Lessons Learned from an Encounter with Mary and the March for Life

I had the opportunity to attend the March for Life in Washington DC with a few good friends this past week. We made it a pilgrimage of sorts.

We visited Mount Saint Mary’s Seminary on the way, and we went for a walk along the Stations of the Cross that leads to the Grotto and the small adoration chapel on the hill.

As we walked the Stations of the Cross, it began to snow. The snow melted the moment it landed. When we arrived at a scene of the crucifixion, up on a hill, I was struck by the effect the melting snow had on the face of Mary, looking up at her crucified Son. The water that streamed over her cheek had the appearance of tears.

I was moved by the realization that Mary’s look was one of deep sadness and reverent love, not despair, and not anger.

It made me think.

When we come to Mary, her gaze is never one of condemnation, though it was for our sins that her blessed Son was brutalized and killed.

Her look is one of deep compassion. If you have ever watched the movie, The Passion of the Christ, you may recall the eyes of the Blessed Mother, played so beautifully by the Romanian actress Maia Morgenstern, as she looks at the viewer—you and me--- while the lifeless, bruised and bloody body of her Son rests limply in her lap. Her eyes are not accusatory; they are hauntingly sad, and they seem to ask, “Do you see? Do you see what he has done for you?” Her longing that we do see is palpable in the long, drawn out look we receive from the screen.

Do I? Do I see?

Do I recognize what her Son did for me? Do I know that he would have done it for me even if I were the only person on earth? Do I recognize the Love demonstrated by the Son who willingly surrendered Himself to the fate that I justly deserve through my sins?

As I gazed at the face of Mary in the lightly falling snow I thought of a love that is just beyond my reach, and even comprehension.  It beckons, but we cannot grasp it or even receive it without aid. We must be lifted up. Only in God may we reach this love.

The March for Life, which we walked the following day, was a potent reminder that love is not an illusion, or a fleeting emotion, but it is a force to be reckoned with. It breaks down thick walls of evil and fear; it smashes the barriers that stand between the human heart and God. God is love (cf. 1 Jn 4:8), and God is all powerful. He who abides in love abides in God (cf. 1 Jn 4:16).

To see so many (half a million or so at last report) people, unified for the cause of life, was a testament to the power of love to overcome. While I felt a certain pride in the fact that the Catholic faith dominated the march in terms of presence, I was edified and energized by the fact that there were others there that do not share our Catholic faith, and even, at times, disagree with its teachings. And yet we stood as one, in the power of love.

The many seminarians, religious, and priests, and the thousands of lay faithful, brimming with joy, were such a powerful witness to the love of Christ to all around them.

Illustration copyright 2015 by Leighton Drake

Hearts will change when they encounter changed hearts. People will come to be pro-life when we demonstrate pro-life love authentically. When we affirm the beauty and goodness of life through our witness, people will take notice.

I speak from experience as one who once took the “easy” stance of neutrality on the issue of abortion. I saw it as a personal choice, and though it was an ugly reality, it seemed perhaps a necessary evil. Before I became Catholic, I simply did not see the truth. But, through my conversion as a young man in my twenties, I learned to see life through a completely different set of lenses. I came to appreciate life in a way that made me understand the depth of the evil of abortion. It was the witness of the Church, in her unfaltering affirmation of the beauty and dignity of life, that God used to change my heart.

This doesn't mean we don't speak truth. Nor do we soft-pedal it. But we must speak truth in a spirit of authentic charity, or we don't have a chance of being agents of conversion for anyone. And we must remember we "speak" truth most convincingly by our actions.

The people who stood on the sidelines of the march holding placards that read things like, “My Body, My Choice,” must not be vilified. They must be seen as human beings who do not see the full truth of the beauty and dignity of all human life, for various reasons. There are undoubtedly wounds—deep wounds--- in them from which their blindness comes. Like the rest of us, they need conversion and healing. They need to encounter the love of Jesus Christ, who will show them the truth, goodness, and beauty of all human life, including their own.

The moment we make the pro-choice man or woman an object of scorn, we turn them into an object in our minds. Once we have objectified another human being, we have failed to love. In that moment, we have turned from Christ, and back inward, toward our smaller selves.

The beauty of the march was the joyful faith, hope, and love demonstrated by the youth there. They reminded me that our faith and our hope and our love are theological virtues: in other words, they are gifts from God, received at our baptism. They are the gifts that will change the world. We are reminded that sour-faced saints, to use the image of St. Teresa of Avila, act as a counter-sign to the true Gospel.

Only Love will conquer all. That love is the love that enabled Mother Mary to look upon us with not scorn or hatred, but only the deepest love and compassion, in spite of our complicity in the death of her Son. May we turn to Mary in our attempts to stand for life, and rely on her intercession and her witness of faith, hope, and love.

Have a Nice Day at the Catholic Cafe!

The poverty in what is often called "cafeteria-style" or "pick-and-choose" Catholicism is that it fails to entrust one's life completely to the sovereignty of God. In a word, it is a failure to wholeheartedly trust in the Lord. 

Copyright 2015 by Leighton Drake

This post is intended for Catholics because Protestants, by the very nature of their religion, deny the authority of the Catholic Church. So for them this is a non-issue. I believe they are wrong in their position concerning the authority of the Catholic Church, but to be wrong does not imply a lack of integrity or sincerity. They are following what they believe to be true and I give them the benefit of the doubt they are doing this with integrity. I have known a lot of very holy Protestants that could teach some Catholics (including this one) a thing or two about being an on-fire disciple of Jesus Christ.

But for the Catholic, the authority of the Church to teach in Christ's name is a huge issue. One could argue it is the issue. Why? Because the doctrines of the Trinity, the Eucharist and all the other sacraments, the divinity of Jesus Christ, and the rest, receive their authority through the ministry of the Church that Christ founded.

And if the Church has been given the authority to teach in the name of the Author of life (see the root for the word "authority"), then one would be unwise to dismiss the teachings of the Church on any matter. On the other hand, if the Church does does not possess that authority, Catholics are following a man-made religion and may very well risk their eternal salvation. 

It is not the purpose of this post to argue for the God-given authority of the Catholic Church. For an excellent and concise treatment of this, I recommend the book, By What Authority, by Mark Shea, a former evangelical Protestant turned Catholic. 

I would rather like to briefly address the question: 

If the Catholic Church was founded by Jesus Christ, and was bestowed by Him with the authority to teach in His name on matters of faith and morals, as the Catholic Church claims, how does one justify to oneself the picking and choosing of articles of faith and morals without risking disobedience to the Lord Himself? 

I know: it is a big question. But I think it is an important one. 

When I came to the doors of the Catholic Church (literally--- and they were locked, incidentally--- but that is a story for another time), I found myself facing that question head-on. I knew I could not, with any integrity, become Catholic unless the Church could claim the authority of Christ Himself. If He was not the Head of the Body, as Paul said, I could not with integrity be part of that Body.

If Christ was not the Head of the Catholic Church, the Church was no more than a man-made institution that basically made its claim upon the Gospel of Jesus Christ without any authority to do so. This would be, to my mind, the height of arrogance, and I could have no part in it. 

I poured myself into study and investigation (I was much younger in those days and could be up till all hours of the night and still function the following morning). I desperately wanted to be a Protestant because most of my extended family, including my beloved mother, were Protestant. I also had--- perhaps a silly notion--- dreams of becoming a minister (quite a stretch for a guy who months before had claimed agnosticism and shunned all forms of Christianity). 

However, the wise words of C.S. Lewis, from his classic work, Mere Christianity, haunted me:

I hope no reader will suppose that "mere" Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions--- as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms. If I can bring anyone into the hall I shall have done what I attempted. But it is in the rooms, not in the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals. The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in.... And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and panelling. In plain language, the question should never be; "Do I like this kind of service?" but "Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, from the Preface, emphasis mine)

Through prayerful study, I became convinced that Catholicism is true, and I remain convinced, more than ever, by her claims to authority. (Frankly, from a fleshly point of view, sometimes I think it would be much easier to not be Catholic! But truth must always trump comfort.)

I was twenty-eight when I began the process of initiation into the Church, a process that is wonderfully marked by occasions of conversion and rites that take the human person's faith journey with utter seriousness, and offer a depth of conversional opportunities sorely lacking in many ecclesial communities. 

When I made my profession of faith for the first time, I did so with the conviction that I was "all in." I had tried life on my terms, and that was an utter "fail," so I happily submitted myself to the teaching authority of Jesus Christ, whom I had asked to be Lord of my life, displacing a myriad of idols I had knelt to over the years. 

One of the toughest teachings I encountered was--- not surprisingly--- the Church's teachings on contraception. Not because the teaching didn't make sense--- I read Humanae Vitae to become informed on the reasons for the Church's teachings, and found it brilliant and beautiful, and so prophetic--- but because, frankly, I was terrified. What if we ended up with twenty-odd children (following the example of St. Catherine of Siena's parents!)?

But, scared as I was, the words of Christ, "Fear not!" echoed in my mind as I determined to follow Him all the way, not just part of the way. How arrogant would it be for me to approach the Blessed Lord and say, "I will follow you, Lord--- but on my terms"!

My fears, of course, proved to be a waste of energy. The blessings of openness to life and working in cooperation with God's bodily design through Natural Family Planning over the years has been immeasurable. The Church's teachings on marriage and fertility have done more to mature and strengthen my faith in God's providential care than anything else, in fact. The big, scary "Yes" of submitting to God's authority regarding fertility makes the countless opportunities to say "Yes" to the Lord in other areas of the spiritual life much less daunting. The "Yes" to God's plan in marriage leads to life in the fullest sense.

On the other hand, to treat the Church's teachings like optional culinary items on a buffet table is to cheat oneself of the fullness of faith. It is simply a poverty to live a half-hearted commitment to the Catholic faith.

The only reason to believe and follow anything is because it is true. And Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life (cf. Jn 14:6). He also said to the Apostle Simon Peter, "You are Peter [rock], and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" (Matt 16:18-19, RSV).

Either the Church teaches in the Blessed Lord's name, or it doesn't. Once it is acknowledged that the Church was founded by Christ and has the authority to teach in His name, it is impossible to pick and choose what one believes to be true from the deposit of faith with any integrity. "Cafeteria-style Catholicism" becomes an act of sheer arrogance and futile subjectivity.

People come to the Church because they need Jesus. They seek communion with God. People who say they have a relationship with Jesus but don't need the Church are missing the whole point of Jesus' mission. He came to save a lost humanity, and in doing so He established a family, the family of God, and to be part of that family is to be part of His family. The Church is the "universal sacrament of salvation" (cf. Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church). The Church is the way He established to bring us into communion with Him, and through Him, with the Father, by the power of the Holy Spirit Who proceeds from the Father and the Son. In the life of the Church, we live in relationship with the Blessed Trinity.

When I say "Yes" to the Church, I am saying "Yes" to Jesus. I am, in a sense, living the spiritual reality of Mary, who gave her fiat to God in the fullness of time so that we might have eternal life. Imagine Mary saying to the angel Gabriel, "Let most of it be done to me according to your word... most, but not all."

Sort of loses its spiritual power, doesn't it?

She gave God her full, unconditional "Yes."

We are called to imitate her and do no less. In imitating Mary in her response to God, we open the door to Jesus.

People need Jesus! It's not rocket science.

That's the beauty of the Eucharist, by the way: Jesus is wholly "given for you" (cf. Lk 22:19).

Will you be wholly given for Him?

"It is not hard to obey when we love the one we obey," said Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, admired by Catholics and non-Catholics alike for the depth of her Christian witness.

To obey the teachings of the Church for love of Jesus brings a depth of life and joy that we will never know if we live a "conditional" Christianity.

Why Being a Cafeteria Catholic Makes Sense!

Illustration copyright 2014 by Leighton Drake

Embracing Hope in the New Year

Illustration copyright 2014 by Leighton Drake

Sugar coat it all you want, there is no denying that much of the news this past year has been tough to follow without sliding into a pit of desolation.

Horrific acts of barbarism, rampant terrorism, intense Christian persecution, government control and manipulation, the twisting of the meaning of marriage, plane crashes, celebrity suicide, beloved entertainment icons falling from grace--- much of the news has been dismal at best.

Add to these personal tragedies and trials, and family struggles, and we find the recipe for despair. (Of course, the media perpetuates this because there is so much coverage of the bad news stories as they draw our attention and stir our emotions.)

What does one hold onto in the face of such distressing news?

I am no psychologist (I can barely spell the word). But I know that to despair means to lose hope. And I know how important hope is.

I received the theological virtue of hope at my baptism twenty years ago. Along with faith and love.

Growing these virtues in myself is not a passive affair.

This new year, I am resolved to more closely hold onto this wise counsel from the Letter to the Hebrews:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted (Heb 12:1-3, RSV. Note: It is beneficial to read on to chapter thirteen.)

The thing is, Jesus is our hope. And Jesus showed us how to live by walking, by moving forward. His whole life was a journeying to the holy city, Jerusalem, the home of the Temple.

Sometimes I am tempted to think this is my permanent home, that I am supposed to drop anchor here in this turbulent sea.

We are reminded in the Salve Regina that we journey, in this life, through a "valley of tears."

But the psalmist reminds us that we are to fear no evil as we walk through the valley that is darkened by the shadows of death (cf. Ps 23).

Where do we turn?

I read somewhere a quote by Abraham Lincoln: "I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go."

This should be our daily reality. Don't we--- if we are honest with ourselves--- struggle with fear every day of our lives, to some degree?

I am personally challenged by the words of Blessed Charles de Foucauld:

Complete freedom from fear is one of those things we owe wholly to our Lord.

Fear debilitates us and prevents us from serving Him and others in joyful response to His love.

To fear the evils of this world is to forget that goodness prevails over evil, that the light has overcome the darkness (cf. John 1:5), that life is more powerful than death, that ultimately love wins. We must remember that "perfect love casts out all fear" (cf. 1 Jn 4:18). The more we abide in God, the more we are formed in love, the less fear will dominate us.

"Jesus, I trust in You," is a most apt prayer in face of the temptation to fear.

And we have to face it: We Christians have a responsibility, a duty, to be joyful witnesses to the Resurrection. If we don't do it, who will? "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" ask the angels at the tomb (cf. Lk 24:5). We cannot afford to give in to despair.

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, a most beautiful witness by her life to the Resurrection, counseled,

Don't give in to discouragement... if you are discouraged it is a sign of pride because it shows you trust in your own powers. Never bother about people's opinions. Be obedient to truth. For with humble obedience, you will never be disturbed.

This life is a travail. There is no getting around that. But we know the truth. We know the truth personally. We know Jesus, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (cf. Jn 14:6).

May God grant that we travel the road led by faith and hope, ever driven by the power of love.

Then one day we may borrow words from Tolkien, put into the mouth of a tired and true Bilbo Baggins, and speak them to our progeny:

The Road goes ever on and on

Out from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

Let others follow it who can!

Let them a journey new begin,

But I at last with weary feet

Will turn towards the lighted inn,

My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

(J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King)

Jesus, I trust in You. Amen.

I Love Christmas in Spite of...

Illustration copyright 2014 by Leighton Drake

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Illustration copyright 2014 by Leighton Drake

Some years ago on an early Fall Saturday, my wife dubiously entrusted me with the task of taking my five year old daughter to a birthday party. Our first job was to go by the store to pick up a gift on the way. Typically, I was running late. I frantically searched the shelves of the toy department, trying in vain to find a suitable gift for a five year old girl I barely knew while staying within our usual ten dollar birthday gift budget.

I asked my distracted daughter to give me a hand ("Some help here would be appreciated, Honey!"), so she began perusing the shelves down the aisle a bit. From the corner of my eye, I caught her doing something interesting: she would look at a toy, make the sign of the cross, mumble something with great earnestness, and then make the sign of the cross again. She performed this little ritual with several different toys.

I finally asked her, "What are you doing?"

She replied with wonderful solemnity, "I am praying for my Christmas gifts."

We are all seeking something.

"All you who are thirsty, come to the water! You who have no money, come, buy grain and eat; come, buy grain without money, wine and milk without cost! Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what does not satisfy? Only listen to me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare" (Is 55:1-2, NABRE).

Advent is a time in which we prepare for the greatest of gifts. Christmas is the time we celebrate that gift. Sometimes we get distracted by the little gifts and neglect to think about the Great Gift.

Pope Francis begins his apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium, the Joy of the Gospel, with this  invitation to life:

The joy of the gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus. Those who accept his offer of salvation are set free from sin, sorrow, inner emptiness and loneliness. With Christ joy is constantly born anew (Evangelii Gaudium, no. 1).

What promise! What delight! What hope we experience when we consciously remember the gift of Jesus Christ!

In the midst of all the frantic scrambling for that “perfect gift” for spouse, parent, child, or friend, let’s not forget the greatest gift of all, the gift of God’s very self, given for us, so that we may experience eternal life. 

The first time I appreciated and embraced the true gift of Christmas I was a young man, a former, devout unbeliever who, by a remarkable chain of events, found himself journeying through the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults), happily preparing to receive the threefold sacraments of Christian Inititation: Baptism, Confirmation, and Eucharist.

I had grown up in a home in which my mother, and my mother alone, professed faith in Christ, and Christianity had little impact on forming or informing our family values and our choices. My father strenuously dismissed Christianity as a form of pious sentimentality; religion was for the weak. We didn't attend church or pray as a family. Christianity, if it was to be tolerated, vaguely meant that "God loves you," and "you should practice the Golden Rule," though I doubt any of us but my mother could articulate what that meant. I idolized my father, and took his beliefs as my own from an early age.

Perhaps my mother was the single, lovely and glittering ornament on an otherwise barren tree. Still, no doubt due to her influence, I do remember Christmas as a wholesome time in which we celebrated the gift of family and gift-giving. The only religious symbol I recall is our family nativity set, hand-painted by my mother, a delightful play-set for little hands. It had little spiritual meaning for me, but I treasured it. I suppose I vaguely perceived its meaning, that God loved us and sent his Son for us (whatever that meant). The TV version of The Little Drummer Boy probably represented (and formed) the depth of my understanding of the Incarnation.

Regrettably, during my adolescence, Jesus was the occasional subject of bad humor at the dinner table, though actually more often than not He was simply ignored, arrogantly dismissed as a pious legend. I cringe at how we treated Him, and how we teased my mother for her faith when she dared speak His name. We thought we were being playfully clever rather than blasphemously cruel. 

During the Advent and Christmas I journeyed through the RCIA I finally understood that Christmas is the time we celebrate the most astounding truth there is or could ever be: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life" (Jn 3:16, NABRE). Having been ransomed from the dark slavery of agnosticism, I was in awe that God could love us so!

Communion with the God who loves us more than we can comprehend is the greatest of gifts, because communion with God is God’s gift of His very self to us. There is no greater gift than God. In receiving Him, we experience the real life that Jesus promised (cf. Jn 10:10). We share in the life of the Blessed Trinity: "...[T]his is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ" (Jn 17:3, NABRE).

This Christmas, may we rediscover the truth, goodness, and beauty of God’s gift of Himself in the Person of Jesus Christ, who died for us so that we might live. This Christmas, especially with so many bleak and tragic stories trending in the news, it would be good to reflect on the sublime words of Saint John:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. 

What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth” (John 1: 1-5, 14, NABRE).

May we enjoy the freely given gift of God’s love! Recall the words of Jesus Christ as He began His public ministry: "This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel" (Mark 1:15, NABRE)! 

Pope... Fonzie?

These days, reading press coverage of Pope Francis is often a near occasion of hilarity. The lack of sagacity on display in press coverage of the pope is almost comical. Almost daily we see before our eyes a parade of unprecedented buffoonery as so-called journalists "write" Pope Francis to fit their various agendas. 

Illustration copyright 2014 by Leighton Drake

I believe this is less indicative of the kind of pope our Holy Father Francis is, and more a symptom of a hyper-saturated media market which escapes scrutiny just by virtue of its volume, and of a deepening impoverishment of journalistic integrity. Often, the story trumps the truth.

Reading some of the commentary on Pope Francis, one might come to the conclusion that the Holy Father is the most iconic rebel since the Fonz (for those of us old enough to remember the leather-jacketed motorcycle rider from Happy Days).

Strangely, to read the pope's own words portrays a different reality.

To read his words in official papal documents and transcripts of his homilies gives one the impression that he believes what the Church believes, and that he truly is, as he said in the beginning of his pontificate, a son of the Church.

Recently Pope Francis said (at least, reportedly so!) that people should read his actual words and stop relying on commentary on his words.

So with that, I will end this commentary...