Why can't non-Catholics receive Holy Communion?

Happiest second day of Christmas to you and yours. Ours was salvaged by an 11th hour recovery from the flu of death and a sprinkling of magical, legitimate Christmas snow.

We spent Christmas Eve with my side of the family, as we often do, attending 4:30 Mass in my hometown. And by attending Mass I mean perching in the window sill of an overflowing school gymnasium balancing still-ill babies on hips and shushing angry toddlers in increasingly uncharitable stage whispers amidst the dulcet tones of the pitchy children's choir. (All honesty though, lead female soloist KILLED it on the Ave Maria. Solid gold.)

I wonder if anyone has had a similar experience attending Mass at Christmas time or Easter, when the (not)church/auditorium/parish hall is stuffed to the gills with worshipers in varying arrays of holiday finery, kneeling or not kneeling at all the wrong moments and just bringing a general sense of chaotic merriment and outside-the-normness to the moment, marking this day as something altogether different from any given Sunday?

When I was younger and even more selfish than I am now, I resented the crowded pews and the, um, let's go with "eclectic" dress code. I was a brat, and I wanted a seat, darn it, and don't I deserve a seat for coming every single Sunday and not just twice a year?

(Prodigal son's older brother, anyone?)

Now that old age, motherhood, and sleep deprivation have mellowed me somewhat, and probably due to an enriched understanding of the meaning and nature of evangelization, I actually really look forward to the C & E crowd. I love the overstuffed church, the chaotic parking lot (okay that part might be a stretch) and the haphazard feel to a liturgy filled with participants who may not quite be all the way there, so to speak.

"The pilgrim Church is missionary by her very nature" (Ad Gentes, Vatican II)

There's never more of a missionary feel to my parish church than during our major holy days, when the doors are flung wide and everyone from agnostic Uncle Tom to gay Cousin Jeff gather with family to attend and to worship (or to stare in confusion/wonder/boredom) as a family, as a body of Christ.

Yes, it's inconvenient. Christianity is inconvenient through, and I make the too-frequent mistake of forgetting that I exist for it and not it for me.

The Church does not owe me anything. Jesus didn't die for my sins in order that I may vaguely acknowledge Him in some kind of moral therapeutic deistic fashion. So what if I have to stand in a drafty gym for 90 minutes on Christmas Eve, so that the visitors who have swollen our attendance by 400% can have a seat for their biannual pilgrimage -- isn't it worth it?

Because what if somebody does come back because of Christmas? What if this year is "the year" that something clicks in their heart and head and the blinding light from the manger cracks open a channel  of grace into their soul and...oh, holy night.

Wouldn't that be something?

And then, oh what joy, if that revert or convert-to-be were to formally approach the Church via RCIA and ask to be received into full communion, to become one with the Bride of Christ and to be welcomed into the mystery of the Sacraments.

That's what it's all about.

I'm wandering far from my title here, but that backstory is important because it lays a foundation for understanding the difficult beauty of the Catholic Church's teaching on the Eucharist.

It is He.

When we approach the altar to receive Communion, we truly believe we are receiving the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. We don't celebrate a symbol, but a Sacrament.

We don't merely recreate a reenactment from a story in the Bible, rather, we are ushered in a mysterious, time-bending way into the one, eternal sacrifice He made of Himself.

And because He is truly there, dwelling among us, present in the Eucharist, humble and unexpected (kind of like a peasant child lying in an animal's feeding trough), we only dare to receive Communion if we are properly disposed to do so, which looks like this:

1. Am I a practicing, baptized Catholic,

2. In a state of grace (i.e. recently confessed, no mortal sins on my soul)

3. living in accordance with the Church's teachings (i.e. I believe in and consent to her dogmas?)

If the answer to those conditions is affirmative, than one may worthily receive the Eucharist.

Or at least, as close to worthily as any of us poor sinners may hope to be.

This is emphatically not a condemnation of anyone who doesn't meet the conditions. On the contrary, the teaching of worthy reception of Communion is a great mercy intended to save a person from committing the grave offense of receiving unworthily.

St. Paul warns us "whoever shall eat this bread or drink the chalice of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the Body and Blood of the Lord."

There's also the small matter of Communion being an act of, well, communion among members of the body of Christ. 

And just like you (hopefully) wouldn't throw back the covers and invite just anyone into your marriage bed, the Church joyfully opens the doors to her sanctuary for any and all who wish to enter, but reserves the ultimate expression of intimacy, Communion, for practicing Catholics, aka fellow members of the body of Christ.

So that awkward paragraph on the back page of the missal? That imperfectly phrased blurb in the bulletin that made Grandma squirm? That moment when you try not to fall into your cousin's lap while extricating yourself from the crowded pew to join the communion line? All evidence that there's work to do yet, and that we all share in the call for a new evangelization.

The beauty of the Gospel is that it is for everybody. 

The Church is for everybody. And even if you can't yet receive the Eucharist, please know how very welcome you are, and that we're looking forward to the day when you are able to.

(And if you could maybe find it in your hearts, could you please forgive my children for that noise they made during the entire homily. You know the one, that sustained whine in f minor, punctuated by increasingly threatening motherly whispers? I promise, it's not like this every Sunday.) 

;)

Catholics Do What? (31 Days to Understanding the Catholic Church's Teachings on Sex and Marriage)

I've been toying with the idea of joining the Nester for her annual 31 day writing challenge and now that October 1 has arrived, I can think of at least 23 reasons why committing to a project of this magnitude is a horrible idea, but I keep circling back to the notion of 'resistance,' which I believe Jen Fulwiler first introduced me to, and I can't help but think the fact that my mother's helper is awol for half the month, both my sons fell (separately) down the basement stairs today and Evie has the diaper rash/ear infection/teething trifecta to end all baby ailments simultaneously might just be a little bit of satanic static trying to slow my roll.

So I'm saying yes. This is my gift to the Church for the occasion of the extraordinary synod on the family, convening in Rome one week from today and lasting for 14 remarkable days, where the bishops of the universal Church will discuss "The pastoral challenges of the family in the context of evangelization." They'll be covering everything from divorce and remarriage to annulments to reproductive technologies and infertility to homosexuality. And of course, everybody's favorite Catholic stepchild, contraception. 

Each day of October I'll be writing on a different topic within that larger theme, with the hope that someone out there needs to hear the clear, concise truth of what the Church teaches about: (insert stumbling block here.)

So stay tuned, you're going to be hearing from me a lot this month. And pray for my poor kids, because I'm not even joking, somebody fell backwards off the couch while I was typing these 4 paragraphs. So many toddler heads to bang on so many hard surfaces...

Day 1 

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4 

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 13

Day 14

Day 15

Day 16

Day 17

Day 18

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Day 22

Day 23

Day 24

Day 25

Day 26

Day 27

This is my mission field

I laughed when I clicked open a reader's email this morning (can you believe I still have readers after my last few posts? Me neither.) to the subject line "just what the world needs, another mommy blogger."

She's right, I laughed to myself. And then I thought a little longer about it and actually, you know what? That's exactly what the world does need.

I work in the news, which means I wade daily through the endless cycle of blood, suffering, horror and abuse that qualifies as attention-grabing. I read all the headlines, and I take note of all the trends cycling out there. I don't have to tell you that it's grim; 5 minutes of channel surfing will make that clear to anyone.

Here's the thing though, despite the tired old adage about how if it bleeds, it leads and the sad reality that horror is endlessly fascinating in a broken world: we need good things to put into our bodies. We need good food, clean water, and, just as desperately but perhaps less apparently, we need good news.

Ultimately, we need the Good News, but we need little 'g' good, too. We need to read stories about how moms are holding their children tight at night and simultaneously cursing the nap-striking phase while marveling at the soft, sweet baby skin still covering their big strong toddler's body.

We need that shot in the arm that reading about another woman's experience with childbirth/schooling/potty training/depression/marriage/illness can give. In our virtual village here on the web we can give - and receive - the kind of support many of us don't have in our physical villages.

Beyond that though, the world needs to see the truth, goodness and beauty of motherhood and family life. And while I'm under no impression that the world reads my blog, nor that I particularly exemplify those big three most days, I do feel a certain civic responsibility to put it out there. (I mean yes, I guess I must also be an attention-seeking over-sharer, but that just makes this particular medium a natural fit for me.)

Maybe your medium is creating meals for friends with new babies or challenging illnesses in their families. Maybe you create beauty by throwing fabulous parties in your warm, artistically and lovingly decorated home (I'm looking at you, Meg). Maybe you are an amazing conversationalist who doesn't mind chewing the fat with the lady behind you in line at Target, or, (horrors) maybe you actually seek out strangers with whom to converse pleasantly.

Here is my point (what a relief); we all have something beautiful, life-giving and necessary to contribute to the world. It might seem little or insignificant to you, or even redundant. But beauty is redundant. It's the breathtaking over-and-over again of the sunset that keeps us looking up each night, marveling over the colors and the clouds. And let's be honest, pretty much all newborns arrive sporting the same red 'n wrinkled look, and yet a glimpse of the innocence in their squinty eyes and the tiny, mewling cries coming out of their mouths before the epidural fully wears off are enough to bring a grown man to tears.

So what I'm saying is, if you feel like you have something to say, you'd better speak up, because this world could surely use another voice proclaiming something Good. God knows there's plenty of bad news coming from every direction. And there's no such thing as too much beauty.

His Laughter, Our Plans

When I was 24 years old, I was a wreck.

I mean a serious wreck. Working as a cocktail waitress, fresh from an extremely unhealthy relationship, and oh, by the way Mom and Dad, no longer enrolled in college so I could take some time to 'find myself.' What that looked like on a practical level was lots and lots of partying and nights of memoryless alcohol-fueled recreation that left my spirit (and my bank account) very, very empty.

I thought I was being prudent by discontinuing my already expensive education at this point, since I had no idea what I wanted to 'be' when I grew up. In practice, all I was actually doing was prolonging my own eternal adolescence. And earning beer money.

The Spring semester of my senior year rolled around and I found myself in a kind of limbo. A heated exchange with my younger sister over Christmas break had resulted in my defiant acceptance of a 30-day challenge to refrain from drinking, and as the days of that long month slipped away, so did all of my so-called friends, one by one, until I finally found myself alone one Tuesday night, quite without any social opportunities of any sort.

Now, there is only so much time one can spend alone on an elliptical machine, especially when one is not in game day shape. So eventually, I had to broaden my non-partying horizons. Enter an embarrassingly titled little website that may or may not still exist (okay it does, I just checked) called Catholicity, which was patronized almost exclusively by little old ladies and parish priests, I believe. And my mom. And me, one boring Tuesday evening, when I impulsively clicked 'purchase' on a cassette tape (I swear this was only in 2005) copy of "A Protestant Minister Converts" for the reasonable price of $2.99 for shipping and handling.

I had all but forgotten about my impulsive foray into scary church lady land until about a week later, when a manilla envelope arrived on the doorstep of my cute Boulder party house. Having yet another open night on the 'ol calendar, I waited until my roommates had finished pre-gaming and had departed for Pearl Street before sequestering myself in my attic room with somebody's ghetto blaster and pushing 'play.'

My world was rocked.

I've mentioned before on the blog that John Paul II was instrumental in my reversion to Catholicism. There was another guy who played a pretty big part in the story too, and that night as I listened to his story for the first time, I had no way of knowing how very different my life was about to become.

After the tape clicked to the end, I reached down and hit 'rewind' and immediately listened again. By this time my roommates were back from the bars and were jokingly and drunkenly pounding on my door, begging me to come out and join the after party. I wouldn't. I listened to that stupid cassette tape 3 times in one night, and the following weekend during a visit home, I snuck a copy of "Rome Sweet Home" off my parent's shelf and read it cover to cover in a single evening.

If JPII was the patron saint of my conversion, than Dr. Scott Hahn was my personal trainer. Less than a year after I'd heard his story for the first time coming through my roommate's boom box speakers, I would be sitting in class listening to him teach in a crappy little town called Steubenville, Ohio.

Fast forward another year and I'd end up working for his apostolate, the St. Paul Center for Biblical Theology, where I eventually managed the office staff and had my very first taste of getting paid to write things. He was my favorite professor, and he become my favorite boss. At the goodbye party the SPC staff threw for me,  I finally told him the dumb story about the cassette tape, and his eyes moistened as he enfolded me in a fatherly hug.

Last night I slipped out of the house after the boys went down for the night and drove to a parish not too far from our new house. I sat with a thousand or so other adoring fans and listened to him speak about his latest book, 'Consuming the Word,' and on the New Evangelization and our role as laypersons and families. It was completely awesome.

I slipped in to say a quick hello as he was taking off his mic and was rewarded with a guffaw and a bear hug. "You're pregnant, what a joy!" and then "I saw the picture of your son getting kissed by the Holy Father, I had tears in my eyes."

Me too Dr. Hahn, me too.

Chalking another happy day in Denver up to Divine Providence and God's good, good plan for us. For each of us.

Something he said last night stuck with me, and it was this: "Family life will save the culture." I truly believe that, and I thank God for my own little slice of Heaven here at home with Dave and our boys, and for my larger, worldwide family, the Catholic Church.

7 Quick Takes on the Decline of Western Civilization

Hell of a week, y'all. Can't say I've been particularly proud to be an American while reading/covering the news from home this week. Are you sick of seeing this on Facebook/Twitter/blogs yet? Well me too. But the truth must be revealed, even (and perhaps especially) when it's ugly. Because the only way to defeat evil, ultimately, is to expose it to the Light.

Is the news morbid, depressing, and defeating at times? Hell yes it is. But you know what? You might assume that everyone is already aware of this or that depressing/horrifying/shocking/infuriating situation, but you'd be wrong. The reason things like Kermit Gosnell murdering hundreds of breathing, born human babies and getting paid for it in a licensed 'medical' facility continue to happen is because people aren't aware, or if they are, their consciences aren't sufficiently formed to feel horror at the scope of evil we're dealing with.

And that's where we come in. To bring the message of the Gospel, yes. But also to denounce the anti-Gospel. To stand up in a crowded room and identify something evil as exactly that: evil.

Does that word make you uncomfortable? It should. It is the antithesis of what it means to be fully human, an impoverishment of our God-given nature. And it's real. And it's destroying souls and families and nations today, just as it has for a thousand generations beforehand. But lately, it seems, we've become deaf and dumb to its existence. And suddenly every kind of depravity and attack on the dignity of the human person is re-branded and repackaged as a 'lifestyle choice', a 'deeply personal decision,' or the laudable evidence of 'diversity.'

Lies. Calling something evil 'good' does not alter reality. And committing murder of human beings using surgical instruments doesn't make it medicine.

So hold on to your butts, readers, because we're going to pull back the curtain and look evil in the eye. And we're going to spit in its face and expose it for the rest of the world to see.

1. The Gosnell Trial. Horrifying, mind-numbing, and completely over-saturated by media coverage, at least on my newsfeed. But I inhibit a particular little corner of the internet where I see a lot of coverage of all things bioethics-related. So I trust that there are still plenty of people out there who don't know about the man who systematically murdered hundreds of unborn and born children at his filthy 'medical' facility over a period of decades, employing the assistance of unskilled and untrained staff members and disposing of the bodies (or keeping revolting trophies, as some serial killers are wont to do) in the most inhumane and gruesome manner. Vom now or vom later, the choice is yours.

2. Live Action President Lila Rose's latest undercover video investigations, '#Inhuman'. She is a boss. She is in her early 20's. And she is braver and more intimidating and effective than any single politician or investigative reporter on the planet. Live Action has dropped 3 shocking videos this week. None of them are shocking for what you'll see. There are no gruesome pictures. All of them, however,  are shocking for what you'll hear:

3. The first details the willingness of late-term abortion facilities to murder accidentally-born babies should the procedure fail,

4. The second provides evidence that abortion 'doctors' routinely break federal law in order to deny medical aid or resuscitation to failed abortion victims,

5. The third includes a step-by-step description of how a baby is dismembered inside the uterus (or sometimes outside, after birth) and how the remains are sent out to funeral homes (even though they're not human?) It also has some chilling footage from a Senate hearing in Florida of Planned Parenthood's view of the human person, and of their own perception of their role in the abortion business.

6. Fox News' correspondent on the O'Reilly factor didn't seem to share my opinion of her. Though she didn't seem able to form a coherent sentence, either. And had some weird facial tics going on, so I don't know, maybe she was on something.

7. The FDA's (and the President of the United States) endorsement of statutory rape. The Morning After abortion pill is now available OTC to children as young as 15. Who are, according to federal law and common decency, protected from sexual exploitation by statutory rape laws in every state in our nation. But just in case you get one of them pregnant, no worries, you can easily send her down to Walmart or CVS for a powerful dose of the dangerous and potent drug Levonorgestrel and bam, problem solved. 

I find it deeply ironic and more than a little disturbing that the President is himself father to two teenage daughters. But remember, this is the same man who doesn't want them 'punished with a baby.' Best make the Morning After pill available to teens then, to make certain the cycle of destructive behavior and precocious sexuality our young people are enslaved to continues to spiral out of control. Hell, why not officially endorse it?  

So there you have it. Depressing, disgusting, and oh-so-necessary to share until there is no filthy, darkened corner for this madness to hide in. Mother Teresa, who surely saw more filth and depravity in a day than the average human being could stomach in a lifetime, tells us we must 'be the change we wish to see in the world.' And so we must.


If you're still reading, good on you, solider. Head over the Jen's to have some peace restored.

Why Contraception Doesn't Prevent Abortions

Hear me out.

Possibly thanks to Obamacare and probably thanks to willful ignorance and most likely due to Planned Parenthood's eternal campaign of misleading statistics and empty promises, there's a funny little 'notion going round the world today that contraception helps to prevent - or to somehow reduce the number of - abortions.  And as even some of the most battle hardened, vaginally-preoccupied womyn's rights crusaders will agree: that's a good thing.

Fewer abortions good, less birth control bad. Because one is dependent upon the other, right?

Wrong.

Abortion and birth control are two sides of the same coin. The currency of which is the prevention and/or the destruction of nascent human life. While some forms of contraception, such as the condom or the diaphragm, are not themselves capable of destroying human life, (as are many chemical contraceptives, including forms of the Pill, the patch, and IUDs) they are a kind of 'gateway drug' into the abortion mentality.

For a woman - or a couple - who are seeking to avoid pregnancy by means of contraception, they have already set themselves up as being 'against the beginning' of life. (From the Latin: contra: against, ception: beginning) As such, when the 'unthinkable' occurs, be it breakthrough ovulation, or a broken condom, the new parents panic. They weren't planning on getting pregnant; they were planning on having sterile, questionably unitive sex divorced from procreative sex. When their attempts to thwart nature and the moral law fail, they seek the next logical solution: abortion.

I'm not saying that any couple using contraception would be open to considering abortion, should their birth control method fail them. What I am saying is that the very act of using 'birth control' (an oxymoron if ever there was one) pits prospective parents against prospective offspring.

In other words: they have made their children their enemies.

This is the fundamental reasoning behind the Jewish theological understanding of abortion as an act of justifiable violence against the fetus as 'intruder' in a woman's body. Without denying the humanity - or at least the nascent humanity - of the unborn, the Torah makes exception for abortion when the mother's life is 'threatened' by her unborn child or the pregnancy sustaining that child.

But I digress. The issue here is the ridiculous claim that widely available contraception, whether 'free*' or low cost, is a fantastic safeguard against abortion.

"Look," the argument goes, "People are going to have sex - lots of it. They need to have access to substances or contraptions which prevent pregnancies from resulting from all that sex. Otherwise, the world will be overrun with unwanted adult fetuses. Can you imagine?!"

Contraception, in other words, is a solution to the problem of people. Too many, too closely-spaced in age, too much medical baggage, wrong chromosomal or genetic makeup...you name it.

The thing is, abortion is also a solution to the problem of people. It's just a solution which acts a bit further down the line, in most cases.

I can hear the enraged sputtering from here, so before anyone self-induces carpal tunnel with a frenzied comment session, let me be clear: I do not believe most people who contracept would choose to intentionally abort their child. At least not in the stereotypical, 'visibly-pregnant and hurrying furtively into a dirty corner 'clinic' with a pocket full of twenties' way.

What I do believe, however, is that people who choose to contracept are damaging their consciences and hardening their hearts in a very real way, whether or not they acknowledge or comprehend the sinful nature of their actions.

Sin, you see, has consequences. Whether or not we acknowledge our actions as sinful...heck, whether or not we even believe in sin, reality stands. And the reality is, contraception and abortion are about as intrinsically linked as are sugar and cavities. One doesn't always cause the other, but it sure as heck predisposes the midnight snacker to more frequent trips to the dentist's chair.

So please, when you hear politicians - or your Pilates classmates - tossing around the 'birth control prevents abortion' stat, set the record straight: birth control does not prevent abortion.

Self-control prevents abortion.

A properly formed conscience informing the owner of the wrongness of murder prevents abortion.

Abstinence prevents abortion.

Education prevents abortion.

But a little pink pill? I don't think so.

There's a reason, after all, that Planned Parenthood is fighting so hard to keep Obamacare and its promises of subsidized hormones alive.

Their bottom line depends upon it.

*There's no such thing as a free lunch, people. And you'd better believe those costs will be passed onto the taxpayer...aka you. And me.

What Love Looks Like...

It's shaped like a cross. But it's so very sweet.

Chiara Corbella, pray for us. Especially when the days (and nights) of motherhood are challenging.

Couldn't Have Said it Better Myself

My dear readers, and particularly those of an anti-Catholic ilk, please enlighten yourself by means of the following piece from an unlikely source. 

October? Really?

In honor of respect life month, I've elected to go 40 days without blogging in solidarity for those whose voices are never to be heard.

Okay, actually, while the above is a noble thought, I'm actually just too busy to write!

But here's a rundown of the latest:

Please pray for two talks this month, one at the University of Denver and one at the Colorado School of Mines. The topic for both evenings is "Green Sex" and this will be my first attempt of such in front of a secular audience, so pray for open hearts, open minds, and a smooth and un-flustered delivery from yours truly. I'm really praying that I don't get in the way of this message!

also... I'm getting married in 39 days! Please pray for Dave and me during these last few weeks of engagement, and for the 10,000 little details that could distract us but don't necessarily matter....

I'll write soon, peace to you all!

Suck it, Dave Matthews

I could have put that more delicately, but...

Check out the awesomeness that is emanating from Charlottesville, VA