Streams of Mercy

Lourdes, from Tourist to Pilgrim: Guest Post by Pam Pedler

2009-02-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

For 150 years Lourdes has been best known for the apparitions of the Blessed Mother (who called herself the "Immaculate Conception" when she appeared to the young Bernadette Soubirous). Since that time, Lourdes has been a popular pilgrimage site, with many reports of miracles and healings from those that bathed in the waters of the spring that erupted from the ground at the very place where the Blessed Mother stood before the young girl.

I received this account from Pam Pedler, who first published it in the "Denver Catholic Register." I met Pam at CWCO 2009 this year, and am running the article here as part of the Lent/Easter Mary Moments Carnival. Enjoy!

Palm trees stood against the back drop of snow capped mountains. The balmy weather in the Pyrenees was unexpected after three bitter cold days in Paris. This was Lourdes, France, and once a seemingly impossible destination for my travel. Lourdes had been a late addition to our inaugural trip to Europe.
How could I go to France, and miss visiting the birthplace of Bernadette Soubirous, and the site of an 1858 nonfiction story of David and Goliath magnitude? The production of The Song of Bernadette captivated me as a child, so much so that I choose Bernadette as my confirmation name.

When I realized our trip coincided with the 150th anniversary of her apparitions, I meekly asked my family if we could squeeze an overnight visit to Lourdes. It required a five hour train trip each way from Paris.

Millions of people arrive each year. It is only second to Paris as a tourist destination in France. Lourdes is a place to rest; to unplug and absorb the calm. Some curious visitors come hoping to see what others see, and what they do not comprehend. Many others surrender their suffering here, and that in itself is a healing.

Not all healings are physical; most of the spiritual healings are know only to the recipients. The miraculous spring waters that Bernadette revealed by digging in humble obedience, remains a free gift today. Its’ grace flows from God through Mary, to open hearts that seek.

I had never traveled as a spiritual tourist. I am a private person. Somehow our trip expanded into a personal ‘pilgrimage.’ The word - uncommon in modern times, was a foreign experience to me. I felt drawn to present myself in gratitude to an inspirational woman, who is a constant source of mercy and guidance. I wanted to touch the rock where this female role model of all time, our Mother Mary, presented herself to an impoverished girl of fourteen. My impetus to take on such an unlikely mission was thankfulness for the mercy granted during my father’s final days before his death.

Upon arriving, my fifteen year old son said, ”Mom, we should have come right here instead of seeing Paris first. There are so many kids, and everyone seems so happy. The sun is shining for the first time since we’ve arrived in Europe too!”

Stomachs growling, we stopped to eat. The waiter took our order, and we looked out large windows upon a narrow, two lane intersection. We could even hear the groups of people singing, and smiles abounded. No one was hurrying. It really felt like a different country!

Intrigued, we set out on foot to find the Grotto. We took several wrong turns, using our mistakes to observe the sites and people. Our Mother Mary, in her usual fashion, led us first to her Son. Stepping out of a mist of drizzling rain, we were drawn into wooden doors by singing. Sliding into a pew to listen, we realized a Mass was starting, in French. Accidentally, as if by another’s design we first attended Mass and received Eucharist.

Only afterwards did we behold the grotto. Walking around the back of the Basilica, we descended switchbacks towards the Gave River. There it was, just like my mind’s eye had imagined. The cave’s rock darkened from a century and a half of candle flames, stood witness to heaven reaching out to guide humans. A white statue of the Virgin Mary stood in her cove engaging one’s mind and heart.

I placed my hands on the rock beneath where Mary appeared eighteen times to Bernadette. Our Mother Mary had requested prayers, and penance then. I offered up a simple prayer, “Thank you for your mercy. Present us to your Son to heal us, and our family and friends, of what we need to be healed from. You know better than us, what that may be.” After a reverent kiss of the stone below the apparitions, my hands were scented with a beautiful floral aroma that lasted even after the next morning’s shower.

We collected water from the spring’s source to share with family members. Submerged in the experience, and praying for our friends and family’s intentions, I surrendered to rinse my face in the water, and drink it with unusual openness. My son insisted we go to confession in the English speaking confessional, for the fullness of grace. Our priest was from England.

We returned for the candlelight procession at nine pm. Even the rain paused for the prayers. Praying the rosary out loud, in nine languages, among hundreds of international people, was an unforgettable experience. It surprised me that Europe was so much more open than the United States when adoring Christ, and honoring his Mother. Stirred, I realized it was the actual date of 150th anniversary of Mary finally identifying herself to Bernadette by saying, “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

Lourdes is a holy and joyful place of unity among Christians and non- Christians alike. While lighting candles in a centuries old tradition, I was warmed by connecting to the Church Body that preceded me; Bernadette and all the saints of the past two millenniums.

Making our way back to our hotel, we stopped in the multitude of tiny shops. The incongruence of materialism on the doorstep of the sacred was disconcerting. It seemed opportunistic. It wasn’t until I returned home and read The Fluorescent Virgin, in the The Wonders of Lourdes,* that my eyes and heart were opened to the distraction. The merchant’s story tells of how he owed his life to a religious trinket. In his words, “God takes any shape he pleases to help us believe in him, to keep us near him. Don’t mock the faith of the simple for it touches God’s heart just as much as the faith of the saints does.”* To my surprise I found a fluorescent virgin in the bottom of my bag at home. Had I been in his store?

I was so grateful to extend the Lourdes experience with this book.

Since returning home my trip is re-stirred daily, prompting peaceful contentment. Lourdes is a place on earth, where the holy touches both the ordinary tourist and a modern pilgrim.

Divine Mercy: What does it look like?

2008-11-07T13:12:00.000-08:00

This meditation is being submitted to the November edition of "Mary Moments." If you'd like to contribute, contact Sarah at peerybingle@gmail.com.

In the famous Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, the words that the saint hears Jesus speak are recorded in boldface type; those of His mother are in italics. As might be expected, the words of the Blessed Mother are few and far between – all true Marian devotion draws the heart toward Jesus.

What she does say, however, speaks volumes. In paragraph 625, St. Faustina writes: “In the evening, when I was praying, the Mother of God told me, Your lives must be like Mine; quiet and hidden, in unceasing union with God, pleading for humanity and preparing the world for the second coming of God.”

In paragraph 635, the Blessed Mother continues: “Oh, how pleasing to God is the soul that follows faithfully the inspirations of His grace! I gave the Savior to the world; as for you, you have to speak to the world about His great mercy and prepared the world for the Second Coming of Him who will come, not as a merciful Savior, but as a just Judge. Oh, how terrible is that day! Determined is the day of justice, the day of divine wrath. The angels tremble before it. Speak to souls about this great mercy while it is still the time for [granting] mercy. If you keep silent now, you will be answering for a great number of souls on that terrible day. Fear nothing. Be faithful to the end. I sympathize with you.”

In these passages, we glimpse the nature of God’s abundant mercy: Not weak or indecisive, neither pandering nor aloof. Supreme Being by whose power brought heaven and earth into existence, and by whose design all creation will be restored.

What is most remarkable about this plan, however, is that the Creator of the Universe has deigned to involve us in it. And yet, the most powerful among us are not the flashy, the ornate, the wealthy, or the articulate … at least, not by the world’s standards. It is a conspiracy of kindness, a momentary rush of grace that comes to us when we are at our weakest and most desperate. For only when we have come to the end of ourselves, and surrendered to those divine ministrations, can the celestial surgery begin.

“Let it be done to me according to your word…” This is the song of the handmaid, the tribute of the warrior, and the offering of the priest. And as we take up the song, in imitation of our Mother, we find in surrender the courage to persevere to the end.

Mysteries of Light: Reflection for the "Mary Moments" Rosary Carnival

2008-10-09T08:03:00.000-07:00

In this apostolic letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae, John Paul the Great introduced the "Mysteries of Light" adding a fourth set of mysteries to the traditional three attributed to St. Dominic in the 12th century.

These mysteries reinforce the Holy Father’s instruction that the Rosary is a profoundly Christo-centric prayer, and that to honor the Mother is to reveal the Son. For these mysteries reveal in a profound way the humanity of Christ, which He received from the Blessed Mother. These mysteries are particularly meaningful to my family, for they coincide with special moments in their own spiritual development.

1. The Baptism in the Jordan. Jesus was not an infant when He received baptism at John’s hands. He fully understood what He was doing, and why. And because we had to wait three years to finalize our adoption, our children were both well aware of what they were doing on their baptism day. “Today we have a new name – and a new family!” my son shouted. “Yes, you do,” the priest agreed. “Your name is Christian, and yours is the family of God.”

2. The Wedding at Cana. This is one of my children’s favorite bedtime stories. Sarah lives for brides and weddings, and they both love the dramatic “master of the party,” who runs about moaning, “Oh, no! No more wine! Whatever shall we do?” To which Mother Mary replies, “Do whatever He tells you.” That’s a lesson for all of us … isn’t it?

3. The Proclamation. Teaching children about the “here” and “not yet” of the Kingdom of God starts from the very beginning of their spiritual formation. Once they understand that the things that are most “real” are the things they cannot see or touch, and that the best part of life is the part that is yet to come, it affects the way they make choices – how they form relationships, invest their lives, and spend their money. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you…”

4. The Transfiguration. The three men dazzled: Moses, giver of the Law; Elijah, father of the prophets; and Jesus. “Let us stay here, and build three tents,” suggested Peter, awestruck. But the transformation was not yet complete – the Son of God had to become the Lamb of God. Good Friday led to Easter Sunday. And we, all His followers, are transfigured as well, infused with His divine life.

5. The Institution of the Eucharist. When I think of this Passover meal the Lord shared with His disciples, I always picture Mary in the kitchen – chopping the herbs, pouring the oil, baking the bread. Once again, she provided the “stuff” by which the Son of God would touch mankind for all eternity.

"Many of the problems facing contemporary families, especially in economically developed societies, result from their increasing difficulty in communicating. Families seldom manage to come together, and the rare occasions when they do are often taken up with watching television. To return to the recitation of the family Rosary means filling daily life with very different images, images of the mystery of salvation: the image of the Redeemer, the image of his most Blessed Mother. The family that recites the Rosary together reproduces something of the atmosphere of the household of Nazareth: its members place Jesus at the centre, they share his joys and sorrows, they place their needs and their plans in his hands, they draw from him the hope and the strength to go on."

Pope John Paul II
RosariumVirginis Mariae, 41

The Reverent Heart

2008-09-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Watching Shadowlands with my husband one evening, I was struck by a line in the marriage vows of C.S. Lewis and American poet Joy Davidman: “With my body, I thee worship.” It was the declaration of a man and woman, before God, binding themselves together for life.

If this movie had been pure fiction, in one sense the marriage between this “confirmed old bachelor” and the divorced, critically ill expatriate would seem a bit… convenient. She had young children (only Douglas is mentioned in the movie), and her body was riddled with cancer. For Joy, returning to the States was not an option. But life is often stranger than fiction, and anyone familiar with the writings of Lewis, including both Surprised by Joy and A Grief Observed, can see that this was no “marriage of convenience,” but a true joining of hearts. In the latter work, Lewis observed:

One thing marriage has done for me. I can never again believe that religion is manufactured out of our unconscious, starved desires and is a substitute for sex. For those few years [Joy] and I feasted on love, every mode of it – solemn and merry, romantic and realistic, sometimes as dramatic as a thunderstorm, sometimes as comfortable and unemphatic as putting on your soft slippers. No cranny of heart or body remained unsatisfied. If God were a substitute for love, we ought to have lost all interest in Him… We both knew we wanted something besides one another – quite a different kind of something, a quite different kind of want. You might as well say that when lovers have one another they will never want to read, or eat – or breathe.

Tending to our Soulish Needs

Though he helped to pave the way for some of the rest of us (myself included), C.S. Lewis never made the final leap “home to Rome”. And yet, this quote – an eloquent tribute to the spiritual intimacy God wants with us – speaks to the heart of the sacramental life, which is also reflected in the second reading from this past week (Philippians 2:1-5):

“…complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing. Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others. Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus…”

This passage goes on to describe all the things Christ did on our behalf – physical manifestations of a divine love so complete, so overwhelming that it conquered death itself. Not a 50-50 kind of love, not a “keeping up with the Joneses” enterprise. This ultimate self-sacrifice was born of perfect love and calls for a response equally momentous proportions. A response of true humility and reverence, and of total self-giving, body and soul.

When we approach Our Lord at Mass, especially in the Eucharist, we feast on love with all the gratitude of one who does indeed (in the words of St. Paul) “regard others as more important,” and yet who (in the words of Lewis) wants “something besides one another.” Only when both these conditions are met can our souls be satisfied.

It can be difficult to strike a balance. When we judge harshly the actions and motives of those around us, we fail to tend to our own souls with humility. By the same token, if our choices about where and even whether to worship are determined solely by the “feelings” our surroundings engender, we cannot hear the still, small voice of God. We may kneel deeply, or bow profoundly. But reverent we are not.

As in a good marriage, reverent worship is an exterior expression of an interior commitment, a desire to know and be known – in other words, intimacy. When we approach Our Lord in the Eucharist in this way, “with the same love, united in heart … humbly regarding others as more important,” even the hungriest soul may be satisfied.

"Behold Your Mother" by Mark Shea -- Third Time's the Charm

2008-08-06T11:19:00.001-07:00

This excerpt isn't from this book (on the left, above). Though I confess I'm rather partial to it, having written it myself -- from the perspective of a convert and adoptive mother.

It's not from this one (on the right, below), either. Although it, too, is a lovely book -- written from one of "Mary's sons," a good and holy priest.

No, the following excerpt is from Mark Shea's lovely book (actually, I understand that it is to be a triology) by the same title, to be published by Catholic Answers in a few months. I'm looking forward to seeing it in print ... in the meantime, here is a little snippet to pique your interest (cover image was not available ... sorry)!

There are about a jillion forms of prayer in the Catholic tradition. In the massive fields of prayer that stretch out like a grand prairie of wildflowers, there's simply no end to the ways in which Catholics approach God through Jesus Christ. Here, more than anywhere else, we experience the Church's curiously decentralized approach to faith. This can surprise us, because many people have the notion that a hierarchical Church insists on a top-down Command Economy where bishops issue the prayers and the faithful salute smartly and recite them. But in reality, the Church has always acted with the basic assumption that devotions will spring up among the faithful like orchards and gardens spring up in April.

To be sure, the devotional life needs tending and pruning here and there so people don't starting praying in loopy ways. But the basic trust of the Church is that the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, will provide the sunlight, rain, and inspiration that brings prayer from the hearts of the faithful.

Consequently, the prayer life of the Church is a riot of color and variety. Aside from liturgical prayers such as the Mass and the Divine Office (a series of prayers prayed throughout the day, particularly in monastic or religious orders, also known as the Liturgy of the Hours), there are gazillions of other private devotions, both popular and obscure. There are litanies, icons, prose, poems, and beloved music. Private prayer is done in all sorts of postures: laying, sitting, standing, kneeling, walking, even dancing (as St. Teresa of Avila used to do, employing castanets in her impromptu outbursts of meditative prayer). There is prayer to the Blessed Trinity, prayer to each Person of the Trinity, prayer to saints, prayer using Scripture, prayer to the Eucharist, prayer alone, prayer in groups, prayer employing all the senses, prayer using physical objects, prayer that avoids distraction by physical objects, prayer that chatters, prayer that's silent, prayer done while working, prayer for valor in battle, prayer for courage to die rather than shed blood, prayer sung, prayer spoken, prayer enacted, prayers of love, rage, confusion, hope, fear, contentment, boredom, and even small talk.

This colossal variety doesn't diminish one iota when the subject is Marian prayer. Mary is prayed to and addressed under a zillion titles. She is Mother Mary, Blessed Mother, Holy Mary, the Virgin. She is Mother of the Church, Seat of Wisdom, Daughter of Zion. She is Bride of the Holy Spirit, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Mother of Mercy and Our Lady of Sorrows (just to name a very few of her titles).

Some people, uncomfortable with this massive creativity in finding new ways to praise Mary, have the notion they can get away from intense Marian piety in the Eastern Churches. That's because Eastern liturgy is experienced by few in the West
while Western Catholic private devotions are so visible in secular life what with all the posters, medals, statues, holy cards, and icons all over homes and offices. So most Americans perceive Western Catholics to have the heavy-duty devotion to Mary and imagine the Eastern Churches haven't "gone overboard" about her as Westerners supposedly have.

In reality, Eastern Christianity is, if anything, even more intensely Marian than the West. It's just that, in the Eastern Churches, most Marian devotion is found in the liturgy (where you must participate) rather than in private devotions (where you may participate). Indeed, to bind Marian devotion to the liturgy, as the East has, is to place her, in the profoundest way, at the heart of the Faith.

Therefore, if someone chooses to, say, worship in a Byzantine Catholic church in order to get away from things such as the Litany of Loreto or May Crownings, they will soon realize they've arrived at the expression of Christianity that perfected the Akathist Hymn, a long hymn of praise to the Blessed Virgin—offered while standing—which includes, among many other titles of praise, such acclamations for the Virgin as:
Container of the Uncontainable God!
Door of Solemn Mystery!
Report Doubtful to Unbelievers!
Undoubted Boast of the Faithful!
All-Holy Chariot of Him Who Sitteth upon the Cherubim!
All-Glorious Temple of Him Who is above the Seraphim!
Thou Who hast United Opposites!
Thou Who hast Joined Virginity and Motherhood!
Thou Through Whom Transgression Hath Been Absolved!
Thou Through Whom Paradise Is Opened!
Key to the Kingdom of Christ!
Hope of Eternal Good Things!
O Bride Unwedded!

In short, there's no end to the variety of praise for Mary in the Catholic Faith—eastern or western.

Cataloguing and discussing every facet of this colossal diversity could trail on for thousands of pages. We don't want to do this. Therefore, the best way to approach Marian prayer is to go where the vast majority of Catholics turn, to the 800 Pound Gorilla and All-Time Champion form of Marian devotion: the Rosary. For in its mysteries there are lots of opportunities to take side jaunts into some of the other forms of devotion out there as well. ...

Care to read more? Well, why not order the book?

"Mary and Me": A New Favorite!

2008-08-06T10:58:00.000-07:00

This post is part of the "Mary Moments" Carnival held at Behold Your Mother

Author Ginny Kubitz Moyir writes:

"...there are times when life presents us with a clear crossroads. The paths are well-marked, displayed before our eyes; it's simply a matter of discerning which one to follow. But what happens when the future is not a crossroads, but a maze? What do we do when we can't even see what our options are? How do we proceed when we know our current lifestyle isn't working for us, but we have no idea where to go from there?" (p.15).

This particular paragraph resonated with me, especially right now. Whether the question on the table is "Why should Mary mean more to me than any other figure in Scripture apart from Christ himself?" or "Something's not right ... What do you want from me, God?" the answer is so often right in front of us, if we are only open and willing to read the signs.

Mary and Me is the story -- many stories, actually -- of individuals who felt the gentle tug of that particular apronstring, and let themselves be drawn in to her loving embrace. In one story, an HBO exec whose brother had recently died from AIDS felt herself being inexplicably drawn to churches. She recalls:

Beth knew she still needed to make a drastic change to regain her emotional health. A few months later she quit her job, sublet her apartment, packed her bags, and got into her car. She didn't know where she was going, and had no timeline or agenda for her road trip. Only one thing was clear: She was at a turning point, and needed to find a new life for herself.

For the next five months, she drove all the way from California to Nova Scotia and back. Though she had no conscious itinerary or purpose, she soon discovered one: visiting churches. Without knowing why, she found herself stopping her car in front of Catholic churches in different states. "I'd see a Catholic church as I was driving through Town X, and I'd pull over, and stop, and I'd walk in...." She had no idea why she was doing it, but felt "compelled from the outside in." It was only when she'd arrive in the vestibule of the church that it hit her: She was there because she was looking for Mary.

This search for transcendent reality, for ultimate truth -- for home -- is common to many of those looking toward the Catholic Church. We don't know exactly what it is we are looking for until we look it full in the face, then find ourselves wondering why it took us so long to catch on.

Thanks, Ginny, for taking the time to sing it out so compellingly.

"The Beauty of Mary": A Primer for the Faithful ... and the Skeptical

2008-08-06T08:25:00.000-07:00

When I first started on my little book about Mary, now titled Behold Your Mother, I did not have what you'd call an intimate relationship with her. Not even a daily Rosary. Sad, but true.

Once I started the book, however, I took a look around and realized just how many "stubborn children" (usually, but not always, non-Catholic Christians) Mary contends with on a regular basis! She loves them anyway ... but what a regular trial we must be for her at times! Like sulky teenagers, we do everything we can to separate ourselves ("She's not MY mother!") -- and yet, the fact of her motherhood has never depended on our willingness to accept it. She loves because it is in a mother's nature to love her children. No matter how ornery.

These past few weeks I've had the pleasure of reading a number of "Mary books," and I wanted to share a few excerpts with you in hopes that these snippets will inspire you to (like St. Augustine) "Take and read." When we are trying to overcome years of ignorance or apathy, truth is the only thing that will seep around and soften those rough edges.

First ... since the Feast of the Assumption is fast approaching, I wanted to offer a snippet from a book entitled The Beauty of Mary, by Rosemary Vaccari Mysel and friends, published by Pauline Books and Media.

First, a little history: "According to theologian Danilo Sartor, OSM, the feast of the Assumption of the BVM was first celebrated in sixth-century Jerusalem. The Emperor Maurice (d.602) ordered the celebration of the Assumption for the entire empire. In the Byzantine Empire, it was called the 'Dormition.' ... By the late 7th century ... four Marian feasts were celebrated in Rome: the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, the Annunciation, the Purification, and the Assumption" (p128).

Caryll Houselander offers this meditation on the feast:

...Even in natural things, it is newness that gives us delight: daybreak, morning in spring. These seem to us promises from heaven, promises of our own renewal.

"I will give you the morning star."

To be born again: that is exactly what Christ has promised to us; not only once, but just as often as our inner life grows old and jaded and dies.

But newness, flowering spring, shadowless morning, are not born of what is decaying, corrupt, and fetid. They are born only of virginity, virginity which is newness, virginity complete as fire and water.

The only virginity like that is the virginity of Our Lady; it is through this virginity that the earth is made new, that the Holy Spirit is wed to humanity.

Because of the beautiful mix of historical and devotional, this book is an excellent starter resource for those who are just beginning to explore their relationship to the Blessed Mother.

For more information on the Blessed Mother, go to my blog Behold Your Mother.

Mother Teresa's Rules to Live By

2008-06-06T03:48:00.000-07:00

I found this the other day at one of Sister Spitfire's blogs, courtesy of A Catholic Mom in Hawaii.

Mother Teresa gave these rules to her Sisters to help them develop the virtue of humility:

1. Speak as little as possible about yourself.
2. Keep busy with your own affairs and not those of others.
3. Avoid curiosity.
4. Do not interfere in the affairs of others.
5. Accept small irritations with good humor.
6. Do not dwell on the faults of others.
7. Accept censures even if unmerited.
8. Give in to the will of others.
9. Accept insults and injuries.
10. Accept contempt, being forgotten and disregarded.
11. Accept injuries and insults.
12. Be courteous and delicate even when provoked by someone.
13. Do not seek to be admired and loved.
14. Do not protect yourself behind your own dignity.
15. Give in, in discussions, even when you are right.
16. Always choose the more difficult task.

Great Quote of the Week

2008-05-07T15:49:00.000-07:00

"We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it."

- Madeleine L'Engle

Via Sarah at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering

Sky Gazers

2008-05-01T05:57:00.000-07:00

When they had gathered together they asked him, "Lord,
are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”
He answered them, “It is not for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has established by his own authority.
But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you,
and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem,
throughout Judea and Samaria,
and to the ends of the earth.”

When he had said this, as they were looking on,
he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight.
While they were looking intently at the sky as he was going,
suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them.
They said, “Men of Galilee,
why are you standing there looking at the sky?
This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven
will return in the same way
as you have seen him going into heaven.”

From today's reading: Acts 1:1-11

Catholicism is full of mystery. As much as it makes us squirm to think about it, there are some things we are not meant to understand in this lifetime. There are many reasons for this, one of the biggest ones being that the human mind is finite in its capacity, and is encumbered by all sorts of baggage: ignorance, prejudice, presumption, and pride chief among them.

Trying to grasp the Infinite with the human mind is like trying to contain the ocean in a sieve. I read that somewhere ... St. Augustine said it, I think.

And yet, there are some things we are called to do, to say, and to be. "...why are you standing there, looking at the sky?" Yes, there is mystery. There is also revealed truth. We have our marching orders.

One of my Bible school teachers used to say to us, "Obedience precedes revelation. If you want God to show you more of Himself, you must follow the light you've been given so far."

Are you acting on the truth you see right in front of you? Or are you stalling out of fear or stubbornness or an unwillingness to be misjudged by others?

Better that than to be mocked by the angels. You have light enough for the next step. Don't just stand there ... march!

(Image of Dome of the Ascension from photos.com)

A Dangerous Prayer

2008-04-23T06:21:00.001-07:00

Today I received a letter from a writer friend who had just finished my book Behold Your Mother and found herself being drawn toward the Church. I understand completely her struggle: It is an unsettling, even embarrassing to realize that the one you once regarded as the "Whore of Babylon" is actually your spiritual mother.

Even so, the Church continues to draw her children out of their self-made rafts of subjective religious experience and selective Scripture study, and into the Barque of Peter. Christians are "crossing the Tiber" into the fullness of the faith all the time, from every possible tradition: Baptists, Pentecostals, Vineyard, Methodists, Presbyterians (I was baptized Presbyterian, but because of my music background I've been involved in all of them at one time or another).

Perhaps you find yourself standing on the edge of your raft, gazing serreptitiously (yet longingly) at those who have already taken the leap of faith, and entered into the fullness of the faith through the one, holy, catholic, apostolic Church founded by Christ. Yet you are afraid of being tricked, afraid of being deceived ... just afraid.

In the words of the late, great Pope John Paul II: "Be not afraid! Open the gates to Christ!" His successor, Pope Benedict XVI, echoes, "Christ is our hope!" It is Christ, who alone atones for the sins of the world, and who offers Himself -- Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity -- in the Holy Eucharist.

Take your Bible and spend a holy hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament. Open to the sixth chapter of John, and read each verse very slowly. Let it sink into your heart. Ask God to speak to you through these verses, to reveal to you what HE wants you to understand. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths."

Once you get your heart around the Eucharist, what a gift Our Lord gives to us in that Holy Sacrament, you will not be content until you receive Him. However, please remember that St. Paul urges us not to take the sacrament "unworthily." To be ready to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, you must enter the Church. There's no way around this. It will take time ... but by God's grace, your hunger will be satisfied in His perfect time.

Finally, a gentle warning. Jesus warned that unless we become like little children, we cannot see the Kingdom of God. It took God many years and quite a number of strippings and humblings before I was willing to say,

"I don't have the answers, Lord. Only questions. You are God, and I am not ... You are pure mystery, and my mind is blinded by prejudice, ignorance, and error. Help me. Guide me each step of the way, and take these blinders from my eyes and help me to truly see."

This is a dangerous prayer, but a necessary one. It's not enough to read the Bible ... one must interpret it correctly as well. We do this not in isolation, but in union with Christians going all the way back to the first apostles. We must not "proof text" isolated Scriptures to harden our hearts and minds, but invite the Holy Spirit to open us to ALL the truth God wants us to understand. Almost inevitably, He does this through the treasury of wisdom that is available to us through the teaching authority of the Church (the Magisterium) and the saints.

I suggest you start with Teresa of Avila's The Interior Castle and move on to her Way of Perfection. St. Teresa was a sixteenth-century Carmelite mystic who taught that the Lord (she called him "His Majesty") dwells in the center of our hearts, but that we must strip ourselves of everything -- even good things -- in order to reach that inner chamber.

If you find yourself embarking on this journey alone, and need someone to pray for you ... I'm here. Drop me a note at hsaxton(at)christianword(dot)com. God bless you!

Behold Your Mother: The Video

2008-04-17T13:14:00.001-07:00

This YouTube video was just sent to me by my online publicist, and I thought you might like to see it.

Excuse me now while I go find a tissue to wipe my eyes... God bless you!

April is Child Abuse Prevention Month ... (and Defend-Your-Church Month Too, It Seems)

2008-04-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

Today on my way to other things I stumbled on this post by "The Anchoress," in which she explains with eloquence and fire exactly why, in the wake of the scandals, most devout Catholics did not leave the Church (though they may well have changed parishes if it turned out that theirs was once of those affected by the predatory scorge).

On Friday, Catholic Exchange will be running an article I wrote about the USCCB declaration of April as Child Abuse Prevention Month. As you might anticipate, seeing as I adopted two children out of the foster care system, this is a topic I take very seriously ... and found myself defending in two separate quarters, one more expected than the other.

While I was not the least bit surprised that various disillusioned Catholics would find the bishops' pronouncement the height of hypocrisy, I was more than a bit put off by a second camp -- those Catholics who remain in the pews, and seem more put out by the "liturgical guides" that might raise the spectre of abuse within the liturgy (presumably during the prayers of the faithful) than that the scorge of abuse continues at all (though its form is somewhat different now).

I'm not sure which is more off-putting.

I was grateful that The Anchoress took it upon herself to address (as I found myself doing more than once this week) why Catholics simply don't leave the Church when it disappoints them. I liked this quote especially, in connection with the Obama-Wright fiasco:

So Obama may be asked “why did you not leave your pastor,” and a Catholic may be asked “why did you not leave your PARISH” - if the parish was one involved with the shameful priests or pastors. It is quite a different thing to ask, “why did you not leave your church.” If the writer does not understand that distinction then his whole point is unmade. Believing, as Catholics do, that the source and summit of our faith is the Holy Eucharist, which we believe to be the Real, Physical Body and Blood of Christ, “walking away” is not an option. You don’t “leave;” you fix the problem.

Amen, sister.

You don't leave when otherwise level-headed church family members get peevish when confronted with the fact that such abuses continue (most often from an altogether different quarter, including some much closer to home).

You don't leave (or turn tail and run) when otherwise reasonable cyber-buddies start their convoluted laundry lists of "Why no one in their right mind should still be calling themselves Catholic."

You don't leave even though for the first thirty years of your life, you switched churches for far less serious reasons -- sometimes simply for a change of scenery.

You don't leave when the extent of the abuse is publicized.

The reason is simple: Nowhere else in the world can you receive Jesus -- all of Him -- the way we receive Him in the One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic Church.

Thanks, Anchoress, for the reminder.

I can only Imagine - Catholic Version

2008-03-01T09:40:00.001-08:00

Thanks to Sarah Reinhard at "Just Another Day" (http://snoringscholar.blogspot.com)

Are you feeling lost?

2008-02-25T07:56:00.000-08:00

I've just been alerted to the existence of an apostolate called "Catholics Come Home" that is reaching out to those who have been away from the Church for some time through a series of multi-media presentations.

I particularly liked this one ... check it out!

Temporarily Closed for (Re)Construction

2008-02-16T18:02:00.000-08:00

For the next several months (I think) I will not be posting to this blog so that I can spend time with my new "Mary" blog, which I started in honor of the Blessed Mother, in thanksgiving for my new book, "Behold Your Mother."

I invite you to come and join us here. I'd especially like it if you would get in touch with me at hsaxton(at)christianword(dot)com if you have ...

* a favorite true "Mary story"

* a question about Mary

* a favorite Mary image you'd like to share

* a favorite Marian resource, prayer, or novena (especially one associated with a particular feast day).

I look forward to seeing you there!

Missteps and Mercy

2008-02-15T07:21:00.000-08:00

These past few days a series of events have led me think about the human tendency to make mistakes that require us to extend grace and mercy to others, just as God extends that grace and mercy to us when we deliberately choose sin. The primary difference is intentionality:

The thoughtless action (or omission)

The unintended offense

The hastily spoken (and poorly chosen) word

While these things do wound and grieve other people, we tend to gloss them over with, "But that's not what I MEANT! That's not what I INTENDED!"

Nevertheless, these "slips" do contain destructive seeds, capable of wounding and alienating those we hold dear.

This week I've found myself on both sides of the banana peel. I sent an impulsive "Valentine" to a few friends, which a chance comment from my sister made me realize that it might have struck some as suggestive. I saw it as a playful romp down memory lane ... then, after the fact, realized that it might have struck some as simply ... TMI. Oops.

Yesterday was especially hard. Two people, in the span of an hour, had me in tears because what I had needed from them and what I received were so completely and unexpectedly different. (I probably could have handled one, but not both.) In the first instance, I felt additional salt rubbed into the wound when this person turned the tables and informed me that it was I, not her, who needed to apologize. (I did, but later I felt so manipulated that I just got angry.)

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive

those who trespass against us."

The thing about trespasses is ... well, you don't always realize when you've invaded someone else's space, do you? And yet the offense is no less real for this lack of intention. What a great opportunity, then, for us to show mercy and do what we can to mend that breach.

Sometimes, that means letting something go, for the sake of the relationship.
Sometimes, it means giving the other person the benefit of the doubt.
Sometimes, it means adjusting the nature of the relationship itself.

Lord Jesus, thank you that when you came to earth to show us the way to heaven, you never held anything back. You gave everything you had, even life itself, to remind us of the Father's mercy. Help us to imitate our Heavenly Father in a more intentional way, this day and every day. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen!

Mary ... My Mother, Too?

2008-02-09T07:52:00.000-08:00

Years ago, as I contemplated becoming a Catholic, I had one point of difficulty that did not resolve itself immediately. It was this: Why should I pray to Mary, when I could go directly to Jesus anytime I wanted?

In time, I did come to understand the reasons Mary is so revered by the Church. I read the historical background and theological perspectives. I meditated on the writings of my brothers and sisters in faith. I pondered the Scriptures to bring the shadowy sketches of Jesus' mother into sharper focus.

But in the end, it wasn't until I became an adoptive mother that I came to appreciate the dynamics of this particular parent/child relationship ... and I write about it in my upcoming book entitled Behold Your Mother: Mary Stories and Reflections from a Catholic Convert (Bezalel Press). To order a copy with the special pre-pub rate, click here.

Catholic Carnival is ... Up and Running!

2008-01-29T07:14:00.001-08:00

Come join us at Kate Wicker's blog to read in the Lenten season at her wonderful rendition of Catholic Carnival! (My favorite post is Julie's post about Guardian Angels at "Adoro Te Devote.")

Movies and Books to Shape the Womanly Soul

2008-01-18T10:45:00.000-08:00

All of the resources mentioned in this post are available for your convenience in the "Highly Recommended Favorites" widget to the right. Enjoy!

Certain books and movies leave an indelible impression, especially those with characters that make a lasting contribution to the way we understand our place in the world. Some of these people are singularly courageous in love and life, others are fragile and even broken, yet they shine with undeniable gifts bubbling just beneath the surface.

Today I’d like to share with you ten of the book-and-movie heroines that have made a lasting impression on me. Some are historical, others are characters … all have some quality or characteristic or conviction that is sure to inspire.

1. Most recent discovery: Evelyn Ryan in The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio. (The image above is from this movie.) The book was based on the true story of the author's mother, Evelyn Ryan (Julianne Moore), an enterprising Catholic wife and mother of ten who used her pen to keep her family afloat during the “contest era” of the 1950s and 1960s. Married to a broken and disillusioned man (Woody Harrelson), Evelyn nevertheless raises her children in a home full of love and warmth, instilling in them the sense of adventure that she willingly set aside for herself.

Evelyn was a woman who was overshadowed by her circumstances. When her husband’s paycheck goes to pay for liquor instead of the family milk bill, Evelyn struggles to care for her children without shaming their alcoholic father – or losing herself. Refusing to resort to blaming or other indignities, she continues to show her husband patience, love, and respect … and wins the love, admiration, and deeply rooted loyalty of her children in the process.

2. Most unforgettable romance: Davy Vanauken in A Severe Mercy. When I managed to reach my mid-thirties without finding lasting love, I persevered largely because I knew such a love could indeed exist because I had read about it here. Though the story is (in the “Love Story” sense) tragic, it was a light for me because Vanauken paints a detailed roadmap not just of the “is” of love … but the “how” as well. In the next book, Under The Mercy, Vauauken paints the story of his journey into the source of all true Love. (The second book is on my “must reads” for converts.)

3. Most unforgettable love story: Amy Carmichael, who was the subject of Elisabeth Elliot's biography A Chance to Die. This Scotch Presbyterian spinster, the soul sister of Blessed Mother Teresa, nearly single-handedly rescued hundreds of Indian children from a fate worse than death as “temple children” and raised them at mission school she founded, Donavhur Fellowship. Like Mother Teresa, Amy did it by taking on herself the culture and ways of her host culture; unlike the dear saint of Calcutta, she did it without coming into the fullness of the faith. (Even so, I took “Amy” as my confirmation name, since her hymns were such a significant influence to my journey into the Church.) In movies, I get a similar rush from Ingrid Bergman in The Inn of the Sixth Happiness.

4. Love stronger than death: What Dreams May Come. When Annie Nielsen loses her husband and two children in separate auto accidents, she loses her mind and then takes her own life … and yet her husband Chris braves the very forces of hell to find her, knowing that even heaven would be empty without her. Rarely do you see the afterlife portrayed so vividly, with consideration of how one’s actions in this life have real consequences in the next. Second Glance, by Jodi Picoult, does the same thing in book form. The Great Divorce (C.S. Lewis) for those needing a good resource to give loved ones who don’t believe in Purgatory (or who don’t believe Lewis had Catholic tendencies).

5. Best Dog Story: Jenny Grogan in Marley & Me. I give this book to friends who have lost a pet. It cheered me up when nothing else could after Missy (my border collie) died. There is one scene in particular that is worth the price of the book: When Jenny miscarries, Marley instinctively comforts Jenny in a way even her husband could not.

6. Best Story I Wish I’d Written Myself: The title character in Christy (go for the book; the movie series didn’t do it justice). Young and impressionable, Christy Huddleson breaks out of the comfortable, upper-middle class mold in which she is raised to find herself in a most unexpected place: among the mountain people of Appalachia. Based on the life story of the author’s mother.

7. Saints I’d most like to follow around in heaven: St. Teresa of Avila, second only (maybe) to St. Scholastica (St. Benedict’s twin sister). To find out why, pick up a copy of her biography Teresa of Avila: An Extraordinary Life by Shirley du Boulay.

8. Best Story of Trust: These Strange Ashes, by Elisabeth Elliot, recounts the year of mission service before she and Jim were married. Every time I find myself in a no-win situation, I think of the anecdote in the final pages of this book.

9. Best Friendship: Fried Green Tomatoes. Despite the unhappy images of married life this movie contains, it reinforces the importance of having a good friend to lean on when life gets hard.

10. Family at Its Best: Cheaper by the Dozen. While the book is infinitely superior to either movie version, the earlier (black and white) is preferable to the 2003 Steve Martin/Bonnie Hunt disaster. About the only thing it has in common with the original book is the title. But Mrs. Gilbraithe … now there was a real Catholic woman.

Care to share your list? If you'd like to order any of these, I've put them in my "resources" section at "Mommy Monsters."

From "Deadly Sin" ... to Alive in Christ!

2008-01-10T17:35:00.000-08:00

From this weekend's readings:

If anyone sees his brother sinning, if the sin is not deadly, he should pray to God and he will give him life. This is only for those whose sin is not deadly. There is such a thing as deadly sin, about which I do not say that you should pray. All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that is not deadly. From 1 John 5:14-21

I don't know how I did it, but for the first thirty years of my life (including four years in Bible school), I managed to gloss over this passage in the Bible without ever stopping to think what it might mean. "Deadly" sin? Isn't all sin automatically forgiven the moment we become Christians?

Read it again. "If anyone sees his brother sinning..."

Therefore, we must assume that it is possible to fall out of grace through our own bad choices, even after we belong to God. This is what the early Church Fathers taught as well; they identified seven "deadly" sins: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth. Fortunately, the Church has always taught that by practicing the corresponding virtue, by God's grace, we can eradicate the habit of sin. These virtues include humility, trust, temperance, courage/modesty, compassion, generosity, and industry/prudence.

The Catechism distinguishes between mortal (deadly) and venial (not deadly) sin; sin that breaks our spiritual connection with God, vs. sin that damages but does not break it off altogether. Mortal ("deadly") sin, according to the Catechism meets three conditions: its object is "grave matter ... committed with full knowledge and deliberate consent" (CCC 1857).

The good news is that it is never too late to start over. There is no sin so great, but that God's love and mercy is not greater still. This is not cheap grace -- it cost God dearly to redeem the human race. Nor is that damage repaired without effort on our part. It requires repentance, restitution ... and, in some cases, a lifetime of deliberately and even painfully choosing the virtuous habit over the sinful one.

In the March/April issue of Canticle, I write about how I discovered this reality to be true in my own life, in an article called: "Tender Mercies: The Story of St. Faustina Kowalska" (to order a copy, call 800-558-5452). This was a difficult article to write -- I had to relive parts of my life that frankly I'd just as soon forget. And yet, I know there are others who (like I did) continue to struggle under the weight of the past. The good news is, you don't have to.

Lent is just around the corner now (is it possible?). And so it is a good time to take stock and resolve any outstanding issues that might still be niggling at your soul. Perhaps it's nothing that you've done, but something that was done to you. Something you can't get past, can't let go of.

Something just too awful to contemplate. I understand. More importantly, so does God.

As we enter the Lenten season, consider whether this might be the year to let the Great Physician plumb the depths of your heart, and take away that little hard spot you've never quite known what to do with. No matter how big and ugly it seems to you, it's nothing He can't handle. Go to Him and receive His healing touch in the sacrament of reconciliation. He's waiting for you!

Here's a song I grew up with, that I always think of when I remember that dark time in my life ... You can listen to it here. Here's the chorus:

He touched me, oh He touched me.
And oh, the joy that floods my soul.
Something happened, and now I know ...
He touched me, and made me whole.

God bless you!

In Memoriam: Pastor Carl Luthman

2008-01-01T13:28:00.001-08:00

I got a phone call today from my mother, and learned that Pastor Carl Luthman passed away on December 22. Pastor Luthman was my childhood pastor, when my family attended Lafayette Federated Church.

Pastor Luthman was a loving and generous man, and served God with all his heart and soul. He was remarkable in that his love extended even to those whose theology was significantly different from his own. He was intent on loving and serving Jesus; nothing else mattered.

I've known many Christians to profess that they "know" they are going straight to heaven when they die. Most of the time, I pray for them anyway when the time comes (just in case they find themselves in need of intercessors). In this case, however, I'd add, "And if you find yourself inside the gates as you expected, Pastor Luthman, then please pray for me!"

Eternal rest grant to him, O Lord,
And may perpetual light shine upon him.
May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed,
Rest in peace.

Thoughts for the New Year

2008-01-01T09:02:00.000-08:00

Sarah at "Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering" has posted the new Catholic Carnival. Her blog is a fun-and-informative read anytime ... but she really rocks with the Carnivals! Be sure to check it out!

“Let us look at our own shortcomings and leave other people’s alone, for those who live carefully ordered lives are apt to be shocked at everything, and we might well learn very important lessons from the persons who shock us.” (Teresa of Avila)

"There's a tendency among some Christians to assume they are always right because the Lord is on their side. The problem is, this type of thinking makes the Christian only one step removed from being God Himself. As a consequence, it's pretty easy for such a person to accept even his most base emotions, opinions, or reactions as nearly divine and, therefore, correct." (Eric Scheske, "God on the Sleeve")

This post is going to be uncharacteristically brief. I'm home alone with two little squirrels, and Mother Nature has just dumped over a foot of white stuff outside that they seem DETERMINED to bring back inside. But Carnival is coming, and I wanted to give Sarah something to pick from.

Recently Mark Shea wrote an article on the liberty of the believer that provided a useful glimpse into the freedom -- intellectual and otherwise -- that the Church extends to the faithful. While there are some ideas that are the bedrock of the faith, absolute and non-negotiable truths, Mark's article reminded me how much latitude the Lord gives us to experience and explore the world around us, and to learn from each other.

My resolution this year: More listening. Less judging. Especially of those I love most.

Me? Evangelize?

2007-12-21T15:23:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, dear readers! This week if you have a little extra time in your Christmas stocking, be sure to join Ebeth at A Catholic Mum Climbing the Pillars, where she has posted the Christmas edition of "Catholic Carnival" this week. Thanks, Ebeth!

“...there is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know him and to talk to others of our friendship with him”. (CDF, "Doctrinal Note on Some Aspects of Evangelization," 7).
Lately I've been thinking about what it means to "evangelize," something we as Catholics are all called to do. As a convert to the faith, it occurs to me that my perspective on this subject may be somewhat different from that of some cradle Catholics.

First, I have experienced firsthand effective evangelization (as opposed to "evangelism," the word most frequently used by Evangelical Christians). My preconceptions and misgivings about the Church crumbled like a proverbial house of cards largely thanks to the dedicated friendships of brothers and sisters in Christ who took to heart the admonition of St. Francis of Assisi: "Preach the Gospel; when necessary, use words."

Ordinary, Extraordinary Grace

Ironically, none of these grace-filled individuals were apologists or catechists. Rather, they were "ordinary" and usually soft-spoken channels of extraordinary grace.

The Catholic college friend who continued to support me in my missionary work (in Senegal) even after she learned that I hesitated to take her money because she wasn't a "real" Christian.

The Catholic mother of a school friend who visited me in the hospital and figured out how to wash my hair for the first time in many weeks.

The Catholic boyfriend (I write about him in greater detail in the March/April issue of "Canticle) whose example made me search out for myself whether Catholics are, in fact, "saved."

I do not write these things to minimize the importance of catechetics and apologetics. Once my heart was open to receive truth, my mind was persuaded by the books and tapes and teachings. Like many converts, I soaked up the eloquence of Scott Hahn, Karl Keating, and (in my case) Sheldon Vanauken. But my heart was wooed and won by the patient, unfailing love of simple humility ... and sheer grace.

And so, I read with interest the Holy Father's recent letter on evangelization, and his acknowledgment that this important work is about much more than imparting dogma. He writes: "... to evangelize does not mean simply to teach a doctrine, but to proclaim Jesus Christ by one’s words and actions, that is, to make oneself an instrument of his presence and action in the world" (CDF, "DNSAE", 2).

Evangelization vs. "Evangelism"

Which brings me to the second half of my reflection on evangelization, namely, my experiences of evangelism (i.e. my efforts to bring others to Christ as an Evangelical Christian).

I had nearly completed my Bible school studies when a certain guest lecturer addressed my class on the importance of "church planting." Soon the idea caught on, and many of my classmates made exalted plans to form teams and go off to the most remote parts of the world to start a church (in most cases, having never started one here at home).

This didn't make sense to me; I had decided my time was better spent by reaching out to local immigrants and teaching them English as a Second Language (ESL). I said as much to one of my professors, who actually patted me on the head and said, "That's OK, Heidi. You go ahead and teach English ... the rest of us will get on with God's work!"

I had been instructed in the finer points of street preaching, door-to-door witnessing, and homiletics. I wasn't afraid to witness to the truth. But it seemed to me that the most effective witness is based not on sheer eloquence alone, but on relationship. And that, I realized, required time. I had listened with an increasing sense of discomfort as classmates (and a few of my teachers) come back from "witnessing," declaring with great pride how they had silenced their opponent with their finely honed arguments. They had stripped away lies and exposed falsehoods, lobbing Bible verses like so many Molotov cocktails. As I listened, however, I wondered: Is the whole point of evangelism to silence opponents, or lead them to Jesus?

When I raised this point, however, they silenced me as well. "Don't you know, Heidi, that while you're teaching nouns and verbs and ladling soup, souls are going to hell every day? Don't you know that, because you have not shared the Gospel as clearly and forcefully as you should, YOU are responsible for their fate?"

Squirming at the possibility that they might be right, I began to take a more direct approach, spending part of each "lesson" trying to persuade people to accept Jesus. The sense of urgency began to border on obsession. What if this was the last time I ever saw these people, and they died that night without ever praying the Sinner's Prayer? Would they one day (at the Judgment Seat) accuse me of not trying hard enough to show them the truth?

There was another problem as well: It began to dawn on me that I had become so preoccupied with the state of other people's souls, I did not give much thought to my own. I had already "accepted Jesus," you see -- and so there was no need to worry about the state of my own soul. I was going to heaven. Gossip ... resentment ... anger ... even lies. None of it mattered, or so I thought; the blood of Jesus covered me.

Years later, I was struck by the fact that no one -- not even the director of the RCIA program -- used an ounce of force to convince me to become Catholic. "Don't worry, Heidi," she consoled me when I confessed a few weeks before the Vigil that I still didn't "feel at peace" about joining them. "If you decide not to enter the Church at this Vigil, God may have other plans for you. Obviously you love God and want to do His will. Relax, and let things unfold a bit more. There is no hurry ... God has all the time in the world."

It was precisely what I needed to hear. The knot in the pit of my stomach unraveled, and I went to my first sacramental confession knowing that -- whatever else happened to me -- God knew my heart belonged to Him.

"...every activity of the Church has an essential evangelizing dimension and must never be separated from the commitment to help all persons to meet Christ in faith, which is the primary objective of evangelization: 'Social issues and the Gospel are inseparable. When we bring people only knowledge, ability, technical competence and tools, we bring them too little'" (CDF, "DNSAE", 2).

Church Girl Runs Home ... to Rome
This is the title of my conversion story, part of which I have already written about here. It has been a little disorienting, at times, to encounter Catholics who -- with all the best intentions -- "defend" Christ and His Church with the same zeal I used to encounter in the Evangelical camp. I have to remind myself that zeal has its place, that truth sometimes does cut like a sword, that the "faith warrior" has an important place in the Kingdom of God.

And yet, there is room for the more cautious among us as well. There is a need for medics as well as soldiers; mothers who nurture as well as fathers who lead. In His Mercy, God has given me a glimpse of certain dangers so I can avoid them. To do that, He led me from church to church -- and at times, even from country to country.

As a "Cross-Cultural Catholic," I depend on God's grace to carry on the work He gives me to do with a measure of humility and prudence, knowing how easy it can be to fall.

"Indeed, since the day of Pentecost, the Church has manifested the universality of her mission, welcoming in Christ the countless riches of peoples from all times and places in human history. Beyond its intrinsic anthropological value, every encounter with another person or culture is capable of revealing potentialities of the Gospel which hitherto may not have been fully explicit and which will enrich the life of Christians and the Church. Thanks to this dynamism, 'tradition, which comes from the Apostles, makes progress in the Church by the help of the Holy Spirit'” (CDF, DNSAE, 6).

Venite Adoremus ...

2007-12-14T06:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I got a card in the mail from my daughter's religious education teacher, thanking me for inviting her to our church's Advent tea. I was so touched that she would make such a special effort (a lovely handwritten note accompanied the card) to thank me for the invitation. Especially since she goes to so much trouble every week to help my daughter to grow up to know and love God!

Her note reminded me of how little it takes sometimes to be a force for good in another person's life. As Catholics, we are sometimes hesitant to extend an invitation to church to a friend or neighbor. This is one area that comes more readily to converts (at least those from evangelical traditions), who have been on the receiving end of that invitation, and know what a difference that casual invitation can make!

Is there someone in your life God is asking you to reach out to, to show some "spiritual hospitality" to this individual? Perhaps for midnight Mass, or Christmas morning (followed by brunch). Or perhaps it is a softly-spoken word of correction or insight at the holiday table. Sometimes a gentle prompting is all that is needed to return a lost sheep to the safety of the fold!

Death of Evel

2007-12-03T05:54:00.000-08:00

This week's Catholic Carnival (#148) is being hosted by Bryan Murdaugh. Stop by and see some of the thought provoking posts that were contributed this week!

Bobby "Evel" Knievel, the 70s icon of daring-do, has died. At 69, he had spent most of his adult life defying death and avoiding the IRS, but in the end Knievel did not prevail ... at least, not with the Grim Reaper.

I didn't know Mr. Knievel, who was a complex figure even to those who knew him well. Last year he "found God" at Robert Schuller's Crystal Cathedral, where the Rev. Schuller, Sr., baptized him after a profession of faith.

This much I do know: To suggest that we can "ride like the devil" for most of our lives with impunity, so long as we pay God a certain amount of lip service before the final credits roll, is a gamble even more foolhardy than Mr. Knievel's ill-fated leap across the Snake River.

Authentic faith gives us courage to walk the purgative, illuminative, and unitive way; step by step, we extricate ourselves by God's grace from the stubborn bits of self that keep us from experiencing the Fatherhood of God in a way that is ... well, childlike.

Many Christians go through life presuming on the mercy of God. This is the single most damnable flaw of "sola fidae": Those who think they have found a spiritual loophole in God's system of cosmic justice. They don't worry about the long-term effects of pride, or greed, or even lust; they can point to a place and time when they prayed the "Sinner's Prayer," they trust their name has been written in the Lamb's Book of Life in indelible ink. But Jesus warns ...

"Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? And in thy name have cast out devils? And in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I NEVER KNEW YOU: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.” (Matt 7:20-23)

Read that again. Now, who in their right mind would prophesy and exorcise demons and even minister in the name of Christ, who did not also sincerely believed himself (or herself) to be a Christian? Does this sound like someone unfamiliar with the Scriptures? Like someone who has never responded to an altar call?

God never intended any of us to be a spiritual Lone Ranger. Unfortunately, this tale of spiritual isolationism is found again and again in Church history -- both ancient and present day, up to and including church hoppers and shoppers. All of them "feel led" or believe "God told me" to put their own souls in spiritual jeopardy, never considering the possibility that the still, small voice to which they were listening might have malevolent intentions. For centuries men and women have twisted the Scriptures to fit their preconceived agendas; they "felt led" ... all the way to hell.

Which is why Jesus did not leave us with a book ... but with a body of believers who were entrusted to pass His message on to others. He knew a book could be misinterpreted and misconstrued (even with the very best of intentions), and that His Holy Spirit could keep the sheep safe only so long as they stayed in the fold. "I am the Good Shepherd..."

In his new encyclical, Spe Salvi, the Holy Father instructs the faithful on the hidden realities behind the sacrament of Baptism, the rite by which all believers are united in saving faith:

[Baptism] is not just an act of socialization within the community, not simply a welcome into the Church. The parents expect more for hte one to be baptized: they expect that faith, which includes the corporeal nature of the Church and her sacraments, will give life to their child -- eternal life. Faith is the substance of hope. But then the question arises: do we really want this -- to live eternally? Perhaps many people reject the faith today simply because they do not find the prospect of eternal life attractive. What they desire is not eternal life at all, but this present life, for which faith in eternal life seems something of an impediment. Spe Salvi 10

Do the absolute claims of Christ and His Church make you uncomfortable? Do not put too much store in your own "feelings," or blame the tuggings of your own preconceived ideas of how God operates on the Holy Spirit. Jesus never said that the narrow way would be easy or well-lit. (Though He did promise respite for those weary of the struggle.) Instead He calls us to be soldiers, giving us weapons equal to the battle. He fortifies us with sacraments of initiation and healing, and sends us out to do battle -- first, within ourselves.

As we enter this Advent season, let us always keep in mind that the enemy's greatest trick is one of distraction. So long as our eyes are on the perceived "enemy," he is free to work all kinds of mischief in us. The subtle (or not so subtle) spiritual pride that causes us to look down on a brother or sister in Christ, the feelings of anger and offense at some perceived slight, the "busyness" that keeps us from choosing the work God most wants us to accomplish.

One of my spiritual mothers, Amy Carmichael, wrote a lovely hymn that expresses it so well (to the tune "Faith of Our Fathers":

From Prayer That Asks

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fainting when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher.
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me!

From subtle love of softening things
From easy choices, weakenings
Not thus are spirits fortified
Not this way went Thy Crucified
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that would burn like fire!
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, O Flame of God.

The Woman Behind the Man ... Mrs. Carol Paul

2007-11-28T19:21:00.001-08:00

I recently came upon this essay written by Dr. Ron Paul's wife, and wanted to share it with those who are interested in learning a bit more about the background of this impressive presidential candidate. She's every bit as impressive as her husband -- sounds like ideal First Lady material!

Catholics for Ron Paul ... a flicker of hope in the dismal American Political Landscape.

2007-11-28T18:01:00.000-08:00

Recently my interest was piqued by a group I encountered who have found what appears to be a presidential candidate faithful Catholics can vote for with enthusiasm. "Catholics for Ron Paul." are enthusiastically endorsing this straight-talking bundle of integrity, Dr. Congressman Ron Paul, as someone to take note of for a variety of reasons (not the least of which is he might give the Grand Old State of Texas reason to hold its head high again):

* He has an uncompromisingly pro-life record, having himself delivered more than 4000 children in his obstetric career, many of them for little or no pay (he won't take Medicaid). That alone is reason to make a hefty donation to his campaign, which you may do by clicking here.

* He is best known in Washington for his reluctance to spend a dime of taxpayer's money on anything not expressly provided for in the U.S. Constitution (he has refused both the "cadillac" medical plan to which those on Capital Hill are entitled and the standard, unbelievably generous retirement package to which he is also entitled on the grounds that a public servant should not live better than his constituents). As you might imagine, this has not made him exceedingly popular among career politicians ... but to those of us who have watched with growing dismay as the current administration continues to spend money we don't have, to fight for "democracy" in countries that do not appear to be wildly excited about the idea while our own people are struggling to stay afloat, this guy is a breath of fresh air.

* He is a staunch advocate of subsidiarity, a principle of Catholic social justice that indicates that problems are best handled by those closest to it who have been given the power to exact necessary change. For example, this post at CRP discusses how the press has twisted Paul's stand on prostitution, which is that it should be removed from Federal control and handed back to individual states. (This is similar to what would happen to the "right to abortion" in the event Roe v. Wade is overturned.)

* Barring a miracle (one we would all do well to work together for), the truth is that right now Congressman Paul has a hard battle ahead of him to make it anywhere near the White House (he ran on the Libertarian ticket once before and garnered less than a half a million votes). However, he is absolutely a candidate we could (and perhaps should) vote for with a clear conscience. Paul's book A Foreign Policy of Freedom is a startlingly insightful and timely read for anyone wondering how the heck we are ever going to extricate ourselves from the Middle-Eastern Mess. I'd like to offer a few examples here for your general edification:

"The responsibility of the administration and Congress is to promote security for our nation and to seek peace and harmony with all nations. Pursuing a policy of free trade with all and not giving aid to allies or potential adversaries would do more to enhance peace and properity than any attempt to guarantee borders in the Middle East or anywhere else" (1983, p. 22-23)
"Thousands of men and women have come and gone here ... except for the few, most go unnoticed and remain nameless in the pages of history, as I'm sure I will be. The few who are remembered are those who were able to grab the reins of power and, for the most part, use that power to the detriment of the nation. We must remember achieving power is never the goal sought by a truly free society. Dissipation of power is the objective of those who love liberty" (p.40).
"We pay for bridges and harbors throughout the world and neglect our own. If we feel compulsion to spend and waste money, it would make more sense at least to waste it at home. We build highways around the world, raise gasoline taxes here, and routinely dodge potholes on our own highways. Why do we cut funding for day care centers and Head Start programs before cutting aid to the Communists, Socialists, and international bankers?" (p.47).
"The idea that support for the troops once they are engaged means we must continue the operation, no matter how ill-advised, and perpetuate a conflict that makes no sense is what President Clinton is depending on..." (1997, regarding Bosnian conflict, p.61).
"We urge the Catholics and Protestants to talk to each other; we urge the Israelis and Palestinians to talk to each other. Even at the height of the Cold War, when the Soviet Union had missiles pointed at us from 90 miles away in Cuba, we solved the dispute through dialogue and diplomacy. Why is it, in this post-Cold War era, that the United States seems to turn first to the military to solve its foreign policy problems? Is diplomacy dead?" (2001, in opposition to the U.S. House Resolution on Iraq, p.183).
"Excessive meddling in the internal affairs of other nations and involving ourselves in every conflict around the globe has not endeared the U.S. to the oppressed of the world. ... To dismiss terrorism as the result of Muslims hating us because we're rich and free is one of the greatest foreign-policy frauds ever perpetuated on the American people" (2003, p.244-45)

In Memoriam: Jane Denton, wife of Senator Jeremiah Denton, Jr.

2007-11-24T05:55:00.000-08:00

This post is featured at Catholic Carnival #147, hosted this week by Jay at "Living Catholicism." To check out other quality Catholic writing, click here.

While I don't typically publish other people's work here, I received this in the mail today from Judy at CatholicMilitary.org and wanted to pass it along as an example of how Catholics can and do make a difference in public life. Please say a prayer for Jane and her whole family.

In Thanksgiving for Jane Denton
by Judy McCloskey

On Thanksgiving Day (22Nov2007), after suffering a heart attack, surgery, and postop complications, Mrs. Jane Denton, wife of Senator Jeremiah Denton, passed away. Jane married Jeremiah the day he graduated from the US Naval Academy on 06June1946. Together, they had seven children. Nineteen years and one month into their marriage, her husband’s plane was shot down over enemy lines during the Vietnam War. Then Captain Jeremiah Denton spent the next eight years in a communist POW camp, four of those years spent in solitary confinement.

A year after his capture, during a recorded propaganda campaign forcing POWs to confess to humane treatment under threat of brutal torture – Capt Denton blinked, using Morse code to communicate: TORTURE. His taped interrogation having reached America, intelligence recognized and understood: US prisoners in Vietnam were in fact being tortured. A 1½ minute excerpt can be viewed at the National Archives website:

While Jerry was captive and tortured, Jane remained strong in her Catholic faith, prayerfully and steadfastly devoted to the souls on her spiritual radar. Jane worked tirelessly raising their children and became an activist for POW and MIA families. She helped found the National League of Families of Prisoners of War and Missing in Action, credited with contributing to the ultimate release of her husband and numerous other POWs. Jerry was finally released, authored “When Hell Was in Session”, retired as Admiral, elected Senator of Alabama, and founded the ADM Jeremiah Denton Foundation, dedicated to keeping America “one nation under God.”

In 1985, then Secretary of the Navy invited Mrs. Jane Denton to sponsor the USS Mobile Bay. The ship was commissioned in Mobile, AL, hometown to both Jerry and Jane Denton. The Naval Historical Society explains “When a woman accepts the invitation to sponsor a new ship, she has agreed to stand as the central figure in an event with a heritage reaching backward into the dim recesses of recorded history…. The tradition, meaning, and spiritual overtones remain constant. The vast size, power, and unpredictability of the sea must certainly have awed the first sailors to venture far from shore. Instinctively, they would seek divine protection for themselves and their craft….”

Understanding well her sponsorship role, in September 2002, one year after 9/11 when “her ship” prepared to deploy to Afghanistan, Jane Maury Denton, urged Mobile residents and others "to remember the ship and the crew in their prayers."

"My pleasure at receiving the honor is multiplied by my love for the Navy, my concern for our national defense, and my pride in having a fine ship named for Mobile Bay," Jane once said.

Jane’s children are living testimony to her vocation as an iconic military wife, mother and patriot. “She was the most faithful, selfless and dedicated wife and mother," says Michael Denton.

"She never stopped giving," says William.

Jane will be sorely missed, but long remembered as an exemplary Catholic Navy wife. Perhaps God called her on Thanksgiving Day as a reminder of the gift Jane is. For military wives looking for an example to emulate, there is Mrs. Jane Denton. Ask her now to intercede for you. Nothing will stop this woman of grace from giving completely of herself, in this life or the next.

Judy McCloskey writes from her home in the Arlington Diocese. She is the founder of Catholics in the Military.

A Partnership of Love

2007-11-11T20:45:00.000-08:00

Last night was the annual Cana Dinner, a time for couples to reconnect with each other and with members of the faith community over good food, a bit of wine, and a turn on the dance floor. Craig and I usually dust off the steps we learned at the U of M Ballroom Dance Club … but since my back has been a little on the hinky side, we content ourselves with a slow swing instead of a flashy cha-cha-cha.

This time the speaker was Steve Ray, who talked with us about “Men, Sex, and Heaven.” He explained that while husbands seek out sex – with or without romance and commitment – wives crave romance. Understanding this basic difference between the sexes does not come naturally to many couples. And yet it is a vital component of the kind of “oneness” God intended us to enjoy in the sacrament of matrimony.

Later, as I contemplated the message that evening, I wondered if this kind of mutuality had an application to the spiritual life as well, particularly with regard to the Mass. As Christ offers himself to us in the sacrament of the Eucharist, is there a corresponding yearning for intimacy on the part of the Bride?

As a convert to the faith, I grew up believing that God wanted a warm and intimate relationship with me. I did not know about the Eucharist, but I had been taught to cling to the Word, to study it closely for the personal messages God had for me each day. God and I spent hours together, me at the piano singing out into the dark, trusting that there was One who heard, and was pleased by my love offering. I was part of a “church family” that I depended upon for instruction and support. But ultimately it was that one-on-one intimacy cultivated through prayer and simple obedience.

When I was confirmed, I was overjoyed to be able to receive Jesus in the Eucharist at last. I was also delighted to be a part of the universal Body of Christ, the true unity that Jesus always intended for his Church. And yet, some of my fellow Catholics puzzled me:

The guy who would huff impatiently when someone tried to greet him before Mass … or when Mass went longer than the proscribed hour.

The self-appointed liturgy critic who spends twenty minutes after each Mass complaining about the music not being “Catholic” enough.

“Devout” Catholics so intent on worshipping the King of Kings with reverence and awe, they seem to forget that this King is also Father, Son, Spirit … and the great Lover of our souls.

I had to wonder: Was there some kind of deliberate “distancing” at work here? While I had come to recognize the deception of being guided solely by “feelings” in spiritual matters, it occurred to me that it was possible to go to the opposite extreme as well. Guided solely by the obligations and duties of “practicing” the faith, one could spend a lifetime in polite “worship” without ever having an encounter with the living Lord.

What a tragedy.

Just as a marriage is about more than a license – and far more than a perpetual teenage crush – faith must be more than going through the motions. Sometimes a Bride needs a little “romance.” A sense that God is listening, that he cares. And so, it was with a sense of great relief that I read this passage from the Catechism:

1108 In every liturgical action the Holy Spirit is sent in order to bring us into communion with Christ and so to form his Body. The Holy Spirit is like the sap of the Father's vine which bears fruit on its branches.[26] The most intimate cooperation of the Holy Spirit and the Church is achieved in the liturgy. The Spirit who is the Spirit of communion, abides indefectibly in the Church. For this reason the Church is the great sacrament of divine communion which gathers God's scattered children together. Communion with the Holy Trinity and fraternal communion are inseparably the fruit of the Spirit in the liturgy.[27]

The nature of communion, of worship, is supposed to be a life giving “intimate cooperation” between the Spirit and the Bride – and, by extension, involve real communion between each of the members. We are to enter in to the mystery, not holding back any part of ourselves out of a misguided sense of propriety.

This is the fiat of the Bride, responding with joy to her Groom.

Cultivating "The Heart of a Saint" (Bert Ghezzi, Word Among Us)

2007-11-05T19:36:00.001-08:00

I blame my mother. She named me "Heidi" after the charming Alpine maiden in Johanna Spyri's classic novel, not realizing the name means "battle maiden." And I've been living up to the moniker ever since. I tend to leave strong impressions -- and form even stronger ones.

I am also a pragmatist. The publishing industry is, first and foremost, about building relationships. Therefore, prudence dictated that I find a way to get along even with those people who do not naturally appeal to me.

Fortunately, I had a mentor in Bert Ghezzi, who has exceptional people skills; he taught me how to find the good even in the most challenging of personalities.

This was key to getting along with dislikeable people: finding something good to appreciate. Learn financial planning from the miser, self-discipline from the hardnosed, patience with the flaky, and discretion from the sneaky. It was also Bert who taught me that each personal strength has a less-desirable "flip side." Instead of resisting someone's bossiness, for example, I can appreciate her organizational skills. So often the characteristics we most dislike in others are qualities we struggle with ourselves.

Loving the Unlovable ... by Example

Thanks to Bert, I learned two failproof ways to get along with difficult people: pray for them, and show kindness to them. By praying for that person, the negative emotional energy lifts and is replaced with an extraordinary sense of peace. And by looking for ways to show kindness to him or her, the walls between us are broken down, brick by brick.

In his book, "The Heart of a Saint," author Bert Ghezzi quotes St. John Baptist de la Salle (d.1719), who said:

"Decide never to speak of the failings of others, nor to reprimand them, no matter how serious they seem to you. When you see someone fall into some fault, call to mind the gospel saying, 'You can see the splinter in your brother's eye, but you cannot see the beam in your own.' (see Matthew 7:3).

Throughout the rest of the book, Bert recounts with warm, tantalizing detail the stories of holy men and women who embodied these and other important ways to grow closer to God. From the community orientation of St. Angela Merici, to the evangelistic zeal of Pope John Paul II and the holy perseverance of St. Jane de Chantal, each of these holy heroes teach us another aspect of living the Christian life with security and confidence.

The Secret of the Sycamore

2007-11-04T16:16:00.000-08:00

From today's first reading, from the book of Wisdom ...

Before the LORD the whole universe is as a grain from a balance
or a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth.
But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
and you overlook people's sins that they may repent. ...

Have you ever stopped to think about how many difficult people you encounter in the span of a single week? The self-righteous, the proud, the self-involved, the unbelievably obtuse?

Have you ever stopped to consider how much of your mental and emotional energy is spent trying to change, exhort, or educate people determined to wallow in their blissful ignorance? Who seem not the least bit grateful ... some seem even a bit put out ... when you take it upon yourself to point out the error of their ways?

Today's first reading offers a bit of useful perspective. "You have mercy on all ... and overlook people's sins that they may repent." God -- the most powerful being in the entire universe -- does not force people along the path of transformation at gunpoint, or even an irrefutible blast of rhetoric.

No, His methods are infinitely more effective. His are the ways of irresistible love.

Jesus embodied this force of love throughout His earthly ministry. In today's Gospel, He un-trees the diminuitive Zaccheus with a message of staggering import: "Hey, c'mon down. Guess who's coming to your house for dinner tonight?"

As a woman, my sympathies are with Mrs. Zaccheus, who must have fainted dead away to find 13 extra guests on her doorstep for dinner that night. If she was anything like my mother, she would have kept her mouth shut and put another pan of biscuits in the oven.

Zaccheus, of course, had his mind on other things. This was a man determined to Make Amends. To his neighbors and less charitable business associates, he was a "sinner," a "play-a" determined to make his first million -- and ingratiate himself to the powers that be -- by stealing food out of the mouths of his own people.

But Jesus saw something different. He saw a man determined to make things right. He saw a man who was willing to make himself look ridiculous ... so long as he got to see the Nazarene.

It's a question worth considering: Just what am I willing to do in order to see Jesus truly?

Am I willing to look ridiculous in the eyes of my friends and family?

Am I willing to venture along a path that I never thought I'd go?

Am I willing to release from judgment those who scorn me, simply because I have a different perspective?

Am I willing to relinquish everything I hold most dear, so long as I get to see Jesus?

"Yes, Lord. Won't you come in and stay at my house today?"

For All the Saints

2007-11-01T14:40:00.000-07:00

Please join me today at "Mommy Monsters" for my tribute to All Saints Day.

Catholic Carnival #141 Is Up!

2007-10-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

Matthew at "Be the Dad" has posted the latest Catholic Carnival here. Be sure to check it out!

Summer in Senegal

2007-10-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

The heat of the day was still steaming in waves off the sand as the plane descended, touching down upon the Senegalese countryside. I was barely twenty, and was about to begin a year of internship at a mission school. By day I taught ESL and helped as I could around the school. Nights and weekends I studied French, explored the city, and became active at the mission church, Mission Uni Mondial (United World Mission).

The leadership of the small cement-block chapel had within the past few years transitioned from mission to national control. Pastor Jose and his wife Frans-Lise, along with the associate Pastor Timothy, had been asking God to send them someone who could play the electronic keyboard for worship services. It seemed that I was to be the answer to that prayer.

And in a funny way, they were the answer to mine as well. Six college students -- two women from Nigeria, plus four men from Chad, Cote d'Ivoire, Togo, and Camaroon -- made up the rest of the band, and together we traveled out in the bush from time to time for evangelistic concerts. (I couldn't say much, but managed to keep up with the driving percussion section.) The songs themselves were French translations of the hymns I knew by heart ... though they sounded nothing like the reverent vespers I sang as a child. A full percussion section drove the strings and bass, with vocalists swaying and carrying the tune with a high-pitched falsetto that initially grated on my ears ... and I'm sure would have assaulted the sensibilities of the original composers. But it was the sound of Africa, plain and simple.

L'Estranger

That year was one of the most formative experiences of my life. Later, I majored in international studies and communications, and came to understand some of the sociological nuances of cross-cultural relations. I learned first-hand how deeply held convictions can be shaken to the core when confronted with those who do not share the same assumptions. Even more significant, I learned how cultural biases color religious sensibilities. While Jesus came to save the whole world, each culture tends to interpret that message through the lens of their collective experience.

For example, shortly after I made friends with these college students it came to my attention that each of them were able to attend the University of Dakar because their respective countries had fronted the money for their education with the understanding that they would return and work off their debt in service -- those who had received a medical degree would work for a government clinic, those who had studied foreign languages in the diplomatic corp, and so on. I also saw that, at least in Senegal, manual labor was considered demeaning, and so it was often the women who were forced to support their families through domestic service. This inequity bothered me. Weren't the men ashamed to force their wives to tie their children to their backs and scrub floors on hands and knees, while they lounged at home?

I was commenting on this to my new friends, who happened to be at my home one evening for dinner (I introduced them to the wonders of spaghetti). "Tell me, Rene," I said to the one who was usually most amiable and patient with my linguistic faux pas. "What is it that motivates you to study so hard and try to better your situation, when you will be forced to support a large number of idle relatives, many of whom are perfectly capable of working but refuse?"

He looked at me sharply, and hesitated. I could see he was trying to give me the benefit of the doubt ... but could not find the basis for it. Finally, he sputtered, "How can you call yourself a Christian and be unwilling to take care of your own family? I've never heard of such a thing!"

How I wished at that moment I could slurp my words back into my mouth as readily as those noodles. I was grateful when someone else turned the conversation, leaving me to ponder what I had just learned.

L'Estranger... Encore!

Fast forward a decade or so, and I found myself on the edge of bridging yet another cultural divide -- this one even more complex than what I had experienced in Senegal because it involved changing not just cultures but allegiances. Intellectually I was confident that I was making the right choice; emotionally, I was back on the plane, looking out the window at the unfamiliar landscape as I prepared to walk away from everything that was familiar and safe. It was the right thing to do ... still, I lingered at the edge of my seat, a lump in my throat. And in the stillness, I remembered the haunting little melody based on Psalm 23 that had become especially dear to me while tinkling the ivories out in the African bush.

L’Eternel est mon Berger ! De rien je ne manque;

L'Eternel est mon Berger, de rien je ne manquerai....

(The Eternal One is my Shepherd, there is nothing I need.
The Eternal One is my Shepherd, there is nothing more I want.)

And so, today when I came across this rendition of the "Our Father," sung by Father HoLung and the Missionaries of Charity, I understood that the images of the exuberant singing, and of the joyful procession all the way up to the altar would be disturbing to some.

But when I read of this priest's work among the poor and marginalized, I couldn't help it. I just had to sing along. (For those who are interested, here is more about the Missionaries to the Poor. Here is also a link from EWTN on a related story.)

Lambs Among Wolves

2007-10-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

“I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals;and greet no one along the way.Into whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him;but if not, it will return to you….”
From today’s Gospel reading: Luke 10:1-9

In both readings today, we are reminded that those who teach the faith will experience resistance … and that this resistance may come from an unexpected corner: from those who already profess belief. In the first reading (from 2 Timothy 4:10-16), we read that “Alexander the coppersmith” resisted the teaching of the Apostle Paul with such eloquence that he lured others away from the faith as well. In the words of St. Paul, the coppersmith “did me great harm.”

Why would Alexander – or anyone else, for that matter – be so presumptuous? Why didn’t he recognize and submit to St. Paul’s apostolic authority? Clearly, the man had his own “agenda,” his own sphere of influence he was determined to defend.

The human story is full of such political intrigue: alliances and power struggles, battles fought with words intended to wound or destroy not only the opponent’s argument, but his or her reputation as well. We get the sense that there were times when even the Apostle Paul experienced this kind of betrayal … “At my first defense no one appeared on my behalf, but everyone deserted me!”

How painful this must have been for Paul, to experience this kind of betrayal! Calling for his parchments (written documents) and papyrus scrolls, he set about conveying his teachings through a more lasting method: writing them down. By this response, the apostle teaches by example an important spiritual principle: Sometimes God leads His people by opening doors … other times, by allowing obstacles to be placed in the path so that we choose a different door.

Pathways of Charity

In the Gospel, the Lord warns that He sends His followers “like lambs among wolves.” Indirectly He also hints at “wolves in sheep’s clothing,” those who tear down and divide the flock from within. He offers away that His children can recognize like-minded souls: the mutual exchange of peace. Love lived out in humble service.

This has practical applications for us. In our efforts to “defend the faith,” do we couch our arguments hoping others will admire our well-polished intellect? Or do we harbor a shameful tendency to build up our own reputations at the expense of other believers – or, worse, those who are still searching for the fullness of the truth?

Do we practice humility, recognizing that when all is said and done we are primarily students, not teachers? Do we eagerly search for (and pick apart) minor flaws in another’s viewpoint, instead of trying to learn from another’s insights?

Is our highest priority being faithful to the task God has given us, or are we preoccupied with our reward—whether financial, emotional, or relational? (A fellow blogger reminded me of this recently, wisely advising me to focus on writing quality content, and trust God to get that word into the right hands.)

“Knowledge puffs up; love grows up.” Our first parents were separated from God because they chose to eat from the “tree of knowledge of good and bad” (Gen 2:17), choosing the desire to be like God over the desire to know God. And so, as St. Paul reminds us, the surest pathway to sanctity … is charity.

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing; if tongues, they will cease; if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing. For we know partially and we prophesy partially, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.
When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child;
when I became a man, I put aside childish things. At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.

1 Corinthians 13:4-12

Healing Thoughts

2007-10-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

One of my greatest pleasures as a parent has been teaching my children the little songs my mother taught me. She never did it by halves -- her songs always had energetic hand and body movements, and dramatic intonations. There was no mumbling into a hymnbook; we sang each word ... as if we meant it. (What a concept.)

One of my favorites was about a wise man and a foolish man, who each built a house. The wise man built his house on the rock ... whereas the foolish one built on sand. You may remember what happened next ...

The rains came down and the floods came up.
The rains came down and the floods came up.
The rains came down and the floods came up.
But the house on the rock stood FIRM! (the sandy one went SMASH!)
Poor foolish man. He started with a dreamy seaside retreat, and wound up with an expensive pile of tooth picks.

The song concluded, "Soooo... build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ... and the blessings will come down (as the prayers go up)."

It wasn't until many years later that I realized that the song always ended prematurely. We never sang about the house "built on the Lord Jesus Christ" being subjected to those pesky rains and floods. It was as if we couldn't bring ourselves to admit that, sooner or later, the rains and floods always come. Even for those who build their life "on the Lord Jesus Christ."

There was a time when I thought that being a Christian meant that I would always get the happy ending to every story, so long as I followed Christ. I'm not sure where that idea came from, since I had witnessed terrible suffering. One case in particular made a lasting impression.

My mother's dear friend, Aunt Rosemary, contracted ALS in her mid-thirties. This vivacious, gentle lady went from chasing butterflies with us to smiling from her wheelchair ... to lying in bed, painfully spelling out each word with blinks of her eye.

Once night my mother met my father at the door in tears. That morning in Bible study (which was held at Rosemary's house), one woman felt "led" to pray for healing for Rosemary. The group gathered around the woman in the wheelchair, and waited expectantly for her to leap up. When nothing happened, they all sat around and discussed what might be keeping God from answering their prayer.

Finally, someone got a "word from the Lord": The reason Rosemary wasn't healed was because she had unconfessed sin in her life. At this point in the story, mom started crying again as she told my father what had happened. "It was like a flock of chickens, picking at the weak one! All of them gathered around her, and started questioning her. What was she hiding? Was she angry with God? Was she harboring doubts about Him? I didn't know what to do. They made Rosemary cry ... but they never did find out what the sin was."

It wasn't long before women started dropping out of the study. It was too hard to reconcile their belief in a loving, benevolent, healing God ... with what was happening to their friend.

Years later, I took a graduate course on the sacraments, and asked the priest whether he had ever healed someone through the sacrament of anointing. "Physical healing? No ... I don't think so," Father admitted. This flabbergasted me, since I had witnessed (and one time actually experienced) faith healing, through the laying-on of hands in charismatic churches. Why didn't the anointing of the sick work the same way, if Christ intended it to be a sacrament of healing?

The priest didn't say anything at first. He closed his eyes and let his chin sag to his chest, and stood there for quite some time -- praying for inspiration, I think. Finally, he said,

"Physical healing is not the most important way God heals people. It is at best a temporary 'fix.' Those who were healed by Christ Himself ... even Lazarus, raised from the dead ... they died sooner or later. As Catholics we believe that suffering is not without purpose. No, the greatest healing is not physical, but spiritual.

"Those who receive the anointing of the sick are reconciled with God, and strengthened spiritually for whatever might lie ahead. For some, it is more suffering. For others, it is the cessation of all suffering -- through death. Jesus used physical healing as a sign, to draw the people to Him so they would hear what He wanted to teach them. The healing did not last -- but that life was changed forever by the transforming power of faith."

In today's Gospel, we read of an encounter between Jesus and the crowd, who claimed that the source of Jesus' power was devilish, evil. Jesus replied,

“Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste
and house will fall against house.
And if Satan is divided against himself,
how will his kingdom stand?....
But if it is by the finger of God that I drive out demons,
then the Kingdom of God has come upon you." Luke 11:15-26

It was never Jesus' ability to work miracles that was in question, but the source of His power. For us, the question is not "Does God heal people today?" Of course He does, often through people -- whether through doctors using conventional medicine, priests administering the sacraments, or even "faith healers."

No, the question is not, "Does God want to heal me?" but "How am I most in need of healing?"

Or perhaps more to the point, "What will do my soul the most good?" Our bodies will not last forever. It is the state of our souls that must concern us most. And so, we need to avail ourselves of every means God has provided in the sacraments of healing -- Eucharist, reconciliation, and anointing -- to keep that which will never die in good working order.

"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. But only say the word, and I shall be healed."

"Amazing Grace" ... Is It Really?

2007-10-05T11:00:00.001-07:00

Sarah was a little over two years old when we took her to the baptism of her cousin, whose family is Lutheran. We arrived late, and managed to find two seats in the back by crawling over the laps of two pinch-lipped elderly matrons, who clearly disapproved of our being there at all.

The sermon that day went a little long, and Sarah quickly grew bored. We passed her back and forth for a few minutes, feeding her Cheerios and turning pages of board-books. One of them contained a large picture of Jesus, and when we reached that page, Sarah found her voice.

“Ama-sing gwace, ah ee ah ah…” she began. I hushed her. She grew louder. “Ah wah ha ha, la dah, dah, dah…” As I hastily gathered our things to make a speedy retreat, Sarah got in her big finish. “Wah spine, hah how I-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

I thought the old ladies’ eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. I was just glad to get my daily dose of humiliation out of the way so early in the day. (Hah.)

Amazing Grace … for Catholics

While some Catholics denounce the propriety of singing songs like “Amazing Grace” in a Catholic Mass, discounting them as “unsingable” or “Protestant,” there is another way of looking at this. In a nutshell, many of these songs -- Amazing Grace among them -- take on fresh meaning once the full light of faith shines upon them.

While this isn’t true for converts from all denominations, I grew up in a church in which hymn singing was a highly “formative” occupation, theologically speaking (that and “Bible drills” in Sunday school). As a result, these songs are an important part of my spiritual heritage. Indeed, these hymns frequently express truths about life and faith in God that can enrich Catholic communities as much as Protestant ones.

The question we need to ask ourselves is not whether a particular song is “Protestant,” but whether the ideas it expresses are true. We know that, by virtue of their baptism, all Christians are part of the Body of Christ (though some are united imperfectly). Even those who have not embraced the fullness of the faith are capable of capturing a glimpse of the spiritual life that Catholic Christians do well to consider for themselves. Because of their love for the Word of God, and their familiarity with it, Protestant hymns are saturated with themes and metaphors from the Bible. This is the source of power to transform the human soul.

Not "Is It Protestant," but "Is It TRUE?"

The greatest error of the Protestant Reformation -- the error that is at the root of all theological error -- was spiritual and intellectual pride. This pride prevented them from submitting to the authority of Rome and the teaching of the Fathers. For many converts, conversion takes place only after this kind of pride is systematically dismantled, returning us to a childlike state of acceptance and humility as we journey toward the Vigil.

Speaking only for myself, it was when I was in this childlike state that the hymns of the faith of my childhood took on new meaning.

“T'is grace that taught my heart to fear,
and grace that fear relieved.”

As I progressed through RCIA, I came to understand that grace is not dependent on feelings, or even on our awareness of it being present. That is, the graces of baptism of the infant operate in that young soul (and continues to operate into adulthood) regardless of whether there appears to be any change.

As we grow older and deeper in faith, however, there are times when we are more cognizant of how that grace operates within us. It is this grace that enables us to mature in faith. It is grace that illuminates the intellect, and teaches us about God's power and his mercy (fearful heart vs. relieved heart). And in that transforming process, we realize what a gift God’s grace is.

“How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”

Believe it or not, this is a line that I sang with even greater fervor after I became Catholic. It was God's grace -- nothing more, nothing less -- that enlightened my mind and heart to receive the fullness of the truth, and to believe that the Catholic Church was truly the Church founded by Christ. It took more than simple intellectual reflection. It required a paradigm shift of the will and the heart. It took a true leap of faith.

My friends, intellectual and spiritual pride that blinded me for so long ... even though I had followed God all my life, it took a supernatural work of grace to unstop my spiritual ears and remove the blinders.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost but now am found, t'was blind but now I see.”

Unfortunately, this spiritual and intellectual pride afflicts Christians on both sides of the church divide. It is this kind of affliction that keeps some Catholics from experiencing all the joy and life God wants to give them. Joy (as opposed to "emotionalism") rooted in truth, and watered with humility and faith.

Thank God that in His wisdom, He provided the means to remove this pride at the root, in the sacrament of reconciliation.

So next time you hear the song, go ahead and sing about that Amazing Grace!

P.S. In one of my discussion groups, someone pointed out that the word "wretch" like me is a reference to the Calvinist belief in total depravity. Here was my reply:

"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed." Believing this -- that we cannot save ourselves, and that we need the saving graces of the work of Christ (which we believe are imparted through the teachings and sacraments of the Church) -- does not make us Calvinists. It makes us Christian.

It is true that John Newton was a Calvinist, and it may be that Calvinists put a particular mental spin on it as they sing (with regard to total depravity). We don't share that theological perspective ... but for all the reasons I've already written, the song itself is a powerful testimony to God's goodness. It's sad that Newton didn't come to understand the full truth of God's amazing grace in his lifetime. But the song itself is not problematic.

In the words of the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:12: "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." Newton saw "darkly" and "partly" because he was detached from the fullness of the truth, entrusted to the Catholic Church.

For all the reasons I've already mentioned, I sing the song with greater fervor -- not less -- because I have experienced that grace in ways Newton never did. And when we all get to heaven ... oh, what a chorus THAT will be!

Lunch with Elisabeth Elliot: Reprised

2007-10-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

I stumbled on this exchange on "The Kid Sister of Blessed Imelda" by chance tonight, and thought I should follow up a little more visible (e.g. on my own blog) regarding the article I wrote about my lunch with Elisabeth Elliot, many years ago now. Here's the link to the article (which also appeared on Catholic Exchange.)

Most people who make the journey to the Church in relative anonymity (myself included) experience a certain amount of pressure from family and friends who neither understand nor approve of the change. It is difficult enough handling this as a private citizen … how much more as such a public figure?

For many people (especially Protestants who cannot imagine such a thing), the temptation will be strong to simply discount what I wrote out of a sense of loyalty and respect for Elisabeth. Indeed, more than once now I have wondered if I showed her the respect I should have by revealing this exchange the way that I did — not because it was untrue, but because I now realize that her interest in “things Catholic” was apparently not as commonly known as I had thought it was. (For those who are interested in reading a different take on her beliefs, here's another article -- this one in a Baptist publication -- I recently encountered. Not nearly as flattering to her, but there it is.)

While I cannot deny that the exchange took place as I said it did, it would grieve me deeply if anyone perceived it as a smudge on this dear woman’s character. She is among the bravest and most devoted of Christian women. If I had it to do over again, I would have concealed her identity better — out of respect for her privacy. Of course, one cannot unring a bell.

I urge readers to consider that the spiritual journey God has prepared for each of us is oftentimes a hidden and intensely private one. Elisabeth is now in the twilight of her life, and has been walking with the Lord faithfully since her earliest years.

In the end, it is not about whether one side or the other can claim her for themselves. It is all about whether, before God, she was faithful to the light she was given. Not by our standards — but by His.

The Catholic Church has always taught that there are those outside the visible parameters of the Church who are united by virtue of baptism into the same Body of Christ. Whether or not Elisabeth ever enters into full communion with the Roman Catholic Church, she is a true daughter of God. She is not a coward … nor is she the kind of woman to speak idle words she did not mean. (Several have asked me if she was “just being kind.” Anyone who knew Elisabeth even casually would know better.)

Someday in heaven, when denominational affiliations and petty arguments have long since ceased to matter, when we are all perfected and perfectly united as God intended from the beginning, I hope we can all sit down with Elisabeth and have a cup of tea with her, and ask her to recount the final chapter of her faith journey. I think we will all be amazed … and humbled … by what she has to say.

Myself included.

Catholic Carnival #139 Is Up!

2007-10-03T08:39:00.000-07:00

Please stop by and visit "Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering." Sarah has just finished her usual excellent job of compiling the best and freshest of Catholic blogging into one highly readable and enjoyable e-zine.

"He's the truth..." Why Evangelical Theology Fails

2007-09-24T14:34:00.000-07:00

The other night MSNBC ran a story about Pentecostal bishop Carlton Pearson, whose "gospel of inclusion" got him in hot water with the Evangelical community of Tulsa, OK -- and barred from his alma mater, Oral Roberts University (where he attended, but did not graduate).

According to Pearson, the gates of heaven are open to everyone, including Satan himself. Hell is not a destination in the afterlife but a metaphor for the painful situations of our own making in this life. According to Pearson, Satan himself could be reconciled with God if he simply said he was sorry for having "competed" with God.

On the program, the response to Pearson's "revelation" was sobering: Shortly after his "revelation" was made public, he lost his church, his congregation, and his status in the Christian community. “People don’t follow preachers as much as they follow popularity," the downfallen preacher observed. "I always knew that. And as soon as I quit preaching what was popular, the people were gone. But I didn’t expect them to leave so fast.”

Ironically, it was the Episcopaleans -- a group that is about as far removed as possible from the Pentecostals in Christian ideology and culture -- who gave him a second chance. Tulsa's most prominent Episcopal church, Trinity, gave Pearson and what is left of his congregation the use of their facilities. (I guess with all the other doctrinal and disciplinary shenanigans that have been going on of late, the idea of hell being a metaphor is irresistable.)

Now, the good "bishop" did have a few faithful follow him to his new digs. One quote in particular -- by Julia Nowlin, a member of his congregation since 1991 -- gave me pause:

"He's [Pearson's] the truth and I'm sticking to the truth because the truth will set you free."

"Protestant Theology": A Study in Self-Promotion

This story is a sad one ... it's never a happy day when thousands of people are spiritually disillusioned, or faith communities demolished. Some souls never recover from such a shock, and become hardened to all truth.

Fortunately, this kind of thing has the opposite effect on some people. Kristine Franklin and her family had one such "happy ending" ... It led them into the arms of Mother Church -- after being Protestant (anti-Catholic) missionaries to Guatemala for many years. You can read the story here.

The point that both these stories illustrate (one negatively, the other positively) is that it is impossible to remain theologically on track without being willing to subject yourself to a higher disinterested, historic, and objective authority.

Appealing to the Bible alone -- or any other document that requires interpretation, for that matter -- is insufficient simply because interpretation is inherently subjective.

Appealing to the spiritual authority of a single person (either oneself or one's pastor) is insufficient; the perspective of any single individual lacks historicity -- that is, rooted in a particular time and situation -- and colored by that individual's subjective experiences and motives (hence, not disinterested).

Because the Catholic faith is founded on the original revelation of Christ to His apostles, which He instructed them to pass on to others, it has historic presidence with objective origins.

Because the teaching and interpreting authority of Christian doctrine has been entrusted to those with a familiarity and respect for the theological "stream" that runs from that original source to the present time (an objective source of knowledge), and who have responsibility both to lead (a diocese in the case of a bishop, a parish in the case of a pastor) and follow (the continuous teaching of those in union with the pope in the first case, and the authority of the Magisterium in the second), those teachings are safeguarded from inappropriate personal agendas or "slants" that make these teachings truly disinterested. (The truth is transforming, rather than transformed; it changes the person who hears it, rather than being stretched and pulled to suit individual desires and preconceptions.)

What Is Truth?

When truth is interpreted by contemporary, subjective, and "interested" individuals, heresy results. We see this happen over and over in Church history. The first seven centuries of Church history is replete examples of men (usually) who went off on some theological tangent ... and councils that met to respond to those missteps, to set the course of the Church aright.

For example, in response to the erroneous ideas of men such as Arius to Nestorius to Marcion, the Church Fathers developed the great Christological and Trinitarian dogmas -- including, in 432, the Council of Ephesus that declared Mary the Theotokos, the "Mother of God."

As a Protestant, I often fell into the temptation of expecting that all truth would automatically line up with what I already believed to be true, based on my own subjective interpretation of Scripture. What I failed to consider was that my own interpretation might not be the right one. That is, just because an idea doesn't "fit" within my own parameters of truth doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't true ... It could mean that I need to adjust my own understanding.

This revelation was difficult to swallow at first. It required that I make a "paradigm shift" of the will -- choosing to suspend judgment, and consider that it could be my own course that might be in need of redirection. It is this paradigm shift of the will -- a laying down of my own authority, and a submission to a higher one -- that is at the heart of most true conversion. It is painful. It is difficult.

It is also necessary. Knowledge alone cannot touch the heart and transform it unless the will is also moved. We cannot afford to suspend all judgment -- after all, many of the heretics of the early Church truly believed that they had received a special insight from God, and chose to die rather than renounce that message. However, we cannot make ourselves the final authority. To the extent that we are willing to humble ourselves and submit to the higher authority of the Church -- a disinterested authority that is objectively and historically based -- we can trust that the Holy Spirit will lead us on the path of truth.

Check out this post on Catholic Carnival #136 ...

2007-09-13T08:05:00.000-07:00

On this week's Carnival (#136) I came across this entry by RNW (Red-Necked Woman) that warmed my heart ... Here's the link!

Next week I will be hosting the Carnival at Mommy Monsters.; the theme is "Parenting 101: Things I've Learned from My Kids." Please send me your posts: hsaxton(at)ChristianWord(dot)com. For information about the Carnival, click here.

If God Loves Me, Why Do I Hurt So Much?

2007-09-11T16:19:00.000-07:00

Catholic Carnival is now up! As usual, Sarah at "Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering" was a real sport as she captured the ups and "downs" of Catholic thought in the (virtual) universe this week. To read Carnival #136, click here.

Here was my contribution:

The snow fell – first gently, then with greater urgency – as I turned my car towards home. Having all but flunked out of my first semester of college (my newfound social life had taken its inevitable toll), I took my parents advice and got a job until I figured out what I was going to do with my life. Clearly, engineering school was not “it.”

The gently rolling hills of northern New Jersey have a few steep stretches, including one mile-long incline I had to navigate downhill on the last leg of my journey. As I neared that section of road, I almost stopped at my boyfriend’s house. But we’d recently had a falling out, so I took a deep breath and kept driving.

The last thing I remember was the flash of a yellow light, warning of the blind signal ahead. It said nothing about the solid sheet of black ice – or the poorly banked road that would send my skidding vehicle into oncoming traffic.

Choices of a Lifetime

It’s one of the great ironies of the human condition, that the amount of time spent pondering a decision is seldom proportionate to its long-term significance. The special dress you spent weeks finding, altering, and accessorizing is but a page in some dusty scrapbook. One impulsive passionate interlude, on the other hand, can have life-long repercussions.

My car accident might have been prevented had I made any number of small decisions a bit differently: not going in to work that day, or deciding to stop at my friend’s house. I would have been spared a great deal of suffering (at least the physical variety). But I didn’t – and to this day I carry the scars of those choices on my body: tracks along my legs and abdomen, spinal arthritis, disk rupture, and pinched sciatica. And yet, God sometimes allows His children to suffer terribly … in order to draw them as close as possible to Himself.

I was hospitalized for more than a month. During that time, my romantic entanglement was abruptly severed (he found out my injuries were serious enough that I might not be able to have children). Fortunately, I had the steady support of another friend, who assured me that any man who deserved me would find the scars beautiful, “Because those scars are a part of your story, part of what makes you … you.”

I took great comfort in those words, and in the realization that – for all that I had suffered – it had been a small price to pay. God had my undivided attention for the first time in my life. Clearly, He had spared my life for a reason, and I wanted to know what that reason was. I didn’t know what His plan for my life would be, but it had to be an improvement on what I had done with it so far.

Wounded … or Scarred?

A year after the accident, the pin that had been set in my left femur worked its way loose, and began to dig into my hip joint. Since the pin no longer served a useful purpose, I was scheduled for surgery to have it removed. Unfortunately, I had to wait a week for an opening. A week of lying in bed and trying not to move.

Two days before the surgery, I was visited by one of the church elders and his wife, who came to pray for me. They believed that God wanted to heal me not through the hands of a surgeon, but through prayer. Not seeing a graceful way out of it, I grudgingly let them put their hands on my leg and pray – and was amazed when, a few seconds later, I was able to get up and jump around the room. (The pin was removed anyway.)

I should have been thrilled, but I wasn’t. That night I gave God a good talking to. Why had He seen fit to heal my leg in this unconventional fashion, when I was going to have the problem fixed in a few days anyway? Why would He bother with such a trifle when He had not healed my sister’s cancer or my Aunt Rosemary’s ALS? Why would He use “faith healing” to fix my leg, when all over the world people were dying from injury and disease far worse than mine, without any medical assistance?

There was no immediate celestial response, no zap of lightning for my ingratitude. Through the years, I’ve come to recognize that this is the way God often operates. The mystery is part of His charm. He can handle our questions, though the answers are sometimes years in the telling. He has the answers, of course – and He knows when we will best be able to receive them.

It wasn’t until years later, when I first heard of the Incarnation Principle (that God initiates contact with the human race through the sensible world) that I began to understand what had happened to me. God had not shifted that pin merely to spare me a few more days of physical pain. Rather, He wanted to remind me that I could trust Him to tend to me – on His terms, and not on mine – as a loving father cares for his children.

Have You No Scars?

Whether our wounds are physical, emotional, or spiritual, the principle remains the same: God uses the painful consequences of our actions to draw us into deeper relationship with Himself. As we endure the pain and the scars begin to form, those marks can become a source of bitterness … or thankfulness.

If in our pain we choose to pull away from God (either because we think He’s abandoned us, or because we are trying to punish ourselves), our scars become a constant reminder of our own failings and weaknesses. However, if we let ourselves draw close to God – in prayer and through the sacraments – He tends to our wounds and teaches us important lessons that we could not learn any other way.

When this happens, He does not remove the scars entirely; the pain may stay with us for a lifetime. However, these marks no longer accuse us, no longer have any power to determine our future course. They have been transformed into reminders of God’s providence and mercy. And with these scars, we are turned a little more perfectly into the image of the One who was wounded for our sins, and the sins of the whole world.

Do you ever feel invisible?

2007-08-27T19:39:00.000-07:00

If so ... come on over to "Mommy Monsters." I posted something there just for you today!

Deadly Words

2007-08-23T11:04:00.000-07:00

Today in Catholic Exchange is an article about Auschwitz. I visited the death camp in the summer of 1992 along with a group of Polish and American college students (we were touring southern Poland doing Christian concerts). When we got to the camp, the Polish students refused to go inside -- they waited in the bus while the rest of us went in. When we asked them about it, there was suddenly an insurmountable language barrier between us.

While the Germans ran the camp, the people immediately outside the gates were Polish, not German. Some did resist, and were themselves exterminated. Others grew wealthy by cooperating. Still others fled. It's a comforting thought, I suppose, to tell ourselves that if we were in that situation, we would not have turned a blind eye, that we would have paid with our lives, if necessary, to resist such a monstrous evil.

Ironically, it is the cold, metallic words inscribed in the entrance gate that gives us the best possible advice for how we can eliminate the necessity of abortion in a single generation. Arbeit macht frei: work makes freedom.

What are we doing today -- individually and as a society -- besides talking? I recently read of one Catholic man who promised an unwed mother that he would pay for her expenses for her pregnancy and delivery, and continue the payments for the first two years of the child's life, so she would have time to get back on her feet and be able to support herself and her child. How many of us would make that kind of sacrifice? Or how many would say, as Blessed Teresa often did, "Give the child to me. I will take care of him for you."

It is this kind of witness, this kind of sacrifice, that will make the abortion mills obsolete. We must give more than words. We must give ourselves.

What Should We Call Him?

2007-08-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

Today at Catholic Exchange there was a heated exchange about a Dutch bishop who suggested that (within the context of Muslim/Christian dialogue) Christians refer to God as "Allah." This got me thinking about the complexities of cross-cultural communication (my college major was International Studies and Communications). One of the most basic principles of cross-cultural communications is "define your terms." Therefore, the basic consideration is: Whatever we call Him, are we both referring to the same God?

In Nostra Aetate (par 3), the Church acknowledges that "The Church has also a high regard for Muslims. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth..." A bit later, the text says, "The sacred Council now ... urges that a sincere effort be made to achieve mutual understanding; for the benefit of all men, let them persevere and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral values."

Unless I'm missing something, this sounds to me as though the Church acknowledges that Muslims, Jews, and Catholics all worship the one true God (though of course our understanding of the Trinitarian nature of God is unique to Christianity). But if all three religions worship the one true God, how is calling God "Allah" within the context of Muslim/Christian dialogue, different from translating Catholic concepts into Protestant "language" in the process of evangelization?

It's important to keep in mind that the particular configuration of letters that represents the Holy One varies from culture to culture even among Christian peoples. Language is culturally distinct — "Gott," "Dieu," "Dios," "G_D," "YHWH." Defining terms, on the other hand, is a crucial part of cross-cultural communication. And in this case, for reasons mentioned in the article, we must make the most of our commonalities where we can find them.

"And His name shall be called 'Wonderful, Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace...'" He calls Himself: "I AM."

Prayer for Minneapolis

2007-08-01T20:15:00.000-07:00

Let's remember tonight all those whose lives were touched by the tragic collapse of the bridge over I-35 in Minneapolis this afternoon. At present, there are six known fatalities.

Our Lady of Sorrows, Oh, dear Queen of Peace,
Your children are calling out into the night
For comfort, for healing, for wisdom, in grief
Pray for us, stay with us, till God's untimely grace
Rains down in torrents from heaven.
Our brothers and sisters are suffering,
Let our hearts break with theirs ... and with yours.
In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Catholic Carnival #130

2007-07-31T19:45:00.000-07:00

Ready for the fair, everyone? Don't forget to check out the latest Catholic Carnival, hosted by Sarah at Snoring Scholar.

Thanks, Sarah, for putting such creativity into this week's carnival! It was great fun to read.

Women in Art

2007-07-31T03:36:00.000-07:00

Mary Kochan at CatholicExchange.com sent me this link to a video entitled "Women in Art." What impressed me most ... besides the breathtaking variety of shapes and forms God created us ... is the fact that, even as they change, their gaze remains steadily on the viewer.

It reminds me of an old hymn I used to sing as a kid:

I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

No matter what our circumstances, the loving gaze of our Divine Keeper never wavers.

New on Catholic Exchange!

2007-07-26T12:19:00.001-07:00

I'm happy to announce that my name has been added as a columnist on the Catholic Exchange website. My review of The Girls Who Went Away will appear August 9. Feel free to jump in to the "exchange"! Blessings-- Heidi

The Power of a Name: Review of "Girls Who Went Away" (Penguin)

2007-07-24T19:35:00.000-07:00

It took us three years to adopt our two foster children; our first official act as their parents was to have them baptized, so they could be a part of God’s family, too. As we got ready for the big day, we explained that they would each have new names on their baptism certificates (and, a bit later, on their newly issued birth certificates).

“Why do I get a new name?” Christopher wanted to know.

“You’re getting two new names, actually,” I told him. “We kept your first name to honor your birth family; your middle name will be ‘Robert,’ like your dad’s; and your last name will be ‘Saxton’ because you’re a part of our family now.”

“Oh.”

Clearly this answer didn't satisfy him. I tried a different approach. “Christopher, do you know that my name changed when I became a part of your dad’s family?”

“It did?” his expression brightened. I nodded.

“And did you know that in the Bible, there are lots of examples where God changed someone’s name when he or she became part of God’s family, or agreed to do a special job for God? Abram became ‘Abraham.’ His wife Sarai became ‘Sarah.’ Jesus’ special friend Simon became ‘Peter,’ our first pope. The apostle Paul’s first name was ‘Saul.’ Each of these people had a special job to do … and each one got a new name to show that something was different about them now.”

It wasn’t until a month later, at their older sister’s baptism, that I realized what an impression this made. As the priest poured water over the little girl’s forehead, my kids leaped up and shouted, “Hurray! Our sister has a new name today!”

The priest turned, startled, then smiled. “Yes, she does. Her name is ‘Christian.’ Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of us were so excited about it!”

Forever Families

Names are important: “Mom,” “Dad,” “Grandpa,” “Nana.” These words are powerful by association, particularly in the hearts of children. And so when it came time for us to “name ourselves” for our children, we put considerable thought to this as well. Christopher and Sarah already had already lost one set of parents; they also had two siblings that were being adopted by other families, and yet our kids were still very much attached to them. How were we going to communicate the permanent and exclusive nature of our family unit?

And so, we became Christopher and Sarah’s “forever family.” It wasn’t until much later that I discovered how much fire this appellation draws in adoption circles, since the biological bond is equally permanent even when a child is raised by someone else.

This was powerfully illustrated in Ann Fessler’s tribute to birthmothers, The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades Before Roe v. Wade (Penguin Press, 2006). The stories in this book reminded me that, no matter what circumstances are that led to a child being placed for adoption, and no matter how young the children were when the adoption occurred, there is a primal connection that can never be completely severed. “Mother” has been forever etched upon their hearts.

“Victim” Souls?

In TGWWA, Fessler vividly portrays what the adoption process was like forty years ago. She captures the horrific plight of the girls shipped off to “maternity homes.” We meet pushy social workers, unfeeling parents, and absentee boyfriends. The author attributes the numbers of out-of-wedlock births to a “lack of information” on one hand, and a “lack of options” on the other. (Rather than, say, a disregard for the consequences of extra-marital sex).

Adoptive parents (and adult adoptees) who read this book will find it easy to empathize with these struggling, suffering women. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel as though the book told only half the story. There was not a single story of a woman who recognized that, painful as it was, adoption was absolutely the best choice for her child. Nor do many acknowledge the debt of gratitude owed to the people who parented her child day and night; several seem to gloss over the sacrifices made for their child in their eagerness to reclaim the title of “mother.”

Most importantly, these stories illustrate more clearly than any chastity lecture ever could why the unitive and procreative aspects of sexuality cannot be separated without harming the individuals involved, and causing a great deal of anguish for all concerned. This was illustrated most poignantly by “Madeline,” who said (p.243):

I always felt like there was a huge scale and that I could never balance it. I held myself responsible [for losing my daughter]. I wanted to keep this baby. I felt powerless to keep this baby. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to go back to being a normal person. I wanted the baby out of my life. I wanted the baby. I didn’t want the baby. I think it’s that ambivalence that is so hard for people to look at and admit. People will say, “Oh, I wanted my baby with all my heart, and they took my baby from me.” And they turn themselves into a victim. Anything you get yourself into a situation like this, you have to see where you are partially responsible for it. It’s a two-way thing. I’ve been in a lot of situations like that. I’ve been in situations where it seems as though I’m the victim but in reality I’m part of the equation.

This book amply demonstrates that, even in purely secular terms, the "right" to engage in sex cannot be divorced from the responsibilities associated with it -- both to one's partner and to any life that comes from that union. However, because an authentic Catholic worldview – which reserves sexual expression to married couples on moral grounds as well as sociological ones – is missing from the book, adoption is portrayed as an unduly harsh punishment inflicted on a girl (most often by her own family), rather than a truly loving and unselfish choice made by two people who take responsibility for their actions, and who do what is necessary to give their child the stable, loving home every child deserves.

The Family Factor

In Donum Vitae (“The Gift of Life,” 1987), the Church affirms the right of every child “to be conceived, carried in the womb, brought into the world and brought up by his own parents” (par 3.) While these rights are explained in the context of the Church’s opposition to surrogate motherhood, these fundamental human rights apply equally to any child conceived (willingly or unwittingly) outside the bonds of marriage.

When this occurs, it is the child – not the woman, as Fessler contends – who bears the “full emotional weight of circumstances” caused by the parents’ actions, since the child is deprived of these rights long before he is born. Sadly, the author is too busy assigning blame on society in general and the girls’ parents in particular to consider the ramifications of the abortion “solution” hinted at in the subtitle of the book through the story of “Nancy I” (p.53).

[E]verytime I hear stories … about the recurring trauma of abortion, I want to say, “You don’t have a clue.” I’ve experienced both and I’d have an abortion any day of the week before I would ever have another adoption – or lose a kid in the woods, which is basically what it is. You know your child is out there somewhere, you just don’t know where.

This statement, perhaps more than any other in the book, reveals the fundamental flaw in the feminist position on sexual expression as a “right,” contraception as a “convenience,” and pregnancy as a “condition” to be cured rather than a gift to be cherished.

Is Single Parenthood the Answer?

This question is one that I’ve considered at close range. One thing is certain: It would be a mistake to suggest that one "solution" can be applied across the board. Each "triad" of birth family, child, and adoptive family is unique.

Having said that, some aspects of single parenthood are seen again and again. I’m related by birth or marriage to three women who have had children out of wedlock. In each case, these women decided to raise their babies on their own (with considerable assistance from grandparents).

Two years later, one of these women became pregnant a second time; this time she attempted to place the child for adoption. The biological father, whose violent criminal record did not stop a judge from granting him sole custody over the Christian couple who had been chosen as the adoptive parents, thwarted her plan.

Unfortunately, the story does not end there. Of these three women, two quickly married men who were not their child’s biological father. Both men mistreated the children; one abused both his wife and her child. (He sued for custody to get back at the mother for leaving him, even though he was not related biologically to the child, and he very nearly succeeded in obtaining custody of her daughter because she had no medical records or police reports to confirm the abuse she and her daughter had endured.)

It is an unfortunate reality that many young women who become pregnant out of wedlock are not ready to be mothers, and are ill prepared to face the challenges of motherhood. This plays out in a variety of ways, with grandparents often caught in a no-win situation. Having offered to help their daughter raise her child, they find themselves in the uncomfortable place of feeling responsible for the child without having the power to make decisions on the child’s behalf. “I’m the mother,” their daughter reminds them … refusing to relinquish any of her “rights,” no matter how much suffering her bad choices cause both her parents and her child.

And so, the parents keep supporting, keep paying, and keep quiet … afraid that if they alienate their daughter, they may lose their grandchild as well. “At least the baby is here, where we know he’s safe,” they tell each other.

It is this pressure that kept the parents of the third unwed mother in my extended family from “pressuring” their daughter into marrying the baby’s father. Despite the fact that they live together and share expenses, she just isn’t sure he’s “Mr. Right.” And so once again, the rights of the baby – to be raised in the loving embrace of both parents, within a permanent family unit – are sacrificed. For now he has his mother’s name … and we pray that, once he is old enough to understand the reason why his father left, that name will be enough.

Parenthood is inherently a life of self-sacrifice. There is no getting around it. Whether that sacrifice entails the death of a dream, or just a full night's sleep, the self-donation required in order to raise a child and turn him or her into a responsible citizen of the world is nothing short of breathtaking. I'm not sure I would have had the courage to become a parent had I known ahead of time how difficult it was going to be.

In the end, however, it's not about the sacrifice of the parent, but the needs of the child. No matter what the circumstances are that a child is brought into the world, the moment his life begins the paramount question is not, "What do I want?" but, "What does this child need?" Not "What is convenient?" but "What is in my child's best interest?"

What this book shows most clearly is that what is in the child's best interest has very little to do with what makes the parent feel good. That too is the nature of parenthood. Convenience and personal happiness is often the standard by which our culture makes decisions ... but faith urges us to embrace a higher calling.

Donna O'Boyle's prayer request

2007-07-23T08:12:00.000-07:00

Please remember in your prayers today two teenage boys, whom Donna features on her blog today. Thank you!

ABC's of Abuse-Proofing Your Child...

2007-07-13T19:00:00.001-07:00

... has been posted on CatholicExchange.com. If you know of someone who needs to read it, please pass it on. (To reprint, be sure to include the following credit line: "Copyright 2007 Heidi Hess Saxton. Reprinted by permission. Contact author at hsaxton@christianword.com".

(The young woman on the right is my niece, Kendra.)

"You Are God ... and Who Am I?" Reflections on Faith and Identity

2007-07-11T19:25:00.000-07:00

I confess my first draft of this article started out very differently. Prior to the release of the Holy Father’s motu proprio, a question weighed heavily on my mind: Would the Latin Mass bring an unseasonable chill to the “Springtime of Evangelization” proclaimed by John Paul II?

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. Since the Latin form of the rite remains the “extraordinary” form, there are still plenty of opportunities for seekers to experience the holy sacrifice of the Mass in their own language. (And if it happens that a visitor stumbles on a Latin Mass, he or she can still hear the readings in the vernacular.)

Once that issue was settled, I began to ponder the letter that accompanied “Summorum Pontificum.” One word jumped out at me: identity. In its original context, the word was used to describe Bishop Lefebvre’s camp … and yet, the Mass as a “mark of identity” has implications for the rest of us as well.

Identity Crisis

Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the LORD your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder … these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial for ever.” Joshua 4:5-7

In a seminary class on the sacraments, Father Dan Jones introduced me to the writings of Father William Lynn, S.J., S.T.D., who spoke of the “Incarnational Principal.” This principal says that God initiates contact with the human race through the material world.

Moreover, how we interpret what we see, hear, taste, touch, and smell profoundly affects how we see ourselves (our personal identity) and how we approach God (our religious identity). Religious identity is formed to a great degree by two things:

1. Previous experiences (especially previous religious formation). For example, someone who was raised on the Latin Mass may continue to have a great devotion to it. (However, not all those who have a devotion to the Latin Mass were raised on it.) Charismatic Catholics have entirely different associations, based on their experiences with the charismatic gifts of the Spirit.

Those who convert from the evangelical tradition, as I did, may appreciate aspects of the liturgical renewal that strike traditional Catholics as “touchy-feely,” Protestant, or irreverent.

For example, the music I encountered at those early liturgies was a tremendous source of consolation and hope. As it happened, the parish I first visited sang many of the same hymns I had learned as a child – “Amazing Grace,” “For All the Saints,” and “How Great Thou Art.” And the very songs that so many Catholics are fond of disparaging – “Eagle’s Wings,” “I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light,” and “Be Not Afraid” – reassured me that Catholics also experience intimacy with God. It was an unexpected and delightful surprise.

2. Personal charisms. Have you ever noticed how two people can attend the same liturgy and walk away with very different impressions of the event? Our experiences are always filtered through the lenses of our individual giftings, values, and sensitivities. God made us this way, so that every part of His Body would receive what it needs to serve Him in the world.

One of the things that I have most come to appreciate about the Catholic Church is that, even among the faithful who are fully obedient to the Pope and his Bishops, there is a considerable variety of perspectives, personalities, and gifts represented. There are traditional Catholics and charismatic Catholics, Dominicans and Franciscans and Jesuits, contemplative Catholics and Catholics who see Jesus most clearly when they stand in the serving line of a soup kitchen. Even among religious, there are cloistered orders and orders that focus on education or medical assistance. One that I encountered recently – the Carmelites of Reno – make their living by creating lovely greeting cards from their own original works of art.

The Apostle Paul taught that the Body of Christ contains many members that “though many, are one body, as it is in Christ” (1 Cor 12:12). Just as the human body has multiple layers – an inner core containing vital organs; a skeleton that provides structure, support, and protection; and on outer fleshy covering that facilitates our interaction with the world – so does the Body of Christ. At the center core is the mystical and intercessory charisms, those whose prayers are the very lifeblood of the Church; next the dogmatic and apologetic charisms, which provide structure and direction; finally, the outer core, whose charisms draw to the Church all those still outside, through gifts of empathy, hospitality, and social justice. (Each of these “layers” has distinctive applications to individuals, whether lay or religious.)

Liturgy and Identity

Each individual’s religious identity is built over time, formed from the earliest impressions of childhood to the present day. The Holy Father’s letter reminded me that, for Catholics, the Mass is a crucial part of that identity.

When the liturgical form changed, those changes (particularly the more drastic improvisations) struck at the heart of the religious identity of faithful Catholics around the world. And yet, how they processed these changes may have depended to a certain degree on where they “fit” in the Body of Christ. Those with a mystical/intercessory bent may have relied more heavily on their devotions and personal prayers to help the whole Church through the time of transition. Those with a relational/hospitable charism saw in Vatican II the opportunity to “throw open the doors for Christ,” and make the Church a more welcoming place. Those with more dogmatic or apologetic leanings watched first with concern, then with alarm, as the Mass in some places was “hijacked” (often by well-meaning individuals) and taken to places the Conciliar Fathers never intended.

Even when the new form of the liturgy was implemented correctly, however, some Catholics still craved the reverent and glorious beauty of the Latin Mass. The reason was simple: The Latin Mass was at the heart of their identity as Catholics. In many cases, the individuals in question had not even been raised on the Latin Mass. One friend said to me, “I was drawn more and more to both the new and old Mass in Latin because I found it more prayerful, and more focused on the worship of God. Also, as I studied the Council documents and the writings of various popes, I realized that the Latin was more in line with tradition, as well as with Vatican II. So it is not a matter of nostalgia with me at all. It is something new, and as St Teresa of Avila said about the Mass: ‘This is something that is happening NOW.’”

For this group of traditional Catholics, everything about the Latin Mass – the altar rails and chapel veils, the incense and chant, the ancient murmurings of the universal language of the Church – had a “pride of place” in their hearts. For this group especially, the Holy Father’s rescript was a welcome reminder that this important tradition had not been – was never intended to be – forgotten.

Reflections from the New Kid on the Block

While I cannot pretend to speak for all converts, Vatican II -- and in a special way the papacy of John Paul II -- represents for me an era of unmitigated grace. Because of it, my impressions of the first Catholic Mass I attended bore no resemblance to the soulless institution ex-Catholics (who now belonged to the faith communities in which I grew up) had described to me. Without exception my friends and family had been horrified that I would throw away my spiritual birthright and “take up with those damned papists.”

For me, the decision to enter the Church represented a different kind of identity crisis. It was a lonely journey, full of misgivings and incessant questionings. Ironically, many of the same “irregularities” faithful Catholics most often rail against, shed a ray of light for me at times when I most urgently needed it.

Early in my Catholic formation, for example, I attended the closing liturgy of a religious education conference that made a deep impression on me. I watched with open mouth as sacred dancers in full national costume followed a long line of celebrants of every race and color processing down the center aisle. I’ve since learned that the bishops have declared “sacred dance” to be unsuitable within a liturgical event, at least in the West, and willingly assent to this teaching. At that time, however, it was an unforgettable reminder of the meaning of “catholic,” that the Church I was preparing to enter has a truly universal character.

Another, far more common, example happened every week at Holy Family – the parish in Southern California where I was brought into the Catholic faith. We always held hands and sang the “Our Father.” Now, some Catholic apologists express strong reservations about this custom, and some even denounce it entirely. However, as far as I know the bishops themselves have not definitively settled the issue. As for me, this custom of holding hands touches upon my own sense of religious identity. (Just as for some, refusing to participate is important to them. It is perhaps fortunate that I did not encounter this latter group early on in my formation; what they no doubt see as “correct,” to others can seem cold and dismissive.)

In 2003, Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum Pontifical Athenaeum, wrote about this issue, stating that the posture of the people for this prayer is not specified in the rubrics, and the bishops have not passed a measure that would preclude this custom by the required two-thirds vote.[1] (If there have been more recent or definitive rulings of which I am not aware, I would be grateful if someone would send me the citation.)

Fr. McNamara writes, "The U.S. bishops' conference debated a proposal by some bishops to allow the use of the orantes [arms extended] posture while discussing the 'American Adaptations to the General Instruction to the Roman Missal' last year [2002]. Some bishops even argued that it was the best way of ridding the country of holding hands. The proposal failed to garner the required two-thirds majority of votes, however, and was dropped from the agenda."

Speaking as one whose entering the Church resulted in the estrangement of most of my friends and family, I sincerely hope that one day the “Our Father” custom is officially recognized as an “organic development” and the sign of unity, rather than an awkward distraction. In the meantime, I urge those who are disinclined to participate to find other ways to express kindness to the person sitting next to you. He or she may be someone who desperately needs a reminder that we do indeed stand together as one family in Christ.

The reason I mention both these instances in my formation process is not to generate a lot of heated debate about the liturgy (though doubtless there will be some). I simply want to demonstrate how people, based on their particular religious identities, can have different impressions of the same event – and still be faithful Catholics. Moreover, that these different perspectives are needed in order for the Body of Christ to function properly: the “kitchen police” who keep the troops fed; the soldiers who resist the enemies of the Church; and the medics who rescue those caught in the crossfire, and tend to the wounded.

Together, we are truly the Body of Christ. And it will be because of this “spirit of the liturgy” – the Spirit in whom we are united despite our differences – that those who are not yet a part of us will want to take a closer look. Doubtless there is room for improvement in many parishes, both in how we worship and how we evangelize. And yet, in the words of the great Latin hymn:

Ubi caritas, et amore. Ubi caritas, deus ibi est.
Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur:
Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus.
Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites.
Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.
Where charity and love are, God is there.
As we are gathered into one body,
Beware, lest we be divided in mind.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease,
And may Christ our God be in our midst.[2]

Heidi Hess Saxton is the editor of Canticle magazine.

[1] http://www.catholic.org/featured/headline.php?ID=508
[2] http://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/Hymni/UbiCaritas.html

What's the difference?

2007-07-10T12:39:00.000-07:00

Have you been wondering what the differences are between the two forms of the Roman Catholic liturgy (1962 and 1970 forms, respectively)? Here's an excellent article to explain it:
http://www.catholicnews.com/data/stories/cns/0703698.htm

And for those who are interested, here is an article that sets the record straight on the rumor that the Holy Father uses the Tridentine form of the rite when he says Mass privately. (Thanks, Mary-Eileen, for passing it along!)

Happy July 4th!

2007-07-04T13:32:00.000-07:00

Today on "Mommy Monsters" I blogged about my nephew, Ryan, who left earlier this week to start basic training in the Army.

I'd like to offer a prayer in honor of all our troups, many of whom will be seeing fireworks that are much more like those that inspired our national anthem than ours will be.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world
seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Laughter, the Heart's Best Medicine

2007-06-20T12:03:00.000-07:00

This week I've been teaching music at my parish VBS program. It always feels good to break out the old, tried-and-true Scripture songs I learned as a girl. (Some of them I have to tweak just a bit, theologically speaking.) "How Did Moses Cross the Red Sea?" and "Climb, Climb Up Sunshine Mountain" really get those soulish juices flowing, you know?

In His great Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 18:1-5), Jesus responded to His disciple's bickering over who was greatest by calling a child to Him and saying,

"Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me ..."

Truth be told, most of us are far more at home in the grown-up world; we have a tendency to lose our joy and our sense of wonder in the heat of the battle. We forget how to laugh at ourselves, and have an unfortunate tendency to lash out at anyone who cracks a joke at our expense. Even (and perhaps especially) when there is some perceived incongruity to laugh about.

Judging from His tendency to hang out with publicans and sinners, I'm guessing Jesus used a different approach. He knew how to laugh at Himself, and must have had a good joke or two up His sleeve. After all, this is the same God who created pufferfish and gangly newborn colts. His first earthly miracle was creating wine at a wedding feast (and, unlike my Baptist friends' contention, it was certainly not an alcohol-free variety!).

If Jesus had a mournful countenance and combative presence, and doled out joy by the thimbleful, He certainly wouldn't have been such a welcome addition to those A-list dinner parties.

How do you think Jesus would have responded, for example, if one of His relatives teased Him about settling down and finding a nice Jewish girl? Would He have smiled along ... or smote them all with lightening or incontinence? No doubt He had a serious side -- and yet, just as often He captivated the crowds with His stories and His miracles. He was a Groom in search of His Bride, and knew instinctively what it would take to woo her.

What good is it if in our efforts to "defend" the Church and the faith we hold dear, we alienate the very people Jesus came to save? If we cannot respond to the negative reactions of a secular society in a way that invites them to take a second, closer look ... are we fulfilling the Gospel mandate? If the Church is something we feel we must angrily defend against sinners' advances ... at some point do we lay down our weapons in order to make it the "hospital" Christ intended it to be? Or in our zeal, are we unwittingly adding to the list of spiritual casualties?

"A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger" (Proverbs 15:1). The next time you are drawn into an angry debate, think: What Would Jesus Say?

Remembering Ruth

2007-06-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

Earlier today when I received word of her death, I took down an autographed copy of her Collected Poems, which lies on a special "fire shelf" in my living room (in the event of fire, the contents of this shelf will get snatched up as I exit the house, once my children and husband are safely outside), and touched a blue cut-glass bowl prominently displayed on a kitchen shelf. Both of these are treasures simply because they remind me of a singular experience, an afternoon spent in an unassuming cabin at the top of a winding, gated road in Montreat, North Carolina.

Mrs. Graham was considered by many the "first lady of Evangelical Protestantism." Almost sixty-four years ago she exchanged one holy passion -- to be a missionary in China, as her parents had before her -- for another: to be Billy's wife, and the mother of his children. This turned out to be a monumental undertaking, and in many ways her life might have been much easier if she had stuck with the original plan and wound up an "old maid missionary" serving in some backwater Chinese hospital.

However, "easy" was not something to which Ruth aspired. Neither was "glittering" or "world-famous" or "celebrated." Hers was an unmistakable presence of gracious warmth and sincerity. Sitting on the overstuffed sofas with Mrs. Graham and her daughter Gigi, it was easy to forget that I was sitting where the Grahams had entertained countless notables and celebrities from every walk of life. The carving on the fireplace mantle summed it up perfectly: "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." It was Ruth who had made that fortress home.

Today I imagine them all gathered together in that place, and my heart aches for them. As Ruth herself observed in her Collected Poems (p.179),

A house
is not the same
when she
who made it home
is gone;
it looks
as it has always
looked
and yet
forlorn.
There is an emptiness
within,
a silence
where her chuckle was.
From now on
it is me alone
who once was "us."

I was still a "single career woman" when I met Mrs. Graham -- I married Craig almost exactly a year later, in 1999. Knowing what I know now about the challenges inherent to the vocation of motherhood, I can appreciate even more what a remarkable a woman she was, and how it took the steadfastness of a "missionary heart" to accomplish what she did. Her secret? She stayed as close as possible to the heart of God, drinking deeply of the Scriptures until her soul was fairly steeped in its revealed truth. And yet, somehow she didn't seem overly "religious." She was lively, she was adventurous, she was funny, she was warm ... she knew God intimately, and that is what kept her centered in a world spinning dizzily off-course.

And so, today I want to remember this dear sister in Christ. May her judgment be merciful, and her reward great ... and may the effects of the rivers of prayer that streamed from her while she was still on earth continue to touch those she left behind. How much more do they need those prayers now!

Grant eternal rest to her, O Lord,
may her soul fly to you unencumbered by sorrow, or regret, or fear.
May she see with uncompromised clarity
the fullness of your glory and the wideness of your mercy.
May she and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.

Gabriel is in remission!

2007-06-05T13:15:00.001-07:00

Received this message today from Tom Sullivan about little Gabriel! For regular updates, go to his website here.

Hi All,
In the midst of the trials Gabriel is currently going through, there is some very good news...

Gabriel's bone marrow biopsy from Day 29 came back with 0% Leukemia cells. This is excellent news. It basically means they have achieved remission in under 30 days. We are now awaiting the results of a MRD (Minimal Residual Disease) test which is basically a high powered microscope that can see things deeper in the bone marrow than the normal lab can.The current results also placed Gabriel in a Low Risk category. This means his treatment and amount of drugs will not need to be as severe as the standard or high risk categories.

They continue to dial in tighter on Gabriel's specific type of Leukemia. His long term treatment is becoming more clearly defined with his current schedule of treatment set to last for 3.4 years.Gabriel's cancer treatments have also been suspended until he completes his current battle with Shingles. Currently the Shingles are located in the small of his back and progress along the nerve track leading down his right side and down his right leg. Doctors hope the medications will stop it from spreading to the rest of his body and therefore reducing the pain he feels due to the amount of surface area effected. He is still struggling with fever but his pain level is low and he is handling it very well. Thank you again for all your prayers and support.

--Tom

Gabriel Update

2007-06-01T05:33:00.001-07:00

*** Update on 6/4/07 Gabriel is back in the hospital. Time to start up those prayer lines again! Click here for more information.

Last night I received a wonderful update about our little "leukemia boy," Gabriel Sullivan.

On day 15 we were told Gabriel's lab results came back and the results were so
phenomenal that the lab may have made a mistake. 1% leukemia cells in the bone marrow was almost unbelievable for only 8 days of treatment, the goal is to get him into remission by day 29, and under 5% is considered remission.. So a 2nd bone marrow biopsy was done.
Today Oncology called (10:30am Tuesday May 22, 2007) to tell us, the first test was actually correct. The 2nd bone marrow biopsy came back with 1.5% leukemia cells in the marrow. A deeper test into these results showed NO leukemia cells active anywhere.

His 3 years of treatment will go on, but the prognosis is very good. Alleluia!

Thank you for all your prayers and support,
Tom

Thank you for all those who continue to uphold this special family in your prayers. For regular updates, click here.

Holy Longing

2007-05-31T22:04:00.000-07:00

I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifice to all ecstasies. To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul." Therese of Lisieux

A few weeks ago a friend posted this> link about a book written about a former priest, who (brace yourself) “left the Catholic clergy in 1971 to marry Jackie, a former nun.”

My thoughts went immediately to two men of my own acquaintance …

One of them left seminary in the 70s, halfway through, and married a dear friend of mine. The two of them have since been actively involved in parish work, leading group after group of “lost lambs” (myself included) into the fold of the Good Shepherd and His Church. Both of them are eager to see a time when the Church does away with the “celibacy requirement” for her priests. However, whenever they voice this opinion (it seems to crop up when I’m around), my mind immediately returns to an encounter with a certain Jesuit priest I know.

I met this man for the first time as he was about to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination. He had spent much of that time as a seminary professor, raising spiritual sons who would follow after him. During the interview, I asked him if he had always wanted to be a priest.

“No, not at first,” he replied softly. “There was a young woman, you see, who I loved very much…” His eyes grew soft, remembering.

Fiona was a very good girl. But I was resigned to be a priest, and I never doubted that this was God’s will for me. Before Fiona entered the convent, I wanted to marry her. I knew this wasn’t what God wanted for me. Still, I bargained with God, “Now let me marry Fiona, we can have ten children who can be nuns and priests.” But He didn’t take me up on it, and I understood what God wanted me to do. I would be a priest.

God said to me, “Do you love this girl, you want to be with her? You love her, and always want to be with her? I want you to give her back to me, and I will be your love. I am infinitely more loving, I love you more than she could ever love you, I know you through and through. If you will accept me as your love, I will give myself – all that I am – to you.”

What I had for Fiona was a selfish love, a self-indulgent kind of love. I enjoyed being with her because it made me feel good. But it would not be that way for me. There would be no emotional, no physical consolation. “You will serve me – I will teach you to serve me – with a true love, without those sensible pleasures.” And so I said yes, and I received such grace. I was accepting in the dark, a life without any particular joy – that was how it was going to be.

When God let me know I was going to be a priest, I immediately wrote to Fiona and to my parish priest, telling them – I burned all my bridges, there was no opportunity to back out.

Fiona entered the convent the following September. Later, I had an opportunity to talk with her older sister, who told me about this Carmelite nun, Teresa of the Child Jesus, and urged me to read her biography. When I went to the library, I couldn’t find Teresa (of Avila) but I did find Therese (of Lisieux). I opened up “A Story of a Soul” and I began to read.

A shower, an indescribable shower of love and tenderness rained down upon me. I was just overwhelmed with feelings of tenderness and love. I had never felt this love of God in my heart before. In the book Therese said she felt a shower of graces coming down, and I knew that this is what I was experiencing.

When Father finished, we both had tears in our eyes. I did not doubt that he had suffered greatly – there is no pain greater, I think, inflicting pain on someone who loves you. But oh, what a prize he had won!

I think about Father L. often, when I hear of this one or that one who has retraced his or her steps along a pathway of intention. Sometimes it involves a broken promise, other times a broken heart … a shattered dream, or weak resolve. We human beings are frail creatures, and there are times when the moment comes and (God help us) like Peter we falter.

And then the cock crows.

In His mercy, God often redeems even the poorest of our choices in unexpected ways. He blesses us far beyond anything we have reason to expect. That’s just His way.

And part of that mercy includes never knowing the many blessings that might have been ours, that could have been others’, had we simply stayed the course.

Jesus once said to a would-be disciple, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Just as a plow horse wears blinders (only God, the Great Sower, sees infinitely ahead), we must orient ourselves always toward the present. What is God asking of you now?

In this moment, there is grace enough for the next step. But if you break your focus, if you set your sights either backward or too far forward, disordered longings can grip you and keep you from embracing all God wants you to have and do, right now. Have you ever experienced this?

I have. I remember a time about three years ago, when it looked as though our foster children (who had been with us over two years) were going to be returned to their birth family. I spent three days in bed, unable to cope with the prospect of losing them. I let myself get too far ahead … and it paralyzed me. For those three days I stopped plowing, straining vainly to see (and yet fearful of what I might find).

We do it all the time, don’t we?

“If only I could be with _________, then I would be truly happy.”
“If only I could have ________ (a child, a spouse, a better job, a healing), I’ll never ask God for anything else.”
“If only I didn’t have (or had) __________, I could serve God freely.”

Enough. We must place these longings into the hands of our Heavenly Father, that we might be free for the work at hand. One day, one step, one furrow at a time, trusting that when the time is right, each of these longings will be fulfilled in infinitely better ways than ever we could have imagined.

Jesus, I trust in You.

Francis Beckwith, Cont'd

2007-05-31T17:03:00.000-07:00

For those who have not yet read it, here is Tim Drake's excellent interview with the former president of the Evangelical Theological Society, whose reversion I recently wrote about on CE.

Enjoy!

Courage to Be Catholic

2007-05-14T06:22:00.000-07:00

Several years and another lifetime ago (when I was single), I used to attend CBA (Christian Booksellers Association Convention) each summer, to meet with authors. At the first convention I attended, shortly after I joined Servant, I was particularly nervous about one meeting -- breakfast with Elisabeth Elliot and her husband Lars. Elisabeth is a veteran missionary and evangelical radio personality, a revered spiritual icon in evangelical circles (My mother nearly fainted when she found out I had met Elisabeth. "Oh, dear ... you didn't tell her where you go to church now, did you Heidi?")

In point of fact, I had mentioned it -- but only after Elisabeth peppered me with questions until I couldn't evade them any longer. I wasn't ashamed of being Catholic, but I was a bit nervous about the possibility that Elisabeth might lecture me (like so many others had) about turning my back on the "faith of my fathers." In the eyes of this great faith warrior, I did not want to look like a slacker. And so, I decided not to bring up the subject. Anyway, I told myself, it's not like someone as famous as Elisabeth Elliot would care two bits about my little story.

I was wrong. We had just settled down over our pancakes when Elisabeth opened the conversation with, "So ... you haven't always been Catholic, have you dear?"

That mouthful of pancake was thoroughly masticated before I responded, cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"You mentioned that you used to work for Bethany House, and they are certainly not a Catholic publisher."

Still I hesitated... A little impatient, she continued. "Do you know my brother, Thomas Howard? He entered the Catholic Church some years ago. I only wish I had his courage."

I nearly choked. This comment from a woman who had courage enough to set up housekeeping for herself and her daughter among Aucas of Ecuador, the very Indian tribe who had martyred her husband and their associates in cold blood. Not only was this august personage not going to scold me, she admired the decision I had made to enter the Church, as her dear brother had! After she had sung the praises of the Catholic Church for several minutes, I worked up the nerve to ask Elisabeth why she did not follow in her brother's footsteps.

"Cowardice, I suppose. My listeners and readers simply would not understand."

That, I understood. I understand it even better now, in light of the recent hubbub surrounding the reversion of Dr. Francis Beckwith, former president of the Evangelical Theological Society. Despite the fact that it meant losing the respect and fellowship of his colleagues, not to mention his livelihood, Dr. Beckwith's courageous position was unequivocal: unless there is a serious theological reason not to, the default position of every believer must be to belong to the historical Church founded by Christ.

Why? In his book The Night is Far Spent, a collection of essays by Thomas Howard newly published by Ignatius Press, Dr. Howard offers five reasons for this "fallback position," which he outlines as the five "marks" of the church: her antiquity, authority, unity, liturgy, and sacraments. He writes:

What is at stake here is the rock-bottom question as to what worship is, and how you do it.... [W]orship is the thing we were created for -- to know God, and knowing him, to bless him and adore him forever....

To worship God is to ascribe worth to him. It is an activity distinct from teaching, and from fellowship, and from witnessing, and from sharing. It is an act, not an experience. ... Our task in worship is to offer the oblation of ourselves and our adoration at the Sapphire Throne.

Obviously this is a daunting and an august task. Fortunately we are not left to our own resources, nor to the whim of the moment, nor even to our own experience. The faithful have been worshipping God since the beginning, and there is help for us. All of us, even those of us who come from the so-called free churches ... are accustomed to borrowing secondhand, canned words to assist in worship. I am speaking of hymns. When we sing "Amazing Grace" or "O, For a Thousand Tongues to Sing," we are borrowing John Newton's or Charles Wesley's words. And we discover that, far from cramping or restricting our worship, these secondhand words bring us up to a level quite unattainable by our own spontaneous efforts. They take us away from ourselves. (p.254-255).

These reflections on worship contrast strangely with the protestations of many of those who leave the Church for what they perceive to be greener (certainly noisier) pastures. "I feel closer to God there ...," they say, or "the people are so much friendlier, and they have more to offer in the way of children's programs." Thinking they can choose a church the same way we can choose a new school or a new home, they rely on subjective factors of preference and comfort, rather than the single most important consideration of all: Which is the most authentic expression of the Body of Christ as He originally envisioned it? Not, "which is more entertaining?" but "Which leads me with surest steps along the pathway to holiness?" Not, "Which makes me feel good?" but "Which is most effective in treating my spiritual ills?" Not "which has the best music," but "which draws me closest to the sacramental presence of the Living Christ?"

Can you enter heaven without professing membership in the Catholic Church? Yes, the Church has always taught that there is hope for those outside her "visible boundaries" -- a hope that is based on the treasury of truth and faith that has been preserved by the Church for two thousand years. In the same way, a group of tourists who fall off a cruise ship hope that the lifeboat that has been tossed down will save them. The lifeboat (part of the equipment of the larger ship) may indeed save them; but how much better if they had never fallen overboard!

Holy Spirit, pour out your restorative presence among your people.
Unite us once more, we humbly pray,
with all our brothers and sisters in the faith,
for the glory of God and the benefit of all.

For the sake of His sorrowful Passion,
have mercy on us and on the whole world!

Gabriel is Home!

2007-05-11T14:03:00.000-07:00

Received this message from Tom this afternoon.

"We Are Home!!!!!! Update to follow shortly....."

Stay tuned...

Gabriel Update

2007-05-09T04:36:00.000-07:00

This evening, a little boy 2 1/2 years old, Gabriel's room mate, was diagnosed with Leukemia, just like Gabriel. Only, unlike Gabriel, only his mother is here with him. The little boy can hardly talk at that age, but during the day while he was feeling bad and gloomy, he snuggled up with mommy and was fine all day. Then ... when the lights went out and midnight approached, the nurses came in to give him some meds following his chemo treatment and he cried out, "Daddy! Daddy!"

But no daddy was there. Only a scared little boy and his mother who could not provide the strength and security that only a father could in that situation, no matter how hard she tried.

What happens to a society when men are absent? What happens to the children? Where have all the warrior fathers gone? Where are those white knights God created men to be? Where are these Soldiers of Christ, these warriors for the Kingdom, these protectors of the innocent? To use a military term, in most cases, they are AWOL (Absent With Out Leave). This is a violation of article 86 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, punishable by death during wartime. But, I guess that is not politically correct, is it....?

"Keep Your Fork"

2007-04-26T09:27:00.000-07:00

Received this today from my friend Patty.

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The pastor didn't know quite what to say. "Your fork?" He asked gently.

The young woman nodded, then explained.

My grandmother once said to me, "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming ... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie, Something wonderful, with substance!

"So, when people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand, I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' And when they ask, I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come.'"

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did, better than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he'd had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork, and
told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it, either. He was right.

So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.

Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep your fork."Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.

Splinters of Memory (on Piles of Human Frailty)

2007-04-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

I was coming out of church last week when I saw her: A former housemate who had exited my life suddenly, gracelessly, and on very bad terms. Her official reason for wanting to break the lease was the "ancient" farmhouse plumbing, which was a little too rustic to suit her. In actuality, it was my "provential" attitude that sent her over the edge. She and our other housemate (whose name did not appear on the lease) ganged up to persuade me to bend on the "no opposite-sex overnight house guest" policy; when I refused, they walked. I was grateful when the farmer who rented the place to us (who never did like my housemate) agreed to lower the rent to something within my budget, just so I would remain the sole tenant for the duration of my lease.

Eight years passed. Last week, when our eyes met in the narthex, neither of us knew what to say -- indeed, it took me several minutes even to place her. Judging from her hunted expression, it took her several seconds less. "You!" we blurted together. Each of us had a child in tow, so we smiled at each other weakly and kept walking. She was great with child ... married, presumably. That's good. Each of us had moved on and were in different places. Maybe we could just forget about the past, and start fresh.

The following week, I saw her again and raised a hand to wave. She ducked her head and ran out the door. I followed a few steps behind, and saw her get into a van with a heavy-set woman behind the wheel ... Then she gestured at me, and the two of them began to laugh heartily.

At me? Really? I see ...

You know, I can understand it in some respects. At that time I was absolutely doing the right thing by insisting on maintaining the "no overnight guest" policy. It was for my good as well as their own. They were young, and they were engaging in behavior that (if you were to ask them now, and they were being honest with themselves) they would probably tell you that they regret ... but that they engaged in for a variety of reasons that had nothing to do with the reasons God originally designed sex.

And here's the thing: If I'd invested more in the relationship, I might have been able to help them to avoid some of those choices. This is true in parenting (whether biological or spiritual) and it is true in all kinds of other relationships. We can "mandate" -- but it's rarely effective. Or we can "mentor" -- something that takes time, and comes from a place of relationship. By dictating, all I earned was their ridicule. I treated them like children ... so they acted accordingly. A good lesson to remember for the future, right?

Happy Easter!

Friend of the Groom?

2007-03-31T08:02:00.000-07:00

I met my husband through the local university ballroom dance club. He was an advanced student with several amateur competitions under his belt; I had signed up primarily as a way to meet people, having recently moved from California to Michigan to start a new job. That he was willing to dance with me at all was something of a miracle (he says it was the lemon tarts I served at a club luncheon).

One of the first lessons I had to learn was that, if we were going to dance together, I had to let him lead. Otherwise, a graceful waltz soon degenerated into an awkward power struggle. Now, the fact that I let him lead didn’t mean he was superior to me in any other way (though in fact his dance training was far superior to mine). His job was intrinsically different -- and the moment I lost sight of that fact, the party was over.

This week I read a post that reminded me of those leather-soled shoe days, more specifically of the days when I had to fight my "natural born leader" tendencies and ... follow. In those moments of feminine receptivity, I was keenly aware of the complementarity of the sexes as God designed them.

To be perfectly honest, I am equally troubled by the original post -- the women who thinks the laity should "strike" until the ordained clergy come to their senses and allow laity to serve in every possible capacity (altar servers, lectors, Eucharistic ministers, etc.) -- as well as the half-dozen men who leaped to "put her in her place." Honestly, gentlemen ... don't you know a damsel in distress when you hear one? "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger" (Prov 15:1).

The Mass can be described many ways. It is, first and foremost, the "summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed and the font from which her power flows" (CCC 1074). It is a "public work" of communal prayer (CCC 1069). It contains song and music "closely connected with the liturgical action" (CCC 1191). When I read this last passage, I am reminded once more of the reality that the Mass is a temporal expression of an eternal reality: the love of the Groom for His Bride, and of the wedding feast that is being prepared for us in the New Jerusalem.

This last image -- the liturgy as a dance -- is what I would want to show my poor, disgruntled sister, and all those like her who are chafing at the "new" restrictions being placed upon them in their parishes. To turn this into a battle of the sexes is to miss the point. We image "Bride" in a way our brothers never can. And who do you suppose will have an easier time of it when we all get to heaven … and the band strikes up for that bridal waltz? The ones who patiently and joyfully followed her groom (no matter how human and undeniably fallible) here below.

(I have no idea what the boys will do … sit and watch from the sidelines a great deal, I imagine.)

I'm not saying women shouldn't lector or shouldn't sing in the choir or shouldn't bring the Eucharist to nursing homes ... We all have gifts, and we all need to use them if the community is going to function properly. However, there needs to be order, and in a family that means the members need to follow the head. So ... listen to your Father, or go take a time-out! :-)

Seeds of Faith A'Bloomin': First writer's contest

2007-03-05T14:13:00.000-08:00

Funny thing happened today. I was sending out a special mailing to a few institutions I thought should subscribe to "Canticle," and was going to include a copy of one of our recent articles that seemed particularly relevent to their needs. I had a simple choice to make: color copies, which would make the better impression? Or black-and-white, which was significantly cheaper?

It was tempting to go the cheaper route, as I was financing this effort myself. But then I thought, "What impression do I want to make here? What is going to get the results? How much faith do I have that God is going to bless this effort?"

And so I bit the bullet and went full-color. It's Lent ... nobody is going to notice if we eat beans and rice all week! "Lord, I offer this to you, and ask that You take these little seeds of faith and make them bloom for Your Kingdom..."

Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the mailbox that afternoon and found a check from one of my clients ... money I'd forgotten they owed me, representing three times my small investment. I had to laugh. And then I smiled, reminded of the little ditty I learned from my mother, who was a great believer in these kinds of "seedling" prayers...

Have you ever talked to God above, told him that you need a friend to love?
Pray in Jesus name believing that God answers prayer.
Have you told him all your cares and woes, every tiny little fear he knows,
You can always run to him and he will answer prayer!
You can whisper in a crowd to him, you can cry when you're alone to him,
You don't have to pray aloud to him, he knows your thoughts.
On a lofty mountain peak, he's there, in a meadow by a stream, he's there
Anywhere on earth you go, he's been there from the start.
Find the answer in his Word, it's true, you'll be strong because he walks with you.
By his faithfulness he'll change you, too, God answers prayer!

OK... Now it's your turn! Send me a little story about the last unexpected answer to prayer that you received. The winner will win $25 and get printed in Canticle (300-500 words) -- both in print and online!

Looking Toward Jerusalem

2007-03-04T17:52:00.000-08:00

It happens every Lent. We get to that place in the "big red book" and start singing a song that I have never managed to get through without choking up.

I have fixed my eyes on your hills,Jerusalem my
destiny!/ Though I can not see the end for me, I can not turn away.

We have set our hearts for the way; this journey is our destiny./ Let no one walk alone.The journey makes us one.
Other spirits, lesser gods, have courted me with
lies,/ Here among you I have found a truth which bids me rise. *chorus*

To the tombs I went to mourn the hope I thought was gone,/ Here among you I awoke to unexpected dawn. *chorus*

I can't listen to this song without thinking about the first time I ever heard it: as a candidateI poised at the edge, fearful of diving in to ... what? Heresy? Ostracism? Liberation? I wasn't sure ... probably all of it. After nearly a year of study and reflection, I was still not 100% sure about leaping in to the Church with both feet. Something still held me back.

Several somethings, actually. My horrified parents. My spiritual ennui, complete with residual guilt over a number of personal choices. At the time, "Church Girl" had slidden far from grace, feeling cut off from every line of support I had ever known. In restrospect, I now realize that I was probably depressed. The only person, other than my sponsor, who would attend the confirmation would be an off-again, on-again romantic interest who (let's be honest) was not someone I should have been with in the first place. Oh, and a woman who had reached out to me and offered me a job when I was this close to living on the street. Not my finest hour.

My sponsor suggested that I might want to wait another year. I knew this was not an option ... Waiting wasn't going to resolve anything ... This was confirmed by the Filipino priest who heard (no saying how much he understood) my first confession. "You have a path. You need to follow it," he told me. He also told me a story about a dog race and a rabbit, the point of which was that distractions could deter me only insofar as I let them.

So, I took a deep breath and leaped ... And never looked back. Like the old song said, "I have decided to follow Jesus ... no turning back, no turning back." It's the dangling your feet on the edge of the pool that will get you every time. Danglers never get anywhere. It's the swimmers who discover the treasures hidden under the surface.

So if you're looking toward Jerusalem, take heart and a deep breath. Then dive in --

Under the Mercy...

"No God a Lod"

2007-02-21T05:19:00.000-08:00

Christopher has penmanship like his father's: A cross between a serial killer's and a neurosurgeon's. With a burst of newfound literacy, his words run together without capitals, spaces, uppers and lowers jumbed together. It has a profoundly confusing affect. We offered him a dollar for each exercise page, a knock-off of a typing exercise from decades past: "The quick brown fox jumps. The lazy dog sleeps." To no avail.

So you can imagine my mixed feelings this morning, coming out to find the following sign posted on his bathroom door: "Sarah is not a lod in this bathroom!" It was his first independent expression ... a cry for privacy. I took it down and put it in the pile of papers to be saved. The sentiment was not exactly condusive to peace and tranquility (if Sarah were old enough to read, I imagine she would camp out in the bathroom just to get her brother's goat). But to me it was a sign that my little boy is growing up.

Christopher's handmade sign has implications for each of us. As we contemplate our Lenten offerings ... no candy, no alcohol, no (gasp) T.V. ... most of us have some area that would be especially difficult to offer back to God. For me, it would be either Diet Coke or lunchtime "Judging Amy" reruns. When I was in the full-time working world, I gave up Diet Coke -- it turned out to be more a sacrifice for my secretary, who treatened to quit if I ever pulled a caffeine deprivation stunt like that again.

As we enter the Lenten season, let's take a moment to consider not only what we will offer God out of a desire to grow in perfect love for Him. Candy ... and compassion. Alcohol ... and adoration. Diet Coke ... and the desire to keep it a secret from the world around me, making my little sacrifice a true labor of love.

In Memoriam: Missy Saxton (1997 - Dec 8, 2006)

2006-12-08T06:17:00.000-08:00

It's the sight every pet owner dreads: a tangle of matted, bloody fur lying in the middle of the road. At least she didn't suffer. We, on the other hand, are a mess.

Missy was a remarkable animal. While I was living alone in a rambling farmhouse, I carried Missy with me everywhere because my farmer landlord didn't want dog nails to mark up the wood floors. I couldn't bear to leave her outside (his preference), and his sister talked the man into letting me have Missy in the house. ("A girl living alone needs some company, don't you know.") In deference to his sensibilities, I carried her.

She carried me, too, through breakups and moves and transitions. In between the wedding and the reception, Craig and I took our white limo back to the farmhouse, to spend our first moments as man and wife with my "baby." It seemed only right, since she was the one who first gave her seal of approval of Craig (see the story in the upcoming issue of "Canticle," Jan/Feb 2007).

Missy taught me about patience and diligence, and about sneakiness. She loved to chase cows, and would purposefully elude me when I called her in for dinner so she could continue her game. She'd sit outside my window and bark -- not to be let in, but to let me know she was still there for the taking. On one particular occasion, she was still out there at 2 in the morning, so Craig and I sat on my front porch with a quilt over our heads. Ever curious, Missy got up close for a good look ... and we nabbed her and dragged her, yelping indignantly, inside the house. Shortly after that we discovered her fear of lasers, and kept a pocket laser handy on those nights when she needed a little extra persuasion to come inside.

She loved peanut butter and hide-and-seek, and chasing whatever you would throw at her. She hated being left behind and dog food (she infinitely preferred the people variety). She loved our kids, and she loved my husband ... but when push came to shove, she would always come looking for me.

I'm not looking forward to the days ahead, alone in this big rambling house while Craig is at work and the kids are at school. I don't want another dog -- not yet. Some things in life just can't be replaced.

Please remember us in the coming week. Especially for the grace I'll need to tell the kids their dog won't be coming home again.

Fondly, with tears,

Heidi

Prayer for the Faithful Departed

2006-07-15T18:06:00.002-07:00

As the older generation of my family reaches their twilight years, and begin to moving higher up the mountain toward their final destination, some find themselves in the enviable position of, having nothing to lose, voicing ideas and dreams they never before allowed themselves to utter.

As I listen to them speak, I am reminded of an old friend who died two years ago. The last time I saw Charlie Shedd, a friend and I were visiting with him in his home in Athens, Georgia, rocking on the back porch where he had built a swing for his first (some would say one true) love, Martha. I never had the privilege of meeting her -- she died of cancer years before I struck up a friendship with her husband, whose books I edited when I worked at Servant.

Charlie Shedd was never one to self-censor, and his work was the better for it even though it raised the hackles of a few "upright, uptight" evangelicals in his day ("The Stork is Dead" was a singular example of this). However, I was floored when this preacherman came out with a twilight confession about his beloved Martha: "You know, there are times when I still see her, stepping out of the shower, or swinging here in her favorite yellow sweater. I don't know if it's just a powerful memory or some kind of dream -- but it's as real as you and I sitting here."

There was a time in my life when this sort of confidence would have freaked me out -- but as a Catholic, I was intrigued by the idea of being so close to another human soul, of loving that person so much, that he or she never leaves even in death. Some might consider it one aspect of the "communion of saints," these familiar apparitions, examples of imperfect love perfected in glory.

We were made for eternal relationship. Death is a temporary circumstance, a transition. And now that Charlie, too, is gone -- having passed from his earthly existence to venture toward his eternal reward -- those of us who knew him, remember him still with great fondness.

That is not to say that Charlie was a saint, though he was a great soul. Like most of us, Charlie was a work in progress; no doubt once admitted through the gates, the angels will have cause to rejoice at his expansive, loving heart. However, in the event he had a bit of "washing up" to do, first, I offer this on behalf of all God-fearing albeit somewhat over-confident souls who find themselves -- despite all expectations to the contrary -- on the wrong side of heaven's gates.

Heavenly Father,
we offer up to you our heartfelt intentions,
united with the merits of Your precious Son,
whose death ransoms and restores
every soul who calls upon Your name.

We seek Your mercy,
not only for ourselves but also for those
wandering in darkness, mystified and alone.
Send Your angels to guide them through
the water and the fire, till every blemish fades.

And when we meet again,
may we rejoice eternally not because we were right,
but because You are righteous. And may we adore You
not because we escaped the fires of hell,
but because You are the true and lasting light.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
especially those who did not believe in life
that they would need our prayers in death.

Dear Jesus, be with those we love.
Especially those imperfect souls we loved best
while they were with us.

(c) 2006 Heidi Hess Saxton

Pulling the Wool Over... My Head?

2006-05-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I called my sister Kathy to see if she had survived the flooding (she lives in the NorthEast), and she said to me, "Say, you remember a year ago or so you asked me what I thought about covering my head in church? At the time I didn't see the point . .. but I'm thinking about it now." Turns out, she went to a women's conference in which the speaker told a story that made Kathy think twice:

One day a farmer went out to the field and discovered that his flock was in trouble. One of the newborn lambs had died, and another had been rejected by its mother (different animal). The farmer tried to get the rejected lamb to go to the ewe that had lost hers, but she would have none of it. The lamb was dying, and the farmer had to do some fast thinking.

Quickly, he skinned the dead lamb, and wrapped the wool around the rejected one, smearing the living lamb with blood from the dead one. Miraculously, the mother sniffed the lamb, and allowed it to nurse. The covering made the lamb acceptable to its mother.

"I've been thinking that wearing a covering on my head might be symbolic of the spiritual covering [in baptism] of Christ," Kathy said to me.

I think she's right. Just as the priest (a man) represents Christ, victim and priest, so we as women represent the Bride. Our true glory, then, is not our hair... but the covering that restores us to eternal life.

Just a thought. Thanks, Kathy.

My "Kid" the Border Collie

2006-05-16T05:02:00.000-07:00

The last few posts have been particularly heavy, so I'd like to turn to something a little lighter. A CatholicExchange.com reader recently criticized the fact that I refer to my border collie, Missy, as one of my "children." She writes, "I realize the author knows the difference between owning a dog and loving a child... It just bothers me."

Of course she is right to suppose that I know the difference between owning a dog and raising a human child. His Holiness the late, great John Paul II urged pet owners not to ascribe to pets the treatment and dignity due only to other people. And yet, he also acknowledged the unique and privileged bond that can exist between humans and other creatures. (Go to http://www.dreamshore.net/rococo/pope.html.)

Missy (my border collie) has been with me since I was single, and -- believe it or not -- helped me to acquire many useful parenting skills. For one thing, since I didn't become a real parent until I was well into my thirties, she kept me flexible -- inside and out!

I'll never forget the night when she was a puppy refusing to come in for the night (we lived on a farm, and she spent the day chasing cows with the owner). She wouldn't come in for supper -- and if we went inside she sat outside my bedroom window and whined. This went on for hours (making it impossible for me to go to bed because of the noise), until Craig and I figured a way to outwit her: We sat with a bedspread pulled over our heads on the front porch, until her curiosity got the better of her -- then we tossed the blanket over the indignant dog and pulled her inside. Then Craig went home -- and I went to sleep. A short time later, I discovered that a pocket laser pen freaked Missy out so that she would bolt inside the moment she saw the little red light. No more runaways.

The Dog Gets the Man

Missy is also at least partly responsible for my husband and I getting together. For our first official date, Craig invited me and my little "blind spot" on a picnic at a local park. Gallup Park is divided in two by the Huron River, which is spanned by arched Japanese-style bridges at either end of the park. When we arrived, we picked out a spot near the edge of the river, and Craig proceded to toss Missy's favorite pink ball into the river for her to retrieve. Missy was only about nine months old at the time, and would wade in only as far as her undercarriage.

After a couple of throws, Craig got one in a little too deep, and Missy waded in then turned back and looked at him as her precious ball floated down the river. The message was clear: "YOU got me in this mess. YOU get the ball!"

Obligingly, Craig took off his socks and shoes and waded into the mucky river to retrieve the dog's favorite toy, dropping his beeper in the process. Dripping wet, he clambered on the bank and presented the ball to Missy -- then suggested that we go somewhere so he could dry off. As we made our way back to the car we crossed the archway. Missy -- who apparently had not finished "testing" this interloper for her master's affections -- waited till we reached the highest point on the bridge... and spit her ball back into the water. She then turned and looked at him again, with an unmistakeable expression. "There. You gonna get THAT one, too?"

To his credit, Craig did not toss Missy over the rail to fish the ball out for herself. "Sorry Missy," he said mildly. "I'm not going to be able to retrieve THAT one."

The very next time he showed up for a date, he had a new pink ball for my "problem child."

So you'll forgive my blind spot, won't you? Missy has been with me longer than my husband and children, and so it is hard to think of her as "just" a dog.

Creaturely Love

When I was in seminary, there were sometimes rousing arguments concerning the nature of pets -- particularly the quality of "animal intelligence" One professor in particular insisted that animals cannot "reason," that they have only instinct -- and that "of course" animals will not be in heaven, since they have no rational soul.

Strictly speaking, animals do have a qualitatively different soul from that of humans, who alone are made in the image of God. Humans are capable of infinitely greater good ... and infinitely greater evil. And yet, many pet owners will also concur with the idea that the loving, loyal companionship of an animal does something very special for our own capacity to love, expands it in a way that few other relationships can.

In his highly recommended book, "A Travel Guide to Heaven," Anthony Destefano observes that it is not unthinkable that God would permit our beloved animals to be in heaven with us, since God does not waste goodness. (I can't find my copy to quote it directly, since it seems every time I get my hands on a copy someone dies and I give it away). But I think he has a point. Love is what makes heaven heavenly. And though it is the greatest and most perfect love -- the love of God -- that cements the streets of gold, it seems only reasonable that in that vast expanse of goodness God would be able to find a tiny corner to celebrate those hints of heavenly goodness we enjoyed while we were on earth. (Christopher plans to ask God to show him the dinosaurs as soon as he gets there. I will ask for my recalcitrant border collie.)

St. Francis, pray for us, that we might learn to love and serve God even more faithfully and gladly than our pets serve us. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Is Domestic Violence Grounds for Divorce?

2006-05-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

Recently I came across a post from a woman who is contemplating divorce. She writes:

I have struggled with depression, anxiety and stress-related problems since I was a teenager. I was abused as a child by my father (including the most intimate kind of abuse between father and daughter). My mother left when I was little and my stepmom was abusive physically, verbally, emotionally and intimately as well. For the last year I have been in therapy on and off.
I've been learning to set boundaries and learning that I am indeed a person with worth, a person that God created, loves and considers precious. My whole life's paradigm has changed. I deserve to be safe, happy and taken care of. Realizing these things about myself has helped me distance myself from people who abuse me.... I've actually started making friends with people who are kind, who make me feel good about myself. My friends are people I look forward to spending time with. I didn't know that life could be this beautiful.

At face value, this woman's story is bound to cause a rise of sympathy -- what could be more beautiful than a woman who had experienced this kind of lostness to find herself restored to wholeness? If her husband of fifteen years is abusing her (verbally or in any other way), she is right to expect that she need not endure the assault without making any effort to shield herself and her children from the effects. However, the question of divorce is premature at best.

I'm more familiar than I care to be with the dynamics of domestic violence and spousal abuse (though, for the record, my husband is a prince). I wrote to this woman, "My heart goes out to you for all the violence you have experienced in your lifetime, and the ongoing struggle you face to reconciling yourself to your past. Frankly, the road ahead of you may well be as difficult at times as the piece you have already traveled.One of the most difficult challenges for you will be learning the difference between that which is safe and that which is gratifying. While the Church does not expect you to submit to abuse, there is a big difference between securing safety and obtaining a divorce. The first is important -- the second should be sought only after every other course has been tried without success."

In the August issue of Canticle magazine, I wrote an article entitled, "When Abuse Strikes Home: How to Respond to a Victim of Domestic Violence." It lists the three messages every victim of violence needs to hear, and quotes from the USCCB document (http://www.usccb.org/laity/help.shtml) that acknowledges the responsibilities of faith communities to do their part to wipe out this social cancer.

Concentrate on Issues of Safety

The fact remains, however, that the solution to domestic violence is not necessarily divorce, at least not immediately. Especially for women with children, divorce very often produces new problems as often as it resolves old ones. Nevertheless, the victim of domestic violence can and should take steps to create a safety plan for herself and her children that will shield them from the affects of the abuse as much as possible.

Because of the trauma associated with abuse, which can cloud the thinking of the most level-headed woman, she may need help to form a plan that will work for her situation. Yes, she needs sympathy and concern -- but most of all she needs the loving insight of someone who is looking out for her spiritual welfare as much as her physical wellbeing.

If she is being verbally or emotionally abused, for example, encourage her to remove herself and her children from the situation. Leave the room -- and even the house, if necessary. If it is more serious -- including the threat of violence -- help her to create a "safety kit" of clothes, medicines, and important papers that can be stored away in case of emergency. Encourage her to remove herself when she sees the pattern of violence escalating, taking the kids and giving her husband time to cool off.

If the woman is uncomfortable with his sexual advances (particularly if she has a history of sexual abuse), it may help for her to make an appointment with a Catholic marriage counselor, either on her own or with her husband. She should also seek out the counsel of a faithful Catholic confessor who can help her discern the right course of action.

What Should Friends and Family Do?

Friends -- especially women friends -- can be a source of comfort and support. However, a victim of abuse must ultimately choose her course for herself since she is the one who will have to live with the consequences of those choices. Friends wanting to be supportive need to exercise caution, compassion -- and a measure of detachment, recognizing that the victim needs to be confident in her own ability to care for herself and her family.

For a victim of domestic violence, this can be a scary place. She may instinctively look for someone to "rescue" her because of her lack of confidence in her ability to help herself. She may be particularly vulnerable to inappropriate emotional attachments with men, even married men, looking to them as substitute caregivers for herself or her children. For this reason, if a married couple is helping a victim of abuse, the primary friendship should be with the woman, leaving the husband to interact with the children, who may well be in need of a stable and safe male presence in their troubled lives.

Should She Leave Him for Good?

The time may come when a permanent separation is in order, and even (with the help of a pastor) she may decide to seek an annulment (which of course is preceded by a civil divorce). However, this is an issue that is separate from the issue of safety. Family and friends of a domestic abuse victim do well to encourage the woman to separate the two issues, dealing with the more immediate crisis (the abuse) first.

Perpetrators of domestic violence are creatures of control and entitlement. The woman should be prepared for the fact that whatever abuse she endured within the marriage may well escalate in the event that she decides to divorce her husband. He may seek out retribution financially, familially (suing for custody of the children), and even physically. This is all the more reason that the victim of abuse needs to reach a place where she is confident in her ability to care for herself and her children, first, and plan carefully for whatever may be ahead.

God bless you!

The Vagina Monologues, Domestic Violence, and George Weigel

2006-05-12T08:54:00.000-07:00

Today CatholicExchange.com ran George Weigel’s article “An Opportunity Missed” (http://www.catholicexchange.com/vm/index.asp?vm_id=1&art_id=32976), criticizing the president of Notre Dame University, Father Jenkins, for allowing a production of "The Vagina Monologues" to run on campus.

While I rarely find myself on the opposite side of the ideological fence with Mr. Weigel, in this case I would suggest that, while I agree it was not a good idea to sponsor this production with university resources, there could be legitimate reasons for the “creative contextualization” of the work in another context. For me, the issues to be considered: Could this work be a useful teaching tool, and is the intended audience ready to receive it?

Out of the Saltshaker

First, an illustration. I attended a production of the V-Monologues here in Ann Arbor, a benefit for Safe House, a local domestic violence shelter. (Went with a girlfriend, as this is not appropriate for young teenagers or husbands because of the anti-male bias). We have incidents of domestic violence in my family, and so this is an issue I feel compelled to support whenever I can. (A full-length feature article on my family story will be published about this in the August issue of Canticle magazine. To get a copy, go to www.womenofgrace.com.)

At the benefit after-glow, I introduced myself to several members of the SafeHouse staff, and told them that I was a Catholic writer. Immediately they assumed I was pro-abortion, pro-gay marriage, and anti-establishment (the only kind of Catholic, presumably, they encounter in their work).

"Not at all," I told them. "Have you ever read the Catholic Bishop's letter on domestic violence? It sends a very clear message to the world that we need to work together to end it -- and that a woman being abused does not need to subject herself or her children to this kind of treatment. This is the kind of client resource you need at your fingertips ... Can I send you a copy?" (To read this document, go to http://www.usccb.org/laity/help.shtml.)

Watching the production, I was struck by the fact that nowhere does the beauty of authentic Catholic femininity shine so brightly as when it is placed alongside the darkness of the prevailing culture. Jesus ate and drank with sinners ... I've got to believe that prostitutes and tax collectors were not always diligent about keeping kosher! If we are going to be salt and light, we must get out of the collective saltshaker from time to time and find these "points of connection."

There is a strong anti-Church bias among those who attempt to address the social cancer of domestic abuse, seeing us as part of the problem rather than part of the solution. They will never come to us to seek out the truth; we must go to them. From my point of view, in my situation The Vagina Monologues provided an “opportunity found.”

Ready, Even If You're Not

When I originally posted this response to Mr. Weigel's article on the discussion board of CatholicExchange, several were quick to remind me that the issue was not whether adults should see the production, but whether a college should sponsor it (arguing that it was contrary to the principles of good Catholic education).

However, I'm not willing to concede this point, either.

I can understand the need to carefully form children in truth before expecting them to defend error. And I understand that parents sending their children to a Catholic university would expect that kind of careful faith formation to be reinforced in their learning.

And yet, college-age young adults -- even (and perhaps especially ) those who have been given the benefit of this kind of faith formation at home -- will often explore alternative points of view, including those that offend the sensibilities of their parents. Given the choice -- my daughter sneaking out to see V-Monologues with a group of friends and chatting about it over a pitcher of margueritas, or discussing it in a Catholic educational forum --I'd definitely prefer the latter.

This is very different from saying, "They'll have sex/drink/do drugs anyway, so let's provide a safe environment for it." Criticial thinking is crucial to their long-term spiritual health; the other behaviors are detrimental to it.

When my children reach college age, I will want their education to include learning HOW to dialogue with people who subscribe to these kinds of cultural biases. For example, a teacher might have chosen to show a few brief, carefully-chosen segments as part of a classroom discussion on authentic Catholic womanhood. However, many Catholic parents would object to even this kind of exposure to the messages contained in "The Vagina Monologues". And I'm not sure their children are better off for it.

Critical Context

All this is predicated on the idea that students learn the truth first. One of the other posters indicated that Notre Dame doesn't have a class on the Theology of the Body -- which would be an important prerequisite to discuss intelligently the subject of human sexuality.

In an article for National Review criticizing the Notre Dame president and administration (http://www.nationalreview.com/campbell/campbell.asp), Colleen Carroll Campbell hints at a cause to hope for this kind of critical thinking when she reports on student efforts to combat the negative affects of the VM production.

The new feminism is still relatively unknown among Catholics, even those studying at Catholic universities. But some Notre Dame undergraduates are working to change that. Earlier this spring, on the same week that university departments sponsored The Vagina Monologues, three young women organized and hosted a two-day conference on the new feminism. With some help from Notre Dame's Center for Ethics and Culture and its Right to Life club, the fledgling effort of "The Edith Stein Project" attracted 21 speakers and 300 students from across America to discuss problems confronting women today and ways to promote the dignity and vocation of women in the modern world. Response was so enthusiastic that the students plan to make the conference an annual affair.

So, Father Jenkins, I believe you have your work cut out for you if you are going to uphold your original intent -- to make Notre Dame a place where Catholics learn to think, and think with the Church. Now that the horse is out of the barn, so to speak, it's time to use the situation as a point of fruitful discussion -- starting with an affirmation of the truth.

"Should I Cover My Hair, God?" Part Deux

2006-05-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that even something done for a good and holy reason can have unintended consequences?

Last year I began to cover my hair before going into Mass. The whole thing started as an experiment: I remember discussing my advisor the reasons Catholic women had suddenly stopped covering, after having done so for more than two thousand years. Why, given the teaching of the Apostle Paul, did Catholic women no cover their "glory"?

He was, as usual, unfailingly kind and patient. "If you were to cover your hair at Mass," he observed, "It could be a sign of humility, and a good thing." And so, I decided to start covering, and during that time, I discovered it to be a source of true blessing, as I wrote in a previous article on Catholic Exchange: http://www.catholicexchange.com/vm/index.asp?vm_id=2&art_id=29369

Under Cover

For six months I draped my scarf or hat over my head unobtrusively as I stepped into the sanctuary. Of course, doing ANYTHING unobtrusively is next to impossible with my two reambunctious little ones. Three-year-old Sarah was fascinated with my covering, and kept tugging at it to see if she could dislodge the thing. She especially liked playing with it when I was on the kneeler, leaving me in a less-than-prayerful mood.

About five months into my six-month experiment, I took a class on "Women in the Gospels" at seminary, and the priest teaching the class informed us that binding up one's hair was considered by some to be an acceptable alternative to the covering. Still, I decided to stay the course.

The final straw came at the six-month point, when I arrived late at church for a teacher's meeting, and realized that the others had gone in to a special Mass. I had left my purse (with the headcovering) in the car, and had a choice to make: Go in to Mass without my head covered, or sit outside and wait for the others. I knelt down outside the day chapel and followed along... where Father Gordon found me a few minutes later. He looked at me, surprised and puzzled.

"Go on in," he urged me.

"But I'm not prepared," I protested. He shook his head and kept going.

It was then I realized things had gotten out of hand. In my effort to do the right thing, I had gotten so caught up in form that it had gotten in the way of my taking my place in the public prayer life of my community. Remembering my advisor's words, I realized that, just as wearing a covering can be a sign of humility, it can also be a source of pride.

Three Indispensable "Body Parts"

As the "body of Christ" on earth, we have members with a variety of personalities, charisms, and gifts. We also each have a different purpose to serve -- even within the prayer life of the Church.

The human body has three layers: The inner core of the abdomen, with its delicate vital organs protected and transported by the skeleton. The brain and heart, the lungs and stomach would not last long if they were outside the body, exposed to the elements. This corresponds to the mystical aspect of Church life: the contemplatives and intercessors and mystics that sustain the life of the Church by the vital connection to the Spirit.

The next layer, the skeleton, provides structure and support. Without this structure, we would not survive, either -- just as, within in the Church, we need the structure that is provided by Tradition and the ongoing teaching authority of the Magisterium. There are also "skeletons" in the pews, members who are diligent in drawing the attention of the community back to the core teachings of the Church contained in the Catechism and Magisterial documents, and ensuring that as a community we do not wander too far afield in the liturgy. These men and women who have often invested their lives in writing, speaking, and teaching in the name of the Church are often walking encyclopedias of canon law and Church history. The American Church in particular is indebted to these brothers and sisters, and their zeal for the New Evangelization.

And yet, the internal organs and skeleton does not comprise the whole body: a third layer is also needed. This fleshy, "huggable" outer layer is comprised of the ordinary Catholics in the pew who live out their faith in daily life through relationship. Through corporal and spiritual works of mercy, and daily perseverance at work and within the faith community, they are lights in a world of darkness. They preach a wordless Gospel of love, sometimes because they know it is the most effective way to convey its message, other times (let's be honest) because they don't know the nuts and bolts of faith as they should. They are like the widow in the Temple, who gave everything she had -- and became a symbol of faith immortalized by Christ in the Scriptures because of her silent witness.

Many Parts, One Body

What do these "layers" have to do with headcoverings? As I talked with other women (both Catholic and Protestants) about their attitudes toward this practice, I found that there was often an interesting correlation between what motivated a woman to cover (or not) and her attitude toward the Church in general and her own faith community in particular.

The "mystics," for example, were generally most appreciative of the spiritual insights I gleaned from the headcovering experiment. At least one I know of -- a third-order Carmelite -- decided to start covering herself after reading my article.

The "structured/apologists" who covered their hair spoke most frequently about upholding Tradition, or belonging to a community in which all the other women did so.

The third group, which represented the vast majority of the faithful Catholic women with whom I spoke, seemed to consider headcoverings a spiritual "non-issue," except for the most pragmatic reasons (such as witnessing to a Muslim or a desire to please her husband).

The other thing that struck me about the experience as I contemplated these groups was the way their faith expressions complemented each other when they supported each other (such as in headcovering discussion groups, or sisters in my own faith community who did not choose to cover their heads but supported me in my own faith journey) -- and how discordant those voices became when one group came to regard another as being less "authentic" or "faithful."

Perhaps more than any other single experience since I joined the Church, the issue of headcovering crystalized for me the reality of the Apostle Paul's teaching in 1 Cor 12 (18-24):

But as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single organ, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body which seem to be weaker are indispensable, and those parts of the body which we think less honorable we invest with the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require.

In the Body of Christ, all three groups -- prayerful mystics, traditional apologists, and relational workers -- are needed to sustain life and health, both in the physical world and the spiritual world: Without the life-giving vitality of the mystical "core," bare bones grow lifeless and cold. Without the structure and protection of the skeleton, vital organs are susceptible to the harsh realities of the elements, and suffer damage and even loss of function. Without a fleshy exterior, the vital organs and skeleton repel rather than attract; it is this outer layer faces the world, that communicates the warmth and life and vitality of its inner workings.

Finally, my haircovering experiment taught me an important lesson about myself: That just as spiritual truth is best expressed by the whole Church, rather than a single voice, so it is acquired over the course of a lifetime rather than grasped in a single moment of revelation. In any given moment, God has certain insights, certain spiritual truths He wants us to receive. When I covered my hair, God in His great mercy and wisdom spoke to my heart about my feminine gifts and place within the Body of Christ. When I stopped, I quickly discovered He had other lessons in store.

Pope John Paul the Great: We Remember...

2006-04-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

It was just a year ago that our beloved John Paul the Great (I said it, so there!) crossed the earthly finish line and bounded toward the gates of heaven.

A year later, it still hurts a little.

My kids never got to meet the Holy Father, but if you show them his picture, they will tell you without hesitation that he is "The Holy Father in heaven." One of the most challenging aspects of parenting, I've found, is knowing when to jump on a particular teachable moment.

The only true "Father in Heaven," of course, is the first Person of the Blessed Trinity, Who is God alone. As he stands before the Almighty (assuming that he is in fact in heaven, which I personally believe is the case but leave it to greater minds than mine to pronounce it absolutely), Karol Wojtyla is no more "Father," but beloved son. Also, he is no holier than the myriad of souls who surround him: Clad in the light of heaven, where is no trace of earthly soil, his spotless garments have been washed in the Blood of the Lamb, and ironed in the fires of purgatory (both those of his earthly life and those that comprised his final steps toward heaven).

And yet, in another sense, John Paul II is every bit as much the father -- even more so, in fact -- as he was here on earth. He is praying for us. And he is watching over us, knowing that he did his very best to show us the path to God.

I recently read an article on Catholic Exchange in which the writer (who by all accounts is a knowledgeble Catholic) criticized those who in his estimation were premature in their proclamation of "John Paul the Great" or "St. John Paul II." The second title, I'll grant, is premature -- only the Church can declare someone a saint.

But who is better able to assess the greatness of a man or his message: those who knew him personally, or those rendered "objective" by the inevitable distance of the passing years?

We consider the apostles (who knew Him personally) the most authoritative representatives of the Lord, the ones best able to communicate His message and His life with accuracy. Why should the life and words of His representative on earth be assessed any differently?

It is one thing to judge the goings-on in heaven, which we cannot see. It is quite another matter to acknowledge what we have seen with our own eyes and touched with our own hands: In the man of John Paul II, we were touched for a time with true greatness.

Church Girl Runs Home

2006-04-18T15:53:00.001-07:00

As a young girl, I was taught that there are certain places good Christian girls do not belong: sitting with a boyfriend in the backseat of a Firebird, frequenting movie theaters or karaoke bars, or venturing within fifty miles of Hollywood or Las Vegas, cities so inherently sinful that God must one day destroy them in a torrent of hellfire, or dig up both Sodom and Gomorrah to apologize.

Yet there I was, well within the L.A. “strike zone,” wandering the streets and wondering just how I had gone so far off track. I had spent most of my life in one Christian church or another – playing the piano or teaching a Sunday school class. During Bible school, I had even taught at a Christian academy in Dakar, Senegal. A few years later, I spent a summer leading a Christian outreach team in southern Poland. Yet somehow along the way, I lost my faith.

I’ll never forget those awful months when I realized what had happened. My prayers bounced off the ceiling. My family was thousands of miles away. My college friends had moved out of the area, and the small church I had attended was in a state of upheaval: the pastor had resigned because he sensed God was leading him to, of all things, become Catholic. Later, over lunch, I couldn’t help but notice that, for a man who had just lost his livelihood and the support of his friends and family, he seemed awfully upbeat.

I, on the other hand, was a mess. The outreach had ended badly, the team split between the charismatic Poles and the conservative Americans. We had spent the last two weeks of the tour in eastern Germany, living out of our bus because the organizer had not arranged accommodation for us. I could not understand why God had led us there, only to be stranded in the middle of the German countryside. My questions deepened when I returned home to find that my father had suffered a collapse.

Going to church was the worst. After my experience in the previous church, I switched to a non-denominational “megachurch,” hoping to find a sense of peace in the beautiful music and the eloquent sermons. Instead I felt like a child with my nose pressed up against the glass of a candy store, hungry but unable to reach what I wanted most. God, where are You? All my life I have tried to love and serve you. Your Word promises that You will never leave me. So why do I feel so alone?

In the early morning hours, I would get up and put on my headset, and stroll the neighborhood past the old mission-style church on the corner. One morning I listened to a tape my pastor friend had given me on the Eucharist. “When God came, He did not send a book. He did not send another prophet. He came Himself. God with us, in the person of His Son. ‘Take this… This is my body broken for you… Unless you eat my body and drink my blood, you have no life within you….”

No life within you… That, I understood at the very core of my being. “Lord, I need your life in me. Show me how to find it.” As that thought went through my head, I found myself on the steps of that old church. A strange fear gripped me; surely God would not be there, in such a “dead” and solemn place. I needed the joy of the Lord, not more rules and regulations…

For a week I walked past that church, arguing with myself about the futility of darkening the doors of yet another church. I told myself that I just needed to pray more, read more, spend more time alone with God. And yet, something drew me unmistakably toward that place, and I finally went inside.

Unlike the church I normally attended, this one was dark and quiet, with soft strains of organ music in the background. At the front was an ornate altar, with a large golden box off to one side, where someone had once told me the Eucharist was kept between services. Torn between wanting to get a closer look and not wanting to draw attention to myself, I slipped into one of the back pews.

On the other side of the aisle, a Hispanic laborer knelt in prayer, his stained fingers clasped on the back of the pew. In front of him, a genteel elderly matron fingered her rosary, her mouth moving soundlessly. As the pews began to fill up, I marveled at the cross-section of humanity represented here . . . the very old and very young, rich and poor, cultured and rough, devout and indifferent.

A woman a few years older than me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if she could sit with me; she showed me how to use the missal, and during the service explained in low tones what was going to happen.

As I listened to the Scripture readings, I began to relax. The familiar story of Jesus welcoming the children made me smile. In that moment, I was feeling very much like a child. I did not know the prayers everyone else recited by heart. I had to watch carefully to be sure I didn’t sit or stand at the wrong time. And when the others went forward to receive the Eucharist, I held back, unsure of whether it was OK to go.

“Go on,” the woman coaxed me. “Just cross your arms like this, and the priest will bless you.” So I got up and walked toward him, as he held a little round wafer aloft for a moment before giving it to each person in line. “The Body of Christ,” he intoned. “The Body of Christ.” He smiled at me reassuringly as I clutched my hands in front of me, then he traced the sign of the cross on my forehead. It was the first time anyone had ever done that to me, and I remember feeling lighter inside as I returned to my seat.

Over the next few weeks I went back several times, and finally (not realizing it was inappropriate for me to do so) I went up and received Eucharist. At that moment, two thoughts came to me: First, I needed to talk with someone about what was happening to me. Second, my sense of isolation was gone, wrapped in the ancient embrace of something much bigger and more permanent than myself.

It was the difference between a teenage crush and a marriage: With puppy love, the pair wants to be only with each other, just as for many years I went through life supposing “Jesus and me” was enough. Marriage is very different: through this sacrament, a couple is given a context of love – sharing generations of their families, their friends, and (in time) their own children. In the same way, I discovered a deposit of faith safeguarded since the time of the apostles through the writings of the Church Fathers and other holy men and women who knew God as intimately as I wanted to.

While I had known God all my life, the conversion process was more painful for me than it is for some. For years I had labored under the delusion that I was the final authority on truth, if only for myself. In reality, my faith was rather superficial and highly subjective, based on what I believed the Scriptures said, what I felt God was saying to me. If I didn’t agree with the pastor or teacher, I simply found another church.

Now God was showing me plainly that this was not the way of transformation. Those weeks of isolation and depression revealed the truth: I am really just a child in desperate need of healing, and I must trust the Great Physician even when I do not understand what He is doing to me.
This sense of inner transformation, or conversion, caught me by surprise. I had believed in Jesus and gone to church all my life. And yet, God had to take me outside my comfort zone so I could hear Him clearly. I was a little surprised to experience God’s presence so powerfully in the stillness of an ancient liturgy. But then I remembered the story of Elijah (1 Kings 19), when the prophet encountered the Almighty. He was not in the great wind, or in the earthquake or fire that followed, but in the still, small voice after the tumult.

In my frenetic religious activity, I became too “busy” to become quiet and listen for the beloved voice of my Father. It wasn’t until I became like a kid again that I rediscovered it, not in the rush – but in the silence.

Heidi Hess Saxton is a freelance writer and editor. She and her husband Craig are adoptive parents of two children.

2005-09-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

Canticle of New Orleans

By Margaret Charles Kerry, fsp

Waters of the earth, bless your Maker. be kind to the people who need you to quench their thirst. Hold back your raging destruction of flood and overflowing banks. Be kind to the city that sings about you in legend, that travels over you to unknown places. Unite people - do not disperse them. Waters of the earth, bless the Lord!

Winds of sky, bless your Maker.Keep cool breezes flowing over the people of God. Keep away disease and danger by your healing movement. Hold back your anger in storm and destructive power in tornado. Be kind to the city that knows when you caress the land and keep the heat from overtaking the plants and livestock. Remind people of God's care. Winds of the sky, bless the Lord!

City of humanity, bless your Maker.Keep your people safe who have built you. Allow them to write music, sing, play and dance in praise of God-given life. Keep those in leadership from misusing what is gifted by the unity of men and women, children and family. Be kind to the City that brings happiness to so many. Be kind to her history that tells the human story. May the city be a city on a hill that shines God's light. May your music, dance, and food be a foretaste of the eternal banquet. City of humanity, bless the Lord!

People of God, bless your Maker.Keep hope in your hearts in time of distress. Give hope to those around you and know that you are loved by those who worry about you in your distress. Reach out to those who are near. Reach from afar in times of trouble - reach in prayer if you can't reach physically. Let us ask forgiveness when our response to trouble seems slow and unthoughtful. Open your hearts to those who are vulnerable. People of God, bless the Lord!

People of New Orleans, bless your Maker.Know that you are loved. Know that the rain, wind and water that bless the city and surround it as a hug outside of times like this will return to their banks and sky. Your hope is our hope. May we share what we have with you as you share your faith with us. We reach you in prayer even as we long to reach you with a helping hand and pluck you from distress. We share in your distress and hold in our hearts your pain and sorrow. May God renew you! People of New Orleans, bless the Lord!

[My] parents' house was lost in Hurricane Ivan: "... The large six-foot statue of the Sacred Heart in our house, left to our family by the Sisters of the Good Shepherd in New Orleans, was smashed. But there in the rubble was the heart from that statue. There was the sign of hope that God's love does not abandon us. Their life now centers on people who have suffered more than they have, the people in nursing homes, those who are abandoned and homeless, those without hope. And this faith that has been passed on to me was nourished by the people of New Orleans. The heart that is now enshrined in my parents' temporary home is a sign that 'Deep waters cannot quench love' (Sg 8:7). This is the heart that now beats inside of all of us for those who are suffering from Hurricane Katrina."

Margaret Charles Kerry, FSP, is a native of New Orleans and a Daughter of St. Paul. She can be reached at Kerrysso@aol.com. Website: www.pauline.org; BLOG: www.transformingtheworld.blogspot.com. Copyright © 2005, Daughters of St. Paul. Reprinted with permission. Permission is granted for the free reproduction of the Canticle of New Orleans in newspapers, magazines, bulletins, websites, or in photocopied format, provided that the entire Canticle and the author byline and credit is printed with the Canticle.

Tea with the Girls: Advent of Spiritual Friendship

2005-08-22T10:23:00.000-07:00

On the second Saturday before Christmas, the preparations begin. My “Old Country Roses” china tea service comes down to be gently washed and dried; the linen tablecloth I inherited from my grandmother is shaken out and pressed. Ingredients for the special Advent cake are assembled into pure chocolate decadence. My children watch with eagerness, for they know what is coming: Tomorrow is “Funday with Dad!”

The next day, my family makes themselves scarce as I set the table and, at the strike of two, light the Advent wreath. The doorbell rings, and my heart skips a beat: decade-old friendships are about to renew themselves. The five of us seldom gather more than twice a year (we celebrate birthdays together each summer over Tex-Mex); however, these gatherings are a priority. Praying, talking, eating, laughing… as the chapters of our lives turn from one page to the next, we have supported one another in good times and bad, and especially in times of waiting.

Katy is first; this year she brings fruit salad. The tenth of thirteen siblings, she is the anchor of our group, the one who always shows up for any crisis to tend to practical needs – painting a nursery, tending a sick person, and remembering an anniversary. This year she and her husband have another exchange student, a boy from Germany.

Denise is next, bearing her signature baklava. Many single women would hesitate to take on her financial and emotional commitments: She has adopted a girl from Ukraine and a boy from Kazakhstan. Though she has never been pregnant, she knows the joyful, anxious waiting that accompanies a familial addition. I admire her courage, and her determination not to put her life on hold until she finds a spouse.

Lilian, a nutritionist, arrives with a savory salsa dip and pictures of the son she and her husband adopted from Guatemala. This year there are also photos the girl they will soon retrieve from another Guatemalan foster home.

Patty’s specialty is muffins. “How can I pray for you guys?” she wants to know. A veteran auntie and accomplished flautist, Patty recently moved into a new home with her little dog, Buddy. Her solitude is a mixed blessing; the burdens she carries are real, but so is her faith. Hers is a life invested in other people.

This year we celebrate because my waiting is over. After three long years, the adoption for our foster children has been finalized, and we have the piece of paper that affirms what we have always known: We are truly a family. I pass around pictures from the baptism and talk about my studies at the seminary, which have slowed considerably since the children arrived. But that’s OK, too… as someone once told me, “Anticipation is often the greater part of pleasure.”

The Gift of Waiting

The last crumb disappears, the last drop empties from the teapot, and my friends depart for another year. Favorite teacup in hand, I settle myself to await my family’s return and think about what a blessing I have in the friendships of these four women.

In a sense, a woman’s life is about waiting: In childhood, we wait impatiently to be “all grown up,” to have a measure of freedom from parental constraints. In young adulthood, we wait for the phone to ring… for exam results… for the time we will be truly on our own. Later, we wait for first love, first homes, first children… it never ends. In the name of “liberation” we may strike out on our own and grab what we want by any means necessary. However, the results seldom satisfy, any more than a Christmas gift inspected on the sly increases our enjoyment of it when at last it is opened: The waiting is part of the gift.

When the Waiting Hurts

At times the waiting is anxious, even painful. About a year ago we hit a snag in our adoption process: Relatives of the birth parents expressed interest in adopting our children, who had been with us two years, since the baby was six months old. Outwardly I tried to remain calm; inside I was in turmoil. We were at the mercy of the state, without recourse if they decided to take these precious children from us.

The wait became even more intolerable when my sister-in-law – the only member of my husband’s family who was consistently kind and supportive of our decision to be foster parents – announced her decision to move to Arizona. The closest members of my own family live hundreds of miles away; I had never felt more alone.

Barbara’s impending departure caused something to snap inside me. For about a week my husband watched helplessly as I paced the floor day and night, bursting into tears for no apparent reason. Finally, I sat down at my computer and typed a note to “the Girls,” confessing that while I did not feel up to seeing them, I wanted them to know what I was going through.

Less than a day passed before each of them found a way to remind me of their love and prayers. One of them bravely ignored my “no visitors” directive, and came – not to rescue me, but to wait with me. Later, my sister called and convinced me to go and see my doctor: She recognized the depression symptoms, and knew what it would take to get back on track. Within a few weeks, my mood lifted.

Later, I worked up nerve to ask my mother if she had ever felt as overwhelmed with life as I was feeling just then. “Oh, when I get down I just sing hymns until I feel better,” she shrugged. Having lived with her for the first eighteen years of my life, this facile response was dissatisfying. Although maintaining our spiritual connection with God is important, I had learned that stubborn isolation and manufactured cheer does more harm than good. Like Peter sinking in the water, each of us needs a hand up at times.

In times of adversity, women are in some ways stronger than men. God gives us inner strength to wait not with passive resignation but with confidence in his goodness. He gives us intuition that helps us to nurture those who need our care, body and soul. God enables us to sense him at work even in the darkness, and gives us the ability to persevere and to intercede even when a task is thankless or an intention seems hopeless.

However, my encounter with depression taught me that there are times when these hidden, womanly spiritual gifts are meant to operate not in solitude, but within the context of community. “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ,” St. Paul tells us (Galatians 6:2).

When Waiting Heals

My little circle of friends supports one another in our struggles: the oppression of abortion or devastation of miscarriage, the shame of childhood abuse, the dissolution of a relationship, the death of a family member, the struggles of married life. When a need surfaces, we instinctively draw a circle of love around it, tending not just to the symptoms but to the whole person.

First we tend to bodily needs: the jar of soup at the door, a painted nursery, an hour of babysitting so Mom can nap, or sheer presence when it is needed most – be it a wedding or a wake.
Next we support her soul – intellect and will, memories and emotions: a helpful book, a listening ear, a practical suggestion for an unresolved dilemma, conversation that moves from the trivial to the issues closest to the heart.
Finally, we care for her spirit: a commitment to pray for specific intentions, and to ask the hard questions when her life veers off-course. As single women, we would find each other at Mass, increasing our sense of solidarity as together we drew close to the heart of God through the sacraments. Another time, a friend’s courageous question drove me to a confessional prior as I prepared to marry. Because of her, I received the best wedding gift of all: healing from the past, and a clear slate for the future.

A Gift of Spiritual Friendship

“O Come, O Come Emmanuel…” In a few weeks we will celebrate this most precious of all gifts: God as one of us. Through Mary’s faith-filled assent, the eternal Word of God fulfilled centuries of promise, coming to reconcile all of humankind with our Creator.

This Advent season of joyful expectation, do you find yourself waiting physically or emotionally alone? Are you struggling to find peace, or healing from an old wound? Are you getting so caught up in the needs and wants of others that you neglect your own? Remember the Blessed Virgin who, upon hearing of the task entrusted to her, did the most natural thing in the world… She set off to share her news with a kindred spirit who would listen with faith and understanding. In good news and bad, we all need this kind of spiritual friendship.

What can you do this Advent season to renew – or even initiate – one of your own?

Looking for love?

2005-07-28T03:20:00.000-07:00

Day two of my car's transmission overhaul. With Craig in Florida this week, I really can't afford to be without wheels. So I walked into my local Hertz and made the necessary arrangements. The salesguy was handsome, in a pretty sort of way, and as he loaded my carseats into the back of my new "freedom wagon" he commented that he didn't have kids yet.

"Oh, my husband and I didn't get our kids until I was thirty-five -- and HE was forty-five. We love them to death. Having said that, there is a REASON God gives babies to twenty-somethings. If you can, start early."

He smiled. "I'm thirty. I'll tell you, I would, but I have the worst luck with women. Just when I think I've found her, I found out she's been keeping something from me." His eyes told a different story: They were cold and hungry -- not the kind that is drawn to warmth and sustenance, the kind that drives it away. Maybe it was too many years in sales. Maybe it was naked ambition. Maybe it was my imagination. I don't know.

I took a chance. "You know, my husband didn't find me until he was forty-five, and he tells me that it was because he wasn't ready for me until then. He hadn't figured out how to be a good partner -- which is an important part of finding the right one. He read this book by Harville Hendrix, Keeping the Love You Find."

He paused. "Yeah, maybe I need to read a book... Something needs to change."

Today when I go back, I think I'll bring him a little something from my "relationship library." In a world where so many relationships fail, helping the stumblers (one blind person to another) is good for the world, don't you think?

Thought for the Day... Shocking!

2005-07-01T10:18:00.000-07:00

“Let us look at our own shortcomings and leave other people’s alone, for those who live carefully ordered lives are apt to be shocked at everything, and we might well learn very important lessons from the persons who shock us.” Teresa of Avila

Santo Subito?

2005-06-19T18:46:00.000-07:00

Today I was perusing the CatholicExchange website, and came across a bracelet that is being marketed as a popular vote for canonization of St. John Paul the Great. Granted, the sky-blue plastic is not exactly the most elegant memorial one could wish for, but it has a curious aptness that I think the Holy Father would have appreciated.

Santo Subito is the song of every person living out the faith with as much fidelity as humanity permits. Sainthood now. Hidden in the dirty dishes and diapers, the 1040s and mountain of unpaid bills, are countless daily opportunities to practice the virtues associated with the saints.

* Short on faith? I remember the year we had an exchange student whose parents were supposed to visit at Eastertime, and my sister wound up back in the hospital for an operation that sucked my parents' bank account drier than last week's soup bone. "Don't tell the people at church," my father warned. "They've already done enough." And we didn't. And so we never could explain why that Sunday afternoon, coming home from church, we found ten large boxes of groceries, crowned with a three-layer chocolate cake, sitting on our front porch. Thanks to the "Chocolate Cake Angel," we didn't have to send our guests away hungry, after all.

* Hope a little dim? Last week my sister was telling me about a particularly horrific time in her life. Her husband was beating her, and threatening to kill her and her daughter, and yet her church friends and family members strongly discouraged her from divorcing the idiot. Lost and losing faith fast, my sister was amazed to get a phone call, out of the blue, from the wife of our childhood pastor, whom she had not heard from in years. "You have your Bible, Kate, and you know how to hear from God," the wise words were balm to her wounded heart. "Do what is right, what you need to do to be safe." And she did.

* Finding it hard to love? Someone close to me has a relative who has been the bane of her existence since the day she married. For a time, her situation improved when a medical scare caused the thorn to regain some of his humanity. Then, like most people in a tough situation, once the scare was over he resumed his old tricks. That taught her something important: Sometimes love comes in an irregular package, one that prickles and jabs. The trick is letting love radiate rather than rub off. Works just as well, and no one gets hurt.

So, just for today, I will take those baby steps of goodness, those bite-sized chunks of virtue, and ruminate upon them. No one would ever mistake me for a saint in my present state. My husband and children are far more long-suffering than I will ever be. But I will practice santo subito, and trust that my brother is using his exalted state to pull a few more saints-in-the-making just a little closer to their heavenly reward.

Should I Cover My Hair? One Woman's Reflection

2005-06-17T19:17:00.000-07:00

Kimberly exuded gentle feminine grace even in her most rambunctious moments. Raised in a quiet Mennonite community, she was one of only two women on campus who wore a “prayer covering” over her chestnut mane. And yet, she was not the least bit self-conscious about it, even while performing on the student worship team.

I admired Kimberly’s innate ability to draw people to her, make people love her. Shortly after graduation, she married a classmate and they prepared for their first term of mission service in China. She had utter confidence in her God and her young husband. Most missionary couples had one or two children. In the last Christmas letter I received from Kimberly, they had four and were expecting their fifth.

Then about a year ago, I heard that Kimberly and her parents were killed in a car accident in China. My friend’s death caused me to contemplate my own faith and vocation. In her short lifetime, Kimberly had dedicated her life to serving the Lord, and faithfully lived out that call. I knew there was more to her faith than the fact that she covered her hair in church; nevertheless, I began to think about how that action characterized her life and faith, and wonder whether I should follow her example.

Covered Grace

The question of head coverings is not often brought up in Christian circles anymore. St. Paul’s
admonition in 1 Corinthians 11:4-12 is generally interpreted as a cultural bias rather than a spiritual principle – even by those who take great pains to interpret nearly every other passage of Scripture as literally as possible. The alternative, it is supposed, is to relegate half the human population to second-class citizenry in the kingdom of heaven, fit for nothing but dishing up Jell-O salads and washing dishes at church suppers.

Still, I felt the Lord asking me to take this step of faith, and cover my own hair when I went to church. At first I felt self-conscious, as few other women in my church wore hats. But God richly blessed my feeble step of faith. As I continued to study the words and actions of Jesus and the Apostle Paul, a light dawned: The “hiddenness” of the covering is an expression not of weakness or inferiority, but of a woman’s true strength and God-given purpose: to be a true partner in the redemption of the world.

Human Face of the Divine

The humble obedience of the Virgin Mary brought about the greatest of all Christian mysteries: Through the Incarnation, for the first time in human history, we could truly see and touch the Divine. Mary’s genes determined the shape of His eyes, the curve of His jaw, the wave of His hair. Hers were the hands that held His own, leading Him out into the world to explore and learn long before the world would discover Him.

Just as Mary’s miracle started with a simple act of obedience, my own adventure in “covering” bore fruit almost immediately after I decided to take God at His Word. I became more conscious of my appearance, pulling on hose and a touch of lipstick instead of running for the car in whatever I had grabbed that morning. What is the point of looking like a woman from the eyebrows up, if I let the rest of myself go? My insides began to change, too: It was impossible to yell at my kids for dawdling or reprimand my husband for wearing the “wrong” shoes to church, I discovered, while wearing my covering. The lightweight cotton made me keenly aware of angels’ eyes upon me.

Time and again in the Gospels, it is the women who recognize divine life in the man Jesus. With a word from His mother, Jesus launched His public ministry (see John 2:1-7). The radiant countenance of the Samaritan woman at the well, along with her public affirmation of faith, compelled the crowds to see for themselves the Savior of the World (see John 4:42). In the Gospel of John, the tears of the Magdalene prompt the Risen Christ to reveal Himself to her before His other followers (see John 20:15-16).

Similarly, within the Church, the humility of the covering sometimes induces others to contemplate unseen mysteries. St. Paul wrote: “…any woman who prays or prophesies with her head unveiled, dishonors her head…” (1 Corinthians 11:5). There is no question that she may pray or prophesy – that is understood to be the task of every believer. And yet, by drawing attention away from her natural “glory,” she causes men and angels alike to avoid temptation. And by imitating Our Lady in drawing attention away from ourselves, becoming “other Marys” – altera Maria – we encourage our brothers to be more fully alter Christus each time we approach to receive the Eucharist.

This presentation, of course, extends to every aspect of life. We reveal the God of love when we extend ourselves with spiritual and corporal acts of mercy. We encourage children to trust our holy God by carefully instructing them both in words and example to follow Him in obedience. In a very real sense, as the “Body of Christ” we continue to reveal the hands and heart of God moment by moment, one person at a time.

Intuitive Seeker of Wisdom

Because of her uniquely feminine nature, woman instinctively understands how to transcend mere rationality to embrace deeper underlying truth. As wife and mother, she relies on her intuitive and relational powers to care for her family. As daughter of God, she sometimes perceives spiritual realities that are not always immediately apparent to her brothers. This intuitive power, combined with her instinct to place intellectual knowledge within the context of relationship, is the path to Wisdom. This may account, at least in part, for the reason the “wisdom literature” of the Old Testament presents Sophia (Wisdom) as a woman.

Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well in John’s Gospel is a compelling example of this. She notices social peculiarities: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (John 4:9). She engages Him with humor: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water!” (4:15). She is not put off by his bold exposure of her shortcomings, but seeks to “connect” the truth she is hearing with what she had always held to be true, until she is able to take the leap of faith and recognize her Messiah.

Another moving example is found in the eleventh chapter of John, at the death of Lazarus. While Mary sat at home, receiving visitors, Martha rushed ahead, struggling to reconcile the death of her brother with the love of the Master. Didn’t He know they needed Him? Didn’t He care? Her quiet words are both a statement of faith and a gentle reproach: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).

“Your brother will rise again…”

“I know. He will rise on the last day.” But we want him with us now. Can’t you see that? Don’t you understand how much we love him, need him?

Jesus squares His shoulders, lifts His voice. “I am the resurrection and the life… whoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

Somehow, through the fog of grief and pain, Martha sees the light of revelation. “Yes, Lord. I believe you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who is coming into the world” (John 11:27). Only Peter would speak the words as plainly, his declaration prompted not by “flesh and blood,” but through the Father (see Matthew 16:17).

The covering reminds the wearer of the hidden, highly intuitive path that leads us from knowledge to true wisdom. This is not to say woman is incapable of rational thought – clearly this would be an untruth. Nor is it true that all men are devoid of intuitive gifts. However, woman’s characteristic ability to “enliven” sheer rationality through her intuitive and relational gifts – and his ability to channel those gifts constructively with his gifts of systematic reason – is an exquisite example of the gender complementarity of God’s original design.

Selfless, Unseen Worker of Virtue

I was thirty-five years old when I met and married my husband Craig. Thanks to my music training, from the age of twelve I was active in a variety of churches. And so it is perhaps not surprising when I began to equate fidelity to God with visibility of service. There was always one more piano to play, one more choir to direct, one more Bible study to lead, one more event to plan. As a Catholic woman, I came to realize that God was far more concerned about the state of my heart, the things I said and did when no one else was watching.

The women Christ most admired in the Gospels were those who lived lives of courageous virtue that went all but unnoticed – or drew negative attention. He commended the courage of the widow who gave two copper coins to the Temple treasury (see Luke 21:2ff; Mark 12:42). He responded to the faith of the Canaanite woman, who trusted Him to make her tormented daughter though they were not of the “house of Israel” (Matthew 14:24). And he immortalized the love of the sinful woman who poured out her devotion, exposing herself to public ridicule (Luke 7:37ff).

The virtue of hidden service is not unique to women – indeed, Jesus proclaimed that to be first in God’s kingdom is to be “last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35). Similarly, He urged discretion in acts of charity, such that “when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing” (Matthew 6:3), and “When you hold a lunch or dinner… invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you” (Luke 14:12-14). The hidden life of women is particularly suited to such powerful testimony in this life, and spiritual greatness in the next.

A Hidden Freedom

It is possible, therefore, to see Paul’s admonition on head coverings to be highly compatible with the liberating message of the gospel. The most vital organs of the human body are covered with layers of bone and muscle and tissue, to protect the delicate functions for which the organs were designed. Similarly, women who choose to cover their heads – whether out of simple obedience, respect for their husbands, or as an expression of their feminine gifts – can regard their action as liberating, rather than degrading. It is a badge of honor, a symbol of joyful surrender, to all the gifts God wants us to have and use as women.

“It is not good for man to be alone,” we read in the Creation account. Biology alone does not account for this necessity of complementarity. Jesus – and Paul after Him – acknowledged the singular contributions of women by including them in His ministry, despite cultural taboos and prohibitions. Their actions and words may be lost to us in many cases – but they are not lost to the Father, who has promised to reward those who give and pray “in secret” (see Matthew 6:1-6).

Forever Family: Letter to my Adopted Children

2005-05-02T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today "Mommy Monster" has hit her "wah... zone," feeling kinda mellow. And so, to celebrate the moment, here is a little poem I wrote to go with our adoption party invitations:

When God makes parents
He places a special hole in their hearts.
One place for each child He wants to send.

Sometimes that child grows out of love,
safe and warm under his mother’s heart
until he is ready to meet the world.

But sometimes God sees two people
With holey hearts and empty arms,
And says, “Hey! Let’s make a family!”

So the angels spread out, searching high and low,
and east and west, for just the right children.
Then tenderly, carefully they guide them home.

These children have two real mothers:
One carried them in her body, one carries them in her heart.
They have two real fathers, too: one gave them life,
And one teaches them how to live.

Christopher and Sarah,
Since the day your angels led you to us,
We have waited and waited to call you our own.
Now that our arms are full, our hearts are, too.

Thank you, God, for our “forever family.”

Papa Bear!

2005-04-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

Today, April 19, for the third time in 100 years, the new pope was elected just two days after the conclave: Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI. I heard one radio commentator explain the bear on the new pope's coat of arms: The new Holy Father likens himself to a legendary bear that, upon attacking the horse of the pope, was forced to carry the load to Rome on his furry back. This pope, who has already proven himself to be a fierce defender of Catholic dogma, may indeed lack the personal warmth of his predecessor -- and yet, he is no less a son of Mary. We must pray for him, that he will hear clearly all that the Spirit wants to do and say in the Church of the present day.

This pope took his name because of his great devotion to St. Benedict. And so it seems fitting to quote another German "Benedict," Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, who in a poem entitled “I am always in your midst” (speaking for Saint Angela Merici), says:

You’ve recognized it: that is what God likes—
Patient waiting till the hour comes
That he determines; in the dark to wander
As the Spirit’s quiet movement leads us,
And unseen by human eyes,
To gather the flowers that bloom along the path.
The little buds daily given us at the hand of the Mother
Of the Son of God—
He takes them to his heart: there they bloom
And never wither; their fragrance
Spreads sweet and strong, with wondrous healing power,
Over all the world, closing wounds
That people’s “mighty deeds” produce in it.

Just as St. Scholastica, the twin of St. Benedict, loved and supported her dear brother throughout his lifetime, may we “little buds” of the Spirit continue to love and support our brother, Pope Benedict XVI. May Our Lady gather us close and take our prayers to the heart of Jesus.

Under the Mercy,
Heidi

Real Catholics (Don't Always) Genuflect

2005-04-06T06:22:00.000-07:00

In 1988 contemporary recording artist John Fischer launched his bestseller Real Christians (Don’t) Dance, the unabashed manifesto of those who refuse to put form ahead of substance, and charity above all.

After ten years spent in various Catholic parishes and groups, I’ve discovered that much of what Fischer says about Evangelical Protestants applies equally as well to Catholics: There are Pharisees on both sides of the great ecclesial divide, who (as Jesus observed) are excruciatingly attentive to detail… yet never think to welcome the stranger in the next pew. “Woe to you Pharisees!…For you load men with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers” (Luke 12:42-46).

In the great dance of the liturgy, for every hundred Catholics just trying to get their families through the hour without resorting to violence, one or two scribble notes for their weekly “watchdog” letter to the bishop: So-and-so botched a line of the Creed. Thus-and-such hymn, clearly labeled “Christmas,” was used during Advent. Worst of all, the priest continues to lead his flock in holding hands during the “Our Father.” (They, of course, observe “proper form”: pointedly ignoring any outstretched hand and scowling at anyone who tries to touch them before the “sign of peace.”)

Some time ago I overheard a popular apologist sneeringly denounce anyone who thinks evangelization involves “being nice to people.” In his mind, it seems, the true evangelist is one who has the last word, wins the most points in a doctrinal verbal sparring match, or “goes in for the kill” against his (usually Protestant) opponent. Isn’t that what Jesus said,

“Thus will all men know you are my disciples… If you can wrestle an estranged brother to the ground, hog-tie him, and drag him into the Church…”

No, I guess not.

Ironically, as I made my way to the fullness of the faith, it was not professional apologists or “serious” Catholics who gave me the warmest welcome (though they did produce the bulk of tapes and books that provided my initial faith formation). No, my “family of faith” album includes:

A chain-smoking, martini-swilling mother of one high-school friend, who could never articulate her faith to my satisfaction. However, when a car accident put me in the hospital me for over a month, she figured out how to give me a bed bath and wash my hair. “I know what it feels like not to be able to touch my toes,” she told me. “Love one another, Jesus said – isn’t that what it’s all about?”

A college friend, whom I met at a frat party just before I flunked out of engineering school. Three years later, when I went on a mission trip to Senegal, she was one of my most faithful supporters. (Initially my conscience prickled over accepting money from someone who “still needed to be saved,” but pragmatism won out.) Janice continued to correspond with me, and showed admirable grace when I confessed that I had once considered her an “unbeliever.”

A young man who treated me with greater respect and courtesy than any of my previous “real Christian” beaus. When he proposed marriage, I refused him; I didn’t want to be “unequally yoked” with a Catholic.

My second RCIA sponsor (the first one quit because I asked too many questions) is an enthusiastic advocate for women’s ordination. We have spirited discussions about points of Church teaching (with me taking the “conservative” position). However, I will always owe her a special debt of gratitude: At the time I most needed someone to walk with me, she welcomed me into her family.

In a visit to Mexico in 1999, the Holy Father proclaimed the nature of the “new evangelization” to which all Catholics are called, a task requiring not only a clear head, but a compassionate heart:

The new evangelization will be a seed of hope for the new millennium if you, today's Catholics, make the effort to transmit to future generations the precious legacy of human and Christian values which have given meaning to your life…. It is your role to ensure that the new generations receive a sound Christian formation during their intellectual and cultural training, to prevent the powerful progress from closing them to the transcendent. Lastly, always present yourselves as tireless promoters of dialogue and peace in the face of the predominance of might over right, and of indifference to the tragedies of hunger and disease afflicting large numbers of the population.

And so, I’d like to offer a few observations, for whatever they are worth, about the “Real Catholics” I’ve come to know and love.

Real Catholics may not know where a particular verse is found… but they know where to find the Body and Blood of the Lord, to strengthen and sustain them.

Real Catholics may not know how to pray a Rosary unaided… but they can be counted upon to bring over a meal to a bedridden neighbor.

Real Catholics may resort to Cheerios and sippy cups for their toddlers at Mass… but their prayers for patience are indisputably sincere.

Real Catholics may not win every Thanksgiving Day debate with their zealous brother-in-law… but are confident that the answers are there for the finding.
Real Catholics occasionally grumble when Mass gets a bit long, and occasionally miss the first reading… but they know that, no matter how crazy life gets, that hour gives them what they need to get through the rest of the week.
Real Catholics don’t always remember to genuflect toward the tabernacle when they enter the church… but they live each day humbly trying to embody the gospel message for those who will never read the Book.

Lord, give me patience with the snippy, compassion toward the needy, and charity toward all. In my journey toward the heavenly Kingdom, let me never forget how far You had to go to get me on the right path. Amen.

I Remember Papa: Reflection on Pope John Paul II

2005-04-02T18:45:00.000-08:00

April 2, 2005

It was just today, on the eve of Mercy Sunday, that he breathed his last and found himself at the Gates of Heaven. No doubt Saint Faustina was there to welcome him, along with his other good friend, Blessed Mother Teresa. His father and mother, brother and sister… All were present to greet their Karol as he broke the bonds of earth, running just ahead of the rest of his earthly family, having accomplished the work his Master had asked him to do.

“Holy Father.” Never has the appellation been quite so apt. One glance into those startling blue eyes, and you could see heaven itself. He spoke eight languages, penned fourteen encyclicals and countless letters, and visited almost 130 countries over the course of his twenty-six year pontificate. And yet he always had time to hug a child, write a letter, or extend a dinner invitation. When my husband and I honeymooned in Rome, we were first in line to be presented to Pope John Paul II and receive his apostolic blessing on our marriage. There were eleven other couples behind us, and yet he fixed his full attention on us, his hand extended not in cold ritual, but in fatherly welcome.

He was a man of great passion and intelligence. No other pope was so prolific, or so generous in extending himself for the good of his children. He canonized or beatified more saints than all his predecessors put together, and he was a tireless proponent for human dignity. This is evident even in the way the Holy Father defined the mission of the Church, in which every person – without respect to age, gender, vocation, or nationality – was invited to share in the great work of the New Evangelization.

Without compromising Truth, he extended himself in love to bridge the chasm between Catholics and the rest of the world – Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, and especially other Christians. Time and again, they reciprocated that love and respect.

As a convert to the Catholic faith, I am particularly indebted to Papa John for leading the Church in renewal, so that when I finally got close enough to look inside, I found a faith so vital and relevant, I knew I could never be happy anywhere else.

Like the Prodigal Son, I was welcomed with open arms; unlike him, it was not until I finally wandered home that I realized just how lost I had been.

Time and again, reporters spoke of the “legacy” of Pope John Paul II, asking one person after the other to articulate the Holy Father’s greatest contribution to the Church over the course of his pontificate. In reality, I think this is not the correct question to ask. A shepherd’s work is not about personal ambition. It is about keeping the sheep safe.

Through his writings, his appearances, and especially by his own example, Papa John led the sheep entrusted to him around the pits and brambles of the world in which we live. Though his intellectual capacity and diplomatic prowess were beyond reproach, his true greatness was in his capacity to love.

And so, dear Papa, we entrust you to the angels

with all the rest, like you,

poured out in living sacrifice.

May Our Lady take you by the hand,

and lead you to our Brother,

And may the Son rejoice to hear her speak your name.

May you adore, in beloved company, long anticipated,

and receive your just reward, and dance in jubilation

with the host from every nation,

at the love-fest of the Lamb.

Holy Father, our Papa John,

please pray for us.

Your loving daughter, Heidi

Catholic myopia

2004-12-30T06:00:00.000-08:00

This morning I was thinking about the horrific events in Asia and Africa, and could not help but wonder if as Christians, in our efforts to raise the flag against abortion and gay marriage, we sometimes drop the ball on other aspects of living out our Christian faith.

For example, if we are opposed to gay men and women becoming foster parents, are we prepared to step in to care for the more than six hundred thousand children who are court wards and without a permanent home? If every Catholic family in the United States took one child, or one sibling group -- perhaps in reparation for one of those lives ripped limb from limb -- we could also redeem one more life, whose prospects are otherwise unquestionably dim.

As Christians, and particularly American Catholics, it is not enough to wring our hands at the tragedy in Asia and Africa. As the richest people group in the world, we are morally obligated to respond to the very real needs of our brothers and sisters who are struggling to survive in Asia and Africa. Scripture tells us that each of us will have to give an account for how we used the resources God entrusted to us to help our brothers and sisters who cannot help themselves.

Consider it from this perspective: The Church entrusts those forty-four million innocents to the care of their heavenly Father. The hundred thousand lives lost since Sunday, on the other hand, very likely had no opportunity to avail themselves of the sacraments before they died. Those who live are going through their own personal hell on earth.

The world is watching how we are going to respond. Our faith demands that we do our part. Below is a link for Catholic Relief Services, a group initiated by the US Conference of Catholic Bishops to alleviate suffering in the world -- and right now, particularly in the East. Please respond generously.

Catholic Relief Services: https://www.kintera.org/AutoGen/Simple/Donor.asp?ievent=90705&en=ieIHILPqF4KAITOuH3IALTMvGgLUKSPrGbIGKYOCKjIMLTNrHcJJJUNIF

Here is an article from America magazine on this organization: http://www.americamagazine.org/editorial.cfm?articleTypeID=3&textID=3126&issueID=448

God bless you!

Advent 2004: Day 2

2004-11-29T14:28:00.000-08:00

Today I was awakened by the sensation of a small child poking me with the eye and inquiring in a loud stage whisper: "Mommy, you awake?"
Sadly, I was, after less than three hours of sleep, thanks to my paper writing procrastination skills. At least I got it done.
In lieu of writing said paper, yesterday I made the first batch of fudge of the season. It's my friend Kimberly's recipe, which she taught me to make when we were both at what I affectionately call "the convent." In reality, it was just a REALLY conservative Bible college.
Kimberly was one of those girls that guys would stop mid-sentence to watch her walk down the sidewalk, even in those ankle-length dresses she used to wear in the name of modesty. It is impossible to keep some kinds of beauty under wraps, and Kimberly had that in spades.
Shortly after we graduated from said convent, Kimberly married a nice German guy and they made plans to go to China as missionaries. We kept in touch by e-mail from time to time, then lost touch. I didn't think anything of it until I got a note from a mutual friend, announcing her own nuptials.
"Will Kimberly be there?" I asked, making conversation.
Maria stared at me strangely. "Then... you haven't heard."
Kimberly had been picking her parents up at the Chinese airport when their car piled into the back end of a truck, killing them all instantly. At the time, her husband was in Germany, and it took him almost a week to reach his motherless sons.
By now you're wondering if I remembered the name of this blog. Just where is the mercy in this, anyway?
Today is the second day of Advent, a time of preparation for the coming of the Christ Child. As I make Kimberly's fudge, I remember my friend who is celebrating Christmas in heaven, and I resolve to work a little harder to get ready to go there myself.
A blessed Advent to you and yours.

It Begins with a Trickle...

2004-11-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

Any published author will tell you that writing a bestseller is one thing. Cultivating a mailing list of loyal followers who will actually shell out cold, hard cash for one or more of those little bundles of literary candy, on the other hand... That's the hard part.
So when my most recent book "With Mary in Prayer" (Loyola Press) went OOP (literally) in just over two years, it finally dawned on me that it wasn't enough to wheedle, coax, and beg my nearest and dearest to swarm the nearest B&N for a copy. I needed to catch your attention.
Yes, you. Hello.
So... who am I, and why should you keep reading? Let's see... maybe we have something in common.

* I'm a Catholic convert (joined the Church in 1994, thanks to God and the dedicated staff at Holy Family Parish in South Pasadena, California). Before that, I was alternately Baptist, Lutheran, Assemblies of God, Evangelical, and Nondenominational Protestant. (Oh, yes, and I was baptized Presbyterian.) Right now I'm studying for my MA.Theo. from Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit, Michigan.

* My husband Craig and I are foster parents and soon-to-be adoptive parents of the two most wonderful kids in the world, four-year-old Christopher and two-year-old Sarah.

* I love to travel, and have been to or lived in: Mexico, Canada, Senegal (West Africa), Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, and all over the US of A.

* In my spare time, I like to read, write, ballroom dance, bake bread, sing, and tame "Mommy Monsters" (more about those later).

* I'm an editor and writer (for more on that, go to my website www.christianword.com), and in my spare time work with Johnnette Benkovic (EWTN television and radio personality) to develop her new imprint Simon Peter Press, especially study materials for her new Catholic women's apostolate "Women of Grace."

* The reason for this particular blog is that, through all the many and varied twists and turns that have gotten me this far, I have been the unabashed and unapologetic beneficiary of Mercy... God's Mercy, that is. Even in the darkest moments of my life, and especially when I've least deserved it, I've experienced gushing torrents of divine grace. Some of those moments I've chronicled in another (OOP) book entitled "Touched by Kindness."

Maybe you've experienced this mercy, too... Or maybe you're just looking for it. Perhaps you feel overwhelmed with the mess that is your life (been there), or have that certain restlessness that comes from catching just a glimpse of all the possibilities, but being unable to focus on the one thing that will make you truly, deeply happy. (Hint: happiness is meant to be a byproduct, not the end result.)

Enough for now. I've procrastinated long enough on this Church History paper that is due tomorrow. I hope we run into each other again. Soon --

Under the mercy....