to continuing my weekly installments here. I’m incredibly glad to be back writing here!

Warmly,

Julia

1. https://roselyddon.substack.com/p/affliction-ii?utm_source=publication-search

2. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/01/us/pope-francis-conservative.html

3. https://www.fsrinc.org/veiling-the-female-tabernacle-the-feminist-undertones-to-catholic-women-rekindling-traditional-devotional-practice/ and https://www.femcatholic.com/post/feminism-led-me-to-start-veiling

4. Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace, edited by Gustave Thibon, translated by Emma Crawford (London: Routledge, 2002).

5. James Hamblin, Clean: The New Science of Skin (New York: Riverhead Books, 2020).

6. https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2016/06/i-stopped-showering-and-life-continued/486314/

7. https://www.americamagazine.org/arts-culture/2022/06/30/andy-warhol-catholic-art-243218

8. Alec Irwin, "Devoured by God: Cannibalism, Mysticism, and Ethics in Simone Weil," CrossCurrents 51, no. 2 (Summer 2001): 257-272, https://www.jstor.org/stable/24460795.