Blog

Your Body Is a Temple–a Stunning, Gorgeous, Incredible Temple

Bible with lilacsI’m a huge fan of the Bible. I’ve read it almost a dozen times (Want to join me?) and there are parts that hit me every time. I buy purses only if they’ll fit my Bible, shake with anxiety when I hand it over to be rebound, and still read with a pencil in hand. Because the Word of God is ever ancient, ever new. I just love it.

But some parts are terribly boring. I know in theory that they’re good somehow and every once in a while I’ll meditate on how God loved each person in the interminable Genesis begats, loved each one so much that he recorded their names for all the world to read forever. But mostly Jesus and I have come to an agreement: I skim. When it’s repetitive lists of numbers or names or dimensions, I just skim. And I’m okay with that.

Yesterday I hit 1 Kings 6: Building of the Temple. I sighed and began to skim. But I was about to give a talk on the Theology of the Body and I guess I had beauty on the brain, because all of a sudden I got it.

God spends a lot of time describing his dwelling place in the Old Testament. Exodus 25, 26, 27, 30, 36, 37, 38, and 40 describe in mind-numbingly minute detail how the ark and the tent and the lamps and the altar are to be made. There’s even a tally of materials to be used–he was very specific. 1 Kings 5 and 1 Chronicles 28-29 describe the materials dedicated for the temple while 1 Kings 6 and 2 Chronicles 3-4 describe Solomon’s temple exactly–to the point that we believe we can make accurate models today. After Solomon’s temple is destroyed, we have two entire books (Haggai and Zechariah) encouraging Israel to rebuild the temple, as described in Ezra 5. Then, of course, there’s the interminable description of a new temple in Ezekiel 40-48 and the (different) new temple in Revelation. It’s enough to drive a person to distraction!

Especially if you, like me, can't picture it at all, no matter how often you read the description. Source.
Especially if you, like me, can’t picture it at all, no matter how often you read the description. Source.

But what if all this temple nonsense isn’t a waste of time? What if it’s in the Bible because it’s of infinite importance? What if God mapped out every cubit of space, every pomegranate and cherub, every tent pole and gate, down to even naming the pillars…to teach us something?

Obviously, there’s plenty we can do with this: Jesus is the perfectly made temple of God, God incarnate; the temple was pure and undefiled, so Mary (the temple that held Christ) must be as well; if beauty and liturgy mattered then, they matter now. But what grabbed ahold of me yesterday was this key to the meaning of all this temple business:

Do you not know that your body is a temple of the holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been purchased at a price. Therefore, glorify God in your body.1

Tattooed virgin martyrChristians have used this passage at every chastity rally since chastity rallies began. Before that, little Regency-era ladies whispered it to their daughters before they took a turn about the garden with a suitor. I’m pretty sure that had the early virgin martyrs had tattoos, they would have been of this passage. We know this passage. “You are a temple of God” means “keep your clothes on.”

Or maybe it means don’t smoke or eat right or exercise or something. Whatever it means, it’s definitely a threat.

But what if it’s not? What if it’s a love letter? What if God calls you his temple in the hope that you’ve struggled through the endless descriptions of his temple of stone and will realize what he’s saying about you? What if he’s saying that you are fearfully and wonderfully made?

Yellow Jellyfish Dear heart, you are not an accident. There is no part of you that is not willed–deeply, desperately desired–by the God of the universe. This God of yours–the God who made oceans and volcanoes and lilacs and hummingbirds–he was just warming up. The greatest beauty in this world is nothing compared to you. From the beginning of time, he was preparing for you. And when he made you–your body, not just your soul–he made you right.

He planned every bit of you. Every atom in your being was accounted for. You think he spent a lot of time thinking about the temple? That house of stone has nothing on you, his living home, his beloved. Your proportions are just what he wanted. Your coloring, your shape, your hair texture have purpose and meaning just as much as any horns or wheels or basins.

Temple Square flowersAnd the result, my friend, is ineffable beauty. You are his temple, stunning and lovely. Every bit of you is covered in glory, as the inside of the temple was covered in gold. You are so much more than the sum of your various parts. Listed out on a page, taken piece by piece, it may be easy to overlook you, easy to skim over you. But all together, you are marvelous, a wonder, a sight to behold.

Now wait a minute. You–rolling your eyes. Shut up. I’m not making this up. This isn’t sappy nonsense about how you’re so pretty just because you’re you. This is truth. Written in the word of God. The God who tells you that you are all beautiful and there is no blemish in you.2 Did you hear that? No blemish. This God who made your creepy long second toe and your moles and your love handles, this God who can see every bit of your body and soul says there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.

Redwood sun flareYou might struggle to accept the fact that you’re lovely, but if you refuse to believe it your self-loathing might just become heresy: the heresy that God screwed up. That even though he tells you in Scripture that every bit of the temple is perfect and planned and that you are his temple, he’s wrong. Got that? Hating yourself is saying that God is wrong.

I know this is hard. I spend my life trying to convince beautiful women that they’re not worthless. I’ve asked young women across this country–hundreds of them–if at some level they hate themselves. One girl one time said no. So I know that many of you are absolutely certain that no matter what you do you will never be enough. Believe me, I know. I’ve been there. Many days, I’m still there. But every once in a while I get a glimpse of this fundamental truth: God doesn’t make junk. He didn’t plan out every square cubit of the temple down to the last talent of bronze and then lament that it wasn’t decorated well. He didn’t form you in your mother’s womb to sigh over your frizzy hair and your acne-ridden skin. He made you–just as you are–on purpose. He thinks you’re stunning.

Stop telling him he’s wrong.

Sum of the Father's love

  1. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 [↩]
  2. Song of Songs 4:7 [↩]

An Open Letter to Everyone Who Disagrees With Me

Dear everyone,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because you disagree with me.1 And because I’m the kind of person I am, you probably disagree with me about something I feel very strongly about. That’s because I feel very strongly about everything. Faith and onions and leggings and children’s books—if I’m informed enough to have an opinion, you can bet it’ll be a terrifyingly passionate one.

Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.
Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.

Unfortunately, I hate conflict. Deeply, desperately hate it. It gives me stomachaches and makes me so miserable I can hardly think about anything else—even when it’s imaginary conflict with people I don’t even know. It is hard for me to be public about my controversial beliefs. But it would be impossible for me not to be. Standing on a soapbox was written into my soul. It’s who I am.

It’s not a comfortable place to be, but it’s often a productive one, this diplomatic-dogmatic balance I try to hold. I cling to what I know to be true and err on the side of love. And generally people see that and respond with respect.

But sometimes not. Sometimes people attack and accuse and willfully misunderstand. Sometimes the rules of logic and civility seem to be thrown out the window. Sometimes the sound of a Facebook notification makes me so anxious I’m afraid I’m going to give myself an ulcer.

So often it’s because we assume the worst about each other. We assume that all people who disagree with us are condemning us. We think they hate us and find us stupid. And we believe that their position is really the stupid one and if only we can beat our flawless argument into their worthless heads they’ll finally agree with us.

Pope Francis loves youI love you. I really do. And when I try to explain these things—chastity or faith or the Eucharist or helping the poor—it’s because I love you. It’s not because you’re wrong and bad and stupid. It’s because I honestly believe that you’ll be happier living in the truth. I’m sure you disagree. And that’s okay. Just please know that I’m trying to love you well through all this.

I kind of hate me. I know how I—and the Church—often come across: a cold-hearted shrew screaming “NO!” at everyone who’s trying to be happy. I hate that I can’t just “live and let live.” But so often “live and let live” is code for “live and let die.” How can I stand by and watch you break your own heart and not say anything? I hate that the love I speak sounds so much like “NO.” I wish we understood each other better so you could hear the “yes” I’m trying to say.

I get where you’re coming from. I think the most important thing in dialogue is honestly trying to understand why the other person takes a particular position. So on every issue, I’m always trying to figure out the kind, loving, genuine beliefs that could motivate my opposition—and then I ascribe them to every person I encounter. So when you’re trying to tell me that rape victims should abort their babies, I hear compassion and sensitivity and a weak understanding of embryology. I’d love to hear why you take this position–that’s why I’m talking to you–but know that I really am assuming the best about you. I’d appreciate the same.

Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can't WAIT to celebrate his feast day!
Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can’t WAIT to celebrate his feast day!

You’re probably not going to convince me. Just about everything I truly believe, I fought. And I fought hard. So if I believe it now, it’s because I’ve asked all these questions and found answers that satisfy me. The only worldview that makes any sense to me at all is the Catholic one. So I’ll listen, because I want to understand your position and appreciate its logic. And if you’re really convincing, I’ll probably think and pray about it for a few days. I may even do some more research.2 But if you’re opposing something the Church teaches infallibly, that’s as far as it’s going to go, God willing.3 Being open-minded, I think, doesn’t mean accepting anything you’re told even if it flies in the face of everything you hold dear; it means being willing to accept that another position is (at some level) kind and reasonable and to consider it fairly. That I’ll do.

I’m not always trying to convince you. Sometimes I know I’m not going to. Maybe you’re so young in your exploration of faith or you’re so rooted in the things of this world or you’ve convinced yourself so thoroughly of a certain matter that I’m pretty sure my input won’t make a difference. I won’t give up on you, but I don’t think it’s my job to convince you of my position. I do think it’s my job to show you that my position4 is reasonable and loving. When I ask you to be open-minded, it’s not because I want you to let go of your convictions; it’s because I want you to recognize that mine aren’t ludicrous or cruel. I promise to return the favor.

I’d love to answer any of your well-meant questions. People are sometimes afraid to ask questions—like they think I’ll be offended by their questions about celibacy or how strange it is to sit in a candle-lit room and talk to yourself. But if you’re asking honestly—either because you want to know or because you’re not sure I’ve asked that question of myself—I’m so happy to answer. I’m a Catholic because I really believe that it’s the truth. I really believe that the Church has all the answers. And if I can’t answer your question, that’s something I need to deal with.

That said, there are some questions that are just accusations. You know, “How can you oppose contraception when priests rape babies?” and “WTF is wrong with you?” and the like. Once we fall into ad hominem attacks and incessant harping on analogies, I’m out.

Seriously

I don’t think you’re stupid because you disagree with me. We live in a world where thinking someone is wrong is perceived as thinking that person is stupid or worthless or going to hell. I don’t think any of those things about anyone. I know wildly intelligent people who disagree with everything that I find essential. I know particularly unintelligent people who understand the faith far better than I ever will. I honestly think it’s been years since I judged a person as stupid or sinful or what-have-you because of his beliefs.

I do tend to think you’re stupid when you stop using reason and start freaking out. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe it’s something I should work on. But when you ignore every point I make except one and then misinterpret that one? When I explain my position over and over and you continue to fight a straw man? When you act like you know all the things and you can’t even grasp my definition of the word the debate hinges on? That’s when I struggle. And that’s usually when I excuse myself from the conversation.

Even people who split infinitives.
Even people who split infinitives.

I’m happy to drop it. It’s the peacemaker in me—I don’t want to fight you. So if you’re done debating, I’ll call it quits. And I probably won’t bring it up again for years, if ever. It’s hard for me not to talk about Jesus, him being the center of my life and all, but it’s easy for me just to limit those comments.5 If you’re firm in your position, I’ll love you and visit you and like your Facebook pictures and never say another word about our disagreement. But I’m here when you’re ready to.

I’m doing the best I can. I was born with my foot in my mouth and it just gets worse when we start talking about something that really matters. When we’re talking, it’s likely that my brain will take over and my heart will run pathetically after, trying to pull the words back into my mouth. I may say something that sounds totally insensitive because we’re speaking different languages. I’m sorry. But please assume that I mean well. I really am trying.

 

This, I think, is what dialogue is all about: love and forgiveness and understanding. It’s not about winning or ripping someone’s worldview apart and leaving him crying amid the rubble. It’s not necessarily about changing anyone’s position but about helping her to nuance it, maybe, or even just to acknowledge yours as not the worst thing ever to happen.

And you know what, friends? I assume you’re on the same page. I assume your intelligence and your good intentions and your integrity. I try to read all of your remarks in the most charitable way possible. Maybe if we all did the same, we could start making some progress.

Yours in compassionate conviction (I hope),

Meg

  1. No, really. You do. About something, I’m sure. [↩]
  2. Really—a very convincing Mormon got me questioning, as did a Calvinist. I’m listening. [↩]
  3. Matters of prudential judgment and politics and opinion are entirely up for grabs, of course. Except Notre Dame football. Duh. [↩]
  4. And by extension, I hope, the Church’s. [↩]
  5. My little brother is an atheist. He also hates football, which makes him a heathen in more ways than one. I said something about football a few years back and he interrupted me: “Meg, you know I don’t like football.” I said, “Timmy, I have two topics. Football and Jesus. Pick one.” He picked football. [↩]

5 Shocking Things Pope Francis Believes

Have you been on the internet this week? Just in case you haven’t, here’s what you missed:

Pope dopeAnyone who’s been paying attention for the past 4 months knows that Pope Francis is nothing at all like his predecessors. In fact, he’s finally modernizing the Catholic Church’s teaching, taking “huge steps forward” with his “radical changes”!1 After millennia of bigotry and backwardness, the 1.2 billion-member-Church is finally becoming relevant to the modern world. Check out the pontiff’s outrageous new doctrines:

1. Catholics should love gay people.

Cool Pope: “If a person is gay and seeks the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge that person?  The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains this point beautifully but says, wait a moment, how does it say, it says, these persons must never be marginalized and ‘they must be integrated into society.’ The problem is not that one has this tendency; no, we must be brothers, this is the first matter.”2

The Old Guard:

It is deplorable that homosexual persons have been and are the object of violent malice in speech or in action. Such treatment deserves condemnation from the Church’s pastors wherever it occurs. It reveals a kind of disregard for others which endangers the most fundamental principles of a healthy society. The intrinsic dignity of each person must always be respected in word, in action and in law. -Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI)3

[Homosexual persons] must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided. –Catechism of the Catholic Church 2358

2. Catholics should love sinners.

Cool Pope: “How much do I love the church? Do I pray for it? Do I feel part of the church family? What do I do to make the church a community where everyone feels welcomed and understood, everyone feels the mercy and love of God who renews life?”4

The Old Guard:

[The Church] must do everything possible so that [those who are divorced and remarried] feel loved and accepted, that they are not ‘outsiders’ even if they cannot receive absolution and the Eucharist. They must see that they too live fully within the Church. -Pope Benedict XVI5

The Church, however, clasping sinners to her bosom, at once holy and always in need of purification, follows constantly the path of penance and renewal.” All members of the Church, including her ministers, must acknowledge that they are sinners. –Catechism of the Catholic Church 827

3. Unbridled capitalism is bad news.

Cool Pope: “A savage capitalism has taught the logic of profit at any cost, of giving in order to get, of exploitation without thinking of people… and we see the results in the crisis we are experiencing.”6

The Old Guard:

The entirety of the encyclical Caritas in Veritate –Pope Benedict XVI

[The Church] has likewise refused to accept, in the practice of “capitalism,” individualism and the absolute primacy of the law of the marketplace over human labor. Regulating the economy … solely by the law of the marketplace fails social justice, for “there are many human needs which cannot be satisfied by the market.” –Catechism of the Catholic Church 2425

4. Jesus died for atheists.

Cool Pope: “The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! ‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone!”7

The Old Guard:

Did the Lord not die for all? That Jesus Christ, as the Son of God made man, is the man for all men, the new Adam, belongs to the fundamental certainties of our faith. -Pope Benedict XVI8

The Church, following the apostles, teaches that Christ died for all men without exception: “There is not, never has been, and never will be a single human being for whom Christ did not suffer.” –Catechism of the Catholic Church 605, quoting the regional Council of Quiercy

5. All people should care for the poor.

Cool Pope: “Throwing away food is like stealing from the table of the poor and the hungry.”9

The Old Guard:

Opulence and waste are no longer acceptable when the tragedy of hunger is assuming ever greater proportions. -Pope Benedict XVI10

Not to enable the poor to share in our goods is to steal from them and deprive them of life. The goods we possess are not ours, but theirs. –Catechism of the Catholic Church 2446, quoting St. John Chrysostom

WYD 2013If these brand new dogmas aren’t enough to convince you, consider how popular Francis is with the youth: 3 million people traveled to Rio to celebrate this past week’s World Youth Day. In contrast, only a few thousand went to Benedict’s celebration in Madrid in 201111 while slightly more attended John Paul’s World Youth Day in Manila in 1995!12

Want more? Here’s some photographic evidence of how much more approachable Francis is than standoffish Ratzinger, who was the Vatican’s doctrinal watchdog before he engineered his successful papal campaign.

So take heart, people of the world. He loves gay people, he loves the poor, he believes in mercy and compassion…in short, the Pope is Catholic!!

Oh, and he can forgive your sins through Twitter, too.

</sarcasm>

That'd be greatIn keeping with the above, check out this NY Times Quiz on the differing positions of our recent 3 popes. And these ten quotes that prove the Pope is a liberal.

  1. Language culled from The Atlantic Wire. [↩]
  2. Via [↩]
  3. Via [↩]
  4. Via [↩]
  5. Via [↩]
  6. Via [↩]
  7. Via [↩]
  8. Via [↩]
  9. Via [↩]
  10. Via [↩]
  11. 2 thousand thousand, but Europe has about 55% the Catholics of Latin America. [↩]
  12. 4 million. At the time, the third largest gathering of human beings ever. [↩]

How To Evangelize (And How Not To)

If I knew you in high school or early college (or probably later college, God help me), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for judging you and lecturing you. I’m sorry for throwing my faith in your face at every possible opportunity.  I’m sorry for responding to your crisis of faith by buying you Anselm’s On the Incarnation and telling you it would fix everything–an excellent book, but not the compassionate response.

See, when I first came to know Jesus in the eighth grade I felt meaning for the first time. My life had purpose and my suffering had value and suddenly–shockingly–I was happy to get out of bed in the morning.1 And I wanted you to feel that. I wanted you to know him and to experience the joy he’d brought to my life. I wanted you to know how desperately you were loved.

If you dressed like this, you would have been desperate to impress, too.
If you dressed like this, you would have been desperate to impress, too.

But I also wanted to win. I wanted you to know that I was right. I wanted you to see that I was really holy. I was awkward and insecure and I thought that if I brought you to Jesus you’d like me better. I had some good intentions when I beat my Bible at you, but not only good intentions and I’m sorry.

When I was younger, I evangelized like a sledgehammer.2 I went at people like they were battles to win, not souls to love. And I did a lot of damage, some of which seems irreparable except by grace. Oh, I know I did some good too. But I don’t think anybody ever sat me down and told me that it wasn’t my job to save souls. And when you think you’re saving souls–and that truth is all it takes–you go at it with the zeal of a crusader and the finesse of a drunken elephant.

My sister has 8-month-old twins. Elizabeth, the older, reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. From the moment she was born, she’s had a big personality with much wider range of emotion than you see from her sister. Lately, she’s taken to screaming like she’s being eviscerated. Turn down your speakers and take a listen (starting at 0:13):

How could you scream in a face like that?
How could you scream in a face like that?

She loves this noise and she really thinks everybody else should love it too. So she crawls over to her twin, playing innocently on the floor, tackles her, pins her to the ground, and sticks her face in Mary Claire’s face, shrieking gleefully as Mary Claire sobs.

Sometimes I think that’s how we evangelize. We’re not trying to hurt anybody. We really think they’re going to love what we’re doing. But we don’t listen to them. We don’t feel for them. We don’t open our eyes to see if they want anything to do with our message. We scream in their face (or on their facebook page) about how we are FILLED with the love of Christ and they’d better be too or they will GO TO HELL!!

Friends, that’s not evangelization. It’s not loving or Christlike or even effective. That’s where we get this reputation of being closed-minded and bigoted–from the few of us who come across as closed-minded and bigoted.

But we have to evangelize–that’s a huge part of being a Christian. Our beautiful Holy Father has been speaking on this need to spread the faith at World Youth Day:

Sharing the experience of faith, bearing witness to the faith, proclaiming the Gospel: this is a command that the Lord entrusts to the whole Church, and that includes you; but it is a command that is born not from a desire for domination or power but from the force of love, from the fact that Jesus first came into our midst and gave us, not a part of himself, but the whole of himself.

So what do we do? How do we evangelize if the simple proselytizing method isn’t going to do it?

1. Pray

Before all else, you have to be in love with Christ. Your prayer life has to be your top priority, although that looks different depending on your state in life, as Haley so brilliantly pointed out. So pray. Go to Mass every week without exception.3 Go to daily Mass as often as you can. Read the Bible! Get to confession–aim at once a month. And seek God in silence. It’s so easy to fill our lives with noise and then let the Rosary or the Liturgy of the Hours be more noise;4 make time every day to be still before the Lord. Even 5 minutes a day will change your life.

Pray for the people in your life who don’t know God or don’t know Christ or don’t know him in the Eucharist. Before you do anything else, pray for them. You can’t change their hearts and you can’t save their souls. Recognize that God is doing the work and ask, seek, and knock on their behalf.

Pray about evangelizing. Ask the Lord who he wants you to speak to and how he wants you to speak. Ask the Holy Spirit to be the one at work in your conversations. Pray before posting something controversial on Facebook, before commenting or sharing or retweeting. Ask Jesus to stand between you and the people you’re trying to bring him to–and to smack you upside the head and shove you away if you’re doing it wrong.

2. Love

He loved you at your worst. Do the same for his other children.
He loved you at your worst. Do the same for his other children.

There is no more powerful force in this world than love. Your job is to love the people around you–and not just as a strategy for their conversion, either! Sure, hopefully your love is so powerful that others recognize something different in you. But if you’re loving people so that you win, you’re fake and probably not terribly convincing about it. Your purpose in loving is not to change someone. Your purpose is to love as Christ loved.

The semester I studied in Italy,5 almost everyone I was there with hated the Church. Passionately. They would make filthy jokes about priests and spent their weekends experimenting with different combinations of alcohol, weed, and caffeine. I knew there was nothing I could say to change their minds, so I prayed and prayed and kept my mouth shut. And went out with them to make sure they didn’t get too drunk to get back. And sat with them on the balcony while they got drunk and high at the same time to make sure they didn’t fall over the railing. I was miserable and felt useless.

And then, at the end of the semester, one of my friends turned to me (drunk) and told me:

“Until this semester, I didn’t think there was a place for me in the Church. But now I think maybe there is. Because you love me. Thank you.”

We fell out of touch, so I don’t know what ended up happening to him. But that moment changed my life. I’d spent years looking for openings to preach when all I needed to do was let love speak.

So once you’ve prayed, shut your mouth and love until it hurts. Then keep loving.

3. Witness

Once people know that you love them, they begin to look at your life to see why. The witness of your life is a powerful statement, and it’s not just about wearing a cross and sharing Catholic memes. It’s about joy and consistency and openness.

Choose to be joyful. The world doesn’t need more dour Christians. Live with an eternal perspective. As Mother Teresa said, “Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of Christ risen.” If your life is transparently joyful–filled with hope in moments that should occasion despair, not just chipper and shallow–people will wonder why.

Be consistent. If you can’t be Christian Saturday night, don’t ask me to join you Sunday morning. Modern man can spot a fake at a thousand paces and if your Facebook timeline is half quotations from Pope Francis and half drunken selfies, you’re doing far more harm than good. Get your stuff together. People don’t mind sinners who acknowledge that they’re sinners and ask for help to be better. They hate hypocrites.

It doesn't have to look like this. But it can.
It doesn’t have to look like this. But it can.

Don’t be embarrassed about your faith. Mention that you’re going to Mass when you make plans for Sunday brunch. Pray before meals. Have a chant ringtone. Those little things help people to connect your love and joy to your faith.

4. Propose

Finally–finally–after praying and loving and doing your best to be as Christlike as possible, finally you can say something. Maybe it’s as simple as sharing an article on Facebook or retweeting the Pope. Maybe it’s inviting someone to go to Mass with you or to join your Bible study. Maybe it’s sitting down with a friend and asking–gently–why he doesn’t go to Church any more. Maybe it’s talking to your friends about NFP. Maybe it’s just being open to how the Holy Spirit is calling you to evangelize.

I knew a high schooler once–captain of the basketball team, center of the school’s social life–who signed up for a holy hour every Friday evening at 10pm. He’d go out to dinner with his friends, go back to somebody’s house, start watching a movie, and then stand up to leave at quarter to 10. He just said, “I’m going to adoration. Anyone want to come?” The timing and the invitation changed that school. Kids would caravan to adoration on Friday nights. Because one guy had the guts to ask.

But when you’re asking those leading questions or inviting friends on a marriage retreat or explaining the Church’s position, be humble. You don’t have all the answers, even though the Church does. You’re not better than anyone or smarter or kinder or even happier. But I would guess that you’re better and smarter and kinder and happier than you were; that’s what you’re offering.

So often, it’s the little things that open people’s hearts to the Lord. It’s inviting them to go to confession, buying them a rosary, asking that question, sharing that CD. The Holy Spirit will lead you there–if you’re praying. It will mean more if you love them. It will be compelling if you’re living it.

It’s not yelling at people when they’re wrong. It’s not snorting derisively or calling them out in public. It’s not ever trying to be right but trying to seek truth. Truth and goodness and beauty–not smug correction or broken relationships.

I’d love to hear your thoughts–how do you draw the line between evangelizing like a sledgehammer and inviting people to Christ? Do you think it’s enough just to love people if you’re not actively introducing them to doctrine? Do you have any stories of how the Lord was leading people to him through you and you didn’t even know it?

*******************

If you live in the Harrisonburg, VA area, will you do me a huge favor? Will you like my mom’s pumpkin patch on Facebook? And then visit in the fall? Thanks!!

  1. Okay, I’m never happy to get out of bed. But I was happy to be alive and excited to face the day. [↩]
  2. I hope it was only when I was younger–if I’m still doing this, please break it to me gently. And NOT in a comment on this post. [↩]
  3. The Church requires that you go to Mass 57 times a year. That’s 0.65% of your life. Are you really so busy that you can’t give God less than 1% of your life? [↩]
  4. These are great prayers. But if you’re not good at praying them–like me–you definitely need silence too. [↩]
  5. I know, I know. Jesus is particularly fond of me. [↩]

Is Jesus God? (Part 4.2: Did Jesus Rise?)

It’s been a long road, this “proving” the divinity of Christ business.1 And after 8,000+ words, all we’ve got is a man who claimed to be God and did some pretty crazy stuff to back it up, a man who was tortured and died and whose body is suddenly missing. For some, the empty tomb might be enough. But I have to keep pushing: where’s the body? It stands to reason that someone stole it, so let’s consider the possibilities.

The Romans

In Jesus’ world, there were three groups of people: the Romans, the Jews who opposed Jesus, and the Jews who were friendly to him (the disciples). Of these three groups, nobody had more power than the Romans. If they were looking to steal Jesus’ body, they certainly had the means.

roman diceBut did they have the motive? Was there any reason for them to steal Jesus’ body? I’ve heard it suggested that they were just trying to stir up trouble between the Jews and the Christians to weaken their opposition to Roman rule. It’s an interesting thought but it fails to take into account the modus operandi of first century Romans: peace at any cost. These were the originators of the pay, pray, and obey model, with the emphasis on paying and obeying. Pax Romana wasn’t just a happy consequence of Roman conquest, it was the point. The Roman empire gave people enough freedom and sovereignty in their territories to keep them mollified so they didn’t revolt. These soldiers whose livelihood—and likely their lives—depended on keeping the peace would have no reason to steal Jesus’ body. It would only have led to unrest, the last thing they wanted.

The Jews

It’s possible, of course, that the Jews stole it. They certainly had the means, given that they were the ones who got Jesus killed in the first place.2 They had power and they had money and they had the guards in their pocket. But again, they had no motive. Remember that they posted a guard to make sure that nobody stole the body and claimed that he rose.3 While the apostles were wondering what Jesus meant by “dying and rising again,”4 the Jews knew exactly what he was going for and they knew that stealing the body would only increase the fervor of his followers.

Besides, if they had stolen the body, don’t you think they would have produced it when people started claiming that he rose? I don’t know about you, but if I had the ability to put those suddenly-confident fishermen in their places, I would have done it right quick. “Oh, you think he rose from the dead? Yeah, well I’ve got your Messiah right here.” Nip that little sect in the bud and get pack to my prayers. No, there’s no way the Jews took it.

The Christians

Ah, now here’s a likely group. I mean, think about it. After Jesus’ performance on Good Friday, his followers look like a bunch of fools. They gave up everything to follow this wandering preacher for three years and then when the time comes for him to declare himself and rise up against Rome he says nothing? He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t even try to defend himself? If I were one of the Apostles, I’d sure as heck want to make it look like he rose. They’re the only ones around with motive: the body disappears and they go from morons to heroes in a matter of days.5

Okay, so Peter's being brave here. Impetuous but brave. But check out Mark on the left!
Okay, so Peter’s being brave here. Impetuous but brave. But check out Mark on the left!

But obviously they’re not going to be the culprits or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. They had the motive but they didn’t have the means. These are the same guys who ran away from the soldiers not three days earlier. Mark was so terrified that when someone grabbed his tunic he ripped it off and ran away naked.6 There is literally nothing in the world I’m so afraid of that it would compel me to rip off my clothes to get away. Peter, of course, ran from a little girl. These guys weren’t exactly Braveheart material. And we’re supposed to believe that they suddenly had a change of heart (and intestinal fortitude), left the Upper Room where they were cowering, snuck through Jerusalem, took out the guards ninja-style without them noticing, rolled away the stone, unwrapped the body, and then died to tell the story?

Let’s unpack this. There’s obviously the fear factor, which in and of itself is pretty convincing. Then there’s the guards. If you’re a guard and you fall asleep on the job, do you concoct some crazy story about being blinded by the light7 or do you go with the more obvious explanation that a horde of tough, angry fishermen knocked you out? In the second case you might get in trouble, but in the first case you get fired and probably told to pee in a cup. It’s not a logical go-to excuse if they just fell asleep.

And the fact that they don’t blame the apostles also tells us that they weren’t attacked. Accusing the obvious suspects is far less ridiculous than “we all just passed out cause we saw this crazy angel thing.” The Jews know something funny happened—that’s why they just shut them up with some hush money instead of punishing them in any way.8

empty-tombAnd then there are the burial clothes rolled up in the tomb.9 If you just knocked out some Roman guards to steal a dead body, do you bother peeling off the blood-soaked burial clothes in the tomb, or do you throw the corpse over your shoulder and book it? I don’t know about you but every time I go grave-robbing I like to unwrap the corpse so I can get all nice and goopy while I’m carrying the rotting flesh around—oh wait, that’s revolting. Nor can I imagine that the Apostles were forward-thinking young philosophers who were covering their tracks by doing the unthinkable in the moment—not these guys, not dealing with this kind of fear, not in this culture.

Finally, there’s the clincher: they died to tell the story. If they stole the body, they knew the Resurrection was a lie—why would they die for it?  10 out of the 11 Apostles who survive the Resurrection were martyred, and John’s survival wasn’t for lack of trying; they poisoned him, they boiled him, he just wouldn’t die.10 Even those early Christians who apostatized11 never claimed the Resurrection was a hoax. What convinced me of the truth of Christianity was that these men who walked with Jesus, heard him preach, watched him die, and then touched his risen body died to tell that story. I just couldn’t find any better explanation than the Resurrection.

Dogs

There are those who call themselves Christian who claim that Jesus’ body was eaten by dogs. Magical ninja dogs, I suppose, who knocked the guards out without them noticing, rolled away a stone it would have taken more than three grown women to move, unwrapped the body, and dragged it away (including all the bones) without leaving a mess or a trail?  Give me a break.

Swoon Theory

mostly-deadOthers—many of whom also claim to be Christian—assert that Jesus didn’t die on the cross, he just passed out. Passed out so thoroughly that the Romans, the Jews, and his mother thought he was dead. Passed out to the point that being stabbed through the pericardial sac elicited no response. Maybe I’m unclear on the definition here, but if you pass out without a pulse or respirations for an extended time, isn’t that death?

Even if he had just passed out, he would have had to come to 40 hours after being in critical condition, peel off the burial clothes clotted into his battered skin, roll away a stone so heavy that three women couldn’t move it without help,12 beat up the guards without their noticing, walk 7 miles away to Emmaus, appear entirely undamaged with the exception of the 5 major wounds, teleport back to Jerusalem, and walk through a locked door. This would be almost a greater miracle than the Resurrection—if it’s not a miracle, it’s just ridiculous. And if we’re acknowledging that Jesus performed miracles, it seems more reasonable to accept the miracle that he foretold and not one devised by 19th-century German theologians.

The Best Explanation

The evidence indicates that Jesus died and (unless you count the few crazies who thought he was a hologram) nobody really claims he didn’t until Mohammed. When the body goes missing, there’s no earthly explanation for it. Fortunately, we’re not looking for an earthly explanation. The only thing that makes sense is the thing that was so surreal the disciples couldn’t understand it when he explained it in small words: he rose from the dead.

Witnesses

Caravaggio doubting ThomasAnd in case an absent body isn’t enough evidence for you (and it shouldn’t be), there are the witnesses. Tons of them. Mary Magdalene,13 other women,14 Cleopas and his companion15, the twelve (eleven) with and without Thomas,16 Peter and six others,17 and to the apostles at the ascension18 At least those specific times, probably more. Then there are Paul’s references to Jesus appearing to Peter and to James and to 500 people at once.19  These weren’t hallucinations—500 people don’t have the same hallucination, nor do eleven guys dream the same dream three different times. And Jesus makes very sure to show them that he wasn’t a ghost—eating with them20 and asking them to touch him.21 They touched his wounds, saw his scars. There was no body double, no swooning, no collective memory modification.

Then, of course, there’s the transformation of the apostles and the spread of Christianity throughout the known world not by violence but by preaching—impossible without the Holy Spirit. Forget the empty tomb, the only possible explanation for Pentecost or the Edict of Milan or 266 popes in a row or anything good to have come out of the Church of Jesus Christ is the Resurrection.

So there you have it.

The Gospels are fairly reliable accounts—at least for the general themes and major events of the life of Christ. They tell us that Jesus claimed to be God. If he claimed to be God, he couldn’t possibly be just a good man, just a great teacher; he was either God himself, a crazy man, or a vicious liar. The miracles he worked show us that he’s more than a lunatic or a liar, as does the most cursory reading of the Gospels. But it comes down to this: Jesus died. He was buried. On the third day, the body was missing. The only possible explanation is the Resurrection. If Jesus claimed to be God and he rose from the dead, he’s God. Full stop.

Final Word

And now here we are at the end of an excessively long series. But you wanted to know why I believe that Jesus is God. Someone did, I’m sure. And this is it—the intellectual part, anyway. The emotional part–the part that keeps me here when everything in and around me is shaking–you read in everything I post and watch in my face when I receive communion. I believe that Jesus is God because of everything I’ve said in this series; I believe in Jesus because I know him. I meet him in the Eucharist and in his Word and in his Church and in the poor and in you, dear brothers and sisters. Thank you for your kindness and prayers and comments and shares and all that you do for the body of Christ. You are a great blessing to me.

  1. See parts 1, 2, 3, and 4.1. [↩]
  2. As a reminder, we’re not blaming all Jews for the crucifixion. It’s everybody’s fault, Jews no more than anyone else. [↩]
  3. Mt 27:64 [↩]
  4. Mk 9:32 [↩]
  5. Of course, the Gospels they write and disseminate don’t do much to encourage their status as heroes, but we’ve already discussed that. [↩]
  6. Mk 14:51-52—the world’s first instance of breakaway pants. [↩]
  7. That’ll be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. You’re welcome. [↩]
  8. Mt 28:11-15 [↩]
  9. Jn 20:6-7 [↩]
  10. I don’t know about you, but if I’m trying to kill someone who just won’t die, I might consider buying some of what he’s selling, but maybe that’s just me…. [↩]
  11. Renounced the faith. [↩]
  12. Mk 16:3 [↩]
  13. Jn 20:10-18 [↩]
  14. Mt 28:8-10. By the way, women in the ancient world weren’t considered reliable enough to be able to testify as witnesses. If you were making up the Resurrection, why would you invent a story in which the most immediate witnesses are practically non-entities, they’re so unreliable? [↩]
  15. Lk 24:13-32 [↩]
  16. Jn 20:19-23, Jn 20:26-30 [↩]
  17. Jn 21:1-14 [↩]
  18. Mt 28:16-20 etc. [↩]
  19. 1 Cor 15:3-8 [↩]
  20. Lk 24, Jn 21 [↩]
  21. Lk 24, Jn 20 [↩]

Is Jesus God? (Part 4.1: Did Jesus Die?)

(This is part four of a series on the divinity of Christ. Start by deciding if the Gospels have any historical value; follow that with Jesus’ claims of divinity; look into prophecies and miracles; then come back here. As an aside, there are a lot of footnotes on this one, so if you’re reading it in your email or your reader, you might want to click through so you can hover over the footnotes to see the text rather than clicking or scrolling to the bottom. Be warned: this post gets a little grisly.)

The Resurrection is Jesus’ ultimate miracle, the defining argument of Christianity. Paul tells us that if Christ has not been raised, our faith is empty.1 Because not only did Jesus foretell that he would be crucified and rise again,2 he also said it was the one essential sign he would give.3

The first step in “proving” the Resurrection4 is establishing that Jesus died. Let’s look a little bit at the suffering that preceded his death:

The Agony in the Garden

Agony in the GardenThe night before he died, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. As he awaited his betrayer, he prayed so fervently that he began to sweat blood.5 This is an actual medical phenomenon—hematidrosis. When a person is under extreme stress, his capillaries can burst under the skin; the blood then oozes out through his pores. This is, as one might expect, an extraordinarily painful situation resulting in extreme bruising wherever the blood vessels burst. Not a good way to start the night.

When his betrayer showed up, Jesus wasn’t surprised. It had been foretold that he’d be betrayed by a friend6 after all, and sold for 30 pieces of silver.7 After he’s dragged away, he’s interrogated,8 punched repeatedly in the face9 and kept up well into the early hours of the morning.10 It seems unlikely that he got much sleep; still less so that he got any food or water. By Friday morning, he would have been in pretty bad shape before the Romans even laid a hand on him.

The Scourging at the Pillar

Scourging at the PillarAfter a night of torment at the hands of the Jews,11 Jesus made his way to wimpy Pontius Pilate, who questioned him weakly and had little but blustering to offer in response to Jesus’ taciturn acceptance of his fate.12 When Pilate found that there really wasn’t any legitimate charge to pin on him, he wanted to let him go. Well, scourge him, then let him go.13 That’s generally my response to people who’ve done nothing wrong.

Then, of course, the real punishment began. If you’ve seen The Passion of the Christ, you’ve got an idea that this was more than a cursory beating. It was torture, plain and simple. Roman soldiers were excellent at inflicting pain and just because this was a preamble to the far more painful crucifixion doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have done a thorough job. While Scripture is silent on the extent of the scourging, we can get a pretty good idea from the blood stains on the Shroud of Turin.14 Scientists who have investigated the blood stains on the Shroud15 say that the man it was wrapped around would have been in critical condition before he even made it to the Cross.

The Crowning with Thorns

Crucified crown of thornsAs if all the beatings weren’t enough, let’s add insult to injury by mocking the Lord with a crown of thorns.16 And these weren’t your Grandma’s thorns. We tend to depict the crown of thorns as something that would have scratched poor Jesus’ sweet little face, but the evidence17 indicates that these were skull-piercing thorns.18 Long enough to do some serious damage.

The Carrying of the Cross

Now, we don’t know exactly how much Jesus’ cross weighed, although recent scholarship suggests 100 pounds at the very least. And we don’t know how far he walked, although it was probably at least a mile and it was certainly uphill. But we do know that the task was so hard—or Jesus was in such bad shape—that he couldn’t do it himself.

Jesus fallsBear in mind once again that Roman soldiers weren’t exactly known for their compassion. Especially not toward Jews. So when they impress Simon of Cyrene into service,19 it’s probably not because they were feeling nice. It makes more sense to assume that Jesus had been beaten so raw that he looked likely to pass out. And the soldiers’ job wasn’t just to kill him. Romans are more specific than that. They were supposed to crucify him. Crucifixion was the most humiliating and painful way to die—so painful that they had to invent a new word to describe the pain: excruciating. Ex cruce. From the cross.

So if they wanted to stay out of trouble, they had to make sure he made it all the way up to Calvary. God seems to have wanted it that way, too, given all the types20 of the Cross that he put into salvation history. Isaac carrying the wood of his sacrifice,21 Noah saved by the wood of the ark,22 the bronze serpent lifted up23…. Then there’s the fact that crucifixion was the most shameful and agonizing way one could die—this God of ours wasn’t content with a quick painless death for us; he wanted us to know that he was willing to suffer everything for us. And that he had already suffered everything with us.

The Crucifixion

Now comes the real fun.24 Jesus, having been stripped, beaten, and mocked, is now nailed to a cross and hung—most likely stark naked—to suffocate to death. I’m sure you know that’s how crucifixion works, but take a moment to give it a try. Stand up and hold your arms out to the side. Far enough behind you that they could be nailed to a cross. Now lift them above your shoulders like you’re hanging there. Good. Now take a deep breath.

You can’t do it, can you? Your diaphragm is lifted by the position of your arms, leaving very little room for your lungs to expand. You can get enough oxygen that our little experiment won’t kill you, but it would if you did it long enough. (You can put your arms down now.)

Bloody crucifixionThis is how crucifixion works. It’s long and slow and terrible. Men who weren’t beaten first would usually hang by the side of the road, being ridiculed and spat at, for three days before they finally died. Jesus was such a wreck that it only took him three hours. Only three hours of slowly suffocating to death, having to rip the nails further through his wrists every time he pulled himself up far enough to take a deeper breath. Only three hours of horrific pain aggravated by the panic that an inability to breathe sparks in the human body.

This is where the typology really goes nuts. Jesus even calls out the first line of Psalm 22—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—to make sure we’re making the connections.25 He’s mocked by onlookers who insist that God would save him if he loved him.26 He cries out with desperate thirst.27 His hands and feet are pierced.28 They divide his clothing and cast lots for his robe.29 Quite the coincidence if it’s not really the fulfillment of prophecy.

bloody crucified ChristBy the time he breathes his last, it seems like a sure thing that he’s good and dead. Nobody could survive all this. But the Romans weren’t taking any chances. After all, Romans who botched an execution were likely to be executed themselves. So we can be fairly confident that he’s dead simply from the fact that they don’t break his legs. To speed up the process—to make it impossible for the condemned to push up with their legs and get a little more oxygen—they broke the legs of the two thieves. But Jesus was already dead, so they didn’t bother.30 If they didn’t break his legs, they must have been certain that he was dead—they’re pros, after all.

Just to be sure, though, they stabbed him in the side.31 And he didn’t flinch. That might not mean anything on its own, but John gives us a key detail: blood and water poured out. Sure, that symbolizes baptism and the Eucharist, his divine and human natures, and any number of other things. But it’s also scientifically relevant. When a person suffocates, there’s a clear fluid that collects in the pericardial sac, the region around the heart. While one might expect Luke, the doctor, to fabricate this information, we get it from John, who recounts it not because it’s convincing but because he was there and probably got sprayed.

What does it matter that it was the “water” from the pericardial sac? It means he got good and stabbed. This is no surface wound, it’s a serious attack on flesh and organs. Any living body would react to this. Even if the spear miraculously missed the lungs and heart, the trauma of the thrust would have caused a living body to gag or seize or something. Even if he had passed out, even if he was comatose, even if he was completely paralyzed, his body would have reacted. But it didn’t. If he’s not flinching when he’s stabbed through (or at least near) the heart and lungs, he’s good and dead.

Nobody at the time claimed he didn’t die—that would be ridiculous. Even the Jews (in Biblical times and later) affirmed that Jesus was dead. Nobody could suffer all this and survive. See Acts 25:19, for example: “Instead [the Jews] had some issues with him about their own religion and about a certain Jesus who had died but who Paul claimed was alive.”

Burial

veiled Christ shroudBut exploring the death of Jesus is, of course, only part one of the question of the resurrection. We’re following the body now, a body that was buried32 in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea.33 He wasn’t stolen away and hidden somewhere secret. His burial place was widely known—to the point that the Jews posted a guard.34 The disciples may not have understood his predictions of the resurrection, but the Sanhedrin sure did. So they checked on the body, sealed the tomb, and posted a guard.

The Body

And then, on the third day, the body was missing. The stone was rolled away, the tomb was empty, and the guards had some cockamamie story about seeing some glowing guy and going catatonic with fear.35 The burial cloths were rolled up in the tomb and there was no trace of yesterday’s bloody corpse. The guards’ story—and the Jews’ hush money36—indicate that the conflict at this point wasn’t about whether the tomb was empty but why. Nobody, it seems, could produce the dead Messiah. So it all comes down to this: where’s the body?

For that, friends, you’ll have to tune in next time. This post is plenty long enough already. But I’ll give you a little hint (spoiler alert!): he rose.

  1. 1 Cor 15:14 [↩]
  2. Mt 20:18-19, among others. [↩]
  3. Mt 12:38-40 [↩]
  4. By “proving,” I mean demonstrating that it is the best possible explanation. [↩]
  5. Lk 22:44 [↩]
  6. Ps 41:10 [↩]
  7. Zec 11:12-13 [↩]
  8. Mt 26:57-68 etc. [↩]
  9. Mt 26:67 etc. [↩]
  10. After Peter denies him, the cock crows. Whether that’s the Roman hour of cock crow—gallicinium—or an actual rooster crowing, he was still being tormented at 3am. [↩]
  11. Let’s take a moment to remember that while historically the Jews crucified Jesus, so did the Romans. Really, though, it was our sins that crucified Jesus. So, and I hope this is obvious, we do not in any way blame the Jews of today for the sufferings of Christ. No more than we blame ourselves, that is. Don’t be an anti-Semite. Jesus is a Jew. [↩]
  12. Is 53:7 [↩]
  13. Lk 23:15-16 [↩]
  14. Look into some of the research surrounding this fascinating artifact. While some dubious test results have convinced people that it’s a medieval forgery, the bulk of the evidence suggests that it’s legit. Suffice it to say that the image on the Shroud cannot be reproduced. It isn’t paint, dye, pigment, lead, or ash. In fact, scientists have no idea how it was created. Their best bet is that the body it was wrapped around suddenly emitted a great deal of radioactive light, resulting in the image that we have today—which, by the way, is a photo negative of a person. It would be pretty impressive—that is to say, impossible–for a forger of the middle ages to even have a concept of a photo negative let alone the capacity to emit radioactive light. This skeptic is convinced. [↩]
  15. Check out A Doctor at Calvary if you really want to get into the medicine behind all this. A shorter version linked to here. [↩]
  16. Mt 27:29 etc [↩]
  17. Pollen on the Shroud [↩]
  18. Which, by the way, would make a great name for a Christian screamo band. I’ve been saying this for years and one day I just know I’m going to turn on the radio and hear the end of some awful shrieky thing. “That’s the newest single from Skull-Piercing Thorns,” the announcer will say, and my life will be complete. [↩]
  19. Mt 27:32 etc. [↩]
  20. Old Testament people or events that foreshadow New Testament realities [↩]
  21. Gen 22:6 [↩]
  22. Gen 6-9; Wis 14:5, 7 [↩]
  23. Nm 21:4-9; Jn 3:14 [↩]
  24. /sardonic [↩]
  25. Mt 27:46 etc. [↩]
  26. Ps 22:9, Wis 2:18, Mt 27:43 etc. [↩]
  27. Ps 22:16, Jn 19:28 [↩]
  28. Ps 22:17-18, Is 53:5, Is 49:16 [↩]
  29. Ps 22:19, Mt 27:35 etc. [↩]
  30. Also fulfills prophecy—Ex 12:46, Jn 19:36 [↩]
  31. Zec 12:10, Zec 13:6, Jn 19:37 [↩]
  32. Is 53:9 [↩]
  33. Mt 27:57-60 etc. [↩]
  34. Mt 27:62-66 [↩]
  35. Mt 28:4 [↩]
  36. Mt 28:11-15 [↩]

100 Ways to Be Pro-Life

I am pro-life. I’m not just pro-birth or anti-abortion. I’m pro-life. That means I’m pro-babies and pro-elderly and pro-immigrant and pro-disabled and pro-peace. I’m anti-poverty and anti-discrimination and anti-hatred. I vote against abortion and against capital punishment and against toxic waste. I offer help to pregnant women, single mothers, overworked fathers, depressed teenagers, homeless veterans, middle-class suburbanites, undocumented immigrants, uneducated children, struggling students, lonely old men, and frightened refugees. I don’t think your life is worth any more because you’re white or American or intelligent or born. I don’t think it’s enough to be pro-life and not do anything about it. And while we may each be drawn to focus on a different pro-life issue, I’m not convinced that you can really be pro-life if you’re not whole-life–conception to natural death, no exceptions.

We can’t all pray outside clinics or write legislation or teach the next generation to value the dignity of each life. But we can all fight for life. We can love the lives around us and reach out to those far away. We can sacrifice for those who need it and refuse to be silenced. We can question and weep and rage and pray. We can fight.

  1. Adopt a cute little baby.
  2. Adopt a belligerent teenager.
  3. Adopt a child with a cleft palate, spina bifida, or multiple sclerosis.
  4. Thank a birth mother.
  5. Be a foster parent.
  6. Take a meal to a family that’s struggling.
  7. Start awkward conversations about hard issues.
  8. Take a pay cut to do something meaningful.
  9. Stop by your local crisis pregnancy center. Do whatever they need done.
  10. Write to your Grandmother.
  11. Have a picnic in the park for the homeless.
  12. Where's the supportThrow a baby shower for a teen mother.
  13. Offer to babysit for that frazzled couple you know–for free.
  14. Read up on immigration reform.
  15. Don’t buy clothes made in sweatshops.
  16. Show your children pictures of unborn babies.
  17. Spiritually adopt a prisoner on death row.
  18. Love your children.
  19. Love other people’s children.
  20. Share this article about what a blessing an autistic child can be.
  21. When a couple suffers a miscarriage, mourn with them.
  22. Get involved with your local Catholic Worker House.
  23. Buy generics–give the difference to Catholic Relief Services.
  24. Recognize that mental illness is an illness.
  25. Go through your closet once a year–give anything you haven’t worn to the St. Vincent de Paul society.
  26. Stop judging people because their ancestors immigrated after yours did.
  27. Support businesses that are taking a risk in order to fight for our first amendment rights.
  28. Give up your seat to an elderly/handicapped/pregnant/world-weary person.
  29. Give blood.
  30. Give a kidney.
  31. Give bottles of water to day laborers waiting for work.
  32. When an unmarried woman tells you she’s pregnant, figure out a way to tell her how proud you are. If your life is transparent, telling her she’s your hero won’t make her think extramarital sex is okay in your book.
  33. Read Dead Man Walking and all the footnotes.1
  34. Invite a woman dealing with a crisis pregnancy to live in your home.
  35. Grandmother JPTake your baby to a nursing home and hand her around.
  36. Advocate for women’s health without advocating for killing unborn women.
  37. Buy a homeless man dinner.
  38. Watch this movie and tell me if it’s as cute as the trailers made it look.
  39. Watch Bella in a group and then discuss. Is abortion ever necessary? Would you have gone to the clinic with her?
  40. Watch Million Dollar Baby in a group and then discuss.2 Was there another way out? What value does suffering have?
  41. Teach your kids to tithe from their allowances; meet quarterly to pick a charity to give to.
  42. Study Just War Theory before you support a war.
  43. Study Just War Theory before you support pulling out.
  44. Have babies.
  45. Smile at them in public.
  46. Smile at them in private.
  47. Write your senator.
  48. Thank your priest after he preaches on any controversial topic.
  49. Give to people who need it–no questions asked.
  50. Give until it hurts.
    I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc. is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say that they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charities expenditures excludes them.–C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
  51. Pay a fair wage.
  52. Tell your local crisis pregnancy center you’ll babysit for their clients–free.
  53. Tell your story.
  54. Andrea BocelliInvite your aging parents to live with you.
  55. Keep blessing bags in your car for the homeless.
  56. Talk–gently–about abortion with those who support it.
  57. Love post-abortive women (and men) extra hard.
  58. PRAY!
  59. Thank a veteran.
  60. Stand up to a bully.
  61. Don’t waste food/clothing/energy/an opportunity to help.
  62. Stay informed.
  63. Choose to believe that people generally have good intentions.
  64. Give your time, talent, and treasure to a soup kitchen, a battered women’s shelter, an assisted living facility, Habitat for Humanity, legal aid, prison ministry, a home for teen moms, a camp for the disabled…anywhere that helps anyone.
  65. Talk about atrocities being perpetrated in other countries.
  66. Sign the Declaration of Life and give a copy to your family members. It may not be legally binding, but it’s a powerful statement.
  67. Recognize beauty in every human face. And every body type. And every ability level. And every set of problems and addictions and anxieties.
  68. Figure out why research done on adult stem cells is better than on embryonic stem cells–on every level.
  69. Question Guantanamo Bay, nuclear proliferation, gun laws, and international debt.
  70. 100_0099Spend some time in Palestine and begin questioning that wall.
  71. Befriend the outcast.
  72. Share the Gospel with someone.
  73. Buy locally.
  74. Take a risk on someone handicapped/uneducated/foreign when you’re hiring.
  75. Learn the facts about human embryology. Share them.
  76. Recognize that poverty is not synonymous with laziness.
  77. Live on minimum wage for a month.
  78. Smile more.
  79. Don’t use hormonal contraceptives.3
  80. Bake cookies for prisoners.
  81. Educate people about human trafficking.
  82. Don’t assume all homeless people are on drugs.
  83. Talk to a friend about her alcohol problem.
  84. Go to the March for Life.
  85. Blog about pro-life issues.
  86. Realize that war, poverty, capital punishment, education, discrimination, euthanasia, health care, immigration, affordable housing, fair trade, prostitution, and sweatshops are also pro-life issues.
  87. grinning FelicityTake your kids to the Special Olympics.
  88. Pray for those who go hungry every time you eat. Eat accordingly.
  89. Talk to a theologian when dealing with end-of-life issues.
  90. Reduce, reuse, recycle.
  91. Mentor at-risk youth.
  92. Stop yelling at your kids.
  93. Walk more, drive less.
  94. Look for a need in your community. Meet it.
  95. Teach ESL for free.
  96. Befriend someone who disagrees with you.
  97. Listen more than you talk.
  98. Don’t give up on people.
  99. Forgive.
  100. Love everybody. No exceptions.

Your whole life can be a battle for life–every life. What would you add to the list?

  1. They’re out of date but little has changed besides inflation as far as I know. [↩]
  2. Warning: rated morally offensive by the USCCB reviews for violence and the obvious moral quandary. I had no qualms about showing it to mature teenagers. [↩]
  3. Or any, for that matter. [↩]

Links You’ll Love (And Others That’ll Tick You Off)

With everything that went on last week, my browser still has a good 40 tabs open. I can hardly scan Facebook without opening another 5 or 6 articles that could blow my mind. But in case your Facebook friends aren’t as holy and brilliant as mine, I thought I’d share some of this past week’s highlights:

If only....
If only….

If you use pornography–ever–you have to stop. Marc Barnes will tell you why with three secular arguments against porn–brace yourself. And then click over to find some great internet resources to help you kick the habit.

After last week’s #standwithWendy debacle, it might help to know what Wendy Davis was standing for before you read a scathing letter addressed to America’s new darling.

Emily Stimpson is spot on with her plea to our spiritual fathers to be who they were ordained to be. These lines in particular had me shouting my agreement and then awkwardly looking around the room to see if anyone had noticed:

The Church’s liturgy and architecture should reveal a richness of beauty and belief that robs the gruel fed to us by the culture of all its appeal. It should move us to love God and neighbor more. It should make us long for Heaven. It should make us sorry for our sins.

On Sundays, don’t tell me to be nice; tell me to be holy. Don’t tell me to trust God; tell me who God is. Don’t even tell me to be faithful; tell me what faithful means. Explain holiness. Explain sin. Be specific. Preach on what lust, gluttony, selfishness, laziness, pride, anger, and vanity are, why they’re bad for me, and how to avoid them. Preach the Creed. Preach the saints. Preach the story of salvation history. And preach it in all its fullness. … Don’t waste your precious 10 minutes in front of a semi-captive audience repeating fluff we can get from Oprah.

My beautiful friend Adele went to the doctor with a heavy heart and got some very good news. It’s  beautiful story and she could use a lot of prayers!

Elizabeth writes in defense of men. And while I taught her senior religion class, I can’t take any credit for her brilliance. She was incredible when she got to me–and just had a beautiful baby boy, adding to my roster of “grandchildren.”

When people in Wisconsin tell you they belong to a country parish, they're not kidding.
When people in Wisconsin tell you they belong to a country parish, they’re not kidding.

Archbishop Cordileone of San Francisco gave a phenomenal interview on homosexual unions back in March that’s more relevant now than it was then. He explains the secular case against gay marriage and what some of the consequences of its legalization might be.

R.J. Snell explains why we’re losing the culture wars. In short, we’ve found ourselves in a position where our opposition is in favor of love and equality and has a monopoly, it seems, on all the sentiments that surround them. Meanwhile we use words like telos and ontological to try to combat images of wedding dresses and happy families.

In cased you missed it with all the noise from the repeal of DOMA and the heroics of Wendy Davis, the HHS mandate made further strides last week. Archbishop Carlson of St. Louis explains why all Americans should object to it:

If government can force Catholics to pay for something we find morally wrong, why can’t it force you to participate in something you object to? You would not force a vegetarian to pay for your hamburger or an atheist to buy you a Bible, would you? Then why would you force a Catholic to pay for your contraceptives?

Still we are not going gentle–check out a letter urging Americans to stand up for religious freedom signed by Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants, Mormons, a Jew, a Vaisnava,1 and even a Scientologist. Did I miss any?

Christina gets real about learning to forgive herself. As an aside, you should really read her blog. If nothing else, read it on Fridays when she posts her links roundup for the week–half of the worthwhile things I read I find through her.

Waiting in the tabernacle

This letter begging fathers to be gentle and kind and loving with their kids could be addressed to all parents. I’ll add my own thought (having been a foster mother) that parents should do everything–everything–in their power to keep from yelling at their children in anger. And when you do, you apologize and tell them over and over how much you love them.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the Netherlands is working to legalize euthanasia for children. That’s right: allowing children to decide that it’s time to die. Don’t worry, though–parents are already allowed to euthanize their infants, so we’re not leaving entirely in the hands of children.

I’ll leave you with a heartwarming story about a father’s love. This man was livid when he found out that his second child would be born with Down Syndrome. He even tried to convince his wife to abort her. It wasn’t until months after she was born that he realized what a gift she was–and wanted to show the world. He began running marathons with her and even had “Down Syndrome” tattooed across his chest. “It’s the first thing people think when they see her. I want it to be the first thing they think when they see me, too.”

By the way–this 15-minute segment aired on ESPN. Color me impressed!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4foXehDmWs&feature=player_embedded

Will you take a minute to pray for my seminarian friend Joel? St. Thomas is his patron Saint, so I try to remember him on July 3rd every year.

When in doubt, search for Caravaggio.
When in doubt, search for Caravaggio.
  1. Person who practices Hare Krishna. Yeah, I had to Google that. [↩]

Is Jesus God? (Part 3: Was Jesus a Fraud?)

(Despite the length of time it’s taking me to post these installments, this is part of a series. Check out part 1 on the credibility of the Gospels and part 2 on Jesus’ claim of divinity before you jump in.)

Part of what makes me a good apologist, I think, is that I’m a skeptic by nature. So when you tell me about the miracle of how you had a cold and now you don’t, I’ll smile and nod and tell you how lovely that is but I tend not to buy it. I tend to assume that there were natural causes for whatever people are calling a miracle or a vision or whatever. I don’t contradict people because if it encourages them in their pursuit of the true, the good, and the beautiful it doesn’t much matter if it was a supernatural phenomenon or a natural one that God used to his purposes.

Dead 350 years, looks like he's taking a nap. NBD.
St. Vincent de Paul: dead 350 years, looks like he’s taking a nap. NBD.

What this means is that any miracle I’m convinced by is probably pretty convincing. The miracles at Lourdes,1 for instance, or Padre Pio’s2 or Bonnie’s little boy who was dead for an hour. These miracles are impossible things well-attested by reasonable, educated people. And when you look at the Gospels, you see all kinds of prophecies fulfilled and miracles worked; enough to convince this skeptic that there’s something going on.

Prophecies

At first glance, the alleged fulfillment of prophecies isn’t terribly impressive. Many of them just seem too easy to fake. So that whole “born in Bethlehem”3 thing strikes me (when I’m wearing my hypothetical skeptic hat) as something Jesus could have made up. After all, he was from Nazareth. But if the prophecies said he would be from Bethlehem, he could say he was from Bethlehem. “This one time, there was a census….” Bada-bing, bada-boom, Messiah from Bethlehem!

And being of the tribe of Judah would have been no problem—almost all the Jews were. That’s where they got their name from. House of David4 would have been a little harder, but if you cross your fingers when you jot down your genealogy, maybe nobody will check into it.

There’s a problem with this theory of deliberate fulfillment of prophecy, though; beyond those two, Jews at the time of Jesus had little idea what was prophesied about the Messiah. They knew the Messiah was supposed to save his people and they were sure as heck in need of saving. After decades under Roman rule (following centuries ruled by everybody else in the Near East), they were ready for a knight in shining armor to come riding in and save the day.

Slightly anachronistic, but still more of what they were expecting in a Messiah than some carpenter from Nazareth. (Source.)
Slightly anachronistic, but still more what they were expecting in a Messiah than some carpenter from Nazareth. (Source)

They say that every woman at the time of Christ hoped that she’d be the one to bear the Messiah. Not a one of them was hoping for Jesus. None of this meek and humble of heart business—the Jews wanted action, violence, intrigue. They were looking for a temporal ruler, a military genius who’d unite the Jewish people to overthrow their oppressors. When people started calling Jesus the Messiah they were all ears. Even with all his talk of love and forgiveness and repentance they were willing to listen. Heck, they were willing to acclaim him as king and throw palm branches before him.

And then, like a lamb led to the slaughter or a sheep before the shearers, he was silent and opened not his mouth.5 He didn’t call down legions of angels or even speak in his own defense. This was not the Messiah they’d been raised looking for. Jesus was a failure.

Because he wasn’t looking to fulfill their expectations. He was fulfilling prophecy instead. If he’d come charging in just as they’d expected it would be reasonable to think he was a fraud. But he didn’t conform himself to their image of him. He didn’t go out of his way to do what they thought the Messiah should do. It wasn’t until he opened the Scriptures to the disciples on the road to Emmaus that they began to see how everything—everything—pointed to him.

Everybody’s favorite, of course, is Isaiah 7:14: A virgin shall be with child and bear a son and shall call his name Emmanuel. We’re so used to hearing this in Christmas pageants that we assume the Jews would have understood it just as we do: a virgin will have a baby. But “virgin” can also mean young woman and that’s how the Jews would have read it. It wasn’t until a virgin actually did have a baby—a baby who is Emmanuel, God with us—that we began to see the fullness of the meaning of Isaiah’s words. And then we started wondering if maybe naming him “God-hero” and “Father forever”6 might hint at his divine nature. Certainly, his virgin birth and divinity could have been invented,7 but why would the evangelists make up the fulfillment of a prophecy that nobody was looking for?

Not the throne they were expecting.
Not the throne they were expecting.

The bulk of the prophecies that Christians point to are about the Passion. We’re told that they’ll pierces his hands and his feet8 for our offenses.9 We see his unbroken bones foretold in the Paschal Lamb,10 who was slaughtered at twilight and whose blood marked the chosen ones for their salvation. We watch him die for the sins of his people11 in order to justify them.12 And we know that he will rise because he himself told us he was the new Jonah.13

Jews at the time of Jesus were looking for a liberator, one who would fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah 61. But liberation from sin and suffering wasn’t what they were trained to look for. They didn’t see those miracles coming. And while they may have expected the Messiah to be a miracle-worker à la Isaiah 35, it seems to me that if a guy is healing the blind and the deaf and the lame and the mute, he is who he says he is.

Miracles

Christ Healing the Blind, El Greco
Christ Healing the Blind, El Greco

Jesus was kind of a baller. When he worked a miracle, he left no doubt. These miracles of his are radical, unmistakable miracles. And because he is all in all, these miracles aren’t just evidence of his divinity;14 they’re also, for the most part, moments of reconciliation and liberation for those healed or exorcised or fed or raised. Jesus never uses people to exalt his own reputation—more often than not, he asks them to tell no one. He knew that if he was merely a miracle-worker, people would come to him to get what they wanted, not to get him. But he couldn’t leave them in their suffering and isolation, so he became a miracle-worker. These miracles are powerful evidence in the case for his divinity, but he himself says that they won’t be enough.

Even those who deny Jesus acknowledge that there was something unexplainable about him—the Babylonian Talmud says he practiced sorcery. Clearly something strange was going on. But in a world of Chris Angel and discredited faith healers, we tend to think we can explain away the miracles of Christ. They’re psychosomatic or faked healings, “magic” caused by sleight of hand or mirrors. The trouble with these theories is that Jesus went hard in the paint;15 his miracles were unmistakable.

First of all, there were too many of them to be coincidence. It’s not like that one time you said you wished it would quit raining and it did. Jesus wasn’t just in the right place at the right time when the man with the withered hand was healed. And even with miracles like the calming of the storm, which could have been luck, they just happened too often. Despite their reluctance, the crowds are convinced by the sheer number of miracles: “When the Messiah comes, will he perform more signs than this man has done?”16 Over and over and over again the Gospels recount stories of healings and exorcisms and resurrections. How many times do you have to walk on water before we get impressed?

Admittedly, it would have been more impressive if he had turned a leopard into a leper.
Admittedly, it would have been more impressive if he had turned a leopard into a leper.

Because these miracles were also too big to be faked. Maybe you could fake something small– the feeding of the 5, for example, or healing the guy with an astigmatism.  But 5000?  Blind from birth?  Ten lepers?  How do you fake that? Take a look at some of these stories; there are impossible odds, witnesses, and immediate results. Lazarus had been dead for four days when he came walking out of that tomb. The waves Jesus walked on were so high even seasoned fishermen were nervous. These aren’t parlor tricks and mild hypnosis. These are miracles, plain and simple.

And he didn’t work these alleged miracles in the secret of the Upper Room. For many of them, he had witnesses. Even discounting the ones he worked only in the sight of his disciples (the Transfiguration, for instance), there were too many witnesses to his miracles for them to be imagined or fabricated after the fact. You can’t hypnotize 5,000 people into thinking they had lunch. Peter points out the importance of this eyewitness testimony in his second letter: We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.17 Peter knew who Jesus was because he was an eyewitness. So, it seems, were many of those who threw down palm branches that Sunday in Jerusalem—and who decided miracles weren’t worth risking the wrath of the Pharisees when they called for his execution later that week.

With the volume, the size, and the witnesses of these miracles, it seems pretty clear that they weren’t just lies or exaggerations or tricks. There was something supernatural going on. But God isn’t the only one who can pull off the supernatural. Satan’s pretty good at that, too. Is it possible that Jesus is just a liar and that his miraculous “evidence” was fueled by demonic power?

Note to self: don't do a Google image search for Satan when little ones are looking over your shoulder. Or maybe ever again. Creepy.
Note to self: don’t do a Google image search for Satan when little ones are looking over your shoulder. Or maybe ever again. Creepy.

A quick look at the nature of these miracles settles that issue. Satan is evil, the complete absence of good. He wouldn’t heal and calm storms and feed people, he would maim and kill and cause devastation. If he were clever enough to heal in order to seduce people, his true nature would show through somewhere. He’d behead people and then restore them, rip off their arms before reattaching them. He wouldn’t calm a storm and feed people, either; he’d show off with tornadoes and tidal waves, terrifying miracles to show his power and scare people into following him. And while he could cast out demons, it seems an unlikely strategy.18

But while it seems that he wouldn’t do any of these things, the fact remains that he could. And Satan is on his game, as anyone with a TV set can tell you. There’s one thing he can’t do, though: he can’t raise the dead. The prince of this world has no power over the next, no power over the human soul. Perhaps he could reanimate bodies, but a dead little girl who suddenly needs a snack19 would be beyond him. What this leaves us with is supernatural phenomena that couldn’t have been caused by the devil. By my count, that makes these miracles divine.20

All this isn’t (in and of itself) to say that Jesus’ miracles prove his divinity. Just about everything Jesus did, Elisha had done first. What I’m saying is that these miracles were done by the power of God. And if Jesus claimed to be God and then worked miracles by God’s power, he must be God.

But still the doubts creep in. Maybe all the stuff about the miracles was made up? Once again, there was too much accountability. Maybe it was embellished? Oh, fine. Let’s knock this one out of the ballpark. Next time, we’ll look at the ultimate proof of the divinity of Christ: the Resurrection. Until then, spend some time praying over the miracles Christ worked and ask yourself what healing he’s trying to work in your heart. Mark 5’s a good place to start and evidence that your healing may hurt but the joy on the other side is worth the struggle to get there. God bless you, my friends.

  1. The Church is pretty nuts about what she’ll declare an official miracles. Of over 7,000 alleged miracles at Rome, she’s only approved 67. That means they’re just as skeptical as I am! [↩]
  2. How about a little girl with no pupils who can suddenly see–despite still having no pupils!! [↩]
  3. Mic 5:1 [↩]
  4. Is 11:1-2, 2 Sam 7:12-14 [↩]
  5. Is 53:7 [↩]
  6. Is 9:5 unless your translation numbers them differently. Then Is 9:5 is about boots tramping and cloaks rolled in blood. The one after that. [↩]
  7. Well, not his divinity, but we’re building to that. Very, very slowly. [↩]
  8. Ps 22:17 [↩]
  9. Is 53:5 [↩]
  10. Ex 12:46 [↩]
  11. Is 53:8 [↩]
  12. Is 53:11 [↩]
  13. Mt 12:39-40 [↩]
  14. Jn 5:36 [↩]
  15. Something kids say these days. It means, I’m told, that he gave 100%. Not 110%. Not one thousand, million percent. That’s neither a number nor a possibility, Randy Jackson. Stop it. [↩]
  16. Jn 7:31 [↩]
  17. 1:16 [↩]
  18. Mt 12:24-28 [↩]
  19. Mk 5:43 [↩]
  20. Assuming that there is a God and that there’s only one and that Satan is the only other supernatural force in the world yada yada yada. [↩]

Faith Like a Toddler

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s taking literally anything–any story, joke, momentary distraction–and relating it to Jesus. So I know you’re wondering what I managed to make of this:

tantrum twitterWell, I’m guest-posting over at Jenna’s today, so you’ll have to click over there to find out.

Also, Dwija is awesome and funny and pretty much great at life and I wish I were her friend–not least because of this post. But she’s struggling right now. She’s pregnant with baby number 6 and it’s not going well and–as if she needed more drama in her life–her laundry room is a disaster. Think you could stop over to Cari’s to make a quick donation? Think of it as the donation you’d make to my ministry if you ever met me.1

Please?

  1. Although really, if you haven’t, it’s your own fault. I’ve been to 42 states and I’m hitting New England in September to bring it up to 48. If you want to hang out, you just have to ask. [↩]