Katrina Reflections: The Rule of Lawlessness

Passion of Saint John the Baptist I wrote this hard-hitting piece a year after Hurricane Katrina.  With violence running rampant in our culture, and in light of the horrific Planned Parenthood scandal, I feel compelled to share it with you now.  I believe it is more pertinent than ever and I've added a few final thoughts for reflection.  May God bless and restore our nation, and may St. John the Baptist, whose beheading we remember today as he confronted the moral evil before him, pray for us.

Photo Credit: Joe Clader https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Patrolling_an_area_that_was_previously_underwater_in_New_Orleans_September_2005.jpg

Growing up in New Orleans, we never locked our doors. We seldom even closed our windows, as we lived in the swampy heat of New Orleans without the convenience of air-conditioning. We were free to roam the streets day or night without fear of crime or bodily harm, and we spent hot summer nights playing “kick the can” with a whole city block as our playground. I now live in a subdivision behind a guard gate in the suburbs to simulate this same sense of safety.

St. Thomas Aquinas taught that our actions form us into the kind of people we become. Additionally, our actions speak volumes about the kind of people that we are. We convey this belief with the old adage: “actions speak louder than words.” Needless to say, actions spoke at deafening volumes in the days following Hurricane Katrina.

I sat in a hotel room in Memphis, Tennessee with my now late husband, Bernie, and our five children watching in shock as lawlessness broke out on the streets of New Orleans. People looted businesses, burned shopping malls and began to destroy what was left of the city. My family and I sat in stunned silence as we heard stories of rape, murder and theft, and as we watched our fellow New Orleanians help themselves not only to the supplies they needed to sustain life, but to large screen TVs, stereos, fancy shoes and fine clothing.

We listened to endless hours of analysis on television, as reporters tried to assimilate what had happened. The bottom line, they concluded, was that the crisis had brought out the worst in human nature, and that the government was to blame for not showing up sooner.   What we never heard, however, was the conclusion that these acts accurately reflected the belief systems of our current culture. I, for one, believe that there was a deeper truth conveyed by these actions, and I suggested as much to several people in the weeks following Katrina, when I proposed that the mayhem in our beloved city spoke volumes about the kind of people we have become.

A central part of the Catholic faith is our belief in “incarnational reality,” which holds that the physical realm is a visible, tangible sign of a deeper, invisible reality. This belief is rooted and grounded in our faith in the Incarnation of Christ—that pivotal moment in history when the “Word of God” became flesh. There are incarnational symbols aplenty in the Catholic faith, including the Church and her seven sacraments. These are visible, sensible signs instituted by Christ to communicate grace to His people. But “enfleshed” signs and symbols are not unique to the Catholic faith, as there are incarnational signs all around us that point us to deeper truths.

I consider the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to be such a sign, and I believe that we would do well to read what it is saying to us. “The rule of law,” says the sign “has become the rule of lawlessness. You have lost the proper understanding of freedom, and it shows in the way you behave.”

Half a century ago, we had a hurricane, too. Her name was Betsey and she left the city of New Orleans flooded and without electricity, food or water for over a week. We shared our supplies with our neighbors and we helped each other clean up. We never dreamed that our fellow citizens would try to take our things, or that people would wreak havoc in the city by looting businesses or destroying property. The National Guard was not needed, because the Internal Guard still governed us. The Internal Guard was our conscience, and it was formed in a specific understanding of freedom. To be free meant that we enjoyed personal and political liberty, and that we had the responsibility of exercising these freedoms within the boundaries of self-restraint. A person who was truly free could exercise command of himself, and this self-possession was visibly and tangibly manifested in a citizen who followed both the laws of God and man with ease.

Our current understanding of freedom is that we can do whatever we wish. We have thrown off the shackles of self-control and self-discipline for the “freedom” of self-indulgence. We have confused liberty with absolute license, and the streets of New Orleans in September 2005 bore visible witness to this truth. This version of freedom says: “I will do what I want, so long as the law does not stop me!” The concept of freedom that laid the foundation for American democracy spoke another language entirely. It echoed the words of “self-control” and “liberty in law.”

It struck me this week as I watched the eighth Planned Parenthood video and also remembered the violent outbreak in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina (and in too many other cities to name since then) that the rampant violence in our culture is an incarnational sign of freedom gone mad. We have rejected the concept of objective truth, and consequently we believe in nothing. And we have distorted the concept of freedom until it is almost unrecognizable. A culture that believes in nothing, with no limits on its behavior, becomes a culture that will resort to violence and death when life becomes challenging. We are seeing that reality incarnated in spades today.

What is the answer?  Pure and simply, it is a radical return to Jesus Christ and to the Christian principles upon which this nation was founded.  Christ alone has the words of life.  He alone can save us.

 "John the Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins."      Mark 1:4

Where Does That Leave Me?

With all of the Bread of Life readings this month, I thought a repeat of this blog would be timely.  I'm in beautiful Wyoming this weekend for a retreat.  Please pray for me!   Happy Feast of the Queenship of Mary!   Blessings and grace,     Judy

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Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you” (John 6: 53). The readings about the Eucharist over the past weeks have jolted forward a memory of a conversation I had more than fifteen years ago. It was with my friend Cecil, who was an evangelical Protestant at the time. We were deeply engaged in a dialogue about whether the Catholic faith was “true” when the subject of the Eucharist came up.

“Christ’s teaching about receiving His flesh and blood was meant to be symbolic,” Cecil maintained. “He said ‘unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you have no life in you,’” she went on. “If that was literal, where does that leave me and the rest of Christians who don’t receive the Eucharist?”

“That’s a good question,” I offered back. “Where does that leave you?”

I can still see the look of consternation on Cecil’s face, and I could tell that she was pondering the question seriously. So seriously that she went back and reread everything the Bible has to say about the subject. Particularly compelling during that review was the fact that “many of his disciples” parted ways with Jesus over His insistence that they had to eat His flesh and drink His blood. Plus the fact that He didn’t chase after them saying: “I was speaking in parables, guys! Come back!” Instead, He upped the ante for the ones who remained, saying: “Do you also want to leave?” (John 6:67).

The shock of Christ’s teaching on the Eucharist would prove to be a hinge that turned Cecil toward the Catholic Church—a hinge that ultimately led her to enter the Church in the year 2000, where she received Holy Communion for the very first time. It was impossible to deny that Jesus meant what He said about His flesh and blood literally, or that that’s the way His disciples and the early Church understood it.

I am convinced that one of Satan’s most ingenious strategies ever was to disengage half of the Body of Christ from “the Body of Christ.” The “source and summit of the Christian life,”* the Eucharist intimately unites us to Jesus Christ, preserving, increasing and renewing the life of grace in us.* Moreover, the Eucharist strengthens us in God’s love and roots us deeply in Jesus Christ, so that when the storms of life come—and come they will—we remain steadfast in our faith. Buffeted, maybe. Shaken loose from the foundation, no.

I experienced this reality personally when my life imploded in 2008. And I saw it again recently in living color in the life of my friend Connie, whose sudden separation and impending divorce sent her whirling physically, emotionally and spiritually. I offered to go spend the weekend with her to lend support, and I was honestly fretting over what to say in the face of so much pain. It was when she asked, “How did you survive all of the things you’ve been through?” that the one and only thing that needed to be said flowed seamlessly from my lips.

“I’d be dead without the Eucharist,” I stated pointedly. And I meant it. I firmly believe that what sustained me during that intense period of crisis was the fact that I had spent twenty-five years as a daily communicant. “Make the Eucharist your life, Connie,” I advised. “Make the Eucharist your life.”

A light came on in that reminder to my friend who was trying to regain her footing, and Connie’s hardly missed a day at Mass or Adoration since. The change in her has been dramatic and noticeable, and it’s apparent that her feet are back on solid ground as she moves into an unknown future.

“Where does that leave me?” so many of us have asked in moments of great trial like death, divorce and other life shattering events. It leaves us utterly dependent on His provision for us, standing squarely on the promise that in and through the Eucharist, He remains in us, and we in Him (John 6:56).

The Eucharist is no mere symbol—it is not just “empty calories” in the smorgasbord of the spiritual life. It is life itself, Christ Himself, waiting and wanting to feed us. The Eucharist is creation, redemption and sanctification all rolled into one. It is a lifeline to the eternal which effects communion with Christ that holds us together until we, at last, are held by Him.

* Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1324

* Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1391-1392

Preparing for the End

IMG_2309I don’t know about you, but everywhere I turn lately, there seems to be some prophetic warning about an impending economic and social collapse coming to America. Secular financial experts are saying it. Evangelical Protestant pastors are saying it. Catholic evangelists are saying it. There appears to be a common consensus emerging from various sources that we are on the precipice of something big—a major shift in life, as we know it. More than one friend has asked me lately if I believe these warnings are true. And if so, what am I doing about it?

While I will admit that my spirit has been heavy lately about the intense moral confusion that seems to have gripped our culture, I have no idea whether or not the proverbial “doo-doo” is getting ready to hit the fan. What I do hear the Lord saying is this: Be prepared, not scared.

So what exactly does it mean to be prepared? Does it mean that we should store food, take money out of the bank, and bulk up on supplies? I believe it means that that we are to prepare spiritually for whatever comes along. And we do that by loving God with all of our hearts, by giving ourselves entirely to Him and by earnestly seeking to do His will.

While we don’t know what the future holds, we do know that life on earth has an expiration date. We should thus live each day with a lively awareness that this day may be our last; knowing that this might just be the day we meet God face to face. Such a perspective would have us ask ourselves every day whether we’re prepared for the end.

I was reminded of this truth three years ago this week, when our family went to the mountains to celebrate the birthday of my then-one-year-old grandson, John-Henry. My new husband, Mark, went with a group to hike a trail known as “The Dismal,” which is infamous for its difficult, uphill climb. As they hiked up the steep mountain, one of the men in the group, Gary, mentioned how grateful we should be to God for every day, because we don’t know if we will have tomorrow. Our hostess, Bunny, who was also hiking, chimed in that we don’t even know if we will have this afternoon. Two hours later, Gary suffered a cardiac embolism and died on the mountain in Mark’s arms. What a sobering wake up call of how quickly life can end.

I had learned that lesson four years earlier when my late husband, Bernie, suffered a massive heart attack. The morning before Christmas Eve, we were busily preparing to celebrate Christmas and welcome our first grandson into our lives. By that afternoon, Bernie lay in critical condition, and he never came home from the hospital. During the three months he spent in the I.C.U., Bernie found the secret to being prepared, which he shared with me when he woke up from a six-week coma. “I surrendered to God,” he whispered, “and I have so much peace.” He lived six more weeks before dying with no fear, because he had found love, peace and hope, the fruit of sweet surrender.

The virtue of hope, quite simply, has everything to do with placing our lives in God’s hands. Hope is about realizing that this life will be over in the blink of an eye, but that eternity with God lasts forever. Hope is about trusting God, and entrusting ourselves to Him. It’s about resting assured that even if the bottom falls out, God’s got us in His hands—hands that we can count on to carry us to safety.

One thing I’m learning is that catastrophic thinking steals hope, and that it is a major killjoy. Conversely, being present to the present moment, surrendering all to God, and trusting in His providence and love fuels hope; hope that is a meant to be a distinguishing mark of the Christian faith.

Let's get ready for the end by seeking the Lord, and by centering our lives on Him.  Anything less is a recipe for fear, which thwarts the way of hope.

Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.                       Matthew 6:33-34

Finding Hope When Hope Seems Lost

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Dear Friends,

With all of the bad news around us, could you use a good dose of HOPE?  I encourage you to watch my recent address to Legatus, which I gave on the Feast of St. Mary Magdalen.  It explains how I found hope when hope seemed lost.  Enjoy!  Please share!  Click here to watch the talk.

Praying always for God's blessings upon you and yours,

Judy

 

 

For Freedom Christ Has Set Us Free Galatians 5:1

Dear Friends, As we celebrate the Fourth of July, we remember that it is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  By grace, Christ has empowered us to do as we ought, not whatever we wish.  This concept of freedom laid the foundation of liberty for our great nation.  We pray for grace, healing and peace for America, and we pray that we will remember our high calling to live as sons and daughters of God.  Blessings and peace to you and your families.

In Christ,   Judy

Photo Credit: Judy Klein

Why I Remain Catholic

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No, this isn't the Feast of Corpus Christi, but I’d like to chime in on a discussion. I want to respond to Elizabeth Scalia’s (The Anchoress, Patheos.com) challenge to present a cyberspace cloud of witnesses all answering one question: Why do I remain Catholic?

So here it is: Why do I remain Catholic?

The short answer is simple: the Eucharist. The long answer is connected to the short answer: because there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else in this life that I desire more.

Though raised Catholic, I came to a personal relationship with Christ in an evangelical Christian church in New Orleans when I was twenty-three years old. The invitation and subsequent decision to give my life to Christ was a total game-changer for me—one that radically altered the trajectory of my life. I am exceedingly grateful for the clear, concise call to conversion I received in that little evangelical church. I still maintain that we Catholics could learn a lot from our separated brethren about pure-D evangelization.

However…and there is a “however”… two church splits and an ego-showdown between pastors left me wandering around looking for a “church home.” Though I won’t tell the whole story now, suffice it to say that Our Lady grabbed hold of me and led me back to the Catholic Church, back to the family table. By the grace of God, I believed and was convinced that Jesus Christ is truly present in the Eucharist,  and there was only one thing left to do. To walk headlong with mouth and heart open to receive bread from heaven—real, living bread—His flesh for my life and the life of the world.

As an evangelical Christian, I had hung on each word that came forth from the mouth of my pastor as though my life depended on it. His sermons were my sustenance, and I gathered like a bird to its mother, wanting to feed right from its mouth. A good sermon? I’d been “fed,” and I’d come back for another. But as the division in our little church increased, the sermons withered, and I was hungry for something more.

I returned to the Catholic Church, no longer lost, but famished, thirsty, wounded. Christ nourished me with His flesh, slaked my thirst with living blood, and gave Himself over to me. Asking no money, no tithes, no payment, He came inside me, closer than I am to myself. For twenty-six years, I’ve consumed Him lavishly and freely, and I still can’t contain the awe.

I don’t pretend to understand the mystery of the Eucharist; I can hardly scratch its sublime surface. But this much I know: I’ve tasted real food and real drink, flesh and blood poured into me right from the Cross, and there is no turning back.  I’ve departed the cult of the sermon and arrived at the heavenly feast. It’s a feast to which, while dim shadows exist, there is no counterpart on earth.

Christ feeds me, feeds us,  His body formed and extended in time and space. His flesh is true food, His blood true drink; it is the life of the world.

Beauty Will Save the World

Photo Credit: Word on Fire

God showed up our home last night. He came through beauty, and I’m so grateful we didn’t miss Him.

God came in the form of four incredibly talented young musicians and singers, friends of my Nashville-based daughter Kara Klein, who want to transform our culture. They’re part of a new outreach called “Love Good Music,” founded by inspirational speaker and composer Jimmy Mitchell for the explicit purpose of evangelizing our culture through beauty. (See their website at lovegoodmusic.com for more information.)

I’m not sure what I expected, but what a breath of fresh, inspirational air Jacqui and Cathryn Treco, Chris Cole and Shawn Williams proved to be. Their simplicity, faith and joy blew me away, not to mention their jaw-dropping talent. While all who attended the impromptu concert were amazed by the young troupe’s musical ability, their mission is bigger and deeper than to impress others with their gifts. Their quest is to draw the hearts and minds of those present to God through beauty, standing in direct opposition to a secular culture where art forms have become increasingly vulgar, obscene and violent.

Love Good Music troupe and Kara Klein

These young people understand that the human heart is hungry for the good, the true, and the beautiful. Drawing upon a foundational theme in the Catholic faith—that is, the power of beautiful art to draw men’s hearts to the transcendent—the musicians hope to inspire others through heart-piercing entertainment. Both Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI and Pope John Paul II, a classically trained pianist and a gifted actor respectively, wrote about beauty’s power to pierce hearts and point men to God. Both quoted in their own work the famous line from Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot,” which says, “Beauty will save the world.”  This is possible by reawakening man to the infinite, the transcendent, to that which calls us beyond ourselves. It happens by pointing man to the true artist and creative force behind all that is beautiful, namely God.  This is precisely what Fr. Robert Barron communicates in his immensely popular "Catholicism" series.

Thanks to the young artists who convincingly conveyed the power of beauty last night through their wholesome, delightful art. May we resurrect in our culture a prominent place for such beauty, for beauty can change the world.

Please enjoy the below video clip of Shawn Williams on violin.  Forgive me for the homemade quality of the video, as it doesn't do him justice, but you'll get an idea of his immense talent, which left us all breathless.  And enjoy the gorgeous painting by my dear friend and neighbor, Marcia Holmes, that graces our mantle, entitled "Reflective Oak." God bless!

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