Wednesday Witness: Corporal Works of Mercy – Bury the Dead

January 29, 2025 / J. Thorp / Leave a comment

These Wednesday Witness columns essentially track what the Lord is doing in my heart and life regarding the seven Corporal Works of Mercy:

to feed the hungry
to give drink to the thirsty
to clothe the naked
to shelter the homeless
to comfort the sick
to ransom the captive (to visit prisoners)
to bury the dead

If you look closely, one of these works is not like the others: While the first six Corporal Works concern the needs and comfort of living persons, the seventh focuses on our bodily remains. As a result, it has often seemed like the work I’m least likely to carry out in any practical sense, since I am not a minister, mortician, or cemetery attendant.

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A Year Apart: Reflecting on My Father’s Passing

January 28, 2025January 28, 2025 / J. Thorp / Leave a comment

One year ago today, my father passed away.

I flew to Michigan early that morning with the experienced observation of a close family friend ringing in my head: It won’t be long. The flight was flawless and landed early. When the rental car clerk learned why I was in Michigan, he expedited everything, and I was on the road in minutes. Traffic moved. The pavement was dry. I drove the limit and made myself relax, reflecting that this was unfolding in God’s time, and I would arrive when I should.

I arrived just in time. My sister came out to greet me in the driveway and said she thought Dad may have just stopped breathing. I went in and held his hand, which was warmer to my touch than it had been in years. I spoke to him softly, telling him it was okay, telling him to go to the Lord and not to be afraid, telling him we were okay and would take care of each other.

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Wednesday Witness: Let Yourself Be Loved

December 4, 2024 / J. Thorp / Leave a comment

We are blessed to be hosting two young women from the NET team leading retreats for our St. Michael Catholic School middle-level students this week. It’s a wonderful opportunity to practice hospitality in our own home, underscoring the wisdom of the old saying, “It’s better to give than to receive.” We feel very blessed to open our home, to share our food, to visit and pray with people who are making themselves available to our daughter Lily and her classmates in such a beautiful, faith-filled way.

But the gift of giving is not what this column is about. Instead, I want to focus on the gift of receiving.

These two young women came into our home not knowing at all what to expect. We have a large and overfriendly dog and a house that comprises a wide array of half-finished renovations. We had a supper plan made independently of them. We knew nothing about them and wanted them to be comfortable, so we asked questions, provided options, and generally talked their ears off.

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Wednesday Witness: ‘You Can’t Save the World’

November 13, 2024November 13, 2024 / J. Thorp / Leave a comment

This column is part of a new, weekly series on what the Lord is doing in my heart, specifically encouraging me to simplify my own life in order practice the virtue of charity and the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Come back each Wednesday to read the latest!

I’ve always been a big-hearted and emotional fellow. As a grade-schooler, I tried to intervene when those who were littler than me (not many) were being bullied. Invariably, I took a thumping myself. But I couldn’t help it: I hurt to see others hurt.

Whenever I got wound up about some injustice or suffering, real or imaginary, Dad would say, “You can’t save the world.”

What he taught me, instead, was how to stand up for myself, to treat others with respect, and to look out for my own—my family and close friends, those whom I could count on to help take care of me.

Dad was right: I can’t save the world. I can’t even save myself. Jesus is the sole Savior of the world, and—thanks be to God—it is accomplished (John 19:30).

But I don’t think our eternal salvation is what Dad meant.

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Wednesday Witness: At My Door

November 6, 2024 / J. Thorp / Leave a comment

In last week’s column, I referenced a letter from St. Vincent de Paul, in which he describes our obligation to the poor person at the door. While I was on retreat, the phrase “at the door” stuck with me. We live in a mid-1980s neighborhood in Albertville—a curving, suburban street with split-level homes, mature trees, the barking of dogs, and the laughter of children. We have no beggars, no one camping in the park, no one asking for handouts.

We do, however, have two men with developmental disabilities. Both are about my age (one, a little older; one, a little younger). Both grew up in this neighborhood, and their natural sociability means they know everyone. Both have been friends with us as our family has grown up, until, one by one, my children have aged past them, despite being a generation younger.

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