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O Wisdom

From December 17-23, Christians are in a time of eager anticipation. The intentional expectancy becomes intense as we enter the octave before the birth of our Lord. We throw aside the normal prayers for particular prayers that show our hope, our trust, our longing for the Christ child. Each evening, the antiphon preceding the Magnificat in Evening Prayer proclaims one of the ancient titles of the Messiah, giving us the text of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” and excellent fodder for meditation. This week I’ll be sharing a meditation on each day’s antiphon to help us all enter more deeply into this last week of Advent.

O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation.

The God who is coming into our midst is the God of all creation, the wisdom of the Father by whom and through whom and for whom all things were made. And yet, with all his power, he chooses weakness for love of us. The God who could announce his presence with thunder and trumpets and booming words from heaven speaks instead in shepherds’ voices. This God who could force us to love him invites instead. He speaks tenderly to our hearts, beckoning, begging, but never compelling.

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This is wisdom: the God of power and might becomes an infant. Because he couldn’t forbid suffering without impairing our freedom, he chose to suffer with us. St. Augustine reminds us, “God had one son on earth without sin but never one without suffering.” Too strong to be defeated by death, he was yet tender enough to die. Too strong to abandon us in our sin, he was yet tender enough to allow us to reject him. God in his wisdom is everything we need–just enough and never too much. He woos us as far as we will come and then mourns as we choose ourselves over him. In his wisdom he leaves us free, though we might prefer to be enslaved but happy rather than free in the misery of sin.

And when he shows us the way to salvation, he doesn’t call from afar or point the way through peril and misery. He walks with us, shoring us up by his strength and tenderly wiping away our weary tears. He asks of us nothing that he hasn’t himself done or suffered or been subjected to. When we are hurt, we find his pierced hands lifting us up. When we are rejected, his pierced brow speaks of his betrayal. When we are lonely, we hear the echo of “My God, my God.”

This is the wisdom of the incarnation: the foolishness of the Cross. This is what we long for in Advent: not merely the coming of the Christ child in the liturgy but the coming into our hearts of him who breaks down the walls we’ve built and gently smooths our rough edges.

What tender strength. What wisdom. Come, Lord Jesus.

O, come, O Wisdom from on high,
Who orders all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
and teach us in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Advent Boot Camp 2018

I put out an Advent Boot Camp four years ago and the response was great, so it’s become an annual thing. Just a little tweaking since Christmas isn’t always the same day of the week. Read the intro here or just dive right in and prepare for the Spirit to pump you up.1

This “Advent Boot Camp” is a guideline, not a foolproof plan. Feel free to substitute anything. What’s essential is that you’re spending time in silent prayer–not just prayer but silent prayer–and that you’re easing into it.

Each day’s prayer starts with a 5 minute warmup. It’s hard just to snap from all the noise of the world into prayer, so take some time to slow down, talk to the Lord about what’s weighing on you, and get quiet. Then see what God has to say to you through his Word, his Saints, and the prayers of his Church. Finally, spend some good time in silence, either processing what you’ve read, talking to God, or trying to be still in his presence. If your prayer life has consisted solely of grace before meals and Mass on Sunday, this might be tough. But it will get easier. And what better time to seek silence than in the mad bustle leading up to Christmas?

Advent boot campWeek 1: Begin each day with 5 minutes of prayer, make one chapel visit

  • Day 1: 5 minute warmup; Isaiah 40; 5 minutes silence
  • Day 2: 5 minute warmup; Isaiah 9:1-6; one decade of the rosary, 5 minutes silence
  • Day 3: 5 minute warmup; Luke 1:26-38; 10 minutes silence
  • Day 4: 5 minute warmup; Catechism 522-526; one decade of the rosary; 5 minutes silence
  • Day 5: 15 minutes of prayer: your choice
  • Day 6: 5 minute warmup; “In the Bleak Midwinter”; 1 John 4; 5 minutes silence
  • Day 7: 5 minute warmup; the Office of Readings2; 10 minutes silence

Week 2: Begin and end each day with 5 minutes of prayer, attend one extra Mass

  • Day 8: 5 minute warmup; Isaiah 11; two decades of the rosary; 5 minutes silence
  • Day 9: 5 minute warmup; Luke 2:1-21; one decade of the rosary; 10 minutes silence
  • Day 10: 20 minutes of prayer: your choice
  • Day 11:5 minute warmup; reading from St. Bernard of Clairvaux; 10 minutes silence
  • Day 12: 5 minute warmup; 15 minutes journaling on why you need the incarnation; 5 minutes silence
  • Day 13: 5 minute warmup; Stations of the Cross
  • Day 14: 5 minute warmup; make a good examination of conscience, asking God to cast light into all the areas of sin in your life and to make you truly repentant and grateful for his love and mercy; go to confession; 15 minutes silence

Week 3: Begin and end each day with 5 minutes of prayer, attend two extra Masses

  • Day 15: 5 minute warmup; John 1:1-18; reading from St. Gregory Nazianzen; 10 minutes silence
  • Day 16: 25 minutes of prayer: your choice
  • Day 17: 5 minute warmup; “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”; 15 minutes silence
  • Day 18: 5 minute warmup; Isaiah 61-62; 15 minutes silence
  • Day 19: 5 minute warmup; full rosary (joyful mysteries); 5 minutes silence
  • Day 20: 5 minute warmup; memorize Isaiah 9:5 (“A child is born to us…”); 10 minutes silence
  • Day 21: 5 minute warmup; Isaiah 35; reading from St. Augustine; 20 minutes silence

Week 4: Begin and end each day with 5 minutes of prayer

I’ve compiled the non-Biblical readings here if you want to print them in advance: Advent Boot Camp readings

This is going to max you out at 30-35 minutes of prayer at one time. If you feel like you can do more than that, go for it. If you’re a beginner when it comes to non-liturgical prayer, though, this might be a good way to get started. Whether you’re interested in this approach or not, do spend some time praying about how you’re going to try to grow closer to the Lord this Advent. But don’t stress about it–it’s supposed to be a time of preparation and peace, not frantic anxiety, despite what the mall might do to you this time of year. You might consider starting to read the Bible through in a year using this schedule. Or read Caryll Houselander’s The Reed of God. Just be sure you do something more than bake and shop to prepare for Christmas this year. The Christ Child is coming, after all. Offer him your heart.

  1. Ten points if you read that in your Hans and Franz voice. [↩]
  2. Click “Office of Readings” on the left side of the page [↩]

Our Lady of Victims and Survivors

I never understood that line you hear so often from Catholics trying to defend their relationship with Mary, that matter-of-fact way they would say, “You go to Mary when you can’t go to Jesus.”

Why on earth could you not go to Jesus? I wondered, baffled by a theology that seemed to make Mary the gatekeeper to Jesus, himself the one mediator between God and man. Surely there was something wrong with a faith that made God-made-man seem inaccessible, something wrong with a Christian who viewed Jesus as someone too far away to approach. I never understood.

I understand it now.

I understand that a man who has been raped by a priest might not be able to seek intimacy with Jesus, the Great High Priest. I understand that thousands of children have grown into adults who are desperately grasping at the faith of their youth but cringe when they hear the word, “Father.” I understand that they might not be able to approach the throne of the Father, to climb up into his lap and be anything other than terrified there.

So Jesus gave us his mother. For such a time as this and for every other need in every other era, he gave us his mother. Because he knew, as he hung on the Cross pouring out his blood for our salvation, that men who bore his name would terrorize the flock for which he laid down his life. He knew that his broken children would be too afraid of them to come to him. He knew about PTSD. He knew that millions of fathers down through the years—spiritual fathers and physical fathers—would be so unworthy of the name that they would build walls between their children and the Father, walls built with mortar mixed of blood and tears.

So he gave us his mother. Not because we would be unworthy to approach him but because so many of us would be afraid and broken. He sent his sorrowing mother, her eyes streaming with tears for the sins of the shepherds, to hold and comfort her children and slowly—slowly—lead them back to him.

He gave us his mother as model and intercessor and mother and queen, to rejoice with us and pray for us and show us how to love. But he also gave her so that when Holy Mother Church seems to be more akin to the wicked stepmother of stories unfit for children, we would have a mother’s arms to return to. Mary, Mother of the Church, sees the Church’s flaws, horrific as some of them are. And as the Church’s mother, Mary rebukes her. As the mother of sinners, she rebukes them. As the mother of priests, she rebukes them.

But she also comforts. She comforts the Church, the sinners, the priests. She comforts survivors. She comforts good priests striving to remain faithful. She comforts the millions who are shaken by the newest wave of revelations about wolves in shepherds’ clothing, whispering tenderly, fiercely, “Your priest betrayed you. Your bishop betrayed you. But your God did not betray you. In all your suffering, he was suffering alongside. He weeps for you as I weep for you. You are not alone. You are loved.”

She speaks now as she did to St. Juan Diego on Tepeyac: “Listen and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little son. Do not be troubled or weighed down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the folds of my mantle? In the crossing of my arms? Is there anything else you need?”

Jesus is your Savior, the Bridegroom who laid down his life for you. He wants nothing more than for you to know him in a personal, intimate way and to spend eternity with him. But he understands that right now you might not be ready for intimacy. You might not be ready for a bridegroom. You might not be ready for a man at all. So he sent his mother.

Mary always leads us back to Jesus. If you’re too angry or wounded to turn to Jesus right now, he understands. He gave you his mother to speak his love for as long as you need until you’re ready to let him back in. If you can’t go to Jesus, go to Mary. She’ll lead you home.

Jacopo di Cione, Mystic Marriage of St Catherine, with St Louis of Toulouse and a female donor

 

A Letter to My Bishop

Friends, I’ve been praying and thinking quite a lot about what I actually want our bishops to do. I thought I’d share my thoughts with you. I’ll be mailing them to my bishop (and, in some form, to several other bishops). Feel free to adapt my words and use them in your own letter-writing, or to find excellent templates at The Siena Project. Your bishop’s address can be found here.

Your Excellency,

 

You know why I’m writing. It’s the same reason everybody’s been writing. Priests abused children and adults, bishops coerced seminarians into unspeakable acts, and everybody seemed to know. And nobody seemed to care.

I don’t know what you knew. Perhaps your conscience is entirely clear. Perhaps you removed every abusive priest from ministry, chastised and reported abusive and negligent bishops, and wrote the Holy Father when you heard rumors. Perhaps you have been an exemplary priest and a saintly bishop. If so, I thank you. With fierce, desperate gratitude, I thank you.

But perhaps not. If you have been a part of this vile infection plaguing our church, even just through looking the other way, I beg you to confess your sins–not only sacramentally but publicly. You may be judged harshly by those you failed to shepherd; you will be judged more harshly by the Shepherd who appointed you if you continue to abandon your flock.

I can’t know which is the case, but I choose to believe you are who you say you are: a lover of God and servant of his people. And I’m sure that you feel lost and confused and exhausted right now. Believe me, I’m praying for you. Your PR department recommends polished statements and your people demand that heads roll, regardless of whether or not the possessors of those heads have been proven guilty. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a bishop right now. And perhaps more demands from your people just add to that weight. But in the hope that you are genuinely seeking to bring healing to this broken Church, I’d like to offer some suggestions of practical things to do right now–this week. Come November, I’ll have more thoughts about what the USCCB as a whole ought to do. But today, I offer these thoughts for your prayerful consideration:

  1. Begin by inviting a full investigation by the state’s attorney general and encourage all other bishops to do the same. Open all the files, whatever they contain. All of this will come out in the next ten years–if we deal with it all at once, the Church in America may survive. If we drag it out, we continue to torment survivors, endanger children, and abdicate any moral authority we still retain. The condemnation of wicked men could never cause such scandal as our secrecy has.
  2. Work to extend statutes of limitations such that justice can be wrought in this world as well as the next.
  3. Meet personally with survivors and their families. Meet on their terms: where they want, when they want, with whom they want. Allow media if they prefer, but do not make this a photo opp.
  4. Host town hall meetings throughout the diocese. Listen. Apologize. Don’t defend.
  5. Publicly ask the Holy Father to invite an investigation of what Vatican officials (including the Holy Father) knew about McCarrick and when. We have had enough of silence. Now is a time for fathers to answer their confused and frightened children, not to stand by impassively as the family self-destructs. I do not want Pope Francis to resign. I want him to lead the way in transparency and (if necessary) repentance.
  6. Establish a policy of surveying seminarians semi-annually about their experience of and concerns about seminary life. Visiting the seminaries you send your men to is essential, though it alone is not enough. Make it clear that those reporting sexual misconduct or the abuse of authority will always be granted a meeting directly with you. Their concerns will not go unheard.
  7. Commit yourself personally to public acts of penance and reparation. Bishop Reed in Boston has taken the lead on this, engaging in an act of prayer and fasting that has stunned the Catholic world. Ask the Lord how you can take a stand, showing survivors and all the wounded faithful that you will fight for us, that you will sacrifice yourself for love of Christ and for love of us.
  8. Call on the clergy of your diocese to return to the practice of Friday abstinence. Encourage them to undertake other acts of penance and reparation on behalf of their fallen brother priests and for the healing of the Church. Remind them that they became priests for the salvation of souls and that no good thing comes without effort. The demons attacking our church will be cast out only through prayer and fasting.
  9. Exhort all priests of the diocese to offer a Mass of Reparation every Friday between now and Christmas. (The Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Cross and the Feast of All Souls are, of course, universal feasts that cannot be replaced by votive Masses, though both are particularly connected to this cause as well. It is, I believe, in your power to remove all obstacles to celebrating a Mass of Reparation for every other Friday between now and Christmas.)
  10. Ask every parish to recite the St. Michael prayer following each Mass (before the closing hymn on Sundays) for the purification of the Church and her protection from all evil influences.
  11. Continue preaching on this and asking your clergy to do the same. Not every homily needs to be an apology on behalf of the clergy, but too many Catholics have heard nothing at all and feel abandoned. Just mention that this is a hard time in the Church, that you’re sorry for those who have suffered, and that Jesus loves us in our pain–we just need to know that you aren’t pretending that this is business as usual.
  12. Finally, Your Excellency, if there is anything at all in your past that, if exposed, would force you to resign, skip the drama. Resign now. Tell us everything and retire to a life of penance. Owning up to your sins, begging forgiveness, and doing public penance may just get you canonized one day. Diverting blame and keeping your head down may earn you a place in hell. Catholics are in the habit of forgiving repentant sinners. This isn’t a hard choice.

You will, I hope, forgive my forwardness. But my Church is under attack and you, Excellency, have been clothed in armor and given a sword to defend her. I may pray and fast (and I do), I may call for reform, I may stand before thousands and point them back to Christ in the midst of this chaos they long to run from, but only you can be our shepherd.

Thank you for the gift of your priesthood and for the courage and wisdom with which you lead our local Church. I pledge to pray for you daily by name as you seek to be faithful in carrying out the work of the Spirit.

Yours in Christ through Mary,

Meg Hunter-Kilmer

Please Don’t Leave Jesus: A Homily for this Sunday

Dear Fathers,

Some of you have already preached on the current crisis in the Church. Thank you for that. This Sunday at least, please speak about it again. The readings are tailor-made for it.

Some of you haven’t, because you don’t know what to say or because you don’t want to offend anybody or because you’ve been waiting from some direction from a bishop who is more CEO than shepherd. I offer you this piece as a gift in thanksgiving for your priesthood. Recite the whole thing verbatim, steal sections, or just let it inspire your own writing. No attribution needed. But please, please don’t let your sons and daughters reeling in the face of betrayal by their Church sit through one more homily filled with irrelevant platitudes. We understand that you’re suffering, too, but you are a father. Your children need you to console us and to promise to protect us. Please.

The readings for this Sunday can be found here, or you can open your Bible and read them at: Joshua 24:1-2A, 15-17, 18B; Psalm 34:2-3, 16-21; Ephesians 5:21-32; John 6:60-69.

I’ve got to say, I don’t know if I could have done it—stood up with the other Israelites and promised to serve the Lord. This excerpt from Joshua makes it sound so easy: “Far be it from us to forsake the Lord for the service of other gods.” But following the Lord had never been easy for them. They had wandered through the desert, the older ones, for forty years. They had fought their way through the Promised Land. Their leaders had rebelled again and again and they had reaped the consequences.

They hadn’t been there when God worked wonders in Egypt. They hadn’t seen the Red Sea part. Oh, the older ones had eaten miraculous bread from heaven and walked through the Jordan dry-shod, but most of the Israelites still living had never seen anything miraculous. They’d heard stories; that was it.

But somehow, when given the choice, they chose God.

Maybe they were in the same boat as Peter in our Gospel today. Peter had just heard Jesus say some pretty outlandish stuff—going on and on about eating his flesh and drinking his blood. The crowds had looked at him like he was insane, talking about cannibalism like this, and he had just doubled down. He hadn’t stopped to explain the real presence in the Blessed Sacrament or pulled out Aristotle to define transubstantiation. He certainly hadn’t interrupted himself to assure them that he only wanted them to eat bread and think about him. He just said it again and again, nine times: eat my flesh and drink my blood.

So they walked away. Because this guy was nuts! How could he possibly give them his flesh to eat? Why on earth would he advocate cannibalism??

And Jesus just let them go. Because they were free to choose. But he turned to his disciples and asked them wearily, “Are you leaving, too?”

Peter always had the right answer—at least, so he thought. But this time he didn’t respond with some assurance that he totally got what Jesus was going for, that he was all about the Eucharist. He was confused and a bit disturbed. He didn’t understand it at all. But he knew Jesus. And he knew that he was nothing apart from Jesus. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew Jesus and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Some of you may be feeling confused and weary the way Peter and the Israelites did. You’ve defended the Church, made sacrifices for her, proclaimed your faith at great cost, and found yourself betrayed by men who claimed the name of Jesus but were working at the command of the Enemy. Wouldn’t it be easier just to leave?

Dear ones, I am so sorry. My heart breaks with yours for the victims of these depraved men.

And I understand.

I understand if it was hard for you to come here today. I understand if you’re wondering how you could possibly remain in a Church that has so horrifically failed its most vulnerable members. I understand the fear and suspicion and anger.

So does Jesus.

He understands how hollow the Psalm may have felt to you today, proclaiming that God is close to the brokenhearted when every one of us knows that thousands of hearts were broken by men claiming God’s name. He understands that you heard it proclaimed that he confronts evildoers and wanted to cry out in pain that he doesn’t seem to be doing it now.

I’m with you. We need accountability. We need transparency. There are people who need jail time. But in all the mess and rot in this Church, God is still God. He is still good. He is the same God who sent his Son to die for you, the same God who poured out his life on the Cross, the same God who comes down to us in the Blessed Sacrament. He is close to the brokenhearted, and he does confront evildoers, whether we realize it or not. He loves you fiercely, deeply, unceasingly.

Do you want to know why I don’t leave? Because of the Eucharist. I stand with Simon Peter, confused and disturbed amid all this turmoil, and I say to the Lord, “But where else would I go? You’re here. And I want you.”

My brothers and my sisters, I am begging you: please don’t leave. Not for my sake or even for the Church’s sake. Please don’t leave Jesus. I know how hard it is for some of you to walk through those doors, knowing what you know about the sins of your leaders. I know that for some of you, just coming to Mass today was a heroic act. But I beg you to keep coming back, for the sake of the suffering heart of Jesus who is miserable enough without having to miss you on top of it.

You don’t come here for me, or for our bishop, or for the Pope. You come here for Jesus Christ who lived and died for you. You come here to be fed with the bread that gives eternal life. You come here because as bad as things can be in the Catholic Church, there’s nowhere else to go: if you’re looking for Jesus Christ present, body, blood, soul, and divinity, you don’t have a lot of options.

When Jesus offers himself in the Eucharist, he offers himself as our bridegroom. He gives us his body to cleanse us, to make us holy and without blemish, as St. Paul said. Our God doesn’t come to us as a demanding overlord or as a kindly grandfather, he comes as lover. He hands himself over for you at every Mass because he loves you too much to leave you.

Please don’t leave him.

There are two more verses in this chapter, verses that we won’t hear read at Mass. Just after Peter’s proclamation, Jesus looked at his disciples, at the ones who had distributed the loaves and fishes, the ones who had cast out demons and anointed the sick, and he said, “Did I not choose you twelve? Yet is not one of you a devil?”

He was speaking of Judas, of course. He knew what Judas would do. He knew that there would be Judases down through the ages, mixed in among his priests.

Don’t leave Jesus because of Judas. Then evil wins. Stay with us and fight. Fight for holiness, fight for justice, fight for the protection of the innocent. And pray. Pray for the survivors. Pray for those whose faith is shaken. Pray for the purification of our Church.

Joshua chose the Lord. The Israelites chose the Lord. Peter and the Apostles chose the Lord. Some with confidence, some with weak and shaking voices. You don’t have to be head cheerleader for Team Catholic right now. Just please don’t leave Jesus.

A Novena of Saints for a Church in Crisis

With all the news out of Washington and Pennsylvania, with the continued revelations of unimaginable horrors perpetrated by priests and bishops, we the laity have work to do. We must demand accountability and transparency. We must work for reform. We must speak out against the evils wrought in our name. But above all, we must pray. We must fast and pray for the healing of the victims, the protection of the innocent, the conversion of abusers, the restoration of the Church.

Today is the Solemnity of the Assumption, a holy day of obligation in this country. Ten days from now is the Feast of St. Bartholomew, a holy bishop who was flayed alive rather than betray his sacred office. I invite you to join me in praying a novena of Saints in the nine days leading up to St. Bartholomew’s feast day, for all those impacted by this new wave of scandals. Lord, have mercy on us.

Day 1: Mary, Mother of Priests, Mother of Sinners, Mother of All Believers

On the Solemnity of the Assumption, we ask the intercession of Mary, Mother of the Church, who weeps for those who suffer and for those who sin.

Father, we come before you afraid and broken. We have sinned, our leaders have sinned, and so many have suffered. Forgive us, Lord. Heal those who have been abused. Bring conversion to the hearts of sinners. Comfort those who can see no truth, goodness, or beauty in a Church that harbors such predators. Give us the grace to become Saints in and through this crisis.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Mary, Mother of the Church, pray for us.

Mary, Mother of Priests, pray for us.

Mary, Mother of Sinners, pray for us.

Mary, Mother of All Believers, pray for us.

Day 2: Bl. Laura Vicuña

Bl. Laura Vicuña suffered abuse at the hands of her mother’s lover for years. From her childhood, he pawed at her and tried to force drunken kisses on her. When she was uncomfortable spending the night under the same roof as him, knowing what he would try to do to her, she ran away. He beat her so badly that she died a week later of her wounds, forgiving both him and her mother.

Father, we pray for all victims of sexual abuse, especially those wounded by priests, bishops, and other representatives of your Church. Bring them healing, Lord, in mind, body, soul, emotions, and memories. Give them the grace to forgive and to be made new. Send your Spirit of peace on all who wrestle with guilt over abuse suffered by those in their care. May all who suffer surrender fear and shame and find rest in you.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Bl. Laura Vicuña, pray for us.

Day 3: St. John of the Cross

St. John of the Cross was, along with St. Teresa of Avila, the great reformer of the Carmelites in the 17th century, but his work made him enemies. A group of Carmelites who did not want to be reformed locked him in a tiny cell, nearly starved him to death, and beat him so brutally that he was scarred for life. Still he saw Christ as his bridegroom and wrote some of the most beautiful spiritual poetry ever written.

Lord, there are so many in your Church who have been terribly wounded by those who claim to speak in your name. Bring comfort to their hearts and healing, Lord Jesus. Help them to know your love and to find safety in your arms once more.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

St. John of the Cross, pray for us.

Day 4: St. Mary of Egypt and Bl. Anthony Neyrot

St. Mary of Egypt was a nymphomaniac and a rapist, herself likely a survivor of sexual abuse. She ran away from home at 12 and took up residence in the home of one of her father’s friends, where she was instructed in the art she would practice on young men, willing and unwilling, for the next 17 years. She was converted at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and retreated to the desert to do penance for the rest of her life.

Bl. Anthony Neyrot was an arrogant Dominican priest who became no more humble when sold into slavery to Islamic captors. When he was put in prison and made to fast on bread and water, though, he denied the faith, became a Muslim, married a Muslim woman, and began to translate the Quran into Latin. After an apparition from his mentor St. Antoninus, he repented, did public penance, and was martyred for leaving Islam.

Jesus, we beg for the conversion of all wolves in shepherds’ clothing. Put the fear of hell into the hearts of every deacon, priest, bishop, and lay minister who has harmed any of your people. Bring them to true repentance, Lord. Save their souls. We ask your mercy also, Lord, for all we have done to enable this sin, for our silence and complicity. Lord, have mercy.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

St. Mary of Egypt, pray for us. Bl. Anthony Neyrot, pray for us.

Day 5: St. Raphael Kalinowski

St. Raphael Kalinowski was a brilliant young Pole who was disillusioned by the Church of his parents and fell away from the faith in his youth. After years of study, work as a railway engineer, and a career as a revolutionary, he eventually returned to the Church and became a Carmelite priest and a personal hero of St. John Paul II.

Lord, as this scandal rocks our Church we know that many thousands will turn away from your Body here on Earth. Give them, Father, the grace to return. Divine Physician, heal their broken hearts and restore their faith in your Church. 

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

St. Raphael Kalinowski, pray for us.

Day 6: St. Catherine of Siena, St. Catherine of Genoa, and St. Charles Lwanga

St. Catherine of Siena was an uneducated laywoman who followed the call of the Holy Spirit to challenge the Pope himself. He had left Rome for Avignon and St. Catherine rebuked him with respect and fearlessness, demanding that he sacrifice his comfort to obey the Lord.

St. Catherine of Genoa lived a few centuries later, during a time of profound corruption in the Church. Weak bishops had refused to make the necessary sacrifices to implement the reforms of the Fourth Lateran Council, but this St. Catherine brought about reform through calling individuals to holiness rather than appealing to the hierarchy. A married woman whose husband was violent and unfaithful, Catherine had spent some years pursuing the things of the world before being converted and bringing her husband (and many, many others) to Christ. The Oratory of Divine Love movement, which spread throughout Italy and involves small groups of the faithful seeking personal holiness through prayer, study, and service, can be traced to her.

St. Charles Lwanga was a Ugandan layman who risked his life to protect teenage boys from the sexual predation of the king. His resistance to the king’s depravity and refusal to allow him to abuse other young men led to his martyrdom alongside many other chaste Christians.

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the countless laypeople who quietly pursue you in their daily lives. We pray that you would fill them with your Spirit to call your Church to greater holiness. Help us to fight for the protection of the innocent, whatever the cost. Give us the courage, wisdom, and humility to speak truth, demanding holiness from those who lead us while becoming saints ourselves.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

St. Catherine of Siena, pray for us. St. Catherine of Genoa, pray for us. St. Charles Lwanga, pray for us.

Day 7: Bl. Thaddeus McCarthy and St. Francis de Sales

Blessed Thaddeus McCarthy was appointed bishop of an Irish diocese but discovered that his see had been usurped. In an attempt to serve his people he went from village to village and was rejected everywhere. He dressed as a peasant to avoid being captured by his enemies, never once giving up on his call to shepherd his people, even though it was so exhausting that it soon cost him his life.

St. Francis de Sales was a wise and kind bishop who knew how to discipline his clergy when necessary. Once, having thrown a priest in jail, he appeared before the offending cleric in tears and spoke thus: “I conjure you, by the love and mercy of God, in which we all hope, to have pity on me, on the diocese, on the Church, and on the whole Order so much dishonored by the scandalous life you have hitherto led, which gives matter to our adversaries to blaspheme our holy Faith. I pray you to have pity on yourself, on your own soul, which you are sending to perdition for eternity; I exhort you in the name of Jesus Christ, on which you trample; by the goodness of the Saviour, Whom you crucify anew; and by that spirit of grace, whom you outrage!”

Lord, we are in desperate need of holy bishops. We beg you to convict the hearts of bishops who ought to resign and to raise up men who are unconcerned with status and advancement but long only to serve the kingdom. We pray for the purification of all clergy, that they would become men who seek you above all else.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Bl. Thaddeus McCarthy, pray for us. St. Francis de Sales, pray for us.

Day 8: St. Gerard Majella and St. Vitalis of Gaza

St. Gerard Majella was a lay Redemptorist brother when he was falsely accused of impregnating a woman. He refused to defend himself, preferring to suffer in silence as Christ had, but was ultimately vindicated.

St. Vitalis of Gaza was a hermit who returned to the city after decades in the desert and began visiting a different prostitute each night. The faithful were scandalized until he was killed in the street and hundreds of reformed prostitutes came to his funeral. He had given his reputation and ultimately his life for their salvation, for the souls of victimized women.

We pray, Lord, for all decent priests. Lord Jesus, you have called men to ordained ministry to be priest and victim; give those men who suffer unjustly the grace to unite their sacrifice to yours and to offer their pain in reparation for the sins of their brother priests. May they weep for the survivors of these crimes and not for their own suffering. Strengthen them to remain faithful, however heavy the Cross.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

St. Gerard Majella, pray for us. St. Vitalis of Gaza, pray for us.

Day 9: Bl. Oscar Romero and St. Bartholomew the Apostle

Blessed Oscar Romero was a peaceful, bookish man, happy to fly under the radar in his native El Salvador, where the government was oppressing and murdering his people. He spent years as a bishop who refused to make waves until a priest friend of his was murdered. Looking on the corpse of this priest, he was changed. He began to fight injustice and to speak out against the abuse of the innocent. He knew that he was making enemies but refused to be silenced and was ultimately assassinated while celebrating Mass.

St. Bartholomew was one of the first bishops, ordained by Jesus Christ himself. He was flayed alive rather than deny Jesus Christ.

Father, we pray for our bishops, that they would be given wisdom and courage to speak and act against the evil within their ranks. Send your Spirit upon them, Lord, and empower them to root out this sin, to punish predators, and to repent for their own complicity, whatever the cost. Make decent men Saints, Lord, and pastors in your image.

Lord, heal the survivors and protect the innocent.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Bl. Oscar Romero, pray for us. St. Bartholomew, pray for us.

 

The Daughters of St. Paul have put together a beautiful holy hour for reparation, which can be found here.

How Jesus Looks at You

Like much of the world, I was rather entranced by the idea of the Royal Wedding yesterday, by which I mean I watched a few very short clips of it. The sermon was striking, the music beautiful, and the fascinators left me wishing I had my own milliner.

But the most beautiful moment I saw was one I’ve seen at a hundred other weddings.1 A man looked at his bride as if to say, “How is it possible that the most incredible woman in the world chose me?”

I’ve seen a hundred men surreptitiously (or not-so-surreptitiously) wiping tears from their eyes as they gaze upon the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen. There was nothing remarkable about Prince Harry’s reaction.

Except that he, of all men, could have had any of a million other beautiful women. He’s a literal prince. He’s handsome. He wears a uniform. His mom was Princess Di! He is a catch.

But he looked at an American divorcée from a broken home and said, “I’m so lucky.”

Now Harry has his issues and Meghan is an incredible woman. He really did luck out with her. But watching him gaze at her, all I could think of was one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture: Isaiah 62:4-5. There, God says to Jerusalem–God says to you–“No more shall men call you forsaken or your land desolate, but you shall be called ‘my delight’ and your land espoused, for the Lord delights in you, and makes your land his spouse. As a young man marries a virgin, your builder shall marry you. And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, so shall your God rejoice in you.”

The way that Harry looked at Meghan? That has nothing on how God looks at you. And every time you go to Mass, your God stretches out his body on the marriage bed of the Cross and hands himself over in the Eucharist. He says “This is my body, given up for you,” as Harry and Meghan did in their vows, and you walk down the aisle to receive your bridegroom. When you say “Amen,” you make the same marriage vow: “This is my body, given up for you.”

And whatever your family background or dating history, whatever your race or income level, whether your ancestors were royals or slaves or both, he looks at you, this Prince who is making you a princess, and says, “I’m so lucky.”

The reason we love these royal weddings is because they remind us of what we’re called to be: daughters of the King married to the Prince of Peace who looks past all our flaws and sees only radiant beauty. The next time you go to Mass, imagine Jesus looking at you, with your bald spot and your stretch marks and your temper and your shame, and saying, “You look amazing. I’m so lucky.” Because he does. He delights in you. More than any mere man has ever loved a woman, he loves you.

What a God we serve, who would come to be beaten and suffocated to death so that he might stand at the end of the aisle and watch us walk to him, stunned by his good fortune in winning us at last. We are immeasurably blessed.

  1. Always the bridesmaid (or, in my case, cantor)…. [↩]

An Extra Hard Mother’s Day with an Extra Bit of Grace

I thought I was ready for Mother’s Day. I spent the week meditating on what a gift mothers are and on how spiritual motherhood is real motherhood. I read a few old messages from former students thanking me for being their mom. I woke up today to a dozen people wishing me a happy Mother’s Day–the mothers of my godchildren, a friend from high school (who offered her Mass for me today and not for her mother), one from college, a former student, a new friend, my own mom. Most of them are moms themselves, but they reached out because they see me as a mother, to them, to their children, to other spiritual children the Lord has given me.

I went to a different church today because yesterday’s had been rather more focused on motherhood than on Jesus, and the music at today’s church was powerful. I praised God and thanked him and surrendered my heart to him for the thousandth time. It was beautiful.

And then they asked all the mothers to stand. And as much as I try to believe that spiritual motherhood is really motherhood, I knew they didn’t mean me. So I sat. And they handed flowers to every woman I could see. They asked me to pass flowers to the women who had earned them. And I trust God so much and I love him so much and I’m so content to be in his will, I really am, but I sat there and sobbed.

Not just for me, for the thousands of devastated women in pews around the country. Women who have lost children or aborted children or placed children for adoption, women who long for motherhood or resent their motherhood, women for whom today is already painful. And then they’re asked to watch every other woman stand and be recognized, not knowing if they should stand too, or certain that they shouldn’t. I thought of the hearts being broken by well-meaning people in churches across the country, and I wept.

This is why we ask you, Fathers, not to do this. It’s not because people get offended, it’s because people’s deepest pain is laid bare in a place that ought to be safe.

I didn’t sing the closing hymn–I couldn’t sing without starting to ugly cry. And the moment the song was over, I knelt, hoping that the people around me wouldn’t turn to tell me what a nice voice I have or ask if I was visiting. I didn’t want to deal with it.

But a young woman came over, a student at Texas A&M, and told me she recognized me from St. Mary’s. She thanked me for the work I do and told me how much it matters. And she prayed over me, a little balm for my soul.

Another lady came over afterward and asked how I was doing. The body of Christ, my friends.

And when I finally got myself together and finished talking to Jesus, I turned around to grab my things and saw that someone had given me a flower. Had given me *her* flower, most likely. Had seen me in my pain and reached out to tell me that I count, too.

So I cried some more and took the flower over to Mary, who had asked her Son to send those women to love on me. And I didn’t really feel any better, but at least I felt seen.

If you’re struggling today, I see you. I’m sorry it’s hard and I’m sorry we’ve made it harder. If you’re missing your mother or wishing your relationship with her was different, I offer you the Mother of God to take her place. If you’re feeling your empty womb or empty arms or empty home, I promise you this: spiritual motherhood is not a consolation prize. It’s not the same as physical motherhood, but it’s real and it’s essential for the salvation of souls. You matter. Your motherhood matters.

If you’ve got someone in your life who might be struggling, take a page out of the book of the many people who love me far better than I deserve and reach out. Tell her how she’s been a mother to you or your children. Thank her for the way she loves the people around her. Offer to pray for those grieving the loss of their mothers.

I wanted to spend today just celebrating the many, many amazing moms I know. But instead, God asked me to sit with the many other women who are suffering. Their pain shouldn’t take away your joy–you don’t have to feel guilty about having children or a great mom. But knowing how other people are suffering today should make you even more grateful for what you have and should call you to reach out to them in their pain as well.

It’s a hard day. It’s a beautiful day. Because motherhood–womanhood–personhood–is hard and beautiful. Happy Mother’s Day, friends. I hope the Blessed Mother holds you close today. 

Books to Buy for Mother’s Day (Or New Alumnae)

Mother’s Day is coming up, and for many of us, that means shopping for the perfect present, whether it’s for your mom, your wife, your godmother, your children’s godmothers, your sister, or a woman who’s been like a mother to you or your kids. (Plus graduation’s coming up, and many of us are looking for gifts for young female grads, as well.) And while flowers are nice and jewelry is lovely, there’s really nothing better than a good book.1 So here are some of my favorite books written by female authors and largely geared towards women–which isn’t, of course, to say that you have to get a book written for women, just that this is a women’s holiday and these are (largely) women’s books. Pick from one of these and you won’t be disappointed.

Ponder is a book of reflections on the rosary that uses lectio divina and some journaling techniques to help women enter deeply into the mysteries of the rosary. It’s a beautiful book to help you get started reading Scripture or to transform the way you pray the rosary. There’s a great online community where women share their reflections and experiences of praying through the readings, or you can get your own group together to meet up each week. Plus, I wrote two of the essays!2

There’s also a children’s version available so your kids can practice reading Scripture, too. Designed for 8-13-year-olds, it’s got coloring pages, puzzles, and discussion questions to get you praying with your kids.

Jen Fulwiler’s new book, One Beautiful Dream, is simply amazing. She writes about her struggle to balance life as a mom with doing what she’s passionate about, but it’s a book that will speak to the heart of any Christian, particularly women. I wrote more about it here, but suffice it to say that it’s riotously funny and also likely to make you weep.

The best women’s Bible study book I’ve ever encountered is Who Does He Say You Are? by Colleen Connell Mitchell. Colleen enters deeply into Scripture and wrestles with the stories like a Protestant instead of using them as a framework to make a point, as Catholic Bible studies often do. When I read this book, I kept getting frustrated because she would say something that would just wreck me and I didn’t have time for deep introspection at the moment. I learned to read right before my holy hour because every time I read, the Holy Spirit started working. It’s great for a group study or just for an individual looking to get to know the Gospels better.

If you know a woman who doesn’t yet have a Bible (or doesn’t have a Catholic Bible, or doesn’t have a Bible she likes), the new Catholic Journaling Bible is just lovely.3 It’s got beautiful artwork and calligraphy and wide margins that make me almost sinfully jealous. It’s the NABRE (the translation we use at Mass) complete with footnotes, and it would make a beautiful guest book at a wedding.

My Sisters the Saints, by Colleen Carroll Campbell, is a powerful memoir that will appeal to women across the spectrum, from agnostics to daily communicants. Campbell’s journey from party girl to 20-something speechwriter for President George W. Bush to infertility to high-risk pregnancy will keep you reading, and along the way she’ll introduce you to half a dozen Saints you needed to know better. This is a particularly good gift for women who aren’t that into Jesus–everyone will find something to identify with here.

If you’d rather give a book that has more than six Saints, The Big Book of Women Saints is a great choice.4 I’m very picky about my Saints books, and while this isn’t my favorite ever, the author does an excellent job of telling the stories in a pithy way that makes you want to learn more. There’s a Saint for every day of the year, many of whom you’ve never heard of before, and a Scripture to go along with her. Plus there are quotations from many of the Saints so you can read her actual words. It’s a great way to make some new Saint friends, and with an entry each day, it’s a good invitation to have some discipline in your spiritual life.

Full disclosure: I haven’t read Mary Haseltine’s new book on pregnancy and birth, but everyone I love loves it. My friend Christina said Made for This: The Catholic Mom’s Guide to Birth is the only book you need to read about pregnancy and childbirth, and that woman read a ton of books when she was pregnant. If you know a woman who’s expecting–even if it’s not her first baby–this is a must-read.

And now for something completely different: Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers is a beautiful book about God’s love for the human soul. Rivers was a romance novelist before she met Jesus, and this book reads something like a historical fiction romance novel, but with powerful themes that will honestly transform your prayer life. Redeeming Love is a retelling of the book of Hosea set in the Gold Rush, with Michael Hosea modeling the love of Jesus for his bride. I’ll warn you that there’s some reference to sexual assault and prostitution, so you’ll want to be aware before picking up this book, but the story’s so powerful that I think it’s worth pushing through for most people. (If you want to give it to a younger woman–say, a high school girl–have her mom read it first to get a sense of whether her daughter is ready for the intimacy found in the book. It’s nothing graphic, but it could be too intense for younger girls.)

So there you have it–my favorite books for Christian women. What else ought to make the list? I’m always up for a book recommendation!

  1. Take note, gentlemen: if you’re looking to woo me, books. Also lilacs. [↩]
  2. It’s my first time being published, so you should buy it just because you like me. [↩]
  3. Buy it on Jet. For some reason it’s really cheap there. [↩]
  4. Despite its unfortunate use of the word “women” as an adjective instead of the appropriate “female,” but we’ll blame the publisher for that. [↩]

One Beautiful Dream: Not Just a Catholic Mom Book

A few years ago, Jen Fulwiler’s much-anticipated memoir came out, a book that described her conversion from atheism to Catholicism. Something Other than God was a great read–I know because I bought it as a gift for my mom and borrowed it immediately after giving it to her. I recommended it to all kinds of people as a remarkable account of Jen’s journey.

So when I heard Jen had another book coming out, I was excited. Then I read about the topic–how she balances family life and pursuing her passions. It’s a great topic, and really important, but I’m not a mom. Still, Jen’s a great writer, so I figured I’d give it a read so I could recommend it to my many mom friends.

Last week, I came home to find a package on my doorstep. Inside was One Beautiful Dream. I was scheduled to be on Jen’s radio show the next day, so I figured I’d get started on the book.

I was so excited to talk to her about it the next day.

Six hours later, I closed the book with a contented (and bleary-eyed) smile and went to bed, but not before texting my sister to say good morning.1 I had read until 6 a.m. And I wasn’t a bit sorry about it.

The next day, I picked the book up again, this time with a pencil. The first time through, I had been so caught up in the story and so busy laughing that I hadn’t marked up my book. I don’t remember the last time I liked a book too much to write in it. Not to worry–I knew I needed to reread, so the second time through, I underlined and bracketed and annotated to my heart’s delight.

This book is so good.

It’s hilarious, so funny I literally laughed out loud in my house all by myself. It’s a compelling story, filled with cringe-worthy moments and cliffhangers at the end of chapters. How does a suburban homeschooling mom have so many cliffhangers in what the world would see as a mundane life? I don’t know, but Jen is a master storyteller. It’s moving, frequently bringing me to tears, then to a realization that I needed to pray about whatever point Jen had just made. Honestly, there are things in this book that I’ll be praying about for months, maybe years.

Because this isn’t a Catholic mom book. Sure, it’s great for Catholic moms. But Jen’s discussion of discernment and passion and sacrifice and being at peace with your gifts and flaws? This stuff is relevant to every Christian. So let me tell you who I think should read this book:

Catholic moms. Jen is so real about the (sometimes soul-sucking) work that comes with having a lot of little kids, or even with big kids whose needs make it hard to find time for what she calls your “blue flame,” the things that make you come alive. She talks about guilt over her discontentment in her stay-at-home mom life and how she and her husband worked on building a family culture that would be nourishing to all of them. She points out the way different women’s gifts manifest differently in motherhood and how all our competition is ridiculous. If you need to feel better about yourself as a mom, to find strategies for parenting in a way that uses your gifts, or to seek balance in your life so that you have some creative outlet, this book will inspire you in ways you can’t imagine.

Non-Catholic Christian moms. Y’all, this book is published by Zondervan. You know it’s not some crazy Catholic hoo-doo. Now, Jen’s Catholic, and she’s not trying to hide it. But this book is about a woman who loves Jesus and is trying to honor him in her life, through her family and her work. Every time she talks about funny Catholic stuff, she explains it. And her account of what was going on in her heart as God led her to have six children (as an introvert!) will help you understand some of your Catholic friends with the big old homeschooling van. Plus, all the above about peace and balance and not comparing.

Women without kids. Yes, this book is about how Jen worked to be present to her family while pursuing her passions. But ultimately, it’s about how she fought against the devil’s lies, the ones telling her she wasn’t good enough, to follow the Lord. It’s about discernment and communication. And it’s an invitation to live selflessly, whether or not self-sacrifice is foisted upon you by a gaggle of children. Believe me when I tell you that you will benefit from reading this book whether you have children or not. If for no other reason, read it so you can start sobbing at chapter 35–so beautiful.

Men with kids. Gentlemen, if you’re married, this book will give you insight into what your wife is struggling with. And while some of what this book is wrestling with is particularly difficult for women, everyone with a family and a job has to figure out what work sacrifices to make for family and what family sacrifices to make for work. Seeing the way Joe and Jen deal with tough decisions and tricky conversations might help your communication skills. If nothing else, read it for some of Joe’s gems. Like the time Jen told him she was expecting and asked how he felt about the new baby. “I want to wait until I know how you feel. I’ll be devastated or excited or whatever you want me to be.” Well played, Mr. Fulwiler. Well played.

Men without kids. Honestly, it’s just a funny book. But there are points in here that will challenge anyone, like when Jen talks about living a love-first life, about how much of our happiness lies in shifting our expectations, and about how asking for help is a gift to the person helping you. And maybe spending a few hours reading about life with a million kids will help you in your vocational discernment….

People who can’t quite seem to avoid getting pregnant. If you deal with hyperfertility and (like Bl. Maria Quattrocchi) the thought of another baby fills you with dread, reading about Jen’s experience of openness to life will give you a lot to think about. She reframes the conversation about how to survive one more baby, wondering instead how she could live without that child when she’s a 50-year-old who will visit Jen in the hospital one day. It may not get you excited for your fourth under four, but it’ll definitely give you some hope.

Whoever you are, I think you’ll enjoy this book. Unless you don’t like laughing. Or wisdom. Or laughing and crying and taking a long, hard look at your life all in the space of 3 pages. If that’s you, skip this one. Otherwise, head over to Amazon and grab a copy (or 5) today!

FYI, I got this book for free because Jen’s awesome, but y’all know I’m too lazy to write a whole long review about a book I didn’t love. Opinions are very much my own.

  1. She asked how the book was. I said great. She asked if she could borrow it. I didn’t answer because I really didn’t want to lend it to her because I had loved it so much that I was feeling very possessive. [↩]