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An Asian Saint a Day

Do you know when the Gospel first got to Asia?

When I ask this of fairly educated people, they often guess the 16th century, with St. Francis Xavier.

“Earlier.”

“Maybe something to do with Marco Polo in the 13th century?”

“Earlier.”

“Ummm…maybe during the Patristic period?”

“Let me help. Where was Jesus born?”1

“…Bethlehem.”

“Which is in Israel. And what continent is Israel on?”

“Oh, shoot. Asia.”

Yup. The Gospel was first preached in Asia. The angels sang Gloria in Asia, to an Asian couple with an Asian baby. The Apostles were all Asian.

But people don’t usually mean the Middle East when they say Asia. So, okay. When did the Gospel first get further east? Into, say, India?

52.

That’s a year.

52 AD.

That’s when St. Thomas took the Good News to India.

China was first evangelized in the 7th century.

Much of Asia didn’t have any missionaries sent to them until much later, but they’ve certainly made up for it in the meantime. Korea alone has 103 Saints, 124 Blesseds, and 133 Servants of God. Japan has 26 Saints and 188 Blesseds. Not to mention the many, many Middle Eastern Saints. Or the 120 Chinese. Or the thousands of Vietnamese martyrs.

Let’s just say, if all the statues in your Church are of white people, it’s because y’all aren’t looking very far from home. (Also, my celestial bestie is Japanese, so you should really get to know him.)

The Catholic Church is not a white Church. It wasn’t when it started and it sure as heck isn’t now, when it’s most alive in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.

May is Asian and Pacific American Heritage Month. To celebrate, I’ll be sharing a different Asian Saint on Instagram and Facebook every day. I’d love it if you’d join me and get to know our beautiful and incredibly diverse family in heaven.

  1. You would be amazed at how often youth answer “Jerusalem” to this question. I know they know better, they’re just not thinking. [↩]

How to Make a Pilgrimage to Every American Saint

Several years ago, I started falling in love with the Saints, with the witness they provide and the encouragement I find in their holiness despite their brokenness. And since I spend a good amount of time abroad, I got to visit lots of different Saints. It’s much harder to do in the US, I thought, but then I flew back from Europe and accidentally visited five Saints in six weeks. Turns out, it’s not as tricky as it might be, if you’re being intentional about it. So over the course of about 14 months, I managed to visit every Saint and Blessed in the US.

It’s much easier when you’re a hobo, of course, but some of these Saints might be driveable from your home–or a good excuse for a family vacation to paradise. If you’re looking to join me in visiting every American Saint, here’s how to do it–in the most epic Catholic road (/air) trip of all time.

We’ll begin just across the border in Montreal (though since we’re about to visit St. Kateri’s hometown you can skip this one if you must. This is where she’s buried, though, and you’ll get three extra Canadian Saints, too).

St. Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American Saint, is buried in the mission church on the Kahnawake Mohawk reservation just south of Montreal. The church is called St. Francis Xavier and is a beautiful witness to authentic inculturation, with prayers written in English and Mohawk throughout the church. You can pray in front of the tomb of the young woman who endured ridicule and persecution but never gave up her faith.

They also have a great gift shop.

A few miles north is the incredible shrine to St. Joseph, built by St. André Bessette. In all honesty, I really don’t like the upper basilica, but there are some beautiful images of St. Joseph down below, as well as thousands of crutches left by people who came with disabilities and left walking on their own. Also, the body of St. André, the first Saint of the Congregation of the Holy Cross.1

Canes and crutches no longer needed thanks to his intercession.

Not too far from St. Andre is the church housing the body of St. Marguerite Bourgeoys, though it’s closed for half of January and all of February, so plan accordingly. We didn’t get to go inside, but said hi from the street.

I’m sure it’s lovely when it’s open.

Half an hour north of the city is a beautiful church stunningly situated on the banks of the St. Lawrence River, where St. Marguerite d’Youville is buried, a woman whose life reads like a soap opera but ends with a halo.

The chandeliers are remarkable.

Heading south from Canada (though really, you ought to make a detour to visit the Canadian shrine to the North American martyrs–it’s amazing), we’ll spend a little more time with St. Kateri in her hometown of Ossernenon. The shrine at Auriesville is the burial ground of St. Rene Goupil, St. Isaac Jogues, and St. Jean de Lalande. Ten years after the martyrdom of St. Isaac and St. Jean, St Kateri Tekakwitha was born in this town. The blood of the martyrs is truly the seed of the Church.

Four Saints in one village is nothing in Europe, but it’s a huge deal in the US.

Continuing south, we’ll stop in northern Manhattan to visit St. Francis Xavier Cabrini. While you’re in town, swing by St. Patrick’s Cathedral to visit a handful of Venerables and Servants of God (Ven. Fulton Sheen!) and make your way down to Staten Island to see Dorothy Day and Fr. Vincent Capodanno, both Servants of God.

St. Francis Xavier Cabrini, bottom; Jesus, top.
Fulton Sheen, Pierre Toussaint, and Terence Cooke, all at St. Pat’s.

Because she’s not far out of our way, we’ll swing through Convent Station, New Jersey to say hello to Bl. Miriam Teresa Demjanovich, a sort of American St. Thérèse. The church will probably be locked, but if you go through the convent, you may find a Sister who’s excited to tell you all about her. (Look for the Holy Family Chapel on the grounds of the College of Saint Elizabeth.)

She likely died of a burst appendix, so a good intercessor in cases of appendicitis.

From there, we’ll head down to Philadelphia, where we’ll visit St. Katherine Drexel and St. John Neumann. Though I visited St. Katherine Drexel at her motherhouse just north of the city, apparently her relics will soon be moved to the cathedral in downtown Philadelphia, not far from St. John Neumann’s shrine. If you’re headed to visit her, I’d call the motherhouse and see what the status is. If she hasn’t been moved yet, you can always go try to sweet talk one of the Sisters into letting you make a visit–it’s worth the detour from St. John Neumann to give it a shot.

He seems to have been absolutely tiny. (His body is in the crypt. I have no idea what’s in the sarcophagus-looking thing in the main church.)
She’s a beautiful intercessor for racial justice.

Next we’re off to see the very first native-born American Saint to be canonized, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Emmitsburg, MD, just down the street from Mount St. Mary’s University.

Featuring my niece, Elizabeth Anna, who considers St. Elizabeth Ann Seton her “best Saint friend” and is proudly showing off her Saint block that is now a third class relic.

Now it’s finally time to leave the East Coast and head inland to visit some more Saint friends. Our first stop will be in Saint-Mary-of-the-Woods, Indiana, to see St. Theodore Guerin (spoiler: she’s a woman). Make sure to visit the adoration chapel while you’re there–it’s beautiful.

Her tomb is inside the museum.
Here’s the monstrance.

Further west, we’ll find St. Rose Philippine Duchesne (and Imo’s Pizza) in St. Charles, MO. It’s an…interesting chapel. But Jesus is there, and so is our Saint friend, so we’re calling it a win.

I kind of love it when they don’t update their tombs to say “Saint” because her being their Mother is so important.

Now we have to drive the rest of the way across the country, so we might as well stop by Oklahoma City to see Bl. Stanley Rother. He’s the United States’ first native-born martyr and our first beatified native-born priest, plus he’s an Oklahoma farm boy, so he’s all around awesome. He used to be buried out in his hometown, but his body has been moved to a chapel at the cemetery by the OKC Pastoral Center while they get an amazing shrine built.

I can’t find the picture of his grave, so you’ll have to settle for this shot of me with two seminarians, Bl. Stanley’s sister, his brother, and his sister-in-law, nbd.

Stop through Chimayo if you like on your way to the Carmel Mission, one of many mission churches established by St. Junipero Serra, our most recently canonized Saint.

It’s really a beautiful, peaceful spot.

From there I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hop a plane to Hawaii. If you can make it out to Molokai to spend time in the leper colony where St. Damien de Veuster and St. Marianne Cope worked, that’s awesome! But if not, you can stop by the cathedral in Honolulu and visit their relics there.

Part of his body is in Belgium and she’s got a museum in Syracuse, NY, but you can’t truly visit them without going to Hawaii, right? Right.

Apologies to Bl. Solanus Casey and Bl. Francis Xavier Seelos, who didn’t make this road trip because they were geographically inconvenient. If you want to add Detroit and New Orleans to your list, you will have hit every single (U.S.) American Saint and Blessed.2 Don’t even get me started on Venerables and Servants of God…. (Pro tip: www.findagrave.com is your best resource for all of them.)3

Bl. Solanus Casey, future patron Saint of ice cream, pray for us!
If you go see Bl. Francis Xavier Seelos, then you get to eat in New Orleans. Double worth it.

So there you have it, folks: how to visit every American Saint (and Blessed). Share your pictures with #AmericanSaintsPilgrimage and tag me (@mhunterkilmer on Instagram) so I can be excited with you. And to make it even easier, here’s a map!

Click the link for more details, though not exact addresses. You can find those by visiting the websites linked above.
  1. Go Irish!! [↩]
  2. And you can visit Ven. Henriette DeLille while you’re in NOLA. [↩]
  3. Pretty sure nobody voice searches “Where is [X] buried?” as much as I do. [↩]

What I Mean When I Say, “Jesus, I Trust in You.”

This evening, I finished my Divine Mercy novena before Mass and began my meditation. I was, as usual, rather spacey, without any particular focus to my prayer, but I kept internally murmuring, “Jesus, I trust in you.”

It’s a good prayer–Jesus himself taught it to St. Faustina. And it’s a powerful thing to pray even when you don’t totally mean it, in the hopes that the Spirit will make it true. But I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, just staring blankly in the direction of a Divine Mercy image and occasionally tossing it out there: “Jesus, I trust in you.”

And then I felt him ask, “Do you trust me with your fertility?”

Oof.

Friends, I am 34 and very single. I spent all week rejoicing over the Easter pictures of your beautiful families on social media (and, if I’m being honest, having some less delightful feelings, too). I am supremely aware that the odds of my ever having a family of my own get slimmer with every passing year. I know 34 isn’t old. I get that. But it’s Catholic old. And when most of your friends have at least 5 kids and none of the men your age are single, it’s hard not to see your biological clock as more of a time bomb.

I don’t share about this kind of thing often because it makes me feel rather pathetic. Also because when I do, some people seem inclined to try to make me feel worse. Or write entire blog posts excoriating me. You know, because that’s helpful.

And I’m not trying to start a pity party, I’m just trying to give you a sense of what his question to me meant. “Do you trust me with your fertility?”

Because the answer to that is absolutely yes, spoken in a soft and shuddering voice. I trust him with my (waning) fertility. I trust him with my lonely heart. I trust him with my homelessness and aimlessness.

I do not trust him to give me a family.

I do not trust him to give me a home.

He never promised me those things.

When I say, “Jesus, I trust in you,” I’m telling him I trust him to be God. I trust him to make the calls. I trust that whatever he gives me–or doesn’t give me–is best. I’m saying, “Your will be done.”

I do not trust him to give me what I want. At some level, I don’t even want him to give me what I want. A God who exists merely to satisfy my whims is no God at all.

I trust him to tell me no. I trust him when he tells me nothing at all for years and years and years. I trust him when he feels incredibly distant at the time I think I need him most. I trust him to be God.

During the reading of the Passion on Palm Sunday, I was struck by Mark 15:32, when the bystanders taunted him, “Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” It wasn’t really a prayer, but still: they called to God with a request and he said no.

Thank God he said no. Where would we be if he had consented? Thank God for his mercy poured out in unanswered prayers, whether we understand it in this life or not.

Jesus, I trust in you.

A Saint a Day for Black History Month

Last week, I sat in the back row of an adoration chapel in Texas. In that row with me sat an Asian woman, a black woman, and three Hispanic women.

On New Year’s Eve, I went to Mass in Georgia. Watching people go up for communion, I was awed at the diversity. People from India, East Asia, the Pacific Islands, Africa, North and South America, even Europe–this really is a universal Church we belong to.

And, whatever your church’s stained glass windows may suggest, the Saints are a remarkably diverse group as well. There are ten times as many Chinese Saints as American Saints, and while many of the ones we know best are white, even some of those aren’t as blond and blue-eyed as the statues in our Irish-built churches would lead us to believe.

So for Black History Month, I thought it might be nice to get to know some of the many Saints with roots in Africa. With some of the older ones, it’s hard to know exactly what race they may have been, but to my mind there’s no reason to assume someone from North Africa didn’t have some traditionally African features.

I’ll be sharing one of these Saints (or Saints-to-be) every day over on Instagram and Facebook with the hashtag #BlackSaints, so follow me over there to keep these heroes of the faith before your eyes this month. FYI, this is just a small sampling of the many, many black Saints. And believe me, there are some incredible stories in here.

  1. Bl. Victoire Rasoamanarivo

    2. Blessed Victoire Rasoamanarivo (1848-1894) was born a pagan princess and ultimately became an activist, a contemplative, and a national hero. After she converted to Catholicism in her teens, she experienced extreme persecution from her family, even an attempted assassination arranged by her husband. When Bl. Victoire was 35, the queen of Madagascar sent all the priests in the country into exile. They left the care of the Church in Bl. Victoire's hands. When the government locked the churches, she presented herself before the queen and the prime minister to object. When they stationed soldiers outside to bar entry for prayer, Victoire calmly approached the armed men, saying, “If you must have blood, begin by shedding mine. Fear will not keep us from assembling for prayer.” She stared them down, then led the assembled community into the church. After the missionaries' return, she worked with prisoners, lepers, and the abandoned poor, and when the uncle who had so persecuted her fell out of favor with the court, she cared for him as well. Finally, at the age of 46, this strong and courageous leader went home peacefully to Christ. #BlackSaints #BlackHistoryMonth

    A post shared by Meg Hunter-Kilmer (@mhunterkilmer) on

  2. St. Moses the Black

    3. St Moses the Black was basically a land pirate. A former slave, he became the ringleader of a band of 75 outlaws. This guy delighted in murder, fornication, and revenge, once swimming the mile-wide Nile with a dagger in his teeth to knife a guy whose dog had barked at him. Eventually, his brigandry got the better of him and he ran to a monastery in an attempt to avoid the police. Once there, he was overcome by the love of Christ and begged to be received as a monk. It took him quite a while to adjust to life as a monk; once four robbers broke in and Moses beat their faces in before remembering himself. He then tied them up and took them to his abbot, sheepishly saying something like, “It used to be I woulda killed them, but I’m thinking that’s not how we do?” His monastic life was extremely difficult, as one might expect of a man accustomed to action and terrible sin, but he fought for years to overcome his temptations and ultimately became a priest and then an abbot himself, leading dozens of souls in the way of holiness. When another group of outlaws was approaching the monastery, Moses urged his men to flee, saying of himself, “Those who live by the sword must die by the sword.” He welcomed his murderers with open arms and was rewarded with a martyr’s crown. #BlackSaints #BlackHistoryMonth

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  3. Bl. Daudi Okelo and Jildo Irwa

    4. Bl. Daudi Okelo and Jildo Irwa were teenage catechists martyred in Uganda in 1918. Daudi was born around 1902 and Jildo around 1906, both to pagan families, but they took to heart the preaching of the missionaries and were both baptized in 1916. Not long after, the catechist in a remote village died, leaving those villagers with nobody to instruct them in the faith. After some time, Daudi convinced the local priest that he and Jildo were ready to take on the role of catechist, and 18 months after being baptized, they were setting out alone to a village known to be unsafe. Shy Daudi took the lead in instruction while the more excitable Jildo led the children in games and songs. But there were those who saw Christianity as an imposition of the British Empire, and thus the two young men as tools of colonialism. Despite their youth and gentle natures, they were killed for their faith in October of 1918. #BlackSaints #BlackHistoryMonth

    A post shared by Meg Hunter-Kilmer (@mhunterkilmer) on

  4. Pope St. Victor I
  5. St. Martin de Porres
  6. Servant of God Augustus Tolton
  7. Ven. Henriette deLille
  8. St. Josephine Bakhita
  9. Sts. Augustine and Monica
  10. St. Charles Lwanga
  11. Bl. Cyprian Michael Iwene Tansi
  12. St. Mary of Egypt
  13. Ven. Pierre Toussaint
  14. Servant of God Julia Greeley
  15. St. Antonio Vieira
  16. Servant of God Mary Elizabeth Lange
  17. Sts. Timothy and Maura
  18. St. Cyprian of Carthage
  19. Our Lady of Kibeho
  20. Sts. Perpetua and Felicity
  21. Ven. Teresa Chikaba
  22. St. Maurice
  23. Bl. Isidore Bakanja
  24. St. Simon of Cyrene
  25. Bl. Marie-Clémentine Anuarite Nengapeta
  26. Bl. Benedict Daswa
  27. St. Benedict the Moor
  28. Ven. Zeinab Alif

I’ll drop in every day to share an image of a different black Saint along with their story, in brief. If you just can’t wait, click through to this great site for an introduction to some of the Saints we’ll be getting to know later this month. So head on over to Instagram and let’s rejoice in the remarkable universality of our Catholic Church.

15 Catholic New Year’s Resolutions

Merry Christmas, friends! I’m sure you all know that Christmas has just begun, but New Year’s is fast approaching, and with it resolutions. I’m all about eating well and exercising more (I mean, I’m not, but you know what I mean), but I thought you might appreciate some suggestions of how to kick start your spiritual life in 2018.

 

  1. Read the Bible. The whole thing. But don’t start at Genesis and read through to Revelation. Check out this one year Bible plan and take a more manageable approach to soaking in God’s word this year. And oh my goodness, I love this new Catholic Journaling Bible! (If you happen to be engaged, I think it would make the best wedding guest book ever.)
  2. Get to know the Saints. I’m relatively new in my love of the Saints, but (as with most things) I’ve become rather obsessed. Pick up a cheap copy of my favorite books about Saints (Modern Saints volume 1 and volume 2 by Ann Ball) or click over to my page on Aleteia to read 50 different Saint bios that I wrote last year. But vague resolutions are useless, so rather than resolving to “get to know the Saints,” try something more like, “Each week, I’ll learn about a new Saint, trying to figure out what I need to imitate in his or her life and virtues, and asking for his or her intercession.” By the end of 2018, you’ll have 52 more new besties in heaven! Or maybe pick one Saint per month to get to know more deeply, or two or three Saints for the year whose biographies you can get. Anything to grow closer to your family in heaven.
  3. Sign up for a holy hour. Don’t just promise yourself that you’ll make a holy hour each week, actually sign up so there’s more accountability than just your conscience. If you’re not sure where there’s adoration near you, check out this directory, which I’ve found to be remarkably accurate. If there isn’t adoration near you and you can’t ask your priest to start exposing the Blessed Sacrament, a private commitment to spend an hour before the tabernacle once a week would also be great.
  4. Read something worthwhile. You’ll have to determine for yourself what a good goal would be–one spiritual book a month or half an hour of spiritual reading a day or maybe just one book this year–but reading worthwhile books can be an absolute game-changer. Check out my recommendations of spiritual reading, Catholic novels, and apologetics, or watch this space for a list of all time favorites.
  5. Commit to daily silent prayer. I never tire of telling people that while a devotion to the Rosary or the Liturgy of the Hours or even the Bible isn’t a requirement for canonization, regular silent prayer is. This is what makes Saints. Every other kind of prayer (and there are many) only exists to lead you into silent prayer, but most of us spend all our prayer time doing and very little being. This year, commit to a certain amount of time every day without fail just being still before the Lord, talking to him and listening, too. A good rule of thumb is one minute per day for every year old you are, which is great if you’re 15 but not so much if you’re 45 with a million little kids and no experience with silence. Start with 15 minutes a day, see if you can’t stretch it to 20 for Lent, then go from there.
  6. Cling to the Sacraments. Make a concrete resolution to live a more Sacramental life. Up your confession game to once a month, add one extra daily Mass each week, or spend more time praying in a church instead of just praying in traffic. Perhaps it’s something as small as crossing yourself every time you pass a Catholic church (greeting Jesus in the Eucharist) or making sure to stop by the tabernacle first thing when you get to church and last thing before you leave, even if you’re just there to get something signed or to go to a meeting. Treat him like he’s really present there.
  7. Go on a retreat. It can be really difficult to find a way to leave home and work and family for several days to make a retreat, but it can also be absolutely life-changing. Make a commitment to go on a retreat this year, whether directed or silent.
  8. Join a group. Whether it’s a Bible study or a faith-sharing group, find a group of Catholics who are meeting each week to pray and grow in faith together. There’s only so much you can grow in holiness when you’re doing it alone.
  9. Do a daily examen. More than just an examination of conscience, the examen invites us to see how God is working in our lives and how we’ve chosen to respond. Make a habit of spending 10 minutes each night (or morning, or on your commute) walking through the previous 24 hours with the Lord. End by reflecting on the best part of the last day, the worst part, and what particular grace you want for the next day. Learn more here.
  10. Learn to love the Blessed Mother. For many of us, Mary wasn’t a big part of our childhood, but she was a huge part of Jesus’ childhood, so she has to be part of our lives. If you don’t love her as you should (and who does?), try adding some Mary into your life. Maybe it’s time to commit to a daily rosary, like it or not–but you don’t have to! There are other ways to love Mary. You could try some good books on Mary (I recommend Hail, Holy Queen and The Reed of God). You could finally make your Marian consecration. Or daily pray a Marian litany. Or meditate on Marian art. Just try to love her more.
  11. Start fasting. Did you know all Catholics are expected to perform some act of penance every Friday and the US Bishops recommend abstaining from meat? Do that. If you’re already there, try dropping the sugar from your coffee or skipping snacks on non-feast days. Fasting isn’t just for Lent, it’s a way for us to be comformed to Christ every day.
  12. Make a pilgrimage. You don’t have to go to Rome (though if you’re looking for an excuse, drop me a line and I’ll tell you that you do). Look up some local (or only-10-hours-away) Saints or Blesseds or Venerables. If that’s too far, just make a pilgrimage to your cathedral or a local shrine. The act of pilgrimage reminds us that we’re all sojourners here, that this world is not our home and we’re all pilgrims on our way back to the Father.
  13. Change what you listen to. Instead of Top 40, try some Audrey Assad or Matt Maher. Instead of talk radio, check out some podcasts (I love Lanky Guys, Fr. John Riccardo, Catholic Stuff You Should Know, and The Eagle and Child). Sanctify your commute and your time in the pickup line by infusing it with Christ.
  14. Give. If you’re not tithing, resolve to up your giving to 10%. If you already are, maybe try for 11%, or even 15%. It may be more important for you to give your time than your money. Pray about a measurable goal for giving more, then do it.
  15. Forgive. Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling. Make a resolution to forgive somebody for whom you’ve been harboring resentment, then do something tangible like offering every Friday Mass for them or placing a picture of them before an image of the Blessed Mother or just daily praying, “Father, I forgive N. Please give me the grace to forgive him/her.” For most of us, a year of such actions will move the forgiveness from our will to our hearts. For the rest, it’s still a good start.

New Year’s resolutions are notoriously hard to keep, but we belong to a Church that continually gives us a second chance. So make these resolutions, but set yourself a reminder for February 10th (just before Ash Wednesday) to check in on how these resolutions are going and try to start afresh for Lent. Then do the same thing for Easter, for Ordinary Time, and again for Advent. By the end of 2018, maybe you will have made a real change!

We’ve only scratched the surface here, friends. What other suggestions do you have for Catholic resolutions?

Advent Boot Camp 2023

I put out an Advent Boot Camp three 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; the Office of Readings2; 10 minutes silence
  • Day 7:5 minute warmup; “In the Bleak Midwinter”; 1 John 4; 5 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 [↩]

An Advent Devotional You Need to Check Out

A few weeks ago, my sister sent me a Facebook message asking me if I wanted to take a look at a new Advent devotional that some of her friends had put together. Now, I’m not usually one for women’s devotionals (or devotionals of any sort, for that matter). But my sister knows this, so when she suggested Rooted in Hope, I thought it was worth a look.

Ladies, this Scripture study is an actual Scripture study! It trains the reader in lectio divina, an ancient practice of prayerfully reading Scripture, then leads you through that practice with different Scripture passages each day of Advent. But more than that, it gives you background and context for each Scriptural passage, followed by a reflection on each passage. The reflections deal with all different kinds of life experiences, with different women reflecting on the different ways they’ve learned to love God.

But the heart of the devotional is God’s Word–both excerpts in the book and additional passages that the authors point you to. It’s impossible to use this devotional well without having your Bible open alongside it, which is exactly how devotionals ought to work. Reading through Rooted in Hope, I found myself flipping to different passages, wanting to chew through the Word of God and enter more deeply into it. And on days when you might not want to take time to ruminate on the Scriptures, the text holds you accountable by inviting you to take notes on your lectio each day. It’s a gentle invitation (the editor explicitly tells you to be gentle with yourself, not to make this yet another task to accomplish, another reason to become discouraged when we fail), but one that beckons, if for no other reason than that it’s supremely unsatisfying to leave these pages blank.

Each week of the study has a different memory verse, urging us to make the Scripture a part of our daily lives. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to see Catholics being encouraged to memorize Scripture–as you know, this is something I find incredibly important. Each memory verse is written out in part in a beautiful font and the editor invites you to continue meditating on this verse throughout the week, even as you’re praying with different Scriptures each day.

I have to tell you, though, the thing that most struck me was how this devotional is written for every Catholic woman–not every married Catholic mom of little ones, as often seems the case, but every Catholic woman, whatever her vocation or stage of life. Different days focus on different issues, but the authors are so deliberate about including childless women that they even use the phrase “if there is a child in your life” rather than assuming that their readers all have children. The first time I read that, I gasped–it was such a gentle affirmation of my existence, something that often seems missing in ministries directed to Catholic women. But Take Up & Read (the ministry behind this devotional) seems particularly aware of the many ways women are told they aren’t enough, and the gentle tone that pervades this devotional is so encouraging that I would expect nothing less.

For the many Catholic women who do have children, there’s also a children’s study to go along with the adult study. There are questions for children to ponder, children’s lectio sheets, reflections to help them prepare for Mass, and even puzzles to keep them interested. And all that for free!

The study starts November 30 to help you prepare for Advent, then kicks into gear on the first Sunday of Advent. It’s got monthly and weekly planning calendars to help you plan around the liturgical celebrations. Honestly, it’s just a lovely book that I think will really help you enter into Advent and prepare for the coming of Christ–and with how short Advent is this year, we need all the help we can get!

I’m so convinced that this devotional will be a blessing to you that I’m going to give away a copy–it’s my first ever giveaway!1 So comment and share and all that and one lucky winner will get a free copy of this beautiful devotional. Enter by midnight Eastern this Sunday night and see if you win! For those who don’t, you can buy your copy here. Good luck!

Enter here to win!

(I got a free copy of the book to review, but believe me, the opinions are all mine.)

  1. Wish me luck–I don’t at all know how these things work. [↩]

What the Saints Did in the Face of Racism

This weekend a bunch of men (and some women) in polo shirts and khaki pants grabbed their tiki torches and showed their true colors to a world of white people who responded in stunned disbelief while people of color raised an eyebrow at how very shocked we all were. They flew swastikas and screamed hatred without even having the decency to hide behind hoods and masks and while there weren’t many there were far too many. And they were heavily armed, many of them, but unmolested by police, though it doesn’t take much research to see that other protestors aren’t accorded the same rights. And didn’t they go to middle school and read Anne Frank’s diary and don’t they know this wasn’t their land and can’t they see that nothing about what they’re doing is okay???

So we wring our hands and #Charlottesville because what do you say when people who look like you have gone absolutely crazy? Obviously you condemn it. Obviously. But these things keep happening and everybody knows racism is bad and I’m just so tired of it all.

We don’t get to be tired.

Or rather, if you’re tired, you get to push through. You get to nap and get up and keep going. You get to keep fighting this because if you’re reading this you’re likely white and so you have an obligation. We can talk some other time about the use of the word privilege, but right now I just need you to know that your privilege is a currency that you can spend on yourself or on others. If you have the ability to ignore this situation and you do, that is privilege spent on yourself. If you have the ability to ignore this situation and you choose instead to speak, to fight, to donate, to pray until your knees are bruised, that is privilege spent on the marginalized.

That’s what the Saints did.

We’re a 2,000-year-old Church with some Saints who were very much products of their time (not to mention the racist sinners who have often been the face of the Church), but we’ve also got Saints who poured their life’s blood out for the truth that racism is evil. We’ve got Saints who were prophets against slavery and Nazism, Saints who literally gave their lives to protest the filth being spewed by white supremacists in Charlottesville this weekend. So if you’re staring at your phone unsure what to do or say or retweet, maybe their witness will help.

St. Katharine Drexel gave up an enormous fortune and a brilliant future as a socialite to begin a religious order devoted to working with African-American and Native American children. She literally gave up everything–most especially the respect of her peers–in order to fight individual and institutional racism, taking a fourth vow “to be the mother and servant of the Indian and Negro races.” And she suffered for it, notably through the opposition of the Klan. Once members of the KKK threatened a white pastor at one of the churches where Drexel’s Sisters worked; the Sisters prayed, a tornado hit the Klan headquarters, and the cowards in white hoods kept their distance from the warriors clad in black.

  • Make a donation to a Cristo Rey school, a system of Jesuit high schools that work with largely minority populations to educate them and prepare them for the work force.
  • If you’re a teacher, consider working at a school that serves underprivileged minority students. If you’re a student, reach out to inner city summer programs and see if you can volunteer. (Try the Missionaries of Charity.)
  • Pray for the conversion of white supremacists (or, barring that, for the necessary acts of God).

St. Josephine Bakhita was kidnapped from her Sudanese village when she was about 7 years old and sold into slavery; she was so traumatized by the events that she forgot her own name and was called “Bakhita,” which means “lucky one,” by the slavers. She was beaten bloody and ritually scarred for years until she was sold to a “kind” Italian family of slave owners. Serving as their little daughter’s lady’s maid, she accompanied the little girl to a convent school, where she heard the Gospel for the first time and determined to be baptized. When the family returned and told her to go with them to Sudan, Bakhita refused. After nearly 15 years of doing everything she was told, she threw a metaphorical fist in the air and resisted, unwilling to leave the Sisters before being baptized. Eventually, the case went to court where a judge ruled that Bakhita (who had the support of the future Pope St. Pius X) had been free from the moment she arrived in Italy, establishing a precedent that not only was the slave trade illegal in Italy but also the possession of slaves. She went on to become a Canossian sister and at the end of her life declared that if she met her captors again she would kiss their feet because without their evil acts she would never have come to know Christ.

  • Contribute to a group that provides legal aid to the underprivileged.
  • Choose to forgive people whose racism has impacted you or those you love.

St. Peter Claver gave his whole life to serve slaves, calling himself “the slave of the Negroes forever.” Born in Spain, he became a Jesuit priest and spent 40 years in Colombia, where he would meet slave ships as they arrived from Africa and plunge into the hold with food, medicine, and the Sacrament of Baptism. He said, “We must speak to them with our hands before we try to speak to them with our lips,” and in so doing earned himself the right to preach of the gentle, loving Savior common to all men. He preached to Europeans as well, but avoided the hospitality of the slave owners whenever he could, preferring to sleep in the slaves’ quarters instead. He visited hospitals and prisons, making friends for God and securing the enmity of many who profited by the ignorance of their slaves. It’s said that he baptized nearly 300,000 people in his 40 years as a priest.

  • Consider the importance of corporal works of mercy as well as spiritual works. Feed hungry people.
  • Research the ways in which black people today are still suffering from cycles of poverty and incarceration that began with slavery. We are not saying this is your fault. But learning how people have suffered and continue to suffer can make us more compassionate.
  • Educate yourself on how human trafficking happens in this country and around the world. Do something about it.

Blessed Emilian Kovch is one of dozens of Saints killed for their opposition to Nazism. Some were killed simply for being Catholic, but many lost their lives specifically for fighting the racism of the Nazi regime. Fr. Kovch was a husband, a father of 6, and an Eastern Rite Catholic priest. He preached against anti-Semitism, stared down a mob of Nazis, and baptized Jews by the thousands in defiance of Nazi orders forbidding it. He was arrested and sent to a concentration camp, from which he wrote his family asking that they not seek his release as the prisoners had need of a priest. After celebrating Sacraments for a year in the camp, he died far from his family but surrounded by his children.

  • Consider marching in just protests (for example, counter-protests against guys with swastikas) and taking a much smaller risk than Bl. Emilian’s.
  • If you’re a priest or deacon, preach against racism. Somehow Christians have missed the message that you can’t be a follower of Jesus and a racist–fix that.
  • Use your privilege as currency, speaking up when you don’t have to about issues of race and injustice.

Venerable Henriette Delille could have passed. Her mother called herself white when asked by the census, as did her siblings. But Henriette wanted to show other free women of color that their lives didn’t have to be dictated by the racist system, that they could be black and truly free. While Henriette’s mother wanted her to live as the concubine of a rich white man, as she herself had done and as Henriette’s sister had as well, Henriette chose Christ. She began a religious order of women of color to serve the elderly. Though many Church and state officials opposed a religious order of African-American women, her small group of educated black women eventually became the Sisters of the Holy Family.

  • Talk about issues of race, both with people who are comfortable with the topic and with those who aren’t.
  • Attend Mass at an African-American or Filipino parish or go to the Spanish or Vietnamese or Portuguese Mass at your parish and get to know people who are different from you.

Servant of God Augustus Tolton was the first African-American Catholic priest to acknowledge his African heritage publicly. (The Healy brothers were mixed race and chose to live as white men.) Born a slave in 1854, Tolton and his family escaped to Illinois where he first began to discern a call to the priesthood, despite the racism he endured at the hands of white Catholics. But while his pastor supported his vocation, he was rejected by every American seminary because of his race. For years, Tolton persevered, waiting in hope that he would one day be permitted to serve at the altar. Finally, he was accepted at a seminary in Rome and prepared to serve in the African missions as the American bishops were quite sure that the American Church wasn’t ready for black priests. But Rome saw differently, and Fr. Augustus was sent first to Quincy, IL and then to Chicago where, despite constant struggles with prejudiced clergy and laity, he served his people tirelessly, dying of exhaustion at only 43.

  • Work to be welcoming of international priests serving in your parishes, getting to know them as individuals and encouraging other parishioners not to write them off because they’re “hard to understand.”
  • Learn about the history of racism in the American Catholic Church–and the issues we still deal with today.

Servant of God Bartolomé de las Casas worked for 50 years to end the enslavement of Native American peoples, advocating to the Spanish crown that they be permitted to rule themselves. Though he had been a slave owner himself, he was struck by the Christmas Eve sermon of Antonio de Montesinos, in which the good friar condemned the leading citizens of Santo Domingo:

You are in mortal sin, and live and die therein by reason of the cruelty and tyranny that you practice on these innocent people. Tell me, by what right or justice do you hold these Indians in such cruel and horrible slavery? By what right do you wage such detestable wars on these people who lived mildly and peacefully in their own lands, where you have consumed infinite numbers of them with unheard of murders and desolations? Why do you so greatly oppress and fatigue them, not giving them enough to eat or caring for them when they fall ill from excessive labors, so that they die or rather are slain by you, so that you may extract and acquire gold every day? And what care do you take that they receive religious instruction and come to know their God and creator, or that they be baptized, hear mass, or observe holidays and Sundays? Are they not men? Do they not have rational souls? Are you not bound to love them as you love yourselves? How can you lie in such profound and lethargic slumber? Be sure that in your present state you can no more be saved than the Moors or Turks who do not have and do not want the faith of Jesus Christ.

Las Casas, already a priest at the time, said hearing Montesinos was a pivotal point in his life and it sparked him on a course that made him the first great advocate of the rights of native peoples in the New World.

  • Interact with your elected officials in meaningful ways and help them see that there is no ethical or prudential justification for pandering to racists.
  • Have the courage to speak up when people make mildly–or appallingly–racist comments.

There are others, of course, other missionaries who valued the differences of those they served (St. Francis Xavier, much?), other priests who publicly decried racism (like St. Paul), other Sisters who served minorities (St. Theodore Guerin), other Saints of color who endured racism (Kibe). But here you have a start, a witness to the fact that Christians have to take a stand against racism in word and in deed. For many of us, the most we’ll suffer is discomfort. Not concentration camps or lynchings or death threats on social media. That is a privilege. Exercise your privilege by refusing to be silent.

 

(Here are 50 more suggestions of how to imitate the Saints in seeking to heal our divided nation. Please feel free to recommend more Saints in the comments.)

5 Things I Love More after 5 Years on the Road (And 5 Things I’m Over)

A month ago, I celebrated my 5th hoboversary. It’s become my habit to write each year around my anniversary with some reflections (Here’s year one, year two, year three, and year four) but this year I just didn’t have much to say–I know, it’s unusual. I thought about sharing lessons I’ve learned, but I’ve done that. I was tempted to list the things I don’t take for granted anymore (putting things in a drawer or having extras of something that you keep just in case) but it just sounded like a list of complaints.1 Maybe share a few stories? But I share them all on Facebook as they happen.  How about this: five things I love more than I did five years ago (and five I don’t).

LOVE:

The Saints. For all I talk about Saints, you’d think I’d been obsessed from childhood, but I wasn’t that into Saints until a few years ago. Then I read Modern Saints by Ann Ball (volumes 1 and 2) and began to realize that the Saints are more than cool, they’re amazing. And I read The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas and saw for the first time the incredible power of storytelling in the service of evangelization. So I started to get to know the Saints as they really were, not the dull, whitewashed stories we’re usually handed, and now I just can’t get over them. You’ve been following my Saint stories over on Aleteia, right?

Downtime. I’m really extroverted. I can stay up for 30 hours if there are people to chat with. When I drive I have to listen to narrative-driven audiobooks because that’s close enough to social interaction to keep me awake; if there are no characters, I have to pull over to take a nap. So when I started hoboing (by which I mean a life of constant small talk every moment of every day forever) I thought it was awesome. I chatted all day every day (driving and prayer time aside) for 18 months before it was too much. Then I took a day to myself and was ready for more friends. But that kind of thing begins to wear on you and these days, I’m thrilled when people tell me they’re going out for the afternoon or–miracle of miracles–putting me in a hotel. For Easter this year, a stranger offered me her house while her family was out of town and I’m pretty sure I cried. I’m still an extrovert, I’m just also a human being and human beings need some time alone.

Books. I wouldn’t have thought I could love books more, but since I started using a Kindle for the sake of travel and general hoboness, I’ve become even more aware of how wonderful it is to hold a book in your hands, to mark in the margins, to flip to a random point and find a spot you once loved. I’m grateful that I can take hundreds of books with me when I’m abroad for two months, but it sure makes me miss real books.

Instagram. Seriously, it’s the best social medium. No drama, just beauty and laughter and support. Plus, you don’t have to follow people back, so unlike Facebook (where my news feed is absolutely out of control) I only follow 22 people and it’s so manageable. And when I scroll through someone’s page, I don’t see controversial links or ugly formatting, just a glimpse of the beauty and struggle of their lives. Heart-eye emoji.

Being Known. It’s the desire of every human heart to love and be loved, to know and be known. When you spend your life with a constant stream of strangers (many of whom think they know you very well from your internet presence), you become very aware of how powerful it is to be known as you are, not just as you present yourself. One of the biggest ways this has been hitting me recently is in my constant battle to be called by my name. My name is Meg. It’s not Megan. It’s actually short for Margaret. It’s not Megan. At all. In any way. But several times a week, people call me Megan. Introduce me (on stage) as Megan. Advertise that Megan Kilmer is coming to speak. Hand me a name tag that says Megan. And I’m a ragey person with feelings that are far bigger than is healthy, so I correct gently while internally berating the entire world. It’s been happening even more recently, so I took it to prayer: “Lord, is this something I need to get over?” But names matter. And no, I shouldn’t be angry, but I don’t have to be okay with people calling me by the wrong name. Your name is your identity, it’s your self. When people confidently (and repeatedly) use the wrong name, they’re acting as though they know you while refusing to see you. I’m not accusing anybody of anything; I get that some people have memory issues or whatever. But when people know me–know my name, that I love lilacs, that I’m obsessed with Bl. Peter Kibe, that I loved country music in the 90s–I feel the gaze of the Father. I used to take that for granted.

DON’T:

Bananas. They’re disgusting. And I know, because I keep trying them. During the Triduum, I ate three and almost puked in my car. Please don’t feed me bananas.

Conflict. The trouble with being a public person, and especially a public person with an online presence, is that apparently you cease to be a person and are instead a target. People tend not to be terrible in person, though often enough they are.2 I know I should offer it up and rejoice to share in Christ’s sufferings and imitate the Lamb without blemish who opened not his mouth, but I just want to shred them. I’m too afraid of conflict, though, so instead I rehearse pithy responses in my head while saying nothing in actuality. Which is better than flying off the handle? But not much.

Talking about myself. Seriously. I used to joke that I didn’t need someone to introduce me–“I’ll talk about myself,” I’d say. “I’m my favorite topic.” But after 5 years of answering, “How did you decide to do this,” I’m over it. It’s all I can do to remind myself that repeating the answer to this question for the 3000th time is an act of charity. (But if you’re planning on having me to dinner, feel free to read the FAQ.)

Itinerancy. I do love seeing all of you, and if the time ever comes that I stop hoboing, I know I’ll miss having the freedom to spend time with everyone I love. But there’s a reason people live in a place, and for all it’s great to go all the places and do all the things, there’s a lot I would trade to be able to own clothes that don’t pack well and buy more chocolate than I can eat in one sitting.3

Twitter. I still don’t get it. There’s no room to say anything of substance and you can’t have real conversations because things get lost if you don’t tag stuff right. I’ll stick with Facebook, thanks.

I’m speaking all week at a big diocesan youth camp and thinking that one thing that hasn’t changed in 5 years is how much I love large groups and crowds of people to love. If you’ve got a conference or know someone who runs a conference (youth, women, men, everybody–I’m equal opportunity) and you’d like me to come, drop me a note. As of right now, everything in my life is a giant question mark once mid-August hits. We can add discernment and uncertainty to that list of things I don’t love more….

  1. And after the few nasty responses I got to the vulnerability in my Mother’s Day post, I didn’t want to risk dealing with the fallout. [↩]
  2. I’m looking at you, man who stood up, restated my explanation that confession in the early Church happened in public, then said, “INCORRECT!” while pointing your finger at me. I was less gentle in correcting him than I usually am. [↩]
  3. Everything melts. Everything. [↩]

Calling All Women Discerning Religious Life (Men, Too)

A few months ago, a friend from high school reached out to me wanting to hear about my discernment process from when I entered religious life. I was happy to discuss but surprised that she was asking, as she’s not a Christian. Discernment–particularly vocational discernment–is something that we usually talk about only with other Catholics. But I’m generally happy to discuss anything about Jesus, so I was game. It turns out that Eve is working on a piece for The Huffington Post investigating the way young Millennials discern. She’s a brilliant writer and a beautiful soul and I think her contribution to this conversation (especially when it’s published on a site like The Huffington Post) will be a gift to the Church. Here’s what Eve has to say:

I’m a Jewish-American writer based in Johannesburg, South Africa, who’s profoundly interested in the spiritual experience throughout history and how it occurs in an age many people think of as thoroughly secular, science-minded, data-driven, and beyond the reach of the mystical or necessitating the presence of faith. For a long essay I’m writing for The Huffington Post, I’m looking to talk with American women under the age of 25 in the process of discernment to enter the religious life. I’m interested in how you experienced your call, the tangible ways that changed how you interacted with the world (for instance, did you come to use Facebook differently? The push to have a good “career” differently? Did it change how you related to the uncertainty of the contemporary economy and the loneliness often present in contemporary friendships?). I’m deeply interested in the kinds of experiences of the modern world, and of God, that led a young woman to pursue a vocation. If you’d be willing to chat with me by phone, FaceTime, or Skype about your journey, please get in touch with me on Facebook. I’d ideally love to speak with women from a range of backgrounds, including families that were not religious or professed a different religion, and different parts of the country or economic backgrounds. We can speak casually first and then discuss if you’d like to be quoted by name in the story. While my interest is primarily in young women, I’d also REALLY love to talk to some young men discerning about the priesthood, too.

Here’s a brief example of my work. Among others, this piece, from an experiential point of view, argues hard against the modern conception that we are the best, or real, architects of our own lives.

If you’re interested in speaking to Eve, leave a comment here (anonymous or not) or send me a message and I’ll put you two in touch. Please DON’T tag a friend or share it to her Facebook wall–her discernment might not be something she’s ready to be public about. Send it in a private message and she can contact me herself. I know that Eve is particularly interested in speaking with a diverse group of young people discerning with traditional communities, especially people from non-religious families, people of color, immigrants, and the very poor and very wealthy. She’s come to the right Church, hasn’t she? You’ve never met a body more diverse than the Catholic Church, and I’d love to help her write a piece that shows how the love of Christ breaks down all the divisions we erect between ourselves to call hearts to deep holiness and deep joy. Plus she’s offered to let me look it over before publication to make sure the theology’s on point, so you don’t have to worry about the Church being misrepresented. What a great opportunity to witness to the Love of Christ that invites us to be completely his! Who’s in?