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My five favorite free Catholic apps.

Thanks for the wallpaper, Ryan!

I lifted the lid off the top of the iPhone box the December day the FedEx guy delivered it.

THIS IS NUTS, I thought, that I, Arleen Spenceley, faithful flip-phone owner, master of fasting from modern technology, consistent resister of smartphones…

owns one.

I felt weird. Cautious, even. Caught between one conviction (that smartphones make us stupid) and another (that not owning one could compromise my career).

But I plugged it in. Slid to unlock.

And as fast as I opened the box, I forgot life before my phone.

It’s efficient, and magic, and there are all kinds of fabulous apps. In the months since I got the phone, I have browsed for good ones, and stumbled upon five free ones worth sharing with readers (especially if you’re Catholic!). They are these, in no particular order:

Laudate



Laudate: BEST. APP. EVER (despite that I just said these are in no particular order). Daily readings (in print and via podcast), the rosary (including the beads), the entire Bible, the entire Catechism, every Catholic prayer you can think of, a bunch of Catholic prayers you haven’t heard of, and Vatican documents. #boom. 



Mea Culpa

Mea Culpa Pro: Because being able to say “bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was January 26, 2013” is awesome, so is this app. Use it to track your last confession (and never forget how long it’s been), and to examine your conscious in depth, commandment by commandment, for venial and mortal sins.



the Steubenville App: This is like a Steubenville conference in your phone. Browse video, audio, and blogs; see a schedule of upcoming conferences (and watch vids of talks from old ones).



40 Day Spiritual Workout for Catholic Teens: I’m not a teen, but I’m surrounded by ’em six days a week. This app, written by professor, author, musician Bob Rice, is fuel for forty days. Each “workout” includes a short Scripture reading, a reflection, and a prayer. Set a reminder for the part of your day when you most could use a couple extra minutes of prayer.

The Pope App: This app’s close to due for an update (and my hunch is it’ll tell me first when we have a new pope). Watch the pope speak live, read his homilies, and watch live webcams of Saint Peter’s Square, Blessed Pope John Paul II’s tomb, and St. Peter’s Basilica.

 What are your favorite apps?
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Thoughts on Pope Benedict’s resignation.

“No way.”

This morning, in my dark bedroom, I felt for my glasses on my nightstand. Found them. With corrected vision, I looked again at my phone, at a post on Google+ shared by somebody in my circles:

“Pope to resign.”

I thought it was a hoax. By now you know it isn’t.

I have had a day to process the news, to begin to adjust to the reality that Rome will probably have a new Bishop by Easter.

Today, these have been my thoughts, in no particular order:

  • I want to cry a little.
  • What an example of humility and responsibility.
  • This excerpt from a 2007 Catholic News Agency article is a fabulous snippet of the big picture of B16’s wisdom:

    In contrast to this beauty and purity, the Holy Father turned to the young people of today who are, he said, “growing up in an atmosphere pervaded with messages that propose false models of happiness. These boys and girls risk losing hope because they often seem to be orphaned of that real love which fills life with meaning and joy,” Pope Benedict warned.
    Adults advancing false models of happiness, he said, were targeting children at ever-younger ages.
    “Adolescents, youths and even children are easy victims of the corruption of love, deceived by unscrupulous adults who, lying to themselves and to them, draw them into the dead-end streets of consumerism,” he continued.
    Pope Benedict lamented that in a consumerist society even human bodies become objects, saying that this objectification is occurring earlier and earlier.
    “How sad it is when young people lose the marvel, the enchantment, of the most beautiful feelings, the value of respect for one’s body,” he said.


  • I am stunned.
  • Toupster, Toupster! (…who just three days ago became a monsignor.)
  • I really hope I’m at home the day the chimney smoke turns white, or anywhere in front of a TV when it happens. How exciting it was to watch the white smoke rise live when the cardinals elected Cardinal Ratzinger to Pope Benedict XVI. How neat it would be to see it again when white smoke rises for St. Peter’s next successor.
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[Repost] Empty.

A version of this post originally appeared on Ash Wednesday in 2011.

Lent is the season of the church that starts on Ash Wednesday (a week from today) and ends on Easter.

It is dark and somber. Solemn and quiet. Chock full of scripture, tradition and discipline.

Sometimes, especially toward the end, Lent is sad.

And I love it.

A few years ago, via email on Ash Wednesday, a Franciscan friar friend of mine explained the concept of kenosis. It’s the “process of emptying,” he wrote, and it’s “very common in our Christian spirituality.”

Especially during Lent.

Most practicing Roman Catholic Christians fast until dinner on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. We abstain from meat on Fridays. Many of us make a 40-day long sacrifice. In past Lents, I’ve given up chocolate, bread, CDs, Facebook. I heard about a guy once who gave up his bed for Lent, and slept on the floor for 40 nights.

When we give up stuff, it puts a new perspective on the difference between the words want and need.

It frees up some of our time and attention.

It eliminates some distraction.

It empties us.

That, the Franciscan friar wrote, is the point.

“In order to let God fill our life, we need to empty it first.”

Here’s to an empty Lent.

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Symptoms.

Humans, it seems, are prone to try to solve problems in every way except for from the root.

Tired? Coffee.

Out of shape? Fad diet (if not diet pill).

Not ready to parent a kid? Contraception.

No sex in your marriage? Erotica, or Viagra.

We are on a mission to live one way without experiencing the reasonable consequences of living that way. We like a certain lifestyle, but we dislike the results of the lifestyle, so we create ways to obliterate the results. We are enabled to refer to symptoms as problems, and to deny that the root of the problem is a problem at all.

Which totally disregards the purpose of symptoms.

A body doesn’t use symptoms to tell you to make the symptoms stop. It uses symptoms to say, “Stop treating me this way.” 

A tired body doesn’t need coffee. It needs sleep.

An out of shape body doesn’t need a diet. It needs a lifestyle adjustment.

A person not ready for kids doesn’t need contraception. He or she needs abstinence (and perhaps only periodically).

A sexless marriage doesn’t need erotica (and according to a sex therapist professor of mine, it might not need Viagra, either.). It might just need communication.

In other words: Lack of coffee doesn’t result in tired. Not sleeping does. Lack of diet or diet pill doesn’t result in out of shapeness. An unhealthy lifestyle does. Lack of contraception doesn’t result in babies. Sex does. Lack of erotica doesn’t result in sexless marriage. Lots of circumstances do, including but not limited to absence of communication.

But avoiding the roots of problems doesn’t result in joy.

It just stunts our growth.

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Death.

A dove release in honor of my friend’s mom.

Today I attended a memorial mass, followed by a fabulous celebration of life for a good friend’s mother, who died a week ago today.

It amazes me how death unites people to each other and how it draws us toward Jesus (whether we act on it or not).

During mass, the priest said a prayer of thanksgiving to God – if I remember correctly – for summoning us to be there.

It kind of blew my mind.

Death already had such purpose (it’s our only road home).

But the purpose of death has more depth for me now that I see how powerful it is for the people who are left behind.

It is sad, yes. It can make a soul hurt. But, like the prayer said, it’s a summons. It’s kind of magnetic. It draws us toward each other and it draws all of us toward God.

I find comfort in this, and I hope you do, too.