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Wednesday Witness: Belong, Believe, Behave

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

Over the past week or so, I’ve found myself reflecting on a homily delivered by Father Richards some years ago. I have written about it before; the gist of the message was this:

  • People in a group or community often insist that those who want to join behave properly and believe correctly in order to belong (Behave, Believe, Belong).
  • People on the margins, however, need a place to belong, where they can come to believe, and learn to behave (Belong, Believe, Behave).

Belong, Believe, Behave is the natural order of things. From the moment we are born into a family, we need secure attachments to our parents to form healthy, ordered relationships and learn to navigate the world. But once we find our place in the world, we often lose sight of the fact that we ever weren’t a part of it.

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Book Backlog: Three Diverse Reads

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

For a host of reasons, I’ve not been doing as much personal writing in recent years. I won’t promise that’s going to change yet, but I’m going to make a start, at least, with short “reviews” of three very different books I’ve read in the last year: a chance spiritual read called Beautiful Outlaw by John Eldridge; Cannery Row, a great short novel by John Steinbeck; and Shantyboat, a non-fiction account of a married couple’s journey from Ohio to New Orleans in a homemade driftboat in the 1940s, by artist and writer Harlan Hubbard.

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Blessed to Be Here

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

This post appeared as a column in the St. Michael Catholic Church bulletin for December 17, 2023.

A couple of weeks ago, we announced that our long-time youth minister, John O’Sullivan, has been hired to promote his brainchild (or rather, heartchild), Extreme Faith Camp (EFC), to parishes across the archdiocese. For those who don’t know, EFC is a wild, week-long Catholic summer camp that brings middle-schoolers to a deep encounter with the love of Jesus through fun and fellowship, small groups, prayer, and the sacraments.

Aside from making Mass a priority in our own lives, EFC was the single best thing Jodi and I did for our kids to engage them in the faith. Where else do tweens and teens enjoy a parent-free week with their friends and come back saying their favorite part was Adoration?

EFC is just one of the many reasons we are blessed to have been here in St. Michael for the past 20+ years. This parish’s strong support of marriage and family life is another, not to mention our beautiful church, our stellar parish school…the list goes on. We are a growing Catholic community because we have something for everyone—every person and family, at every stage.

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MELEE! The Necessity of Close-Combat Evangelization to Secure the Kingdom

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments
Indeed, the word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart. No creature is concealed from him, but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account. – Hebrews 4:12-13
 

As much as I was impressed with the high-tech precision of the Navy SEALS portrayed in Act of Valor—and moved by their sacrifice for our country—I am generally more deeply affected by portrayals of the blunt savagery of older wars. I can marvel at the mathematical elegance of a sniper kill from a mile or more distant, until I recall James Michener’s account of a Polish peasant walking to meet armored and mounted invaders, carrying a length of ash wood he had induced to grow snugly around a few pieces of jagged flint, forming a homemade mace. The time required to grow your own weapon might be long enough to steel yourself to bludgeon an armored man to death, and another, and another. It seems to me that a man who would kill in this way must have the courage of his convictions. There is no hope of distance or anonymity; he must be willing to look his enemy in the eye and get his hands dirty.

* * * * *

Three recent experiences inspired this essay. [Blogger’s Note: This essay was written in 2012, to be read and critiqued in a men’s group.] The first was the continuation of a friendly debate regarding the best way to engage and challenge non-believers (here and here), in which a friend of mine indicated that the older he gets, the more he feels that polite arguments and sustained discussions are not worth his time. The second was an unexpectedly difficult Lenten struggle to hold my tongue, and the third was a men’s group’s opposition to the Health and Human Services (HHS) mandate. All three of these experiences have in common the issue of when and how we should engage those who think, feel, or believe differently than we do.

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Grandpa Vibes

/ J. Thorp / 1 Comment

Blogger’s Note: Now that I’m writing for a living again, I am trying to find my way back to writing for the heck of it (i.e., for the sheer enjoyment). Wish me luck!

A curious thing happened at the St. Michael Catholic Church Fall Festival last month. The celebration was just getting underway on the church grounds; I was setting up a St. Vincent de Paul display in the gathering space of the church (which also serves as our cry room), and Saturday evening Mass was about to culminate in the reception of Holy Eucharist.

Just then, a young father approached me with his infant daughter in his arms. I am familiar with this young man: We are close friends with his wife’s family and attended his wedding, though I’m not sure I ever spoke to him directly before this moment.

He leaned close and whispered, so as not to disturb the other parents praying nearby: “Would you mind bringing our baby down to her mom? She’s working in the food tent outside. It’s almost time for Communion, and baby needs mom-time!”

I was not expecting this, but the prospect of snuggling this baby, even for a few minutes, was irresistible. “Sure!” I said, extending my arms to receive the precious bundle, “Happy to do it!”

“I knew if I found someone like you or John*, I’d be all set,” the young man said. “Thank you.” Then he knelt and returned to prayer.

As I carefully descended the stairs, I nuzzled the fuzzy head near my chin and a wave of infant sweetness swept over me. Her eyes were open wide, but she seemed content. I stopped at the bottom, closed my eyes, smiled, and sighed, briefly contemplating if it would be a violation of trust to find a quiet corner to enjoy this blessing while she was peaceful and quiet. I shook off the desire and headed out to the festival grounds.

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