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It’s a gruesome painting, isn’t it?
I first saw this hanging in Thomas Jefferson’s house and I thought it such a strange painting to have in your home.
The painting symbolizes two things to me.
1. Destruction is what happens when people live for themselves and cannot stand to hear any kind of reprimand.
The thing that pricks the conscience must be exterminated for people who want to remain in their sin.
Herodias could not stand to have John the Baptist tell her that her marriage to Herod was sinful. Because she wanted to live how she wanted to live, she obsessed over ruining his life. The first chance she got, she took it and it was to silence him forever.
Innocence will always be attacked by those that are self-serving and steeped in sin. Why? Because innocence shines a light on their darkness and they don’t want to let it go.
2. This is the reality of a life lived for Christ. Faithful Christians may not suffer the extreme of John the Baptist, but the light of Christ within us will be a problem for those who worship themselves and love their sin.
It’s one thing to sin and hate it, it’s another to sin and love it. When you love it, you seek to destroy anything that tries to remind you of your enslavement to it.
While this isn’t the most uplifting reality about Christianity, it does create a line in the sand. We either live for Christ or we live for the world.
If the world is patting you on the back and leaves you alone, you can be sure that you look more like the world than you do Christ.
So, we must have courage to live like John the Baptist, Catholic Pilgrims.
Live the Faith boldly and travel well this Thursday.
St. John the Baptist, pray for us!
It'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 ReadingToday's small town church is St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Somerset, Ohio--the oldest Catholic Church in Ohio. My family has been stationed in Ohio twice. It was our first duty station in 2002-2006 and then again in 2018-2020. The first time we moved there, I was not Catholic, but it is where my middle daughter was baptized Catholic. My heart started to soften there. When my husband and I got orders to Ohio the first time, neither one of us was ecstatic. Ohio seemed pretty normal and not thrilling like some other possible places. But, the Lord knows what He is doing, because it was enough like Kansas to not feel too foreign for me and it was only 10 hours from home. It was in Ohio, that I finally surrendered to the military life and "fixed my face" by changing my attitude. I initially wanted my husband to do his four years and get out. Here we are 24 years later and I'm so glad Dustin stayed in. Our second time being stationed in Ohio, I was Catholic, which meant, I wanted to see all the churches. Goodness, does Ohio have some stunning ones. Just in Dayton alone, there are plenty of Catholic Churches to keep you busy. At St. Joseph's in Dayton, there are my favorite stained-glass windows of the archangels over the altar. Cincinnati, also, has so many beauties. I went on my first silent retreat near Cincinnati at Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Center. One of my all time favorite churches in the US is in Cincinnati at Old St. Mary's. There is also the Maria Stein Shrine which houses the second largest collection of holy relics in the US located in Maria Stein, Ohio. I have not been to our featured church, but, of course, now I must see it someday. It was founded in 1818 by German Catholics, which were led by Dominicans. This church was completed in 1848. I believe their pastor today is still from the Dominican order. It sits outside of Somerset, just out in the country, looking very serene and peaceful. So, if ever cutting across Ohio on I70, and you have time, take a detour and see this quaint country church. Live the faith boldly and travel well, Catholic Pilgrims.
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