The Church comes first

I am a convert to Catholicism.

Prior to entering the Church in 2016, I served for some years as an ordained minister in the Episcopal Church, a Protestant denomination.

Part of my job at that time was to oversee a small hospitality house for the homeless in Durham, North Carolina. The house had, more or less accidentally, come into existence as a group of us Duke University students had gotten to know some homeless men in the area. One thing led to another, and eventually some of us found ourselves living in a large, rented house along with several of these new homeless friends. We were inspired in this largely by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin — and their roles in the Catholic Worker Movement — who stressed our personal responsibility to the poor and advocated the creation of these sorts of houses.

There’s much more to that story, but I mention it because what impressed me about Day and Maurin was the way that, for them, a life of engagement with the poor, Catholic social teaching and social justice was simply part and parcel to what being a Catholic was and not an optional addition you could tack on if it was “your calling.” They went to daily Mass, they affirmed everything the Church taught, and so it was obvious to them that the rest of their lives should radically reflect this. They couldn’t imagine being Catholics and living any other way. They found their inspiration in the lives of the saints, the Church Fathers, and the Benedictine and Franciscan traditions. I eventually became a Catholic largely because I was compelled by this wholistic account of the faith.

And so, when I did enter the Church, I was puzzled when it became apparent pretty quickly that some of my new coreligionists were trying to figure out what kind of Catholic I was. Liberal? Conservative? Social

Breastplate binds us to the holy name of the Trinity and reminds us that God is our protection in every moment: “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me.” uSeek a saint’s intercession. Many of us grew up getting our throats blessed on the Feast of St. Blaise (Feb. 3). As a kid in Catholic school, I always seemed to have a seasonal sore throat by that mid-winter Mass, so the timing was perfect. But did you know there are plenty of saintly friends to call upon when sickness hits? uSit with a healing story. The Gospels are full of stories of Jesus healing the sick: small children, older adults and people with diseases or disabilities. Cures don’t come for everyone, but praying with the abundance of healing Scriptures reminds us that God sees, cares for and loves those who are suffering. uPray for others. The “pain Olympics” of comparison are never worth playing, but it can help to unite our suffering with others when we are feeling low. Remember those in the hospital while you’re sick at home. Give thanks for those in healing professions when you’re stuck on hold with the doctor’s office or waiting at an urgent care clinic for hours. Keep a list of friends and family who are sick and check in with a quick text or prayer. uRest without guilt. God could have designed our bodies to heal by exertion but instead, our bodies usually need more sleep to heal. Listening justice warrior? Liturgy Nazi? For the family? Or for the poor? I realized I was being asked to choose my Catholic identity from a buffet of issues derived from a world of political polarizations and secular social debates. Because I had been introduced to the Church by Day and Maurin, I didn’t find myself identifying with any of these labels. I really did believe everything the Church taught and did my (mediocre) best to practice it. That should make me a “conservative.” But I also loved Pope Francis’ desire for “a poor Church for the poor.” That should make me a “liberal.” But I was neither liberal nor conservative. I was Catholic.

St. Roch survived the plague to become a patron of the ill, along with St. Angela Merici who was devoted to serving the sick. St. Gianna knew the personal and professional sides of caring for kids as a mother and doctor. By winter’s end we might all be praying to St. Jude, intercessor of the impossible.

My involvement with the homeless in Durham had come at a time when my faith was flimsy. Reading lots of secular philosophy and living a morally unserious life are sure ways to start wondering if we could ever really know God at all, or if there was maybe just, behind it all … nothing. But at just that moment I was swept up into friendship with the poor, the liturgy and Christian community. Before long, it became clear that the only real alternative to existential despair was a radical commitment to the Gospel like I saw in Maurin and Day. At the same time, it also soon became clear that it was only the fullness of the Catholic Church that could call for and sustain such a life. There really could be no halfmeasures. It was Catholic or nothing.

This is the perspective I plan to bring to this column. The Church’s approach to “social justice” must be, first, rooted in the Church. Catholic social teaching is nothing more or less than the attempt to see all human life and culture, including economics and politics, with unapologetically Catholic eyes. But the world looks different, after all, depending on where you’re standing. And that means we have to be standing in the Church. Yes, in her teaching, but also in her liturgy, works of mercy, and thick community life. Only then will we have the eyes to see the world the way it really is — and only after we see it will we be able to act in it. That’s why the Church has to come first.

Miller is director of Pastoral Care and Outreach at Assumption in St Paul. He has a Ph.D. in theology from Duke University, and lives with his family at the Maurin House Catholic Worker community in Columbia Heights. You can reach him at colin com to your body, tending to others as caregiver and heeding the Sabbath call to rest are ways to honor God’s care for bodies.

On the bleakest days when you can barely crawl out of bed, remember that “Help!” is a complete sentence and a full prayer. As the Psalmist cries out, God hears every petition and comes to our aid: “The Lord sustains him on his sickbed” (Ps 41:4). Even when our bodies suffer, our souls can draw closer to Christ who knew the depths of human suffering.

May the healing power of the Divine Physician — and the hope of the New Year — lift your spirit this month, in sickness and in health.

Fanucci is an author, speaker and founder of Mothering Spirit, an online gathering place on parenting and spirituality. She is a parishioner of St. Joseph the Worker in Maple Grove.

LETTERS CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE endangered species) is subject to federal prosecution, jail time, and a hefty fine.

Fr. Pavone may not have been prudent by our oh-so-woke Churchmen standards, like the Catholic News Service reporter who prefers the term “fetus” to “unborn child,” but he has shown himself willing to be a fool for Christ — and in the end, like so many who preceded down through history, he may show his prosecutors to be just plain fools.

Anne Collopy

All Saints, Minneapolis

Get the facts, Attorney General Ellison

Attorney General Keith Ellison, in writing his report criticizing the state’s crisis pregnancy centers, apparently has powers to write critical reports without even having the courtesy of visiting the centers to get the facts. Further, while bragging about his prosecuted cases, he never bothered to mention the fact that he didn’t bother to investigate the vandalism by the group “Jane’s Revenge” on pro-life CPC facilities, clearly showing his pro-abortion bias to ignore that criminal activity. During his campaign for office, he clearly stated that he would prosecute laws, even if he didn’t agree with the law as passed. Somehow, he forgot his commitment to that office.

Gene Floersch Our Lady of Peace,

Share your perspective by emailing t he c atholic S pirit @ arch S pm org Please limit your letter to the editor to 150 words and include your parish and phone number. The Commentary pages do not necessarily reflect the opinions of The Catholic Spirit. Read more letters from our readers at t he c atholic S pirit com fully unified heart is rare. There are a multitude of idols and hiding places for the human heart. It is dizzying and disorienting. And yet, I must admit, it makes everything appear easier. If one religion or philosophy ceases to provide a harbor from the anxieties of the world, another can be found. Or perhaps, the same belief system is held onto with a suffocating grip and a diminishing sense of hope. Maybe there is no point in understanding what happens in this life. If that is the case, then does it truly matter what we do? If this life is incomprehensible and just chaos, then we are left to our own devices, to pick out the path, the truth that best suits our tastes.

How easy. How sad.

Recently, a wise priest preached about how miserable it is to live a divided life, one in which our hearts are given to many separate pursuits, leading to different destinations. I can attest to this. In many ways, I have looked to the finite in this world to satisfy an infinite desire. Not trusting that one truth could be deep enough or wide enough to encapsulate all my troubles and questions, I did not entrust my heart to God as fully as I could. I set up my safety nets through academic prowess, popularity and professional achievement.

When I went off to college, I realized that something had to change. Though I didn’t party, I was still separating myself from God’s love by pursuing excellence apart from him. I was a firm believer that personal success, as quantified by paychecks and certificates, was something to be pursued at all costs and that the anxiety I felt was an acceptable price to pay. I let myself answer the

By Katie Kruc

questions I had when the storms of life picked up, and my heart became increasingly restless and dissatisfied. I soon realized that it was because the Lord was calling me to have a heart undivided in devotion to him. I could not pursue anything apart from him and still have it be “good.” I could not have a shallow devotion. This is when I started to better appreciate the depth of the Church as a harbor for the human soul.

Like the man who builds his house on rock, the faith that is passed down by the Catholic Church can withstand the winds of the world and not be shaken. The tradition and teachings of the Church do not strip human life of its mystery. Because there is such a richness to the Catholic faith, it provides people with the opportunity to understand life coherently. It affords the chance of being an individual with unique desires and struggles who is still able to travel along the path of sanctity.

Kruc, 22, is a senior at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities majoring in human physiology. When not helping at St. Lawrence, the Newman Center on campus, she often enjoys playing piano, slowly drinking a cup of coffee with a good book and going for morning runs. Hiking and swing dancing are also ways she loves to spend her time.

“Why I am Catholic” is an ongoing series in The Catholic Spirit. Want to share why you are Catholic? Submit your story in 300-500 words to CatholiCSpirit@arChSpm org with subject line “Why I am Catholic.”