Journeys of a Catholic Poster Girl

Happy All Saints’ Day, friends. Don’t you love this feast?
I do–as a kid I always thought it was weird to be juxtaposed with halloween (sacred and profane, and all that), but as I grew older and realized how important the saints are to us, and how close they are, I’ve really grown to love this feast.

Here are the three saints I’m celebrating this year:

St. Therese of the Child Jesus, as always. She was the saint I chose at my confirmation, and the more I learn about here, the more I fall in love with her. She’s the most popular saint of modern times for a reason. If you’re looking for a good book on her, I recommend this one.  And there’s the movie!

St. Francis is the saint I have been studying this year. I got the idea from “Around the Year With the Von Trapp Family” to pick a saint every first Sunday of Advent that you will study during the year. I chose St. Francis since, at that time, I was applying to Franciscan University and wanted to learn more about St. Francis and the order he founded. This book is a good introduction, and this movie (also featuring St. Clare) is fantastic. (Also, in my family, my grandfather’s name is Francis, and it is my brother’s middle name.)

And finally, St. Dominic, whom, as we know from here, I have been studying. Right now I don’t have any books or movies to recomment, except–say the rosary! This great gift was given by Mary to St. Dominic, and is such a powerful prayer.

In addition to these, there is also St. Emily and St. Michael the Archangel, who are my name saints (Michele is my mom’s name, and my middle name.)

What about you? Who are your special saints?

Talking about new religious avenues for myself over here.

Today I went to noon Mass at St. Joseph’s downtown. I made a promise to myself to go more often, so…no day like today, right?

Usually I like to get there early so I can say my rosary (or most of it) in front of the tabernacle, in the Eucharistic chapel. There’s just something about praying my rosary there, in front of Jesus in the tabernacle, that makes it that much more special for me, and I feel so much closer to Our Lord. So this is an important time for me. I tend to work out big problems while doing this, too.

So I was praying, per usual, when I saw a nun and a little girl. I couldn’t tell what order the nun was with–I didn’t recognize her habit (grey head scarf/pieces, whatever it’s called now, a sort of lighter-gray, dark white dress, rope around the waist, wooden rosary also at waist). The nun, who looked about my age, was pointing things out to the little girl, and, when they reached the chapel, the nun showed her how to genuflect and make the Sign of the Cross. I’m guessing the girl was about three or four.

The sister and the child attended the Mass (today’s the feast day of St. Bartholemew, BTW), and I sat in front of her. During the peace we shook hands. She had the most radiant, calm, peaceful face. And she was very friendly and obviously patient, to take the little girl around like that.

Seeing a nun–in habit!–worshipping and teaching like that was a good insertion to my day. It also helped me stick to my resolve to be more prayerful, more in tune with God.

Surrender is hard.

OK , we knew that. If anything about Christianity was easy, then a lot more people would be good Christians–myself included.

Today at Mass we heard the end of John Chapter 6, which we’ve been reading all month, also known as the “Bread of Life” discourse, where Jesus gives us great Eucharistic theology–”My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink”.

John tells us that many of the disciples stopped following Jesus after this–the saying was “too hard”. But when Jesus spoke to the twelve–”Do you also wish to go away?” Peter said, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.”

Peter is an interesting apostle. He can be brilliant–here, and when he says that Jesus is “The Christ, the son of God”, in Matthew, –and he can also be breathtakingly stupid–telling Jesus not to go to Jerusalem, “thinking as men think”–or just way out of it–wanting to build the booths for Moses, Jesus and Elijah on Tabor.

But the thing I like about Peter is that he falls, and then gets back up and does it all again. He denies Jesus three times, but then goes on to be Pope, and to be crucified. Peter is entirely, wonderfully human.

When I think about surrender, I think about what Peter said in today’s gospel. Where else can we go? If you are Christian, you believe that Jesus is “The way, the truth, and the life.” That’s it. No other way. Only Jesus can take us to the Father. So we follow him, because he has the words that Peter was talking about–the ones of life.

But to really follow him, we have to give everything, and follow him. Sell it all, leave family and friends, and, most importantly, leave behind self.

But we like ourselves, don’t we? For the most part, anyway. There are things I don’t like about myself, but for the most part, I like how God made me. And if God made me this way, then why do I have to give it up, to follow him?

Again, we get Peter and Jesus:

[Jesus] said to [Peter] the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” (Jesus) said to him, “Feed my sheep.  Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (Jn. 21:17-18, NAB)

Where you do not want to go.

That’s the thing. It’s not that we mind “dying” to self, if that means giving up those irritating habits, and becoming a “nicer” Person, someone who “does what Jesus would do.”

But dying to self means just that–dying to it. In Peter’s case, he would be led to a cross, just like Jesus.

And I think we know what surrender means. And we don’t want to go.

It’s hard to surrender. I haven’t done it. I might think I’ve done it, but then someone reminds me that everything comes in God’s time, and God is in control, and then I sit there going, “yup. I’m dumb.”

He knows everything. And I know just about nothing. But I always think I know better. Just like Peter.

From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.

Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.”

He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.

For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life?

For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay everyone according to his conduct.

Some of you long-time readers may remember my first silence retreat experience.

I didn’t take one last year, and I regretted it. Didn’t want to make that mistake again.

So, in April, I’ll be heading to our diocese’s St. Therese Retreat Center for a weekened of silence, prayer and reflection with women from throughout the diocese.

If you live in the Columbus Diocese, and would like to sign up, there’s still time! More information, and a printable, mailable registration form, can be found here.

I am very much looking forward to this, especially since it comes soon after my birthday. It will be a lovely time to pray and reflect.

or, The Lightness of Spirit After A Good Confession
Recently I’ve been trying to go to Confession more. Not that I’ve suddenly taken to committing adultery and coveting my neighbor’s goods, but I thought it would be a fruitful spiritual practice. My sins, as they are, are more of the omission type in nature–things I should have done, but didn’t–or things that are small, but erode the soul. Petty things.

But I hadn’t been in awhile. One of the things about doing shows is that time for Confession is usually time for rehearsal. Or time to recover from said rehearsal. So I hadn’t been.

Last Thursday I went to St. Joseph’s in downtown Columbus, and went. The Cathedral offers confession on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it’s about three blocks from my office. So down I went, on a lovely spring day.

There was a bit of a line, so I pulled out my rosary and prayed the Luminous Mysteries. As I prayed, the cathedral organist was practicing in the choir loft. More people joined the line. The sun found its way through the stained glass windows and fractured into rainbow colors on the old floor.

After I finished the mysteries, it was my turn.

My confession was short, and the penance even shorter. But the particular priest who was giving confessions that day did a marvelous job. Through his ministry I felt forgiven, cleansed, ready to head into the second half of Lent with a deeper purpose. The doubts and misgivings I’d had over the past few weeks seemed…lessened. Burdens lifted.

After I left the reconciliation chapel, I headed to the tabernacle to say my prayers.  I particularly love praying before this tabernacle–it’s in a tiny alcove, atop a marble slab carved with DaVinci’s Last Supper. Angels encircle the tabernacle, which is a brilliant gold.

I knelt on one of the prie-dieus and said my short prayers. Adoration that day was truly that–adoring the Godhead in the Eucharist. I wished I could stay for Mass and receive Him!

As I went back to my office, I felt renewed, lighter, happier…more at peace.

From First Things: (my emphases in bold)

When Not Aborting Is Immoral

Posted by Keith Pavlischek on September 19, 2008, 4:34 PM

From over on starboard side, Nicholas Provenzo of the Center for the Advancement of Capitalism is “troubled” by the implications of Gov. Sarah Palin’s “decision to knowingly give birth to a child disabled with Down syndrome.” He thinks “it is crucial to reaffirm the morality of aborting a fetus diagnosed with Down syndrome (or by extension, any unborn fetus)—a freedom that anti-abortion advocates seek to deny.” Here’s his line of thinking:  

A parent has a moral obligation to provide for his or her children until these children are equipped to provide for themselves. Because a person afflicted with Down syndrome is only capable of being marginally productive (if at all) and requires constant care and supervision, unless a parent enjoys the wealth to provide for the lifetime of assistance that their child will require, they are essentially stranding the cost of their child’s life upon others.

 (me: So, I guess I shouldn’t be here, right, because, you know, some CF people are only “marginally productive.” Who in the world has the right to say what is and what is not productive? How can we be so callous as to reduce human life to production, to economic terms!?)

 

Meanwhile, on the port side, Paul Ehrlich, author of “The Population Bomb,” treats us to this little thought:

I believe it is immoral and should be illegal for people to have very large numbers of children because they are then co-opting for themselves and their children resources that should be spread elsewhere in the world. You only get a chance to get your fair share. 

To the follow-up question, “How many is ‘very large’”? Ehrlich responds:

The issue is: What is the political position to take? In a country like the United States, we should stop at two. But if you had an ideal situation, you might have a lot of people who have no children at all, and some people who have as many as three or four because they happen to be particularly good parents, and are going to raise their children very well. 

Me: OK, so let’s make this a bit less hypothetical. 

“Let’s stop at two”–that means neither of my parents, both the third child in their families, wouldn’t have been born. 

On my mom’s side, more specifically, that means that my Uncle Tim and my Aunts Sue, Patty, Mary, and Amy would not have been born. Hence I would not have my fantastic aunts and uncles, I would not have my godfather, and I would not have my godson. My grandparents, instead of having 25 grandchildren to love, would have four–Julie, Jeff, Diane and Megan–and four great-grandchildren. 

If, by some miracle, my parents did squeak by, then my little sister would not have been born. Sorry, Mel. Neither would the siblings of many of my friends, especially in the families where the first two children are twins.  

What kind of absolute nonsense is this!? People can have as many kids as they want without subjecting the number to some government entity. Yes, you should be able to take care of the kids you bring into the world. I am not advocating that we all go out and produce like rabbits, here. But NO ONE can tell me or anyone else how many kids to have!

Side note: The social entitlements that the Left so enjoys are funded mainly by–guess what–tax receipts. If you have a growing aging population and a shrinking young population, then you do not have the resources to provide for these massive entitlements, like Social Security and Medicare. Look to Europe–as the birth rate declines, so does their inability to support their massive welfare states. 

The Bible says that Children are a blessing from the Lord–they are a reward! We are to “be fruitful and multiply.” The scathing comments about people with big families, people who trust in God’s providence, and who procreate, are just sickening. 

If I was married I would want at least three kids, and maybe four! I love my big family. I love my siblings. Big families are good training grounds for life. 

This sort of thinking is dangerous and needs to be stopped, pronto. Sure the environment and all that is important, but human beings are more so. 

As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he not his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.

Today’s Gospel is my favorite Gospel passage, since it reflects so neatly upon my own experience. Many people today share the same feelings as the disciples–if you have an illness, or are experiencing difficulties and trials, you must have “done something” to deserve them. Because God is a good and just God, so why would anyone endure trials or sufferings if they didn’t deserve them?

A corollary is also seen–people who are “oppressed and afflicted” (Isaiah 52) wonder what they have to done to offend God. “Why me, God?” can be a frequent cry (see the Book of Job). And here, Jesus provides the answer: “so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

In Catholicism, Suffering is not Suffering for its own sake. As John Paul The Great wrote in his encyclical Salvifici Doloris (On the Meaning of Suffering) in 1984:

The Redeemer suffered in place of man and for man. Every man has his own share in the Redemption. Each one is also called to share in that suffering through which all human suffering has also been redeemed. In bringing about the Redemption through suffering, Christ has also raised human suffering to the level of the Redemption. Thus each man, in his suffering, can also become a sharer in the redemptive suffering of Christ.

In the Way of the Cross message of 2005, John Paul invokes Paul:

The adoration of the Cross directs us to a commitment that we cannot shirk: the mission that St. Paul expressed in these words: In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church. (Colossians 1:24).

So here we have some of the basis of the Church’s doctrine of “Redemptive Suffering.” It is not a waste to suffer. God sees and sympathizes with us. All of us suffer to different degrees–spiritually, physically, mentally, etc. But this doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love us. Mother Teresa once said that in suffering, Jesus is bringing you close enough to Him so that He can embrace you, He can kiss you. Suffering brings you closer to God.

Sure, there are ways we’d like to get closer without actually suffering. I don’t know anyone who wakes up and says, “Yes! Today’s another chance to suffer! Woohoo!” But God does not abandon us. Even when we think he has–as Jesus did, on the cross, “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?”–he has not. Through His Passion and Death, Jesus has been through everything a human being can endure. He knows what we are feeling.

Our suffering can bring others to him. When I was in the ICU in 2001, friends that hadn’t been to church in years went and prayed. The same thing happened during my transplant. I’m not aware of any Great Conversions from these experiences, but my circumstances brought other people before God, and made them aware of Him and His dominion over us. My talking and normal activities hadn’t done that–it took something very, very dramatic to get these kids into a church. Maybe they haven’t been since; I don’t know. But I know they were there at least once, asking God for a favor. Sometimes the “God as ATM” theory is the first way you get people to go to church–ask God for something and see what happens.

God’s work can be made manifest through you–but you have to consent to it.

Journeys of a CPG has been nominated for the Catholic Blog Awards!!!!

Voting starts on Monday….so you know what to do.

Thanks to those who nominated me. It really does mean a lot that someone finds these writings helpful.

I’ve said a few times on here that Catholicism can be hard. It’s sheer definitiveness can make it that way. But then again, the Cross wasn’t easy, either.

In my life there have a been a few big issues that contrasted what I want with what God wants. The first was birth control.

I want kids–those of you that read regularly know that is NO shock. But with CF, and now transplant, getting pregnant is one of those super-touchy-feely things. You can’t just “get” pregnant. You have to plan it like you’re planning the Omaha Beach invasion. Nurses ask me, pretty matter of course, whether or not I use birth control. It’s sort of a moot point ,regardless, since I don’t have a boyfriend now, but when I was engaged this was a doozy.

Obviously I was not going to use birth control. Fiance OK with this–for awhile. Then we began to fight about it. He didn’t want me to die for a baby. I said I didn’t want to be engaging in sinful behavior. I asked multiple priests whether or not a woman in my condition could use birth control. They said yes. I read the Catechism. It wasn’t quite so malleable (it’s late, but I’ll have the cite later for y’all). And I was torn.

I remember a discussion I had with my best friend about this. I said it really came down to how much I trusted God, didn’t it? Because God doesn’t give us more than I can handle (I did, and still do, believe this). She agreed that it was important to do what God wanted (for the record, she’s Lutheran, so this wasn’t like a fellow Catholic was shooting me the party line.). I prayed. I really agonized over this. And, in the end, it was one of the points that caused our relationship to end.

This has always been a problem with whomever I’ve dated. I don’t normally date casually–life’s too short, you know? So I figure I better stay on God’s good side. But this was an agonizing decision. I didn’t want to give up love. But I didn’t want to go against my faith, which has been my only constant.

The second issue is end of life stuff. Before my transplant, I wrote dozens of letters to people, and planned my funeral. Even if I did get the call, there was no guarantee of surviving major surgery. So I wrote it all down. I chose the “Suffering Servant” passage from Isaiah, the gospel where Jesus raised Lazarus. I chose hymns. And I told my parents that, if I was unable to make decisions for myself, I asked them to do what the Church required. Of course, the excellent Children’s Chaplain (the irreplaceable Fr. Mark) would be able to help them, since he was ministering there at the time. What the Church said, we would do.

Thinking about your own death when you’re 22 is not fun, let me tell you. But I’m glad I did it. It helped me solidify what is really important. Believe me, when I say that Catholicism can be hard, that Christianity can be hard, I know. I’ve struggled with the doctrine too. And for me, I’ve found that submitting to it is the way I find peace.