Category: Goodness

On Four-Year-Olds and Pharisees

My four-year-old nephew loves to pray. Seriously, when I talk about that kid, I feel like I’m reciting one of those ridiculous medieval hagiographies that tell you how the blessed child refused the breast on fast days. But John Paul is a little bit of a robot and his lifelong obsession has been all things Catholic. I’m more than a little proud, of course, but also rather bewildered when he wants to pray all the time. On Sunday, he went to Mass, prayed morning prayer, read the Bible all during his “nap,” prayed a whole rosary, prayed evening prayer and the office of readings, did his Saint Andrew novena, and his Magnifikid morning and evening prayer. I’m pretty sure he spent more time praying than I did.

On a given day, it’s not unusual to hear the following lines out of this strange kid’s mouth:

  • Just a little light reading before bed.
    Just a little light reading before bed.

    “No, don’t just pray one decade. We want to do ALL the mysteries!”

  • “Oh, I’m Jesus! I’m walking on water! Now I’m TURNING WATER INTO WINE!!”
  • “For my naptime story, I would like Isaiah chapter 41.”
  • “May I please take the Bible to bed with me?”
  • “No, Mom, don’t turn off the light! Wait till I finish Proverbs!!”
  • “No, Cecilia, you can’t be Ruth!  We’re playing Pentateuch!  Ruth is a Historical Book!!!“
  • “My favorite confirmation Saint is Saint Caius. He was a pope and martyr.”
  • “Oh, could we please play the martyrdom of St. Ignatius of Antioch? And then we can play my canonization party!”

Really. All in one day. He doesn’t sound real.

So you’d think, given how much he prays, that he’d be less…well…awful. I mean, I know he’s four and life is just hard. I don’t fault him for tantrums over toys and television. What gets me are the tantrums he throws while praying. Yes, while praying. Not, of course, because he doesn’t want to pray. Because he wants to do it his way.

This week, we’ve prayed morning and evening prayer together every day. His idea. And while he’s been praying the Office with me since he was only just three (I’m telling you, he’s not real!), suddenly he can’t do it right. No, it’s not that he can’t do it right. He just won’t.

"We're traveling to Bethlehem!" Riding a leopard. Pregnant with a baby doll. Maybe that's from the Gospel of Thomas. Note John Paul's outfit: a purple "dalmatic" which was our compromise when he screamed and screamed "I want a chasuble now! I want a chasuble today!!"
“We’re traveling to Bethlehem!” Riding a leopard. Pregnant with a baby doll. Maybe that’s from the Gospel of Thomas. Note John Paul’s outfit: a purple “dalmatic” which was our compromise when he screamed and screamed “I want a chasuble now! I want a chasuble today!!”

He insists on praying the Magnificat during morning prayer or he screams “NOOOO” when I read my part (because he wanted to read it) or he starts whining about praying daytime prayer before we’re halfway through morning prayer. I’m mostly happy to ignore or to allow just to keep the peace, but he doesn’t want to keep the peace. So he keeps pushing and pushing–grabbing the breviary, starting a hymn in the middle of a canticle, insisting on starting the whole psalm over so he can be side A–until he feels justified in throwing a tantrum. While praying. Over whether or not to read the italicized text or how to pronounce a word.

No joke, I’ve had to interrupt our prayer to talk about not screaming and punching during the Office every day this week. The other day he kicked me (softly, because the sweet thing is gentle even when he’s enraged) for having the audacity to finish the concluding prayer. Last night he head-butted me in the face (again, so gently it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it’s the intention we’re concerned about) because I folded the novena pamphlet to read the back instead of turning the whole thing around.

Basically, despite all this time in prayer, he’s obsessed with himself and getting his own way. But you know what? He has an excuse. He’s four.

What’s my excuse?

Because I do the same thing. I do good things but I’m so consumed with doing them the “right” way that I end up doing more harm than good. I get so frustrated at liturgical abuses that I make the Mass about me–my desires for good liturgy–instead of about Christ. I’m so intent on orthodoxy that I forget compassion. I turn everything into evidence to support my ideology or an opportunity to feel persecuted. I do acts of charity and vilify those who work with other populations. I do good for my own ends–either to be impressive in the eyes of men or just to show off to God.1

James Tissot: The Pharisee and the Publican
James Tissot: The Pharisee and the Publican

You see, I’m a Pharisee. The problem with the Pharisees wasn’t that they wanted to follow the rules. Their problem (okay, one of their many) was that they had to be right. They had to have their own way–they were fine with it being the Law’s way as long as they had chosen it. And anyone who wasn’t doing things their way was wrong. And bad. And deserved to be crucified.

There wasn’t anything wrong with following the Law. God gave it to them, after all. And there’s nothing wrong with living the liturgical year or admonishing sinners or spreading the Gospel or feeding the hungry. But if you’re anything like me, it’s not always about love of God and love of neighbor. Often it’s just self-love–if you can call it love at all.

Pope Francis described one manifestation of this pride motivating good works in his recent apostolic exhortation:

“A supposed soundness of doctrine or discipline leads instead to a narcissistic and authoritarian elitism, whereby instead of evangelizing, one analyzes and classifies others, and instead of opening the door to grace, one exhausts his or her energies in inspecting and verifying.” (Evangelii Gaudium 94)

Our desire to be faithful can be distorted–as can our desires for social justice, transcendent liturgy, compassion, and all things true, good, and beautiful–when we, like the Pharisees, act out of self-love instead of love of God.

Satan’s a clever one. And when you start doing good, he can work with that. He can take your good intentions and twist them so you start resenting people who interrupt your prayer or judging people who serve differently. I think this is particularly dangerous during Advent–we start out buying gifts to please people and end up getting mad at people in the mall or the people we’re shopping for or the whole internet because things aren’t going the way we want them to. We decide to have a quiet, prayerful Advent and want to smack the sweet carolers we pass on the street corner. We go to confession so we can feel superior. We mean so well but it’s so easy to get caught up in ourselves and forget love of God and love of neighbor: the reason for the season, yes, but also the reason for everything.

God saw this in our little fallen hearts, this self-obsession, and knew that redemption alone wouldn’t be enough. Even brought back to him, we would still be so tempted to curve in on ourselves, so painfully inclined to make even selfless acts selfish. So he came down to show us what humanity was made to look like. He became man in an act of complete selflessness. The world actually does revolve around him and yet he lived as though he was nothing.

Via Maria Pureza Escano.
St. Anne and the Young Mary, by Maria Pureza Escano.

This humility begins at the Annunciation: the God whom heaven and earth adore chose to be conceived under shadow of scandal, most likely rejected by friends and family before he was even born. He was laid in a feed trough, worshiped by outcasts, and chased into exile. Each moment was a gift, each instance of pain or persecution accepted purely out of love.

Jesus didn’t use people. He didn’t heal them only to make a point–it was always about them. His conversations teach us something, yes, but they spoke far more deeply to the hearts of those he encountered. The one man in all of history who deserved to be wrapped up in himself quite simply wasn’t. When he spoke about himself–he who is the meaning of life–he was always leading us back to the Father, giving himself in love.

The reason the Gospels are so compelling even to those who don’t believe in the God they describe is that Jesus lived as we were made to: his entire life was about others. All the healings and the preaching and even the resurrection would have meant nothing if they hadn’t been selfless. If Jesus had preached to gain fame or worked miracles to demonstrate his superiority, he would have been a sham and a failure.2

Are you?

It’s a harsh question, I know. I ask it because I’m asking myself. How many of my “good works” are done out of honest love of God and man and how many are done out of pride or veiled selfishness?

John Paul is a fantastic kid, but his piety doesn’t necessarily correlate to holiness.3 I wonder how many of us are living lives of empty piety or charity. Oh, it’s better than giving up and embracing our baser inclinations. But is it everything the Lord is asking of us, this God who desires obedience rather than sacrifice? Is it really his will or have we canonized our own desires?

This nativity scene at Franciscan University has a cross as its focal point. It's all one mystery.
This nativity scene at Franciscan has a cross as its focal point. It’s all one mystery.

We don’t worship a God who merely loves. We worship a God who is love. God in his very essence is self-gift and while that’s supremely true in the dance of love that is the Trinity, it’s nowhere more obvious than in the Incarnation, the ultimate act of love that encompasses all the discomfort and tedium and ignominy and rejection and failure and suffering and death that God willingly embraced for us. Our God gave himself in love every moment of every day–and continues to do so in the Eucharist–that we might be strengthened to do the same.

So can I issue a challenge in the midst of all your shopping and creating and praying and practicing? Could you take a minute to ask yourself why you’re doing what you’re doing? Are you writing or decorating or speaking out of a desire to be more like that fragile God in swaddling clothes? If not, don’t quit necessarily. Just recognize it, repent, and ask for the grace to love. God became weak–there’s no shame in weakness. But a failure to love: that’s true failure.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Cor 13:1-3)

  1. 15 years ago I did a minor good deed and didn’t tell anyone about it. I’m still proud of myself for that. [↩]
  2. And not God…. [↩]
  3. It doesn’t need to. He’s awesome. I’m just making a point. [↩]

100 Ways to Be a Missionary Without Leaving Your Home Town

After last week’s post on how every Christian is called to be a missionary, my friend Jenna asked me to get specific. What does it mean to be a missionary in everyday life? So I started brainstorming and here’s what I came up with: 100 ways to evangelize right where you are. While missionaries aren’t just evangelists, I feel like I pretty well covered the service and justice aspect of Christianity in the pro-life post. So I’m sticking primarily with things that are more directly about preaching the Gospel, but all those pro-life practices are ways to be a missionary too.

Not all of these tips will work for all of you. Some types of evangelization take a certain personality. Some will be helpful only with particular individuals (37, 45, 74) while others are more universally applicable (12, 68, 72). Remember: nobody is a project. Treat every person as a child of God, never as the object of a strategy, and you’ll be off to a good start.

100 ways to be a missionary

  1. Fall in love with Jesus.
  2. Take your children to daily Mass.
  3. Offer to help someone with small children at Mass.
  4. Pray before you eat–especially in public.
  5. Blog about your faith.
  6. Sponsor a child and write her letters.
  7. Adopt a child.
  8. Invite someone to go to confession with you–offer to take him to dinner afterwards to sweeten the deal.
  9. Read the Catechism. The whole thing.
  10. Take your baby to visit the residents at a nursing home.
  11. Sign up for a holy hour in the middle of your prime social time. Then when you leave the bar or the football game to head off to pray, invite people to join you. You’ll be amazed what happens.
  12. Call someone who’s hurting.
  13. Take a picnic lunch to an area with a large homeless population.
  14. Santa Monica evangelizationDo some street evangelization.
  15. Invite your priest over for dinner. Community strengthens them for their ministry.
  16. Celebrate your kids’ feast days and baptismal anniversaries. Make their memories of being Catholic joyful celebrations.
  17. Share a Bible verse on Twitter.
  18. Have your wedding in a beautiful Church with incredible, transcendent music. Your non-Catholic guests will be struck by a stunning liturgy.1
  19. Get a Christian tattoo that isn’t ugly or weird.
  20. Invite college students living far from home to spend Sunday dinner with your family.
  21. Start a Bible study at Starbucks.
  22. Abstain from meat on Fridays (you have to fast in some way anyway) and don’t be afraid to mention it when people are picking a restaurant.
  23. Ask your brother why he stopped going to Church.
  24. Beg for grace.
  25. Tell your coworker about God.
  26. “Do it with gentleness and reverence.”2
  27. Help at youth group.
  28. Be a brilliant scientist.
  29. Don’t respond to suffering with platitudes.
  30. Do your daily Bible reading on your commute. It gives your neighbor an opportunity to ask.
  31. beggar NilesWhen catching up with a friend, ask “How can I pray for you?”
  32. Step outside your comfort zone.
  33. Dress as a Saint for Halloween, but don’t be lame about it. Kendra will show you how.3
  34. Listen to your children.
  35. Smile more.
  36. Cross yourself when you pass a church.
  37. If you know someone who’s sitting on the fence, be frank. Ask them if you can have 15 minutes to present a case for the Church.
  38. Don’t be afraid to say you don’t know.
  39. Bake cookies for prisoners.
  40. Pay the toll for the person behind you. Ask the toll booth attendant to tell him you said, “Have a blessed day.”
  41. Offer to go door to door inviting people to church.
  42. Wear a beautiful piece of religious jewelry. When people compliment you on it, take it as an invitation to give a quick testimony.
  43. Tell people about the Saint of the day.
  44. Weep with those who weep.
  45. Take a friend to an art museum. Hit up the Renaissance section and explain what’s going on with all the Saints and Bible scenes. Think of all the catechesis!
  46. Call a friend out on unchristian behavior.
  47. Go to confession.
  48. Introduce yourself to people you see at church.
  49. Learn to pray extemporaneously.
  50. Invite a fellow parishioner to dinner.
  51. When a friend is suffering, have a Mass said for him.
  52. Change your language–say “God bless you” instead of “Bless you,” “Praise God” instead of “Thank God.” See if it doesn’t start some interesting conversations.
  53. Don’t judge.
  54. Captain of Team CatholicDon’t take yourself too seriously.
  55. Read Catechism 2125.4 Don’t be a jerk.
  56. Fast and pray for missionaries.
  57. Buy a dozen copies of your favorite Christian book. (I recommend these novels, these books on apologetics, and these spirituality books.) Give them away.
  58. Invite someone to Mass.
  59. “Never let evil talk pass your lips; say only the good things men need to hear, things that will really help them.”5
  60. Dress modestly but look awesome.
  61. Have friends who aren’t Christian. Don’t try to convert them. Just love them.
  62. Make beautiful Christian art–poetry, photography, music, sculpture. Give glory to God and draw hearts to him.
  63. Never use apologetics as a weapon. If you get angry, take a step back.
  64. Ask someone to pray for you–even if she’s not the type who would offer.
  65. When you receive communion, act like you really believe, like you’re really in love. Your attitude will touch people around you and you’ll find your faith strengthened. It’s more about living what you believe even when you don’t feel it than it is about faking it, and the more you live it, the more you’ll feel it.
  66. Take a friend out for a beer. Hang out. Just be friends.
  67. Bear wrongs patiently.
  68. Ask people’s forgiveness.
  69. When you find yourself judging someone for not being Christian/Catholic or not being a “good” Christian/Catholic, make a list of five things about that person that make her a better person than you.
  70. Remember that you can’t know the state of anyone’s soul.6
  71. Have friends over for a movie night, but show Bella or For Greater Glory.
  72. “Live a life of such love so as to be a reason to believe.”7
  73. Give your godchildren (and nieces and nephews and young friends) good Christian books.8
  74. Give away CDs by your favorite Christian artists–I recommend Danielle Rose and Jimmy Needham.
  75. Be completely present to everyone who’s talking to you.
  76. Memorize Bible verses about God’s mercy and love.9
  77. Volunteer to be an RCIA sponsor.
  78. Catholic parenting: you're doing it right.
    Catholic parenting: you’re doing it right.

    Tell your kids stories about the Saints–find real heroes to be their role models, not that Disney nonsense.

  79. Love people where they are.
  80. Put beautiful sacred art up in your house.
  81. Put beautiful secular art up in your house. Listen to good secular music, read good secular fiction. In the world but not of it, friends.
  82. Study philosophy.
  83. Share powerful Christian articles on Facebook. Don’t share lame or cheesy stuff.
  84. Be a sponsor couple for marriage prep.
  85. Do things you don’t expect to like to show people you’re willing to be open-minded too.
  86. Donate to a Catholic Campus Ministry program–they do some incredible things.
  87. When bringing non-Catholics to Mass, explain to them beforehand why they can’t receive. Be delicate.
  88. Refuse to let awkwardness stand in your way.
  89. Don’t act like your life is perfect with Christ–be real about your struggles.
  90. Be real about the joy too.
  91. Talk as much about Jesus as you do about your favorite team or band.
  92. Take a family rosary walk around the neighborhood on Sunday evenings. Evangelize your kids and your neighbors at the same time.
  93. Start a real hospitality ministry at your parish–have small dinner parties that you invite new parishioners to and build some real community.
  94. It’s easy sometimes to win an argument and lose a soul. Don’t be afraid to back down when it becomes more about winning and less about truth and love.
  95. Don’t be a hypocrite.
  96. Pray for non-believers.
  97. Pray more than you talk.
  98. Ask the Holy Spirit to work in you.
  99. Remember that you don’t have all the answers.
  100. Pray, love, then get out of the way.

Announce the Gospel

  1. My friend Beth recently did this and I bet you there are people whose trip across the Tiber started that day. [↩]
  2. 1 Pt 3:16 [↩]
  3. Fun fact: I was about to write pretty much that exact blog post with ways to dress as a Saint but be awesome about it–you know, St. Peter Martyr with a hatchet in his head, a Holy Soul with flames licking at your feet, mummy/Lazarus, a princess, a knight, St. Lucy with your eyes gouged out. But then I googled to see if there was a picture online of anybody ever dressed as St. Denis (carrying your mitred head under your arm–awesome!!) and I found that Kendra had done it dramatically better than I was going to. [↩]
  4. Believers can have more than a little to do with the rise of atheism. To the extent that they are careless about their instruction in the faith, or present its teaching falsely, or even fail in their religious, moral, or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than to reveal the true nature of God and of religion. [↩]
  5. Eph 4:29 [↩]
  6. CCC 847: This affirmation is not aimed at those who, through no fault of their own, do not know Christ and his Church: Those who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience—those too may achieve eternal salvation. [↩]
  7. Danielle Rose lyrics. [↩]
  8. Want to see what I get my godchildren? Check out my Pinterest board, but be aware that my oldest godchild is six…. [↩]
  9. Mt 11:28-30, Jn 16:33, Sgs 4:7, Is 49:13-16, Rom 5:8, John 14:18…. [↩]

So You Want to Be a Missionary? Well, Good. Because You Already Are.

Not long after my conversion, I decided that the only reasonable thing to do with my life was to be a missionary.1 After all, I thought, if Jesus is God, why would I not want to spend the rest of my life telling other people about it? So I (at the ripe old age of 14) formulated my first life plan: be a missionary in the Ivory Coast.2 I had a glamorous image of being called by God to preach the Gospel, being sent to a far-off land where I’d suffer for him. Probably someone was going to make a movie out of my life, it was going to be that cool.

And then life happened, and I was on plan number two: teach high school religion. But I was still called, still preaching, still sent, and certainly still suffering. I began to see that God had called me to be a missionary, just in Georgia instead of Africa.

Not the far-off land I was anticipating....
Not the far-off land I was anticipating….

Now when people ask me what I do (or where I live or why I’m in town or how I know their brother), I answer that I’m a missionary. And people accept it because I’m doing something weird and preachy that doesn’t make much money. But when Family Missions Company asked me to blog for World Mission Sunday3 about my life as a missionary and all I could think was: so are you.4

Sure, I’m a missionary now. I wander from town to town speaking of the love of God, never knowing what consolation or persecution tomorrow will bring. But I was a missionary when I was a teacher and when I was a nanny and when I was a student. And I’ll be a missionary if I work retail or answer phones or stay at home. If you’re a Christian, you’re a missionary. It’s part of the job description. The question isn’t if you’re going to be a missionary–it’s for whom. Because either you’re preaching the Gospel of Christ or you’re slapping the name Christian on some other gospel. And any other gospel masquerading as Christianity comes from the Evil One.5 Choose today whom you will serve.6

You’ve already been called.

Teresa Avila Christ has no bodyOn the day you were baptized, you were commissioned. You were anointed as a prophet and sent out to make disciples of all nations.7 There’s no such thing as an armchair Christian. You are the salt of the earth, the light of the world.8 You are the body of Christ9 sent to feed and clothe and teach and love.10

But really, if you believe that Christianity is true, why wouldn’t you want to share it? Are you so obsessed with your own comfort, so afraid of rejection that you’re willing to withhold the love of Christ from hungry souls? Are you so impressed by your own inadequacy that you believe God can’t use you? This is joy and beauty and true love and we’re afraid to lead people to the water because they might be annoyed that we offered them a drink. The missionary vocation isn’t for the chosen few–it’s for every Christian there has ever been. It’s for people who don’t know a lick of theology, people who aren’t comfortable praying out loud, people who are timid or selfish or lazy or awkward. It’s for you. Do something about it.

You’re already preaching the gospel.

If you claim the name of Christian, you’re preaching. Your life speaks volumes to the people around you. It proclaims the message of your gospel: “There is joy in Christ” or “Those who love the Lord serve” or “No sinners allowed” or “Money is all you need” or “Fill your life with noise and you never have to be alone.” They watch you and listen to you and come away thinking that “Christians do that/say that/think that” or “The Church believes that.”

Your life preaches a gospel–it just might not preach the Gospel. Take a look at your life today from an outsider’s perspective and ask yourself a few things: What do my choices tell people that I value most? If I had a catch phrase, what would it be? Do people hear Christ when they listen to me? If my life were the only Gospel people read, would they want him? If you’re a missionary, you’d better know for damn sure what gospel you’re preaching. I think a lot of us Christians are preaching the world with a little Jesus thrown in. Check yourself.

You’re already sent to all nations.

Most of you encounter people of different races and nationalities every day. You’re sent to all of them. Not just the ones who look like you. Not just the ones who speak your language. Not just the ones of your class or your creed. You’re sent to that cashier with the unpronounceable name, to the beggar with the pack of cigarettes, to the neighbor with the accent and “too many” kids. Jesus didn’t pick and choose. He came to Pharisees and Samaritans, to Marthas and Magdalenes, to the blind and the lame and the whole and the broken. You’re sent to everyone, too.

Oh, you might never leave small town Nebraska. You might never see someone who’s not from your home country. You, too, are sent to all nations. You’re sent to the poor and the rich, to atheists and fundamentalists, to saints and sinners. You don’t get to keep the Gospel to yourself. You have to live it–to love every person. Every person. Even the addict. Even the immigrant. Even the lazy. Even your father, no matter what he did. Even your teenager. Even when he calls you that. Every person.

And friend, you’re a missionary. You might primarily be called to preach with your actions, but sometimes you’ve got to use words. Sometimes you have to put a stop to that catty conversation at Thanksgiving dinner. Sometimes you have to offer to pray for someone who’ll sneer at the thought. Sometimes you have to go out on a limb and straight up preach the Gospel to a disbelieving audience. Because you’re a missionary. And God will do incredible things even through your weak words.

You’re already suffering.

I always figured what made missionaries so awesome was how they suffered. But it wasn’t the spectacular suffering that impressed me. Oh, don’t get me wrong–I love a good martyrdom story. And I know better than to think it’s easy; while I do want to be martyred, I’m hoping for a quick bullet to the head, not being skinned alive or having my fingers bitten off. That’s some incredible stuff. But heroic endurance in moments of terror is obviously a supernatural gift. I trust that God will provide. It’s the everyday that gets me. The dirt floors, the well out back, the heat, the terrifying bugs. That’s what makes a missionary’s life so hard. That’s what makes them such heroes: persevering through constant suffering without even the satisfaction of righteous anger. After all, who are you going to blame for the monsoons?

Okay, yeah, sometimes being a missionary looks like this.
Okay, yeah, sometimes being a missionary looks like this.

You’re suffering like that, too. Oh, they might be #firstworldproblems. And they might not exactly be because of the Gospel. But if you’re serious about your faith, there are inconveniences you endure that you wouldn’t otherwise have to. Maybe it’s just missing some football because you’re going to Mass. Or not having enough money for a grand vacation because you have four children instead. Maybe it’s not getting enough sleep because you’re trying to prioritize prayer. Maybe you could look hotter if you showed more skin. There are sacrifices you make for the Gospel–Christ honors those just as much as he does the impressive poverty of the foreign missionary.

And if you’re doing it right, you’re probably being persecuted. You may not have scars from it–not physical ones, anyway–but you get nasty Facebook comments, rolled eyes, accusations of hypocrisy, and cooled friendships. When you speak truth, the world will retaliate. And when you do it well, Satan will do his best to discourage you. Maybe Butler won’t write about all you endured, but it gives glory to God all the same.

If you have the courage of your convictions, you might lose a job. Or a friend. Or a marriage. You might lose social standing, like Elizabeth Ann Seton and John Henry Newman. Or you might lose your life, like countless others in the annals of our Church. But you will gain the world.

 

Yes, I asked the guy at the coffee shop if I could take a picture of his tattoo. Yes, I asked him if he would be my best friend. Can we all stop being so judgey and start wondering if he has a girlfriend and if not who we should set him up with?
Yes, I asked the guy at the coffee shop if I could take a picture of his tattoo. Yes, I asked him if he would be my best friend. Can we all stop being so judgey and start wondering if he has a girlfriend and if not who we should set him up with?

So stop hiding your lamp under a bushel basket. Stop waiting around until you can be a missionary, and go be one! Invite someone to Mass, pray before you eat, take your baby to a nursing home, make a holy hour, call someone who’s hurting, take a homeless man to lunch, do some street evangelization, share a Bible verse on Twitter, flip over the scandalous magazines in the grocery store, get a Christian tattoo that isn’t ugly or weird, start a Bible study at Starbucks, ask your brother why he stopped going to Church, tell your coworker about God, help at youth group, listen to your children, smile more, bake cookies for prisoners, offer to go door to door inviting people to church, help a little old lady across a street,11 tell people about the Saint of the day, call a friend out on unchristian behavior, go to confession yourself, listen to the Holy Spirit, pray, love, live for Christ.

When it comes down to it, life in the mission fields is made up of moments. Each moment might be ordinary but they can add up to an extraordinary life. You don’t have to do anything spectacular to be a missionary. You just have to remember that you already are and try to act like it.

  1. Interesting side note: I’m pretty sure the very first talk I ever gave was on being a missionary. [↩]
  2. In case you’re keeping track: I’m one Sacrament, one continent, and four babies behind on this plan. This may be why I’ve given up on planning. [↩]
  3. That’s today! Well, to my mind it’s tomorrow. But that’s just because I should have written this weeks ago and instead I’m writing it at 2am. Win. [↩]
  4. And then I went back and realized that that was actually what they asked me to do, so…great minds think alike? Anyway, I wasn’t being disingenuous here. Just had a bad memory and not enough time or inspiration to rewrite. [↩]
  5. Before you start quoting Nostra Aetate at me, I’m talking about watered-down Christianity or secular humanism or materialism or other things that Christians might be preaching with their lives. [↩]
  6. Jos 24:15 [↩]
  7. Mt 28:19 [↩]
  8. Mt 5:13-16 [↩]
  9. 1 Cor 12:27 [↩]
  10. Mt 25 [↩]
  11. I actually saw a young man–in sagging jeans and a hoodie–doing this the other day and I almost died of how cute it was. [↩]

How to Stay Chaste: 10 Tips for Couples

It’s all well and good for a single gal to tell y’all to be good, but when you’re really in love things can get hard. After last week’s post on chastity, some of you might be wondering how on earth people do it. From what I’ve gathered, it generally involves more than just a strong will; it involves prayer and guidelines and communication and mercy. So for those of you who are in a relationship and struggling–or who aren’t in a relationship but are still struggling or who aren’t either but expect one day to be–here are some tips on pursuing chastity when love and chemistry seem to be conspiring against your better judgment.

Source.
Source.
  1. Be committed. Know who you are and whose you are. Know why chastity matters. Then make a commitment–to God, to yourself, and to each other–that you will strive for chastity. If you’re halfhearted, your resolve won’t last long. And if you’re not on the same page, it’ll be very, very difficult. But if you’re both serious about being holy and keeping your relationship pure, you have a real shot.
  2. Pray for each other. The purpose of dating is to discern marriage; the purpose of marriage is to get each other to heaven. If you’re not praying avidly for your partner’s sanctification, what are you doing? Pray for your own chastity, of course, but pray for your partner’s even more. It’s easier, I think, to be willing to compromise your own salvation in the heat of the moment than to endanger the soul of someone you love and for whom you pray daily. Making little sacrifices and offering them for your partner’s chastity will keep this at the forefront of your mind–and probably bring that desire to mind when other desires threaten to push it aside.
  3. Farm tools optional.
    Farm tools optional.

    Pray with each other. If you’re praying together for purity, you begin to see each other in a more sanctified light. Try beginning each date with Mass or a rosary before the Blessed Sacrament. It sets the tone for the evening and strengthens you against temptation. If it’s possible, end each date in the chapel. If you’re planning to stop in to see Jesus before you say goodnight (or if you’re dropping her off after having done so), it’s harder to transgress those boundaries.

  4. Fast. I’ve said it before: I don’t know how people can be chaste if they don’t fast. Not only does it strengthen your prayer, it gives you mastery over your body. The more you’re able to deny your body what it needs, the more you’re able to deny it what it wants. If you’re really struggling with chastity, I’d recommend picking one day a week1 to skip a meal or two. Fast (to the point of being hungry), learn some self-control, and ask the Lord to strengthen your love of purity.
  5. Rodin's The Kiss. Too far.
    Rodin’s The Kiss. Too far.

    Set boundaries. “We’re not going to have sex” is a great start, but there’s more to chastity than just avoiding intercourse before marriage. Sit down early in the relationship and discuss what you think is appropriate in different stages in your relationship. It strikes me as fairly obvious that touching things you don’t have (pause to make sure everyone’s grasping my euphemism) is reserved for marriage. But maybe you’re like me and you think “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do with your grandma looking on” is a good rule of thumb. Or maybe you don’t want to kiss before you’re engaged. Maybe you want to talk about how many feet should be on the floor when you’re cuddling. Try not to be too legalistic, but do be aware that there’s more to chastity than sex. If you’re not comfortable having this conversation with your partner, you might want to reconsider either this relationship or your readiness to be in a relationship. It might be awkward but it’s important enough to endure.

  6. Be intentional about being alone. There’s a reason the Church talks so much about the “near occasion of sin.” Even if you’ve got the self control of a saint, sleeping in the same bed is a bad idea before you’re married.2 In less extreme situations, standards are going to differ dramatically. The more you’ve fallen in the area of sexual sin in the past, the more careful you’ll have to be. I know some people who have to be sure never to be alone with their significant others. They spend time in parks and coffee shops and movie theaters but never just the two of them in someone’s apartment; they know themselves. You might be able to handle some alone time but need to have the possibility of a roommate walking in at any moment to keep things PG–know yourself and do what you have to.
  7. Be accountable to someone.  If you’ve got a roommate, give her permission to ask how your date went–and promise to tell her, down to the last detail. Ask your buddy to call you Saturday morning and ask if you were good the night before. Heck, give me your number and I’ll text you at midnight to make sure everything’s still holy.3 We can’t do it alone and a real community could be just what you need.
  8. Dress chastely. I’m looking mostly at you ladies here. Your bodies are lovely and there’s nothing dirty or wrong about them. But they were made to be given only to the body–and the eyes–of your husband. Even if you’re not willing to dress chastely for the myriad men in your life who are trying desperately to see you as a person and not an object, do it for the one man you love. If you’re dressed like you’re wearing clothes, not underwear4, then he’ll have less trouble not thinking about removing said clothes.
  9. Be chaste alone. The solution to temptation is not to indulge that temptation in another venue. Using pornography and masturbating don’t release sexual tension, they distort it and cause it to grow. Pornography is also as addictive as crack and has serious consequences on more than just your love life. Here are some tips on leaving pornography behind. Do it now.
  10. Repent. You’re going to fall. Don’t give up! Get up, get to confession, and redouble your effort. Reconsider your relationship and the rules you’ve set for yourself. Talk to a trusted friend. Cry and pout and punch a wall but do NOT give up. It’s a hard road, but remember that you follow a God who fell three times under the cross. He knew you would fall. He forgives you. He wants you to try again.

Every relationship is different which is why these are more broad guidelines than hard-and-fast rules. What seems to be universal is the fact that people don’t stumble into chastity–they work for it. It’s not just about rules, it’s about building your relationship with Christ first and foremost; purity is just a means to that end. And if we’re not just talking about abstinence but about glory and virtue and true love and a real, eternal happily-ever-after, nothing should stand in our way.

It’s hard. It’s worth it. Be strong when you can and when you’re weak, let Christ be strong for you.

  1. Friday would be ideal: all Catholics are required to perform some act of penance every Friday (per the Code of Canon Law). The U.S. Bishops recommend abstaining from meat. [↩]
  2. For a number of reasons. It might not be sex, but it’s certainly intimacy. [↩]
  3. Limited offer and bear in mind that a lot of the time I don’t have service, so…maybe make a new friend at church. [↩]
  4. You know what I mean–sheer shirts, short shorts, leggings that you’re pretending are pants…. [↩]

You Will Get Pregnant and Die: 4 Better Reasons to Wait

It’s not hard to make an argument for chastity. After all, STDs are terrifying and unplanned pregnancies aren’t ideal. And there are the statistics that show increased depression in sexually active teens and increased rates of divorce among those who had multiple sexual partners. But if you’ve ever been in love, you know that scare tactics won’t work. “It won’t happen to us,” you think, and rightly so. You ought to be so deeply in love that you think nothing can go wrong. That’s a good thing—at the beginning. But it means that our explanation of the importance of chastity has to be more than cherry-picked statistics intended to terrify teens into super-gluing their pants on.

Pregnant and dieI spoke with a young friend recently who is really struggling with chastity. She and her boyfriend are in love and in a committed relationship. They’re both strong Catholics who know that it’s wrong to sleep together outside of marriage, but she wanted a little more of the why. Now bear in mind that these arguments aren’t directed at the unchurched but at those who are really striving to do God’s will. If you’re not coming at them from that perspective, they might not be terribly compelling. But for those of us who are seeking chastity not just to avoid dying of a terrible venereal disease and going to hell but in order to glorify God, I think they might help.1

1. Sex renews the covenant of marriage. Sex isn’t just fun—although I’m told it is that. Sex is the sign of the covenant of marriage. Every covenant2 is renewed by a repeated action, an action that reminds each party of their commitment, an action by which they recommit themselves. In God’s covenant with Adam, it was the Sabbath.3 In the covenant with Moses, it was the Passover meal. In the covenant with Jesus, it’s the Eucharist4 and in the covenant of marriage, it’s consummation.

Like this couple: married 60 plus years, 9 children, 25 grandchildren and 40 plus great-grandchildren. Now THAT's love!
Like this couple: married 60 plus years, 9 children, 25 grandchildren and 40 plus great-grandchildren. Now THAT’s love!

Renewing your vows is a beautiful gesture, but it’s just that: a gesture. Even when a couple celebrating 60 years together repeats their vows with tears of joy in their eyes, it’s just a symbol; it doesn’t do anything. The way you renew the covenant of marriage is by saying with your bodies what you said with your vows: I give myself completely to you forever.

Sex makes a marriage; sex outside of marriage isn’t just sin, it’s sacrilege. It’s renewing a covenant that doesn’t exist, like receiving the Eucharist if you’re not baptized or wandering in to a Seder meal, grabbing some lamb, and walking on through to flip through the paper in the other room. It’s more than just rude—it’s wrong.

If this incredible act of love was created for marriage (not just restricted to marriage), to create and renew and strengthen marriage, it just doesn’t make sense in any other context.

2. Sex is a sign of God’s love. Sex didn’t have to be awesome. God could very easily have designed human beings without family. Even with marriage and procreation, sex didn’t have to be an ecstatic, all-encompassing gift of self. He designed sex as a shadowy image of his love for us. It’s a foretaste of heaven. And the marriage that it consummates is a sign of God’s covenant with each human soul. The purpose of sex is to show you how deeply God loves you: a love that is indissoluble, for better or for worse. When you give yourself completely to your spouse, you experience a sliver of the complete self-emptying of God for you and (God willing) you begin to give yourself to him in return.

Look how excited they are to have said forever!
Look how excited they are to have said forever!

But when we engage in sex outside of marriage, we give ourselves completely to one who has no obligation to us, one who could–theoretically–use us and move on. Our relationship is necessarily tinged with uncertainty and even shame. We are giving ourselves but there’s no guarantee of tomorrow. Even if you’re absolutely certain that you’re going to get married, “Baby, I’ma love you forever” in the heat of the moment is very different from standing up before God, your momma, and everyone and saying “until death do us part.” You may mean forever but you haven’t vowed it and your heart knows that.

What does this tell us about God’s love for us? In this context, our experience of self-giving always has reservations–“for now,” we say, or “but not my fertility.” Our consummate experience of love is absolutely conditional. It has no flavor of eternity or surrender or promised sacrifice. And so we begin to feel that God’s love must also be conditional. He loves us as long as we’re young or beautiful or innocent or loveable. This damages our ability to love each other and our ability to receive God’s love.

Certainly even married sex is never perfect. There are conditions to the love of fallen man, fears and insecurities. But the vows you made are strengthened by God and the ideal is possible because of his grace. It is that ideal that speaks–in the thrill of married love–of the unending love of the great Lover of souls. Don’t cheat yourself of that.

3. You owe it to your children. I knew an agnostic teenage girl once who told me that she wasn’t going to have sex until she was married.5 “I owe it to my children,” she said, “to give them a father.”

This girl knew in her gut that sex isn’t just about pleasure or even just about love. It’s about family. It’s about a love so strong that it brings new life. And that new life deserves the stability of married parents.

Be warned: sometimes 1 + 1 = 4. Just ask my sister.
Be warned: sometimes 1 + 1 = 4. Just ask my sister.

But it’s not just that you might get pregnant. After all, you might not. And even if you did, you might end up happily married for many years. This isn’t a consequentialist view of morality6 but one that looks at the inherent purpose of an act, not merely its consequences. Sex is about family. Sex outside of the context of family (even a family of two) is disordered. Remember that sex is one image of the Trinity–two Persons whose love for one another is so strong it becomes a third Person. If it’s outside of marriage and openness to family, it’s closed in on you two and not about a love that spills forth to the world. This act of complete self-gift becomes an act of selfishness. That will begin to take its toll on your love.

4. Chastity prepares you for a healthy, happy marriage. I don’t mean to come out all roses and butterflies about how pleasant and happy marriage is. I know too many married people to think that a healthy marriage is all smiles all the time. Marriage is hard. And so is chastity–before marriage and after marriage. When I’m asking you to be chaste, I understand that it seems a Herculean task, especially when you’re in love. It takes a lot of work, months and even years of self-control and self-sacrifice, of patience and communication, of fortitude and purity and respect, obedience, and selflessness. If you’re going to make it to the altar unsullied, you’ll have to work and work and work at these virtues.

Because "happily ever after" is just the beginning.
Because “happily ever after” is just the beginning.

Fortunately, these are exactly the virtues that you need for a strong marriage. That patience and selflessness and self-control is exactly what’s going to hold your marriage together during the tough times. And after a few years of absolute celibacy while dating the love of your life, celibacy on a business trip or with a good friend who suddenly seems like more won’t be quite so tough. Marriage isn’t a magic wand that makes it possible for you to be chaste but if you’ve trained yourself in self-control, fidelity in marriage will be a lot easier.

I often hear people argue that premarital sex is actually a good idea as it’s practice for marriage. You know what’s really practice for marriage? Doing what’s right even when it’s hard. Sacrificing and communicating and learning how to be strong for each other. Chastity is the best practice for marriage. Love your partner enough to wait.

 

Now, obviously God is merciful and people and relationships can be healed. You’re not SOL because you messed up, even if you messed up repeatedly and unrepentantly. Where sin abounds, grace abounds the more.7 But if you’re at a crossroads and you’re wondering if it’s worth fighting this overwhelming desire, it is. I promise you won’t regret it.

  1. Note: there’s only so much nuancing that can be done in a blog post. It’s already too long. I love you and I’m not judging you! [↩]
  2. Remember that religion class vocab word? Irrevocable exchange of persons. [↩]
  3. So take a real Sabbath this Sunday! It’s God’s gift of love to you. [↩]
  4. Which, of course, is also the Passover meal. [↩]
  5. Well, she said “in a permanent relationship” because she didn’t believe in marriage, but it comes to the same thing. [↩]
  6. The idea that the morality of an act depends entirely on its consequences. [↩]
  7. Rom 5:20 [↩]

How to Reform the Church

I’ve spent the past 16 months traveling this country. I’ve been to Mass in 36 states in the past year and a half and in half a dozen other countries in recent years. So let me tell you something, in case you haven’t noticed: this Church of ours is badly in need of reform. I know you feel it too. You read the headlines and sit in the pews and watch the youth fall away and you know that something’s gotta give. With clergy abusing minors while bishops look the other way, with vapid “catechesis” and liturgy that reminds one more of a carnival or a dreary deposition than the wedding feast of the Lamb, with Catholics who dehumanize the unborn and Catholics who victimize the poor, it’s no wonder that many of us resting in the arms of Mother Church feel compelled to do something.

The list of particular faults would be different, but the sentiment has been the same since Jesus ascended. The Church is already but not yet, divine and human, “holy and always in need of purification.”1 Whether it’s casting out heretics or letting sinners in, faithful sons and daughters of Mother Church have been drawing her along the path of purification (by God’s grace) since before anyone else knew there was a Church.

St. Robert Bellarmine, pray for us.
St. Robert Bellarmine, pray for us.

You and I are descendants of this noble tradition, this tradition of reform that made yesterday’s Saint a Saint and not the founder of a Protestant denomination.2 If you’re looking critically at the state of the Church, there ought to be elements that make you weep, not because of bitterness but because of a deep love for the Body of Christ, the Church. She’s preserved free of error but not free of sin. Made exclusively of sinners (in the Church militant, anyway), it’s no wonder that she’s so beset by scandal and failure. But we who love her will not despair. We will follow in the footsteps of Robert Bellarmine and Francis de Sales, of Nicholas and Augustine, of John XXIII and Mother Teresa. We will live in such a way that the Church and the world will never be the same.

So what can we do, we who have so much hope for this magnificent Church made up of flawed individuals? How can we love our Church as the beacon of truth instituted by Christ while working to make her more true, good, and beautiful? How can we reform without starting a reformation?

1. Know what the Church is supposed to be. If you’re concerned with the state of things, do your research first. Read the Catechism3 so you know what can and can’t change in the Church. Here’s a hint: doctrine can’t change. And won’t. Ever. If you’re big on the “spirit of Vatican II,” read the documents before you make a vague reference to the feelings you have about the council. If you want to question Church teaching, read the whole Bible. If you’re still unsure about transubstantiation or Mary or social justice, read everything written by the Church Fathers–it’s all been there from the beginning.

Source.
Source.

This is the difference between reform and dissent: a reformer fights to make the Church more herself; a dissenter tries to remake the Church in his own image. Teresa and Ignatius and Pius and Robert are reformers because they saw the glory latent in a broken Church and sought to draw it out. Luther and Calvin and Cranmer were dissenters because they tried to impose their ideas on the Church–and lost her in the battle. If you’re trying to turn the Church into a charitable organization or a social club or a rock concert, find another group to subvert. But if you know what Jesus and Cyprian and Gregory and Catherine and John Henry and John Paul meant by Church–an instrument of truth and goodness and beauty in a sin-ravaged world–then let’s get to work.

2. Don’t complain. The temptation when you’re in a spiritually dead parish or a liturgically heterodox parish or a parish led by a great sinner is to gossip. We get with like-minded people and whine about how bad things are which makes us more ill-tempered and more likely to see the bad. We miss the holiness and reverence and joy because we’re looking for the topic of our next tirade. Make this commitment: don’t say anything negative about the Church to people who can’t do anything about it. The less you complain, the less frustrated you’ll be.

Reform often looks more like this than anything else.
Reform often looks more like this than anything else.

The flip side is this: have the guts to say something. If you’re concerned that the religious ed program is too fluffy, don’t complain to the other parents, go talk to the D.R.E.! If you can’t take the liturgical abuses, talk it over with Father. If that doesn’t work and it’s serious enough, meet with the bishop. Or, if it’s appropriate, talk to a friend who’s closer to your pastor and would be willing to raise your concerns. If it’s important enough to “vent” about, it’s important enough to discuss with someone who can make changes. Reform doesn’t come from sniping in hushed undertones. If it matters, take a risk and say something. You might be crucified for it–but at least you’ll be in good company.

3. Be the change. Sometimes talking to someone isn’t going to help. But even if it would, you have to be willing to do something. If you think kids these days don’t know their faith, volunteer to teach them. Or if you have more money than charisma, make a donation specifically earmarked for sending kids to a Steubenville conference or a LifeTeen camp. If you think parishes need to be stronger communities, talk to your pastor about forming a welcoming committee. Be a mentor couple for young people in marriage prep. Host a mom’s group or a teen movie night or a young adult dinner. If you’re concerned that your parish isn’t doing enough to evangelize, offer to go door-to-door in the neighborhood inviting people back to Church. Stop saying “Somebody should really do something” and DO IT!

"I want a mess! ...I want trouble in the dioceses!" Source.
“I want a mess! …I want trouble in the dioceses!” Source.

This covers little things, too. If you’re frustrated at what people wear to Mass, don a three-piece suit or a fancy (modest) dress with a matching hat. Get to Mass early and kneel quietly if noise in the sanctuary bothers you; it might just show people what the sanctuary is for. Receive the Eucharist like it’s actually the God of the universe. Because it is. Iron the altar linens. Teach your children to be reverent. But make sure you’re not taking it too far: you might want to kneel when the GIRM says to kneel, but if the bishop has issued different norms, you always defer to the bishop. Be the change by being obedient, by getting your hands dirty, by wasting your time and driving people nuts. Make a mess, my friends. Pope Francis will be so proud.

4. Live in the heart of the Church. The great Catholic reformers loved their Church, warts and all. If you’re serious about wanting to change the Church, it has to be at the service of the Church, not at the service of some ideology. If you don’t love the Church with everything you are, fight until you do. Get to confession at least monthly. Go to daily Mass as often as possible. Pray the Liturgy of the Hours, the “prayer of the Church.” Invite your priest over for dinner. Pray for the pope. 

Because if you don’t love the Church–deeply, desperately love her as the body of Christ on earth–then your good impulses will be twisted. You’ll find yourself attacking the Church instead of supporting her. Before you know it, your reform will be a reformation.

You cannot change the Church from outside. If you truly believe that the Catholic Church is the Church founded by Christ against whom the gates of hell will not prevail, cling to her. Don’t be a Catholic in name only–submit your intellect and your will, your entire life to the Church. Consent to be a failure and watch the Lord emerge victorious.

Holy Cards5. Be a saint. It all comes down to this. You can write brilliant blog posts or start great programs or argue with a thousand priests and win and nothing will matter if you’re not holy. Be so freaking holy that people around you are drawn to Christ. Look at the history of our Church: you never find solitary Saints. St. Clare was holy and dragged her mother (Blessed) and two sisters (one Saint, one Blessed) along with her. Bernard of Clairvaux was so holy that his parents, six brothers, and one sister are all canonized or on their way there. John Bosco and Dominic Savio, Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, Ignatius Loyola and Francis Xavier, Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac, and all their less famous companions–they spurred each other on, called one another to greatness. This, my friends, is how you reform the Church: you love so hard and you pray so well and you learn and you teach and you value humility second only to charity.

The great reformers of our Church were all Saints–not because we canonize people who do impressive things but because you can’t do great works unless you abandon your own desires and live only for Christ’s. Our Church and our world don’t need revolutionaries, they need saints. So before you do anything else, get your butt to confession and get praying. Real, serious prayer time, even when you’re “too busy.” Ask the Lord to use you, to work in you, to set you on fire with love for him. Then get out of the way.

I have great hope for our Church. I have to–I trust the Holy Spirit. But I’ve also met many of his chosen instruments. And you all have what it takes to be the great saints this Church needs. Let us begin.

  1. CCC 1248 [↩]
  2. The Bellarmists? Bellarmans? [↩]
  3. Yes, the whole thing. It’s actually a really great read and you can knock the whole thing out in a year reading only nine paragraphs a day. [↩]

How to Stay Catholic in College

Apparently this weekend is college move-in weekend in Boston, which means parking is impossible and you can’t walk anywhere without dodging two guys in tank tops carrying a futon. Seeing all those wide-eyed freshmen and their anxious parents got me thinking: more than two thirds of Catholics who leave the Church do it before the age of 24. Which makes college crucial to forming a religious identity, particularly one that isn’t dependent on parents. So what can you do, as a Catholic college student, to strengthen your faith and stay Catholic in college? Look no further, friends! You have here a bona fide expert who actually went to college and stayed Catholic.1 And I’ve walked with dozens of students trying to do the same thing. Here’s what I’ve learned is key:

Sanctuary darkened tabernacle crucifix1. Go to Mass. Every Sunday and Holy Day.2 Without exception. I have a friend whose mother used to say, “If you would miss my funeral on the same day for the same reason, go ahead and skip Mass.” Would you skip your mother’s funeral because of a hangover? Hardly. Because your finance project is due the next day? I doubt it. Because there are free breadsticks in the lounge at the same time? I sure hope not.

The Mass is the most important thing you do as a Catholic. In many ways, it’s what makes you Catholic. Don’t skip it.

2. Get involved. First thing when you get to college, find the Catholic center.3 Introduce yourself to the campus minister and the priest. Find out when Masses and confessions are. Put a reminder into your phone. Sign up for something that keeps you coming back–a Bible study, the Knights of Columbus, a service project, whatever. Find out when they’re offering free food and show up. This is the community that you want to get plugged into. If you don’t do it early, you may find yourself halfway through the year with no Catholic friends, no Catholic community, and sporadic Mass attendance. Not a good start.4

Catholic friends=fun while sober. (I'm playing the shovel. He's playing the air shovel. Not a drop of alcohol involved. And yes, I am available for birthday parties.)
Catholic friends = fun while sober. (I’m playing the shovel. He’s playing the air shovel. Not a drop of alcohol involved. And yes, I am available for birthday parties.)

3. Make Catholic friends. Oh, make friends of all kinds. Don’t just make Catholic friends. But it’s important to find friends who will encourage you in your attempts to be virtuous and call you out when you fall short. Different perspectives and experiences are great but nothing beats a group of friends who are running to heaven with you. Go to events at the Catholic center and look for friends. Pray for them, even. Then get off your knees and friend someone on Facebook. It’s not real friendship, but it’s a good (and not terribly awkward) first step.

4. Don’t be a drunk. Let’s get this straight: underage drinking is illegal. Catholics are obligated to follow just laws. So in the United States, it is morally wrong to drink at dorm parties when you’re 19, even if it is normal. Now, I know plenty of people who drank in college and are Catholic today. It’s still not okay.

But it’s really not okay to get drunk. And here’s what often results: you go out to get drunk (which is a sin even if nothing else happens). You hook up with some guy. You wake up the next morning and are terribly ashamed of yourself. So you don’t go to Mass because you feel too guilty. The next weekend you go out with the same friends (see #3) and do the same thing. Before long, you begin to think that your partying is fine, it’s just the judgmental Church making you feel guilty that’s messed up. See why this is a problem?

What? You were expecting a German Catholic not to drink? Via.
What? You were expecting a German Catholic not to drink? Via.

Having a few drinks (depending on how much of a lightweight you are) when you’re of age is fine. We’re Catholic, after all. But don’t tell me you can’t have a social life if you don’t drink underage. If you can’t have fun without drinking, you’re an alcoholic. If your friends make fun of you for not drinking, you need new friends. Might I recommend finding some at daily Mass? It’s worked out well for me.

5. Go to confession. The way out of that drunken hookup cycle–and any cycle of sin–is confession. Go any time you’re in mortal sin. Don’t wait till it’s convenient–track down a priest and go!

If you’re graced enough (and it is about grace, not about you) not to be committing mortal sins, set yourself a confession schedule and stick to it. Every month or twice a semester or Advent and Lent; as long as it’s at least once a year, you’re meeting the requirement. But do more than meet the requirement. Confession doesn’t just clean your soul, it strengthens the soul against future sin. And nothing beats faith faster than sin. If you’re serious about staying Catholic, get to confession. Often.

You're welcome.
I knew you would like this picture. You’re welcome.

6. Keep your pants on. But more than that–don’t kiss anyone you’re not dating and don’t date anyone you couldn’t marry. It’s so easy to get caught up in the hookup culture and find yourself in that same cycle of shame that drives people out of the arms of the Church instead of to the foot of the Cross. Be intentional about chastity–emotional and physical, alone and with others–and find friends who will hold you accountable.

7. Get educated. College is not career prep. It’s about being educated, even in things you don’t think are interesting. Take classes that challenge you intellectually and form you as a person: philosophy and great books and history, but also logic and medical ethics and embryology. Forget for a minute about what’s lucrative and just learn. Take a ballroom dancing class or a seminar on current events in the Middle East, even if you are an engineer. Take an econ class so you can speak intelligently on those political issues you’ve been avoiding. Don’t just learn what you already know and like–learn what makes you uncomfortable or confuses you. Learn what you find boring and figure out why it’s not.

Chrissy: "You mean you didn't learn all the things?" Rosie: "Awkward." Me: "Wait, I wasn't just supposed to learn the stuff I already mostly knew?"
Chrissy: “You mean you didn’t learn all the things?”
Rosie: “Awkward.”
Me: “Wait, I wasn’t just supposed to learn the stuff I already mostly knew?”

How will this keep you Catholic? Well, all truth leads to Rome and God wants you to be a well-informed person and to think critically and all that. And beauty will save the world and you won’t draw intellectuals to Christ if you’re a buffoon. But mostly it’s my biggest regret from college: I saw education as something to accomplish, so I only took what was required and got out as fast as I could. And now, despite a very impressive education, I’m pretty one-dimensional intellectually. With all the debt you’re going to have, you might as well come out educated.

8. Ask questions. For most people, college is the time that you find the big holes in Catholicism. I’ll let you in on a secret: there are no holes in Catholicism. But don’t take my word for it, ask! Ask your priest and your campus minister and your friend who’s a philosophy major. Read the Catechism, take theology classes, write to your bishop. Do what it takes to get to the bottom of things. So many people–maybe even most people–leave the Church because they don’t understand her teachings and it’s a damn shame. You have more resources available to you than any person ever in the history of the world. Take advantage of them and ask until you get a satisfactory answer. And if you can’t get a good enough answer, send me an email. I’ll come visit you and we’ll discuss everything that’s bugging you over a cup of coffee or four.5

Don’t let unanswered questions push you away. And don’t let half-baked answers convince you the Church is wrong. Find someone who knows what he’s talking about and listen. I think this 2,000-year-old faith deserves that much respect.

A good mentor (or big sister) will literally (no, I do not mean figuratively) carry you through to graduation.
A good mentor (or big sister) will literally (no, I do not mean figuratively) carry you through to graduation.

9. Find a mentor. Being young is tough, especially when you’re trying to navigate faith along with everything else. Find someone who’s been where you are and come out the other side and meet with her. An upperclassman in your major can give you tips on which professors are most violently anti-Catholic and which might allow you to voice your opinion. The lady whose kids you babysit can give you boy advice and tell you when your skirt is too short. Father’s available for spiritual direction and the Sisters who show up at Mass once a week would love to help you grow in your prayer life. That older gentleman who volunteers as sacristan probably has a lot to say about what it means to be a Christian man. Find someone who isn’t 18 and ask for help when you need it–and when you think you don’t.

10. Evangelize. You don’t know everything there is about being Catholic, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love the Church. So tell someone! Sharing your faith doesn’t make you a jerk and you’ll often find yourself better-informed and more committed when you’re trying to lead others to Christ. Set a goal for yourself: invite someone to Mass every week or ask one person a month what she thinks about God. You might change someone’s life. You’ll certainly change your own.

Camera 36011. Pray. Every day. Going to Mass every Sunday is a great start, but Jesus didn’t live 33 years for you and die in excruciating agony so that you’d hang out with him an hour a week. Try stopping by the chapel just off campus for ten minutes every day. You won’t regret it.

Accountability will help with this. Grab some of those Catholic friends we’ve been talking about and plan on a Rosary walk on Sunday nights or a lunchtime chat about the next Sunday’s readings. Despite how crazy life seems, you’ve got a lot of free time at your disposal.6 If prayer isn’t a priority now, it probably won’t be when you’ve got a mortgage and diapers and a deadline looming. Form your addiction to prayer now and it’ll be harder to break when life starts getting in the way.

12. Don’t give up. You’re going to screw up. Don’t let that defeat you. Don’t quit the Church because you don’t think you’re good enough–we none of us are. And don’t run away because the answers don’t come easy. Repent and question and push and just keep going. And, most importantly, beg for the grace to persevere. God can do amazing things with a humble, broken heart. Let him work in you.

**********************

What do y’all think? Any other tips from those who’ve made it? Questions from those who are still trying to persevere? Requests for more pictures from when I was in college? (Answer: that was before Facebook–yes, I am that old–so I really don’t have any. Well, two, but they weren’t as funny as these.)

Catholic in college

  1. No Notre Dame jokes please and thank you. [↩]
  2. I’ve pointed it out before: this is .65% of your life. If God isn’t worth .65% of your life, I don’t know what is. [↩]
  3. If you’re a commuter, find a parish with an active young adult group–one that has some people your age, not the 50-something “young” adult crowd. [↩]
  4. If your Catholic center espouses heresy, as is sometimes the case, check out the parish in town. It’s okay to shop around a little bit as long as you always, always make it to Mass. [↩]
  5. I’m not kidding. I’ll come. [↩]
  6. Really–cut out all screen time and tell me you can’t manage half an hour a day for Jesus. [↩]

An Open Letter to Everyone Who Disagrees With Me

Dear everyone,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because you disagree with me.1 And because I’m the kind of person I am, you probably disagree with me about something I feel very strongly about. That’s because I feel very strongly about everything. Faith and onions and leggings and children’s books—if I’m informed enough to have an opinion, you can bet it’ll be a terrifyingly passionate one.

Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.
Had there been a soapbox, I would have hopped right on up.

Unfortunately, I hate conflict. Deeply, desperately hate it. It gives me stomachaches and makes me so miserable I can hardly think about anything else—even when it’s imaginary conflict with people I don’t even know. It is hard for me to be public about my controversial beliefs. But it would be impossible for me not to be. Standing on a soapbox was written into my soul. It’s who I am.

It’s not a comfortable place to be, but it’s often a productive one, this diplomatic-dogmatic balance I try to hold. I cling to what I know to be true and err on the side of love. And generally people see that and respond with respect.

But sometimes not. Sometimes people attack and accuse and willfully misunderstand. Sometimes the rules of logic and civility seem to be thrown out the window. Sometimes the sound of a Facebook notification makes me so anxious I’m afraid I’m going to give myself an ulcer.

So often it’s because we assume the worst about each other. We assume that all people who disagree with us are condemning us. We think they hate us and find us stupid. And we believe that their position is really the stupid one and if only we can beat our flawless argument into their worthless heads they’ll finally agree with us.

Pope Francis loves youI love you. I really do. And when I try to explain these things—chastity or faith or the Eucharist or helping the poor—it’s because I love you. It’s not because you’re wrong and bad and stupid. It’s because I honestly believe that you’ll be happier living in the truth. I’m sure you disagree. And that’s okay. Just please know that I’m trying to love you well through all this.

I kind of hate me. I know how I—and the Church—often come across: a cold-hearted shrew screaming “NO!” at everyone who’s trying to be happy. I hate that I can’t just “live and let live.” But so often “live and let live” is code for “live and let die.” How can I stand by and watch you break your own heart and not say anything? I hate that the love I speak sounds so much like “NO.” I wish we understood each other better so you could hear the “yes” I’m trying to say.

I get where you’re coming from. I think the most important thing in dialogue is honestly trying to understand why the other person takes a particular position. So on every issue, I’m always trying to figure out the kind, loving, genuine beliefs that could motivate my opposition—and then I ascribe them to every person I encounter. So when you’re trying to tell me that rape victims should abort their babies, I hear compassion and sensitivity and a weak understanding of embryology. I’d love to hear why you take this position–that’s why I’m talking to you–but know that I really am assuming the best about you. I’d appreciate the same.

Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can't WAIT to celebrate his feast day!
Not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but I can’t WAIT to celebrate his feast day!

You’re probably not going to convince me. Just about everything I truly believe, I fought. And I fought hard. So if I believe it now, it’s because I’ve asked all these questions and found answers that satisfy me. The only worldview that makes any sense to me at all is the Catholic one. So I’ll listen, because I want to understand your position and appreciate its logic. And if you’re really convincing, I’ll probably think and pray about it for a few days. I may even do some more research.2 But if you’re opposing something the Church teaches infallibly, that’s as far as it’s going to go, God willing.3 Being open-minded, I think, doesn’t mean accepting anything you’re told even if it flies in the face of everything you hold dear; it means being willing to accept that another position is (at some level) kind and reasonable and to consider it fairly. That I’ll do.

I’m not always trying to convince you. Sometimes I know I’m not going to. Maybe you’re so young in your exploration of faith or you’re so rooted in the things of this world or you’ve convinced yourself so thoroughly of a certain matter that I’m pretty sure my input won’t make a difference. I won’t give up on you, but I don’t think it’s my job to convince you of my position. I do think it’s my job to show you that my position4 is reasonable and loving. When I ask you to be open-minded, it’s not because I want you to let go of your convictions; it’s because I want you to recognize that mine aren’t ludicrous or cruel. I promise to return the favor.

I’d love to answer any of your well-meant questions. People are sometimes afraid to ask questions—like they think I’ll be offended by their questions about celibacy or how strange it is to sit in a candle-lit room and talk to yourself. But if you’re asking honestly—either because you want to know or because you’re not sure I’ve asked that question of myself—I’m so happy to answer. I’m a Catholic because I really believe that it’s the truth. I really believe that the Church has all the answers. And if I can’t answer your question, that’s something I need to deal with.

That said, there are some questions that are just accusations. You know, “How can you oppose contraception when priests rape babies?” and “WTF is wrong with you?” and the like. Once we fall into ad hominem attacks and incessant harping on analogies, I’m out.

Seriously

I don’t think you’re stupid because you disagree with me. We live in a world where thinking someone is wrong is perceived as thinking that person is stupid or worthless or going to hell. I don’t think any of those things about anyone. I know wildly intelligent people who disagree with everything that I find essential. I know particularly unintelligent people who understand the faith far better than I ever will. I honestly think it’s been years since I judged a person as stupid or sinful or what-have-you because of his beliefs.

I do tend to think you’re stupid when you stop using reason and start freaking out. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe it’s something I should work on. But when you ignore every point I make except one and then misinterpret that one? When I explain my position over and over and you continue to fight a straw man? When you act like you know all the things and you can’t even grasp my definition of the word the debate hinges on? That’s when I struggle. And that’s usually when I excuse myself from the conversation.

Even people who split infinitives.
Even people who split infinitives.

I’m happy to drop it. It’s the peacemaker in me—I don’t want to fight you. So if you’re done debating, I’ll call it quits. And I probably won’t bring it up again for years, if ever. It’s hard for me not to talk about Jesus, him being the center of my life and all, but it’s easy for me just to limit those comments.5 If you’re firm in your position, I’ll love you and visit you and like your Facebook pictures and never say another word about our disagreement. But I’m here when you’re ready to.

I’m doing the best I can. I was born with my foot in my mouth and it just gets worse when we start talking about something that really matters. When we’re talking, it’s likely that my brain will take over and my heart will run pathetically after, trying to pull the words back into my mouth. I may say something that sounds totally insensitive because we’re speaking different languages. I’m sorry. But please assume that I mean well. I really am trying.

 

This, I think, is what dialogue is all about: love and forgiveness and understanding. It’s not about winning or ripping someone’s worldview apart and leaving him crying amid the rubble. It’s not necessarily about changing anyone’s position but about helping her to nuance it, maybe, or even just to acknowledge yours as not the worst thing ever to happen.

And you know what, friends? I assume you’re on the same page. I assume your intelligence and your good intentions and your integrity. I try to read all of your remarks in the most charitable way possible. Maybe if we all did the same, we could start making some progress.

Yours in compassionate conviction (I hope),

Meg

  1. No, really. You do. About something, I’m sure. [↩]
  2. Really—a very convincing Mormon got me questioning, as did a Calvinist. I’m listening. [↩]
  3. Matters of prudential judgment and politics and opinion are entirely up for grabs, of course. Except Notre Dame football. Duh. [↩]
  4. And by extension, I hope, the Church’s. [↩]
  5. My little brother is an atheist. He also hates football, which makes him a heathen in more ways than one. I said something about football a few years back and he interrupted me: “Meg, you know I don’t like football.” I said, “Timmy, I have two topics. Football and Jesus. Pick one.” He picked football. [↩]

How To Evangelize (And How Not To)

If I knew you in high school or early college (or probably later college, God help me), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for judging you and lecturing you. I’m sorry for throwing my faith in your face at every possible opportunity.  I’m sorry for responding to your crisis of faith by buying you Anselm’s On the Incarnation and telling you it would fix everything–an excellent book, but not the compassionate response.

See, when I first came to know Jesus in the eighth grade I felt meaning for the first time. My life had purpose and my suffering had value and suddenly–shockingly–I was happy to get out of bed in the morning.1 And I wanted you to feel that. I wanted you to know him and to experience the joy he’d brought to my life. I wanted you to know how desperately you were loved.

If you dressed like this, you would have been desperate to impress, too.
If you dressed like this, you would have been desperate to impress, too.

But I also wanted to win. I wanted you to know that I was right. I wanted you to see that I was really holy. I was awkward and insecure and I thought that if I brought you to Jesus you’d like me better. I had some good intentions when I beat my Bible at you, but not only good intentions and I’m sorry.

When I was younger, I evangelized like a sledgehammer.2 I went at people like they were battles to win, not souls to love. And I did a lot of damage, some of which seems irreparable except by grace. Oh, I know I did some good too. But I don’t think anybody ever sat me down and told me that it wasn’t my job to save souls. And when you think you’re saving souls–and that truth is all it takes–you go at it with the zeal of a crusader and the finesse of a drunken elephant.

My sister has 8-month-old twins. Elizabeth, the older, reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. From the moment she was born, she’s had a big personality with much wider range of emotion than you see from her sister. Lately, she’s taken to screaming like she’s being eviscerated. Turn down your speakers and take a listen (starting at 0:13):

How could you scream in a face like that?
How could you scream in a face like that?

She loves this noise and she really thinks everybody else should love it too. So she crawls over to her twin, playing innocently on the floor, tackles her, pins her to the ground, and sticks her face in Mary Claire’s face, shrieking gleefully as Mary Claire sobs.

Sometimes I think that’s how we evangelize. We’re not trying to hurt anybody. We really think they’re going to love what we’re doing. But we don’t listen to them. We don’t feel for them. We don’t open our eyes to see if they want anything to do with our message. We scream in their face (or on their facebook page) about how we are FILLED with the love of Christ and they’d better be too or they will GO TO HELL!!

Friends, that’s not evangelization. It’s not loving or Christlike or even effective. That’s where we get this reputation of being closed-minded and bigoted–from the few of us who come across as closed-minded and bigoted.

But we have to evangelize–that’s a huge part of being a Christian. Our beautiful Holy Father has been speaking on this need to spread the faith at World Youth Day:

Sharing the experience of faith, bearing witness to the faith, proclaiming the Gospel: this is a command that the Lord entrusts to the whole Church, and that includes you; but it is a command that is born not from a desire for domination or power but from the force of love, from the fact that Jesus first came into our midst and gave us, not a part of himself, but the whole of himself.

So what do we do? How do we evangelize if the simple proselytizing method isn’t going to do it?

1. Pray

Before all else, you have to be in love with Christ. Your prayer life has to be your top priority, although that looks different depending on your state in life, as Haley so brilliantly pointed out. So pray. Go to Mass every week without exception.3 Go to daily Mass as often as you can. Read the Bible! Get to confession–aim at once a month. And seek God in silence. It’s so easy to fill our lives with noise and then let the Rosary or the Liturgy of the Hours be more noise;4 make time every day to be still before the Lord. Even 5 minutes a day will change your life.

Pray for the people in your life who don’t know God or don’t know Christ or don’t know him in the Eucharist. Before you do anything else, pray for them. You can’t change their hearts and you can’t save their souls. Recognize that God is doing the work and ask, seek, and knock on their behalf.

Pray about evangelizing. Ask the Lord who he wants you to speak to and how he wants you to speak. Ask the Holy Spirit to be the one at work in your conversations. Pray before posting something controversial on Facebook, before commenting or sharing or retweeting. Ask Jesus to stand between you and the people you’re trying to bring him to–and to smack you upside the head and shove you away if you’re doing it wrong.

2. Love

He loved you at your worst. Do the same for his other children.
He loved you at your worst. Do the same for his other children.

There is no more powerful force in this world than love. Your job is to love the people around you–and not just as a strategy for their conversion, either! Sure, hopefully your love is so powerful that others recognize something different in you. But if you’re loving people so that you win, you’re fake and probably not terribly convincing about it. Your purpose in loving is not to change someone. Your purpose is to love as Christ loved.

The semester I studied in Italy,5 almost everyone I was there with hated the Church. Passionately. They would make filthy jokes about priests and spent their weekends experimenting with different combinations of alcohol, weed, and caffeine. I knew there was nothing I could say to change their minds, so I prayed and prayed and kept my mouth shut. And went out with them to make sure they didn’t get too drunk to get back. And sat with them on the balcony while they got drunk and high at the same time to make sure they didn’t fall over the railing. I was miserable and felt useless.

And then, at the end of the semester, one of my friends turned to me (drunk) and told me:

“Until this semester, I didn’t think there was a place for me in the Church. But now I think maybe there is. Because you love me. Thank you.”

We fell out of touch, so I don’t know what ended up happening to him. But that moment changed my life. I’d spent years looking for openings to preach when all I needed to do was let love speak.

So once you’ve prayed, shut your mouth and love until it hurts. Then keep loving.

3. Witness

Once people know that you love them, they begin to look at your life to see why. The witness of your life is a powerful statement, and it’s not just about wearing a cross and sharing Catholic memes. It’s about joy and consistency and openness.

Choose to be joyful. The world doesn’t need more dour Christians. Live with an eternal perspective. As Mother Teresa said, “Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of Christ risen.” If your life is transparently joyful–filled with hope in moments that should occasion despair, not just chipper and shallow–people will wonder why.

Be consistent. If you can’t be Christian Saturday night, don’t ask me to join you Sunday morning. Modern man can spot a fake at a thousand paces and if your Facebook timeline is half quotations from Pope Francis and half drunken selfies, you’re doing far more harm than good. Get your stuff together. People don’t mind sinners who acknowledge that they’re sinners and ask for help to be better. They hate hypocrites.

It doesn't have to look like this. But it can.
It doesn’t have to look like this. But it can.

Don’t be embarrassed about your faith. Mention that you’re going to Mass when you make plans for Sunday brunch. Pray before meals. Have a chant ringtone. Those little things help people to connect your love and joy to your faith.

4. Propose

Finally–finally–after praying and loving and doing your best to be as Christlike as possible, finally you can say something. Maybe it’s as simple as sharing an article on Facebook or retweeting the Pope. Maybe it’s inviting someone to go to Mass with you or to join your Bible study. Maybe it’s sitting down with a friend and asking–gently–why he doesn’t go to Church any more. Maybe it’s talking to your friends about NFP. Maybe it’s just being open to how the Holy Spirit is calling you to evangelize.

I knew a high schooler once–captain of the basketball team, center of the school’s social life–who signed up for a holy hour every Friday evening at 10pm. He’d go out to dinner with his friends, go back to somebody’s house, start watching a movie, and then stand up to leave at quarter to 10. He just said, “I’m going to adoration. Anyone want to come?” The timing and the invitation changed that school. Kids would caravan to adoration on Friday nights. Because one guy had the guts to ask.

But when you’re asking those leading questions or inviting friends on a marriage retreat or explaining the Church’s position, be humble. You don’t have all the answers, even though the Church does. You’re not better than anyone or smarter or kinder or even happier. But I would guess that you’re better and smarter and kinder and happier than you were; that’s what you’re offering.

So often, it’s the little things that open people’s hearts to the Lord. It’s inviting them to go to confession, buying them a rosary, asking that question, sharing that CD. The Holy Spirit will lead you there–if you’re praying. It will mean more if you love them. It will be compelling if you’re living it.

It’s not yelling at people when they’re wrong. It’s not snorting derisively or calling them out in public. It’s not ever trying to be right but trying to seek truth. Truth and goodness and beauty–not smug correction or broken relationships.

I’d love to hear your thoughts–how do you draw the line between evangelizing like a sledgehammer and inviting people to Christ? Do you think it’s enough just to love people if you’re not actively introducing them to doctrine? Do you have any stories of how the Lord was leading people to him through you and you didn’t even know it?

*******************

If you live in the Harrisonburg, VA area, will you do me a huge favor? Will you like my mom’s pumpkin patch on Facebook? And then visit in the fall? Thanks!!

  1. Okay, I’m never happy to get out of bed. But I was happy to be alive and excited to face the day. [↩]
  2. I hope it was only when I was younger–if I’m still doing this, please break it to me gently. And NOT in a comment on this post. [↩]
  3. The Church requires that you go to Mass 57 times a year. That’s 0.65% of your life. Are you really so busy that you can’t give God less than 1% of your life? [↩]
  4. These are great prayers. But if you’re not good at praying them–like me–you definitely need silence too. [↩]
  5. I know, I know. Jesus is particularly fond of me. [↩]

100 Ways to Be Pro-Life

I am pro-life. I’m not just pro-birth or anti-abortion. I’m pro-life. That means I’m pro-babies and pro-elderly and pro-immigrant and pro-disabled and pro-peace. I’m anti-poverty and anti-discrimination and anti-hatred. I vote against abortion and against capital punishment and against toxic waste. I offer help to pregnant women, single mothers, overworked fathers, depressed teenagers, homeless veterans, middle-class suburbanites, undocumented immigrants, uneducated children, struggling students, lonely old men, and frightened refugees. I don’t think your life is worth any more because you’re white or American or intelligent or born. I don’t think it’s enough to be pro-life and not do anything about it. And while we may each be drawn to focus on a different pro-life issue, I’m not convinced that you can really be pro-life if you’re not whole-life–conception to natural death, no exceptions.

We can’t all pray outside clinics or write legislation or teach the next generation to value the dignity of each life. But we can all fight for life. We can love the lives around us and reach out to those far away. We can sacrifice for those who need it and refuse to be silenced. We can question and weep and rage and pray. We can fight.

  1. Adopt a cute little baby.
  2. Adopt a belligerent teenager.
  3. Adopt a child with a cleft palate, spina bifida, or multiple sclerosis.
  4. Thank a birth mother.
  5. Be a foster parent.
  6. Take a meal to a family that’s struggling.
  7. Start awkward conversations about hard issues.
  8. Take a pay cut to do something meaningful.
  9. Stop by your local crisis pregnancy center. Do whatever they need done.
  10. Write to your Grandmother.
  11. Have a picnic in the park for the homeless.
  12. Where's the supportThrow a baby shower for a teen mother.
  13. Offer to babysit for that frazzled couple you know–for free.
  14. Read up on immigration reform.
  15. Don’t buy clothes made in sweatshops.
  16. Show your children pictures of unborn babies.
  17. Spiritually adopt a prisoner on death row.
  18. Love your children.
  19. Love other people’s children.
  20. Share this article about what a blessing an autistic child can be.
  21. When a couple suffers a miscarriage, mourn with them.
  22. Get involved with your local Catholic Worker House.
  23. Buy generics–give the difference to Catholic Relief Services.
  24. Recognize that mental illness is an illness.
  25. Go through your closet once a year–give anything you haven’t worn to the St. Vincent de Paul society.
  26. Stop judging people because their ancestors immigrated after yours did.
  27. Support businesses that are taking a risk in order to fight for our first amendment rights.
  28. Give up your seat to an elderly/handicapped/pregnant/world-weary person.
  29. Give blood.
  30. Give a kidney.
  31. Give bottles of water to day laborers waiting for work.
  32. When an unmarried woman tells you she’s pregnant, figure out a way to tell her how proud you are. If your life is transparent, telling her she’s your hero won’t make her think extramarital sex is okay in your book.
  33. Read Dead Man Walking and all the footnotes.1
  34. Invite a woman dealing with a crisis pregnancy to live in your home.
  35. Grandmother JPTake your baby to a nursing home and hand her around.
  36. Advocate for women’s health without advocating for killing unborn women.
  37. Buy a homeless man dinner.
  38. Watch this movie and tell me if it’s as cute as the trailers made it look.
  39. Watch Bella in a group and then discuss. Is abortion ever necessary? Would you have gone to the clinic with her?
  40. Watch Million Dollar Baby in a group and then discuss.2 Was there another way out? What value does suffering have?
  41. Teach your kids to tithe from their allowances; meet quarterly to pick a charity to give to.
  42. Study Just War Theory before you support a war.
  43. Study Just War Theory before you support pulling out.
  44. Have babies.
  45. Smile at them in public.
  46. Smile at them in private.
  47. Write your senator.
  48. Thank your priest after he preaches on any controversial topic.
  49. Give to people who need it–no questions asked.
  50. Give until it hurts.
    I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc. is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say that they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charities expenditures excludes them.–C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
  51. Pay a fair wage.
  52. Tell your local crisis pregnancy center you’ll babysit for their clients–free.
  53. Tell your story.
  54. Andrea BocelliInvite your aging parents to live with you.
  55. Keep blessing bags in your car for the homeless.
  56. Talk–gently–about abortion with those who support it.
  57. Love post-abortive women (and men) extra hard.
  58. PRAY!
  59. Thank a veteran.
  60. Stand up to a bully.
  61. Don’t waste food/clothing/energy/an opportunity to help.
  62. Stay informed.
  63. Choose to believe that people generally have good intentions.
  64. Give your time, talent, and treasure to a soup kitchen, a battered women’s shelter, an assisted living facility, Habitat for Humanity, legal aid, prison ministry, a home for teen moms, a camp for the disabled…anywhere that helps anyone.
  65. Talk about atrocities being perpetrated in other countries.
  66. Sign the Declaration of Life and give a copy to your family members. It may not be legally binding, but it’s a powerful statement.
  67. Recognize beauty in every human face. And every body type. And every ability level. And every set of problems and addictions and anxieties.
  68. Figure out why research done on adult stem cells is better than on embryonic stem cells–on every level.
  69. Question Guantanamo Bay, nuclear proliferation, gun laws, and international debt.
  70. 100_0099Spend some time in Palestine and begin questioning that wall.
  71. Befriend the outcast.
  72. Share the Gospel with someone.
  73. Buy locally.
  74. Take a risk on someone handicapped/uneducated/foreign when you’re hiring.
  75. Learn the facts about human embryology. Share them.
  76. Recognize that poverty is not synonymous with laziness.
  77. Live on minimum wage for a month.
  78. Smile more.
  79. Don’t use hormonal contraceptives.3
  80. Bake cookies for prisoners.
  81. Educate people about human trafficking.
  82. Don’t assume all homeless people are on drugs.
  83. Talk to a friend about her alcohol problem.
  84. Go to the March for Life.
  85. Blog about pro-life issues.
  86. Realize that war, poverty, capital punishment, education, discrimination, euthanasia, health care, immigration, affordable housing, fair trade, prostitution, and sweatshops are also pro-life issues.
  87. grinning FelicityTake your kids to the Special Olympics.
  88. Pray for those who go hungry every time you eat. Eat accordingly.
  89. Talk to a theologian when dealing with end-of-life issues.
  90. Reduce, reuse, recycle.
  91. Mentor at-risk youth.
  92. Stop yelling at your kids.
  93. Walk more, drive less.
  94. Look for a need in your community. Meet it.
  95. Teach ESL for free.
  96. Befriend someone who disagrees with you.
  97. Listen more than you talk.
  98. Don’t give up on people.
  99. Forgive.
  100. Love everybody. No exceptions.

Your whole life can be a battle for life–every life. What would you add to the list?

  1. They’re out of date but little has changed besides inflation as far as I know. [↩]
  2. Warning: rated morally offensive by the USCCB reviews for violence and the obvious moral quandary. I had no qualms about showing it to mature teenagers. [↩]
  3. Or any, for that matter. [↩]