As a kid, I grew up in the Charismatic renewal that swept its way through the Catholic Church in the late seventies and early eighties. Much of my childhood was spent at prayer meetings with nuns running up and down the aisles, priests speaking in tongues, and a two hour (!) mass healing service. I threw myself into the whole experience. I read the Bible cover to cover when I was in second grade. I tried to imitate my... Read more
—————————————————————————————————————————– For many years, my father was the only saint I’d pray to. St. Paul of West Creek, NJ, pray for me. I then proceeded to call or message him what need was most pressing. My interest in saints began with A Child’s Book of Prayer in Art, a gorgeously illustrated book written by a nun. However, it’s the images I remember more than the words. Since I was a baby, my father was in and out of doctor’s offices and... Read more
Mary, it’s not you. It’s me. I promised that this month, your month, I would try to pray the rosary every night. I know the rosary is powerful. I sense its power even if I don’t pray it. I remember sleeping with my beads under my pillow as a sick child. I still keep a rosary in my car, and my children have rosaries over their beds. For the rosary is not only a tool for cultivating the interior garden... Read more
I laugh when my Facebook feed advertises some inspirational book or other called The Way of the Viking or something like that – I imagine its probable romantic perspective – the usual “be strong and tough and persistent and good things will come to you” line, packaged this time under the image of a figure part historical and part the product of fanciful romance. I laugh because the mysterious Facebook algorithms are trying to pitch it to me who, in spite... Read more
Once, I met a smart young woman who was very interested in what kind of a mother I was. To be honest, she had some concerns. At one point, she actually gave me a quiz of sorts: over a hundred questions covering everything from household television-viewing habits to what I did with socks that had holes in them. I sat down and answered each one carefully, in writing. None of it really bothered me that much, because I knew... Read more
Cajun Country is a unique little hub in southern Louisiana. Nestled in the steroeotyped Southeastern US culture – the Confederate flag waving, Republican-voting, diehard evangelical Protestant Christian South – Acadiana is unquestionably different from its neighbors, largely due to the Roman Catholic faith of its settlers from Canada. Catholic culture pervades, especially in the selection of godparents for a baby, despite religious affiliation. But godparents aren’t unique to Catholicism. Even Harry Potter had a godfather, Sirius Black, and Harry is... Read more
I wear a rosary around my neck and not for a fashion statement. My best friend bought it for me at the Vatican, where the Pope blesses the rosaries. Every time I visit a basilica or cathedral, I dip the beads into the Holy Water. I glued my Pope Francis pilgrim medal from the papal mass in Philadelphia to the cross that binds the beads together. But I rarely pray the rosary. I have some pretty deep conflicts about Marian devotion.... Read more
A Reading from the Gospel According to John When Judas had left them, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself, and God will glorify him at once. My children, I will be with you only a little while longer. I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know... Read more
For the last year my faith has been a gritty, dig in and get dirty in real life affair. I’ve stirred the beans and served the soups and lifted newborn babies from the womb to the breast, dirtying myself with the smell of the gorgeous flock my missionary life here in Costa Rica has generously given me. Like Jacob caring for Laban’s sheep while waiting for his final reward and a return to his homeland (Genesis 29), I’ve let the dirt of... Read more
About seven years ago, I took a job as an assistant minister in Columbus, Ohio. It was my third position in seven years and I could never get comfortable in ministry. Nothing seemed right to me and I felt this constant tugging towards something. If you had asked me what, I couldn’t have told you. I would have insisted everything was fine. Part of my job was to buy the bread and the wine for every service. This church celebrated... Read more
Sick Pilgrim
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