Get Up! Get Out There! Part III - Corpus Christi and Ordinary Time

By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, Who humbled Himself to share in our humanity.

It has been almost a month since we celebrated Corpus Christi Sunday, and I still haven't shared about it.  What can I say? Finishing up the school year, keeping the kids busy, building a home business and trying to take advantage of the good weather to get things fixed up and tidied can keep a man plenty occupied, and that's what I've been doing. I've had a lot to do at home, all of which has the potential to unite my life to Christ in ways impossible to understand unless one understands the Eucharistic sacrifice of the Mass and seeing God in the day to day.

Churchgoing Catholics hear the words of Christ at the first Eucharist every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation, and possibly more often than that if we attend Catholic weddings, funerals or even daily Mass. "This is My Body, which will be given up for you." Jesus lived and died those words less than 24 hours later during the beatings, mockeries, scourging, crowing with thorns and ultimate crucifixion He endured. He showed this was all not in vain in His rising on the third day. He gives us a share of His life, death and resurrection through the gift of Himself in Holy Communion. We are called upon to eat His flesh and drink His blood, provided we are not in a state of mortal sin. And yes, we Catholics acknowledge this truth that the bread and wine become more than they are. Even though a scientific analysis would still reveal bread and wine (h/t Fr. Brian), what you see is far less than what you get. They are transformed by the power of God, so that we might receive and become more than we are. As St. Augustine said of the Eucharist, "Behold what you are, and become what you receive."

We already know from the Scriptures that, just as Jesus rose from the dead, we too shall rise on the last day, also in a glorified body. While the animals are bodies alone, and the angels are pure spirit, we are body/soul composites (h/t Michael Voris at Church Militant). Our bodies as we know them now will all die someday, and our souls will be separated from them for a time, but we will be raised again. We have to have a bold, daring faith to look at the beautiful earth, acknowledge it as temporary and dare to want more. If we are faithful, we will have more in heaven, but we can be even more daring than that. When I die, I will be joyful in heaven as a soul, but I don't even want that to be the end, and it won't be. I want my body back, restored to its intended glory (h/t Fr. Kieran). What better way to prepare and to transform than to receive Jesus Christ - Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity - in the Eucharist? Make regular Confession to keep in a state of grace. Get to Mass and receive worthily, at the very least on Sundays and Holy Days, on weekdays if possible. Go to Adoration. Humble yourselves before Our Lord, who came to us in humility, a virtue severely lacking in us, and laid down His life on the Cross for His Bride, the Church.

Sadly, many Catholic parishes and dioceses have become protestantized, almost embarrassed to embrace the uniqueness of this sacred truth. Catholics don't know and understand their faith. If they did, they wouldn't go looking to other denominations for a "personal relationship with Jesus." Can you get more personal than Jesus giving you His flesh and blood to eat and drink? Can you get more personal than Jesus entering into you, transforming the most hidden depths of your being from within? Yes, we have the most personal relationship possible with Jesus Christ through the Eucharist.

And after all these glorious feast days, how do we live it in Ordinary Time? To begin with, we should focus on what Ordinary Time is about, which simply means within the natural order of things (h/t Fr. Guy). It's easy to see what we focus on in certain liturgical seasons (h/t Fr. Heinlein in advance). Advent, we do penance and prepare for the coming of Christ, not just to celebrate the first coming at Christmas, but His Second Coming. Christmas, we obviously celebrate His birth and the events of His early years. Lent, we enter into even deeper penance, preparing to commemorate Jesus' Passion and celebrate His Resurrection at Easter Sunday. The Easter Season, we celebrate all the events following the Resurrection, from Ascension Thursday on the 40th day to the coming of the Holy Spirit on the 50th Day, Pentecost Sunday. During the first period of Ordinary Time, after the Christmas Season, the focus is on Jesus' earthly ministry. What about the second period of Ordinary Time? The focus is on our ministry, our calling, to preach the Gospel to all the nations. How do we go about preaching the Gospel? Word and deed.

In my home, things are busy. There is a lot for me to do for others, and I wish I could say I did a perfect job of getting it all done and doing it joyfully. I have to work on that. The dishes, the yard, the laundry, the cooking, yes, it all has to get done. I have a choice as to whether to do it begrudgingly, grumbling about it, or joyfully out of a spirit of service, laying down my life for my lovely bride and my domestic church. Sometimes, my body and mind are flat out exhausted, but as a husband and father, that is my calling, to give up my body for those under my care. Saint Paul tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the Church. That is my mission, which gives a different meaning to the submission Paul speaks of before that. The prefix "sub-" meaning under, places my wife under that mission I am called to live. This means even when it's not easy, even when it's not convenient. I need to submit myself to God to humble myself daily, so that I can live that mission.

Out in the world, we also have the mission to preach the Gospel. We need to share the truth of Christ in a culture that is making that considerably more difficult to do. Society tells us we "deserve" this and are "entitled" to that and elevates that which contributed to the fall of angels and men, "pride," as something to be celebrated. Jesus never promised us it would be easy; as a matter of fact; He promised persecutions and rejections and even family rejecting us. What do we do? Get out there and tell the story. Take all that we've learned throughout the rest of the Church year, that Jesus Christ, God the Son, was born in humble beginnings, waited humbly for 30 years, was baptized though sinless, fasted for 40 days, refused to take the easy way when tempted in the desert, called the sinners to repentance, condemned the pride of those who thought themselves better than others, was crucified, died, rose again, ascended into heaven and will come again. Take that message with you to all you meet, all the way to the feast of Christ the King, the last Sunday of the liturgical year. We know the truth. God is love, despite the popular use meaning anything but. In the end, in all eternity, God, Who is love, wins. Whatever the earthly cost for me, I want to be on that winning team, God's team. It's our turn. Battle has begun!

Get Up! Get Out There! Part II: Trinity Sunday

After Pentecost Sunday, we celebrated two glorious Sundays that usher us into Ordinary Time, Trinity Sunday and Corpus Christi. The former celebrates the triune nature of One God in Three Divine Persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The latter calls attention to the true presence of Christ - Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity - in the Eucharist under the appearance of simple bread and wine. I could live a century more, spending the entire time praying, meditating, studying and writing about both of those sacred truths of Holy Mother Church, and I would barely be scratching the surface. Still, nonetheless, we need to delve deeper into our supernatural faith to grow in it, so I hope and pray that what I put to the page (or screen as the case may be) will light a fire in all who read this to do so. I'll stick to Trinity Sunday today, and hopefully I can get to Corpus Christ before Advent rolls around.

I had heard a story (thanks Father Dominick) of a missionary priest who had been assigned to a remote village. A donor had sent, through him, the gift of a sundial for the villagers. The priest was thrilled, as it would give him an opportunity to teach the people to use it to tell time. Not even knowing at first what it was, the villagers were so delighted with the gift from this distant donor that they put it in the middle of the village. Their excitement grew when they learned of the ability to tell time with it. They were so pleased with it, they wanted no damage to come to it, so they built a roof over it to protect it from the elements. In many ways, we do the same thing with the belief in the Trinity. We are overjoyed when we first come to the Faith, although we don't understand entirely. Then we learn a little, and grow in our love for the Holy Trinity. Finally, fearing the idea that criticisms and questioning might somehow damage our faith in this doctrine, we don't talk about it. By our failure to let it out in the open, we hide the glory of the Trinity from others. To paraphrase St. Augustine, the truth is a lion. It does not need you to defend it. Let it out, and it will defend itself.

What I heard after the story this Trinity Sunday was a challenge to pray to the Holy Trinity as a whole. We very often pray to God the Father for certain things, to Jesus Christ, God the Son, for some, and to the Holy Spirit for others. I was challenged, because it pushed me to understand beyond the boundaries of my mind in a way that only God can put there, not my own attempts to reason out intellectually. At a time like this present age, when the family is under attack in so many ways, we need to be open to the Trinity more than ever, for as St. John Paul II said, "God in His deepest mystery is not a solitude, but a family, since he has in himself fatherhood, sonship and the essence of the family, which is love. This subject of the family is not, therefore, extraneous to the subject of the Holy Spirit." Dr. Scott Hahn, in an interview I had once seen and wish I could find, points out that the late pope does not say God is like a family, but that God is a family. He goes on to say it is more accurate to say the Hahn's are like a family. What is the difference between God as solitude and God as family? This is one Scott Hahn talk I was able to find.

The concept of God as family is the best way that we can understand the concept of the Trinity. One of the simplest, and therefore least prone to error, explanations I saw of the Trinity was in a picture in a copy of the Baltimore Catechism. It had a triangle, with each point or angle having the name of one of the Persons of the Trinity. On the inside was the word, "God." On each of the sides of the triangle, it had the words, "is not." From each angle to the center was a line with the word, "is." A quick search yielded the same picture here. Just as in many ways, earthly things imperfectly reflect heavenly things, so humanity, created in God's image and likeness, reflects this reality. Warning, I may use a little politically incorrect language from back before we forgot that when talking about the human race, "Man" included all people, male or female. I, as a human being, can say without fear of being contradicted, "I am man. I am human." Any other human being in existence can do the same thing. I am not you, and you are not I. I am not my father, nor am I my son. Regardless, I am still man, and so are you. Humanity, mankind, also consists of all men, all human beings, male and female. We are all mankind, the family of man. God even intended for us to live as family, as in Genesis 2:18 when He said, "It is not good for man to be alone." Of course it is not good, because we are meant to reflect His nature as family.

We are imperfect in our life as family here on earth, whether talking about one's immediate family, extended family or all of humanity. The Baltimore Catechism does state clearly our purpose in life, which is to know, love and serve God in this life and to be happy with Him in the next. Scripture speaks the truth in the first letter of John that, "We are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we do know that when Christ appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." In the context of the Trinity, I find it impossible to believe that we will live as anything less than a perfect family. Does the Church believe that we shall be resurrected, just as Jesus Christ? Yes. Does the Church believe the Scripture that we shall be like Him? Yes, not just in the glorified, resurrected bodies we too will receive, but in the fact that we will live in perfect union with each other in the heavenly family, because we will live in perfect union with the Trinity. This is a bold proclamation, and I dare to say I want to be included in that. Any Catholic faithfully attending Mass should want the same and believe it is within reach, or else it would be foolish for the priest to pray during every consecration, "By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity." If I had more time for this blog entry, I'd go straight into commenting on Corpus Christi, but lunch is finished, and the housework is not. I cannot neglect my responsibilities to my immediate family. My God, the perfect family, bless you, my family of all humanity.

Get Up! Get Out There! Part I: Ascension to Pentecost

I've been meaning to get a blog post up for a few weeks now about the glorious liturgical feasts we've since celebrated/will celebrate, but with my crazy schedule, I've had more time to accumulate the thoughts about them and less to get them typed up and published. It's a good thing this isn't a job for me, or I'd be well past my deadline, but I digress. Many Catholics, Christians of other denominations, and even irreligious are easily excited about the amazing feasts of Christmas and Easter. For believers, who wouldn't be overjoyed at the celebration of Our Lord Jesus Christ's birth and Resurrection, respectively? I mean, He came down to earth, lived through vulnerability to the human experiences of hunger, thirst, heat, chill, temptation, and then, at the end of it all, suffered the death we deserved, because only One Who is God could worthily take away sin, but only a human being could suffer and die. By that human experience, we are shown we are not alone. By that death, our death is conquered. By that rising, we are restored to new life. Being no great theological scholar within the Church, I would still like to share some perspectives I've pieced together from homilies I've heard and theologians I respect greatly.

As we get later into the Easter Season, the focus shifts from the initial joy and wonder of Jesus rising from the dead. After weeks of our triumphant cry, "Christ is risen! Alleluia," we begin to get the sense that there is something more coming, hinting toward the Ascension on the fortieth day. What an amazing experience that must have been for the Apostles, as they witnessed Him returning, body and soul, to the Father in Heaven. What jubilation must have occurred in Heaven among the angels as Jesus returned from His mission, triumphant (thank you, Father Carroll for that perspective). When the Apostles' initial wonder faded, no doubt a certain degree of fear began to creep in. They saw great miracles before Jesus' death, yet scattered when things got tough. It's easy to stay brave when you can see an obvious sign of the Lord's presence with you. Yet, Jesus knew their hearts, and He had planned for it well in advance, promising them another Advocate. This Advocate arrived ten days later at Pentecost. What a great culmination of the Easter Season! And after that day, when the Apostles preached the Good News to the people and baptized 3,000 of them, they sat back and congratulated themselves on the great job they did, and that was the end of the story, right? Wrong!

After the arrival of the Holy Spirit, the Apostles fulfilled the command to the best of their abilities and beyond thanks to the grace God gave them to go out and preach the Gospel. We hear the story year after year, celebrate fifty days with glorious Alleluias constantly on our lips (thank you, Monsignor Ryan), and then what? What do we do with that message? Slip into Ordinary Time with just a vague memory of it? I think the liturgical colors may give us a little bit of an answer. Usually, throughout the major feasts of the Church, the vestments are white, yet Pentecost Sunday is red. Why? True, the Acts of the Apostles does tell us the Holy Spirit descended like tongues as of fire, and fire can be red, but at what other times does the priest wear red? Palm Sunday, Good Friday, feasts of certain martyrs, times when blood was shed, the liturgical color is red. I'm not qualified to say whether this was intentional or not, but Jesus promised us persecutions for His Name. He practically guaranteed the Apostles they would be called almost entirely, with the exception of John, to lay down their lives for Him, to shed their blood. We have the same call, to teach the truth of Christ, even at the cost of our own blood. Nowadays, we're often reduced to silence in the western world if someone so much as gives us a funny look for talking about Christ, especially on the moral issues. I've been called a religious extremist, a bigot, a misogynist and many other things for my faith in Jesus, and that's treated as a big thing. Seriously? Sticks and stones, folks. I'm a wimp of the Faith compared to the modern day martyrs in the Middle East and in godless regimes like China and North Korea. I ask for their prayers for me, so weak in my resolve here, because it will get worse than name calling and funny looks here, guaranteed.

There's much more to say, but while blogging is a great way to get a message out, I would be a hypocrite to spend so much time doing that while not attending to my duties to my family. The life of a disciple of Christ is one of service, and as a husband and father, I am bound to serve my family. After all, to give a taste of my next blog post, family is one of the greatest ways in which we begin to understand the nature of God. Until then, know that, in the words of St. Augustine, later reemphasized by Pope St. John Paul II, "We are an Easter people, and 'Alleluia' is our song." This does not cease to be true just because the Easter Season is over. Alleluia! Alleluia!

What Does Being Merciful Mean?

Just yesterday, the Catholic Church celebrated the Third Sunday of the Easter Season, still joyous in the glorious Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ. From as far back as Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion through now, I've seen a lot of posts on social media about mercy, and how Jesus came into the world not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. This is an awesome truth affirmed in both Scripture (John 3:17) and in Sacred Tradition. Many people I know, intelligent and well intentioned people, will often take passages like this and interpret it in a way that loosens moral teaching or implies that we have a reasonable hope that all are saved, and that even to offer moral correction is uncharitable. But is that really the message of God's mercy, or is there just a little more to it than can be covered in a meme, tweet or Facebook status?

Jesus pointed out the sins many times throughout the Gospels, and it was not just those of the hypocritical Pharisees, as many modern-minded types would have us believe. I know many of both extremes, those for whom the pope himself is not Catholic enough, and who appear to claim the authority to oversee his excommunication, and those for whom the only mortal sin is to call something widely accepted in the culture a sin. Since I have had my share of personal showdowns with the former, and since the latter are much more abundant in the world, I want to focus more on the latter, and to unpack the meaning and depth of the word "mercy," especially in the context of God's divine mercy.

Dictionary.com has several definitions of the word, but the first entry defines mercy as "compassionate or kindly forbearance shown toward an offender, and enemy, or other person in one's power; compassion, pity, or benevolence." Let's face it now and admit we are all offenders against God, sinners, violators of His commands. If we claim we are not, then we lie and call God a liar, as the First Letter of John points out. As sinners, we are in need of repentance, which is more than just being sorry for our sins, but in its Greek origins means to turn around. All three of the synoptic Gospels quote Jesus as saying He has come to call sinners to repentance, not to deny their sins or say they're no big deal.

Jesus did not make any claim in John 8 that the woman caught in adultery was innocent, or that her sin did not matter. Yet we know the Pharisees wanted to use the opportunity to trip Him up. The Mosaic Law did call for the stoning of those involved in adultery, but under Roman occupation, as revealed later in the Passion narratives, the Jewish people did not have the right to put a person to death. It is Jesus, however, who trips them with their own legalistic obsessions, calling for the one without sin to cast the first stone. After the crowd leaves, with no one to condemn the woman, Jesus assures her that He does not condemn her either, and leaves her with the command, "Go and sin no more."

But it was Jesus Who was pointing out people's sins and telling them to repent. He's God, and therefore sinless, so He's allowed, while we have to keep our mouths shut about others' sins, right? Wrong! Jesus tells us to rebuke our sinful brethren (Luke 17:3 and Matthew 18:15). While still in His earthly ministry, He sends His disciples out two by two, healing the sick, driving out demons and calling for repentance. This continued after Pentecost, when Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, called on the people to repent of their sins after their denial of Jesus. Was this because he was sinless? Absolutely not. Peter denied Jesus three times on the day of His Passion. Still, Peter used some tough words with the people, despite his own sins and betrayal of Jesus.

Correcting people, even when we are not perfect ourselves, IS the merciful thing to do. Among the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, brotherly correction encompasses admonishing the sinner, instructing the ignorant and counseling the doubtful. Many Protestant and even Catholic sources will emphasize the faith of the "good thief" on the cross, who admitted his sentence was just, but that Jesus was innocent, and simply asked Him to remember him when He entered His Kingdom (Luke 23:42). The man's faith was an important part of his salvation, but not the whole story, for faith without works is dead. Look just a few short verses earlier, when the criminal, well aware of his own sins, rebukes the other who taunts Jesus. It wasn't one of the more tangible corporal work of mercy. He couldn't feed, clothe or otherwise comfort his fellow criminal on the cross, but he reached out to him in those dying moments to try to save him. So no, the fact that we are sinners does not give us an excuse for keeping silent in the face of others' sins. People may become defensive, and if they know your sins, they may throw it right back in your face. Let them, for such a sentence is just. Fight their pride with humility, and even admit, "I deserve that. I'm a sinful person, too. I don't have a right to judge, but a duty to reach out in love."

God has a never ending supply of mercy that He just wants to pour out upon all of us, but He also gives us free will. He will not force His mercy upon us. He will not force anyone to be with Him for eternity. That would not be mercy, but indifference. We must confess our sins. We must repent. We must turn around. We must reach out to others to do the same, even when it's uncomfortable for them or for us. To fail to do so would be the most unloving, unmerciful thing we could do to our brothers and sisters.

I Am Just a Servant

Today, the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Annunciation, in which we recall the appearance of the Archangel Gabriel to the Blessed Virgin Mary and announcing that she would be the Mother of Our Lord.  It is a feast of great significance to me, whether to just myself, or to others special to me.  My Dad became a Catholic March 25, 1989, as the Easter Vigil happened to fall on that date that year.  Nine years ago today, I met my beloved wife in person for the first time.  Finally, seventeen years ago, and renewed every year since then, with the exception of 1999, I made my Total Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary.  In that sweet devotion, one consecrates all he is and has to Our Lord through the Blessed Mother.

This year, I felt myself aware of the prayers of this devotion in a way not felt since 1998.  There are 33 days of prayer before making one's consecration: 12 preparatory days, followed by 7 days each focused on knowledge of self, Mary and Jesus.  As I approached my date of renewal, I became aware of what my offering would be.  While a devotion such as this might be foreign to those of other Christian denominations, or to those who do not know Christ at all, I urge my Catholic brethren to place yourselves in the loving care of our Blessed Mother, and ask her to lead you to Jesus, and to help you bring Christ to the world.

One need only look at the recent history of scandal within the Catholic Church, including but far from limited to the clergy sex abuse scandal, to know the Church is wounded and suffering from a severe crisis in faith.  The individual scandals only serve as symptoms of a greater evil, a lack of supernatural faith and of fidelity to what the Catholic Church truly teaches.  It has resulted in a dying of the love many once had for the Church, and eager hand wringing from those who have long hated Her, whether those of no faith or those of a different faith who, for one reason or another, want to see Her disappear from the earth.  I love to disappoint those in both categories; it's not going to happen.  The gates of hell shall not prevail against us.

That said, it is not a time to become complacent or dismiss the undeniable challenges to the Faith.  The powers of hell may not have the last laugh.  They may know they're going down in the end in utter defeat, but they are determined to bring down as many souls with them in the end, and if we are not careful, any one of us could be one of them.  We need to grow in humility if we are to grow in faith.  What good is it to proclaim boldly, as Peter and the other Apostles at the Last Supper, "I will die with you," then fall because we failed to take the time to pray?  You may not be called to die for the Faith, but if you are a Catholic and expect to skate through life without having to put up or shut up when it comes to defending the truth, your head is in the sand.

We see people losing their livelihoods because of their fidelity to Christian teaching.  The worst part is the number of Catholics who have lost and will lose jobs at CATHOLIC institutions for daring to share Catholic teachings.  Don't believe me?  Look up Patricia Jannuzzi.  Being from the same diocese at the moment, I've probably just guaranteed I will never hold any position of significance within it, but the administrative jobs in parishes and dioceses will come and go.  Besides, being blackballed by the establishment in the Church (not to be confused with the Magisterium) would put me in good company.  Christ lasts forever, and I want to be on His side.  Believe me, it's easier to shut up and just accept every new trend and every assault on the teachings of the Catholic Church, go through life taking the Sacraments, still identifying as Catholic.  In so many ways, it would be easier to give up Our Lord for thirty pieces of silver; Lord knows I've struggled monetarily at times in my life.  It would be easier to say, as Peter did three times when put to the test, "I don't know him," even swearing and cursing to get people off my back.  It would be easier to run, as did nine other Apostles, than to stand by Him at the Cross.  That is, at least until death.

Catholics, you have a choice today.  You can do what is easy, or you can do what is right.  There is no way to have it both ways.  If we live with the spirit of entitlement, as is so prevalent today, then our faith will be smothered.  If we live, to paraphrase Mary, proclaiming humbly, "I am the servant of The Lord," we open ourselves to God's grace within us, and we will be faithful.  This leads me back to the original point of my post, the Total Consecration.  When choosing a consecration date, it is customary to choose a Marian feast day.  The next date on the calendar after today, while not specifically a Marian feast, is April 28, the feast of St. Louis Marie de Montfort, who began the Total Consecration devotion.  For those wishing to begin, the first day of the preparatory prayers is tomorrow.  You can follow along according to the schedule on their website.  Or, if you prefer book form, you can purchase it and other materials from Montfort Publications.  If another devotion is what works for you, whatever the case may be, let us ask God to purify and humble us.  A war is upon us that will not be fought with earthly weapons, but in the heart and soul of every human being.  On your knees for battle, soldiers!  Deus Vult!  Totus Tuus!

A Contrast In Cultures

Merry Christmas to all. While the radio stations have stopped playing their Christmas songs, many Christmas decorations are already down, and most people will look at you like you have three heads if you wish them a Merry Christmas now, it is still the Christmas Season, and there is much to celebrate and much to commemorate at this time. While pondering the joys and the little thought of sorrows associated with Christmastime, it occurred to me that this is a year when the feasts of the Holy Family and the Holy Innocents fall on the same day. What a glaring demonstration side by side of the conflict between the loving, nurturing culture of life we are called to build and the destructive culture of death that dominates so much of society today.

Pope St. John Paul II, when writing about the trinitarian nature of God, said, "God in His deepest mystery is not a solitude, but a family, since He has in Himself fatherhood, sonship and the essence of the family, which is love." Dr. Scott Hahn, points out that John Paul II did not say God was like a family, but a family, and that it was more accurate to say the Hahns are like a family, since those attributes were present in his family (and all others), but only imperfectly. Jesus Christ, as God, is part of the Holy Trinity, the most perfect family. As a man, however, He was also a part of the closest reflection of that trinitarian family, which is the Holy Family. In the ideals of a family, we are called to love, give and sacrifice for others, both in our natural family and in our extended family of humanity as sons and daughters of God. In ways great and small, we have fallen short of that goal, but we have this celebration of the Holy Family the first Sunday after Christmas Day to remind us of that ideal and to renew our efforts to draw closer to one another. In a loving family, life is valued, and people seek to raise up one another, not to hold power over one another. Humility reigns in the kingdom of the family.

The pride that led to the slaughter of the Holy Innocents under Herod was not a one time occurrence. The bloodlust that stands out in such ugly opposition to the family was there when Cain slew Abel. "Am I my brother's keeper?" I imagine Cain, tiller of the fields whose sacrifice was rejected, while that of Abel, keeper of flocks, was accepted, making such a statement with derision, viewing his brother as little more than an animal. As Scott Hahn pointed out, and as should be our approach in life, Cain was not his brother's keeper; he was his brother's brother, and he murdered him in cold blood. Herod, far from being related to Jesus by blood, viewed the vulnerable Babe of Bethlehem not as a brother, but as an enemy. If the potential lurks in the hearts of people to kill their own immediate family, how much easier for a corrupt king to order the slaughter of a village's entire population of boys two years or younger in an attempt to destroy One Who could be a threat to his power.

Over time, people have sought to dehumanize other groups. Slavery and segregation were accepted in the United States and live on in other parts of the world because one nationality, skin color, tribe or other collective arbitrarily decides it is better than another. Such oppressions of one group by another are contrary to the love we must have as children of the same Heavenly Father.

The most horrific attack on the family, which takes tens of millions of lives annually worldwide, and which has killed more innocents in America than Hitler and Stalin combined in their respective countries, is that of abortion. Our modern culture has become one that pits mother against child, and which believes compassion is a case of either/or, while a true sense of family sees it as both/and. It has become a lucrative industry to "fix" an unexpected, inconvenient pregnancy through the destruction of a helpless life, and some in that industry even see their work as a good thing, even an act of charity.

Rather than charity, it is an act of war, which leaves one dead and one wounded. Oppose this war, and you are labeled as one who wants women to die in back alleys or only cares about people until they're born, despite the facts about the pro-life movement demonstrating the opposite. We are a community that provides both brick and mortar and mobile care units, all sorts of baby supplies and a variety of other services. No one single organization or individual can handle all of the responsibilities when caring for the needs of mothers and children. Some are better at filling one need than another, whether praying, protesting, material support or giving up ones time to serve. They all are pieces of a puzzle that together answer the question, how do we help families in need? We must be countercultural and oppose the mindset that says helping a child is done at the expense of the mother or vice versa. That mother and that child, you are their brother or sister. There is much work to be done, much love to be given if we are to build a true family spirit.

If you want to help mothers in need, there are more links to more places than I can possibly fit on my own blog, but here are a few to start, mostly around Long Island where I grew up and New Jersey where I live now:

http://www.cge-nj.org/
http://www.sistersoflife.org/
http://birthright.org/en/
http://www.lifecenterli.org/
http://thebridgetolife.org/web/

Miscarriage for Men

As I'm writing this, it's August 15, the Feast of the Assumption, when the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed body and soul into Heaven.  If you're reading it the day it's published, however, it's October 15, the day when we commemorate the passing of millions of other souls into eternal life, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  It is a day that has particular meaning to me, as my beloved wife has had four miscarriages: one from her first marriage and three with me.

This Halloween, we will remember the sixth anniversary of one of them, probably the most difficult one for either of us emotionally.  It was one that I just began to come to terms with this year, thanks to plenty of prayer, therapy and an article I read, entitled, "How to Have a Miscarriage."  I had seen it posted in a Facebook support group for fathers of miscarried children, and my first thought was not to click on it, thinking it dealt with how to trigger one naturally.  After a few days of the link taunting me, however, I decided to click on it.  The resulting read was one that triggered a surge of anger, grief and guilt expressed in incoherent sobs almost seven years after the fact.  It wasn't due to the similarities to my wife's experience, but rather, due to the differences.

There were some similarities initially.  My wife, like the woman in the article, was 40.  We weren't trying, though.  We had just had a son January of that year, and we figured that was just freak luck.  We never expected another conception in general, much less the same year, yet there we were late that summer, marveling at our above average fertility.  We weren't anything resembling wealthy, so we were understandably nervous about finances, but knowing our families would express more than enough verbal concern about that for both of us, I simply kissed her tummy and whispered, "Welcome," to the tiny person in there.

Around mid-October, things changed.  My wife's asthma, which usually became negligible during pregnancy, started to return to non-pregnancy levels.  Time went by, and spotting started.  We went in to the obgyn to get her looked at, praying, full of fear for our little girl.  My wife's regular obgyn was out, not a situation you want to be in when miscarrying.  It was too early for any ultrasound to show gender, but instinct told us both she was carrying a girl, and her instincts have never been wrong for any live births, so I trust those same instincts regarding any miscarriages.  It was late enough for an ultrasound to detect a heartbeat, or lack thereof in this case.  I was there with my wife, our nine-month old son, and the little girl we prayed was all right.  When I saw the image on the ultrasound, that little baby looked perfect.  Although based on timing, the fetal age should've been thirteen weeks, the ultrasound said eleven.  There was no possible way to soften the words from the doctor that day, "I'm not finding a heartbeat."  She sent us to Overlook Hospital for a second ultrasound, just in case, but her tone told me she didn't hold out much hope.  On the drive over, to hell with New Jersey law in that situation, I called my Dad.  I asked for his prayers, cried with him and asked him to let others know.

When we arrived, they did the second ultrasound, same results, and they scheduled my wife for a D&C to remove our little child's body.  This was where things were very different from the Hairpin article.  We didn't hear about any other options.  We didn't hear that we could go home and wait for things to occur naturally, which, as you will soon read, probably would've happened sooner rather than later.

As we were walking, yes, walking, to the area where the procedure would be done, we experienced the one time that day when we were entirely alone.  People being discharged from a hospital stay, who have no need of any assistance moving, are still sometimes wheeled out in wheelchairs, but my miscarrying wife was expected to walk.  It was in a hallway, and at that moment was when spotting went to actual hemorrhaging.  Having known the fear due to my wife hemorrhaging after labor had been induced during the last pregnancy, I felt a fear like I had never known before, the fear of losing both.  The next...I don't even know how long it was...I don't remember what happened.  Whether help arrived, or I carried, dragged or walked her there, I still don't know.  All I know is that we got where we needed to go.

While we waited, I called our pastor.  I'm the type that many non-Catholic or non-practicing Catholic friends often ask when a question about what the Catholic Church does in the case of this or that, but I had no idea what Catholic procedure was in the event of a miscarriage, which our pastor could probably tell.  While we waited for him, a chaplain who was part of the hospital staff prayed with us.  Our pastor arrived, and they prayed together, and then he prayed a prayer that's used for miscarriages.  That was the one moment of comfort that occurred the whole day.

When the surgeon who would be doing the procedure arrived, we requested that he keep our baby's remains so we could have a burial.  His cold response was, "Well, I can preserve the specimen, but there won't be much left."  The specimen?  My baby was reduced to that?  As my tongue recovered from the shock enough to begin shaping into the first expletive in what would have been a tapestry of them if I had gotten the chance, my wife fired back, "That is not a specimen; that is my daughter!"  The doctor's response was a weak, "As you wish."

The procedure began, and I waited with my nine month old.  I had to watch as life went on around me. Although it was a hospital, and they were dealing with sick and injured people, there was still a bit of a festive, celebratory feel about the place, as it was Halloween.  While they passed candy around and talked about their plans, I waited, my plans, hopes and dreams for my little girl shattered.  It felt so wrong that life should be allowed to continue for the rest of the world, and that I should be forced to witness it, all while my wife and I grieved.  After what seemed like forever, the doctor notified me he was finished, and he let me know there was genetic testing that could be done to verify gender and to see if there were any physical problems that resulted in the miscarriage.  We didn't have the money for that, and knowing wouldn't bring her back, so I declined.

A little later, I was told my wife was awake, and I could come see her.  However, as I headed in with my son to the area of recovery where she was, the nurse behind the desk informed me in a near shout, "Excuse me, you can't bring the baby in here!"  I snapped back, "Well, it would be nice if somebody told me that before telling me I could go see my wife who just miscarried!  I don't have anybody with me to watch the baby!"  As I left that area, a few of the other nurses who were around enough to know who I was and what my wife had just been through offered to watch my son while I went in.  As I headed back in empty handed, I approached the nurses' station to ask where my wife was.  The nurse who was there at that point then said I couldn't see her and asked me when she was getting out.  "How the hell should I know?  You're the ones who are supposed to know that!" was the first thing I could say.  At that point, I was very worried about my wife, as I was wondering if, like me, she had been told I could see her and was wondering why I wasn't there yet, and livid at the conflicting instructions I was being given.  I began to storm out ranting about why I wanted to see her so badly, and for them to come find me when they figure out what their policies and procedures were supposed to be.  At last, someone showed me a little compassion and told me where my wife was.  She looked miserable, but relieved to see me, and all I could think to do was hold her until I headed back out.

We left the hospital that same day, and I dropped my wife at home to rest.  The day was nowhere near over yet for me.  Death in the family or not, it was still Halloween.  The older kids, ranging in age from eleven to fifteen at the time, were getting together with friends, and it was my son's first Halloween.  Life was expected to go on, and I was expected to run it.  The afternoon and evening were a blur, but trick or treating happened, and we have pictures of my son in his giraffe costume from that day, and I'm sure everybody ate.  Nighttime came, and I came to bed.  The one person who had the most right not to consider how I was feeling at the moment asked me if I was okay.  If ever I have lied in my marriage, my yes was probably it that night.  The truth was, as I drifted off to sleep that night, I truly wanted to die.  I wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep and not wake up the next morning, and if there had not been a wife and kids on earth who still needed me, I probably could have.  Their need for me was the thin thread on which hung my belief that life was still worth living, so I woke up the next morning, numb and going through the motions.

As months and years went on, I still ached each year on Halloween, finding it hard to celebrate, but the focus of my thoughts was that at least my little baby was safe in Our Lord's arms, until I found out something I had never known in the immediate aftermath.  My wife had been experiencing extreme guilt over what happened that day, as a D&C is not only used after a miscarriage, but as a common surgical abortion procedure.  It should be noted that ultrasound and other technology have made it much easier to confirm fetal death, as was the case with us, so there is a clear difference between removing the already expired baby and an abortion.  Still, given our staunch pro-life beliefs, the similarity haunted my wife for a long time until she had taken the time to process the experience through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing) therapy.  Even after that, finding out the hell she went through for years, about which I was completely clueless, sent me through my own spiral of guilt.  I went through a process unofficially known as "shoulding" on myself.  I should've been able to fight for her the day of the miscarriage; I should've known more about our options; I should've insisted on a wheelchair or stretcher to take her across the hospital; I should've known she was having such a hard time afterwards.  After EMDR therapy, she was doing a lot better, and in many ways I felt reassured.  We were able to celebrate and have fun again last year when Halloween hit.  As has become a tradition, she took the day as a personal day, and we went to see our little boys (yes, we had one more born after the miscarriage) at their school Halloween parades.  I felt safe asking if they were playing Halloween music on Music Choice's "Sounds of the Season" channel (suggestion if anyone who decides the programming is reading this: add "Frankenstein" by Edgar Winter this year).  We cut the pumpkins the night before.  We had fun.  As my wife began to heal, I formed a scab and thought I was okay, but I wasn't.

That Hairpin article ripped the scab from me, and I was bleeding again, as fresh and raw as if it had just happened.  I've been through EMDR to process other traumatic events in my life, and although my next therapy session after reading that article was not EMDR specifically, there was an outpouring that I can say was very similar.  I relived it, dug down deep as I knew I had to do, and I processed my grief and anger at last.  I was able to let go of things about that day for which I had long blamed myself, and that my wife was since able to tell me, "I survived."  I felt like I finally had a right to recover.  I still ache sometimes to see my little girl.  I ache to hold her.  I look forward to seeing her in Heaven when my time is done here, but I don't beg for it.  I believe that life is worth living for as long as I'm here, and however long or short that is, I know I will see my little saints I never got to hold in this life.

I wouldn't say I reached that point even immediately after that therapy session.  It has been insanely busy, without much time to rest, and therefore not much time to "process the processing" I did at therapy.  It hasn't had the opportunity to set fully, and I got to thinking, maybe that's because I haven't shared it yet.  It hit me that maybe that was the last piece of the puzzle I needed, to share my story, so that other men could not have to experience what I did.  Why write it now but wait to post it?  Well, now is when I'm thinking about it, while October, when there are miscarriage awareness events and posts all over social media, is when the population in general might notice it more.  I suppose I'm thinking strategically for maximum benefit for others.  Maybe the fact that the youngest of the girls in my beautiful blended family just left for college the day I wrote it, so I feel a fresh sense of loss that won't be here when this posts.  All my girls on earth are, whether by blood or as a bonus of marriage, are legally adults now, even though they'll always be my little girls in my heart.

Sometimes fathers feel they are not allowed to grieve, that since they didn't have the physical loss that mothers experience, they're expected not to hurt on the inside.  It's sometimes not even acknowledged by organizations that are supposed call attention to miscarriage and infant loss.  I can remember one group having symbols to post to one's Facebook profile.  They had one for mothers, and they had one for friends of those mothers who had experienced miscarriage, but not one for fathers.  I can't even find the website anymore, so I have no idea if they've updated their assortment to let hurting daddies in on it, but even without a picture, I hope friends of couples suffering the loss of miscarriage will think of us too.  Definitely don't do anything less for the women who suffer this grief, but after you've done all you can to comfort a grieving mother, take a moment, take the father aside, and ask him, "How are you holding up?"  I assure you, it makes a world of difference.  If you are a father dealing with miscarriage or infant loss or know someone who is, here are some helpful links:

http://www.october15th.com
http://www.catholicmiscarriagesupport.com/

Also, if you'll indulge me, a few songs that, for one reason or another, have some meaning in relation to that sad day.  Feel free to listen:

I Knew I Loved You
Another Day
I Can Only Imagine
Here's to Us - Language alert, but when I heard it a few years ago on Halloween, the takeaway for me was that it was ok simultaneously to mourn those I lost and celebrate those I have