Patriotism can be a difficult virtue to practice, but the first step is to realize that it is a virtue and an important one at that. Without getting too technical, we can describe patriotism as the love of one’s civic fathers and mothers. It is a reverential love borne of gratitude for the many goods received from the hands of those fathers and mothers: goods such as order, law, peace, unity, concord, beautiful artwork, a witty-wise language like our own English tongue; goods such as national parks, clean drinking water, good roads, the Brooklyn Bridge; and inventions like penicillin, the piano, or flight.

With America’s 250^th birthday or Semiquincentennial coming this July 4^th and with Memorial Day coming up in this special year in our country’s history, we might do well to think more deeply about overcoming the obstacles to a deeper patriotism this summer and beyond.

In our moral tradition of virtue, patriotism is the virtue concerned with social and political life which compliments two others. First among equals is the virtue of religion, which causes us to worship and revere God and all the things of God, Christ’s bride the Church, the sacraments, the Holy Family, the Holy Land, and much more. Second and closer to home is the virtue of piety, which causes us to first obey, then revere, and finally care for our aging parents and our ancestors. We honor our father and mother; we do not scorn them; and we pray for them always.

Like the third virtue patriotism, religion and piety invite us to remember all the many gifts we have been given by Father God and Mother Church and by our fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers. In turn, this remembrance leads to right and just worship, veneration, and honor of those who gave us existence, life, education, salvation, and so much more. Religion, piety, and patriotism—it is a beautiful triad of virtues that moves the soul toward duty.

But while the practice of religion seems clearly spelled out by the Church, and while the practice of piety—albeit wounded by the counterexamples in our sickly and too-worldly culture—is known clearly enough by tradition, common sense, and the plain admonition of the Fourth Commandment, the practice of patriotism presents a more complicated set of problems.

Patriotism can on the one hand become a kind of nationalistic pride whereby the virtue is reduced to eagle screams, electric guitars, fighter jet flyovers, and shouts of “’Merica!” While I enjoy all those things (especially eagle screams), the virtue of patriotism surely must be something more profound, more reverential—less about celebrating oneself and more about revering one’s civic fathers and mothers. Another, very different problem for patriotism today is the now prevalent habit of reviling the virtue of patriotism as entirely vicious, jingoistic, unchristian, and a subjection of the soul to mob impulses and in-group hatred of the foreigner.

In either case, what is missing is a profound, informed memory of the great goods and the many, many good deeds and painful sacrifices made by our Founding Fathers, the founding generation, and the subsequent generations of Americans who both settled and defended the United States. To know is to love, and one cannot love one’s forefathers and forebears if one does not even remember what they have done for us.

The obstacles to this loving memory—this engine of gratitude, patriotism, and, as a result, zeal to do one’s duty for one’s country and countrymen—are apparently threefold: we can suffer (1) from lies told about our forefathers, (2) from selective truths told about our forefathers, or (3) from sheer ignorance of the great and many goods they have done for us. Now selective truths are, in essence, another form of lying, so I suppose the problem is only twofold: we either (a) err about those whom we ought to love and honor or (b) we simply do not know about them at all.

How error enters our thinking about our civic forefathers and Founding Fathers is often the result of an agreeable desire for friendship and peace with others. Someone will say something casually critical about local or national historical figures or society. We can tell there is something off about the vitriol or the harshness of the critique, but to maintain the friendship we try to agree to some elements of their argument without really acquainting ourselves with the facts and without fully suspending rash critical judgment of our forefathers as we ought to in accord with patriotism.

By this I mean that we ought to revere and honor our fathers, and so we ought not to casually accede to harsh criticism without verifying the claim. Piety is helpful here by analogy: if someone said something critical of your mother or father’s past, you would not readily believe the flaw without verification. You might even be suspicious of the person who lodged the criticism so casually without clear proof and sources. Patriotism requires not an ignorant or stubborn partiality, but it does call us to be on guard against the now common tactic of hijacking our desire for moderation and agreeableness by causing us to agree to things about American history and forefathers that simply are not so or are not fair.

The only real solution for this all too typical and often acidic attack on our patriotic loves is zealous study. We have a duty, by the virtue of patriotism, to understand the real story of our Founding, to read their words and learn of their deeds. We need fair but not manipulative history, biography, autobiography, and primary sources. For instance, the National Archives Founders Online is a wonderful resource. To learn about the Semiquincentennial event, the signing of the Declaration, I recommend the new works of my colleagues Matthew Spalding and Brad Birzer.

While study is a cure for sheer ignorance as well, there is also to be recommended the exploration of the many historical markers, battlefields, sites, and museums of the United States as well. Taking the extra moment on an outing to stop at the roadside marker and read what labors were done on the land before our time can be a deeply moving way to foster patriotism on both the local and national level.

Finally, do not forget to speak of one’s forefathers and mothers with loving reverence and gratitude. Even speak of one’s fellow citizens this way as best as one can, emphasizing prudently the positive and lovable points in their character. Doing so is charity and not foolishness. Every so often, take a drink of water from the faucet and say out loud before your children, “Do you realize how many of your fellow Americans worked to bring clean water from the river to our sink? Thank God for all their labors and inventiveness. We are truly blessed.”

These little touches of patriotism can most easily be applied to our fallen American dead this Memorial Day, for in man there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. In a real sense, patriotism is a part of the delicate art of civic friendship, which is the first step in the deepest friendship we are ever blessed to form. For our 250^th birthday, my fellow American Catholics, let us make some effort both to know and to love our country, her people, her principles, and her story of loving care, one generation for the next. If we do so, I am confident that we will also strengthen our familial piety and our practice of that highest virtue of religion.

Author’s Note: To cultivate the virtue of patriotism in your families, immerse them in stories of America’s lands, people, and founding principles. One such compilation, The American Book of Fables, reimagines Aesop for the New World with buffalo and eagles, classic verse, and stunning oil and watercolor illustrations that bring the American landscape to life. Available from Sophia Institute Press and Amazon, or wherever you buy books, this heirloom volume is sure to equip the next generation with the wit, gratitude, and frontier spirit they’ll need to carry forward the republic we’ve been called to love. Watch the video trailer for the book.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

A few years ago, I travelled to Khandwa in Madhya Pradesh, India, to teach classes. My overnight bus to Nagpur was scheduled for 9:30 pm, but it was delayed nearly two hours. I waited at the stop—perhaps dozing off or absorbed in my phone—distracted, not fully attentive. When I finally looked up, the bus had come and gone and was well on its way to my destination. I had missed it.

What should have been a straightforward journey became an ordeal: returning to the pastoral centre where I was staying, then piecing together multiple local transport options the next day. The trip took more than twice as long, in miserable conditions. Because of my impatience and distraction during the wait, I ended up shouldering a far heavier burden than if I had remained watchful.

This small mishap became a parable of a much larger story about impatience in waiting and its deep spiritual consequences.

When the people saw that Moses was slow in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, “Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him” (Ex. 32:1).

In that moment of anxiety, impatience and the desire to seize control gave birth to idolatry. Fresh from deliverance, enriched with Egypt’s gold and silver (Ex. 12:35–36), the Israelites craved a visible leader to guide them through the wilderness. They hurried to forge a golden calf—an inert object that had to be carried on human shoulders.

The irony is striking: they wanted a god to lead them, yet ended up bearing a powerless burden themselves. Moses had ascended the mountain to commune with God and to receive the Law written on stone, but he returned to find the covenant shattered before it had truly begun. Impatience had undone it. Three thousand fell, and the path forward lay broken.

Miriam, Moses’ sister and a prophetess, offers a poignant glimpse into the promise and fragility of the Old Covenant. She once led Israel in triumphant praise after the Red Sea:

Miriam the prophetess…took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dancing. And Miriam sang to them, “Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously…” (Ex. 15:20–21)

Yet in Numbers 12, she falters—speaking against Moses out of envy and presumption: “Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has he not spoken through us also?” (Num. 12:2). Her challenge to God’s chosen mediator results in her being struck with leprosy, and she must remain outside the camp for seven days. Only after her purification may she return. All of Israel waits for her restoration before continuing its journey.

Miriam’s prophetic song faltered when the test of waiting came. Yet patient fidelity was precisely what Israel was meant to learn in the desert. St. Paul later commends this same attitude to Timothy while explaining his own possible delay: “that you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and foundation of the truth” (1 Tim. 3:15). Rather than grasping at control, Israel was called to wait humbly and follow God’s plan.

In the New Testament, there is an analogous episode of waiting. The way it turns out can be a lesson to us. Christ, the new and greater Moses, ascends to the Father (Acts 1:9–11), promising “power from on high” (Lk. 24:49). The disciples gather in the Upper Room in prayer: “All these with one accord devoted themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brethren” (Acts 1:14).

This time, the community is patient. Unlike the Israelites, the disciples have no gold or silver to melt into an idol (Acts 3:6). They have “left everything” to follow Jesus (Mt. 19:27; Mk. 10:28). They trust in His promise of a hundredfold recompense “now in this present age…with persecutions” and eternal life to come (Mk. 10:29–30). Stripped of possessions, they possess only faith. Their emptiness becomes the space for divine fullness; their only recourse is waiting.

The blessed mother Mary—bearing the same name as Moses’s sister (Miriam/Mariam)—appears as the true and perfected fulfillment of that earlier figure. Mary knew and believed in God’s promises: from the Annunciation (Lk. 1:32–33), through the inspired greeting she received from her cousin Elizabeth (Lk. 1:43), to her own beautiful Magnificat (Lk. 1:46–55), Mary understood that her Son is the fulfilment of God’s covenant with Abraham.

The contemporary Christmas pop song “Mary, Did You Know?” poses a question that reflects little familiarity with the biblical portrait of Mary. The Gospel itself leaves little doubt: Mary did know, and she lived that knowledge in patient, faith-filled surrender. Her fiat (“Let it be done to me according to your word,” [Lk. 1:38]) extended into the Upper Room, where she pondered in her heart (Lk. 2:19, 51) and taught the disciples how to wait on the Lord: in prayerful communion, without covetousness and without distraction.

At Pentecost, the promise arrives—not as a heavy, earth-bound idol carried by weary hands, but as wind and fire descending, filling the house, and writing the Law on hearts (Acts 2:1–4; cf. Jer. 31:33; Ezek. 36:26–27; 2 Cor. 3:3). The golden calf symbolized human impatience grasping at control: fashioned from material wealth, immobile except when humans bore it. The Holy Spirit descends gently like a dove (cf. Mt. 3:16; Gen. 8:11). Harmless (Mt. 10:16), spotless, and mild, as St. Thomas Aquinas notes, the Spirit gives freedom, purity, and peace (Summa Theologiae III, q. 39, a. 6, ad 4). He brings understanding and emancipation from within.

Here is another identifying parallel: where impatience at Sinai led to the death of three thousand, patient waiting at Pentecost brought salvation to three thousand. The Church turned from dead idol to the living and life-giving Spirit; from broken stone tablets to grace inscribed on the heart. That should fill us with assurance: “Yet a little while, and the coming one will come and will not delay” (Heb. 10:37). The blind guide that kept us wandering gives way to the Spirit who carries us, for the Lord’s forbearance is our salvation.

Mary teaches the Church what Israel had yet to learn: to wait upon the Lord without contriving alternatives, trusting that what seems like delay is often the very means by which God brings His promises to fulfilment.

In our culture of immediate gratification, when God seems delayed—in prayer, vocation, suffering, or the world’s brokenness—we fashion golden calves: distractions, self-reliance, false securities. Missing my bus taught me that divided attention while waiting only creates burdens of our own making.

What if, instead, we imitated Mary—letting go of everything, embracing poverty of spirit, and waiting attentively in prayer? We trust that what appears to be delay is in fact mercy, as the New Testament teaches: “The Lord is not slow…but is patient toward you” (2 Pet. 3:9), and “Yet a little while, and the coming one will come and will not delay” (Heb. 10:37). In such patient endurance we learn to live rightly in God’s household, becoming pillars of truth until the promise is fulfilled.

Pentecost does not simply conclude the story; it reveals what faithful waiting finally becomes. The disciples gathered in the Upper Room do not attempt to force God’s hand, nor do they manufacture a false god of their own. They pray. They remain together. And at the heart of that quiet expectancy stands Mary, the perfect example of patience. The Church is born from this shared attentiveness. The God who once bore Israel “on eagles’ wings” out of bondage (Ex. 19:4), and who carried His people through the wilderness “as a man carries his son” (Deut. 1:31), now lifts the Church by the breath of His Spirit, turning the burden of the Law into the freedom of life in the Spirit.

Come, Holy Spirit, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, who prayed with the apostles in the Upper Room as the Church awaited Your coming. As You overshadowed her at the dawn of the new creation, descend again upon us. Carry us where we cannot carry ourselves, teach us to wait with attentive hearts, and liberate us from the impulse to grasp what belongs to Your Providence alone. Gather us into patient hope, and bring to completion in us the life You have begun. Amen.

Photo by Low Angle on Unsplash

On Resurrection Day, Jesus breathed on His disciples, a gesture odd in itself but packed with meaning for our celebration of Pentecost.

Gospel (Read Jn. 20:19-23)

This Sunday’s Gospel tells us that Jesus surprised the disciples “on the evening of that first day of the week” by appearing in their midst without using a door (locked “for fear of the Jews”).  We wonder if He had to calm them down a bit, because He said, twice, “Peace be with you.”  We can imagine how startled they were.  He showed them His wounds, in case they thought He was a ghost.  Then, Jesus gave the apostles an astonishing commission: “As the Father has sent Me, so I send you.” 

What had begun three years earlier with a call to “Follow Me” (Mt. 4:19) culminated in a sending out.  Their work was to be a continuation of the divine apostleship of Jesus (“apostle” means “one sent”; see Heb. 3:1). 

If we have paid attention to the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ companionship with these men, we have seen clear indications that He intended to give the apostles authority to build His Church and do His work.  We are impressed by the scope of their mission but not really surprised by it.  However, after announcing His directive to them, Jesus steps out of the expected with an action that can only be described as strange:  “He breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” 

Don’t let familiarity with this verse rob it of its shock value.  Why on earth did Jesus breathe on His apostles?

To understand this moment, so different from anything we’ve yet seen in any Gospel account, we have to go back to the beginning, to the first time divinity breathed on humanity.  At Creation, “the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being” (Gen. 2:7).  There is no clearer image than this of God’s desire to impart His own life into man, who is made in His image and likeness.  Adam and Eve’s fall into sin robbed them (and us) of their inheritance as God’s children, but the entire story of salvation reveals God’s plan to restore and renew His life in us. 

So vivid is this image of God’s breath in man that it appears again at the time of the prophet, Ezekiel.  God’s people, Israel, were in exile in Babylon; they had been ravaged by their enemies as punishment for their covenant unfaithfulness.  They represent all of us who are spiritually dead and entirely helpless.  However, in His unrelenting determination to restore His people, God says to Ezekiel (whom He called “son of man”):  “‘Son of man, can these bones live?’  And I answered, ‘O LORD God, Thou knowest.’  Again He said, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD…Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live…and you shall know that I am the LORD’” (Ez. 36:3-6).

When we know this Old Testament history, Jesus breathing on the apostles on Resurrection Day no longer seems so odd, does it?  In this gesture, He begins the divinization of man, always God’s intention for His children.  The renewal of humanity begins, once again, with the breath of God.  For the apostles, this unique action enabled them to truly be Jesus’ continuing presence on earth.  They will forgive or retain sins, an action reserved for Divinity.  What about the rest of us?  Will the breath of God blow on us, too?  The other readings will help answer this question.

Possible response:  Father, thank You for loving us enough to share Your own breath with us—a marvel beyond description.

First Reading (Read Acts 2:1-11)

At His Ascension, Jesus told the apostles not to start on their mission of making disciples of all nations until they received “power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you” (Acts 1:8).  This helps us see that Jesus’ action of breathing on them on Resurrection Day was an initiation into the Holy Spirit, not the fullness they were meant to have.  For that, Jesus had them wait for the Jewish feast of Pentecost, nine days later. 

Pentecost originally had been a harvest festival in the Jewish liturgical calendar; gradually it also became associated with a memorial celebration of God’s giving of the Law to His people at Mt. Sinai, when they had been delivered from slavery in Egypt.  The Law, or Torah, gave the people a way of life that would distinguish them from all other peoples on earth.  To seal the covenant, God actually came down on top of Mt. Sinai, manifested in fire, smoke, thunder, an earthquake, and the loud sound of a trumpet (see Ex. 19:16-19).  It was quite the fireworks show!

We need to know this history, because it helps us understand why Jesus waited until Pentecost to send the Holy Spirit on His Church.  Drawing on all the parallels with God’s visit to Mt. Sinai, the Jews gathered there in Jerusalem that day could comprehend this action as the “harvest” of God’s people, ready now, because of Jesus’ accomplished work, to receive God’s new Law of Love, to be written not on stone tablets but in the hearts of men by the Holy Spirit.  Just as God’s descent on Sinai meant the formation of Israel as a nation, the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost meant the formation of Jews and Gentiles into the Church, the new Israel.

Of course, the events on Pentecost evoke the deep symbolism of wind and fire throughout the Old Testament, not just at the Mt. Sinai covenant.  At Creation, “the wind” of God (literally, God’s “breath”) hovered over the waters of the earth, ready to do God’s bidding as He brought forth life (Gen. 1:2).  The “wind” of God also blew apart the waters of the Red Sea so God’s people could escape from their enemies, the Egyptians.  As for fire, recall that God first appeared to Moses, the deliverer of His people, in a fiery bush.  Also, the people had to follow a pillar of fire to make their way home to the Promised Land.

The more we know of the imagery representing God in the Old Testament, the more we understand the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost as an explosion of fulfilled promises!  See that the tongues of fire rested over each of the apostles.  They will now be God’s presence in His Church, leading His people on their journey home to heaven.  To this day, the bishops of the Church, who are successors of these apostles, wear hats (mitres) in the shape of a flame of fire.  They are marked out as our pillars of fire, leading us on our pilgrim journey home to heaven.

What about the effects of all this amazing action?  The apostles were miraculously able to communicate the Gospel in the foreign tongues of the Jews assembled there.  All male Jews were required to make a yearly pilgrimage to Jerusalem for this feast; that explains why “there were devout Jews from every nation” there. 

This immediately evokes the history of Babel (see Gen. 11:1-9).  There human pride made a grab at heaven by building a tower up to God.  The solidarity of men (made possible by one language) was perverted to accomplish an evil end.  God broke it by confusing the one language into many. 

Now, in the fullness of time, God grants the human solidarity for which man longs (because he is made for that) but which he cannot naturally achieve.  The Holy Spirit creates supernatural solidarity, represented here by all men being able to hear, in their own language, the mighty works of God.  This time, God reaches down to man rather than man trying to climb up to God.

So, now that we understand something of the background of Pentecost, we can ask whether all the rest of us who aren’t apostles will also have a share in this breath of God.  The answer is YES.  In verses not included in this reading, Peter answers the “what about us?” question:  “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:28).  Jesus wants to breathe on all of us and thus renew the face of the earth.

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, may Your Church always live in the joy of Pentecost, in awe of Your power and presence.

Psalm (Read Ps. 104:1, 24, 29-30, 31, 34)

This psalm celebrates the life-giving power of God’s Spirit.  Written long before the Day of Pentecost, it nevertheless summarizes both the past and the future.  “If you take away their breath, they perish and return to their dust” (Ps. 104:29) reminds us of the Fall, at the beginning of man’s story.  Disobedience led to death:  “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Gen. 3:19b). 

“When You send forth Your Spirit, they are created, and You renew the face of the earth” (Ps. 104:30) describes our celebration this Sunday.  The world, weary in sin, is in dire need of refreshment and renewal.  Maybe we are, too.  The psalm response is the perfect Pentecost prayer:  “Lord, send out Your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth.”

Possible response: The psalm is, itself, a response to our other readings.  Read it again prayerfully to make it your own.

Second Reading (Read 1 Cor. 12:3b-7, 12-13)

The Gospel showed us God’s desire to once again breathe His life into man.  The Book of Acts showed us that the gift of God’s breath, the Holy Spirit, entered the stream of human history on the Day of Pentecost, producing miraculous results.  In the epistle, St. Paul gives us a theological reflection on the meaning of all this history.  He explains that none of us can confess Jesus as Lord without the Holy Spirit.  Our Christian Faith is, itself, a work of God’s breath, the Spirit, in us. 

That Spirit gives to believers a wide variety of spiritual gifts, creating diversity of service in His Church.  However, because it is “the same God” Who produces this diversity, we are “one body.”  St. Paul’s emphasis here is on the unity created by the Holy Spirit.  Let’s consider this for a moment.

Unity is the distinguishing characteristic of the Trinity—three Persons in One.  Man, created in the image and likeness of God, is hard-wired for unity, for communion with both God and others.  Sin shattered this unity. (Recall the immediate fracture of Adam and Eve’s relationship with God and each other in the Garden.)  Babel showed us that when men actually cobble together unity, their pride bends them towards a perverse use of it.  God’s descent on Mt. Sinai was for the purpose of forming one nation for Himself out of many tribes.  He gave them one way to worship and one law to live by. 

In time, that nation fractured, and a large part of it completely disappeared.  Men cannot create unity for themselves, although their hearts long for it.  Fittingly, unity in His Church was the one thing for which Jesus prayed as He faced His Passion:  “I…pray…that they may all be one…so that the world may believe that You have sent Me” (Jn. 17:20-21).

On Pentecost, God sent His breath to create supernatural unity.  It was experienced immediately among the first converts, and it is a constant manifestation of God’s breath in His Church, 2000 years later.  The life of Jesus in us, the Holy Spirit, holds us in His one Body.  Unity at last—alleluia!

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, forgive me when I rebel against unity—wanting my own way, isolating myself.  Let Your Spirit lead me to the unity for which my heart longs.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

I had a very difficult situation arise in the wake of my father’s death. A person in a position of authority, who by all accounts was filled with light and joy, led us astray. I knew it was false. I battled against it alone. The difficulty for me was the seemingly radiant light and joy emanating from this person. The things they said were half-truths and reminiscent of Pilate, which is why I left the situation deeply troubled in spirit. I was left to fend for myself spiritually, and I was made the villain for defending the truth. I have spent over a year working through what I now believe was false light coming from this person.

In Ignatian discernment of spirits, the hardest spirits to discern are those of false light. They propose seeming good to us so we can easily be led astray or become confused in decision making. We live in an age of false light. The debates in the Church that seek to destroy moral teachings are a good example. Those who propose changing the Church’s sexual morality, for instance, do it from a form of false light. They claim it is loving to do so. The clergy and others who propose these changes are personable and charismatic, so people easily fall under their sway.

The Lord warned us of false prophets. It is easy to fall prey to these leaders because they exude an attractive light. Most Catholics have not been taught how to properly discern spirits. All of us are being influenced by good and evil spirits on a daily basis. The enemy of our souls wants to lead us away from Christ. In the beginning of the spiritual journey, the enemy uses worldly pleasures that keep us trapped in patterns of mortal sin, but as we spiritually progress, the tactics change and become harder to discern. False light becomes the main tactic.

Most people are not attracted to evil for evil’s sake. There are socio- or psychopaths who enjoy evil for the sake of evil, but the majority of people fall into evil because they are attracted to a good that is lacking in a given situation. In the case of sexual morality, they are attracted to the good of sex created by God, but they are engaging in it in an illicit manner, i.e. outside of marriage, homosexual relations, contraception, etc.

Discernment gets trickier when people placed in authority over us propose teachings in a manner that doesn’t fully contradict Church teaching but plays both sides of the issue. They end up becoming Pilate because they wash their hands of the truth who is Christ in the process. There is in fact a deep spirit of Pilate infecting the Church at present.

For those of us seeking to be obedient to the Church and who desire to remain with Christ in His Church, it can be deeply disconcerting to encounter this issue. It leaves us confused as we listen to someone who seems to love Christ and who exudes a certain radiant joy in their presence. The light in the person is palpable. I found the experience extremely disorienting and painful.

After much prayer and thought, I started to realize that people like who I encountered have embraced a false Luciferian light. It is one of the most difficult forms of light to spot in our day, especially in an age that is grounded in basing everything on feelings and emotions rather than the truth and the firm foundation of Church teaching. “If it feels good, then it must be right” is the mantra of the day. Combining false light and emotions is a powerful elixir to be used for deception.

As I spent time in prayer, the Lord guided me through the difficult situation. He helped me understand why the false light was so confusing. That is the purpose of this type of light. To create confusion and doubt in the soul. Even though I defended the Church’s teachings in a difficult and problematic situation, I left feeling like I was the one at fault. I was made the enemy in the situation. The deep doubt sewed within me was not from the Holy Spirit. It was from the enemy.

In Ephesians 6:10-17, the Lord, through St. Paul, tells us how to prepare for spiritual battle:

Finally, grow strong in the Lord, with the strength of his power. Put on the full armour of God so as to be able to resist the devil’s tactics. For it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle, but against the principalities and the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world, the spirits of evil in the heavens. That is why you must take up all God’s armour, or you will not be able to put up any resistance on the evil day, or stand your ground even though you exert yourselves to the full. So stand your ground, with truth a belt round your waist, and uprightness a breastplate, wearing for shoes on your feet the eagerness to spread the gospel of peace and always carrying the shield of faith so that you can use it to quench the burning arrows of the Evil One. And then you must take salvation as your helmet and the sword of the Spirit, that is, the word of God.

This is how we are to live as we battle “powers and principalities” in this life. The situation I found myself in was one such battle.

To navigate this false light, the Lord reminded me to stay close to Him through the supernatural gift of faith, but also through the Faith that is handed on in the Church. I trust completely that what the Church teaches is the fullness of truth. Second, I had to remember that the authentic light of Christ can only be seen if it conforms to the truth. In this situation, the truth was not present. It was half-truth for the sake of a false appeasement and accompaniment. This person’s embrace of partial truths led them to embrace Luciferian light, which was emanating out of them. This created spiritual blindness in the person and in others led astray by their false teachings.

In an age like ours, it is essential that we cling to the truth. The truth can be found in the Church’s perennial teachings. These do not change regardless of the zeitgeist of any given period in history. The current heresies of our day center around the human person, family, and sexuality. False forms of light and love are everywhere, including within the Church. As the lay faithful, we must constantly remember that false light abounds around us and the only way to see that false light is through the lens of truth guided by faith. Through faith in Christ and His Church, we can trust in the truth of the Church’s teachings that are unchangeable.

There are countless people who have found themselves in the same situation as I did who walk away confused and disoriented. The seeming light emanating from these individuals is undeniable, and oftentimes, blinding. People have left the Church after experiencing what I did because it causes such deep pain and doubt. We must don the spiritual weapons given to us by Christ so we can rightly discern the presence of Luciferian light. If the truth is lacking, it is the enemy who is operating. There is no need for self-doubt because Christ is Light and Truth.

Photo by Miguel Alcântara on Unsplash

Why Beginnings Matter for Bioethics and Moral Courage

When does a human being begin to be? At first glance, the question seems simple, much as the question of when a person dies can seem simple. In reality, both stand at the center of the most urgent bioethical debates of our time. The question of human beginnings cannot be answered by biology alone, nor by metaphysics alone. Biology describes processes; metaphysics asks what kind of being is present. Moral theology then depends upon the answer. If a human being is present, justice is owed. If not, manipulation soon follows.

This is why the question of beginnings is so consequential. It is not an abstract puzzle for philosophers. It is the fault line beneath embryo experimentation, IVF, abortion, selective reduction, embryonic stem-cell research, and the broader modern struggle over cooperation with evil.

Norman Ford and Delayed Hominization

One of the most influential contemporary defenders of delayed hominization was Fr. Norman Ford, especially in his 1988 book When Did I Begin? Ford argued that although a new living entity comes into existence at fertilization, an individual human being does not yet exist until roughly two weeks later, around the appearance of the primitive streak. Before that point, he maintained, twinning remains possible, and individuation is therefore not yet secure.

This was no minor academic dispute. Ford’s position helped provide philosophical support for the now-famous fourteen-day rule permitting embryo experimentation. If there is not yet a human individual before that stage, then the early embryo becomes morally ambiguous—not a human being already present, but a being whose humanity remains somehow undecided.

That way of framing the beginning already concedes too much to a technological imagination. It treats the embryo not according to what it is, but according to what it can be shown to do. The question shifts from substantial being to observable thresholds. And once that shift is made, personhood becomes vulnerable to developmental benchmarks, functional criteria, and conditional recognition.

The embryo is no longer received as one of us from conception. It is evaluated as a possible human being awaiting later confirmation. That move changes everything. Although Ford later revised his position, his earlier work continues to be invoked in support of embryonic manipulation of many kinds.

St. Thomas, Aristotle, and the Human Soul

St. Thomas Aquinas is sometimes invoked in defense of delayed hominization because he inherited the Aristotelian embryology available in his time. On that older account, the developing embryo was not understood to be a fully human organism from the start. Rather, it was thought to pass through successive stages of life: first vegetative, then sensitive, and only later rational. “Hominization,” in this context, refers to the point at which the specifically human soul—the rational soul—is present. For Aristotle, and thus for Thomas on the basis of the biology then available, that moment did not occur immediately at conception, but only after the developing body had reached a sufficient degree of organization.

But once we understand what Thomas means by the human person, we can also see why the issue cannot be settled by simply repeating medieval biology. For Aquinas, a human being is neither a soul trapped in a body nor a body later inhabited by a soul. The human person is a substantial unity of body and soul: a hylomorphic unity of matter and form. The soul is the substantial form of the body, the principle of life, unity, and development. There is no human body without a human soul, and no human soul that is not the form of a human body.

This matters because substantial being does not admit of a gradual halfway state. A thing either exists as a unified substance or it does not. Accidental change may unfold gradually, but substantial generation does not. The metaphysical question, then, becomes precise: when does a new human substance begin to exist?

That is where modern embryology changes the discussion. Aristotle and the medievals lacked any knowledge of gametes, fertilization, genetic identity, or the embryo’s internally coordinated development from its first instant. They therefore assumed that the early embryo was not yet a unified human organism, but a living reality that only gradually became proportioned to rational life. Modern embryology denies that premise. It shows that from fertilization there already exists a new, integrated, self-directing organism of the human species.

If that is true, then the older theory of delayed hominization loses its biological foundation. The metaphysical principles of Aquinas remain, but their application must change in light of better science. If a new human organism is already present at fertilization, then it is more coherent to say that the human being is present from the beginning, rather than to imagine a merely biological precursor later becoming one. Modern embryology does not deny Thomistic metaphysics; it corrects the incomplete embryology once joined to it.

What Contemporary Embryology Shows

Contemporary embryology allows us to state the point with far greater precision. Even Ford himself, in his later work, no longer described fertilization as a loose association of parts gradually becoming one. Rather, sperm and ovum fuse, the gametes cease to exist as such, and a new organism begins: the zygote. What follows is not the assembly of a human being from the outside, but the unfolding of a new living being from within.

This new being is not a mere collection of cells. It exhibits coordinated and self-directed activity from the beginning. It initiates gene expression proper to itself. It regulates its own development internally. It does not behave as a part of the mother, nor as a mere aggregate, but as a distinct organism with its own intrinsic developmental trajectory.

From a Thomistic perspective, this matters immensely. A being that acts as an organized whole from within is not waiting for substantial unity to arrive later. Immanent causality—the capacity of a living thing to direct its own growth and activity from within—is a sign of living substance. The zygote is not merely being organized by something external. It is already an organized whole acting as one.

The Twinning Objection

Ford’s central argument depended on twinning. If an embryo can split into two individuals, he argued, it cannot yet be one individual. But that conclusion does not follow. The capacity to generate another individual does not negate one’s own individuality. An amoeba that divides is not therefore non-individual before division; it is one organism that gives rise to another. Twinning may reveal developmental plasticity, but it does not prove the absence of ontological unity. In Thomistic terms, generation presupposes substance. The power to generate another does not negate present being.

Ford also tried to distinguish the embryo proper from extra-embryonic structures such as the placenta. But from a Thomistic standpoint, this does not help unless one can show that these structures are not organically ordered to the good of the developing whole. An organ is not defined by permanence, but by function within an organized whole. Milk teeth are temporary. Hair is shed. Cells are constantly replaced. Yet all are genuinely parts of the organism. The placenta likewise is formed by the embryo, for the embryo, and serves the embryo’s development. It is therefore not evidence against substantial unity, but evidence of an organism already acting as one.

Finality and the Inner Logic of Development

Perhaps the strongest Thomistic argument concerns final causality. Aristotle and Aquinas both insist that natural substances act toward ends. Teleology is not something imposed upon living beings from the outside. It belongs to them from within.

The embryo displays just such an inner directedness from the beginning. Gene expression unfolds in ordered sequence. Cellular differentiation occurs in relation to the whole. Cells communicate and cooperate. Development is not random, but internally ordered toward maturation. If the end is virtually present at the beginning, then the principle directing that development must likewise be present from the beginning.

In Thomistic thought, that principle is the soul. It is not added later to a body already organized by some lesser principle. It is the substantial form that makes a living body to be the kind of body it is, directing its development from within from the first instant of its existence. For that reason, the older theory of delayed animation cannot simply be repeated today. Aristotle and the medievals were working with an incomplete embryology. Their metaphysical principles remain profound, but once the biological premise is corrected, the conclusion must be reconsidered. If a new human organism begins at fertilization, then it is most coherent to say that the human being—and thus the rational soul—is present from that beginning.

Why the Moral Stakes Are So High

The moral stakes are enormous. If the human substance begins at fertilization, then justice is owed from that moment. If not, moral protection becomes negotiable. That is why one of the most important distinctions in all pro-life reasoning is that the embryo is not a potential human being but a human being with potential.

That is not rhetoric. It is metaphysics. The potential in question is not the potential to become human, but the potential to develop as the kind of being one already is. An infant grows as a human being, not into one. So too the embryo develops as a human being, not toward becoming one.

The question of beginnings passes directly into moral theology. One cannot judge the morality of embryo destruction, experimentation, or manipulation without first answering the prior question, “What is the embryo?” Metaphysics therefore precedes moral analysis. If the embryo is a human being from fertilization, then what is done to it is not the disposal of biological material but the destruction of innocent human life.

That is why this debate matters so much. If we lose clarity about what a human being is and when one begins, we will soon lose clarity about what we may and may not do. Procedure will replace principle, sophistry and propaganda will replace truth, and the weakest human beings will be placed at the mercy of power.

To defend the beginning of the human person, then, is not merely to resolve a biological dispute. It is to safeguard the metaphysical foundation of human dignity. Only where that foundation remains clear can moral judgment remain clear as well.

Editor’s Note: This article is part of a CE original series on Bioethics & Culture by Fr. Francesco Giordano, tackling the challenging moral issues of our day.

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Allow a moment for two brief definitions for the terms in the title of this reflection. They will be essential for understanding the progression of thought through this two-part series.

The first term, “inheritance,” is the acquisition of a valuable possession or condition from a previous generation, which also has potential to be a common heritage for the next generation (synthesizing multiple definitions from Merriam-Webster). An inheritance, then, can be either material or spiritual, and in either case it can be both received and given. Thus, we will examine the receiving and giving in due turn, with the first half below.

The next term, “righteousness,” is generally associated with moral rectitude established by good qualities and deeds. Yet, in Judeo-Christian understanding, right relationship with God is the foundation and pinnacle of righteousness. By this formula, the upright moral living initially implied by the word happens as a result of right relationship with the Lord. Second things follow from first things; works and actions follow from relationship.

As we seek the inheritance of righteousness that our God has in store for us, we can see a certain pattern play out again and again in the biblical story of salvation history. The characters of the sacred story show us the gift God wants to provide to us, and the way such a gift causes us to act and live. Therefore, if we trace the pattern identified in the Bible, we will come to know the inheritance God intends for each of us, and we will better understand how it unfolds in our lives today.

Near the very beginning of the historical timeline, in the mythical time of pre-history, Job expresses this understanding clearly. While he is suffering deeply, Job cries out that no man could be righteous on his own, but he later acknowledges that “the righteous holds to his way, and he who has clean hands grows stronger and stronger” (cf. Job 4:17; 17:9). By Job’s logic, something made him righteous, and after that transformative event he could cultivate righteousness, making it grow stronger.

Before the flood in Genesis, Noah is identified as a man who “found favor in the eyes of the Lord,” and thus was called “a righteous man, blameless in his generation.” The grace of God’s favor came before anything else. Later, out of the gift of right relationship with God, Noah “did all that God commanded him,” acting in great trust when all available evidence pointed in a different direction (Gen. 6-9).

Generations after Noah, Abraham (originally called Abram) responded in righteousness to the inheritance God wanted to give him. He “went, as the Lord had told him” (Gen. 12:4), toward a new land that would be a sign of the inheritance. By this act of trust, “he believed the Lord, and [God] counted to him as righteousness” (Gen. 15:6). God made a gift of grace, which was to allow Abram to hear His divine voice. Hearing that Voice caused Abraham to act in a way that would sustain and foster the covenant relationship with the heavenly Father. Other episodes in Abraham’s life extend this very dynamic, such as the conception of his son, Isaac, and God’s request that Abraham sacrifice his beloved son.

After four hundred years of slavery in Egypt and forty years of wandering in the Sinai desert, Moses spoke this understanding to Israel in a series of sermons recorded in Deuteronomy. There, he explains that God has a land He intends them to enter and keep as an inheritance. He reminds them, however, that this inheritance will only remain with them by walking according to the statutes of righteousness: “And it will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us” (Dt. 6:25).

Later, in the same lengthy sermon, Moses identifies the blessings God will pour out on Israel, in stark contrast to the curses incurred for disobedience:

And if you faithfully obey the voice of the Lord your God, being careful to do all his commandments that I command you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations of the earth. And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you… (Dt. 28:1-2, 16ff)

Still, the gift of liberation from slavery and the gift of land came first. Learning to live righteously happened as a response to those gifts.

Nearer the end of the historical narrative, Nehemiah—a leader in post-exilic Israel—recalls Abraham and identifies the reason anyone can act righteously: “You are the Lord, the God who chose…Abraham. You found his heart faithful before you, and made with him the covenant…And you have kept your promise, for you are righteous” (Neh. 9:7-8). Because God is righteous, He shares His righteousness with the people who are in covenant relationship with Him. God’s people inherit His right relationship and thus can act to sustain that communion!

Between Moses and Nehemiah (among many other examples) stands David, the great King of Israel and perhaps the most iconic expression of this inheritance of righteousness. David, of course, would have known his nation’s story, and their disposition toward God. He would have known the Torah, including the Israelite admission that their entrance into the Promised Land was not because of their own righteousness. The Lord had gifted the land, the military victories, and the national security.

After David had been delivered from the threats of King Saul he sang a hymn to the Lord: “The Lord dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he rewarded me. […] And the Lord has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to my cleanness in his sight” (2 Sam. 22:21, 25). Later, after he had been delivered from the threats of surrounding nations and had established peace—when the Lord made the covenant with him—David prayed, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far…you have done all this greatness…” (1 Chr. 17:16-19). David expressed the same reality as the others: any righteousness he had, any righteous way he acted, was already in response to the righteousness bestowed first by God.

Because David knew this reality so well, he wrote it into his poetry he used, and Israel used, for worship—that is, the Psalms. Among all the Psalms that identify and explain the inheritance of righteousness, Psalm 112 seems to crystalize it better than any other. This poem sings of the man who fears the Lord and “greatly delights in his commandments.” The psalmist tells us, that “his righteousness endures forever,” for “the righteous will never be moved.” The psalmist continues, describing the disposition and actions of the righteous man. “His heart is steady; he will not be afraid,” “He is not afraid of bad news,” “he is gracious, merciful, and just,” he “deals generously and lends,” and he “conducts his affairs with justice.” Clearly the righteous man of Psalm 112 has received something solid, enduring, and worthy of sharing generously—an inheritance of righteousness.

All this leads us to the waning days of the old covenant-era and the man whom St. Matthew the Evangelist calls “a righteous man” (Mt. 1:19, NAB). St. Joseph must have been described that way because he had appropriated the story of God’s inheritance to Israel; because he had imitated the example of those righteous men of the old covenants; because he exhibited those qualities proclaimed by the Psalmist. This is precisely why Jesus’ earthly father is known as such a powerful witness and intercessor, assisting us in becoming righteous and building up righteousness in the next generation.

Thus, in the age of the Church, we who are followers of Jesus ought to look toward all these examples of righteousness. From the first to the last, each of these men marks out some part of the pattern of righteousness that will keep us in right relationship with God. Taken all together, they show us that the inheritance we receive is bestowed first by God’s grace, mercy, and power; and then we desire and choose to live differently. This, then, will be the foundation of turning and bestowing this precious inheritance on the next generations.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

About twenty years ago, I was at a Mass celebrated by Fr. Richard McAlear, OMI (frmac.org), a well-known priest with the gift and charism of healing. Fr. McAlear prayed over each person who came forward and spoke a few words with them. When it was my turn, Father held my face, looked into my eyes and saw.

He began to smile and lightly chuckled. He said, “You love Jesus and desire to follow Him. But sometimes you get scared and just want to cut and run.” He kept looking at me with that gentle smile. I said, “But where would I go?” referring to this exchange between Jesus and St. Peter:

Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” (Jn. 6:67-68)

Fr. McAlear nodded slowly, and with his face turning more solemn said, “Pray for courage and strength, courage and strength.” He patted my cheek lightly and went on to the next soul.

I cannot convey the depth of power those few words, that brief exchange, have had in my life. Jesus gave Fr. McAlear insight into my two biggest problems: lack of trust in God and an inability to persevere in difficult situations. Ever since that day, when confronted with these two important weaknesses, I recall Fr. McAlear’s words, I stop what I am doing and pray, asking Jesus for more courage and strength, courage and strength.

My Vocation Is…

St. Therese of Lisieux, after a long struggle to discover what her life as a Carmelite was about, famously said, “My vocation is love!” If she couldn’t be a missionary or a soldier or a priest or any of the other things her wildly generous heart wished to be, she realized that she was to be love burning brightly inside the cloister.

“At last I have found my vocation. In the heart of the Church, I will be Love!”

One of the reasons St. Therese’s revelation is so important to each member of the Body of Christ is because her vocation is also ours. We are all called to be love in the midst of whatever else God calls us to be and to do.

That “whatever else” is a difficult matter, one that requires hours of prayer and discernment by anyone serious about the spiritual life. But the heart of our vocation is to be who God created us to be, shedding our own and others’ expectations which comprise a false self. This is an important step in becoming the unique person God had in His mind’s eye when He first thought of us.

Together this vocation to be love and this work of becoming our true self allow the person God intended to emerge. That person is needed and irreplaceable in the world. If we do not choose to be love and shed the false self, then the world will lack what God intended it to have.   

Can You Receive Love?

St. Therese had a gift for receiving love. She allowed herself to be cared for to such an extent that she did not learn to dress herself until well past normal age. No hard exterior of self-protection formed on St. Therese’s soul within the loving embrace of her doting family. Instead, a uniquely loved and lovable person was nurtured and then sent forth to Carmel for God to do with as He would.

Are we as capable of receiving love? I know that often I am not. I have defense mechanisms and prideful barriers to love in place, though I wish it were not so. In this inability to receive the love that comes to me, even from God, I fail to become whom God created me to be.

I reverently suggest that many if not most of us have a need to learn how to be loved. To fulfill our vocation to love, we must first learn how to receive love. To be and do all God asks of us for His glory, the salvation of souls, and even for our own good, we must first let go of our protective mechanisms and courageously become the beloved. St. Irenaeus famously said, “the glory of God is man fully alive.” To serve that glory we must shed our false selves and become fully alive by receiving the love God gives.  

Only in receiving His love, only in being His beloved, can we truly know God. There is no other way to know Love Himself than by being His beloved. All else is knowing about Love, about God, which is important and good, but it is not the same as knowing Him.

The love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Rom. 5:5)

This love of God has been poured out into us so that we may be able to receive it, live in it, possess it, and be it. We can do all of this only by letting go of the protective measures we have built around our hearts over a lifetime of injuries from others and from our own sins, faults, and failings. Letting go of these protective measures can only be done through the graces of courage and strength.

It takes courage to let go of the false protection we have created and be vulnerable to new hurts, trusting God is with us in it all. It takes strength not to fall back into old patterns of being that stop us from becoming the people God created. Knowing that God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, we will be able to respond to the graces of courage and strength.

If you recognize even a little of yourself in the face held by Fr. McAlear’s gentle hands that evening twenty years ago, then consider that his words, given to him by the Holy Spirit, may also be for you. You may want to cut and run at times. But like St. Peter and me, you know there is nowhere to go. Jesus is our source of all peace and love. Let us continually ask Him for the graces of courage and strength to become who He created us to be, the beloved lovers the world needs right now.

Dear Lord, source of all Love, please reveal to our hearts all the barriers we have erected to Your Love. Help us to let go of them by your grace. Give us the courage and strength to be the people you created us to be. Day by day may we live more deeply as the beloved and bring that love into your world. Amen.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Jesus, Scripture, and the Catholic Church teach that water baptism is necessary for our salvation. It washes away our sins, infuses our souls with grace, and puts us in communion with God and His Church. Still, many wonder why we need water for baptism. Why can’t faith in Jesus be enough? Accordingly, this article will lay out the reasons for water baptism. Let us begin with the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Catechism on Baptism

Catechism paragraph 1213 states:

Holy Baptism is the basis of the whole Christian life, the gateway to life in the Spirit and the door which gives access to the other sacraments. Through Baptism we are freed from sin and reborn as sons of God; we become members of Christ, are incorporated into the Church and made sharers in her mission: “Baptism is the sacrament of regeneration through water in the word.”

Paragraph 1218 adds, “Since the beginning of the world, water, so humble and wonderful a creature, has been the source of life and fruitfulness.” Thus, baptismal water both represents and communicates the life and fruitfulness of grace to the one who receives it.

For more from the Catechism on baptism, please read paragraphs 1213 to 1284. Now, let us turn to Scripture.

Scripture on Baptism

In the Old Testament, we find a rather specific prophecy about a future water baptism that cleanses and gives a new heart and spirit. Ezekiel 36:24-27 states:

For I will take you from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land. I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will take out of your flesh the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances.

In the New Testament, we see Jesus’s unambiguous choice of words to describe the necessity of water baptism. In John 3, Jesus says to Nicodemus, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Then, Nicodemus asks Jesus a very specific question: “How can a man be born when he is old? Read this question carefully. The words, “when he is old,” implies the word “anew,” since one who is old was already born. So, Nicodemus is asking how one can be born anew.

Jesus replies, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” So, one is born anew (or again) when on he is reborn by both water and Spirit. Some Protestant sects insist that the word water in this passage refers to our first birth from the womb. However, the wording of both Jesus’s statements and Nicodemus’s questions prove otherwise.

Although Jesus’s words are clear enough, St. Peter gives us a detailed explanation for the necessity and effects of water baptism. In 1 Peter 3:18-21, Peter writes about Jesus going to the spirits in prison (click here for more) “who formerly did not obey, when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is eight persons, were saved through water. Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a clear conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.”

First, Peter mentions the fact that water saved Noah and his family, and then he says that baptism corresponds to this saving through water. Second, Peter clarifies that baptism is not about removing dirt from the body, a clarification that would have been completely irrelevant unless water were involved. Finally, he tells us what baptism does—it appeals to God for a clear conscience. Thus, the very act of water baptism, by the power of the Holy Spirit, is both an appeal to God for a clear conscience and saving action.

In Ephesians 5:25-27, St. Paul writes:

Husbands love your wives as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for her, that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of the water with the word, that He might present the Church to Himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.

This passage tells us that Jesus fulfilled the prophecy from Ezekiel 36 above. Those heavenly drops of water land on each member of the Church during baptism, and they cleanse everyone who enters the Church. They give us a new heart and a new spirit in Christ.

Although some Protestants point to passages that mention baptism by the Holy Spirit, none of those verses reject the use of water. Also, some will say that faith in Jesus Christ is all that we need for justification and salvation. This is true but not in the way they mean it. Rather, we must have faith in all that Jesus taught, did, and continues to do. Therefore, to deny water baptism is to deny one of Jesus’s core teachings and, therefore, Jesus Himself. As Catholics, we believe it all without excuse and without twisting of Scripture.

To read what the early Church said about the necessity of water baptism, please click here.

Reason and Baptism

We are matter-spirit composites. Jesus did not come to redeem our souls alone. He came to redeem our entire persons. So, the use of water (matter) to effect the works of the Spirit is a fitting way to cleanse the entire person from sin and save him from eternal death. In other words, Jesus cleanses both body and soul of sin with both water and Spirit. God makes both body and soul as one, and He justifies both as one. To deny the efficacy of water in baptism is to deny baptism itself, thereby leaving one in his or her sins.

Thank God we are in the Church His Son established and which the Holy Spirit guides into all truths! Thank God for this Church’s role in clarifying and transmitting the true faith of Jesus Christ! Finally, thank God for the Church’s 2000-year mission of going to all nations and baptizing disciples in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Author’s Note: Here are further resources:

• Please read this article on why baptism is not a human work.
• For an article on baptism by pouring, please click here.
• Click here for an article on infant baptism.
• Regarding the reasons for auricular confession, please click here.

Photo by Julia Michelle on Unsplash

What happens after we die?

Someone once gave examples to help formulate an answer. His help was in the form of questions:

Have you tried to describe a rainbow to a man born blind? Or a Tchaikovsky symphony like Sleeping Beauty or Swan Lake, to a person born deaf? Explain the exquisite fragrance of a French perfume to someone who was born without the sense of smell? Or the difference between Italian and Thai cuisine for a person who never had the sense of taste?

What happens after we die is something totally new. To try to explain it then is rather impossible. As St. Paul wrote the Corinthians: “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, neither has it entered into the heart of man, what things God has prepared for them that love Him” (1 Cor. 2:9).

Are you afraid of what happens when you die? If so, why are you afraid? And is it a wise thing to be afraid? The Greek philosopher Socrates said, no, it was not a wise thing:

For to fear death, gentlemen, is only to think you are wise when you are not; for it is to think you know what you don’t know. No one knows whether death is really the greatest blessing a man can have, but they fear it is the greatest curse, as if they knew well. Surely this is the objectionable kind of ignorance, to think one knows what one does not know?

Socrates was wise. But we know something that Socrates did not know—that 400 years after his death, God would lift the veil and reveal Himself. Yes, the Second Person of the Trinity, Jesus Christ, descended from heaven, taking on human flesh. After dying in the flesh, He rose and ascended to heaven, taking our human nature, our flesh with Him. And therein lies our hope.

Forty days after His resurrection, Christ stood on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives, a big hill, east of the temple. There, He gave His disciples a blessing with a hand that had a hole in it. Then He ascended. We must understand: Christ did not merely vanish or ride off on a donkey. He ascended, vertically, up into the clouds, like a rocket.  

That Christ’s hands had holes in them is very important. It shows us that if we want to go where the Brave Shepherd has gone before, we have to suffer and die with Him first. The person who understands this is no longer afraid of anything but sin. He only fears offending God. Knowing he is made in the image of God, he shares with God what can be called a “divine sense of humor.” He can see through things and get the hidden meaning.  

Bishop Sheen wrote:

To materialists, those who deny the spiritual, the world is opaque like a curtain; nothing can be seen through it. A mountain is just a mountain, a sunset is just a sunset; but to poets, artists, and saints, the world is transparent like a window pane—it tells of something beyond; for example, a mountain tells of the Power of God, the sunset of His Beauty, and the snowflake of His Purity.

“Opaque” is from the Latin meaning “shaded,” “in the dark,” “obscured.” And interesting enough, there was a huge, beautifully embroidered tapestry, a veil in the temple in Jerusalem that obscured the sanctuary, where the priests offered sacrifice. That veil was ripped in two, from top to bottom, the very moment Christ died on the cross.

Hundreds and hundreds of priests served in the temple at the time of Christ. After lambs were slaughtered and hung on hooks to be bled, priests working at long, marble tables washed and then butchered them, separating the various parts to be used as sin-offerings. The lambs were immolated (sacrificed) on a large, elevated altar, over a fire that burned 24/7. The smoke ascended up to heaven like a prayer.  

A key component then to Jewish worship in the temple was verticality. This got everyone looking up. And why not? The Psalm states:

High above all nations is the Lord,
Above the heavens His glory.
Who is like the Lord, our God,
Who has risen on high to His throne
Yet stoops from the heights to look down,
to look down upon heaven and earth?
(Psalm 113)

Along with verticality, proper orientation was another feature of Jewish, and then early Christian, worship. When Christianity was legalized around 300 years after Christ’s death and resurrection, churches were designed so that priest and people faced east, toward the orient, ad orientem. Tertullian, as early as 197 AD, spoke of Christians “praying in the direction of the rising sun.” Why? The Acts of the Apostles states that Christ will return in the same manner He departed, which for many meant He will return on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives (Acts 1:11). The rising sun then became a symbol of Christ ascending into heaven.

Something interesting to note is that the pagan Gentiles also faced the east when worshipping, due to the fact they worshipped the sun. The Jews, however, prayed in the opposite direction. They faced west when worshipping in the temple. The Holy of Holies, the highest part in the sanctuary was on the far west end of the temple building. The Jews thought it best to turn their backs on the pagans who falsely worshiped the sun.

But here’s something even more interesting: If you were to draw a line across the west end of the temple, and then another line down the middle to form a cross, and follow that line, beyond the Holy of Holies, out the back of the building, and walk straight ahead 1000 feet, you would run into a hill, a mount—called Calvary.  

Yes, the Jews at the temple prayed in the direction of Calvary! They were turned together toward the Lord, praying in front of the true altar. They prayed toward a mountain that was not just a mountain, but one that told of the power of God. They in fact prayed toward the true rising Son. That is all kind of funny if you think about it. It is what you might call a divine sense of humor coming from God.

And so, my friends, keep looking up and toward the Lord. Recall that Christ looked up toward heaven at the Last Supper, directly before He turned bread into His flesh, and wine into His blood. And He looks up toward heaven in the person of His priest directly before He consecrates bread and wine at Holy Mass. He does that to perpetuate the one perfect sacrifice for sin.  

Understand: Christ is not standing at a table in Jerusalem, fragmenting various parts of lamb. No, He is the Lamb, who hangs up high in His Mystical Body; a body with holes in hands, side, and feet. The whole world, so states Scripture, is beneath those feet. Yet He stoops from the heights to look down and feed us, for He is not only the lamb; He is the priest, who fragments His Body so we can have communion with Him.

What happens after we die? Don’t fall into the objectionable kind of ignorance of those who think they know what they do not know. Instead, be wise, and ask yourself: What happened to Christ? He rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, like a rocket. He did that to go and prepare a place for those who love Him. Do you love Him? Then fear nothing but sin. Fear nothing but offending the One who saves you. Be wise like Socrates, and even wiser, like St. Paul, who knew something Socrates did not when he told the Ephesians:

May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give you a Spirit of wisdom and revelation resulting in knowledge of Him.

Photo by Ivana Cajina on Unsplash

I recently picked up the book Joy Within His House: A Cloistered Nun’s Reflections on Following Christ by Sister Mary Magdalene of the Immaculate Conception Prewitt, OP. The book explores life within the cloister, which is a mysterious place for 99.999% of the world’s population.

Her revelations are profound and distinctly Dominican. She answers the question: How does a member of the Order of Preachers build the Kingdom of God from within the secrecy of a closed community? In other words, how does a nun who can’t physically go out and “preach,” preach?

This led me to the question posed through this article: What is keeping us—those who are not monks or nuns—from practicing monasticism?

If you’ve read my writing, you’ll know my answers: careers, families, hobbies, and screens.

But is it possible for us to emulate the life of a monastic in the chaos of the lay life?

Sister Mary Magdalene argues that it is possible.

Here’s how we do that.

Lean into Suffering

I was in the laundry doing the washing in front of a Sister who was throwing dirty water into my face every time she lifted the handkerchiefs to her bench; my first reaction was to draw back and wipe my face to show the Sister who was sprinkling me that she would do me a favor to be more careful. But I immediately thought I would be very foolish to refuse these treasures which were being given to me so generously, and I took care not to show my struggle. I put forth all my efforts to desire receiving very much this dirty water, and was so successful that in the end I had really taken a liking to this kind of aspersion, and I promised myself to return another time to this nice place where one receives so many treasures.

The saints sought suffering. When writing about St. Francis of Assisi, G.K. Chesterton wrote, “[Sacrifice] was as positive as a passion; it had all the air of being as positive as a pleasure. He devoured fasting as a man devours food. He plunged after poverty as men have dug madly for gold.” I know it seems counterintuitive to place suffering as the first place to find contemplation. After all, shouldn’t our first moments of waking up be dedicated to God? Of course, but we first need to wake up, and waking up in today’s world is a difficult thing to do.

There is no shortage of crosses in our day-to-day. Instead of avoiding them, a true contemplative leans into them as the means by which their abstinence, penance, and sacrifice becomes Christ crucified again. If you can’t find Jesus in the difficulties of life, you will surely miss Him when all is well.

Become Community

Only by naturally and honestly rubbing up against one another can we become more polished in holiness…For anyone who loves something else along with you, but does not love it for your sake, loves you less.

Sister Mary Magdalene is referring to Christ in the aforementioned quote. She could refer to anything, however, because regardless of what (or who) we love, if we don’t have others in mind when we contemplate that love, we are using that thing we love for its utility alone. I might love my car, but if I refuse to give a ride to my loved ones, my love is misplaced. In the same way, I might love Jesus and His Catholic Church, but if I don’t love it for the sake of saving souls, Jesus becomes an invisible friend and the Church a mere social club.

Community is the mirror that reflects our contemplation. What we see in that mirror is the effect of our prayerful intent. Who we become, then, is based first on why we contemplate. To be “other-centered” is to love one’s neighbor as yourself. And in doing so, you “seek first the Kingdom of God and everything else [is] given to you as well” (Mt. 6:33).

Release Your Power into the World

The story of Martha and Mary teaches us a valuable lesson. There are people who place their spiritual value in acts of service and others who find it in contemplation. The lesson learned, however, is that Martha and Mary worked together. This isn’t an either/or situation—it is a both/and.

That being said, Jesus did tell us that one was better than the other—to contemplate is greater than to act. In fact, the power of contemplation is what the saints participate in eternally. In that state, they intercede for us without any willful action of their own. On the contrary, their contemplation in the beatific vision is enough to release powerful influxes of spiritual power into the world.

This same contemplative participation is what the cloisters commit their lives to. As an effect, their monasteries become the equivalent of nuclear power plants of spiritual energy. “The fate of humanity is decided by the prayerful hearts and uplifted hands of contemplative women.”

This shouldn’t be a surprise. Look to the first Christian communities. Jesus told His apostles to “Go and make disciples of every nation” (Mt. 28:19), but what did the women do while the men went out? They stayed. They prayed. They fueled the spiritual and economic stability that was needed for the men of God to spread the Gospel. Without the women, the early Church would have been too weak to sustain itself spiritually.

We are able to participate in this same contemplative power. All it takes is a shift in intent and mindset. As Sr. Mary Magdalene writes, “the smallest degree of sanctifying grace in one individual is greater than the natural good of the entire universe,” which means that our tiny sacrifices and our reception of contemplative gifts from God can do a great deal more than our acts of service. At the same time, they become a burning furnace of zeal that moves us to do good works simply for the fact that they build up the Church. The monk and the missionary, then, are one and the same. And while there must be a great deal of monk in the missionary, there is no such thing as a missionary without a monk.

The contemplatives drive the whole of evangelization.

For years, I thought that being a missionary disciple means that we had to do something at all times. I questioned why there weren’t more missionaries, more books written, more apostolates, more podcasts, more evangelists. More. More. MORE!

Fast forward to the present day, and now there are so many apostolates online and in real life that a simple Google search for “Catholic [add your area of interest here]” will pull up hundreds of influencers, resources, and places where Christ’s Church has taken root.

The funny thing is, I’m not so sure that the people who are “doing” are truly the main characters in the spreading of the Gospel.

I think it’s the cloistered nuns…

…and the lay monkery that you and I practice, dear reader.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

St. Peter wrote to a Christian community that was being persecuted for their faith in Christ:

Beloved: Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence, keeping your conscience clear, so that when you are maligned, those who defame your good conduct in Christ may themselves be put to shame.

The right antidote to their unjust persecution and suffering was an unfailing hope that comes from a good and clear conscience. The Christian’s hope begins to waver once conscience is not good and upright. Such a good and clear conscience is one formed on the truth of God’s words. The actions from such a conscience are prompted by the grace of God and attest that Jesus Christ is indeed the Lord of our thoughts, words, and actions. Such a conscience will make Christians victorious in all their trials and put their enemies to shame.  

There is spiritual power that comes from this good and clear conscience rooted in “good conduct in Christ.” It empowers the Christian to do good and endure evil out of love for Christ the Lord, “For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that be the will of God, than for doing evil. For Christ also suffered for sins once, the righteous for the sake of the unrighteous, that He might lead you to God” (1 Pet. 3:15-18).

Without a good and upright conscience, we just cannot be constant in doing the good that we should do when we face the many challenges and evils of our time. In the words of the Catechism, “A good and pure conscience is enlightened by true faith, for charity proceeds at the same time from a pure heart and a good conscience and sincere faith” (CCC 1794).

This is why Jesus does not ask us to just love anyhow according to our whims, selfish needs, or emotions. Jesus demands from us a love for Him and for others that is always in obedience to the truth of His commandments, stating, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments…Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me.”

When we show our love for Jesus by keeping His commandments, we have a clear conscience through the sanctifying action of the Holy Spirit that Jesus promised us; “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows Him” (Jn. 14:15-21). Jesus offers us His own Spirit so that we can love Him and others in truth and enjoy the unfailing hope that comes from a good and clear conscience. 

My brethren, whenever we find ourselves losing hope for any reason, we first must examine our conscience on the quality of love that we have for God and for others. Are we truly loving God and others as inspired by the Spirit of truth or are we settling for a worldly type of love? We cannot follow the promptings of the Spirit and the world at the same time.

Are we settling for a worldly way of loving, one that is focused on self and our selfish desires and needs while ignoring the truth of God’s commandments? Such a worldly love, more appropriately called lust, no matter what we may think or believe about it, corrupts our consciences and destroys our hope. The Catechism again reminds us that sin is incompatible with truth, good conscience, and hope, explaining, “Sin is an offense against reason, truth, and right conscience; it is failure in genuine love for God and neighbor caused by a perverse attachment to certain goods” (CCC 1849).

When we follow the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in our love for God and others, we have a clear and good conscience because the Spirit will “convict us in regard to sin and righteousness and condemnation” (Jn. 16:8). We cannot face our sins, strive for righteousness through faith in Jesus Christ, and avoid the condemnation due to the devil without the grace of the Holy Spirit.

Such a clear conscience from the Spirit also leads to an enduring hope because He is the “advocate who will be with us always.” We will always have a sense of God’s loving presence with us as Jesus promised, “I will never leave you orphans.” He will teach us truth about God’s love for us, our identity as God’s beloved children, and the path that we are to follow to perfect life with God in heaven.

This teaching on the need for good and upright conscience seems lost to some members of the Catholic Church’s hierarchy who seem hell-bent on imposing the homosexual lifestyle on the Catholic Church. The final report of a study group on the synod on synodality titled, “Theological Criteria and Synodal Methodologies for Shared Discernment of Emerging Doctrinal, Pastoral, and Ethical Issues,” has this shocking and blasphemous quote from a man who made the illusory claim to be married to another man: “My sexuality isn’t a perversion, disorder, or cross; it’s a gift from God. I have a happy, healthy marriage and am flourishing as an openly gay Catholic.”

The blasphemous and scandalous report goes on to claim that, based on “the lived experience of faith of the People of God,” the Church must be open to abandon her teaching on the disordered nature of the homosexual inclination and the intrinsic immorality of homosexual acts. The document also stigmatizes the Church’s moral teachings on homosexual acts as giving into “the temptation of sterile and regressive ossification of principles and statements, of norms and rules, regardless of the experience of individuals and communities.”

This report is both troubling and shameful for all persons of good will for many reasons.

Firstly, when in the world did the “lived experience” of sinful humanity in a fallen world become a source of theology and pastoral practice in the Church? Is it not the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of love and truth, that is given to us to “guide us into all truth” (Jn. 16:13)? Our lived experiences do not and cannot tell us anything about God and His ways of guiding us to full communion with Him. On the contrary, it is divine revelation that helps us to make sense of our lived experiences. To appeal to our lived experience only to justify our depraved lifestyle is both devious and devilish.

In addition, a person can only claim to be happy and fulfilled in a life of grave sin because the person’s conscience is completely dead through “habits of committing sin” (CCC 1791). There is a great need for the Holy Spirit to bring life back into the person’s conscience and convict the person of the reality of sin and its damaging consequences. 

Secondly, Jesus warns us that the world cannot accept, see, or know the Spirit, but we have the Spirit within us: “But you know Him, because He remains with you, and will be in you” (Jn. 14:17). We have the power of God’s invisible Spirit within us, and He empowers us to live holy lives in this world and to be beacons of hope to a world enslaved to sexual immorality.

Instead of striving to bring hope to many trapped in the wicked bondage of depraved sexual immorality, some members of the hierarchy are telling us to be open to find beauty and goodness in gravely evil deeds that the Church has declared intrinsically evil. If we follow their wicked advice, we too will betray our brethren who have embraced this lifestyle and are living with dark and wounded consciences. We leave them hopeless and confused.

Thirdly, what about the lived experience of depression and suicide in the homosexual lifestyle? This an uncomfortable truth that the homosexual activists inside and outside the Church never speak about. The crooked report did not mention the many cases of lives lost through living in the homosexual lifestyle and the lack of meaning in such lifestyle. They ignore the grave hopelessness that comes from living with a bad conscience that rejects God’s unchanging truths.

Lastly, what about the lived experience of those who choose to live chaste and holy lives even in the face of strong homosexual inclinations? These are people who, under the impulse of the Spirit, chose to have a good and clean conscience by the grace of God. They place all their trust in Jesus and the power of His Spirit, make frequent recourse to the sacrament of Reconciliation, pray fervently, learn to love purely, examine their conscience properly, learn from their past failures, and practice self-mastery. They don’t buy into the lie to indulge, celebrate, and impose a homosexual lifestyle on others. They never lose their hope because they choose to live a life of “good conduct in Christ” (1 Pet. 3:16). I guess the Church report does not have any space to mention these true Christian heroes, but they will choose to publish skewed accounts of men who have chosen to live estranged from Christ and His commandments.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, we have a choice to make when it comes to how we choose to love. Jesus pours His Spirit into our hearts in each Eucharist because He wants us to live in truth and fidelity to His commandments and thus have a good conscience and a strong and lively hope. By the power of the Spirit, we can also reject the many sinful ways of loving in our world that only destroy our conscience and hope.

The world, which is “under the power of the evil one” (1 Jn. 5:19), will offer us many deadly alternative ways that contradict the laws of God, wound our consciences, and destroy our hope. There are even wolves in sheep’s clothing within the Church herself. If we choose to follow the prompting of God’s Spirit of truth always by the grace of God, though we may not have things easy in this life or be accepted by our corrupt world, we will surely have a good and clear conscience, and there is no way that we can ever lose our hope.

Glory to Jesus!!! Honor to Mary!!!

Photo by Rohan Makhecha on Unsplash