What is true
even when I wish it wasn't
Hi friend. I’m so glad you’re here.
As we transition together from the Raised Catholic podcast community to the My Little Epiphanies Substack community, here are some of the elements you can expect from each week’s newsletter moving forward: a reflection, some photographs that I hope will serve as mini-meditations, some recommended resources, a prayer, and a replay of a Raised Catholic podcast episode or some earlier writing of mine. I hope it’s all helpful, and I’m so grateful that you’re here. Let me know in the comments what you’d like to see more or less of as we move forward, and please tell me a bit about yourself, too. I’d love to hear from you.
What is True
Well, friend, I just don’t know. I’ve written half a dozen versions of this reflection, and I still don’t know. Political scientists and historians will pour over how we got where we are, and where it all might lead1, and the hypotheses are rising from every corner, but in an existential sense, it does feel like we’ve crossed a Rubicon of sorts and there’s no going back. That professed Christians in huge numbers appear to have voted in they way they did and believe this win is an act of God is something that has me bewildered, scared, and asking myself some pretty serious questions about what is true.
As Paul says in the Letter to the Philippians:
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Over the past few years, I have been telling myself some stories about who we are as a country and a church, and over the past few days, I am realizing that I’m not sure they were ever true.
It’s always been true that it’s our responsibility as Christians to discern whether our leaders, in their words and actions, reflect Jesus of the Gospels and the fruit of the Spirit2. It’s our job to avoid the lure of political idolatry and Christian nationalism. When we reject the words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount in favor of a more “muscular” faith that looks nothing like the self-sacrificial and humble Jesus of the Gospels, it’s hard to know what’s at the heart of a movement like that, but it’s not Christianity. I know that much is true.
“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
“He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
It’s our job as Christians to see the image of God in the other, even as we seek to solve very real problems that transcend partisanship, and to see Jesus’ preference for the poor and suffering among us. I fear what happens when we turn our backs on the very real and apparent suffering of others. I can’t make sense of the many instances I see of professed Christians viscerally rooting for the pain of their fellow humans.
I have been saying that this Church of ours, though broken and dying, and as a friend recently said, may already be dead, may be in a process of resurrection. Now I’m not so sure. Lately it feels like the whole thing may need to burn allll the way down so that something of God might rise from its ashes. I do hope that happens sooner rather than later.
As for me, this week I found myself in front of preschool music classes, shaky with the understanding that some of my most profoundly disabled students would likely lose prioritization in the next administration. The possibility that these literally non-verbal students are at risk of losing their voice and support in a public school system that already teeters on the edge is a pretty sure bet.3 On Thursday, as one severely autistic kiddo rushed forward and put her face in front of mine as I was leading class, my instinct was to raise my hands and cup her face as my mother often did with me. I saw her, and she saw me. Sometimes that’s exactly what we’re called to, and I’m trying hard with varying degrees of success to see both the powerless and the powerful as Imago Dei. Is that something you’re trying to do, too?4
By Friday morning, I experienced a calm and defiant joy, fueled by an indwelling of the Holy Spirit, coffee, an aversion to social media, and a couple of just-right songs playing on my car radio.5 On my way into class, I did not have a lesson plan in mind but wanted to bring some peace along with me. To make that happen, I had to find peace within myself, so I decided on a water theme and asked the Holy Spirit to join me. Thankfully, He did.
We sang ‘Peace like a River,’ we joined our hands to create a walking ‘ship’ that sailed through the classroom, we ‘rowed’ our collective boat on the rug headed for Disney or other places we could imagine. (Honestly, Disney is where the kids most wanted to go.) But, as we ‘rowed’ there on the rug with our colorful scarves, I reminded the kids that we were rowing as a team, each of us doing our part. “We need each other to get where we’re going,” I heard myself say, tears filling my eyes.
Because that’s it, right? We do need each other as members of one Body, but I’m wondering if this is a truth we have forgotten as church. As I said last week, wherever we go, we’ll go there together, for better or worse, but oh how I wish this dark water was not where we chose to sail our collective boat, trusting ultimately on Providential winds as we always do. It’s murky and dangerous and so hard to see any light ahead. But as much as I hate this reality, I have to admit that it is true, and then make some decisions from here about who and how and where I want to be in this new reality. And I’m wondering, friend, how about you?
Raised Catholic/My Little Epiphanies rewind
Raised Catholic ep. 25: Christian Nationalism - transcript and link to episode
Raised Catholic ep. 128: Our Global Church - transcript and link to episode
Raised Catholic ep. 101: Upside Down Kingdom - transcript and link to episode
What I’m watching/listening to/reading/recommending6
walks, tea, limits on social media
song: Psalm 23, by Poor Bishop Hooper
song: Hope Machine, by Okee Dokee Brothers
song: Blessing in the Storm, by Kirk Franklin & The Family
website: Christians Against Christian Nationalism
instagram follow: The New Evangelicals
video: “Why I’m heartbroken over this election and why,” by Steven Broome
instagram reel: “Walking with the Spirit toward dread,” by John Freeman
Prayer
Oh God whose eye is on the sparrow, help us to find your light as we walk this road and to lift up our sisters and brothers in need in the way you taught us. For us, our dear ones, and our country we pray in the name of Jesus and wrapped in the mantle of our Mother Mary, amen.
Is it a comfort to say that no one knows where it will lead?
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Galatians 5
If the next administration champions special education or education of any kind, I’ll never be happier to be wrong.
Is it? How’s it going for you? I’m listening.
I have created a playlist for us called Raised Catholic Recommends. It’s all faith music of different genres, and inspirational and comforting, so give it a listen. Also, one of the songs I listened to that morning was a very inspirational one by Salt-N-Pepa that was outside of this list. :)
Honestly… a lot of old sitcoms to calm my nervous system.