An Ordinary Sharing in the Mass

The Mass is the core of our lived faith as Catholics. We believe that the Eucharist is the "source and summit" of our lives. We are called to live Eucharistically, meaning we become what we receive. We are called to come to Jesus in communal prayer and go forth in peace glorifying the Lord by our lives.

Liturgy has been a sticky subject for me these past few years. As a four-year member of the Notre Dame Folk Choir in college, I eventually reached the cynical/jaded stage that seniors do, finding some piece of disillusionment with the process even among so much light, good, and joy that our community and ministry produce.

My main problem came during mass when, in the tight quarters of a choir loft packed with risers, instruments, microphones, and 60 people, very carefully orchestrated movements had to occur - psalmists had to make their way from the loft to the ambo; percussionists had to navigate the back-way to switch sides; soloists had to meander to their place in front of the solo microphone; a sacristan had to retrieve a ciborium to give communion. I loathed the dramatic eye contact, the emphatic gestures, the hustle-bustle, and the shifting and sliding that had to happen during mass in order for us to execute our ministry.

I just wanted an uninterrupted opportunity to fixate on the Body of Christ before me, in the Sacrament and the Word and the community. I had enough internal distractions to battle with when attempting to keep focus. I didn't need all this extra stuff.

Fast forward to last year: I am a lay volunteer minister in a Catholic parish in Ireland. What is perhaps our main duty? Liturgy. And I love lectoring and EM-ing, which I got to do from time to time, but we were tasked more with the mechanics of liturgy and primarily the music ministry. I was flustered immensely by our border-line mercenary position as a sort of "hired guns" brought in to be the backbone of a nascent vigil Mass choir and the supporting cast to a sturdily enduring Sunday choir. We took our position in the corner pews by the organ, behind microphones, or in front of a slideshow laptop, projecting lyrics onto the wall. All I wanted was to be among the people, shaking their hands at peace and walking in and out of the church amid the humdrum noise of that weekly exchange of pleasantries that normal parishioners got to enjoy.

I didn't ask to be a liturgist, and that time helped me to more conclusively discern a positive call, a vocational longing, to be in the pews, another face, though an enthusiastic one, just in the crowd. When it comes to listening, participating in the responses and music, and linking everyone with one another by passing the basket or reaching out for hands in the Our Father, I wanted to be a leader in that sense - not necessarily someone with a book or bowl in hand but someone who carried confidence to his place in the pews.

Following Ireland, I came into a position as a theology teacher and campus minister at a Catholic high school. And what was one of the first things I was asked to do in my less-than-specifically defined job? Become the new liturgy guy. I happily agreed, knowing from anecdotal evidence that help was badly needed. Good people had been making good efforts, but more and more help was wanted. So I began to lend the hand that I could.

Meanwhile, I wanted to settle into a new parish in my new town. I was formed profoundly by my Catholic high school experience, but I think parish life is significant in faith formation as well. Parish life is a different access point to community and to faith that is uniquely valuable. My family benefited deeply from our parish growing up thanks to loving pastors and associate pastors, the desire to contribute beyond the bounds of our school, and the chance to have fun with people from the parish through picnics, bowling leagues, confirmation prep, and much more. I wanted to establish a parish presence in my life now, so I can carry it on into my family.

I registered with Sacred Heart, a parish with a K-8 school in my new town. I wanted to have those envelopes in my drawer; I wanted the pressures of being a parishioner when the pastor or the bulletin made pleas for help or offered invitations to join the community in various outreaches or fellowships. Sure enough, the call came. There was a call for additional volunteers to be Eucharistic Ministers, including for the Mass I had made a habit of attending. I pulled it together and made the call to offer myself, thinking it'd be a mild way to begin contributing my time and talents.

I joined the team and was comfortable right away, though I felt a bit on display a couple times when I was stationed next to the pastor, front and center, the only non-grey-haired EM, to distribute Eucharist. The tough part of this has been that there aren't enough people to meet the need, so there is no rotation or schedule. People just show up or don't show up. And rarely do we have as many as we'd like to have (though it's really just a matter of efficiency). I was hoping for a few on/few off thing, or maybe an every-other-week commitment. Now, I'm part of a group that is scratching to get by. I want to establish a committed presence before I breach the idea of not serving every week, because I want to answer my call to congregational membership, too! For now, I continue to show, don the robe and cross, and do my part. I'll work my way up to a part-time role.

Back to school, though, ... we have the bishop coming on Thursday to celebrate All Saints Day with us. We're not the type of community to freak out, do tons of cleaning, and put on a mask just in order to impress. We're secure with our limited resources, with our middle sized staff, with our modest facilities. But the scrambling endures, albeit under-the-radar style and to a much more reasonable proportion. We have special offerings from our six "houses" to the invocation of their houses' saints, but we still don't know the format of them, who's bringing the stuff up, the order in which it will happen. We are banking on our "God Squad" (spirituality committee) to show up with Prayers of the Faithful in the morning at our weekly meeting. We have just now selected our Psalm for the choir and soloist to sing. We have 17 Eucharistic Ministers who know they need to report for duty, but will not get great direction on exactly where... and so on!

I feel no pressure to wow the Bishop, but the desire to do well anything I put my fingerprints on endures. It applies readily to liturgy.

So what's the point!? Sometimes I just want to be a faceless, anonymous member of the crowd, to be at Mass in the thick of it without inside knowledge of the movements and ministers of the Mass. But my context has not really afforded me that possibility. And I accept all this opportunity as vocationally relevant and meaningful. So what can I make of it?

I have never lost resolve with respect to liturgy, though I do need a solid vent now and then as well as the opportunity to dialogue with other ministers who have similarly had great demand placed on their faithfulness. I found a solid piece of advice from my consistent consumption of the blogosphere.

Enter Oblation, perhaps the best spirituality/Catholicism blog whose title isn't inspired by a famous Augustine quote. A recent post discussed the nature of liturgy, and how we ought not to alter the Mass that has been set forth in order for us to share in the Divine Liturgy: "Because every Catholic participates in the liturgy, every Catholic is a liturgist."

Just what I needed to hear. Kinda.

It's one of those "it's true, but you didn't have to say it" moments. It's something we all need to hear, realize, confront. We are all called to awareness and knowledge and sensitivity to the movements, the joy, and the truths of the Mass. It just so happens that my role in that right now is one of leadership and orchestration. I took great heart in the second part of this author's insight, which gestures at the point of liturgy and being a good liturgist:

"A deeper understanding of the liturgy ought to be not only the purview of scholars, but an ordinary sharing in the patrimony of the Church."

We are all called to be active and informed. Mass ought to be something we all take an involved and inquisitive interest in. Good liturgists will create good liturgists by their liturgy.

I need to work in such a way that those who experience the liturgies I contribute to will follow in my footsteps and increase their awareness of the God who loves them, the God who comes believably close to them.

A Brief Word on Prayer

This is a reflection I prepared on prayer to share with some students on retreat. It's my combination of Scripture and theological-spiritual advice for prayer. Hope it's simple and enlightening...

Prayer is our opportunity to share ourselves with God. God cares for each one of us and loves each one of us immensely, and He wants us to share ourselves with Him. God made us and knows us. Listen to David from the Psalms:

O God, you search me and you know me.

All my thoughts lie open to your gaze.

When I walk or lie down,

you are before me,

ever the Maker and Keeper of my days.

God knows us completely, so why must we share with Him? Can't He just read our minds? God is aware of all we are but think of it like a friendship. If you care about a close friend, but you only learn about them by overhearing things they say, is that the type of friendship you want? If they don't talk directly to you and you can only learn about them second-hand from what others are saying, how would you feel? God wants us to come to Him directly. It will mean more for us to go to Him personally rather than rely on Him to do all the work. Listen to the prophet Isaiah's words from God:

Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name: you are mine.

You are precious in my eyes and glorious, and I love you.

Everyone who is named as mine.

Our friendship with God is like any friendship; we must both talk and listen. How do you feel when a friend comes to you and does all the talking? Maybe it's necessary sometimes, but mostly, you want to share in conversation. God wants to hear all you have to say. But He wants you to listen, too. It may be hard to quiet yourself. You might be tempted to get frustrated or just start talking again. You might get quiet but then struggle to know what God's voice is or where it will come from. The key is to leave yourself space for the quiet, so that God can use the silence to speak to you. Listen to God coming to Elijah in the First Book of Kings:

Then the LORD said,

"Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD;

the LORD will be passing by."

A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains

and crushing rocks before the LORD--

but the LORD was not in the wind.

After the wind there was an earthquake--

but the LORD was not in the earthquake.

After the earthquake there was fire--

but the LORD was not in the fire.

After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound.

When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak

and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.

A voice said to him, "Elijah, why are you here?"

Finally, have faith that God answers every prayer. Sometimes what you ask for will come to you just as you hoped. Sometimes God will ask you to wait a bit for what you've asked for. Sometimes God will answer your prayer in a different way than you expected him to. But never, ever, will God say to your prayers, “No.” Trust that God hears you and grants you grace and strength in His infinite Wisdom.

Welcome to Retreats, Kiddos.

Earlier today, I got back from the sophomore retreat for the students from our high school. Five other teachers, five student leaders, and 40 sophomores converged on a ranch retreat center in the mountains of Southern California for an overnight retreat.

One of my first major tasks in working with our campus ministry was to do some intentional work on the format and content on this retreat. I didn't want to mess too profoundly with the structure without having seen it in action, so I kept most things in place and just rearranged the furniture a bit. We talked about (in order) identifying admirable qualities in others, being our authentic selves, rivalry in relationships, vulnerability, and companionship. But I wanted this retreat to open in a different way than it had previously.

These sophomores are a year into discerning and experience the community at our school, including their overnight freshmen retreat, an initial experience of what a retreat can be and how it goes down in our community. But I wanted them to have a better primer, a substantial invitation to what they had boldly decided to dive into. I wanted them to have a sense of what retreat can and should be - not in a proscriptive way but to explain to them the basic spiritual movement of retreat.

So, I offer you my reflections on retreat, which I shared with these kiddos yesterday...

Welcome, again, to the Sophomore Retreat. We're very happy to have you here, and God is ready, as always, to do amazing things with you and for you. So, let me begin by asking... why have you come...?

1) To relax, get away from daily pressure and have some fun.
2) To take some time out to think about myself and my life.
3) To get to know friends better and make new friends.
4) To think about my faith and get to know God a little better.

Usually for retreats, we step away from the familiarity of our routine schedule and the well-known surroundings of our campus. Our school is blessed with incredible friendliness and tight bonds of family, blessings that help us to be more aware of Christ's presence among us, within us, and between us. But for retreats, we try to go off campus to a new place because we want our community to grow beyond the boundaries of any one place or building or piece of land. We want to grow ourselves and our community beyond what we already know. What do you think of when you hear the word retreat?

1) regrouping
2) re-strategizing
3) backing up from hard stuff
4) stepping away

We come on retreat in order to advance; we step back in order to move forward. Retreat is an opportunity to spend intentional time reflecting on our lives so we can make positive changes going forward. Our friend St. Ignatius Loyola loved retreats as a way to renew his community. He believed that God works directly with and for people who make time to go on retreat and approach it as a serious opportunity. Gaining new insight from a retreat is called “receiving the graces,” as Ignatius put it. Our way of proceeding on retreat is to receive graces in deepening our understanding of three big areas of our lives: our self-awareness, our relationship to others, and our friendship with God.

In many ways, it all starts with how well we know ourselves. Our understanding of who we really are is crucial. We come on retreat to increase our self-awareness so that we can build stronger relationships with others and to create a deeper friendship with God. Retreats provide us space, time, and context to reflect on who we are and who God wills us to be. We are given a place where we can find quiet comfort to enter into reflection; our retreat schedule makes significant time for us to dedicate to this reflection; and, if we all commit together, we can create an environment that is quiet yet talkative, serious yet fun, and solemn yet informal. This chance to look within ourselves helps us to recognize God in our relationships and to more fully see Him at work in our lives and in the world.

One of my greatest moments of insight into myself came on retreat. We did an activity that asked us to look at our lives so far, to consider the high points and the low points and reflect on all that has happened to us. As I looked over my life, I noticed that I hadn't really had low points—very few bad things had happened to me, and I had handled those rare lows really well. I was hesitant to share, as my fellow group members were telling stories of difficult lows in their lives. I didn't want to feel left out, so I told them what I had discovered. They were very supportive and affirming. My leaders processed what I had said and suggested that maybe God has made my life relatively easy because he wants me to worry about other people... Hmmmm! This was a pretty sweet revelation. My life has made much more sense in this context, as I have been much more proactive about dedicating myself to helping others who regularly face more serious lows or have more trouble handling them than I might. The space, time, and context of retreat helps us to look within ourselves and see how God can be at work more clearly in our lives and our relationships.

We come on retreat to increase our self-awareness so that we can better relate to others and build stronger relationships. When we take time to tend to ourselves – to confront our inner struggles, to discern our inner desires – we can then offer ourselves to others more substantially in relationship. This is not to say that we can only enter into relationships when we have perfectly sorted ourselves out. It's just the opposite! We don't need perfect insights; rather, we ought to spend time looking at ourselves so that we can share our searching with one another. The more we talk with others, the more we can realize how much we have in common in our thoughts, feelings, and experiences. If you are willing to embrace some vulnerability and put yourself out there to each other, you'll quickly find that a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved while a joy shared is a joy doubled.

When I was on retreat once in high school, we had a reconciliation service. Going to speak with the priest and seek forgiveness for sins was an awesome opportunity, yet the strongest memory I have is the conversation I had with my friends after we had gone to Confession. We were sharing how we were so delighted to have shared the retreat together – the new inside jokes and fun times as well as the chance to share ourselves with each other. And through this, my friend Tommy (name changed for the blog) discovered a new level of trust with us. We had all been friends since freshman year, but Tommy had kept something significant to himself. Building on the community we built together on retreat, he had reached a point of comfort where he felt he could finally tell us what he had been trying to carry on his own: his parents had been separated for a few years, and his dad had moved out. We had spent countless nights watching movies, shooting pool, and hanging out at Tommy's house, but he and his mom had kept this hardship to themselves for years. It took the time, space, and context of that retreat for Tommy to look inside himself and feel ready to share. His sorrow was shared and thus decreased; the joy of our friendship doubled in the new bond we forged.

Finally, we come on retreat to more deeply find our God who is and has always been seeking us. Let me suggest to you a simple metaphor for how you can find Christ in your life, starting with this retreat. Consider the Sign of the Cross (demonstrate): we make a vertical gesture to begin, followed by a horizontal gesture as we finish. We need to open our eyes to Christ in both of those ways. Look for Him by dedicating yourself to a relationship with the God who hears our prayers in Heaven and who watches over us in love. And look for Him also by being attentive to His presence in one another, in all of us gathered here, in everyone at Xavier, and in everyone you encounter in the world.

In college, I went on a week-long retreat for 20-somethings who wanted to better understand how to serve the Church – anything from training to be a priest to just helping out in small ways during free time from business careers. I struck up wonderful conversations with people doing similar searching to me and, in particular, bonded powerfully with two people in particular. Though I plead with you guys not to do this here, the three of us then stayed up until 4am, carrying on a 6+ hour conversation, that started as chit-chat then turned into commiseration over the ups and downs of college social life and romantic problems, and deepened into the ways we doubted our faith and felt strong in our faith. Our life stories unfolded to one another over the course of these late hours. Days earlier we were strangers, but we had now turned into dear friends. Near the end, my friend ended a brief silence with a staggering observation: “You guys, this is gonna sound weird, but you have literally been transfigured before my eyes.” He told us that after all we had shared, there was no way he could look at us the same way as before. We had shared our hearts, our souls, our faith. The presence of Christ had become so apparent that, like the way Peter, James, and John saw Christ in a new, dazzling, immaculate way in His Transfiguration on the mountaintop, Jeremy now had a new visualized appreciation for the Christ he saw in us.

Retreating gives us the time, space, and context to look within, share our struggles with each other, and invite God into it with us. We discover His presence among us through the fellowship of sharing in small and large groups, and the Holy Spirit forges bonds of community between us through the Christ we share. We realize the amazing potential and the inevitable joy of being part of Someone (Jesus!) and Something (our Church) bigger than any one of us.

God says to us through the prophet Isaiah, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine.” Coming here is a small effort we make toward answering our call from God to know Him better. He calls us by name—He calls you (names of retreatants) and you ( ) and you ( ) —to experience our Him through Christ and through one another.
We're here together with an amazing opportunity before us, so here's your chance: bring it all on – your worry that you're the only one experiencing what you're going through, the only one doubting faith, the only one wondering if there is a God, the only one struggling with the challenges of growing up through high school – bring it all on! Bring all of your struggles with you through this experience. The challenges of life can be hard, but they are no match for our God. He is the Light that no darkness can overcome. Let's summon the courage and dedication to share in community, and as we tell God just how big our problems can be, let's also start to tell our problems just how big our God is.

Let me close with a favorite prayer that gives gratitude to God for all He has given us and expresses our excitement for that's yet to come. It can be our commissioning for this retreat : For all that has been, thanks! For all that will be, yes!

Running to be God's Love

God can and will bring good out of anything.

My closest friends have heard me spout this time and time again. The kiddos in my eight weeks of Vision groups have gotten it from me during small-group time. My students will inevitably hear it at some point. I'll assuredly work it into my talks as I get the opportunity to go on retreat with the different ages of students here at the high school where I work.

This is basically the core of my daily faith. It may not be the topic sentence in The Catechism, but it's the precept I return to time and time again. It comes from my belief in a God who is thoroughly and completely of God of love and the God who is Love, a God who is so good and is Good, a God who is the Light that no darkness can overcome. He is the One who can overpower, overwhelm, overcome, and defeat any evil that rears its head in this world of freedom that he gave us. Though the Devil chose to disobey God and leads us to temptation, no evil in the world is greater than the Good that trumps everything.

This piece of my faith sustains my hope and consoles me in times of need. It tells me what kind of God I believe in, what kind of God is here among us and watching over us.

When my girlfriend is hunkering down against the stresses of a rough exam week and pausing her search for the next step in living out her vocation, I know that the Love I mediate to her from God through our relationship will highlight the good, mitigate the bad, and shine Light across our world.

When my parents have been unemployed amid a crappy job market and a steady stream of bills that carry no sympathy for financial difficulty, including tuition payments to amazing schools, I know that God is gracing my parents with renewed faith, that He is finding them even before they search for Him anew, and that I can find peace and comfort in the stronger bonds that emerge between God and my family.

When I see Facebook links to articles from Irish newspapers reporting that a friend of mine and my community in Wexford has gone missing, when I begin to fear the worst, and when his death and suicide become reality, I retain hope that an outpouring of love and support will flow onto the parish and his family, that God will be ever present among them to console their loss and increase their hope in his rest with Christ.

I believe this piece of my faith will come in handy endlessly, an insight that can illuminate any dark situation that may come to me. I am lucky to be predisposed with a strong will power and sturdy self-control so that I can handle tough things with more ease than others might. But I appreciate that healing and consolation requires action on our part, too; we must seek God out to discover His abiding presence with us and for us.

Another way I think of this element of my faith is by imagining a metaphor: I think of it as being almost like a race. When something bad or evil happens in my world, I know God can and will find good in it or bring good from it. So, why not race Him? What if I, allowing a proper moment for grief or emotional hardship, race God to the good? What if I try to discover the good that will come from an apparently evil situation as fast as God does?

It is kind of a silly metaphor, and when I pitch it to friends, I do so knowing that it's a strange concept. Until one day at school here, I saw it happen, before my eyes, in literal reality.

It was our first Monday Mass of the year, a new weekly institution at our school, and we were trying it out for the first time. It's tradition at our school that the school community recites the Prayer for Generosity by St. Ignatius Loyola together near the end of mass. So, we thought, after receiving communion, why not have the students remain on the gym floor rather than going back to the bleachers? We could have them encircle the altar, put their arms around each other, and recite the prayer together in a a more visual, physical manifestation of community. Pretty sweet, right!?

The problem was partly practical, partly teenagical.

First off, the prayer is written on the wall, so the circle of arms-around-each-other breaks down when they're all facing in the same direction. Dang. Well they'll figure it out and include each other well enough, right? Students at our school have a strong reputation for taking care of each other most of the time.

Unfortunately, the way the formation broke, a few teenage boys aced a girl out of their love chain. As we were about to start the prayer, she was standing inside the ring of students and teachers, on her own, about to pray for generosity in the context of having been selfishly excluded.

Enter Miss D.

Dear Miss D. doesn't go a moment in these halls and rooms without being mega sensitive to the challenges of being 14-18 and female. This moment at Mass was no exception. Before the thoughts of exclusion could rush in and sour this poor student, Miss D ran -- ran -- across the circle and threw her arm around this girl as we began to pray.

God can and will find good from evil situations. When we step up and choose to answer the call to holiness, we embrace our capacity to be mediators of God's love and grace. We realize our awesome ability present in our free will to choose love.

I watched the decision get made. I watched the action get taken. I saw love and grace mediated in front of my face. Be the love of Christ for another person. Shine Light into your world, and be God's love.

Circum(in)ventions

People these days increasingly don't want organized religion, institutionalized church, or fixed ideas about much of anything. There is an increasing hostility toward the "imposition" of anything really. Millennials et al don't want to know what you've found to be true. They want to figure it out for themselves, and then they might agree with you, maybe.

The idea of transmitted truth and tradition is too constrictive; it boxes you in to something you didn't come up with yourself and that you might not have chosen freely. There is some beautiful idealism tucked away in there somewhere, but it continues to run amok.

There is value to the idea of challenging fixed ideas and conventional wisdom. We ought to be asking "Why?" to sharpen our answers to the oft-asked questions. However, we all too quickly throw away the transmitted wisdom of our ancestors and forefathers, and I am speaking most prevalently of our faith, our Tradition of a moral code discerned from the Revelation of our Provident God.

Morality, as Benedict XVI has been teaching us, is no longer being considered and practiced as strongly in absolutes. Relativism is sexier and more appealing to the individual-focused spiritual-but-not-religious seeker who embraces the modern religiosity of "Moral Therapeutic Deism," a basic God who made us in love but isn't too actively involved in our world except for mild delight in our triumphs, disappointment shortcomings, and a mild hotline of prayer which we sometimes utilize.

It feels like far too many people have no desire to hold themselves, everyone around them, and society to a high moral standard. The expectation is almost solely that liberality and tolerance be practiced in excess, so anyone who finds a partner or circle of people that freely consents in action can do as they please.

Majority isn't truth, friends.

American law may be made by popular referendum, but we worship a God who is immutable, the source of unchanging truth and an illuminating deposit of faith.

My problem with this evolving attitude of modernity was exacerbated by a story I heard earlier this week on NPR and reported originally by the New York Post (story from NYT). New York City public schools are not only distributing condoms and birth control to teenagers; now they are distributing morning-after pills and doing so without parental consent/informing (the story mentions that families can opt out of the system, which does not even come close to making it ok).

I almost had to pull over for the level of guffaw that this story evoked from me. I could not believe how far the reach of birth control has gone. It exists; it's widely available; it can be gotten without prescription; it can be gotten in public school; it can be gotten from school in morning-after form; it can be gotten without parental consent. The vomit is coming up my throat.

Setting aside for the moment (slash for this blog post) the debated (im)morality of contraception and other birth control methods, it just illustrates a manifestation of this troubling trend of lapsing morality that is diffuse throughout our modern culture.

When we want to do something, even if it has negative consequences for ourselves or others, we do it.

We shoot first and ask questions later when it comes to major stuff. We opt to act how we want to act and figure out how to remedy it later, regardless of immorality or its effects on ourselves and others. Let's go down some parallel roads, and you decide if there's similarity enough across these topics to back up what I see to be the problem.

We love to drink, to have some shots and some beers and get hammered. And I'm not talking about people chemically/bodily predisposed toward alcoholism. So, we invent chaser pills and chug tons of water while we drink ourselves silly to ease the hangover that's coming the next morning. But you bet we won't be drinking any less.

We love to eat, to go pound some monster burgers, huge portions of fries, enormous steaks. And I'm not talking about people with medical conditions that cause severe weight gain or obesity or emotional disorders that cause people to overeat. So, we invent liposuction and gastric bypass surgeries to give us an out when we eat our way to unhealthiness.

We are increasingly in love with some abstract idea of justice, in which our society has become more bloodthirsty for the death penalty, to execute our criminals on death row. And I'm not just talking about gun-nut conservatives in the boonies of the South. We don't want them getting out and wreaking more havoc, and we want vengeance for ourselves and the victims and their families. But we don't want the blood on our hands, and we want them to go quick and peacefully; so, we invent the lethal injection to minimize outward signs of struggle and avoid the visuals of the electric chair and the gallows.

We love to have flexibility and autonomy; we are increasingly wary of committing ourselves to marriages. And I'm not talking about those people who were thoughtful and careful as they moved into marriage but could not make it work. So, we cohabitate - live together before marriage to "try it out" rather than grow a relationship and discern the marriage over time. And when we do marry, we do so knowing that we can resort to a divorce if and when it doesn't work.

And we love sex. This itself isn't wrong, but the social sin comes in our attitude toward sex. We are pleasure-seekers wanting the ecstasy of sexual acts with none of the repercussions of pregnancy. So rather than training ourselves in self-denial or learning the depths of our awesome sexuality that is a gift from God, we give in to our desires with eager abandon, treating sex as a commodity of pleasure, turning other people into, at the most, faintly loved partners and, at the least, into objects for self-gratification. We choose not to look at ourselves in the mirror or adjust our behavior because our pursuit of pleasure blinds us to the errors of our ways.

So we invent condoms to prevent the man's seed from making it to an egg. We invent female condoms or IUD's to insulate the woman from fertilization. We come up with medical procedures to disable our bodies from offering their chemical contributions toward procreation. We invent pills that control a woman's cycle so that she might avoid pregnancy. We create another pill that can terminate a pregnancy before the child develops into (God forbid) a fetus and a newborn baby. And we meticulously perfect "medical" procedures that murder humans developing within their mothers, even as late as their potential moment of birth.

The scene in the NYC school system is a scary one to me, because it is an admission that teenagers can and will have sex, so we should just let them. And we should give them an out when their actions lead them to undesired, unplanned pregnancies. I don't want girls getting pregnant, dropping out of high school, and never returning because of one bad decision; but I also don't want tiny humans dying to give these teens their second chance.

I want a society in which we overcome apparent evils with the incredible love we receive from God. Why can't we pay forward our love of one another toward these challenges and overwhelm them with good? How come we put our energy into institutionalizing a system in which teenagers can get a morning-after pill without parental consent rather than formulating a system of support that helps to pay a teen's medical bills, provide her counseling throughout her pregnancy and after, and create a structure in which she can keep the baby and begin motherhood or offer it for adoption to a family that is waiting for their miracle?

I admit naivety, idealism, and stubbornness. But I refuse to admit defeat in accepting sexual promiscuity, especially among youth. We can restore a vision of love that recenters sexuality on a true exchange of procreative, unitive love. We can overcome the evils of abortifacients, abortions, and under-the-table recourse.

Accepting negative behaviors are not the way to fight them. Education is the way forward. Every time we move further into these shadowlands, it will be more difficult to come back. Let's stem the tide of liberalizing these backwards methods and shine the light of love and life on these situations in which evil tries to rear its head and win the battle.

Practice self-control. Try to do the right thing rather than expecting technology and human innovation to come up with a way that endorses your behavior. Have a morality that's bigger than social relativism. Love the Love that is God, and be a conduit through which His Love and grace can flow to help overcome these darknesses.