Catholic

Passion of the Christ

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Photo by jerry South

Growing up away from the Church I spent most of my life happily ignorant of the trials Christ faced in His life. I certainly heard the bible stories and had a basic knowledge of the crucifixion and resurrection but even after coming to the faith, these stories always felt quite far removed from my own life and experiences. I understood the teachings of the Church but lacked context for them. 

After meeting my husband I had the opportunity to join him and his family in some of their holy week traditions. One in particular remains etched in my memory. Two years ago I watched Passion of the Christ for the first time with my husband and his parents. I’ve never been one to get emotional for a movie, even particularly gut wrenching scenes and I was fairly certain that this film would be similar despite my mother in law kindly equipping me with my own box of tissues just in case. I could not have been more wrong. The tissues were indeed a movie watching necessity in this case. 

Although Passion of the Christ is an engaging and well produced film that wasn’t what caught my attention. For me it was my first true glimpse into Christs’ death on the cross and the horrors which preceded it. I was shocked at the gore and cruelty shown throughout the movie as I suspect was the intent of the film makers. The long, painful, bloody path which brought Christ to death on the cross is shocking. We should be repulsed by what was done to Him and by the savage nature in which it was done. It should stir feelings of utmost gratitude to the one who endured all that, every kind of human torment, so that we could be saved. 

It’s easy to hang our heads in memory of this sacrifice when we go to mass and then move on with the rest of our day. It’s easy to consider the story of the crucifixion without meditating on the all consuming agony each and every step must have cost Him. This is pain the likes of which most of us will never know and, truth be told, sometimes we don’t want to think about it. We’re all generally good people after all, just doing the best we can. How could we possibly have done anything so egregious as to incur such a debt for our souls? But that’s just it.

We’re only human, flawed and fallen. Each and every sin, no matter how small, takes us away from the Father. We hurt and betray Him every day in seemingly insignificant ways but He loves us anyway. He is ever seeking to draw us closer to Him because He loves us unconditionally, regardless of our faults on earth. We are truly blessed to never need to wonder how much our Father loves us. The answer is found in every depiction of Christ crucified. Today, on Good Friday, that is what we ought to remember. We can be humbled to know that we are so adored by God who suffered His only begotten Son to die brutally on the cross for us.

A Busy Lent

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I confess that I have been deeply unmotivated to write anything for this blog lately. Our schedule has been booked solid since the beginning of February and shows no signs of easing up until mid April. This year we have taken on a myriad of new responsibilities at church. We continued our usual tradition of orchestrating the weekly Lenten soup dinners and Vespers services at our home parish. We also very recently took on the positions of the marriage prep coordinators for our church. I’ve continued my habit of playing my flute with a small ensemble group at mass as accompaniment to the hymns once a month. Additionally, my husband was just initiated into the Knights of Columbus as a third degree Knight and joined a casual hockey league with work friends this year. I’m proud to say his team won the championship game! 

Amid all of the meetings, dinners, retreats, rehearsals, practices and two full time jobs, we are also rearranging our home to welcome family member number three. Our friends and family blessed us with a beautiful and incredibly generous baby shower. Even my extended family from Colorado flew out for the celebration. Our little house is now stacked high with boxes of every shape and size containing anything a baby might need. My husband has been spending his days off assembling nursery furniture and there’s still so much to unpack.

All this is to say that the hubby and I are wonderfully blessed but also very tired. My usual 5:30 am writing hour a few times a week before work always gets a bit squished or forgotten these days. Waking up so early has definitely become more challenging with pregnancy. Though I’m still a morning person, the process of becoming a functional human being every day seems to just take a little longer than it used to. 

Though this Lent has certainly been a time of increased fasting, almsgiving and prayer for us, there have been days when I think we both lost the thread of the season simply due to our ambitious schedule. My mom mentioned over the phone the other day that this has been a hard Lent and I have to agree. This wasn’t precisely the Lent either of us had envisioned when my husband and I were discussing our plans for the season. 

However, I do think it was one of spiritual growth for us both.By virtue of the miraculous blessing of the baby girl in my belly and our new efforts in our parish marriage prep ministry, we were able to draw into a much deeper understanding of the sacramental bond between man, wife and God. We had countless discussions this year pertaining to the raising of our little girl and how we might set her on a holy path. I also found immense peace and joy in our Lenten Vespers services and was totally humbled by the charity of others at times as I was blessed with an army of dutiful church ladies to help supply food for the simple soup dinners. It has been a busy Lent and, often an exhausting one, but I feel blessed to have experienced it all. 

Mirth is Biblical

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Photo by Aleksandr Balandin

I think there is a common misconception today among Catholics and atheists alike that to be considered holy one must completely forsake sweets, alcohol, silly movies and in general, all things remotely humorous or pleasurable. This is simply not how God calls us to live. We are not to eat or drink to excess. We are not to dress or behave immodestly and we are not to tempt ourselves or others to sin by consuming lude or sacrilegious content. We Catholics believe in moderation, that most things can be beneficial in the proper doses. Contrary to popular belief, we are not a humorless bunch of prudish killjoys.

Cracking open a beer after a long day or relishing a whiskey on the rocks with friends is hardly verboten. Likewise, there is no ban on an after dinner slice of chocolate cake every once in a while. Breaking the ice in an intense game of cards with a few well timed, good natured jokes isn’t forbidden. On the contrary, mirth is entirely biblical. We are called to approach all of these things with kindness and joy and thanksgiving to God. Obviously, we Catholics are dedicated to avoiding the worship of false gods including addiction. It is only when these earthly pleasures become occasions of sin or temptation to sin that we must excuse ourselves from the fun.  

Of course, during this season of Lent we are also called to heighten our efforts regarding fasting, almsgiving and prayer. This means that many of us are at least periodically or temporarily forgoing sweets or alcohol or a number of other enjoyable treats and habits in order to make room in our lives for increased faith and reflection. These are all ways in which we can maintain properly ordered lives which are centered around Christ. They are intended to bring us into a deeper relationship with God and haven’t been laid down by the Church simply to make us miserable for 40 days.

Although everyone on the planet has experienced suffering and hardship in some capacity and certainly will again, God did not create us for lives of pure drudgery. Every single human on earth has a cross to bear. How we choose to take them up is a reflection of our faith. When left to our own devices it’s easy for anyone to get bogged down by feelings of fear, exhaustion, or even rage at all the problems life likes to throw our way. We Catholics are not immune to these feelings but we also look to Christ as an example on those bad days and strive toward eternal salvation through every hurdle. Of course, we fall short just like everyone else but in the end we seek to continue to take up these crosses willingly and even with jubilation as we give these struggles up to God because we trust in Him.  

Indeed, a Catholic life is one of constant service and sacrifice but also one of joy and mirth and love in equal measure. I pray for all those who have yet to experience the unparalleled bliss of submitting to God’s will.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

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Everyone on the planet can relate to this struggle, the overwhelming pressure of being caught in an impossible situation by no fault of your own and with no good options in sight. It can feel as if the whole world rests on your shoulders alone, as if the universe is imploding with you at the center of the chaos. Being stuck between a rock and a hard place is a monumental burden for anyone to bear. Blessedly, my days there have been few and far between. I haven’t often found myself resigned to these impossible situations but throughout my life I’ve known a number of people who have.

My parents were the first example. Throughout our childhood my sister and I were well provided for though this wasn’t always a simple task for my parents. I know there were days when my parents felt the weight of keeping the lights on and food on the table every night, especially after the 2008 recession. My sister and I were shielded from the brunt of these troubles but we were aware of them. Christmas and birthday gifts always seemed extra special with the understanding that they didn’t necessarily come easily and from a very young age we learned the value of gratitude. We loved our parents for all of this and made a habit of saying “thank you”often in our house. 

Today, the same stress rings in my sister’s voice over the phone. She is several years deep in the marathon called medical school while also discovering how to be a mother for the very first time. Her entire life she’s dreamed of helping people through medicine and, for her, it truly is a calling from God. Unfortunately, it’s a dream which demands enormous expenses. My sister truly cannot afford to flunk out of medical school. She is under immense pressure to pass difficult exams and gain hands-on experience all while constantly terrified of neglecting the duties of motherhood. Of course, everyone who knows her is fully confident in her ability to excel in both areas of her life and she’s been blessed with a kind and supportive husband to help her through this struggle.

I have never had to do anything half as demanding as this and so far I’ve even managed to avoid the money stresses which weighed on my parents’ shoulders when we were little. I know that difficulties will arise as we go through life but my burdens have been relatively light and short lived thus far. Sometimes I catch myself wishing there were words of encouragement I could give my sister but what could I possibly say from this blessed and easy life of mine? When nearing the treacherous peak of Everest there’s little want for words of wisdom from those who chose to stay at base camp. 

It’s so tempting to try to fix the problem when we see the ones we love struggling. We want to lighten the load with comfort and aid and it’s hard not to feel a tiny bit hurt when both are rejected. There are some things that aren’t for us to fix. Sometimes all we can do is watch and pray and cheer on our loved ones from the sidelines. I’m still learning this lesson. For me, the greatest challenge of being stuck between a rock and a hard place is not that I’ve been there myself, but that I can only watch when I see my family there. I pray for all those in impossible situations and also for all those called to witness that struggle. 

Motherhood: A Blessing, Not a Curse

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Photo by Nelly Aran

When speaking of motherhood I think many women are quick to share their tale of terrible woe, of sleepless nights and constant worries and the difficulties of keeping baby fed and diapers changed. The laborious process of carrying and birthing the child is often another source of juicy hardship to share. While these are all perfectly valid experiences and ones I will undoubtedly encounter myself, I think the joys of motherhood can get lost in the excitement. I feel incredibly blessed to find myself pregnant for the very first time surrounded by mothers who are overjoyed to help celebrate this amazing and miraculous gift of God’s creation.

My baby is not a hindrance to the peace and joy to be found in our home but rather an immense source of it. During phone calls with my family, everyone wants to know how I’m feeling and if I’ve felt baby kick yet. I’m happy to report that yes, our baby girl is already asserting her presence in our lives by frequently stretching her tiny legs. 

During this beautiful season of life our world has taken on a kaleidoscope of new colors and shades. My days of calm, stoic movie watching are coming to a watery end. My husband showed me Radio and The Guardian for the first time recently, both enthralling stories which I highly recommend and each had me weeping in turn. We’ve also learned to work around the new and improved space cadet mommy brain which led me to forget my entire purse at a friend’s house and has frequently been the cause of missing necessities from the grocery list. Blessedly my husband is the understanding and forgiving type. Even so, it’s impossible for him to stay annoyed for too long as my hiccups inexplicably became 15 times cuter with pregnancy.

Amid all of these inner changes we are also working to prepare our home for baby. The first critical step was a closet reset in which I switched out my usual outfits to make room for some necessary stretch wear. I firmly believe that fashion doesn’t have to go out the window when women become mothers, while pregnant or otherwise. However, there comes a point when the old jeans simply won’t button. I excitedly told the hubby the day this happened to me. We’re also in full baby prep mode, making the gift registry, planning the shower and rearranging our guest rooms to accommodate a nursery. 

All the while, I’m constantly grabbing my husband’s hand every time I feel a kick, trying to get daddy in on the full experience. Every single day we are both falling more in love with this tiny human which, by God’s grace, we were able to create together. Praise God!

Heaven Can’t Be Bought

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I think most Catholics would agree that filling up the parish collection basket or donating expensive likenesses of the saints count for very little unless they are accompanied by regular and genuine prayer and acts of service for our neighbors. There is no currency for heaven. However, this concept can be easily blurred when we speak of indulgences. Many devout Catholics talk about accumulating these indulgences just as one might acquire earthly wealth. This can lead new or potential believers to mistakenly conclude that perhaps heaven does have currency after all.

Partial or plenary indulgences are afforded us by our church leaders through our recitation of specific prayers or acts of service. These remove either part or all of the punishment, on earth or in purgatory, for our sins due to the spiritual fruits we accumulate through holy living. These can be given during times of crisis, such as COVID lockdowns, or for particular holy devotions and they can be applied to ourselves or the souls of the deceased. They are NOT brownie points for getting into God’s good graces. There is no elevator or express lane to enter into heaven. Indulgences can only be obtained by those in a state of grace who approach them with sincerity. Simply going through the motions is not enough. 

As Catholics we believe our prayers and good works have a real effect in the world or for the souls of the dead, whether we see it for ourselves or not. We do not pray aimlessly or hopelessly but believe these efforts can and will be used for some good purpose. The reward of additional graces for ourselves or those in purgatory may entice busy people to participate in extra prayers and service they wouldn’t otherwise have time for but with the understanding that there’s no Bank of Grace, there’s no harm in this. There’s nothing scandalous about encouraging Catholics to fully and genuinely partake in holy living, especially in times of turmoil when some may be unable to receive the sacraments regularly.

Christmas Miracles

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This year was far from the Christmas that my husband and I had hoped for. I caught a nasty cold 3 days before the season was to begin and spent the majority of the holiday vacation coughing, sniffling and unable to sleep through the nights. We were also forced to plan around a bit of an odd work schedule as my husband was still on night shift at the time and working through Christmas Eve. Our combined schedule made it impossible to get back to Colorado to celebrate with my family in the mountains this year and the hubby was sleeping during the day. Thus I spent most of a rainy, dreary, snowless Christmas Eve alone. For all of these reasons the usual magic of Christmas was nowhere to be found and I wasted half the day mourning its absence. What a perfectly uncatholic way to welcome the coming of Christ. 

However, though my beloved Christmas magic was far away, all this unpleasantness was ultimately transformed into my very own Christmas miracle all thanks to a phone call with one of the best Catholics I know, my mom. I’ve told her this many times before but after the events of this Christmas Eve, it bears repeating. The world needs more moms. She listened to my holiday woes with Mary-like patience and then imparted the following (perhaps divinely inspired) advice. 

  1. Bake something – Even in spite of feeling a bit under the weather, I was still perfectly able to buzz around my house a bit that day and make some kind of preparation for the coming of Christ. She sent me a breakfast casserole recipe which became our Christmas morning meal. 
  2. Listen to Handel’s Messiah – Growing up, a local group would always spend a weekend traveling to several churches in the valley to perform George Frederic Handel’s famous oratorio and this provided a small taste of childhood. It’s also an incredibly reverent work entirely dedicated to the beauty and joy of the Christmas season. There’s some speculation that it was even divinely inspired as Handel completed the work in a short 2 weeks. 
  3. Read the Gospel nativity passages – What better way to remember Christ’s humble beginnings than to return to the Gospel stories. It’s interesting to see the same language echoed across multiple Gospels, many of which make use of words like “behold” traditionally meant to announce royalty. Christ was not just a baby who became a prophet. He is our King. 
  4. Light the Advent candles – Due to drastically different work schedules we didn’t have many opportunities this year to sit in prayer over our lit Advent wreath. However, Christmas Eve, the last day of the season, was a perfect time to remedy this situation. They remained lit as I read the Gospel recounts of the nativity. 

All this my mom offered as means to LIVE LITURGICALLY! In spite of minor, or even major hardship, in our lives we are called to embrace the spirit of the season especially during one of the holiest seasons on the liturgical calendar. Though it did take some motherly nudging, I found immense peace and joy this Christmas Eve as I went about these activities, embracing an attitude of service, gratitude and quiet reflection. It was yet another Christmas in which things did not go according to plan but one in which I truly and happily drew closer to Christ.

Wrapped in Mary’s Grace: The Brown Scapular

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My husband and I recently hosted one of our priest friends for dinner which turned out to be an evening of abundant blessings. The three of us chatted over a delicious meal of my husband’s trademark BBQ ribs, rosemary potatoes and corn on the cob. The conversation spanned work, life and of course all things Catholic. Though still not very far along at the time, we were excited to share our news of my recent pregnancy and the Father was happy to celebrate with us.

At one point the conversation also turned to my desire to be enrolled in the brown scapular and without missing a beat, the priest offered to complete the ritual that very evening. As Catholics we do not subscribe to superstitions. The brown scapular is not a lucky charm but a sacramental. It serves as a reminder to us of our love and commitment to God and, through adherence to a particular prayer routine laid out for those called to wear it, we believe we can receive special graces. I think I encountered those graces later that night. After the dessert plates had been cleared away the priest did as promised and enrolled me in the brown scapular, praying over me and blessing the scapular with holy water before I donned it for the very first time.

Later I struggled to fall asleep due to the nausea of first trimester morning sickness and a mind whirling with worries over how best to nurture the baby now growing inside me. It’s funny how easy the fears of first time parenthood come. As I lay in bed, uncomfortable and wide awake watching the hours tick by, I touched the scapular now resting flat against my chest. I thought of the man laying beside me, my living, breathing, miraculous proof of God’s love for us. I thought of our wedding day, the most perfect and blessed day in my memory, not because the guests raved about the food, venue or music choices, but because that was the day that my husband and I were joined to each other and to God in holy and sacramental matrimony. I also thought of the baby we had been praying for for months, now a reality and the source of my newfound discomfort and worry.

What a beautiful life! How blessed I am to suffer these things! No matter how my life and goals shifted throughout the years, motherhood was always at the forefront. Though there are still many months to navigate before we meet our child, God in His infinite love and mercy has blessed me with the fulfillment of my life’s deepest and truest calling. I am a mother. Thank you Lord, for filling the life of this sinner with good things.

Christmas Traditions

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Merry Christmas everyone! Whether you’re spending it cozied up with family in front of your favorite version of A Christmas Carol or reminiscing about past Christmases over dinner and eggnog, I pray everyone can celebrate the nativity of Christ surrounded by friends and family and good cheer. Here are some beloved Christmas traditions which my family loves to share every year.

Christmas Tree Hunting – In our house we never had a fake tree. While we all lived in Colorado we would gleefully bundle up, strap on our snowshoes and head out into the chilly mountain winter air in search of the perfect tree. Some years, the tree had a bit of a Charlie Brown quality to it, whether it be a doubled top or an odd bald spot at the back. Sometimes the tree was slightly too skinny or too fat or slightly bent halfway up but these quirks only made us love it more. We could never return home with the tree until we’d engaged in the annual snowball fights and sledding runs and generally wore ourselves out playing in the snow. Once home, we would crowd in the living room in our socks and slippers to decorate the tree while munching on homemade Christmas cookies.

German Christmas Cookies – During our childhood, every year around Thanksgiving we would cram ourselves into my Oma’s tiny kitchen along with all of our aunts, uncles and cousins, to help bake Oma’s legendary Christmas cookies. She always had a sixth sense for when the cookies were done. No timers in her house. Everyone would run for cover if ever someone distracted Oma and the cookies came out burnt. However, these catastrophes were rare and far between and in general, everyone was sent home with huge tins overflowing with our favorite Christmas delights.

The Christmas Puzzle – This is a bit more of an Advent tradition in our family as a partially finished jigsaw depiction of the last supper or the nativity is generally sprawled across our coffee table for the majority of the season. We always work to complete the picture by Christmas which on occasion resulted in my sister and I happily chatting until 2 in the morning to place the last pieces. 

The Feast – While many people are fond of their Christmas turkey, the feast of the nativity has often spanned several days in our house. We loved embracing our Italian and German heritage respectively and there would usually be an evening for each. My sister and I always loved helping to make the annual homemade pasta. One year we even did homemade pretzels to pair with our favorite German beer for an appetizer. On Christmas morning my mom would always have cinnamon rolls and a delicious breakfast casserole hot and ready. 

Go To Church – Even before we were Catholic we would don our Christmas finery to attend church with our extended family. At the time, we mostly went for the music as we were always sure to catch our favorite carols on Christmas Eve. However, having all now made our way to the Church, Christmas Eve and Christmas morning masses are something that I wouldn’t dream of missing. We still get the traditional hymns which are lovely to hear but the mass is so much more than that. Celebrating Christ’s sacrifice on the cross on the eve of His nativity is a profoundly moving experience for me, particularly when the sanctuary is overflowing with fellow parishioners. Some might grumble at the difficulty of finding parking at this particular mass but I love to see all of our fellow church goers, dressed to impress and there to reverence Christ. 

Mustard Seeds

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Photo by Akil Mazumder

For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you. – Matthew 17:20-21

When asked why I converted to Catholicism it’s difficult to pinpoint an exact moment when my understanding blossomed into true belief. I’ve often said that there wasn’t a single instant which led me to the faith but many moments, both big and small, over the course of many years. Upon reflection, I think the first seeds of Catholic understanding in my life were all planted by my two wonderful parents, though we may have all been unaware at the time. 

My very first exposure to Catholic teachings and literature did not come from the Bible. I first heard and fell in love with these teachings through the eloquent writings of JRR Tolkien in his tales of Middle Earth. Bedtime stories were always a must in our house growing up and Tolkien’s were our favorite. Even before any of us were Catholic and well before I myself could read, my dad spent countless evening hours sitting between my sister and I with The Lord of the Rings open in his lap, causing the letters to come alive with his various character voices as my mom sat close by knitting in her comfy armchair. To this day, my sister and I still eat up these stories, epic recounts of the eternal struggle between good and evil and all the rays of light that can still be found in a world falling into darkness. Tolkien’s work is bursting with Catholic messages and imagery.  

My mom also planted slightly more literal Catholic seeds later when I grew up and moved away to Indiana. She gifted me with a small metal crucifix and a tiny car rosary. I was not Catholic at the time and had no intention of coming to the faith but my mom was not deterred. These she hung in my life with care and without my permission, the crucifix rather prominently displayed in the middle of my apartment living room and the rosary dangling from the rearview mirror in my car. Long after she returned to Colorado and left me to my new life in the Midwest, my crucifix and rosary still hung where she’d left them. In part, I was grateful for the prayers which came with them even if I myself didn’t subscribe to the faith they represented. They were little reminders of my mom’s love for me. I also knew that she’d look for them whenever she visited and never had the heart to explain why I’d moved them so they were left as they were, Christ on the cross watching over me wherever I went.  

I would later find myself defending Catholicism during good natured religious debates over lunch with work friends. At the time I knew close to nothing about the faith except what my parents had told me since their return to the Church. I always felt compelled to correct the more blatant anti Catholic arguments on behalf of the two intelligent and loving people who raised me. Now I understand why. Looking back, all of these seemingly insignificant moments were indeed guiding me to the faith, one slow inch at a time.