The Sacrament of Reconciliation and How going to Confession Heals.

I've seen non-Catholics make comments in reference to going to confession and how it's one of those "works" things and how this proves that Catholicism is a "works-based" religion. From the outside looking in, I suppose it looks like we Catholics can sin to our hearts content and then just go to confession and get clean and then sin again. My Atheist sister made that sort of snide remark and I had to correct her and explain that if a Catholic goes to confession without intending on changing their behavior then they would be lying and not getting any benefit from it.

My answer to other Christians who scoff at the idea of Catholics going to confession is, don't knock it until you've tried it. Confession is not some license to sin again.  As a matter of fact, not nearly enough Catholics take advantage of this wonderful Sacrament. It's a terrible shame because the graces you receive from going to confession are indescribable. Yes, it's hard to admit you've done wrong to a virtual stranger and sometimes, the priest isn't a virtual stranger. In a smaller parish they may even know your name. It doesn't matter either way. They are standing in for Jesus and acting in His name and that's who we're really confessing our sins to. The priest acts as a conduit of His graces. Receiving these graces is very healing and it has to be experienced to understand the magnitude of it's power.

Here's just one example of what I mean by this Sacraments power to heal. Several months ago, as I came to realize that my toddler son was on the Autism spectrum, I was in deep turmoil and not at all at peace. I was angry and in despair and to say I wasn't handling it with grace would be an understatement. I dragged myself to confession, talked to the priest, confessed my sins and then left and had an overwhelming supernatural kind of peace wash over me. Nothing changed. The priest didn't say anything enlightening. My son's condition didn't change. The circumstances were exactly the same after going to confession as they were before. But my attitude was completely different. I suddenly was handling it. I wasn't steeped in darkness. I felt peace and joy. There's no other reason other than the fact that I went to confession. My problems suddenly don't seem so overwhelming and insurmountable. I know of others who experience the same thing. So I take advantage of this Sacrament because I know it's doing something for me. Something that is supernatural and beyond my human comprehension. It's healing me. It's healing my wounded heart. All the puss and gunk gets washed off and disinfected and wrapped in fresh bandages. The wounds get redressed and overtime are completely healed. This is what going to confession does for me. Little by little, my soul is being healed and I'm better able to handle the crosses I have to carry. I have strength for the journey. This is how the Sacrament of Reconciliation heals and I'd be insane not to take advantage of this free healthcare. 

Why I need Religion

There's a video that's gone completely viral called Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus. There's been a ton of responses and especially good Catholic responses. So I won't go into a theological response to the video because it's been more than sufficiently responded to. Instead I'll just speak from my own experience of why I don't just love religion but I need religion. This religion: Catholicism.

You see, I come from a none religious background. I was baptized Catholic for mostly cultural and sentimental reasons and that was the last time my family stepped foot into a church unless it was for a wedding or funeral. Yet this simple act of  baptism put an indelible seal on me as a child of God and a seed was planted. I hungered for God and established a relationship with Him very early on in life. I had a diary which I wrote to Him. I was a bit fatalistic and had lots of fears. But I had no guidance. I was on my own and eventually dabbled in New Age and Occult. I unwittingly invited evil into my life and I witnessed it possibly destroy someone I deeply cared about.
Ultimately, I genuinely desired a relationship with God and even with Jesus but I saw many of things that Mr. Bethke saw and frankly, those things kept me away. There was a time in my life when I would have totally related to Mr. Bethke's message. But as a life long spiritual nomad, I was always searching for truth. I finally found it in Catholicism. I finally got over myself and realized, I'm not perfect and so I shouldn't expect anyone else to be perfect other than God. I had to do the unthinkable and conform. I had to let go of control which I didn't really have to begin with. Catholicism forces me to depend only on God and gives me the tools and a conduit of grace to do that. When I go to Mass, I'm not dependent on how good the priest's homily is. He isn't able to make himself all that important. Our religion dictates that he has the Liturgy to follow and he can't stray from that. The focus is always on Jesus. It doesn't matter how bad the music is or how uninspired the priest is. He could be speaking in Spanish for all I care. I'm there for one reason alone. For Jesus. I get to receive Him, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.

I need this religion because I need to know that when I sin, once I hear the words "I absolve you from your sins..." that means I really am forgiven and I don't have to guess or wonder. I am free. My guilt is removed. Trust me, as a spiritual nomad, I felt guilt. This religion frees me from it.

I need this religion because when things are really bad I can go to an Adoration Chapel and spend time with Jesus. I can tell Him all my woes. I can cry. I can beg. I can just be quiet and feel His presence. I know that wherever there's a Catholic Church, there He is whether I "feel" it or not. (By the way, as far as big fancy Churches and Cathedrals go, why shouldn't Jesus be surrounded in the finest most beautiful surroundings? If you were building a house for God, would you put Him in a shed?)

I need this religion because when I struggle I can take comfort in the lives of the Saints who's solutions to life's problems were otherworldly and no easy quick fixes that promised something that couldn't be fulfilled. Their only solution was complete and utter dependence on God and living a life of heroic virtue up to the point of death and martyrdom. And they were witnesses of much joy and peace in spite of their hardships. Their promise was beyond this world. They always point to God and I need their friendship now as I know they are in heaven and are able to hear my prayers and take them up to God. I know they are there because of the canonization process which takes into account miraculous events as a sign from God that they are indeed partaking in the Heavenly banquet.

I need this religion because when I'm suffering, I take comfort in that Crucifix where the Lord is up there in a display of complete unconditional love for humanity. Nothing says I love you like the Crucifix does.

I need this religion because I need stability and clear cut answers on the biggest moral issues of the day and only one place offers that unchanging TRUTH no matter how unpopular and counter-cultural.

I need this religion because it was founded by the man on the Crucifix and He promised the gates of hell would not prevail against His Church and I believe Him. He started this Church and He said unless you eat His flesh and drink His blood, you have no life within you. By golly then, I will do what He says and eat His flesh and drink His blood. I will put my pride and ego away and humble myself  and do what He says. I trust in Him which means I HAVE to trust in His Church and the religion He started. Otherwise, that wouldn't be trust and you can't have a real relationship without TRUST.

I need this religion because I NEED JESUS. I need Him now more than ever. He's the only one that has brought me peace and comfort in difficult times and it's been through His Church that I've obtained these graces He offers through His sacraments. I experience joy when I should be feeling sorrow and I experience peace in a world of unrest.

I'm not going to let other sinners get in between my relationship with Jesus. I'm not going to let corrupt religious leaders get in the way between my relationship with Jesus. If one of those corrupt individuals is holding Jesus in his hands, nothing will stop me from receiving Him. How great our God is to not let any corrupt human stop us from receiving Him and His graces. I need those graces and I can only get all of them in one place. My religion, Catholicism, started by Christ. That's all I need to know and that's all I need.

What if?

I consider myself a "convert" even though as a child I was baptized in the Catholic Church. But I was not raised in it. I was raised in a non-believing secular family. I read other's conversion stories and a lot of them are from other Christian denominations. I find them very fascinating because these people already had a deep relationship with Jesus and knew the Bible inside and out and even had some anti-catholic prejudices. I didn't have much to lose when I came into full communion with the Church. I was my biggest hurdle. I had my pride to overcome but that was pretty much it. Don't get me wrong. Pride is a HUGE hurdle. But our protestant brothers and sisters who converted not only had their pride but also risked losing family members, friends, their source of income, (if they were clergy,) and other outside oppositional influences. And yet, they still became Catholic.

I ponder if I had become a non-Catholic Christian, if I'd have done the same. I'm afraid I wouldn't have. There were some occasions when I could have joined another church but there always seemed to be an obstacle. I got the sense that God was putting up the hurdles. Sometimes I even wondered when these hurdles popped up if God just didn't want me. I wasn't worthy enough. But I look back now and see that He did want me. He wanted all of me and had I gone with another tradition I might have become disillusioned and left Christianity altogether. Knowing how weak and faint of heart I was, He put up those hurdles so I'd go straight to the source.

So I really admire those who converted from other Christian traditions. Because they've got moxie. They risked everything and they even lost everything and they still came to Rome. In the early days of Christianity they would have been the happy martyrs singing hymns while being fed to the lions. And they strengthen my faith all the more.

New name, sort of

Hello all who may stop by here from time to time. I've made a slight change in the name of my blog. I've moved to a new state, (bye Arizona!) and decided that since my blog tends to be more about Catholicism and less about miracles, (although Catholicism existing for 2,000 years is a miracle in it of itself,) that it was time to be a little bolder in my Catholic identity. Let's face it. Living the Catholic faith is a day to day practice, hence the term "practicing one's faith."
It requires grace, strength and fortitude and there a some, (or many,) days when I seem to have none of the above.

I'll still talk about miracles because hey, the Church is full of them. But it will no longer be the main focus of this blog.

Friend of my final moment

I have to admit, when I heard Osama Bin Laden was killed, I was elated. I felt like doing the happy dance. I knew that wasn't the proper Christian response but I couldn't contain myself. Justice was finally served. The fact that is was on Divine Mercy Sunday and the day the now Blessed John Paul II was beatified made it seem that much more providential.  But the Catholic response to Bin Laden's demise was predictably tempered in saying that we should never rejoice in someones death no matter how evil. That no matter what, that person is a child of God who went very far astray and needs our mercy and forgiveness more than our jubilation. I thought, yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't spoil my moment of tasting the sweetness of revenge.
I wasn't about to dance on the streets though. I did try to temper myself. I did try to reflect. Of all things,  on Saturday, the night before Bin Laden's assassination, my husband and I saw Of Gods and Men. Sunday I spent the day reflecting on it, thinking how saintly these Atlas martyrs were. I read Fr. Christian's letter that he wrote two years before he was kidnapped and murdered along with 6 other monks. All this was fresh in my mind. I had some anger already toward the extremist who took the lives of innocent people and at the same time I saw how these Cistercian Monks handled the violence and combated it with pure Christian love. When Fr. Christian identified the body of one of the extremist who was responsible for the murder of hundreds of people, including some that were close to the priest, he made the sign of the cross and prayed over his dead body. The military officers looked on in astonishment and disgust. How could this priest show such mercy and sadness towards a wicked person who caused such upheaval and misery? And  yet, that's exactly what he did.
When reading his prophetic letter which he left for those to find after his death, he explains to his readers why they chose to stay in the village where they were clearly in danger of losing their lives. He did it out of love for the mostly Muslim people that the monastery served. It was a situation where Muslims and Christians were living side by side and caring for one another. These monks cared for the villagers and the villagers looked to them as an extended family. Fr. Christian wanted his readers to know this is what the Muslim world really is like. The extremists were not the norm. Sadly they are the loudest and most disruptive and bring terror to their own Muslim brothers and sisters. Toward the end of his letter he referred to his would be assassin as the friend of his final moment.
I mulled over these men's lives and their words and their final sacrifice. I thought about how they may have been very afraid knowing their likely fate. They could have left the village and move to a safer haven. But then again, Jesus could have also escaped his impending death. But love won out. Love conquered dread and fear. Love stood up to the bullies.
So as I reflected on Bin Laden's death,  I had a vision of him coming face to face with our Lord and discovering the lie he had been living and the horror of seeing what he rejected. I started to feel pity. Some would say, "Well, he would have killed you and your children."
 I know that. But he probably lost his eternal life. He probably is not in paradise. We have a chance. We take advantage of the graces that God gives us. Bin Laden rejected all that and is probably now eternally paying the price. It can't be undone. I'm not like Fr. Christian and the other brave monks. I'm often not able to rise above my human tendencies to revel in the death of Bin Laden. It takes me longer to surrender to the love of God and so I'm not completely free of my shackles of pride and mainly, I'm not free from my ongoing worldly fears. These men somehow found that freedom to love in the Christian manner. Loving to the point of willingly laying down their lives for their friends.
So go see Of Gods and Men. It is especially timely in the wake of Bin Laden's demise. When the temptation of rejoicing in the demise of another is too great, we can be reminded of these saintly men who let love rule the day. I close with Fr. Christian's letter.

When an "A-Dieu" takes on a face.

If it should happen one day—and it could be today—

that I become a victim of the terrorism which now seems ready to engulf

all the foreigners living in Algeria,

I would like my community, my Church, my family,

to remember that my life was given to God and to this country.

I ask them to accept that the Sole Master of all life

was not a stranger to this brutal departure.

I ask them to pray for me—

for how could I be found worthy of such an offering?

I ask them to be able to link this death with the many other deaths which were just as violent, but forgotten through indifference and anonymity.

My life has no more value than any other.

Nor any less value.

In any case it has not the innocence of childhood.

I have lived long enough to know that I am an accomplice in the evil

which seems, alas, to prevail in the world,

even in that which would strike me blindly.

I should like, when the time comes, to have the moment of lucidity

which would allow me to beg forgiveness of God

and of my fellow human beings,

and at the same time to forgive with all my heart the one who would strike me down.

I could not desire such a death.

It seems to me important to state this.

I do not see, in fact, how I could rejoice

if the people I love were to be accused indiscriminately of my murder.

To owe it to an Algerian, whoever he may be,

would be too high a price to pay for what will, perhaps, be called, the "grace of martyrdom,"

especially if he says he is acting in fidelity to what he believes to be Islam.

I am aware of the scorn which can be heaped on Algerians indiscriminately.

I am also aware of the caricatures of Islam which a certain islamism encourages.

It is too easy to salve one's conscience

by identifying this religious way with the fundamentalist ideologies of the extremists.

For me, Algeria and Islam are something different: they are a body and a soul.

I have proclaimed this often enough, I believe, in the sure knowledge of what I have received from it,

finding there so often that true strand of the Gospel,

learnt at my mother's knee, my very first Church,

already in Algeria itself, in the respect of believing Muslims.

My death, clearly, will appear to justify

those who hastily judged me naive, or idealistic:

"Let him tell us now what he thinks of it!"

But these people must realise that my avid curiosity will then be satisfied.

This is what I shall be able to do, if God wills—

immerse my gaze in that of the Father,

and contemplate with him his children of Islam just as he sees them,

all shining with the glory of Christ,

the fruit of His Passion, and filled with the Gift of the Spirit,

whose secret joy will always be to establish communion

and to refashion the likeness, playfully delighting in the differences.

For this life lost, totally mine and totally theirs,

I thank God who seems to have willed it entirely

for the sake of that joy in everything and in spite of everything.

In this thank you, which sums up my whole life to this moment,

I certainly include you, friends of yesterday and today,

and you, my friends of this place,

along with my mother and father, my sisters and brothers and their families,

the hundredfold granted as was promised!

And also you, the friend of my final moment, who would not be aware of what you were doing.

Yes, I also say this Thank You and this A-Dieu to you, in whom I see the face of God.

And may we find each other, happy good thieves, in Paradise, if it pleases God, the Father of us both. Amen. (In sha 'Allah).

Algiers, December 1, 1993—Tibhirine, January 1, 1994.

Christian.

How We are Called.

I sat in a room with the RCIA director. This was a sort of intake process.
"So what brings you here?" He asked with pen and note pad in hand.
"Well, I was baptized Catholic but that was it. We never went to church. I decided I would like to complete my formation." I responded.
"Ah, I see, I see. So what is it about the Catholic Church that attracts you? "
"Well, I was at this Catholic wedding..."
"Ah yes, yes, that's usually what happens." he chuckled. "It's either a wedding or funeral. So, what happened at this wedding that made you decide to become Catholic?"
"Well... it was during communion, the priest held up the bread and I suddenly was fixated and I felt like I wanted to cry."
"Wow!" He exclaimed, " Did you have any idea what that was?"
"No."
"Did you want to go up and receive communion?"
"I did but somehow I knew I shouldn't."
"Amazing, amazing. Do you think you could share this story with the others?"
"Uh... I don't know. I don't think I'd feel comfortable sharing this." I responded sheepishly
"Well, I hope you do decide to at some point. You didn't even know that was our Lord up there? That's amazing."

It is amazing and at the same time my story is not unique. I've heard similar accounts from other converts that somehow find themselves at a Catholic Mass. The music and the priest might not be anything special. Sometimes it can be downright dull. But suddenly, the priest holds up the host and they, like me were transfixed. They, like me, had no clue what the cardboard like wafer was. Unexpectedly, they had an encounter with Jesus Christ who beckoned them to come closer.

I like to hear stories of converts because often times it's like reliving my own conversion. I'm reminded that what happened at that wedding wasn't just me being caught up in the emotions of it being a wedding. I remember the priest was kind of a buzz kill anyway. He would kind of lecture the couple about how it wasn't always going to be easy and they were going to have to endure the trials. I thought to myself how the priest had the audacity to give them marriage advice when he's never been married himself. I wasn't particularly open to becoming Catholic at the time. I was pretty liberal and thought the Church was old fashion and not in tune with the "real" world. I thought if I was going to become Christian it would be episcopalian because they were so much looser and less uptight.
But somehow through my indignation toward the priest and the Catholic Church, Jesus still busted through my hard shell and said "Come."

Less than a year later I was a fully confirmed Catholic. The barriers I had up were broken down. The funny thing is for many of us converts, there usually are quite a lot of barriers. I don't know of anyone that just  breezed through it and immediately accepted everything the Church taught right away. For myself, I was going to find a church that thought like me and conformed to me. Instead, it was the other way around.
All because of that one moment when the priest held up that host and said.

"This is the Lamb of God. Happy are those who are called to His supper."

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to partake in His supper. He wanted me to partake in it too. I couldn't refuse no matter how hard it would be.

Needing that sort of thing.

I had a conversation with my older sister the other day. We're pretty close and when we talk on the phone, it can go on for a while. A bit too much on the gossipy side, I admit, but we do get into discussions about the world and the way people are.

We sometimes complain about how dogmatic and hypocritical people can be of any religion. I agree that religion shouldn't be shoved down some one's throat. I also agree that atheism shouldn't be shoved down any one's throat.

My sister is an atheist but for the most part, we respect each other's differing beliefs. However, during our conversation, she said something that made me pause. She said it's fine if us believers need that sort of thing. On the other hand, she didn't need that "sort of thing." as if to say us believers are clinging to something like it's some sort of drug or security blanket.

Here's the thing. My sister is a considerate person. She will rescue stray animals and she hates to see injustices in the world as much as I do. When I was going through postpartum depression, she called every single day until I was feeling better and my outlook on life wasn't so bleak. She defends the underdog and gets angry at those who have plenty and continue to hoard more for themselves. She's rails against the bullies of the world and stands up for the weak. She always tries to be respectful of others. Whether she knows it or not, this is Christianity's influence on her and on society as a whole. We take this for granted. When Christianity spread throughout the world, things started to change for the human race. It became less and less o.k. to brutally kill people for whatever reason. It became less and less every man for himself. Certain human ethics that we take for granted weren't always the norm. This isn't to say that everything turned into paradise or that Christians never participated in brutal acts and immoral behavior. But if you look at where Christianity spread and how society evolved afterward you'll notice a difference in basic fundamental human rights.

One example out of many is Mexico. The Aztec Indian culture would sacrifice children and other innocents in horrific ways. Yearly estimates of 20,000 to 40,000 people were killed in these rituals. The most recent estimate by a leading authority on Mexican demographics put that number up to 250,000 a year.
After the Conquistadors came, their were already Catholic missions set up for over a generation but only a handful of Indians converted to the Christian faith. Then in 1531, Our Lady appeared to a poor Indian, Juan Diego. She requested that a temple be built in her honor. The bishop demanded a sign when Diego told him of Our Lady's request. She provided several such as healing Juan's gravely ill uncle, Castilla roses in December and the famous image of Our Lady on Juan's tilma. Suddenly, Christianity exploded and within five years almost 6 million Indians converted to Catholicism. Sacrificing babies and other humans ceased. As a result, Our Lady of Guadalupe is the Patroness for the unborn.

This is one of the more extreme examples of how drastically a culture was changed because of Christianity. However, much of our basic moral principles are a result of the Christian faith. My mom often refers to us with our Italian heritage as "culturally Catholic."  These basic principles of the Catholic faith that much of our ancestry was immersed in was passed down from generation to generation and so now we take it for granted. We think those that are believers are just doing it to get greater meaning in life but otherwise, it isn't a necessary part of life.

The fact is, it is a necessary part of life and civilization does needs that sort of thing.

Finding the Center.

I was watching Father Barron's Untold Blessings;Three Path's to Holiness and the first path he mentioned was "finding the center."

He talked about the medieval wheel of fortune and how when you're attached to this world you are riding the rim of this wheel and you will only find yourself wanting to reach the top only to find out you'll eventually end up on the bottom again. In the center is Christ. He stays the same no matter how the wheel is turning.


Another way Father Barron also talked about finding the center is when in the gospels, Jesus is asleep in the boat while a storm is raging; (Eg: Mark 4:38-40)

A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" 

He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!" ⁹ The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?"

Only Jesus can calm the storms in our life. He accompanies us on the treacherous journey and if He's the center, the storm can rage all around us but we can be detached so long as we're not attached to ways of the world.

He also mentioned St. Theresa of Avila and her book Interior Castle which covers the same path. I have been reading this book and I have been trying to find that center. On a few occasions I have found it.  Once, upon finding it, I didn't want to lose it. After a period of being a lukewarm Catholic I woke up and started praying the Rosary everyday. I try not to miss praying it. I went to confession and got everything out and got a clean slate. We went to Mass and I was enjoying a little period of peace in my soul. We sat in the cry room because my little toddler is kind of loud and the older two girls get kind of antsy. Another mom had her toddler in the room because she was really acting up and having tantrums. Sometimes, I was a little annoyed by it but I know how bad my kids can get so I put that aside. We received communion and I got on my knees to pray letting the Lord work His way through me. I don't even remember if I was praying for anything in particular. I was so lost in the center that the little girl having a tantrum didn't even penetrate it. Other parents got out of the room because she was really having a fit. However, it didn't phase me in the slightest.  I was so at peace and so full of joy. I found that center. I didn't want to leave. It's the same sometimes in Adoration. I don't want to leave. I want to languish in His presence. I forget about everything else around me.

Once you find that center, you want to go back to it. I desperately want to find it again and again. Being a mom with three beautiful, rambunctious and loud children makes me want to find it while in the storm of motherhood. I would have eternal patience if I was there. I could be a better mother and wife. But the world creeps in and the distractions takeover. The venial sins start to pile up when it's been only a week since my last confession.

I hope each time I reach that center I can stay there longer and carry it with me wherever I go. God willing, if I can be obedient and cooperate, I will.