.png)
When your ancestry proves you out to be a European mutt, I think there's generally one part of your ancestry that speaks to you more than the others. For me, it's my Irish blood. I'm at least a quarter Irish, so I guess maybe that counts for something. Or not. I can't hold an Irish accent for more than half a second. Lol. St. Patrick wasn't Irish by birth, he was British. I have that in me, too...obviously. When I got my DNA percentage breakout my sister said, "Girl, you're white." No, kidding. You think so? 😅 Anyway, back to St. Patrick. So, we all know his story: Kidnapped as a teenager, taken over to Ireland, forced into slave labor, finds God, escapes, goes back home, becomes a priest, and decides to go back to Ireland to convert the Irish to Christianity. That takes guts and I admire Bishop Patrick for it. To go back to the people that enslaved you and will their good, well, that's real love. That's the type of love that can only come from Christianity because it was Jesus that taught the radical idea of loving your enemies. There is goodness to be sure in loving those that are entrusted to you care and are easy to love. It is quite another thing to love those who hate you. We all find this difficult to do and people are lying if they say it's easy. It's not. It can only happen by tapping into God's grace, because without that grace, our nature says, "Leave them and let them rot." To be sure, some enemies will reject any love you try to give them and so we must pray for them behind the scenes. We must, as St. Maria Goretti taught me, hope that they find their way to Heaven and that God finds a way to pierce their soul. We all want a better world, one filled with peace and love, yet all of us struggle with wanting to add more love into the equation, especially when it's hard. St. Patrick made Ireland better by giving Christ to the people; he loved them enough to give them the gift of Christ's love. He didn't have to, but he went back and made the place and many of the people better than how he found it. That's a good legacy to leave, Catholic Pilgrims. St. Patrick, pray for us!
Continue ReadingIt's poppy time here in California. "Poppies. Poppies!" (Said like the Wicked Witch of the West) Though, unlike my fellow Kansan, Dorothy, I did not fall asleep amongst the flowers. As you know, (gear up for shameless plug), I am reading St. Augustine's "Confessions" for Season Six of my podcast. The more I read this book, the more I relate to St. Augustine. For much of his early life, he was a Manichee. Manichaeism was started by a man named Mani and it was kind of hodgepodge of various other religions. For a long time, St. Augustine rejected Christianity because, for one, he couldn't conceive of a god that wasn't material in nature. Everything, for him, had to have substance to be real. Anyway, once he comes into contact with St. Ambrose in Milan, things start to change for him as he listens to Ambrose's preaching. He writes: "Nevertheless, I was glad that all this time I had been howling my complaints not against the Catholic Faith but against something quite imaginary which I had thought up in my own head. At the same time I was ashamed of myself, because I had certainly been both rash and impious in speaking out in condemnation of a matter on which I ought to have take pains to be better informed." This was me. Before becoming Catholic, I railed against what I thought Catholicism was and I had never taken the time to look into the matter for myself. I was a prideful, lazy, wanna-be intellectual. If you encounter someone like my former self or the pre-Catholic Augustine, always be sure to ask them what they think the Church teaches, because nine times out of ten, they will get it wrong, imagining only what misconceptions they have been fed. A priest once told me, "You must learn to humble yourself, because if you don't, either God will do it or someone else. It's much easier if you go ahead and do it yourself." No matter which way, thank God for being humbled, Catholic Pilgrims. It's the only way you can come to the truth. Have a blessed Monday.
Continue ReadingI will never forget the day when I got my first set of glasses. I was in 3rd grade. As I walked out of the doctor's office, I was thrilled to be able to see the individual leaves on the trees. I'd take my glasses off, see the blurry mass, put them back on and see each one hanging. Oh, it felt incredible. The world seemed open to me again. I wasn't completely blind, like the blind man in our Gospel reading today, but I can somewhat understand what it was like for him to finally receive his vision. With Scripture, there are always layers to peel back and discover. Blindness doesn't always just mean physically not being able to see. I, also, recall the first time I went into a major Catholic Church. It was St. Patrick's in NYC. I was a hard-hearted Protestant and I didn't want to go into the church. Seeing as my husband's whole family is Catholic, they all wanted to go in. There I was in a stunning church and I couldn't see it. I couldn't see the beauty. I couldn't see the goodness. I couldn't see anything. My soul was darkened. I just stood like a grumpy bear in the back, testily waiting for everyone to get done looking around. When I think back to seeing a church that magnificent, I remember feeling a bit awe-struck by something so stunning. However, I didn't want to show it. The Pharisees are no different in our story today. They can't see the goodness in having a blind man healed. They grump and grumble about healing being done on the Sabbath, they wonder about the legitimacy of it all, they harshly question the parents and the man himself. They are blind--spiritually blind. Just as I was. A hard, rigid, joyless heart makes seeing truth, goodness, and beauty--makes seeing God--nearly impossible. Even when those things are right in front of your face. But, if there is even the smallest crack that God can get in through, He will do it and seeds will be planted and one day the casing around your soul of stone falls away and you can truly see. And just like me with my glasses, you are amazed at what you were missing, but are so grateful you finally can see. Have a blessed 4th Sunday of Lent, Catholic Pilgrims.
Continue Reading.png)
.png)
.png)