Category: Truth

16 Scientist Saints

There are few things that can more quickly cause me to pull out my soapbox and climb up for a rant than the implication that science and faith are at odds. “I don’t believe in God, I believe in science,” they say, to which I respond, “You’re welcome.” For science, that is. It was invented by a Franciscan friar, after all. And you’re welcome for genetics (Augustinian monk). And the Big Bang Theory (Jesuit priest). And I rant and I rave about how sciencey the Church is. Because there is simply no such conflict.

Servant of God Takashi Nagai speaks simply on the alleged conflict between science and faith: “If you read what the great scientists actually said, it is not so. Social and literary critics, that is, men who have held pens but never test tubes, are the ones who make that claim.” So in the interest of dispelling that silly rumor (and introducing you to some new Saint friends), I thought it would be good to collect some of our more scientifically-brilliant Saints. Not just Sunday-Mass Catholics who were scientists, Saints. Not just Saints who could do chemistry or build a bridge, pioneers who changed their fields forever. Turns out, there are rather a lot, but let’s start with these.

Saint Anatolius of Laodicea (d. 283) was the bishop of Laodicea and a leading scholar in all the natural sciences (including arithmetic, geometry, physics, rhetoric, dialectic, and astronomy) as well as being an Aristotelian philosopher.

I really can’t get over the idea of calculus with Roman numerals.

Saint Abbo of Fleury (945-1004) was an abbot, a mathematician, a liturgist, a historian, and an astronomer who worked on the theory of numbers before the introduction of Arabic numerals. He was stabbed to death for working to reform a monastery of not-so-holy monks.

Blessed Herman of Reichenau (1013-1054) was born with severe disabilities (cleft palate, cerebral palsy, and spina bifida or possible spinal muscular atrophy) and raised in a monastery. He wrote on geometry, arithmetic, history, astronomy, theology, and music theory. When he eventually went blind, he turned his attention to composing, most notably the Salve Regina.

St Albert the Great (d. 1280) is called the last man to know all there was to know. (He taught St. Thomas Aquinas, whose work was so impressive that nobody could know all of Thomas and all of the rest of the world’s scholarship.) In addition to being a holy bishop, he wrote on philosophy, theology, botany, geography, astronomy, zoology, music, and physiology, mostly with remarkable accuracy, especially given the time.

From a secular site. Because everybody in these fields knows this guy was a beast.

Blessed Nicolas Steno (Niels Stenson) (1638-1686) was a convert to Catholicism, a bishop, a pioneer in anatomy and geology, and the father of paleontology because he discovered what fossils were. His laws of stratigraphy are still in use. And he managed all this before dying at the age of 48.

Blessed Francesco Faà di Bruno (1825-1888) was a nobleman, an army officer, and a cartographer before earning a doctorate in math and devising a theorem on derivatives of composite functions that is named after him. He published around 40 articles in respected mathematical journals over the course of his career. Oh, and he was also a social reformer who worked with St. John Bosco and then a priest and the founder of religious order. Plus he worked to help women escape from human trafficking.

Saint Giuseppe Moscati (1880-1927) was a dedicated single layman, a doctor who served the poor for free and risked his life to rescue elderly patients during a volcanic eruption. He was a pioneer in the field of biochemistry whose published research led (among many things) to the discovery of insulin as a treatment for diabetes. He was among the first to use CPR and his innovative patient-centered method influenced the field as a whole and encouraged a more holistic approach to medicine.

Nagai with his two children as he lay dying.

Servant of God Takashi Nagai (1908-1951) was a married Japanese doctor and convert from Shintoism and atheistic nihilism. The father of 2 worked at the leading edge of radiology research, eventually contracting leukemia from his exposure to radiation. His condition was dramatically worsened by the atomic bomb that incinerated his wife when dropped on Nagasaki. The poetry he wrote over the next several years, about suffering and forgiveness, transformed the way the Japanese responded to the catastrophic end of World War II.

Servant of God Jerome Lejeune (1926-1994) was a married French pediatrician, geneticist, and father of 5 who discovered that Down Syndrome was caused by an extra copy of chromosome 21. His later work identified several other diseases caused by chromosomal abnormalities, all of which together earned him the William Allen Award, the world’s highest honor for genetics. In addition to his scientific research, Lejeune was a vocal pro-life advocate, concerned especially with defending children whose lives could be threatened by their prenatal genetic diagnoses.

 

I’d like to include here also a number of canonized (or soon-to-be-canonized) physicians, though they weren’t research scientists or pioneers in mathematical or scientific fields. By separating them from the others, I don’t mean to imply that medicine isn’t a serious science, only that people tend to be less surprised when someone in the “caring professions” is a Christian, even if that person is a scientist as well. We also have quite a lot of doctor Saints, so I thought I’d limit it to a handful.

St. Joseph Canh (d. 1838) was a Vietnamese doctor, and third order Dominican, who was beheaded by the Japanese for refusing to deny Christ.

St. Anthony Nam-Quynh (d. 1838) was a Vietnamese doctor and catechist who was strangled to death for his faith.

St.Mark Ji Tianxiang (d. 1900) was an opium addict. Not had been an opium addict—was an opium addict at the time of his death. He was a Chinese Christian doctor who treated the poor for free but became hooked on opiates after a stomach ailment. For 30 years he was barred from receiving the Sacraments and prayed that he would die a martyr. Finally, his prayer was answered when he was captured during the Boxer Rebellion. He went to his death singing the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Blessed Ladislao Batthyány-Strattmann (1870-1931) was a prince, a father of 13, and a surgeon specializing in ophthalmology who operated on the poor for the fee of one Our Father.

St. Richard Pampuri

St. Richard Pampuri (1897-1930) was an Italian doctor and a religious brother in the order of the Hospitallers of St John of God. He served as a medic in World War I before becoming a doctor and entering religious life.

Servant of God Vico Necchi (1876-1930) was a husband, father, third-order Franciscan, doctor, professor of biology, daily communicant, and founder of the University of the Sacred Heart. He was a leader in the Catholic Action movement and worked diligently to improve the lot of mentally handicapped children.

St. Gianna Molla (1922-1962) is, of course, famous for having refused to abort her child at the expense of her own life, but it wasn’t that sacrifice that made her a Saint, it was the life leading up to it that made it possible. Gianna was a pediatrician, a wife, and the (working) mother of 4.

50 Ways You Can Help Heal Our Divided Country

Since the election, what I’ve been trying to say was love each other, love each other, and love each other. From the reactions I got, it seems some people weren’t able to hear anything but attack. Over and again I was told how divisive I am.1 It seems that for some of us, unity is the currently the supreme value.

So I’ve been praying about what it means to be unifying. I think many people–on both sides–believe it means to shut up about what you don’t like and accept the status quo, but in a Church that has always fought for justice I just can’t see how that could be right. When people are afraid and enraged and feel attacked for voting their consciences, the appropriate response can’t just be to yell at everyone to shut up.

Seen in a high school government classroom the week after the election. Ain't that the truth?
Seen in a high school government classroom the week after the election. Ain’t that the truth?

Unity doesn’t mean that we all believe the exact same thing. It means that we listen and respect and try to understand each other. It means that we use appropriate channels to voice our concerns, including peaceful protest. It means that we acknowledge people’s fear even if we then try to show them that it’s unfounded. It means we work to defend each other, even if we don’t have a dog in this particular fight.

But opportunities to do all this seem to be evading us. So for those of you who, with me, are trying to understand and love people on both sides, I thought a list of concrete things to do might be helpful. They may not all be up your alley, but they’re worth considering.

Respect—specific actions you can take to respect people who differ from you.

  1. Assume that people mean well. Don’t read between the lines to discover an attack where one wasn’t intended.
  2. Stop with the hateful rhetoric. Call out prejudice, but don’t refer to people as fascists and crybabies unless they are heavily influenced by Mussolini or literal infants in tears.
  3. When using words like racist, do the best you can to label actions, not people. For one, it’s a dangerous thing to define someone by one element of his character. For another, it’s not fruitful to slam the door in his face. Take issue with language or behavior and you might still be able to have a conversation.
  4. Don’t hold people to a higher standard than the one you set for yourself. If you expect others to understand that not all Trump supporters are bigots, you need to acknowledge that not all protestors are rioting, and vice versa.
  5. kinderRemember that every person you criticize—friend, family member, stranger on the internet, even politician—is a real person, beloved by God, with wounds and suffering that have formed her. Be kind.
  6. Make a list of all the things you respect about the party you don’t belong to. (If you’re an independent, make two lists.) Once you get going (including intentions and conviction), you might find there’s more there than you expected.
  7. Encourage people you see who are trying to understand how the other side thinks. Believe me, when you start to affirm something that’s different from what the majority of your friends believe, you’re going to suffer for it. A little encouragement goes a long way.
  8. Put yourself in somebody else’s shoes. Ask yourself: if I were gay or rural poor or pro-life or undocumented or a victim of sexual assault or underemployed, how would I feel? Is it possible to believe as this person believes without being a racist/baby-murderer/snowflake/xenophobe? Then give him the benefit of the doubt. Assume he’s not terrible and act on that assumption.
  9. Remember that the point of all this isn’t winning but love.
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    Information—the sources you listen to and the way you share them.
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  10. Read books that weren’t written for you, and follow news sources that don’t skew your way. Share their work, even if with a caveat. I don’t agree with everything in any of these articles, but I think they’re all worth a read.
    1. I found this article particularly helpful in understanding the Trump voters who weren’t motivated by pro-life convictions.2
    2. This one (despite its profanity) similarly gives an explanation of the desperation of many people living in rural poverty.
    3. These quotations from individual Trump voters shed light on how multifaceted that group is.
    4. This man–no Trump supporter–writes in a very thorough way about how he believes the accusations of racism are beyond excessive. This one is really fascinating.
    5. On the flip side, this post outlines some of the serious concerns the left has following this election.
    6. Elizabeth Warren’s letter might also raise eyebrows among Trump supporters who expected him to drain the swamp as he promised.
    7. It helps to read what those in the middle are saying as well.
    8. This post on how to be an anti-racist ally might make you very uncomfortable. It’s still worth your time.
  11. Be very deliberate about your comments on social media. (Seriously, click over there. Half of what I’m trying to say here I already said better there.)
  12. Don’t share stories you haven’t fact-checked. May I recommend www.snopes.com to start?
  13. If you listen to the radio, alternate between SiriusXM Patriot and Progress. If television, add some Fox to your diet of MSNBC. Subscribe to the Washington Post and the Washington Times–real print subscriptions that support responsible journalism in an age of clickbait. Try not to hate your opposition but actually to listen.
  14. thinkIf you love Trump, make a post on social media in which you acknowledge some of the concerns you have about him. If you don’t, share a list of positive things you could see coming out of his presidency.
  15. Continue to speak out against injustice, but make sure you also decry injustice coming from your side. You might think that everybody knows that when you defend immigrants you clearly oppose riots, but people these days are struggling to ascribe any positive attributes to the opposition. Make it easier by saying the obvious aloud.
  16. Go find some of those friends you unfollowed during election season–the ones who are good and intelligent if a bit overly-vocal about politics–and read what they’ve shared. Then reach out to them to start a conversation.
  17. Research—if you’re genuinely afraid of the consequences a Trump presidency will have on your life, find the particular laws and executive orders you’re concerned about and learn what it would take to reverse them. In many instances, the process would be impossible or at least so complicated as to push it after mid-term elections.
  18. When your heartfelt attempts to be just and compassionate are met with rage or disdain, consider taking a break from fighting the good fight to read some happy news and remember that there really are millions of marvelous people in this world.
  19. Get off social media for a week and just live your life.
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    Conversation—the way you view and interact with people you know.
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  20. Go to coffee with a friend from the other side of the political spectrum. It might be best for you to set a time limit on political talk, giving yourself half an hour or so to work through the very real differences between you before switching to less incendiary topics.
  21. If you know somebody who’s afraid following this election, reach out and ask if there’s anything you can do to help.
  22. When an online interaction is getting heated or you’re talking past each other, invite your interlocutor to meet in person to continue the conversation. It’s harder to hate each other in person.
  23. Be aware that you use words that set off red flags for other people or just seem meaningless (privilege, subsidiarity). Try to use language that we all share.
  24. Sirach 20:1Remember that not every battle is yours to fight. There are times when you have to stand your ground and other times when you can change the subject or keep scrolling.
  25. Don’t defend the indefensible. Just because you approve of a particular politician doesn’t mean you have to take his side on every issue. We are fighting for truth and goodness here, not for a political candidate or ideology. Admit it when your side is wrong.
  26. Reach out to people you know who voted differently from you and ask them, “Please help me understand.” Listen. Repeat it back to them. Do not argue. Don’t even share your perspective unless they ask. Just try to understand.
  27. When conversations get too heated, pull back and ask people to help you find common ground. We may not agree that a certain appointee is a racist, but we can agree that racism is wrong. We can agree that people ought to feel safe. We can agree that people ought to listen to each other. There’s far more that unites us than that divides us.
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    Action—choices you can make to benefit the broader community.
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  28. Take a look at the appointments being made by our president-elect. If any of them concern you, call your representatives to voice that concern. If any of them reassure you, do the same.
  29. Consider wearing a safety pin, even if you’re not a liberal. This is a signal that you are a safe person to ask for help and that you’re willing to step in if you see injustice. If people view it as a political statement, explain that you are opposed to cruelty regardless of its cause.
  30. Don’t wear a safety pin if you’re not willing to put yourself at risk.3
  31. Pray daily for our current president, our president-elect, and every person whose political persuasions rub you the wrong way.
  32. Encourage your elected officials to pursue genuine dialogue. This article suggests that Catholics who have worked in ecumenism could lead the conversation.
  33. Pick an institution you struggle to understand and respect (a crisis pregnancy center, a mosque, the National Organization for Women, a Baptist church, the VFW, Greenpeace, the NAACP, the NRA) and stop by for a visit. Ask if they have a representative you can ask some questions of. Don’t try to change their minds, just to understand. And maybe bring cookies.
  34. Take your kids to visit a nursing home. It may not do anything politically, but works of mercy always serve the common good.
  35. Look for beautiful things to refresh you. Read a lovely or painful or entertaining book. Man cannot live on rage and controversy alone.
  36. Support local businesses and get to know the people who run them.
  37. When you’re upset on behalf of a particular group, instead of being angry, do something specific to serve that group. If you’re concerned about immigrants, donate to an organization that serves them or volunteer to teach ESL at your church or community center. If you’re worried about affordable housing for the poor, get involved in Habitat for Humanity or sign up to tutor people working toward their GED.
  38. Tell people you love why you love them. Especially the ones who make that hard.
  39. Make eye contact with strangers and smile at them. This is a particularly easy time to do that, as all this week you can tell people happy Thanksgiving and I can’t think that anybody will be offended.
  40. Stop by your neighbors’ houses with cookies/an invitation to dinner/an offer to rake their leaves.
  41. Tell immigrants and refugees who you know personally that you’re glad they’re here.
  42. When someone is afraid or angry or otherwise upset, offer to pray with her right there.
  43. Go home for the holidays and love your family. Even the difficult ones.
  44. Spend time in silence every day.
  45. Write a prayer of thanksgiving for the existence of those on the other side of the spectrum from you. Be specific about their good intentions and all that you’ve learned from them (or from trying to speak to them).
  46. Before posting online, reading an article that challenges your view, or speaking to a person you disagree with, offer this prayer:

    Holy Spirit, speak in me and through me. May my stony heart be broken open to love and may I speak the truth the world longs to hear.

  47. Teach your children to love people who are different from them–by talking about it and by demonstrating it. If you don’t have friends who are a different race, try attending a different church (or the same church at a different time) for a few weeks to integrate your Sunday morning. If you don’t have friends who are a different religion, you might consider calling a local place of worship and explaining that you’re trying to help your children learn to love different people and you’re wondering if they might have a family that would like to meet for a playdate.
  48. Though I don't recommend doing it with graffiti.
    Though I don’t recommend doing it with graffiti.

    Find an entirely nonpartisan charity, one that feeds kids or builds handicapped-accessible playgrounds or helps single parents go back to school or shelters abused women or something, and make a donation.

  49. If you see someone who’s being treated cruelly for any reason, step in. This comic shows a peaceful way to defuse a situation.
  50. Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.

My friends, unity is a beautiful thing, but it is not the most beautiful thing. Truth and justice are far more important, even at the expense of unity. But we can serve truth and justice with kindness and compassion, seeking to listen and understand, respecting people even if we can’t accept their beliefs. Unity is not achieved by people shutting their mouths for fear or shame but by people honestly seeking to love and understand each other. Instead of letting the devil convince us that the other is the enemy, let’s stage a revolution of kindness and make this terrible election season the spark that lit the world on fire with love.

 

(One way to start being unifying would be to make only constructive comments on this post rather than insulting me in all caps. Just a thought.)

  1. Even when I posted an article in which a Clinton supporter said (with all evidence of sincerity) that she believes Trump supporters to be “good-hearted, well-intentioned, loving, tolerant, inclusive, and American.” [↩]
  2. I already understood those. The right to life is the most important right we have and I had no problem respecting those who voted on that issue in this particular election. [↩]
  3. Note: I don’t agree with everything that author says, just thought it was a good read. [↩]

Not Babies Throwing Tantrums: Respecting People’s Fear

The trouble with being a Catholic is that we don’t generally do extremes. We tend to try to walk right down the center, holding seeming opposites in tension in what’s called the “both-and” of Catholicism. This is particularly complicated in our polarized American culture and many of us have been struggling this week to figure out how to rejoice over some hope of pro-life legislation being passed while mourning the pain and fear of so many marginalized groups in this country.

I’ve made no secret of my deep concerns about the rhetoric and character of our president-elect; at the same time, being a believing Catholic means that many of the issues that matter most to me align with his current party. So this week has been a tough one, trying to challenge the victors and console their opponents while also reminding both sides not to vilify one another. I’ve already written to liberals encouraging them to consider that most who voted for Trump did so not because of the racist and misogynistic and otherwise hateful things he’s said but in spite of them.1

Now, my conservative friends, I need to talk to you. Or rather, to the handful of you who are complaining so loudly about “crybabies” throwing ”temper tantrums.” To those who are raging that people just need to accept the results of the election and “get over it.” To those who laugh at trigger warnings and safe spaces, and feel the need to ridicule people’s pain and fear.

This is not mercy.

This is not love.

This will not heal.

And those of you who are so loudly asserting your tolerance are refusing to hear the suffering of people of color, abuse victims, Muslims, the disabled, women, GLBTQ folks, and every other community denigrated in recent months by our president-elect and his supporters. But perhaps you will listen to me, a white, pro-life Christian who’s never voted for a Democratic presidential candidate.

Your brothers and sisters are terrified.

It doesn’t actually matter if you think their fears are legitimate. When a kind and merciful person encounters someone paralyzed by fear, the proper response is never to ridicule him for being illogical or reactionary.

If your sister came to your house hyperventilating because her ex was trying to kill her, you wouldn’t tell her to shut up and quit whining, even if her ex was an amazing man. You would hold her and love her and tell her you’d protect her and then try to figure out why she was so afraid. Only then would you talk her down and point out why her fears are—perhaps—unfounded.

Now let’s say your sister had a past history of abuse. You’d be even more empathetic, wouldn’t you? You’d listen and love and ask her how you could help her to feel safe.

And if she’d been abused and her abuser had just been acquitted and her restraining order canceled, you’d do something tangible to protect her.

At least I hope you would.

Because when people are afraid, good people don’t ridicule them.

This is where we are right now. Millions of people who have been abused and see the face of their abuser on the most powerful man in the world are begging desperately for help. Mockery is an inhuman response.

When people are afraid, it’s because there’s something wrong. Maybe there’s a real danger and maybe they’ve been told there’s one and maybe they’re having a mental breakdown. But none of those things is solved by telling them to suck it up.

screen-shot-2016-11-14-at-1-09-17-amYou don’t have to believe that there is a real danger to your friends and neighbors and strangers in order to listen with compassion. You don’t have to accept the assertions that this presidency will pose a danger to their livelihoods and very lives. Even if you don’t believe them, you can still listen and love and ask how to help.

But it might be easier knowing that these people are not crybabies. Perhaps they will be fine, but they have legitimate reason to fear.

Hundreds of thousands of immigrants brought to this country as children and here legally now under DACA are afraid of being deported. You may disagree that they should be here. They are still afraid.

Seriously ill people who had been unable to obtain affordable health insurance because of pre-existing conditions are afraid that they won’t be able to pay for life-saving treatments. You may have had a negative experience with the Affordable Care Act. They are still afraid.

Gay and lesbian couples who are legally married and have children together are afraid that their families will be split up, that they will no longer be able to share legal guardianship of their children or receive their partner’s health benefits or appear in public together without risk of harassment or assault. You may not believe that their union is truly a marriage. They are still afraid.

Survivors of sexual assault are afraid that a country that elects as president man who brags about assaulting women will refuse to believe them when they share their stories of assault. You may believe that Mr. Trump was all talk on that tape. They are still afraid.

Muslims are afraid that they will be forced to register as Muslims and then will be systematically discriminated against as a result of this registry. You may not see the link between this and Nazi Germany. They are still afraid.

Transgender individuals who obtain hormones through insurance (hormones that keep them from committing suicide) are afraid that insurance will no longer cover these medications. You may disagree that they need them. They are still afraid.

Black Americans are afraid that in a country that elected a man endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan, they are not safe in their communities or even their homes. You may know a thousand people who voted for Trump and would never use the N-word. They are still afraid.

Marginalized people of all sorts have heard report after report of hate speech and hate crimes and are afraid that they will also be targeted. You may believe many of these events to be fabricated; you may have similar concerns over accounts of attacks on Trump supporters. They are still afraid.

Tell that to the March for Life. We lost that battle 40 years ago and we're still out marching. Maybe we should just get over it. #sarcasm
A good example of rhetoric that is not helpful.

People are protesting in the streets. I suppose some might just be pitching a fit because they don’t like losing. Others feel a deep fear for themselves or those they love. Many believe—and God help us, I pray that they’re wrong—that President Elect Trump is as dangerous a man as Adolf Hitler was. If you learned of Germans in 1933 who took to the streets to protest Hitler’s appointment as chancellor, you would applaud them. You don’t have to agree with the protestors to respect the fact that many of them believe they are acting to prevent grievous human rights abuses.2

You may argue that true mercy wouldn’t allow people to rest in an unfounded fear, and I agree. But consider this: the fact that you haven’t experienced violence and discrimination and other threats simply because of who you are might make you the wrong person to determine what fears are unfounded. And even if you are the right person, you must do it gently and compassionately. Listen. Empathize. Seriously consider the suffering of the other. Only then can you very gently begin to explain certain areas in which a person is safer than she may feel.

But please don’t sit behind your computer complaining about entitled millennials throwing tantrums. Other people’s pain and fear deserve your respect, even if you don’t understand them. And when you listen with respect, you may find that you come to understand.

 

Edit: This post is about people who are afraid, not people who are enraged or violent. That’s why I spoke only about fear and specifically expressed my rejection of violence.

We’ve been having some trouble in the comments section since I started talking about controversial topics. Maybe before you post something, take a look at this post on how to be kind online.

  1. Somehow, the only negative responses I got on that post were from those I was trying to defend. Can’t win for losing, I suppose. [↩]
  2. Should people be looting and getting violent and burning things? Obviously not. That doesn’t make everyone a violent entitled child. [↩]

Got a Favorite Disney Princess? Meet Your New Favorite Saint.

If there’s one thing I know about kids, it’s that they can be remarkably single-minded. From an hour-long tantrum inspired by tyrannical authorities switching off an electronic device to the uncanny ability to make every conversation about Spiderman, once they fixate, they may be stuck for years.

Which is why we need to get them focused on the right things. Superheroes and construction vehicles are all well and good, but we who are blessed to be part of a 2000-year-old Church have much more to offer our children than Doc McStuffins and Paw Patrol.

What if your kids loved the Saints as much as they love fictional characters? What if they wanted to dress like Isaac Jogues and Catherine of Siena instead of (or in addition to) Batman and Elsa? I’ve been doing my part to share these stories, but it occurred to me that it would help if you used the obsessions they already have to draw them into the lives of the Saints. And since Disney princesses aren’t so very different from Princess Saints, I thought we’d start there. Scroll through to find your (or your child’s) favorite Disney Princess/Lady-who’s-cool-enough-to-be-a-princess and check out the Saint who might be your new bestie.

disney-saints-2

cinderella-germaineCinderella: St. Germaine

I honestly wonder if St. Germaine wasn’t the inspiration for Cinderella. After her mother died when she was a baby, Germaine’s father remarried, a horrid woman named Hortense who deserved her name. She was terribly abusive to her stepdaughter, refusing to feed her, pouring boiling water on her, and laughing when her children put ashes in Germaine’s food. Like Cinderella, Germaine was sweet as can be imagined, sharing what little she had with beggars and even finding it in herself to forgive her stepmother. Like Cinderella, she was rescued from her life of suffering servitude to be wed to a prince, though her happily ever after came through her death at 22, when she was married to the King of Kings; 40 years later, her body was exhumed and discovered to be incorrupt.

rapunzel-barbaraRapunzel: St. Barbara

Like Rapunzel, the beautiful St. Barbara was locked in a tower for years to protect her from her many expected suitors. What her pagan father didn’t expect was that her long hours staring out the window at creation would turn her mind to the creator of all things, convincing her (through the use of her senses and reason) that pagan idols are worthless. She devoted her life to the pursuit of wisdom, refusing all the suitors her father had finally allowed to come calling. Realizing that he’d messed her up, he let her out of the tower to try to make her normal again and was more than a little dismayed when she met several Christians and decided to be baptized. When she began to witness to her father, he rushed upon her with a sword. Despite miraculously avoiding him several times, she was eventually captured, tortured, and martyred by her own father. (Don’t worry, he was struck by lightning shortly afterward.)

pocohontas-kateriPocahontas: St. Kateri Tekakwitha

Okay, so you probably don’t need help to make this connection; it’s basically just their ethnicity. But while Kateri wasn’t as hot as Pocahontas or as loved by raccoons, she’s more of a true heroine than Pocahontas could ever be–even if you read the real story and not the Disney rom-com. Kateri was born to a Christian mother and a pagan father who both died when she was four. The same smallpox epidemic that killed them left her disfigured and nearly blind, in the care of an uncle who despised Christians. She suffered throughout her life for her faith as people spread rumors about her, ridiculed her, and refused her food on Sundays when she was unwilling to work. Finally, she escaped to a Christian village, walking 200 miles so that she could live with the Sacraments, embracing a vow of virginity and a life of prayer. When she died at 24, her pockmarked face was cleared and those who looked at her dead body saw her as radiantly beautiful.

belle-catherineBelle: St. Catherine of Alexandria

Every girl I’ve ever known who loved Belle loved her because of books. And nobody loved books like Catherine of Alexandria, a pagan princess in Egypt who refused to marry because she was too busy reading. As suitors sought to win her and remained unable to distract her from reading, a hermit came by and promised her a man who knew more than was contained in all her books. Catherine was interested in this and allowed the hermit to tell her about Jesus. Entranced, Catherine offered her life and her hand in marriage to the king of kings. When the Roman emperor heard this, he tried to convince her of the error of her ways by sending 150 of the world’s greatest philosophers to debate her; Catherine convinced every one (and the emperor’s wife) of the truth of the Gospel and was eventually martyred herself.

jasmine-casildaJasmine: St. Casilda

The Moors didn’t dress like Jasmine, but neither did whatever culture she’s supposed to be from. In any event, both Jasmine and Casilda are from Muslim countries, so we’ll call it good. The Muslim daughter of a Moorish king, Casilda knew nothing about Christianity until she met Christians imprisoned for their faith and heard the joy they had found in the love of Christ. She longed to become a Christian but her father threatened her with imprisonment, so it seemed there was nothing she could do. Her longing for Christ was so strong that she began to waste away, consumed by an illness no medicine could cure. Finally, her father consented to send her to a healing spring in a Christian country, where Casilda was healed and then baptized. Unable to return home, she became a hermit and lived to be 100.

tiana-henrietteTiana: Ven. Henriette Delille 

Like Tiana, Henriette Delille was a New Orleans-born woman of color (though we wouldn’t know it to look at her) who worked to earn her place in the world. The great-great-granddaughter of a slave, Henriette belonged to an elite class of African-Americans whose daughters were expected to become mistresses to white men. Refusing to submit to such an ungodly arrangement, Henriette founded the Sisters of the Holy Family, a religious community made up of other educated, intelligent women of color. She spent the rest of her life working with the sick and poor, particularly in the African-American community.

mulan-joanMulan: St. Joan of Arc

If you’re drawn to Mulan because she’s Asian, you’ve got a whole host of Saints to choose from. But if it’s the strong femininity/leading men in battle thing, look no further than St. Joan of Arc. (Actually, feel free to look further to the book of Judith. She’s a boss.) It seems silly even to summarize her story, as I’m sure you know that she was a French peasant girl to whom the voices of St. Michael, St. Margaret, and St. Catherine of Alexandria (see above) spoke. She was told to lead France to victory in the Hundred Years War. Unlike Mulan, Joan was not seeking to impersonate a man–her strength lay in her ability to serve the Lord as a woman, even though he called her to an unusual role. As with Mulan, her story ends gloriously in fire, though Joan didn’t walk away from her fire. Always a hero to France, it took 500 years before she was canonized by the universal church.

merida-margaretMerida: St. Margaret of Scotland

A queen of Scotland is the obvious choice for Merida, but it helps that St. Margaret also had rather a strong personality. She entered Scotland a shipwrecked princess and proceeded to refuse marriage for several years before consenting to marry King Malcom. As queen, she managed to introduce courtly manners to the less-than-couth Scottish nobles. She also brought the Church in Scotland out of a near schism, washed the feet of beggars every day in Advent and Lent, prayed like a nun, and raised eight children, one of whom went on to become a Saint himself. But mostly it’s the Scottish thing.

jane-helenaJane: St. Helena

Though not exactly a princess, Jane (of Tarzan fame) is quite the compelling character. She’s intelligent, brave, and adventurous, just like St. Helena, mother of the Roman emperor Constantine. Having witnessed the degradation of Christianity at the hands of the Roman nobility, Helena traveled to the Holy Land at an advanced age to search for the True Cross. That makes her an empress, an adventurer, and an archaeologist–no dainty, decorative princess here.

megara-pulcheriaMegara: St. Pulcheria

Meg’s always been a favorite of mine, and it’s not just the name. She’s sassy, cynical, and single, just like me! Take out the selling-your-soul-to-the-devil thing, and we’re a perfect match. But it’s her intelligence that has me pairing her with St. Pulcheria, a woman who reigned as empress in Constantinople not because of her marriage but because of her brilliance. She ruled along with her brother the emperor until his death, at which point they asked her to continue in her position. A consecrated virgin, Pulcheria always made prayer her top priority, even in the midst of important affairs of state. This prayerfulness gave her such wisdom in divine things that Pope St. Leo the Great asked her to speak before the ecumenical Council of Chalcedon in order to help the bishops better understand the nature of Christ. A woman like that could outsmart the devil himself.

esmeralda-catherineEsmeralda: Bl. Catherine Jarrige

Unfortunately, the only gypsy on the path to canonization is a man (Bl. Ceferino), but a woman who loved to dance when she was young and spent her adulthood deceiving corrupt agents of the state sounds like a good match for Esmeralda. Bl. Catherine served the poor as a third order Dominican (kind of a lay nun) but is best known for her work to protect priests during the anti-clerical French Revolution. She would sometimes pretend to be a drunken vagrant to distract the authorities and is said to have saved thousands of priests from the guillotine through her quick wit and acting ability. (Click the link–she’s fantastic.)

As for the others, I’m at a loss. There are obviously no mermaid Saints, no Saints who slept for 100 years, no Saints who lived with seven dwarves, and no ice-magic-working Saints (though St. Catherine of Sweden was at least a Nordic queen). For Ana and Elsa, you could try Sts. Perpetua and Felicity, since at least they come in a pair? But a very different pair. Sleeping Beauty could be Jairus’ daughter from Mark chapter 5.1 I bet there are some good medieval legends that could supply us with some alternatives, but for now we’ll just have to steer our girls away from Ariel (because she’s the worst) to better princesses and marvelous Saints.

So there you have it, friends What other suggestions would you make?

  1. This was my niece’s favorite Bible story because I would wrap her up in a sheet, pretend she was dead, then say, “Little girl, arise!” and hold one end of the sheet while she spun out. It’s not pink and blue fairies, but it was always good for a laugh. [↩]

Coaching Olympians (On Giving Advice You Have no Business Giving)

I’m amazed by Olympians. Their talent, focus, dedication, faith, and humanity—they’re incredible. But in many ways, I’m more amazed by their coaches. 65 years old and you’re telling the world’s greatest athletes what to do? That takes guts.

Take gymnastics. I mean, obviously Marta Karolyi is a legend. And I’m sure Simone Biles’s coach is brilliant. But I know for sure and for certain that they can’t do the things she does—never could. And yet she listens to them.

Watching Simone’s coaches got me thinking about my pathetic attempt to teach my nephew how to do a cartwheel. Now, I haven’t been able to do a cartwheel for years. I thought I could until about a decade ago, when I showed some of my students and was not-so-gently disabused of that notion. And now it’s worse. I tried to show John Paul what to do (with some caveats that his legs, unlike mine, should be straight) and ended up landing on my butt.

I can’t do a cartwheel. That doesn’t keep me from telling him how to.

John Paul is so satisfied with his cartwheel that he asked me to Instagram it. Now THAT’S confidence! #tc2crew

A video posted by Rosie Hill (@rosiehill425) on

It’s like this in a lot of areas in my life. People ask my advice on marriage, parenting, prayer, humility, evangelization, you name it. I’m no expert in any of those areas. When it comes to marriage and humility, I have no personal experience at all. And yet, I’ve always got advice.

I’m sure this is an obnoxious trait. But many of us have just the opposite problem: we refuse to advise our friends, even when asked, because we’re not experts. We watch people flounder, unwilling to throw them a line, because we don’t want to presume.

It seems the height of arrogance, giving someone advice on something you can’t yourself do. And yet, as every coach at the Olympics shows us, it isn’t, necessarily. Because wisdom comes from more than just personal experience. If you’re one who’s hesitant to put your oar in, read on for a little encouragement. If you refuse to listen to anyone who hasn’t been through exactly what you’re going through, you might also find this helpful.(If you’re like me and have oars out in every direction, might be best to close this window and move on.)

No, I can’t do a cartwheel, but I can come close.

I may never have done a cartwheel, but I can tell you a few things. I can tell you that you should lead with your dominant hand and foot. I can tell you to keep your legs straight. I can tell you not to land on your butt.

Kinda start like this but without the gun. Right?
Kinda start like this but without the gun. Right?

And even though my cartwheel isn’t good, I can tell you some of the things I’ve corrected to make it better. It’s the same with prayer. I’m terribly distracted at prayer. If you’re looking for advice from a mystic, keep looking. But my prayer is less pathetic than it used to be. So I can give you advice on posture and timing and what to focus on. I can tell you silence is more important than words, not because I usually manage to be silent but because I’ve had moments where I have.

When you give advice from your limited experience, acknowledge that it’s probably flawed. But also own the fact that you might have some pretty worthwhile things to say. Basic, perhaps, but helpful nonetheless.

No, I can’t do a cartwheel, but I’ve watched lots of other people.

I may not be able to do it myself, but I know that if you bend your arms, you’ll end up propped up on your head. I know that putting your legs together turns it into a roundoff. From watching other people do it right (and wrong), I have a sense of cartwheels.

married
Not the right time to give advice.

I’ve never been married, but I’ve been invited into lots and lots of homes and talked with lots and lots of married people. I’m sure you’re much the same way. You don’t have to have dated an abusive person to know when someone should get out. You don’t have to be married to an introvert to know that introverts need more space. Having loved people who’ve gone through these experiences can give you all kinds of insight.

In fact, sometimes people who have no personal experience are better equipped to give advice. I hear people say all the time that priests should be married because you can’t give marriage advice unless you’ve lived it. I’m sure that helps in some ways, but it also makes it much harder not to project your marriage’s issues onto every other.

Priests can stand outside their own experience and give you wisdom gleaned from walking with a hundred different couples. Just like you don’t necessarily need to be a recovering addict to counsel addicts, you don’t necessarily need to have lived something to understand someone else’s struggle.

No, I can’t do a cartwheel, but I’ve read some books.

Are there books about cartwheels? Probably.

I do like books.
I do like books.

But there are definitely books about prayer and relationships and starting your own business. It’s okay to share thoughts from what you’ve read, to quote a great Saint, or to lend out a copy of a favorite book.

Is it as helpful as sharing your life experience? Maybe not. But then again, maybe it is. Because your life experience is often based on one personality type interacting in one situation. But the words of an expert or the reflections of a Saint are usually filled with wisdom that ordinary people like us haven’t yet managed to amass.

No, I can’t do a cartwheel; let’s ask someone who can.

One perk of not being Simone Biles’s coach is that you actually have access to people who can do what you’re trying to coach. Maybe I can’t do a cartwheel, but I can call in just about any 12-year-old on the planet and ask their help.

You can pass your friends off to someone who knows better, sure. That’s really helpful. But you can also introduce them to Saints who had the same struggles. You can give them new intercessors and also new models of living. It’s all well and good for me to encourage an alcoholic to stay sober, but getting to know Matt Talbot is going to be a totally different experience for them. He suffered as they suffer and, by the grace of God, triumphed.

No, I can’t do a cartwheel. Try somebody else.

Sometimes, you just have to acknowledge your limitations. This is also part of being a good friend. Sometimes you just have to listen and love and weep and pray and keep your mouth shut. It’s awfully frustrating just to say, “Yeah. I know. That’s so hard. Oh, sweetie,” again and again, but sometimes that’s your job, either because you have no advice to give or because you can’t handle being the one who gives it.

Maybe send people to these two. They seem like they know a lot about life.
Maybe send people to these two. They seem like they know a lot about life.

There are Olympians who have the same coach for 15 years. Others move on to new coaches and that’s okay, too. It takes great humility for the coach of their childhood to let somebody else lead them to glory, but the great ones have it in them to move away and leave others in the limelight. Before you speak, pray: has God given you wisdom for this situation? Or is it time to step back? Sometimes the best you can do is acknowledge your inadequacy and pray that the right person comes along to speak truth.

 

Now I don’t mean to say, of course, that novices are experts or that couch potatoes should be Olympic coaches. I just think that we ought to consider that perhaps it’s worth listening to the stay-at-home mom telling you how to manage your employees, the scrawny guy with tips on weight lifting, and the animal expert who’s never owned a pet. Maybe they’ve got unexpected people skills, PhDs in kinesiology, or dear friends who are dog trainers. And if you’re one of the above, maybe it’s time to accept that you might have something worthwhile to say. Often it’s harder to speak than it is to remain silent, but it’s possible that God made you to shine from the sidelines. It’s certainly something to pray on.

And now, let the Olympics of listening graciously to unsolicited advice begin!

3 Ways to Evangelize like an Olympian

I’m obsessed with the Olympics. 14 of my last 15 posts on my personal Facebook page have been about the Olympics. I’m currently camped out at my friend’s house in eastern Montana while she’s away on vacation, mostly so I can watch the Olympics undisturbed for 4 days.1 I’ve been looking into Olympic podcasts so I can listen to the tearjerking stories while I drive. With the refugee team and Simone Manuel blazing a trail and Simone Biles dominating like nobody before, it’s no wonder I’m hooked.

Michelle CarterBut there’s more to it than just national pride and feel-good moments. Again and again, as I sit on my butt eating popcorn for dinner, I watch these incredible athletes take the 30 seconds they’ll ever have on camera and use them to praise the Lord. Take Michelle Carter, gold medalist in shot put. Can you name one shot-putter ever? Can you even name Michelle Carter, the day after she won? This woman has this moment and only this moment, and she pointed to Jesus.

JohnsonDavid Boudia and Steele Johnson turn every interview into a proclamation of the Gospel. Simone Manuel gives a new dream to every little Black girl in America and gives glory to God. Every Brazilian athlete seems to be crossing himself. And night after night the name of Jesus Christ is spoken by anchors as we see his image above Rio de Janeiro. These, it seems, are God’s Olympics.

I’m not surprised to see how many athletes love the Lord–he’s rather marvelous, after all. What’s impressive to me is that they’ve clearly planned their remarks, to some degree, and their top priority is to speak the name of Jesus. This doesn’t happen by accident–it happens because lovers of God plan ahead and are intentional about giving God glory.

Simone ManuelListen to the way some of them are talking–it’s awkward. These aren’t people who just happen to be comfortable talking about God; they’ve made a deliberate choice, planned their witness, and carried it out, unrelated as it may be to the question they’re supposed to be answering. They’re not natural-born evangelists. They’re not all clever or eloquent or well-equipped to witness to the Lord, they’re just intentional.

So what? So you can be, too. One of the greatest obstacles I find Catholics face when trying to evangelize is that they have no idea how to start. They’re not necessarily afraid of talking about Jesus; perhaps they are and they’re just ready to fight through the fear. But however willing they are, they just have no idea where to start.

“Did you see the preview for the new Star Wars movie?”

“Um I REALLY LOVE JESUS!”

“…k.”

There are times when you really ought to sit somebody you love down to have a serious conversation about God and love and sin and mercy. But those aren’t daily occurrences. More often, it’s the little things, the quick asides or the personal stories or the mention of Mass, that gives someone who’s questioning an opportunity to ask.

But we’re not trained to recognize these opportunities, so they slide by and we spend hours and hours with people without once mentioning the Person we love most. So what can we do about it? Mimic the Olympians and be prepared. Here are a few ways to do that:

1. Change your language.

A simple first step is just to add your love of God into your constant conversation. When something good happens, respond, “Praise God!” instead of “Sweet!” When someone comments that something’s gone well for you, instead of saying, “I guess I’m lucky,” try, “God takes really good care of me.” When there’s yet another tragedy, go with, “God, help us,” or, “Lord, have mercy,” instead of profanity. When congratulated, “God is very good.” Little things like that build up into a culture of mentioning Jesus and make it clear that you’re a person of faith.

2. Prepare for specific questions.

When I meet new people, I’m ready. They’re going to ask, “Where are you from?” I’m going to answer, “Well, I’m originally from Washington, D.C. but now I’m a missionary so I live out of my car.” Ball’s in your court, friend. Want to talk about Jesus?

You probably don’t have such an obvious opening as that (unless you work for the Church or are studying theology or something). Most of the time people ask you ordinary questions and you give ordinary answers. But could you give deeper answers?

Option A:
“So, what do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a lawyer.”
Option B:
“So, what do you do?”
“Law’s my day job. But my heart’s in youth ministry/street evangelization/marriage prep retreats.”

Option A:
“How’d you guys end up in Tennessee?”
“I got a job at the college down the road and after I moved on from that job we ended up staying.”
Option B:
“How’d you guys end up in Tennessee?”
“I got a job at the college down the road. But when it was time to move on from that job, the Lord just made it really clear that he wanted us here.”

Option A:
“Got any travel plans this summer?”
“I’m not really sure yet. We’re thinking about….”
Option B:
“Got any travel plans this summer?”
“I’ve been praying about that. I’d really like to go visit this church in Wisconsin where they say the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared. Have you heard about it?” (Note: I didn’t say pilgrimage or shrine or apparition–don’t use insider lingo!)

This doesn’t mean you launch into a script and ignore the person you’re talking to. It just means that you consider in advance what everyday conversations are opportunities for you to share about what God has done in your life.

3. Don’t censor yourself.

Sometimes the easiest way to witness to the Gospel is just being real with the people around us. But we don’t want to make them uncomfortable, so we censor the Jesus part of our lives to avoid making a scene. But think about it: if somebody loves you, they want to hear about the important stuff in your life, even if they’re not interested in those things.

Think about it this way: this year, Leicester City Football Club beat impossible odds (5,000 to 1) to become Premier League Champions (basically win the Superbowl after going 0-8). If you’re a Leicester fan and you have a buddy who hates soccer/football, you’re not just going to pretend nothing happened. You’re not going to go on for 2 hours, but you’ll mention it, talk about it for a few minutes, and then respect his lack of interest by moving on. And if he’s any kind of a friend, he’ll be glad to hear you talk about something that excites you so much.

The love of God is more incredible than any athletic Cinderella story, more life-changing, more lasting. And yet we censor it out of our conversations. Maybe one step in evangelizing like an Olympian is just not to leave it out. When someone asks about your weekend, mention that you went to confession. Share one thing you heard in the homily. Talk about the conference you went to.

If you’re prepared for this, it can be more than just a throwaway line. When you encounter God in a powerful way, figure out a two sentence way to share it–and the love of God that inspired it.

“I went to confession on Saturday. It’s just amazing to know that God loves me enough to forgive me no matter what. Then I went to a concert and….”

“My trip abroad? It was amazing! There was this one little town where we saw the incorrupt body of a Saint. 150 years and it hasn’t decayed at all! And she was just some nobody but God even loves nobodies.”

“My favorite artist is Jimmy Needham. He’s got this great soulful feel to him and his lyrics just wreck me, they’re so full of the love of God.”

Now all of those could be things you say and then give your friend an opportunity to question or respond. Or you can gauge their comfort level and change the subject yourself. But don’t do them the disservice of ignoring the most important things in your life; that’s not friendship.

My approach to evangelization (believe it or not) tends to be less beat-down-the-door and more open-the-door-a-crack-and-step-back. All I’m trying to do is start a conversation. If you don’t want to have that conversation, cool, let’s talk about The Office. But I think most of us let countless opportunities slide past because we aren’t prepared.

If there’s one thing I learn from the Olympics, it’s that I’m a lazy slob who thinks she deserves a round of applause for standing up. But this year, I’m learning something else: all it takes to be a mouthpiece for the Spirit is a lot of openness and a little intentionality. So I’m going to challenge you all:

  1. Come up with one phrase to incorporate into your daily conversation that opens things up a little more to the Lord.
  2. Think of 2 everyday questions that you can answer by talking (even just a little) about Jesus.
  3. Each weekend, take a look back at the past week to see 3 areas where God was working. Figure out how (if the situation is right) you can briefly describe these experiences in a way that shares God’s love for people.
  4. Evangelize like an Olympian!!

Any other tips for simple ways to share the name of Jesus? Got other examples of questions and answers that can be opportunities for evangelization? Please share in the comments!

  1. Side note: quickest way to make me love you? Invite me to stay at your house while you’re gone, giving me my first vacation in 2 years. I’ll even water your plants! [↩]

From One Refugee to Another

The other day, I was scrolling through Facebook and stumbled across this reflection from a young man I met while hoboing, reprinted here with permission. I think Stephen’s thoughts are important in terms of both our response to refugees and our understanding of our relationship to this world. He’s not talking about the politics of how to vet refugees or help them to integrate into society, he’s talking about compassion. I’m convicted.

The statement about how America is a nation of refugees and immigrants and therefore it is fundamental that we should open our doors to the needy is important, as is the argument that Christians should extend charity to the needy regardless of whether they are our countryman or a foreigner because all people are our neighbors, but I want to point out a problem with both of these arguments for the Christian. Actually, a fundamental problem with these arguments from the perspective of any Abrahamic religion. Bear with me.

Both these arguments, “we are Americans/we are Christians: our country should be welcoming,” are fundamentally false because, for any follower of Abraham’s God, this is not our country.

IMG_20151208_154307A refugee is someone who has lost their native land and has been forced to wander, looking for a home. To be human is to be a refugee because this is not our true country. We are not citizens of this earth. Once we were, but those days have long been lost to us. Ever since we willingly gave the throne of this world to the Adversary we have been refugees in flight, desperately seeking a new country.

Now for Christians there is hope. We believe Jesus came into the world, laid siege to the bastion of Satan, and broke through. He has called us to a new home, our true Home, beyond this world. There we are seeking to be, not here.

So please, my brothers and sisters in Christ, remember this: when you consider helping a person in need you are not considering welcoming a refugee into your home. You cannot. You have no home. You are extending a hand to a fellow refugee as you both flee the same evil, and perhaps sharing with him the Way to safety. You and he are both in flight, and both hope against all hope that when you reach the walls of the True Country its Ruler will be merciful and open the gate.

Stephen Brown is a Christian, a husband, a father, and a med student, hopefully in that order.

Why the World Is Obsessed with Pope Francis and Kim Davis

Last week, the Holy Father came to America and everybody fell in love. It didn’t matter what he said or who ought to have been offended, everybody was talking and almost everyone was effusive. People adore Pope Francis. And the buzz when he left got us all wondering: is this our renaissance? Will we look back on this week as the week that sparked the rebirth of the American Catholic Church?

But the news cycle finished, the media drunk on papal elixir sobered up, and they remembered that we’re the Church they love to hate.

And then they heard about Kim Davis. And they pounced.

Screen Shot 2015-10-04 at 3.59.09 PM

And suddenly the Pope of Mercy is a fiend again. Or a fool. Or whatever else your narrative requires. And we’re back to picking at whatever point we think gives us permission to ignore the Gospel. Or we’re harping on whatever doctrine proves our superiority. Why??

Because it’s easier.

When Pope Francis was here, we all saw so much more than just him. We looked at him and saw Jesus. When he grinned at those special needs kids, we felt how the Father loves us, even when we’re sure we don’t deserve it. When he blessed those convicts, we knew that God’s mercy was reaching out to us no matter what. When he served lunch to the homeless, we saw how our Savior longs to serve us, to lay down his life for us. When he spoke with such joy and passion, we felt the Holy Spirit stirring into flame the fire he lit in us at our baptism. We saw mercy and truth and hope and powerful love. We were drawn to that. All of us. And that’s a scary thing.

Because if we really come to know the Lord, our lives have to change. And nobody wants that. But you can’t argue against Jesus Christ. You can’t argue against the love in his eyes or the mercy he offers or the way he leads you to the Father.

You know what you can argue against? Infant baptism. The Immaculate Conception. The Church’s teachings on sexuality. The preferential option for the poor. Those things you can argue against. So when your Savior is staring you in the eyes, welcoming you home, begging you to be healed, you change the subject.

“You are deeply loved.”

“Yeah, well only bigots oppose same-sex marriage!!”

“You were made for more.”

“You can’t tell me I have too much money. That’s communism!”

“I died for love of you.”

“It’s awfully legalistic to demand that people go to Mass every Sunday, really. Pharisaical, I’d say.”

stopped going

That’s what we’re seeing right now. Pope Francis spoke the love of Jesus to the hearts of the American people and we had to choose between conversion and diversion. Enter Kim Davis. And the same sex couple he met with. And the gay monsignor on the eve of the Synod. Oh, good. Now we can go back to flinging mud at each other and nobody has to worry about becoming holy. Isn’t that comfortable?

It’s tragic.

And it’s typical.

It’s not just typical of the way we deal with the Pope. It’s not just typical of the media.It’s typical of every one of us. We’re afraid of the transforming love of Jesus so we get caught up in the details–either denying or defending–so we can stay comfortable.

We try to evangelize by leading with moral restrictions and we’re shocked when most people walk away unchanged. Because rules don’t change people. Only Jesus changes people.

We explain the Trinity with startling eloquence and wonder why RCIA isn’t bursting at the seams. Because somehow we’ve described the essence of God without speaking of his heart.

We spend our days debating the merits of lace on cassocks or decrying the “new” emphasis on the environment and not a word of it has anything to do with the Gospel.

Benedict encounter

This is the heart of Christianity: Jesus Christ. God made man to die and rise for love of you. You are loved beyond imagining by a God who died to know you. That’s worth dying for.

And that means chastity. And it means poverty. And obedience. It means pro-life and pro-peace and pro-marriage. These things are true. But it’s possible to be distracted by the truth. The Gospel is not sobriety or apologetics or caring for refugees, much though those issues are a necessary response to the truth of God’s love. And none of those things is the Gospel, nor does it do anything but distract from the Gospel if it isn’t all tied up in the love of God.

We serve the poor because they are loved by God. We confess our sins because God’s mercy is so powerful that he wants us to hear it out loud. We save sex for marriage because it’s a sign of God’s never-ending love.

Every single thing the Catholic Church teaches is about the love of God. And every single thing the Catholic Church teaches can be used to distract us from the love of God if we forget ourselves, just like Pope Francis’ brief encounter with Kim Davis is pulling people’s hearts away from the image he is of Christ. We have to choose, every time those petty voices pipe up again, to focus ourselves back on the image of Christ. If you find yourself in a Facebook argument,1 speak always about the love of Christ. If you’re discouraged by the apparent stagnation of Church doctrine, ask yourself what it’s trying to show about the love of Christ. When your sins threaten to drown you, remember the love of Christ. When the sinners you love are too much, entrust them to the love of Christ.

Jesus on the Cross

May the love of Jesus be ever on our minds, on our lips, and in our hearts. Church, let’s remember that the doctrines and disciplines and commandments and traditions exist only because of the love of Christ. Let’s stop losing the forest for the trees.

Why is the world obsessed with Pope Francis and Kim Davis? Because the devil couldn’t get us to stop talking about Pope Francis, so he got us to stop talking about Jesus instead. Don’t let him win.

  1. And I generally don’t recommend that you do so. [↩]

#Lovewins

I’m sorry if you clicked through because you wanted my reaction on yesterday’s ruling.1 I’m not here to talk about the news. Or rather, I am.

Last week, a terrorist walked into a church and continued a long line of crimes against Black Americans. This week, emboldened arsonists continued the attack on Black churches while almost a thousand people died from the heatwave in Pakistan. Yesterday, ISIS seems to have carried out coordinated attacks in 3 countries.

#Lovewins

It’s been all over social media, being shouted from the rooftops by people radiant with joy for their futures and wild with excitement for their friends and just proud of their country. “Love wins!” they shout, as they dance and cheer and celebrate love.

And we whose reaction is less celebratory nod and smile, perhaps in spite of ourselves. There is much we may disagree on, but in this we can rejoice together: Love wins.

It has nothing to do with the news today. Or rather, it does, but it’s old News.

Love won two thousand years ago when he became flesh to cry out his Love for us. Each time he consoled adulteresses or welcomed Pharisees, Love won. He healed and corrected and challenged and gave life because Love wins.

Love won that black day when he took our sin upon him and destroyed our death. He shattered the hold sin had over us, ransoming our souls and winning us for the Father who is Love.

lovewins Jesus_crucifiedLove won when he broke the bonds of death and emerged victorious from the grave. He won when he came back for us, reminding us that not our denial or our doubt or our outright betrayal of him could stop his Love.

lovewins_empty_tombLove wins every time we see a person and not a label. Love wins when we refuse to define people by their sin or their closed-mindedness or their bank statement or their dress size or their age or their ability. Love wins when we too console adulteresses and welcome Pharisees. In each moment of reconciliation, of generosity, of compassion, of witness to the truth, of mercy, Love wins.

Despite evil and hatred and war and disease, Love wins. Because not even death can end his merciful Love. In the face of a world gone crazy with rage, we stand before the void and cry out this truth: Love wins. Because Satan has been defeated and the victory is ours. Because the victory of Love is not a victory of feelings but the promise that Love will never leave us or forsake us, that in spite of our feelings Love has triumphed and will fight for us until our last moment and perhaps beyond.

lovewins Eucharist_monstranceLove won last week in Charleston when victims stood up and forgave the one who murdered their loved ones. In a moment of mercy that will become a lifetime of trying again to forgive, they showed us just what it means when we say that Love wins: it means that Love is always more powerful than hatred, even when it seems hatred is triumphant. Evil has forgotten about the eternal epilogue.

And Love will win on the last day, when he drags every sorry soul he can get his pierced hands on into the kingdom. Despite our pettiness and our ugliness, despite our constant rejection of his Love and our desperation for cheap imitations of it, he will win.

Perhaps it’s more a cry of hope than a jeer of triumph, this declaration that Love wins. It’s the promise that the gates of hell will not prevail, not that they won’t seem to. It’s a challenge to us never to speak (or tweet) from bitterness or judgment or despair but to let God be God and trust in a love that makes us new.

Whether you found yesterday glorious or discouraging,2 in the end Love wins. Our task is to live for that Love. Whatever side you’re on, drop your weapons. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. You want Love to win? Live like it.

  1. But let’s be real. If you agree with me, you already know everything I’m going to say. And if you disagree, today’s not the day you’re going to listen. [↩]
  2. And either way, I love you. But forget me–Jesus loves you like crazy! [↩]