Boundless Confidence

Last night my family went to the Johnson County fair. It was about as midwestern as you can get and a truly delightful time with family. But the highlight of the night for me was the six-year-old girl in front of me and my sister while we were in line for a questionably safe ride.

Like any little girl, she was so free. Our conversation began with her complimenting my earrings, and continued with her complimenting every single thing about my appearance that she could find: “I like your shoes, and your shirt, and your ring, and I LOVE your hair!” She also told me that she loved my freckles. Y’all, those are not freckles on my face. But she was so genuine, so full of kindness, that it was a stunningly beautiful affirmation. There is nothing like the feminine genius present even in the littlest women to empower the world.

We continued talking about her day at the fair, her family, the fact that she went on the scariest ride at the fair and didn’t scream once. And then at a certain point she drew her head a little nearer to me and lowered her voice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course!” I replied, praying that she wasn’t about to tell me her social or the three digits on the back of her dad’s debit card.

“Ever since I was one year old, I’ve dreamed of being a ballerina!”

As she threw her arms in the air and twirled, my heart melted even more than it already had. “Actually, I used to be a ballerina! Do you want me to teach you some ballet right now?”

Her eyes lit up, although she was prompt to inform me that she still didn’t know Swan Lake. We stood in first position, did some port de bras, and transitioned into a first arabesque. “You just did ballet!” I exclaimed, and her face radiated happiness. I gave her a high-five, and then we got on our carnival ride, where in that moment my deepest dream was not to plummet to my death in Johnson County, Indiana.

It was a beautiful encounter for many reasons, but I also think a tender analogy for today’s readings on relational prayer. Honestly, today’s readings are hard. By God’s grace, we hopefully have all experienced direct answers to our intercessory prayer. But we have also asked and seemingly not received, sought and seemingly not found. And this too is grace.

I’m so moved by the first reading, which tells us, “The Lord remained standing before Abraham. Then Abraham drew nearer…” Today we are invited to imitate Abraham’s faithful and persistent intercessory prayer. We must beg for mercy for ourselves and the whole world. We are invited to bring our desires and needs before our Father. But above all, we are invited to imitate Abraham as he draws nearer to the Lord. The Lord remained standing before Abraham because He wanted Him to come closer, to taste deeper intimacy with the Divine One. And His response to Abraham’s nearness was more than Abraham could have ever imagined.

In today’s Gospel we learn the earth-shattering truth that the God who whispers, “Come closer,” is our Father! This Father thirsts for us to draw near like my little friend at the fair yesterday. He wants to hear our lowered voice as we share with Him our wildest dreams and our deepest desires.

Regardless of your age, you have dreams that the Father will mysteriously fulfill. I can’t emphasize enough that prayer is a mystery, as is Divine Providence. Because we are weak, rather dumb children, sometimes we ask for snakes. But because the Lord is a good Father, He can see the fish for which we are actually begging, even without our own knowledge.

I have no idea if this little girl will become a ballerina. But if I, a total stranger, experienced such delight hearing her dreams and desires, how much more does her heavenly Father delight in her dream? I know He will fulfill her dream in a way that makes this sweet girl into a living praise of the Father’s glory.

Yes, today’s readings are scary and at times, very difficult to read without cynicism or discouragement creeping in. But today’s readings are unbelievably beautiful. They are a cause for every person to have the same joy as that little girl.

My life is a continual testament to the reality that Jesus turns our mourning into dancing. Whether you are mourning or dancing today, draw near to the Father. He is waiting to hear and fulfill your dream.

I love you, Lord,
and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into your hands,
without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for you are my Father. – Bl. Charles de Foucauld

A Singular Glance of Tearful Eyes

One year ago on this upcoming Friday, I sat in the grass with Jesus present in the Church behind me. Trying not to hopelessly squint into the setting sun, I shared my witness with a group of middle and high school students on the feast of Mary Magdalen. It was such a tender gift to join with the woman who was almost my Confirmation Saint, sharing the way Christ called us both to turn from grief and deep pain and instead run into the unfathomable joy of the Resurrection.

There’s so much that I could say in preparation for this beautiful feast. And what a glorious week honoring women in the Church! Yesterday was the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, today is the Feast of the Carmelite Martyrs of Compiegne, today’s Gospel is Mary and Martha, and Friday is the Feast of the Mary Magdalen, the Apostle to the Apostles.

But today, I just want to look at Mary Magdalen. Or rather, join the Church who asks in the Easter sequence, “Quid vidisti in via? What did you see upon the way?”

When we see pictures of Mary Magdalen, she’s weeping before the tomb, adoring the risen Christ, gazing at a flame as she holds a skull.1 We see Mary as a Saint, the hero whose love transcended Christ’s death, the audacious woman who charmed St. Therese.

We think of Mary as the woman who was possessed with seven demons and then became the apostle to the apostles. But what about Mary a week after Jesus set her free?

I have no idea what Mary Magdalen’s life looked like immediately following her exorcism and conversion. Maybe her virtue and authenticity was instantaneous. But often when Christ heals, He invites us on a continual journey along the path of grace. Every day, as she was assaulted with memories, either of her own sin or the sin of others, she had a choice to lift her eyes from the dust of her former brokenness and instead stare into the eyes of the One who knew everything and still loved her beyond her deepest dreams for love.

Perhaps every night she was tempted to replay the voices of the evil spirits that had lived inside her, to give in to their wickedness and lies once more. And every night she chose to recall the voice that had called her by name and that continued to call her name every day. Maybe she leaned her ear against her tent so she could overhear His laughter with John, His tenderness toward James.

There were undoubtedly moments when she fell, when she believed that lie that she was unlovable, when she began to listen to Satan again. And after her sin, she came before Him as she did on the first day that He saw her. She was crouched on her knees, hair sprawled across the ground, tears moistening the dirt. Jesus knelt down in front of her, placed His hand beneath her chin, and lifted up her head.

“Mary.”

Jesus could lift up her head. But not even the God of the universe could force her eyes to look into His. This is Mary Magdalen’s choice: to look into Jesus’ eyes. It was that daily choice, that continuous glance, which helped to shape Easter Sunday.

That habitual choice and daily surrender gave her the strength to remain staring into His eyes as they filled with blood while walking to Calvary. She kept her eyes on Him as He hung on the Cross, experiencing His gaze as He croaked, “I thirst.” She kept looking at the rolled back eyes as His mother held His limp body.

Her life had no purpose outside of those eyes. There was no music other than His voice. And so she remained in front of a cold and gray tomb, because where else was she to go?

“Woman, why are you weeping?” He asked her in a veiled voice. This woman bent before a tomb did not know that in that moment, the Song of Songs was made incarnate through her anguish:

The watchmen came upon me,
as they made their rounds of the city:
Have you seen him whom my heart loves?2

His response to her question, her grief, was to speak her name.

“Mary.”

That singular moment made all of the torture of the Passion worthwhile. That turn of the head, rekindling of life in her eyes, mouth agape in wonder and felicity, rendered heaven speechless for joy.

It all began with her choosing to return His gaze. This is what gave the Carmelite nuns of Compiegne the courage and joy to sing even as the guillotine silenced them one by one. This is the One Thing that Mary of Bethany possessed. This is the contemplation perfectly modeled by Our Lady of Mount Carmel, lover of the Silent Word.

This is why we have Adoration chapels all over the world. Regardless of the time, regardless of your emotions or lack thereof, regardless of your state of grace, Jesus Christ gazes through the lattice of a monstrance awaiting you, His Beloved. In Eucharistic Adoration, we are invited to become like Mary Magdalen, presenting ourselves as we truly are to the One who heals, loves, and renews.

When we walk into Adoration, we kneel on both knees and often press our head to the ground in contrite wonder. Then we lift up our head. In that moment, we can choose to keep our eyes downcast, staring into a tomb that is no longer ours to tend. Or we can take courage and stare into His eyes.

In Les Miserables, Victor Hugo writes, “A glance is a spark.” In Song of Songs, the Bridegroom speaks to each soul, crying, “You have ravished my heart…with one glance of your eyes.” With this glance, we invite Christ into our brokenness and into our love, no matter how feeble it is.

And with the beauty of your glance, He can save the world.

1 – Cue Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid, which shows this picture. It’s in your head now and I’m not sorry.

2 – From our first reading on Friday: Song of Songs 3:1-4. On a different musical tangent, I’m pretty sure the musical Les Mis references this passage just before A Little Fall of Rain, when Marius sings, “Have you seen my beloved?” It may be a stretch, but that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. And now maybe you have A Little Fall of Rain stuck in your head instead of Part of Your World. You’re welcome.

Little Essay on Blood

In the evening of July 8, 1897, a young nun was admitted to the infirmary of her convent. It would be her final nest before flying into the heaven already present in her mighty soul, the marriage bed that she shared with her crucified Spouse.

From July 6 to August 5, she coughed up blood every day as tuberculosis ravaged her young lungs. She had offered herself to be consumed by God’s merciful love, and now she intimately shared in Christ’s suffering on the Cross, requiring a minute between each word as she agonizingly suffocated.

This period of haemoptyses was only an early stage in the gloriously pitiable death of Sr. Therese of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face. Yet it is a profound stage: Therese coughed up blood over nearly the entire month of July, the month which the Church dedicates to the Precious Blood.

Shouldn’t this be one of the deepest desires of every Catholic? To be so united to the poetry of the Liturgical Year – Christ’s love song to His Bride – that even our physical sufferings align with the cadence of the Church’s memorials and devotions?

I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly there yet. However, Christ wants to begin molding you and I into living liturgies right now, even before we have attained heroic virtue. I believe that this is one of His specific desires for the month of His Precious Blood.

I don’t want the Mass or the Liturgy of the Hours to be parts of my day or week – I want them to encompass every breath and action of my day. But to even intellectually begin this transformation of my life, I need to think about everyone’s favorite topic for contemplation: blood.

Before you stop reading, no, I am not a psychopath.1 Nor am I asking you to become one. This is literally the topic our Mother Church is asking us to muse over for the next few weeks, in whatever capacity we are able. The Church is born out of Christ’s blood. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.

So grab a cup of coffee, settle in, and let’s talk about blood.2

What does blood have to do with the liturgy, other than the obvious reality that at every Mass, Christ’s blood becomes physically present? Well, blood is ubiquitous to your current phenomenal experience. If there was not blood flowing through your veins right now, you would not be reading this. You would not be breathing. You would be dead. Spilt blood is certainly associated with and the cause of death, but blood itself is a sign of life.

Blood is a sign of life partially because blood is meant to be received. You owe your existence to your mother’s blood that nourished you in the womb for nine months. Without the gift of her body, you would not be here. Similarly, an accident or (physical) trauma victim often requires a blood transfusion. In order to live, they need to receive the gift of a stranger’s blood.

Your salvation hinges on your reception of Christ’s Precious Blood in the Eucharist (John 6:53).3 It is no coincidence that Mary, the immaculate model of receptivity, alongside Mary Magdalen and John, the audacious lovers, were so near when Christ’s blood rained from His dead side and gave birth to the Church. When the Song of Songs urges, “Drink deeply, lovers,4” every member of Christ’s body is urged to drink Jesus’ blood, to receive a physical manifestation of His omnipresent life.

Not only must blood be received, but blood is meant to be shed. Once again, blood is a sign of life – aren’t happy childhoods at least somewhat associated with scratches from tree branches or scraped knees from running too quickly down a hill? I do think there is a certain beauty in blood-stained pointe shoes. To bleed means that you have given completely of yourself, and that is a precious strength of the human person that needs to be safeguarded. Not everything is worth bleeding for.

But how incredible is it that a woman’s body is literally designed to shed blood for her future children? Or that men are built to fight, even to kill, to defend that which they love? Humans are intended to shed their blood for the sake of love.5

And this is at least an inkling of the unfathomable beauty of the liturgy. When we enter the liturgy, we enter the source of life Himself. We receive, we offer, we repeat. At every moment, Christ longs to draw us into the sacrifice of the Mass and the song offered through the Liturgy of the Hours. He is present in the precious laugh of the little boy I nanny. Christ invites me to receive His own presence there in a living room and then offer that gift back for His glory. He is also present when the same little boy spills my coffee all over his parents’ nice leather chair. Once again, he invites me to receive that difficulty and offer it back to Him with joy.

To truly become a living liturgy at every moment of every mundane day won’t be easy though. Christ says that “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent bear it away.”6 By no means is Jesus speaking of physical violence in the name of religion. Nor is He encouraging abuse against our own bodies. But He is saying that to enter His kingdom, we have to be fearless in the war against Hell. With our prudence fully intact, we must battle against our selfishness, violently interrupting our personal agendas for the sake of prayer and charity. We need to fast – always in a way that reverences the human body, the temple of the Holy Spirit.7 And we must violently batter the walls we have placed around our hearts, or constantly battle against the spirits that try to re-erect those soul-crushing walls Christ has already torn down.

Why shed our blood, even if only spiritually? Because Jesus is worth EVERYTHING. You might not be called to physical martyrdom. But young Therese’s glorious passion reminds us that the way of spiritual martyrdom and total union with Christ’s passion and resurrection is attainable for every soul.

You are made to receive His blood. Are you ready for Him to make you new?

You are made to shed your blood. Are you ready to do so?

With a smile I will brave the cannonade
And in your arms, O my Divine Spouse,
With a song I will die on the battlefield
Weapons in hand! - St. Therese of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face

1 – Nor am I a high-functioning sociopath (with your number). Sorry, the Sherlockian in me couldn’t resist the reference.

2 – Pace to the Abiding Together podcast and my fellow listeners – I love you all dearly, I promise.

3 – Just your friendly reminder that Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity are present in every particle of every Host. Before Vatican II, the Priest was the only one to drink the Precious Blood. We have 99 (million) problems because of Covid, but this ain’t one of them.

4 – Song of Songs 5:1

5 – At least in this post-lapsarian (after the Fall) world. These are just ideas, not a painstakingly researched thesis, so feel free to (respectfully) argue with me all you want in the comments.

6 – Matthew 11:12

7 – This Jason Evert podcast episode is the source of my thoughts on this. Definitely worth the listen for both gentlemen and ladies.

The Woman in the Pink Overalls: An Open Letter to the APA

Dear American Psychological Association,

I know that you are probably never going to see this letter. I know that being angry on the internet doesn’t accomplish much, if anything. But I also know that “a threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” And so I am writing to protest the injustice you are committing against my generation.

Last Friday, Roe vs Wade, the Supreme Court decision that allowed for the murder of over 60 million infants and hundreds of women, was overturned. For nearly half a century, this country, founded on the principles of equality and liberty, was shrouded by this pall of federalized, legalized murder. We dwelt in the shadow of death, crying out, “May their blood be upon us and our children” with every tax payment. Our parents had to drive us children by killing centers as if they were the same as any doctor’s office or fast food restaurant. We were told to watch documentaries celebrating the eradication of Down Syndrome from Iceland – through abortion.

Do you remember Avengers: Infinity War, which is centered around half of the population disappearing with a snap of a finger? As I walked out of the movie theater I was confronted with the reality that there were so many people missing from that theater, from my city, because of abortion.

But last Friday, Roe was overturned! The rights of our children have been returned to the states, and we can finally begin the long, arduous battle for effective pro-life legislation and the transformation of a culture.

And what was your response to the removal of America’s death robe, APA?

“This ruling ignores not only precedent but science, and will exacerbate the mental health crisis America is already experiencing…A person’s ability to control when and if they have a child is frequently linked to their socioeconomic standing and earning power. Therefore, restricting access to safe, legal abortions is most likely to affect those living in poverty, people of color, and sexual and gender identity minorities, as well as those who live in rural or medically underserved areas.”

Frank C. Worell, PhD, APA President

There are so many ways I could express the anger that welled up when I saw that you “expressed deep concern and profound disappointment in response to the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision eliminating the constitutional right to abortion.” But for the purposes of this letter, APA, I want to share about my personal encounters with people the day after the Dobbs decision. I want to tell you about the woman in the pink overalls.

I don’t know her name or anything about her. She was at the pro-abortion rally that ended up disrupting our pro-life rally. Despite the tension, everything remained non-violent and we were able to dialogue with some of the pro-abortion protesters afterwards.

She was in pink overall shorts with pink-rimmed glasses, blonde hair in a messy bun. Dangly earrings that, although they said “Bans off our bodies,” made me realize that she and I probably had a shared love for Etsy.

I can’t remember what her sign said, but oh, she was angry. And she was angry about the same things that anger me. We were angry about the frequency of sexual assault and domestic violence, the rampancy of human trafficking and the way it destroys lives and societies.

We are both young women in an increasingly unsafe world. We have so many of the same fears. But of course, fears do not take away the fact that a baby is a baby. Abortion kills a human baby, and therefore, it can never be condoned.

We talked for a while, bouncing back and forth the talking points for both of our sides. I knew I wasn’t going to convert her in that moment. I merely wanted to stand in defense of the truth and in defense of the unborn. But as we continued to talk, I more and more passionately wanted to stand in defense of her. I wanted her to know her inherent worth as a human, the unique gift that her femininity offers, and the way the abortion movement wants to strip her of all dignity.

I knew the conversation was drawing to a close and that she was about to go join the hundreds of people gathering for the pro-abortion march. She said the unborn baby is a clump of cells.

“But when does it stop being a clump of cells?” I asked. “What are you?”

“I’m a clump of cells!” she said forcefully. “You’re a clump of cells, that’s all any of us are!”

APA, this was a real woman. Not a statistic in a study, not a number in a demographic, not an object for pushing political agendas. This was a woman, made in God’s image, beloved by a Father who sent His Son to die for her. This was a woman who I think honestly believed she was advocating for justice, whose heart was clearly longing to be a part of a movement, part of a community. Her heart was made for the Father and it will be restless until it rests in Him. But you tell her she needs abortion for mental health. You tell her that she is nothing more than a clump of cells.

I don’t need a book or study to know that my generation needs help when it comes to mental health. But honestly, how can you expect a generation to have a deep sense of self-worth or lack of anxiety when they have grown up in a society that accepts that even the womb is unsafe? That some lives mean more than other lives and that if you were conceived at an inconvenient time or in a horrific way, or if you have health conditions or disabilities, your life means less than the life next to you?

What did you expect to happen when our country declared that mothers could kill children because they are inconvenient? There are people who have gone their whole lives being told that some lives are disposable. Some lives are not worth living. How do you honestly expect a teenager to not believe the same about their lives? If we are only clumps of cells, why does anyone’s life matter?

In Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote that it would be better for a individual in a democracy to believe that his or her soul passes into the body of a pig after death than to fall into the trap of materialistic atheism. In other words, it is better for an American to believe in a bizarre form of reincarnation than to simply believe that he or she is a clump of cells. And yet materialistic atheism is really the only way that any possible argument in favor of abortion can stand.

APA, you want to safeguard abortion. But the prominence of abortion is what drove the girl in the pink overalls to believe she was nothing more than a clump of cells. It’s what enabled another woman to walk alongside a row of people at the rally and individually tell them, “I hope you die.”

To advocate for the culture of death is to advocate for a generation of despair. But my generation is not simply a mentally ill generation. We are the pro-life generation. We didn’t only survive Roe vs Wade, we outlived Roe vs Wade. By God’s grace, we will begin to build a culture in which every life is understood as a beautiful mystery and a revelation of God’s infinite love.

To every soul reading this open letter, your life is not meaningless. You are good, you are loved, and you are wanted. I am so sorry that our culture has told you anything else.

Sincerely,

Larisa, a.k.a. So much more than a clump of cells

Happy Hearts Day Part 2: Litany of Courage

I have so many dreams as a writer. This post fulfills a dream that for so long seemed too wonderful to even hope for. This is my first piece in post-Roe America.

How beautiful is it that the first day of this new period in American history falls on the Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of Mary? As people fear that women’s rights are being trampled, the heart of a woman is honored throughout the world.

Although yesterday was the day for which I’ve been longing and praying for as long as I can remember, it was also a day that I had frankly been anticipating with some cowardice. There are lots of angry people in the U.S. right now and I honestly don’t know what the headlines will be by the time this post shows up in your inbox.

But lately I’ve been deeply moved by Mary’s identity as warrior maiden. At Fatima, she promised, “In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph.” The battle for the end to abortion is far from over, but we know that our mother will lead us to victory.

As we rejoice in the triumph of yesterday’s decision and press forward in advocating for total protection for the unborn and their mothers, I want to present a Litany of Courage that asks the intercession of the Immaculate Heart. Come, Holy Spirit!

Lord, have mercy on us……..Lord, have mercy on us

Christ, have mercy on us…….Christ, have mercy on us

Lord, have mercy on Us……Lord, have mercy on us

Father, Author of all life…..we adore you

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus…….we adore you

Holy Spirit whose Love casts out fear….we adore you

Response: Give us your heart

Mary, whose immaculate heart was free from sin…Give us your heart

Mary, whose heart reflected the beauty of the Triune God…

Mary, whose heart was radiant with purity…

Mary, whose heart was fearfully and wonderfully made…

Mary, whose heart began to beat at six weeks in Ann’s womb…

Mary, whose heart obeyed when the angel said, “Do not be afraid…”

Mary, whose heart said yes to an unplanned pregnancy…

Mary, who crushed Satan’s head with her “Yes”…

Mary, whose heart is a warrior heart…

Mary, whose heart pumped blood to the unborn Jesus…

Mary, whose heart believed that what was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled…

Mary, whose heart did not waver as she gave birth in abject poverty…

Mary, whose heart broke at the screams of the Holy Innocents and at their mother’s wails…

Mary, whose heart trusted when its piercing was foretold…

Mary, whose heart remained at peace even when she did not understand…

Mary, whose heart sacrificed everything for love of her neighbor at Cana…

Mary, whose heart rejoiced in the Eucharist…

Mary, whose heart remained united to Jesus in His agony…

Mary, whose heart consoled Jesus during His Passion…

Mary, whose heart felt every scourge, thorn, and nail…

Mary, whose heart forgave those who taunted her…

Mary, whose heart forgave her child’s executioners…

Mary, whose heart was pierced, yet unwavering as she cradled her son’s dead body…

 Mary, whose heart overflowed with unspeakable joy when she beheld her risen Son…

Mary, whose heart received and nurtured the Apostles…

Mary, whose heart beats in heaven…

Response: Immaculate Heart, triumph

Over all American hearts…Immaculate Heart, triumph

Over all fearful hearts…

Over hearts fearing persecution…

Over hearts fearing their safety…

Over hearts of Supreme Court Justices and their families…

Over hearts of pregnancy resource center employees and all who work in the pro-life movement…

Over hearts of clergy and religious…

Over hearts who are called to defend the Eucharist…

Over hearts that are lukewarm or complacent about abortion…

Over hearts who have been led to fear an America without abortion…

Over hearts who do not know the sacredness of human life…

Over hearts of abortionists…

Over hearts of mothers who have suffered abortion…

Over hearts of fathers who have suffered abortion…

Over hearts of the young pro-life generation…

Over hearts of the generation who fought and continues to fight…

Over hearts of all legislators…

Oh Blazing Heart…lead us into battle.

Oh Pierced Heart…break our hearts for all that has been lost through legalized abortion.

Oh Crowned Heart…lead us to victory.

Amen.

Happy Hearts Day Part 1: Hidden in the Rupture

Does anyone actually like Valentine’s Day?

To quote Jane Austen, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that every single or taken man or woman, regardless of fortune, age, or creed, does not actually enjoy corporate exploitation of one of the deepest mysteries of the universe for the sake of jacked up prices for flavorless chocolate, in the name of a Saint who is no longer even listed in the Roman Missal.”

That’s how Pride and Prejudice starts, right?

I don’t actually hate Valentine’s Day.1 It truthfully gives the Catholic Church a unique platform to share the good news of Christ’s love and the Christian call to total self-gift with a secular world. Plus, I’ve always been a sucker for puns, so Valentine cards are a pretty sweet deal.

But if we really want a day to celebrate love and give chocolate to loved ones, there is no denying that today and tomorrow are the true Hearts Days.2 Today is the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus and tomorrow is the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

For starters, this Solemnity always falls on a Friday. So today, you can eat bacon on a Friday. This has been your PSA. Bacon for Jesus.

But all joking aside, today is when we ask the terrifying question: Where would we be without the Sacred Heart? Today’s Solemnity is really a liturgical immersion in the mystery of the Incarnation: God has a human body, and that changes everything.

The heart that we adore today first began to beat after Jesus was in Mary’s womb for about six weeks. Could Mary see its gentle patter as she gazed on her newborn in a manger of straw?

That little heart beat wildly as He ran through the streets of Nazareth at play. Joseph felt it against his chest as the little boy squeezed His arms around him. Divine love throbbed in Nazareth, veiled by the ribs of a tiny child.

When did the Sacred Heart first break? Was He shoved to the ground by friends? Did He witness Roman soldiers abducting a child? Perhaps that first heartbreak was at Joseph’s death. Did Jesus lay His head on His foster father’s chest, listening to Joseph’s heartbeat until it ceased?

Where would we be without the Sacred Heart, without a God who has taken on human emotion? Of course Jesus was perfect, and this means that His emotions were never disordered like ours so frequently are. But we know that Jesus rejoiced as he praised the Father. He wept before the tomb of Lazarus. Before His death, he said, “My soul is sorrowful, even unto death.” When Jesus offers His Sacred Heart to us, He offers His whole human and divine self. He offers the sweet little moments that we can only imagine on this side of heaven: the lullabies from Mary, the inside joke with a neighbor friend. He offers the little heartbreaks: the rejection, the name-calling, the loneliness.

He offers the unspeakable joys as well: the moment Jairus’ daughter opened her eyes, the moment John’s net dropped, the beauty of the repentant woman’s tears. But He also offers the horrific anguish. To follow Christ, we must embrace all of Him and all of His Cross.

I recently received a beautiful penance in Confession: “Go and ask Jesus for Him to give you His heart.”

I know I should have been skipping out of the Confessional with excitement. But that prayer revealed so much of my poverty and fear. To receive Jesus’ heart, which many scientists believe ruptured on the Cross? A heart that is completely selfless and only pours itself out in total surrender? A heart that knows and has felt the abyss of agony within the human experience?

I am a member of the Body of Christ. It is not enough to have His heart. I must become His heart.

For the last couple years the Lord has invited me to imagine myself crawling into His dead, lifeless heart that ruptured on the Cross. So often we feel like Sam Gamgee at the end of The Return of the King, torn in two. But the King Himself has had His heart torn in two. He invites us to place ourselves and all of our heartache, laughter, and faith between those ruptured pieces.

But Sam is assured, “You will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be.” At the Resurrection God mended His own heart and made it solid and whole. In that moment when Christ’s perfect heart, Love Itself, beat once more, all of the wounds and heartbreak of the human race were glorified and made new.

In heaven today, a human heart beats for you. That heart is often depicted with the spear wound still present. This glorified wound, this cleft in a heart that was anything but rock, is your eternal home.3

Sweet heart of Jesus, may we hold nothing back from the fire of your love.

1 – I do, however, tend to hate raspberry and cherry flavoring, and the way it just descends on dreary February America like the 11th plague simply because we fell for a marketing scheme is just twisted.

2 – Married couples, can you make this a trend? Move however y’all would usually celebrate Valentine’s Day to the Feast of the Sacred Heart? #justiceforCyrilandMethodius

3 – Song of Songs 2:14

When Words Fail: Abortion, Dante, and Corpus Christi

O reader, do not ask of me how I
grew faint and frozen then - I cannot write it:
all words would fall far short of what it is. (Dante, Inferno 33.22-24)

With these words, Dante the Poet begins to recollect his encounter with Satan, frozen in ice at the bottom of Hell. Dante’s Satan is a mockery of all that is Good, True, and Beautiful: He has three faces in mockery of the Trinity, large wings that parody the Holy Spirit, and from his six eyes, “tears gus[h] together with a bloody froth” reminiscent of the Blood and Water which flowed from Christ’s side on the Cross (33.54).

But perhaps the most famous detail about the depiction of Satan in Inferno is the fact that he eternally chews on and “t[ears] to bits” Judas, Brutus, and Cassius (33.56). This act of gnashing and grinding human flesh is Satan’s horrific replication of the Eucharist and of Christ’s summons to eat His flesh and drink His blood.

Through this depiction of Satan, Dante the Poet reveals that Satan is not capable of creating anything new. His most diabolical features are only crude illustrations of the divine mysteries. Satan cannot create; he can only twist truth and beauty. But he is a master of deception and his lies are so ugly that the Poet cannot even put them in words: “all words would fall short of what it is” (33.24).

Why on earth did I just make you read about Dante’s Commedia in June, 2022? Because I’ve spent over an hour now trying to find words to share just a little bit of what my heart is feeling as we anticipate the likely overturning of Roe vs Wade. The theme of inexpressibility, or adyneton, is a crucial theme throughout Dante’s Commedia. How do we little humans try to express the beauty, sorrow, and wonder for which we have no words, but only a gasp or tremor of the heart?

There are so many thoughts and emotions flying about our country right now. I teared up with joy last semester when my professor shared the news about the likely overturning of Roe. But I have also broken down over the atrocities committed against pro-lifers, pregnancy resource centers, and Catholic churches. The reality is that we don’t know what is going to happen for the rest of the Summer. And while this is SUCH an exciting time, the moment for which we have been waiting, working, and praying, it’s also a very uncertain and tense time.

And so, like any writer, I want to find words. I want to expose the way Satan has twisted the beauty of women and lied to them that they need abortion to succeed. I want to cry out again and again that abortion brutally murders an innocent baby. I want to reassure women who have had abortions that the Catholic Church does not hate them, but instead invites them to rest in the arms of an infinitely merciful Father. I want to do anything possible to protect the Eucharist and to make reparation for the sacrileges that have been committed in the last couple months.

But words often feel rather useless. So I turn to the Author of Life, to the Word Himself. What is His response to this dark, broken world, so twisted by the lies of Satan?

“This is my body.”

Today is the Feast of Corpus Christi, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. As Catholics, we believe that the host consecrated by the priest is Jesus’ body, blood, soul, and divinity. But I don’t think it’s an accident that the original name of the feast day is merely Corpus Christi – the body of Christ.

The world claims that the Catholic Church hates women and wants to control their bodies. But today the entire Church celebrates that God Himself has a body, even to this day. Through His life and death, Jesus revealed the gift of the human body. He comes to us at every Mass by touching our bodies with His own divine flesh.

At every Mass, He says, “This is my body,” and gives completely of Himself to every soul and every body of communicants. He holds nothing back because He loves you, the one reading this right now. He allows Himself to become completely weak, utterly helpless. To reach you, He must be carried down from the altar, placed by another on your hands or tongue. In the Eucharist, the almighty God is completely dependent on His creation. Because He loves you.

He has gazed on you with an everlasting love and chosen to be locked in a tabernacle until the end of time. Because He desires intimacy with you now, because He thirsts for you and the love that only you can offer. He is completely immobile so that in your moments of paralyzing fear or anxiety, you are not paralyzed alone. He is completely silent so that when you felt utterly alone and voiceless, He can be voiceless alongside you.

Even in their final excruciating moments on this earth, the silent, abandoned aborted are not abandoned. Because He is here.

Come what may this Summer, He will be here on the altar, in the tabernacle, in the monstrance. As the Church, the Body of Christ, is persecuted throughout the world, He is still here. He knew that He would be strewn over the altar by the thieves who stole the Brooklyn tabernacle. He knew that He would be horrifically mocked and abused by those who desecrate the Eucharist. He knew that so many would ignore Him during Communion, deny His true presence, leave Him alone and unloved. And yet He chose to give Himself to you in the Eucharist. He will never cease choosing to hand Himself over for you.

Satan can mock the Eucharist all he wants to. Peter Kreeft writes, “Abortion is the Antichrist’s demonic parody of the eucharist. That’s why it uses the same holy words, ‘This is my body,’ with the blasphemous opposite meaning.” Satan can lead people to hate the Church, to commit atrocities against men, women, and children, to desecrate the Eucharist. But Christ assures us that “the ruler of this world has been condemned” (John 16:11).

Dante does not only experience adyneton before Satan, but before the vision of God Himself in Paradise. As he recounts the act of beholding “the Love that moves the sun and the other stars” (Paradiso 33.145), the Poet sighs, “How incomplete is speech, how weak, when set / against my thought!” (Paradiso 33.145, 33.121-122). I believe that this inexpressible awe is Christ’s invitation to us on the Feast of Corpus Christi. He calls us to shift our gaze from the horrors of Satan and onto the Beauty of the little white host. He calls us to fall on our knees before the Prime Mover made immobile in the Sacrament of Love.

Jesus invites us to listen for His voice and then gasp at the symphony of silence emanating from the tabernacle. For His Eucharistic love is so unfathomable that audible words cannot express it.

2021 in Literary Review

2021 has been an insane year. I started out as a trainee with Cincinnati Ballet, went through a major transformation and healing through Totus Tuus, and threw myself into the intellectual world at University of Dallas. Oh, and I’m minoring in political philosophy now, so that’s just one example of how many weird things Jesus has brought into my life.

But whether I was a dancer, missionary, or student, there was always a book nearby. Below is a list and short review of most of the books I read for fun over the last year. Hopefully this list will provide you with at least one new literary friend for 2022! Enjoy and be sure to comment with any book recommendations you have for me!

Fiction

  1. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

I still own the copy that I annotated in my literary analysis class when I was in eighth grade. Something that makes this novel such a joy is the way that my relationship with the book changes as I grow older. This is a dramatic yet sincere story of a young woman maturing in life, love, and spirituality, all of which are informed by the educational forces in her life.

2. Turtles All the Way Down, John Green

It’s definitely a step down from Jane Eyre, but I devoured this teen mystery and drama in approximately 24 hours. Set in my corner of Indianapolis, the novel depicts suffering in a raw, yet redemptive way that leaves the reader feeling both seen and hopeful.

3. Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis

This book. Any time I’m suffering or feel lost, I open to a page in this book and the Lord finds a way to speak to me. This was my second time through Till We Have Faces from cover to cover and it’s incredible to begin to realize the depth that lies in this seemingly simple fairy tale. Dedicated to his wife who passed away from cancer shortly after their marriage, C.S. Lewis uses the myth of Cupid and Psyche to delve into the pain of the human condition that we’re too frightened to explore for ourselves. He ultimately reveals that Love Himself makes all things new.

4. The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky

This Russian tragedy’s chaotic structure mirrors the chaos of fallen human nature. Following the sickly but pure-hearted Prince Myshkin, the novel explores the ways that people combat against and succumb to the vices in society. It is filled with political and religious commentary, conveyed through moving characters in whom you see yourself, both to your delight and dismay.

There are layers to The Idiot that went way over my head and will require many re-readings. But I picked up this novel because it’s where we get the famous quote, “Beauty will save the world.” And if that quote is true, this haunting and clever story is certainly helping to save the world.

5. Island of the World, Michael D. O’Brien

Where to even begin? If you’ve read Island of the World, you know exactly what I mean. Perhaps the best way to describe this 815-page emotional rollercoaster is through an excerpt from the author’s afterword:

“Wherever you may be in this world, please know that I presumed to write about your memory, your blood, your loss, as if it were my own. . .In eternity, we will know fully; in Him, we will see face to face. Then we shall understand even as we are understood, and love even as we are loved.”

O’Brien seeks to depict the entirety of human suffering in a single volume. This novel, which begins in the Balkans in 1933, depicts the atrocity of war and Communism with painfully graphic violence and devastating emotional agony. But it also portrays the miraculous qualities of love and grace, the way that our first human love brings hope and spurs us on to an encounter with the merciful One who has first loved us. While memory can be traumatic, it also has a healing power. Island of the World reveals that in a culture of dehumanization and demonic evil, the most effective revolution lies in beauty and forgiveness.

6. The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis

I haven’t picked up this classic in about four years, but it’s just as earth-shattering now as it was then. As the name might suggest, this short book is a series of letters written from the demon Screwtape to his nephew and apprentice Wormwood. As our little habits and daily vices are scrutinized by the enemy, Lewis unapologetically calls out the reader. But his description of our heavenly Father’s compassion renders impotent any attempts of our tempters to draw us into discouragement or despair.

7. Leaf by Niggle, J.R.R. Tolkien

Pairing this short story with The Screwtape Letters would make for a powerful examination of conscience. Tolkien’s allegorical autobiography depicts the untimely trip of an eccentric and in many ways mediocre man and artist. This story captures the power of the arts with piercing beauty and honesty. But it’s that second voice in the hospital room that makes all the difference.

8. The Song at the Scaffold, Gertrud von Le Fort

I’m rarely so quick to re-read a book (My first time through The Song at the Scaffold was in Spring, 2020). But in my politics class this past semester, we spent a lot of time discussing the concepts of revolution, anxiety, and dying while singing. So I couldn’t help but re-read this novella as part of my Advent reading. Le Fort’s simple writing style startles you into absorbing the complex themes of the story. From the Nativity, to fearful people, to the Agony in the Garden, to a rioting mob, The Song at the Scaffold causes the reader to never quite see the mysteries of Christ’s life, and therefore all human life, in the same way.

9. The Loved One, Evelyn Waugh

You may think that you have a twisted sense of humor, but do you have a rom-com-turned-tragedy-set-in-a-mortuary-and-pet-cemetery-where-people-flirt-by-sending-smiling-corpses twisted sense of humor? Regardless of how you answered that question, this novella is a bizarrely delightful read.

It’s hard to believe that this is the same author who penned Brideshead Revisited, but Waugh’s dry humor and elegant prose gives him away. Subtitled An Anglo-American Tragedy, this movie makes fun of Americans and British alike, offering social commentary in a sobering and unforgettable way. Be warned, you will never read The Lake Isle of Innisfree by Yeats through the same lens.

Non-Fiction

10. Happy Are You Poor, Thomas Dubay

I love Dubay precisely because of his radical pursuit of Christ’s command to surrender everything for the sake of divine intimacy. But that doesn’t make his writing easy or comfortable to read. This book takes an honest look at Christ’s commands and warnings about material wealth. I don’t agree with everything Dubay writes in Happy Are You Poor, but for the most part I have had to acknowledge that it’s not the writer who needs to change. It’s me.

This book is a game-changer. It’s one you want to wrestle with, take to prayer, and discuss with others who can offer advice about how to apply Dubay’s advice to your life. Ultimately though, this book’s message is one of deep joy. You don’t want to miss out on that.

11. Unplanned, Abby Johnson

I’ve been involved in the pro-life movement pretty much since birth. But it can be easy to forget the horror story that comes to life every day in abortion clinics. This book was a powerful, painful reminder of the atrocity of abortion and I was sobbing within the first couple pages. But it also reminds the reader of the humanity of those in the abortion industry. So many people on the other side of the fence honestly desire to help women – they’ve just fatally deluded themselves. Abby’s testimony portrays humanity at its worst and best, as well as the compassionate God who works all things for good and is always ready to forgive the most grievous sins.

12. Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge

Every time I see this book for a low price, I buy it so I can give it to as many people as possible. I KNOW I call so many things life-changing, but I really, really do mean it! Captivating provides a beautiful, entertaining, personal exposition of the Christian understanding of femininity. The writers combine testimonies, classic fiction, and Scriptural exegesis to “unveil the mystery of a woman’s soul.” It’s written in such a way that regardless of your age, there is something to gain from it. I don’t endorse every sentence or concept in the book, but overall, this book is one that every Christian woman really ought to read (and then re-read).

13. The Dialogue, St. Catherine of Siena

This Lent was all about the Father, so I decided to read St. Catherine’s transcript of her conversations with the Father. This work has everything in it: the call to repentance and self-denial, the stages of prayer and the spiritual life, divine justice, and unfathomable divine love for every soul. It can be a little hefty and hard to get through at times, but this spiritual classic is a truly beautiful source of grace.

“The love of Christ embraces all without exception. Fire of love, crazy over what You have made. Oh, divine Madman.”

14. The Story of a Soul, St. Therese of Lisieux

Y’all know I could write an entire book about this book. I actually already wrote about my reflections on this most recent read of Therese’s autobiography, so I’ll keep it short. Therese has honestly been the champion of my 2021 and I love her so much. I know parts of the book can be difficult to get through and maybe y’all aren’t besties yet. But just wait. She’ll sneak her way into your heart, one way or another.

15. Belonging, Nora Krug

This multi-media book combines text, collage, photography, and drawing to depict the author’s journey to discover her German family’s history and involvement in WWII. Krug’s collection of various physical objects to convey a deeply personal story is captivating, as is her poetic writing style and inquisitive, honest heart. It led to many questions for me about home, history, family, and how it all combines to create the person I am today.

Short Stories (One sentence summaries)

16. Parker’s Back, Flannery O’Connor

In a matter of pages, O’Connor uses a story about a man who would qualify for a My Strange Addiction episode on tattoos to confront the reader with questions about beauty, art, the thirst of the human heart, and the undeniable presence of the only One who can quench that thirst.

17. The Red Masque of Death, Edgar Allan Poe

Very awkward to read during a pandemic, but it’s so good it’s worth it.

18. The Black Cat

It’s amazing and I love Poe, but don’t read it right after your family buys a cat who is obsessed with you even though you don’t like him.

Silent Light: O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God.

God is with us.

Infinity invisible: He is asleep in the dark waters of a virgin’s womb, so small that His presence is only given away by a swelling belly.

So quiet, so still: The valley is loud with voices, animal hooves, and the creak of carts as the caravan journeys to Bethlehem. But the Word who spoke this valley into existence practices breaths that cannot be heard.

Love is fragile: The Prime Mover of Creation kicks His tiny legs and moves His little arms. But that kick sends His mother into raptures of love.

Yes, God is with us. The Creator has stepped into creation. The lover is encircled by the beloved. His son and foster father guides him to Bethlehem, where human eyes will behold God and not die.

The shepherds are in the fields like they are every day, barely noticing the clear blue sky that overshadows them. They have no idea that tomorrow night, that sky will be ablaze with light and their own hearts will leap like lambs.

Herod is pacing in his palace, his mind overcome with fear of how he could be overthrown. He does not know that nearby, the King of Kings is carried on a donkey with an immaculate womb for a chariot.

Inside Bethlehem, a woman sobs as she prepares her dead baby for burial. A man stands on a roof, his hope caving in. A slave child weeps for the parents she has not seen in years. They cannot see it, but God is with them. He comes to open heaven so that mother and child can embrace again. He is here to strengthen the quivering heart and tell the despairing soul that his life is necessary. He is here to weep with the abused and to promise justice and mercy.

He is here in this dark, grief-stricken world. He is here in the world that will seek His life from its very beginning. He is here, with closed eyes that will cry, with hands that will be pierced, with a heart that will burst.

And He is here with infinite love that shatters death’s darkest schemes. He is here with a quiet presence that cannot be feared, only received. He is here as a fragile member of the human race – perfection enclosed in vulnerable skin. He is Emmanuel.

Tomorrow, He will come. Regardless of the lies you have believed, the sin you have committed, the poverty of your life, He will come. He will come into the ugliness of a cave, redeeming the darkest night with His purifying fire. Tomorrow, He will be too weak to speak – but He will tell you that you are unimaginably loved. His presence will cry out that in this world, you will have trouble. You will suffer, you will be sick, your heart will break. But take courage, dear heart. For tomorrow He comes to suffer with you, to be sick with you, to weep with you. And He also comes to bind up your wounds, to heal your illness, to wipe away your tears. Tomorrow, Love will conquer the world. He is here.

Dancing in Prison: O King of Nations

O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.

If there were any two who understood that Jesus is “the only joy of every human heart,” it was the Blessed Virgin and John the Baptist. For the last two days, the Gospel has proclaimed the Visitation, recounting John’s dance within Elizabeth’s womb and Mary’s victorious song of exultation.

But thirty years later, after John has prepared the way for the Messiah, he finds himself in prison. The one who sang so faithfully of the liberation Jesus would bring is behind bars. Upon hearing the mighty deeds Jesus is working, John sends his disciples to Jesus asking, “Are you the one who is to come or should we look for another?”1

I think so much of our lives are spent like John, looking at Jesus in our poverty and desolation, saying, “Jesus, I know that you are the only joy of my heart, the only thing that brings meaning to life. I know that you are faithful, I know that nothing is impossible for you. So why am I still imprisoned? Why haven’t you kept your promise?”

Jesus’ response to John’s disciples is one of conviction and compassion: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”

John, the “voice of one crying out in the desert,” knows Isaiah through and through. In this response, Jesus synthesizes four different passages from Isaiah prophesying the deeds of the Savior who is to come. One of these passages is the first part of Isaiah 61:1, “He has sent me to bring good news to the afflicted.” But he doesn’t finish the verse which promises that the Messiah is sent “to proclaim liberty to the captives, release to prisoners.” Instead, Jesus says, “And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”2

Jesus is the Messiah who releases prisoners. But His ways are not our ways. John would not meet the one to whom he had dedicated his whole life until the two met in the Kingdom of heaven – one released from pain by a sword and the other on a cross.

When Jesus comes in a few days, he comes as the Messiah and Savior for whom our hearts so desperately long. But His plan for our liberation and healing is too marvelous for our little, fickle minds to comprehend. Sometimes He comes miraculously as He did for St. Therese’s “grace of Christmas.” But more often than not, He comes with the reminder that this world is not our home and that the holidays do not begin until heaven.

But regardless of the way that He answers our prayers, He will come. St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross writes, “And when he tells me through the mouth of the prophet that he stands more faithfully at my side than my father and my mother, yea that he is love itself, then I begin to understand how rational is my trust in the arm that carries me and how foolish is my fear.” This is the radical trust to which John was invited by His savior. I think that upon hearing Jesus’ words, John danced in prison. For the only joy of his heart was here. The King’s presence makes all things bearable.

1 – This story is found in Matthew 11:2-6

2 – I learned about this from one of Meg Hunter-Kilmer’s Advent podcasts. Go give the Hobo for Christ podcast a listen!