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3 Reasons: The Mandate

I don’t know that I’ll ever run out of reasons I love Catholicism. But with the Fortnight for Freedom starting later this week, I’ve got contraception and persecution on my mind. So we’ll call this the Remember-the-HHS-Mandate-Yeah-That’s-Still-Happening edition.

1. Perspicacity1

I remember once talking to a woman who was in a Lutheran seminary studying for ministry. Since I was in college and knew everything,2 I was debating her about something. To make a point, I asked, “Well, what does baptism do?”

Now, any moderately-catechized Catholic will automatically spout something about how it takes away Original Sin or at least something about it making you a Christian. So I thought I was still on common ground. Her response?

“I haven’t decided yet.”

She hadn’t decided yet! Forget the fact that it’s a little silly to phrase things as though your opinion might impact objective truth, I was stunned by the realization that in most denominations a theologically-earnest person has to examine every single matter of dogma and determine her position. You can’t, if you’re being intellectually honest, accept anything on the authority of your church because your church doesn’t claim to have any authority and probably doesn’t have any official teaching on most points.

I’m exhausted just thinking about it. The logical result of sola Scriptura is that you have to examine all of Scripture for the answer to any doctrinal question.3 Being the kind of person I am, I would have felt compelled to figure out the answer to every question–without any authority to point me in the right direction. What an exhausting prospect! It’s not necessarily easier to submit to the Church on difficult matters, but it has the benefit of being right.

Romans 12 2It’s not just confusion that the Church’s authority protects us from–it’s that powerful temptation to ignore Paul4 and conform to the world. I think we see it most powerfully these days in the matter of contraception.5

Prior to 1930, every single Christian denomination unequivocally condemned contraception. After all, hadn’t St. John Chrysostom declared in the 4th century that contraception was worse than murder?6 And Caesarius in the 6th?7 And doesn’t it seem significant that the only time anyone in Scripture contracepts he gets struck dead for it?8

But there was pressure from society (not least, I’m sure, from the esteemed Ms. Sanger of Planned Parenthood and eugenics fame) and the Church of England caved, declaring in 1930 that contraception was acceptable in marriage when absolutely necessary.

By the time 1968 rolled around and Pope Paul VI reminded everybody once again that this isn’t going to change, every mainstream Protestant denomination accepted contraception. Most even taught that contracepting was the responsible thing to do, an essential element of good stewardship.

Source
Source

That’s a complete 180 in less than 50 years. And still the Catholic Church stands strong, telling us again and again that sex was created to bring life into the world, pointing out the terrible damage that contraception can do to a marriage and to unborn children and to our bodies as well as to our souls. With all the pressure society is putting on us to stay out of the bedroom or to recognize birth control as a human right, still our Church holds to what is true. Praise God for a Church with authority and the guts to exercise it.

2. Perseverance

For a good 50 years now the Church has been fighting societal pressures to cave on the contraception thing. But now we’re fighting the government. I’m sure you know all about the HHS Mandate–how it’s requiring businesses and non-profits to violate their consciences by providing their employees with insurance that covers contraception and abortifacients. If not, catch up here.9

But I think that after last summer’s protests and Fortnight for Freedom we thought that it was over. As it happens, it’s only just beginning. August 1 marks the date when non-profits will have to start paying hefty fines–up to $100 per person per day, as best I can tell–for refusing to comply. No matter that employees covered by the mandated insurance are likely making more than enough money to buy their own birth control. Or that they could choose to work somewhere that doesn’t object to this requirement. Or that birth control is never medically necessary given that abstinence is vastly more effective in preventing pregnancy.10 Our government has decided that contraception is basic healthcare and can’t for a moment understand why anyone would object.

right to contracept iusenfp

They thought we’d back down. That after 2,000 years of standing strong the prospect of fines and awkwardness would convince us to change our teaching–or at least to look the other way while funding evil. They thought we’d be convinced by their rhetoric: “Religious freedom doesn’t mean that you get to make choices for other people based on your religion.”

But we’re not. We’re not trying to limit anyone’s access to birth control, just refusing to provide it or pay for it ourselves. And as Christians–as Americans–we refuse to allow our government to require that we violate our consciences.

As our government has pushed and cajoled and threatened, our bishops have grown stronger. They’ve stood together and refused to back down. They’ve promised that they will shut down every Catholic institution before they will betray their faith. As the world closes in, the Church is closing ranks and rather than bow to the idol of free love we’re getting ready to take up our crosses.

3. Persecution

So everybody and his mother is suing the government. And we Catholics in the pew, we sit and wait. But the atmosphere in this legal waiting room isn’t nervous. It’s more–well, excited. We may not want to die for our faith–most of us would much rather not suffer even financial setbacks for our faith–but we’re willing to. And after a lifetime of being tolerated by society, we’re ready to fight. We’re ready to join the ranks of our fathers in suffering for our faith.

Tertullian wasn’t kidding when he said that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. In every era, the persecuted Church has flourished while the complacent Church has faded. In some situations, the blood of the martyrs quite literally made new Saints–when he was beheaded, Edmund Campion’s blood splashed on a worldly Henry Walpole. Walpole left his empty life and became a practicing Catholic, a priest, a martyr, and a Saint.

Okay, maybe it’s not really persecution yet. It’s just ridicule and fines and possible imprisonment. Probably nobody’s going to die. But the fact remains, as I’ve said before, that the approaching discomfort will separate the wheat from the chaff. Maybe, when we’re all done pretending to be politically correct and the gloves finally come off, people who are mostly Catholic but not in the bedroom or at a steakhouse on Ash Wednesday or alone with a computer–maybe they’ll realize that this Catholic thing is either everything or it’s nothing. Maybe they’ll decide that it’s worth fighting for when they see people being fired and bankrupted and jailed for their convictions. Maybe when it stops being so easy to be Catholic people will see how good hard is.

And maybe people who call themselves Catholic but only show up at Mass twice a year or dissent from the Church’s teaching or live in unrepentant, manifest grave sin will let go of the moniker they hold so dear. Maybe we’ll be rid of all the politicians who tell us that they’re devout Catholics and that’s why they fight for abortion on demand. Maybe our dear friend Piers Morgan will decide that calling himself a Catholic isn’t getting him ratings or street cred or whatever he’s looking for and will own up to the fact that he doesn’t much believe in Catholicism and that’s okay because it’s his own business.11 Maybe all those Catholics on the fence will pick a side–for or against.

truth stomach Flannery O'ConnorBut whether or not the upcoming persecution gains strength, whether or not the Supreme Court overturns the HHS Mandate, whether or not our Bishops are in jail in ten years, our Church will continue to teach truth. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s unpopular. Even when the whole world stands against us–Christians and non-Christians alike–we will speak truth into a world of falsehood. Because our Lord promised. “The gates of hell will not prevail against it,” he said of our Church, and he was right. Not Diocletian’s hell, not Good Queen Bess’s hell, not Lenin’s or Stalin’s or Mao’s hell, and not the hell we see in the world today. Our Church will fight and our Church will win and a thousand years from now Catholic schoolchildren will roll their eyes at being made to remember Sebelius and Pelosi in a world where Humanae Vitae is just one document in a long line of repetitive statements about contraception.

I praise God for a Church that can discern, by the power of the Holy Spirit, what is true, that refuses to back down when challenged and threatened, and that rejoices even in the suffering occasioned by our commitment to the truth. Pray with me, friends, for the Supreme Court, the Church, and our nation. These are difficult times. May we stand firm in our faith and emerge from this time of trial purified.

Oh, and if the NSA is reading this–along with my mundane emails and my snarky Facebook statuses–let me just say:

bring it on 2

Linking up with Micaela and a bunch of other people whose posts are assuredly less combative and controversial than this one. But that’s just how I roll.

3reasonsAnd now watch an atheist school a Catholic on what it means to be a Catholic. You’re going to love this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsqzCDaS5uI

  1. I know this is an appalling and unnecessarily large word, but it fit so well with the other two that I had to go with it. And I wish I could have listed it third so you would see why I used it but I had to be systematic and explain why we’re right first. So…sorry not sorry? [↩]
  2. Who are we kidding? I’d do the same thing today. [↩]
  3. There’s also the concern that some central Christian truths aren’t overtly in Scripture and that you don’t have a Bible without the Church…. [↩]
  4. Rom 12:2 [↩]
  5. You knew I’d get to the point eventually! [↩]
  6. “Indeed, it is something worse than murder and I do not know what to call it; for she does not kill what is formed but prevents its formation” [↩]
  7. “No woman may take a potion so that she is unable to conceive….  As often as she could have conceived or given birth, of that many homicides she will be held guilty….  If a woman does not wish to have children, let her enter into a religious agreement with her husband; for chastity is the sole sterility of a Christian woman.” [↩]
  8. Gen 38:9-10 [↩]
  9. Really–I wrote this one before anybody really read this blog, so check it out. [↩]
  10. I understand that this is a difficult issue and that abstinence may not be an option in abusive relationships, but why is our response to this contraception and not helping women get out of these relationships? And I know that complete abstinence in marriage is very, very difficult and generally unhealthy for the marriage but why is it the Church’s job to provide you with contraception? [↩]
  11. See video below. Love it! [↩]

Is Jesus God? (Part 2: Was Jesus Just a Good Guy?)

(If you want to know why you should trust anything the Gospels say, check out Part 1: What Good Are the Gospels?)

I was talking recently to a girl from Boulder whose mother was Buddhist while her father was Mormon. Needless to say, she had an interesting take on religion. When I asked her thoughts on Christianity, she had this to say:

“I mean, Jesus was a BAMF.1 Like, he was totally awesome. I really respect the guy. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to worship him.”

Okay, ignore the language and look at the point she’s trying to make. Essentially, she’s arguing (like so many secular humanists) that Jesus was a great moral teacher but not divine. You know, like those people who say, “I’m all about the love and forgiveness that Jesus taught, just not all those rules.” Like Jesus was some kind of hippie peace and loving everybody and too high to care that they’re sinning. Like he didn’t turn over tables and call people whitewashed tombs. Like he didn’t tell people to quit sinning.

If you like
If you like Catholic Memes, you’ll love #ThingsJesusNeverSaid

Read the Gospels and then tell me Jesus was just a really nice guy.

See, the Gospels don’t show a nice guy. A kind guy, yes. A loving guy, certainly. But so much more than that. The Gospels show a guy who claimed to be God. Sure, he never said “I am God.” But if you pay attention, there’s plenty in the Gospels that’s more than just nice, plenty that’s appalling and horrifying and insane or offensive–unless it’s true.

The Father and I are one.” (Jn 10:30)

  • Wouldn’t mean a lot coming from a Buddhist, but for Jews, God was wholly other. You wouldn’t claim oneness with God as a Jewish man–not ever. Unless, of course, you actually were one with God. Like in a “the Word was with God and the Word was God” (Jn 1:1) kind of a way, not a “make me one with everything” kind of a way.

a way“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (Jn 14:6)

  • He’s not an option. He’s claiming to be the only way to God. And not just to possess truth but to be truth. I can’t really see a “nice guy” like Tom Hanks saying something like this and not getting shredded in the tabloids for it.

“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.” (Jn 6:54-57)

  • Let’s imagine I came to your church to give a talk and said this. You wouldn’t get on Facebook afterwards and say, “There was this great woman who gave a talk at our church today! She was really funny and so interesting. I mean, she was a little off on some things, but overall, awesome.” No! You’d be like, “There was this crazy chick who told me I was gonna burn in hell if I didn’t take a bite of her arm. So strange.”

And then there’s the kicker, the occasion of my all-time favorite G.K. Chesterton quotation2:

“Before Abraham was, I AM.”

  • Sounds like Jesus needs to brush up on his grammar–what’s with mixing past and present verbs there, bud? Remember back in Sunday School when you learned that God’s name was I AM? Jesus isn’t only claiming pre-existence here, or even insisting that he’s greater than the greatest patriarch–he’s doing it while claiming God’s name for himself. It’s like your punk 15-year-old cousin was talking smack before a pick-up game of basketball: “Jordan ain’t got nothin’ on me–I invented Michael Jordan and made LeBron James with the leftover scraps.” Funny, right? Now imagine he meant it. He seriously just told you he’s better at basketball than Jordan and James–and that he existed before them and created them. You’d make him pee in a cup, right? Because this last one, this “almost careless” remark–this is earth-shattering.

If you need more, you’re welcome to check out John 10:9, 28, 36, 38; Luke 5:20; Matthew 25:31-46; John 11:25-26; Matthew 26:27-28;  Matthew 28:18-20; John 5:21-23, 26; John 17:5, 21-22; and John 8:12, 24, among plenty of others. I’m particularly impressed by how often Jesus claims that he can forgive sins and that he’s the only way to salvation. Kind of a jerk thing to say if he’s wrong….3

See, if Jesus said these things–and step one of this argument made it hard to claim that he didn’t–then he couldn’t have been just a nice guy, just a great moral teacher. As C.S. Lewis explained, if he claimed to be God, he was either a lunatic, a liar, or the Lord.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.’  That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher.  He would either be a lunatic—on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the son of God: or else a madman or something worse.  You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God.  But let us not come up with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” -C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity.

Hannibal Lecter Rainbow BriteReally–read those verses again. That guy was either tin-foil-hat crazy or so evil he’d make Hannibal Lecter look like Rainbow Brite. He sure as heck wasn’t some sweet sage hugging trees and snuggling puppies.

To be honest, my Buddhist-Mormon-Boulder friend had it partially right–Jesus was a pretty hardcore guy. But he made it very clear that if you weren’t going to worship him you shouldn’t bother paying him lip service. As Chesterton said,4 “It were better to rend our robes with a great cry against blasphemy, like Caiaphas in the judgement, or to lay hold of the man as a maniac possessed of devils like the kinsmen and the crowd, rather than to stand stupidly debating fine shades of pantheism in the presence of so catastrophic a claim.” Or, in simpler words, “Whoever is not with me is against me” (Lk 11:23).

At first glance, this simple little “trilemma” seems to resolve itself. People want to respect Jesus, they want to like him. Nobody who reads the Gospels comes away thinking he was loony or demonic. Your gut tells you this guy wasn’t a lunatic. Lunatics are erratic, irrational, incoherent; Jesus comes across as a clever, deliberate, reasonable guy. He out thinks the Sadducees (Lk 20:20-26, Mk 12:18-27) and the Pharisees (Mk 2:23-28, Lk 20:1-8), educated men who were hell-bent on trapping him. His explanations are clear, his actions purposeful. He doesn’t read like a lunatic.

And he sure doesn’t read like a liar. The reason people think Jesus is just all bunnies and rainbows is that he really was–among other things–kind and loving. He preaches love and mercy and holiness. He raises the dead and heals the blind and consoles sinful women. Sure, he could be the most brilliant con man there’s ever been, but any reader of the Gospels knows that there’s something off about that accusation. There’s a reason that even people who reject the central meaning of his life still put him on their imaginary dinner party guest list.

So he doesn’t feel like a lunatic and he doesn’t feel like a liar. But you know I’m not going to leave you with just vague feelings based on stories written about some of the things Jesus did. If I’m going to be a street-preaching hobo for this guy, I want some pretty clear proof that he is who he says he is. For that, though, you’ll have to wait for part 3, which I’ll try to crank out in less than the month that this post took me.

In other news:

Yup. I stayed two rooms down from Cardinal Burke. Kissed his ring, got his blessing, and stood next to him while we prayed vespers. The hierarchy totally makes me giddy like a Catholic fangirl. Follow me on Facebook to keep up with all my crazy adventures--like shooting my first gun, playing in the snow in June, and finding lilacs all over the country!
Yup. I stayed two rooms down from Cardinal Burke. Kissed his ring, got his blessing, and stood next to him while we prayed vespers. The hierarchy totally makes me giddy like a Catholic fangirl.

Follow me on Facebook to keep up with all my crazy adventures–like shooting my first gun, playing in the snow in June, and finding lilacs all over the country!

  1. Bad-a@#$ mother-f$#^%*#$, for those of you who don’t speak hipster. Pronounced pretty much like Banff, Alberta, Canada. [↩]
  2. Above all, would not such a new reader of the New Testament stumble over something that would startle him much more than it startles us? I have here more than once attempted the rather impossible task of reversing time and the historic method; and in fancy looking forward to the facts, instead of backward through the memories. So I have imagined the monster that man might have seemed at first to the mere nature around him. We should have a worse shock if we really imagined the nature of Christ named for the first time. What should we feel at the first whisper of a certain suggestion about a certain man? Certainly it is not for us to blame anybody who should find that first wild whisper merely impious and insane. On the contrary, stumbling on that rock of scandal is the first step. Stark staring incredulity is a far more loyal tribute to that truth than a modernist metaphysic that would make it out merely a matter of degree. It were better to rend our robes with a great cry against blasphemy, like Caiaphas in the judgement, or to lay hold of the man as a maniac possessed of devils like the kinsmen and the crowd, rather than to stand stupidly debating fine shades of pantheism in the presence of so catastrophic a claim. There is more of the wisdom that is one with surprise in any simple person, full of the sensitiveness of simplicity, who should expect the grass to wither and the birds to drop dead out of the air, when a strolling carpenter’s apprentice said calmly and almost carelessly, like one looking over his shoulder: ‘Before Abraham was, I am.’ [↩]
  3. We’re so used to these verses, they tend not to shock us. If you want to get a real feel for how appalling Jesus was, read Eli by Bill Myers. It sets Jesus’ coming in the late 20th century. As I read it, I found myself getting angrier and angrier at the Jesus character. How dare he say those things?? Then I remembered that he was supposed to be Jesus and that was exactly the point. [↩]
  4. In the passage that I already put in a footnote but what if you don’t read the footnotes? It’s too good not to share. [↩]

One Year and Counting

Well, friends, it’s been a year. One year of crazy-driving, blogging, speaking, couch-crashing, hobo fun. When I started this ministry a year ago, I figured that I’d live out of my car for a month or two before settling down. But the longer I do this, the more I feel like this might be a long-term thing. The Lord doesn’t seem to like it when I plan, so I have no idea what “long term” means, but…well, a while.

So what have I done this year?

  • Taken up permanent residence in my car
  • Started a Facebook page and a Twitter account
  • Gotten a cell phone
  • Visited 37 states (should be up to at least 44 by the end of the summer–New England, here I come!)
  • Spoken in 14 states
  • Put 30,000 miles on my car
  • Spoken to thousands of people from age 3 to 97
  • Done one-on-one ministry with dozens of people
  • Written 128 blog posts
  • Had 215,000 page views
  • Racked up 500 likes on my Facebook page
  • Done a whole lot of discerning
  • Stayed with dozens of friends and strangers who became friends
  • Taken a break to help my sister with her million babies
  • Ignored trolls
  • Persevered through a lot of boring prayer
  • Walked in both (American) oceans and the Gulf of Mexico
  • Gone from the Redwood forest to the Gulf Sea waters
  • Had more than my fair share of car trouble
  • Been shocked by the generosity of God’s people
  • Learned to accept generosity
  • Given plenty of talks that were so Spirit-led I wanted to stop and ask someone to record them just so I could listen and learn later
  • Fallen flat and remembered that it’s not about me
  • Made people cry
  • Made people angry
  • Begun to realize that whatever I might believe about myself, nobody else thinks I’m needy and self-obsessed
  • Felt absolutely wanted
  • Felt completely disregarded
  • Been terrified but hopeful1
  • Made plans 6 months in advance
  • Given a talk with 10 seconds notice
  • Changed the topic of my talk five minutes in
  • Been recognized by a stranger
  • Been on the radio
  • Been nominated for an award
  • Driven 12-hour-days without batting an eye
  • Experienced Providence at work every single day–in crazy ways
  • Spent January in Virginia, Georgia, Hawaii, and Florida
  • Spent February in Indiana and northern Ohio
  • Seen snow in May
  • Almost passed out from heat exhaustion a week later
  • Gotten 3 new nieces
  • Had so much work to do I’m exhausted
  • Had so little work to do I’m bored out of my mind
  • Tried and tried and tried to trust and let Him lead

Thank you to everyone who’s invited me to speak or shared my blog or commented or liked a post or followed me on Facebook or slipped some money into my hand or thanked me for speaking or shared your heart with me or prayed for me or prayed with me for others or loved and supported me in any way. If I didn’t have y’all supporting me, I couldn’t do anything. God is using you and your openness and kindness and generosity to do (I hope) good work in this world. Thank you.

And now, a little slide show of highlights from this year:

Become a godmother again
Become a godmother again
Been so fun--and sober.
Been so fun–and sober
Had fun with the big kids
And the littles. And Charlotte who I know I have a picture with but I can't find it right now.
And the littles. And Charlotte who I know I have a picture with but I can’t find it right now
Dealt with a lot of snow.
Dealt with a lot of snow
Gotten stuck in the mud.
Gotten stuck in the mud
Been to some very random states
Been to some very random states
Preached on the streets
Preached on the streets
And the beach
And the beach
Met up with former students all over the country
Met up with former students all over the country
Stood inside a redwood
Stood inside a redwood

And a million other things I forgot to take pictures of. Keep on praying for me, friends!

  1. For those who are wondering, John’s out of the ICU and in a neurological rehab facility. His parents are optimistic and there have been plenty of miracles but not (yet) the miracle of a full recovery–or even of speech. Please keep praying. [↩]

The Parable of the Parking Ticket

Tightwad GazetteI was raised cheap. I mean it–my mother had a subscription to The Tightwad Gazette, which sounds like a joke, but it was a real newsletter. Don’t worry, though; she got her subscription free. I was checking unit pricing before most kids even knew that different coins have different values. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m very grateful that I was taught to live frugally.1 When you’re a hobo, a taste for the finer things in life can really mess with your bottom line.

One problem with being such a natural cheapskate is that unforeseen expenses really shake me. Even if I have the money, having to shell out for something I wasn’t anticipating stresses me out more than anything.2 I get tense and anxious and feel almost guilty. It’s a little bit ridiculous.

So you can imagine what parking tickets do to me. Especially parking tickets a week after I had to get all new tires and rims.3

My new BFF Nicole came with me. I say she's my new BFF because I met her once and she decided to book me to speak at her church and at a youth conference and then she took me to the beach and helped me make signs and took me to In-n-Out and is basically awesome.
My new BFF Nicole came evangelizing with me. I say she’s my new BFF because I met her once and she decided to book me to speak at her church and at a youth conference and then she took me to the beach and helped me make signs and took me to In-n-Out and is basically awesome.

After a lovely afternoon evangelizing the Santa Monica Pier, I came back to the miserable sight of a slip of paper under my windshield wiper. And despite my disbelief, there was, in fact, a sign 10 feet behind my car that pointed out two different parking rules I was breaking. So I couldn’t even be outraged. Sigh.

I tried to be okay with it, despite the large price tag attached to my complete failure to check for restrictions. I tried to tell myself that it’s not that much money, that it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, that I should never let anything rob me of my joy, blah, blah, blah.

But what I really needed was prayer. Fortunately, I was headed (after sitting in traffic for an hour and a half) to see Jesus. And it’s a good thing, too, because he had quite a lot to say to me.

You know how I do that read-the-Bible-in-a-year thing? Are you doing it with me? Because here’s the first thing I read, sitting tense and frustrated in the Church courtyard:

“You also are now in anguish. But I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take that joy from you.” (John 16:22)

Double sigh. Yeah, I get it. The stupid parking ticket doesn’t matter. What matters is Christ and rejoicing in him and getting to heaven one day and whatever.

Then I saw that I had drawn in an asterisk and written a note in the margin:

Easter joy

Can you read that? It says “Don’t let anything rob you of Easter joy.” Okay, fine. Got it. Still joyful even though I was a moron and got that stupid ticket.

But God, apparently, wasn’t okay with my pretense of peace. Reading to the end of the chapter, I saw this:

“In the world you will have trouble, but take courage: I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33)

I’d been sitting there worrying–unnecessarily because God and his people are so generous and even on a natural level I have nothing to worry about–about how I have to pay this ticket and I don’t have the money for it (which I do) and I’m not going to make any more money (which I will) and what am I going to do? Now, I know rationally that this ticket is not a huge deal, but I was feeling so anxious and I had to have something to feel anxious about, so apparently I decided on this. And God told me, very clearly, that he’s got this. That I might run into some financial issues but it’s never going to be a problem, just like it’s never been a problem in the past. Not a problem he can’t handle, anyway.

Okay, I thought, I get it. Really, this time. There’s no earthly reason for me to be so stressed about this and every heavenly reason for me not to be. Jesus, I trust in you. We’re good.

But God in his mercy (and maybe in his irony) wasn’t finished with me yet. Turn with me to the proverb on my schedule for today:

“It is the Lord’s blessing that brings wealth and no effort can substitute for it.” (Proverbs 10:22)

I put this neat filter on the picture so it would look as ominous as it did to me this afternoon. Clever, huh?
I put this neat filter on the picture so it would look as ominous as it did to me this afternoon. Clever, huh?

Friends, I can’t make these things up! I literally flipped to a passage that told me specifically that all the money I have comes from God and I have no business freaking out about it. Because being as cheap as I am isn’t about prudence, it’s about control. And, as in all things, I am not in control. Everything I have comes from the hand of the Lord. He’s always reminding me of this, although he’s usually a little subtler about it. But a hard head like mine doesn’t respond well to subtle. Give me a parking ticket, though, and I sit up and take notice.

So I guess my point is one I’ve made often before (and clearly ignored in my own life): trust God. Even when there’s money involved. Even when the mess you’re in is your own stupid fault. Even when it just seems like one thing after another after another. And especially when he smacks you upside the head with your Bible. Because today’s “catastrophe” won’t look like much in a few weeks. And today’s actual disaster won’t look like much from the other side of your judgment. But the love of God, his providence, his sacrifice for you? Nothing will take that joy from you. Take courage; he has conquered the world. And its parking tickets.

 

P.S. I haven’t forgotten about that divinity of Christ series. It’s just that things keep happening that I want to tell you guys about!

  1. Really. Thanks, Mama! [↩]
  2. Except running through the airport knowing I’m going to miss my flight. That is the worst! [↩]
  3. Speaking of which, anyone looking for a set of used Mazda3 rims? 3 in good condition. The other was the occasion of the aforementioned ridiculous expenditure…. [↩]

Evangelizing Vegas

After last week’s pleasant experience in Utah, I expected a rude awakening when I repeated the experiment in Vegas. As it turns out, my street evangelization in Sin City was rather less eventful than anticipated–but no less fruitful.

Vegas evangelization
I think I was wearing more clothes than anyone I saw all day. And more than some whole groups of people combined.

On Sunday, I joined up the with St. Paul Street Evangelization Las Vegas team, headed up by the inestimable Ed Graveline. We met at the Mirage hotel and set up camp in 100 degree weather in direct sunlight out on The Strip. Not gonna do much good if there isn’t any sacrifice, after all. We set up a sign that said “Catholic Truth” and offered free rosaries to people who passed by. If they accepted, we gave them a pamphlet about how to pray the rosary and asked if they were Catholic. The conversation went from there.

I was surprised by the number of people who stopped. I seemed to be particularly good at getting groups of young men to stop–leftover skills from my years of obsessing over boys, I suppose. Unfortunately, most of them just wanted to chat with the girl who was handing out free stuff–with all her clothes on, which must have been a surprise in Vegas. I’ve learned something very important from this: if I’m going to do street evangelization, I need a copy of my business card that doesn’t have my phone number. A few of these guys seemed genuinely interested and might have checked out some stuff on my blog but I was not about to go handing out my phone number indiscriminately to groups of guys who had just spent the weekend in Vegas. I didn’t give out my number to guys when I was dating–it’s definitely not happening now.

One of these guys was Catholic. When he told me he hadn't been to Mass yet that day, I pointed out the Cathedral and told him what time Mass was that evening. I may have begged him to go...but I don't think I came off pathetic.
One of these guys was Catholic. When he told me he hadn’t been to Mass yet that day, I pointed out the Cathedral and told him what time Mass was that evening. I may have begged him to go…but I don’t think I came off pathetic.

Aside from the flirting men, there were plenty of people who stopped to talk. One family wanted rosaries for all their kids. Another lady asked for one; “I’m not Catholic,” she said, “just open-minded.” Plenty of people told me they go to Mass “sometimes” but nobody seemed upset when I suggested they go every week. “You’re required to spend 57 hours a year in church,” I always say. “That’s less than one percent of your life. Doesn’t God deserve that?”

I was expecting more animosity–more accusations of sexism or pedophilia. But everybody who stopped was friendly–and even the people who kept walking did no worse than avoid eye contact. I think sometimes the internet poisons our view of humanity. So many people are anti-Catholic when commenting on blogs, but maybe it’s not so much conviction as anonymity that fuels their rage. I don’t tend to view myself as persecuted or rejected; the non-Christians I know are generally very open to hearing about my life and very kind even when they think I’m deluded. But I figured my friends were just particularly lovely and that the minute I stood up in Sin City with a sign bearing the images of Jesus and Mary I’d be in for it. Not only were there no furious non-Catholics, though, I didn’t even encounter any disgruntled Catholics. One woman told me sadly that she used to go to Mass every week but the priests only cared about the people with money. Not an objection I’d heard before but I could tell it was coming from a place of hurt and so I apologized to her and told her the Church wanted her back. She thanked me and continued on her way; who knows what that moment of love might have done?

IMG950817My favorite encounter of the day was with a group of twenty-somethings. Two weren’t really interested, but a young American man and a young British woman had tons of questions. Both were very interested in learning more about how to pray the rosary; there was a real hunger in the man’s voice as he said he knew he needed more prayer in his life. Neither was Catholic but they promised to read the pamphlets and start praying. I challenged them to pray every day–the Rosary, time in Scripture, silent meditation, whatever.

The young woman was a member of the Church of England and wanted to know why the Church couldn’t accept homosexuality and abortion–which meant she was wondering why Catholics couldn’t accept homosexuals and post-abortive women. I got her to agree that it’s wrong to kill an innocent human being, then explained that we believe that an unborn baby is a human being. That said, I emphasized, Jesus came in mercy and forgiveness and wants us to love each other. “Oh,” she said. “So you tell people that abortion is wrong, but if they do it, you forgive them?” Exactly!

When we moved on to homosexuality, I explained that a third of what the Catechism teaches about homosexuality is that homophobia is gravely wrong. It’s always our job to love people, never to judge. Every single person I know is a sinner and I refuse to let those people be defined by their sins–I just love them. (Basically, I paraphrased this post.) She seemed really pleased to know that authentic Christianity really does love the sinner and hate the sin. The young man wanted to know if it was okay to be ignorant about Jesus and religion and I told him that I thought he wanted better than that. We can’t really know Jesus if we don’t bother learning anything about him. After about fifteen minutes, I gave them both my card so they could read more about apologetics. Both promised to pray and research–are you guys reading this?

Courtesy of the fabulous St. Lawrence Center at KU.
Courtesy of the fabulous St. Lawrence Center at KU.

The afternoon was incredibly fruitful. I must have spoken at some length to a good thirty people. But I can’t take the street evangelization team with me every time I go, so the next night I hit The Strip on my own, sporting my red Catholic shirt again. I set up shop by the incredible Bellagio fountains–by which I mean I put down my purse and stood awkwardly in my shirt waiting for someone to take pity on me and strike up a conversation.

It didn’t take long. Martin, a young Evangelical from Belgium, stopped to commend me on my work. “You evangelicals are usually much better at evangelizing than Catholics are,” I said. “I don’t know,” he replied. “You’re the one out here in that shirt. Not me.” We talked for a bit about being Christian but there was an older gentleman hovering, clearly wanting to ask a question, so I said goodbye to Martin, encouraged by his support and his promised prayers.

What followed was long and incoherent and culminated in this question:

As a Catholic, what’s your position on secondhand smoke?

And it just got less relevant. For twenty minutes, he talked about all the things that are wrong with the world and I nodded. I could tell that he just wanted someone to listen to him and I was happy to be that person. It wasn’t even too tough not to be frustrated at how he was “wasting my time” since I knew that probably nobody else would have been talking to me anyway.

After he left, I waited, trying not to be overwhelmed by scantily-clad showgirls and teenage girls and middle-aged ladies. As it turns out, Vegas street evangelization is 5% evangelization, 10% hoping someone will stop to talk, and 85% trying not to judge people for their clothes. An hour (and four fountain shows) after my secondhand smoke conversation, I headed home.

I repeated the experiment this afternoon and found myself again serving as a listening ear to someone who’s ignored. Robin was standing on the sidewalk trying to sell me a Bible; when I told her I already had one on me, she went on to talk about how important God is. She had a beautiful spirit and a real love of God and if the only reason the Lord sent me to Vegas was to affirm her love of him, it was well worth it.

But three conversations in an hour and a half isn’t doing it for me. I think the shirt is part of the problem. The message is only visible from one side and it’s not in-your-face enough that people believe I really mean it. So I’m thinking of ordering something like this:

Let's imagine that the v-neck isn't quite as deep as it looks.
Let’s imagine that the v-neck isn’t quite as deep as it looks.

Or maybe “Free prayers” on the front. That’s a less confrontational opening and might just lead to fellowship and listening to people who are struggling and straight up praying over people on the street and I love that kind of stuff!

But that shirt is super dull and I have zero design skills. So I’m not sure it would be much better.

Then there’s the question of posture. Standing seems to be more effective than sitting. But what do I do with my arms? Should I make eye contact? Maybe even ask people if they have questions?1 What I’m telling you is I’d love some input. I may try this in L.A. next week–maybe on Venice Beach? I don’t really know anything about the West Coast–and I’d like to be a little less bored.

I don’t know how to be effective–but I think this is something the Lord has called me to. And the beauty of following him is that I don’t have to know what he’s trying to accomplish, I just have to do what he asks. Maybe there’s one conversation I’ll have that will make the whole thing worthwhile. Maybe the point of the exercise is to shut up and be a witness.2 Maybe it’s just about obedience in a seemingly futile task. Maybe it’s about embracing awkwardness. It doesn’t really matter why the Lord has me doing this–what matters is that he does (I think) and that I want to be the best I can for him. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!

  1. I don’t know if I can do this. I felt so totally in-your-face the first time I wore the shirt, I’m pretty sure that if I tried to stand by myself and address strangers I’d just shrivel up into a ball. [↩]
  2. I’m not so great at shutting up. This should be good for me. [↩]

Adventures of a Catholic in Mormonland

If you follow me on Facebook (and you should), you know that I spent Thursday and Friday wandering around Utah in this shirt:

Courtesy of the fabulous St. Lawrence Center at KU.
Courtesy of the fabulous St. Lawrence Center at KU.

I figured Mormons understand evangelization and wouldn’t be offended by my offer of dialogue–but I ran it by some LDS friend first to be sure. They thought people would be far more curious than offended, so off I went. When I got to Temple Square on Thursday afternoon, I went straight to the visitors’ center to ask for a tour. But I’m not a jerk, so I told the missionary there who I am:

“Just so you know, I’m a Catholic missionary. I don’t want to step on any toes but I’ve got some pretty deep questions that I haven’t been able to find answers to in my research.”

I totally forgot to take a picture of the Temple. But this lady didn't!
I totally forgot to take a picture of the Temple. But this lady didn’t!

Every time I met a different missionary, I told her something along these lines–I didn’t want anyone to feel ambushed when I started asking for answers beyond the basics. Unfortunately, anything beyond the basics was met with confusion. One missionary told me she was a polytheist, another said she definitely wasn’t. They didn’t know if their Prophet was infallible and didn’t want to say if Heavenly Father had a father. They didn’t know the formula for baptism and were pretty sure they don’t pray to Jesus. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I wasn’t going to get my confusion about Mormon doctrine resolved here.

But let’s be fair: how many 20-year-old Catholics could answer hard questions like that? I would hope that the ones who are in full-time ministry would have a grasp on theology, but if mission work is pretty much expected, as it is in the LDS church, there’s no guarantee of any theological sophistication in any given missionary. And I think they were told not to answer complex questions, which actually makes a lot of sense to me. Mormon theology can sound pretty crazy–as can any theology if you’re not used to it; after all, I worship a cracker. And these ladies aren’t just random Mormon girls trying to answer a question–they’re wearing name tags, which makes them authorities in the eyes of the world. So if they try to answer one of the harder questions and mess it up hardcore, they just further the stereotype of crazy Mormons.

Seriously, these Mormons know from flowers.
Seriously, these Mormons know from flowers.

Rather than give a wrong (or even unclear)  answer, they just don’t touch the tough stuff. I can understand. And I didn’t go there to destroy anyone’s faith, so I admired the landscaping, listened to their heartfelt testimonies, talked about how faith makes trials bearable, rejoiced in our mutual love of the Lord, collected my free Book of Mormon, and moved on.

The next hour wandering Temple Square elicited no questions except from one Protestant (about whom more another time). So home I went, hoping for a busier day at BYU on Friday.

After my uninformative evening at Temple Square, I figured my best bet would be to approach a theology professor at BYU–surely those guys would have answers. And friends, I was not disappointed. My hosts had recommended that I speak with their neighbor, Alonzo Gaskill, a Mormon professor of World Religions and convert from Greek Orthodoxy. From the moment he opened the door, I was blown away.

Seriously, this guy is one of my favorite people I’ve met all year. He spent three hours–THREE HOURS–answering all of my questions and asking all about me and sharing his testimony and offering to pray for me and even–after THREE HOURS of helping me understand Mormonism–making a donation to my ministry. Really, a prince among men.

But I wouldn’t recommend that any of you talk to him. Because Prof. Gaskill is really convincing. I mean, I think I emerged fairly unscathed (although you can always pray for my faith and perseverance), but this guy absolutely obliterated the stereotpye that Mormonism is irrational or incoherent. He was using Scripture and the Fathers and doing a fantastic job. And he was kind and reasonable and interested in answering my actual question, not the question he wanted to answer. He wanted my opinions on things and appreciated it when I corrected his understanding of Catholicism. He clearly respects the Catholic Church and respected me as a Catholic and as an intellectual. Maybe one day I’ll write something for y’all about Mormonism but for now suffice it to say that it’s a lot closer to orthodox Christianity than I ever thought possible but that I’m still not convinced.1

Coming off of that high, I went back out on campus. I’d wandered for an hour earlier, feeling super-awkward and in-your-face in my shirt, but nobody had approached me. This time, I tried standing by a bench praying a rosary. I think it was pretty clear that I was waiting for people and this time I had a little more luck: four conversations in two hours.

Interestingly, only one person actually had a question. She wanted to know what rosary beads were, so I explained the rosary and the mysteries and how it’s a Christocentric prayer. She was very attentive and after we talked about her life a little bit, she headed home.

I mean, it's no Notre Dame, but they do have a big mountain with a Y on it, which is pretty sweet. (Source)
I mean, it’s no Notre Dame, but they do have a big mountain with a Y on it, which is pretty sweet. (Source)

The other three conversations were just young men who were trying to be nice. One guy came up to me just because he could tell I wanted to talk to someone so we talked for a while about his life and being a person of faith. I had a similar conversation with another young man who told me that he had stopped because “it’s always good to see someone who takes their faith seriously.”

One young man stopped to chat. When I asked if he had any questions about the Catholic faith, he thought for a minute. “I don’t really know much about it, so…I guess, tell me about Catholicism.” Talk about a broad question! I ended up talking about the Eucharist since I figured trying to explain the differences in our understanding of God would be a bit much. Again, very polite and attentive but I wasn’t trying to convince him, really, and he wasn’t interested in being convinced. So eventually, he moved on, too.

All in all, I had a great afternoon at BYU. I was a bit taken aback by the guy who was doing a magic trick that required girls to kiss him–at BYU, of all places–but the marriage proposal I witnessed later on more than made up for it. I got a few quick greetings and a number of smiles–gotta love friendly Mormons. Nobody was rude to me; even the guy who asked, “Are you really a Catholic?” was being friendly in an odd kind of way. And while I didn’t “accomplish” much while standing around waiting to answer questions people didn’t ask, it was a beautiful day with pleasant people and who knows what the Lord is doing in people’s hearts? I don’t at all expect that people saw my shirt, went home to start Googling, and will be joining RCIA in the fall. But if one person who saw me becomes a better Mormon because of it, it was time well spent.

Next up: Sin City with St. Paul Street Evangelization! Come, Holy Spirit.

  1. Among other reasons: “the gates of hell will not prevail against [the Church]” but it was completely wrong for 1700 years; no first cause; no Real Presence; the King James Version; I’m not convinced by Joseph Smith or his testimony; eternal marriage strikes me as unbiblical; I believe in Ecumenical Councils; I think the Trinity and the Godhead are two completely different concepts and that oneness in being and oneness in purpose are not the same thing; I don’t think the Father was ever human. But man they’re good at families and community and evangelization and modest fashion and just being really good people. [↩]

Is Jesus God? (Part 1: What Good Are the Gospels?)

I’m about as emotional as they come, so when the Lord grabbed my heart he reached right past my brain to do it. I knew him before I knew anything about him. But I’ve always been an intellectual and I knew–even at 13–that if I was going to do this Jesus thing, I was going to do it all out. And if I was going to do it all out, it wasn’t going to be because it felt good to think about Jesus. No, if I was going to give my life to him, I needed to know that he really was God. So I began investigating. I read the Catechism and the Bible and pretty much everything on the internet1 and determined that it came down to this: the men who lived with Jesus, who heard him preach and watched him heal and saw him die and touched his risen body–those guys died to tell that story. It was more complicated than that, of course, but that evidence was enough for me–to begin with.

I’ve spent the ensuing 16 years fleshing it out. What can we know about Jesus? What claims did he make? Where could the body have gone? So here, for your Easter pleasure,2 is a many-part series on the divinity of Christ. Because if Jesus isn’t God, my life is a serious waste.

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

The majority of what we know about Jesus we get from the Gospels. So any argument we make is going to draw heavily from those texts–texts that were clearly written by biased men who were trying to prove that Jesus was God. And yet historians would agree that the Gospels are relatively trustworthy for the major themes and events of Christ’s life. Certainly, a non-Christian reader can’t be expected to believe that Jesus actually raised the dead and walked on water. But it’s clear that he did something unexplainable there, that these are not mere fabrications, and this clarity comes back to the reliability of the Gospels.

1. The Gospels were written shortly after the life of Christ.

A quick Google search will show that the four canonical Gospels were written between 30 and 70 years after the life of Christ. To our modern mind, that’s a lifetime. If I waited to write about my time as a hobo until I was 90 you’d be hard-pressed to believe that it was a terribly accurate account.

Kinda like how all parents on the planet can recite this entire book from memory.
Kinda like how all parents on the planet can recite this entire book from memory.

But the Gospels weren’t written in our information-saturated culture. They were written in an oral culture by a people whose very existence depended on their ability to pass down the story. Men in this culture would sometimes memorize the entire Torah; even today, students of the Talmud perform impressive feats of memory that seem impossible to the rest of us. When the survival of your culture hinges on the ability of ordinary men and women to tell the stories that define you as a people, an excellent memory becomes essential. In the ancient Near East, where most people were illiterate, storytelling was more about truth than about amusement.

To give it a little context, the biography of Alexander the Great was written about 400 years after his death and historians consider it to be historically accurate. In a culture like that, writing 30 years later was practically live tweeting the life of Christ.

2. The Evangelists had access to eyewitness accounts.

When you read the Gospels, they don’t read like fables. They don’t read like legends the way stories of medieval Saints (or apocryphal Gospels) do. They aren’t painted with broad strokes, full of generalizations and exaggerated events. Certainly, a secular historian could discount some of the more impressive miracles as legendary, but even if you take those out what remains is a remarkably detailed account.

Abraham Bloemaert's The Four Evangelists
Abraham Bloemaert’s The Four Evangelists

There are so many details–and unnecessary ones at that–that the reader is left with the sense that he’s reading an eyewitness report. Tradition tells us that Mark was writing Peter’s account and Matthew and John were writing from their own memories. Luke the historian, on the other hand, combined the testimonies of a number of different sources to create his Gospel. But throughout we see little details like the time of day or the number of years someone had suffered or the man running away naked.

Graham Greene’s faith rested in part on these details. When asked what made him a Christian, he answered that aside from meeting Padre Pio, it was the scene in John’s Gospel:

“where the beloved disciple is running with Peter because they’ve heard that the rock has been rolled away from the tomb, and describing how John manages to beat Peter in the race. … It just seems to me to be first-hand reportage, and I can’t help believing it.”

Simplistic as it sounds, there’s much to be said for examining the feel of the Gospels. Particularly when compared with fabricated accounts from the same era, the Gospels stand very clearly as the product of eyewitness accounts.

3. The Evangelists couldn’t have lied.

feeding5000 BassanoDespite the secrecy that shrouds some of Jesus’ claims and even some of his miracles, the majority of Jesus’ actions were too public for the Evangelists to lie; there was too much accountability. Think about it: if they had made up the feeding of the 5000, somebody would have objected: “Dude, I was there.  There were 40 of us and we brought our own snacks.” Or the raising of Lazarus: “Wait, that was me!  I wasn’t dead, I was just napping!” Jesus didn’t work miracles in secret, for the most part. He raised the widow of Nain’s son in the middle of his funeral procession and healed blind men while standing in a crowd. There were too many witnesses to too many events–if the Evangelists had been lying, somebody would have called them out on it.

And while Jesus said many things only to his disciples, his most outrageous claims of divinity came when he had a large and hostile audience. “Before Abraham was, I am,” he said to a crowd of Jews two chapters after declaring that unless they gnawed on his flesh they would burn in hell. If Jesus had just been a “nice guy” talking about love and friendship and forgiveness, those who knew him would have been furious when they heard these words put into his mouth a few decades later. The Evangelists couldn’t have gotten away with such a dramatic change in the character of someone so famous, someone who had boasted so many followers. They may have exaggerated their claims but the general shape of the person they describe must be accurate.

4. They wouldn’t have lied if they could.

I mean, seriously, have you read the Gospels? The Evangelists don’t exactly make themselves and their buddies out to be heroes. What exactly do they have to gain by enshrining their own stupidity and cowardice as Gospel truth? Because really, the Apostles are kind of the doofus all-stars of the Gospels. Jesus predicts the passion and they call shotgun. Or they ask him who’s the best.  Or they tell him they’re going to save him (sure, Peter). How about Mark 8:15-16—like they think they’re in trouble for not bringing snacks right after the multiplication of loaves and fishes?  They run and hide when he’s being crucified.  They don’t buy it when he rises. If you’re going to make up a story about yourself, why look like an idiot?

St. Bartholomew was skinned alive to claim that the story was true.
St. Bartholomew was skinned alive rather than deny that the story was true.

And why make up a faith that’s so hard? If you’re a liar, why set such high standards for yourself? A made-up faith lets you do whatever you want. C.S. Lewis puts it this way:

“If Christianity was something we were making up, of course we could make it easier and simpler. But it IS NOT. We cannot compete, in simplicity, with people who are inventing religions. How could we? We are dealing with Fact. Of course anyone can be simple if he has no facts to bother about.” (Mere Christianity)

But really it comes down to this: why would they die for a lie? Of the surviving 11 Apostles, 10 are martyred.  They tried to kill St. John, but he wouldn’t die.  Why would you make up a story where you sound like an idiot and then give your life to prove that it’s true? People might die for things they don’t know are lies, but they don’t die to prove a lie they made up, especially if they get nothing out of it.

5. The Gospels are telling essentially the same story.

People like to cast doubt on the truth of the Gospels by pointing out that they disagree on details like the date of certain events or their order. But remember that while oral culture is extraordinarily reliable in terms of the big picture, minor details are subject to human error. When we consider the genre of ancient biography, we see that the purpose of a biography in the ancient world wasn’t to give a play-by-play of a person’s life, the way it is now, but to tell the meaning of a person’s life. I’m sure that if you had sat John down and complained to him that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all said that Jesus died during Passover, not on Passover eve, he would have shrugged. What’s significant here is that Jesus is our Paschal Lamb, not the exact date of his demise.

Camera 360When you compare the Gospels, you find that they’re similar enough to confirm one another and different enough to be real. Fabricated accounts tend either to be identical or contradictory; they were either prepared in advance to match and are too good to be true or they’re totally inconsistent (think: the story of Susannah in Daniel 13). When two people who were both eyewitnesses tell a story, the two accounts are mostly the same but not identical–just like the Gospels.

6. Today’s copies are accurate.

It doesn’t do us any good, though, if the Gospels were originally true but were so embellished that they can’t be trusted. There are those who argue that the original copies of the Gospel didn’t make any claims of divinity for Christ but that the idea of his divinity was inserted later by Christians trying to set themselves apart from Jews. So we have to ask: is the Bible I’m reading today essentially the same as what was written nearly 2000 years ago?

Fragment of the Gospel of Matthew from c. 250 AD
Fragment of the Gospel of Matthew from c. 250 AD

This is a fairly easy question to answer since we have very early copies, some from as early as the second century. The earlier the copies, of course, the fewer times they’ve been copied over and the less room there is for scribal error. And we have a large number of copies to compare to one another, a comparison that shows significant agreement between different manuscripts. If we had some Gospels of Mark that don’t tell about the resurrection and some that say Jesus was a duck, we’d probably discount the whole thing.  But, aside from a few minor alterations or omissions, our ancient manuscripts all say the same thing. That naturally helps us to believe they’re the same as the original.

So what?

Naturally, the authenticity of the Gospels doesn’t stand or fall on any of these points individually. “Proving” Christianity isn’t a scientific experiment but a historical one. Our purpose here is to see whether the case for the Gospels is compelling, whether all these facts build to a secular conviction that the Gospels have some historical merit. Taken together, it seems reasonable to assume that the Gospels can generally be trusted.

So the Evangelists knew what they were talking about, they told the truth, and it’s been pretty well-preserved over the centuries. Does that mean the Gospels are Gospel truth? Not at all. Exploring this from a secular perspective, all we’ve determined as that they’re fairly reliable sources for the major events of the life of Christ. So we’re not (yet) going to buy the miracles or the theological assertions of the evangelists. But as objective historians, we can get some general facts about this man from the Gospels:

  • He was an Israelite
  • He had a following
  • His followers believed he had supernatural powers
  • He questioned the status quo of the Jewish faith
  • He changed the rules
  • His followers believed he was the Messiah
  • He claimed to be God
  • He was crucified
  • His body then disappeared
  • His followers claimed that he rose from the dead

But that’s just the beginning of the investigation. Tune in next time when we ask: Was Jesus just a good guy?

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

This being a blog post, it’s obviously a pretty cursory discussion. If you’re interested in greater detail, I highly recommend Lee Strobel’s The Case for Christ.

I’m headed to Utah in a bit, then Vegas and California. If you want more frequent updates on my travels, be sure to follow me on Facebook!

  1. Which, to be fair, was really just Ask Jeeves and some chat rooms at the time. [↩]
  2. Happy Easter! You did know it’s still Easter, right? [↩]

3 Reasons: The Marks of the Church

3reasonsThat title might seem a little off–everyone knows that there are four Marks of the Church. But I’m linking up with Micaela again and she makes the rules: three reasons I love Catholicism. So we’re just going to say that the first mark, the mark of unity, of being “One,” manifests itself beautifully in the other three. That way I can have all four marks and still play the three reasons game. Okay? Good.

1. The Church is Holy.

Now before you get all cranky, I know that Catholics aren’t necessarily holy. In fact, Catholics are often among the worst sinners out there, all the worse because we claim to have standards for our behavior. So when I say that the Church is holy, I don’t mean that everything her members does is good–or even that everything she does as an institution is good.1 But really, how much sense does it make to condemn an institution which teaches dogmatically that people are sinners when her members prove her right? Certainly, we ought to be better than that. But our Church is a saint factory, not a saints club.

Note that this wasn’t Pope Paul VI–it was Gandhi. (Source)

No, what I love about the holiness of our Church is her doctrines. Leave it to the Catholic Church to teach what is true–what she has always taught to be true–even when it’s awkward and inconvenient. When the Church of England first allowed contraception in 1930, every other mainstream Protestant denomination soon followed suit, leaving the Catholic Church alone holding the position that was held by all Christians and pretty much everyone else–including Gandhi–until the 20th century.

I love that our Church refuses to conform to secular models of liberal and conservative but runs instead after what is true, good, and beautiful. Find me a church that does as much good for the poor. Find me a church that defends all life–even that of the criminal and the immigrant and the handicapped–at whatever cost. Find me a church that works as hard for justice. This Church does all three and more.

A few months back, I was at a Catholic retreat with 800 teens. On the last day, they had us sing Happy Birthday to a few people who were celebrating that day. A few hours later, they announced that somebody else would be celebrating a birthday in a few weeks and asked us to sing to him, too. We all started off, quiet and rather confused because who cares if his birthday is coming up eventually? So is everybody’s.

Extra chromosomeAt the end of the song, a young man with Down Syndrome climbed up onto the stage and stood grinning at us as we sang to him. The auditorium erupted with cheers, teenagers screaming and shouting because they saw his need and loved him for it. I don’t know that I’ve ever been prouder to be a Catholic. We say we’re pro-life, and apparently we really mean it–before birth, after birth, for the handicapped and sinful and unwanted and alone and refugee and just everyone. And our kids know it.

And you know what? This isn’t just true in some Catholic churches–it’s true across the board. Some of us are better at it than others, but our holy teachings bind us together even when we reject them. When you say, “I’m Catholic, but I believe in…” you’re proclaiming the one, holy teaching of the Church–and your refusal to consent. And yet, despite your best efforts, it remains the teaching of the Church. Even the disunity among our members can’t break the unity of our Church. What she teaches in Denver she teaches in Dubai and Delhi and Dover and everywhere, even when she’s ridiculed or marginalized or persecuted. Praise the Lord for our One, Holy Church.

2. The Church is Catholic .

This picture is from a church in Texas and I’m in Colorado but they have the same name and I forgot to take a picture so…deal with it.

Okay, this is the reason I’m thinking about the Marks of the Church today. Because we belong to a Church that is truly universal. Yesterday I went to Mass in Vietnamese. And I understood the whole thing. No, I don’t speak a lick of Vietnamese–but I speak Mass. And so I whispered all the prayers in English as the congregation responded in Vietnamese. I even beat my breast at the same time as them! I understood when the priest was saying Phillip and James, I understood which form of the penitential rite was being used–aside from the homily and the propers of the Mass, I got it all. And after Mass, when the celebrants and congregation turned to face a statue of the Holy Family and began to chant, I realized that it was the Magnificat.2 Even the parts that weren’t liturgical, I understood because it’s a universal Church.

I’ve been to Mass in ten different languages3 and it’s always the same. If I kind of understand the language, I completely understand the Mass. If I don’t know a word, I can still pray right along with it. And even when I go to Eastern Rite churches, there’s a marvelous universality to the fact that I can join with people of any nationality and worship this one God in His Church.

Korean Martyrs

The many rites in our Church show our unity in diversity and the Saints back it up. I’ve heard it claimed that Christianity is an inherently Western religion. Well, riddle me this: there are 11 American Catholic Saints. There are at least 120 Chinese Catholic Saints, at least 103 Korean Catholic Saints. The Blessed Mother has appeared in North America, South America, Asia, Africa, and Europe4 and every time she’s taken on the race of the people she’s speaking to. This is a universal Church.

All across this world, I know that if I find a church with a picture of the Pope in it, I’m home. In every country in the world, I have a church. Find me another Church that can make that claim. Whatever divides me from tribal Catholics in a remote village or persecuted Catholics in a totalitarian regime, we are united by our One, Catholic Church.

3. The Church is Apostolic.

And this Church which is universal in space is universal in time, too. Since the Resurrection, there has always been a Catholic Church.5 There aren’t a lot of churches out there that can claim an unbroken line back to the Apostles. Aside from Catholics (as far as I know) only the Orthodox and the Church of England even try. And while the former absolutely are and the latter can make a claim, there’s more to being apostolic than being descended from the Apostles.6

Not that I’m saying Jesus used a paten and chalice, but the doctrine of the real presence was just as clear then as it is now–maybe more so.

When I’m looking for the church that is most truly apostolic, my first question isn’t even apostolic succession. My first question is, “Would the Apostles recognize it?” This isn’t an issue of chant vs. drum kits. I don’t think anybody’s claiming that the Novus Ordo or even the Extraordinary Form would look entirely familiar to one of the Twelve. But would it feel right? I’m fairly certain that whatever the words of the Mass, the Apostles would recognize the use of Scripture in the prayers and the offertory and the many Jewish undertones of the liturgy. But most of all, they would recognize the Catholic reverence for Christ truly present in the Eucharist. The men who heard him say, “This is my body” the day before he was killed would be appalled–outraged, even–to hear churches say, “No, it is not.” I’d stake my life on it. As it happens, I already have.

To be an apostolic Church is to embrace apostolic doctrines: the real presence (John 6), the power of confession (Jn 20:21-23), the primacy of Peter (Mt 16:18-19). Catholics get accused of being unbiblical, of exalting human doctrines above the truth of God. Well, I’ve read the Bible 11 times and (even ignoring the fact that there is no Bible without the Church) I just don’t see it. And the minute you read the Church Fathers, the disciples of the Apostles, you begin to see that the early Church was, in fact, the Catholic Church. St. Edmund Campion famously asked an Anglican priest who was an expert on the Church Fathers how he could read the Fathers and not become a Catholic. “If I believed them as well as read them, you would have good reason to ask,” came the response, and Campion, who was trying his best to stay Protestant, was lost to the Church of England forever.

This is the Didache, an apostolic document that supports any number of the Church's doctrines. Note that it's a lot older than the 95 theses.
This is the Didache, an apostolic document that supports any number of the Church’s doctrines. Note that it’s a lot older than the 95 theses.

This Church that is descended from the Apostles, that honors the Apostles, that finds its guidance in the successors of the Apostles–this Church also teaches the one truth handed down by the Apostles. The Church’s stance against abortion and open communion, her commitment to Sunday as sabbath and the confession of sins,7 these unite us even when they upset us. They come to us from the writings of the Apostles and their disciples and from the guidance of the Holy Spirit through their successors. It is those teachings and those bishops that make us One, Apostolic Church.

 

So there you have it, friends–my fangirl love for the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. Click over to Micaela’s to see why else people love our Church–or post yourself!

  1. The Catechism tells us that the Church is “at once holy and always in need of purification”–CCC 1428. [↩]
  2. I heard the word Abraham at the end, it was an evening Mass, they were facing Mary, and they bowed for the last stanza–the Glory Be, I assume. I suppose I could be wrong, but it sure sounds like the Magnificat to me. [↩]
  3. English, French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Arabic, Croatian, Polish, Korean, and Vietnamese. [↩]
  4. Australia and Antarctica need to get with the program. [↩]
  5. Okay, they weren’t called “Catholic” until 107 by St. Ignatius of Antioch, but it’s clearly the same Church that it was. And it continues, the same Church in 100 as in 500 as in 1500 as today. The Orthodox could say the same thing. No Protestant denomination could. [↩]
  6. The Orthodox would assert that their Church also has much of what I’m about to list and they’re right. My point is to say what is apostolic here, not what makes only us the apostolic Church. [↩]
  7. All four from the first century Didache, the earliest Church constitution written by the companions of the Apostles. [↩]

What to Do When Mass Is Awful

One downside to being a hobo is that there’s no vetting parishes before deciding to go to Mass there. Whether it’s stopping at a parish in Kentucky because its noon Mass fit my 12-hour drive or going to the only church in Abilene, KS, I don’t always have a lot of choice in the matter. And when I do, I don’t tend to have enough information that I can avoid sketchy parishes. The result, of course, is that I go to a lot of…trying Masses.

One particularly frustrating Mass got me thinking, some time after the rain stick and before I noticed half a dozen adults chewing gum. As I tried to ignore the murmured conversations all around me (because, really, why listen to the Mass?), the Lord reminded me that there’s very little that can ruin the Mass. Oh, there’s plenty that can ruin my focus or my prayer or even the state of my soul if I let it, but almost nothing actually has the power to ruin the goodness that is the Mass.

Things that can’t ruin Mass (although not for lack of trying):1

  1. Granted, the lighting wasn't great, but there's not much you can do with seafoam carpeting and cinder block walls.
    Not even seafoam carpeting and cinder block walls can ruin Mass. I promise.

    Ugly sanctuaries. And not just the brown brick monstrosities of my youth. I’m talking a picture of MLK Jr. hanging to the right of the altar. However much you respect the work he did, the man is not a Saint.

  2. People chewing gum. Never okay in a house of worship, but I’m sure you knew that.
  3. People dressed immodestly. Leggings are not pants and if you’re convinced that shorts are Sunday-Mass-appropriate, please do make sure that they cover your butt. Also, what’s with all the cleavage at Mass? Or anywhere, for that matter? I tell you, friends, I just don’t get it.
  4. Cell phones going off. Even when people answer them and talk about how they’re leaving church as they walk out on their phone. Yup, been there.
  5. Screaming kids. By which I usually mean fussing kids whose parents scoop them up and out of the sanctuary but still get dirty looks. But even the ones who are totally indulged, driving their matchbox cars up and down the pews making screeching noises can’t ruin Mass.
  6. Illicit liturgy. I’m talking pita bread Jesus, the congregation sitting through the whole Mass, lay people proclaiming the Gospel, the priest receiving communion after everybody else–I begin to think I really have seen it all.
  7. Bad music. I’m rather a musical snob, so when I hear a cantor who’s a quarter step flat for a whole psalm, a pianist who doesn’t understand rests, or a guitarist playing in the wrong time signature, it’s a challenge to me. And Catholics aren’t exactly known for their music….
  8. Heretical music. “I myself am the bread of life…” Okay, fine, John 6. “…You and I are the bread of life!” What? No. We aren’t. That doesn’t even make sense! Seriously?
  9. If I hear that one again, I'll text this to the preacher.
    If I hear that one again, I’ll text this to the deacon.

    Heretical preaching. I actually heard an Easter homily once where the deacon preached that Jesus didn’t rise from the dead. It doesn’t get much worse than that.

  10. Obnoxious neighbors. You know–the ones who say all the responses reallysuperfast or the ones who seem to be boycotting the new translation or the ones who spend the whole offertory chatting about Kendra’s new boyfriend. I’m of the opinion that the only reason you talk during Mass is if, say, one of your limbs falls off and you have to whisper to your neighbor to please hand it back to you. Otherwise, not a word.

Plenty of these things, of course, might ruin your experience of Mass, but ultimately Mass is not about your experience. It’s about the objective truth of God made man made food for us. And if it’s a valid Mass,2 it is quite literally the most incredible thing ever to happen in the history of the world. When we’re dealing with a glory so stunning as the Eucharist, even the most heinous of liturgical practices can’t ruin it.

Now don’t get me wrong–good liturgy is at the heart of our faith and reverence is tremendously important.3 But when I let these relatively inconsequential things frustrate me, I’m worshiping music or rubrics or proper attire at the expense of God. And really, I’m letting the devil win. When you go to Mass, you strike a blow at Satan; when you spend your Mass frustrated or judgmental, he deflects it. And then some.

So when is Mass awful? When it isn’t Mass.

  1. If the priest uses any words other than “this is my body” and “this is the chalice of my blood” for the “consecration.”4
  2. If the priest “consecrates” anything other than wheat bread or grape wine.5
  3. If the “priest” isn’t a priest.

That’s it. No matter how bad the music, how dull the preaching, or how rude the congregation, if the form,6 the matter,7 and the minister8 are correct, God shows up. And if the God of the universe becomes an inanimate object for you, stopping at nothing to be with you, then no amount of human failure ought to rob you of of your Eucharistic joy. A valid Mass, my friends, can never be awful.9 The congregation or the preaching or the music or you can be awful, but the Mass isn’t about you. It’s about God. And he is faithful, even when we’re pathetic.

So what should you do? Well, I’m a big fan of making imaginary excuses for people.10 Or finding ways not to be distracted. Or, if it’s possible, shopping around for a licit Mass with a reverent congregation.

But it really comes down to your attitude. If you approach the Mass like it’s an opportunity for you to be entertained or enlightened or pacified, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re making a mental list of liturgical abuses, I sympathize, but I remind you: unless you’re a bishop,11 you are not the liturgy police. You are the faithful. And while it would be wonderful if everything was done right and everybody really did what they ought, making that your standard for a “good” Mass is pharisaism at best and idolatry at worst.

I totally took this picture. Be impressed.

If you approach the Mass like you’re approaching the throne of God, though, everything that’s “wrong” with a particular liturgy fades into the background. If you offer God your frustrations in atonement for your sins, if you close your eyes and beg for the grace to focus on him and not on them, if you remember that God loves us in our brokenness and wants everything we have to offer even if it’s awful, if you remind yourself over and over that however Father might embellish the Mass you’re still truly present at the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, and the Wedding Feast of the Lamb–well, just think of the grace!

Now if you’re in a position to do anything about any of the above, please do. Make announcements about gum, preach about proper attire, ban liturgical abuses. But if you’re like most of us, with no power to change anyone but yourself and–maybe–your family, don’t let propriety trump worship. Recognize what’s wrong if you must and then look back to Christ crucified for you. In the face of that, what else really matters?

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

Last week I mentioned that I wanted to go to Wyoming and now I am! So I’ll try it again: I really want to go to New Mexico and South Dakota but I have nobody to visit and they’re not on my way. Anybody want me to come speak? (Or anywhere else out West, really, but I’ve got every other state covered as far as excuses to go there.)

  1. Every single one of these examples has really truly happened to me. [↩]
  2. Meaning Jesus actually shows up. You’ve probably never been to an invalid Mass. I think I went to one once but I’m not positive that it wasn’t just hugely illicit. [↩]
  3. Half the reason I wrote this post was to point out what isn’t appropriate at Mass. And please, before you get upset that I’m saying it’s not a big deal when things are illicit, I know that it’s a huge deal because the Mass is so important and it needs to be done right. I’m just saying that relative to the Eucharist, who is God himself, liceity is nothing. Because relative to the Eucharist, everything is nothing. I’m advocating perspective, not anarchy. [↩]
  4. My friend once went to a “Mass” where the priest said “this is the cup of my life.” No transubstantiation, no Mass. Lame. [↩]
  5. Leavened bread in the Roman Rite is illicit–against the rules–but not invalid. If a priest tries to consecrate cornbread, though, it’s not Jesus. [↩]
  6. Words. “This is my body,” “this is the cup of my blood.” [↩]
  7. Stuff: wheat bread, grape wine. [↩]
  8. A validly ordained priest–by necessity, a Catholic man. [↩]
  9. Except in the archaic sense of inspiring awe, in which case every Mass is awful, most especially when it’s glorious. [↩]
  10. “He must have gotten stuck in traffic and not had time to change and that’s why he’s wearing sweatpants and a cutoff tee to Sunday Mass.” “They’re probably chewing gum because they’ve never been in a church before and they don’t know proper etiquette.” “Maybe Father’s never read the rubrics.” “That 10-year-old playing her handheld game must have special needs.” [↩]
  11. In which case oh my gosh hi and you’re amazing and thanks for reading my blog wanna be my best friend?!?!? [↩]

Your Mom

One of the most addictive things about this blogging business is the site statistics that WordPress gives you access to. You know, how many people have viewed which post, what links led them there, that type of thing. There’s also a section that tells you what people googled to find you. My all-time favorite is “christian nudists.”

Christian nudists?!?! Is that even a thing?? WHY??? And why on EARTH did Google think I had anything to say about that? Until today, I’m pretty sure the word nudist wasn’t anywhere on my blog.

Or December’s “what are jesse stem in catholic church.” Well, I don’t know. What are jesse stem in catholic church?

I’ve seen “I’m a consecrated virgin falling in love” which broke my heart. Friend, whoever you are, I’m praying for you!

But I saw one a while back that took my breath away: “what can write to tell my mother i adore her.”

Oh, my. I don’t know why the internet thinks you’ll find the answer here, but you certainly deserve it. What a beautiful question! And in honor of my mother’s birthday, I’ll attempt an answer by trying it myself. Want to know how amazing my mom is? Read on.

She loved us enough to take us to the Eiffel Tower, although apparently not enough to buy Timmy shorts of a reasonable length.

I spent 20 years in fantastic schools but my mother is the greatest teacher I’ve had. Even working 40 hours a week, she managed to instill in every one of her children a love of learning. For some of us, it’s sometimes more a love of knowing all the things than a true love of discovery, but the fact remains that my mother’s children are far better-educated than even our impressive resumes would indicate.

I can still hear her chanting the common feet of English poetry, making the analysis of a poem’s meter a game until I couldn’t hear Dr. Seuss without automatically counting and muttering, “anapestic tetrameter.” She taught me impeccable grammar and when to ignore it for the sake of style. She taught me fabulous words, above all when I was in trouble. To this day, the words “plebeian” and “troglodyte” always make me think of my mother. She taught us to sing, to harmonize, and to recognize every Beatles song ever written.1 Don’t tell her I said this, but I kind of wish she had homeschooled us–she’s so educated and so interesting and knows so much more about so many things than I do.2

Almost as much as learning she taught me to love teaching. I remember thinking, when my little brother was just 4, that the best present I could give my mother was teaching him to read. When that failed, I recorded my voice reading Winnie the Pooh on a stack of cassettes to give him for his fifth birthday. My mother had taught me, after all, how important it is to read to a child. And if she wasn’t reading to us, she was telling us stories. Old family stories, over and over again, stories she made up about a good witch, fairy tales or fables. You may have noticed from this blog that I can’t make a point without telling a story. You have my mother to thank for that.

My mother taught me to love books and specifically to love books more than the movies made from them. To this day I loathe Disney’s Winnie the Pooh and I look with disdain at the Julie Andrews Mary Poppins. She made books the consummate treat, a prize for good grades or a bribe to keep us quiet on road trips. We were raised to read voraciously because what else would one do? What was life without books? It would be like life without etymology or analysis or love–empty.

I have more pictures of my mom with our dogs than with me....
I have more pictures of my mom with our dogs than with me….

My mother raised responsible children. We got allowances from a young age but only if we were willing to perform a list of chores. If we tired of a certain chore, we could only quit if a sibling would switch with us. And even being handed money was an educational experience. See, when I got $5 a week, I only ever saw $4. Before I even got the money, 10% went to charity and 10% went to savings. I only ever counted on 80% of my earnings and it’s the same today. When a little old lady on the street hands me $20 to support my ministry, I pull out a notecard and add $2 to the tally of what I have to give away. We were always taught to give first, to save second, and to spend only what’s necessary. To this day, I call my mother when I need financial advice. Even before I google, I call her.

My parents have always been supportive of their children, whatever we wanted to do, although not entirely without reservations. The year that I decided that I wanted to be a cheerleader instead of playing soccer, my mother made me write an essay about why I wanted to be a cheerleader. I also had to express in that essay that I understood that this choice was irreversible and that if allowed to cheer I would not be able to quit midseason or to play soccer as well. I was seven. But I wrote the essay and when I hated cheerleading and wanted to put on pads and play football with the boys, my mother didn’t even say, “I told you so” when driving me to cheer practice anyway. She let me make my own choice–and then let me live with it.

My mother didn’t just let us be ourselves, she rejoiced when we were ourselves. She wasn’t even embarrassed by us when she really, by all rights, should have been. Like the time that we went to watch her in a spelling bee.3 My sister and I acted like wild animals, literally howling and barking when she spelled words correctly. My mother just laughed as everybody around us looked entirely uncomfortable and rather confused.

Dressed up in the 80sSo when I moved to Harlem for a summer at 18, my mother supported me. When I gave away everything I owned to join the convent, my mother supported me. When I went to Palestine by myself for a month, she supported me. But more than that–she marveled at me. She didn’t harp on concerns for my safety or my future–she trusted me to do the right thing and bragged about me to all her friends. Because my mother isn’t just proud of her children, she’s in awe of us; a love like that makes you feel as though you really can do anything.

See, my father loves his children blindly. No matter what we do, he thinks we are better at it than anybody else has ever been. My mother loves us with her eyes wide open. She sees the good in us and magnifies it. Despite being wildly intelligent and talented herself, she doesn’t feel the need to elevate herself. Instead, she calls me to ask theology questions or my brother to ask about grammar. Never mind that she’s been writing and editing longer than we’ve been alive, she defers to his judgment because she knows he’s right. Never mind that I might never have known Christ if not for her, she lets me lead. She trusts my sister’s musicality and my little brother’s knowledge of politics above her own even though those are both places where she excels. She’s told me again and again that the thing she is most pleased about in her life is the fact that each of her children is better than her at something she loves. It takes a true mother to rejoice in being surpassed.

You'd think from looking at them that they were on their way to their 8th grade dance, but this was my parents' wedding day. My father's wearing a brown tweed bell-bottom suit--the same one my little brother wore to his confirmation in 8th grade some 25 years later.
You’d think from looking at them that they were on their way to their 8th grade dance, but this was my parents’ wedding day. My father’s wearing a brown tweed bell-bottom suit–the same one my little brother wore to his confirmation in 8th grade some 25 years later. Swag.

I spend a lot of time talking about the importance of a father’s love for his daughter. But a mother like mine will change your life. She taught me to be strong but compassionate, to be convicted but open. My unabashedly pro-life Democrat feminist of a mother taught me not to swallow an ideology hook, line, and sinker but to question and seek truth, even if it meant raised eyebrows and accusations and a lifetime of not fitting in. And while I rebelled against her faith when I was young–and then rebelled against her approach to faith when I came to Christ–it was my mother who showed me what it meant to be a woman of prayer. If she had been any different, who knows where I’d be? I needed her to be Christian so that I could run from that and to be not-so-Catholic so I could embrace orthodoxy once I stopped running. And when I look at her now, how she’s submitted again and again to reason and truth and sometimes just to authority when all her instincts were crying out against it–well, I begin to wish I was a little more like her in matters of faith. My mother is a faithful Catholic in every way not because she wanted to be but because she loved God more than she loved herself.

Sometimes I forget how much mothers matter because it’s so easy to take mine for granted. I never had to fight for my mother’s approval. I never had to wonder what she thought of me because my mother has told me since the day I was born just how fabulous she thinks I am. My strong, brilliant, compassionate mother doesn’t just love me because I’m hers, she loves me because I’m me, which must mean I’m something special. And she loves me so completely that I’ve never questioned it.

As I wander about the country doing my hobo thing, I’m often asked what my parents think of this life I lead. The first time someone asked, I was confused. “Well they’re my parents,” I said. “So they think it’s awesome.” You know you’re doing something very, very right when it doesn’t even occur to your kids that you wouldn’t be proud of them.

This might be my favorite picture of all time. I'm in the stripes.
This might be my favorite picture of all time. I’m in the stripes.

So here’s to my mom, who loves me so hard that I can’t imagine being unloved. Here’s to my mom, who believes in me even when the world thinks I’m nuts. Here’s to my mom who taught me to love books and music and words and Christ. Here’s to my mom who can’t help but support her kids–even when it means challenging them in ways that may tick them off. Because my mom isn’t about feel-good love. She loves in a turning-over-tables, weeping-for-your-pain, going-joyfully-to-the-cross kind of way. I hope you’re as blessed in your mother as I am in mine.

P.S. NOW who’s your favorite child?

  1. The answer to, “Kids, who sings this song?” was always “The Beatles” unless it was very obviously The Beach Boys. [↩]
  2. Of course, I probably would have pitched an enormous fit to lose out on all-day socializing in favor of being better-educated, but still. [↩]
  3. Which, in retrospect, is rather strange. Who has adult spelling bees? [↩]