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I was watching a video the other day of a young woman who had purposefully made herself blind.
She said she felt like she was meant to be “born blind.” And so, through some method, she made herself that way.
Now, obviously and sadly, this person has something wrong mentally. Nobody with a healthy mind destroys their vision. But, she was functioning enough to be able to make the tv rounds and move about in the world.
I think her decision to maim herself speaks to a bigger problem in our culture and that problem is the glorification of victimhood.
Now, I’m not denying that there are real and true victims of crime, prejudice, and persecution out there. But there used to be a time when, as a society, we didn’t seek to be victims.
In a world, though, where people get noticed and given attention based off of how many victims cards they can lay on the table, it’s no wonder we have people trying to make themselves into victims.
When I was counseling victims of domestic and sexual violence, perhaps one of the most frustrating things to me was the unwillingness of my clients to let go of their status of victim. True, they needed to acknowledge it, but then the goal should be to move past that—to not let it hinder or define you.
Victimhood allows you to place your failures and faults at other people’s feet; you don’t have to take ownership of anything because…well…this bad thing happened. You receive pity, attention, and, oftentimes, a safety blanket that covers you from criticism.
These are all “perks” and so people have begun to try to one up each other to be seen as the bigger victim.
When your identity is rooted in your victim status, you cannot thrive. When your identity is rooted in the fact that you are a child of God, you can—even through hardships and sufferings. Christ was the ultimate victim, the slaughtered lamb who was mocked, beaten, and killed, yet He bore it and then He conquered death and destruction.
We are all victims of something. We can choose to wallow in our victimhood, Catholic Pilgrims, or we can unite our suffering to Christ’s and let God use it for redemptive and purifying purposes.
Live the Faith boldly and travel well.
ITALY PILGRIMAGE
‘Journey with the Saints’
OCTOBER 23-31, 2023
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I was watching a video the other day on the Passion of Jesus by Edward Siri. At one point, he is standing inside the Holy Sepulcher up on Golgotha. (Yes, it's all inside this massive church.) It brought back a lot of amazing memories of being up there. That's me under the altar there in the picture. See the rocks under the glass cases? Anyway, watching Edward Siri talk, I realized something very profound. Up on Golgotha, there is the space where Christ died. The altar is over the hole in the rock where His cross was stuck in the ground. Facing the altar, over on the right side is a place for Mass. It is beautiful and lighted. Over on the left side, it is dark. Very dark. What's so interesting is that it's dark and huge and it seems to drop off into an abyss. What I realized is that on either side of Jesus hung two thieves. Their responses to Jesus truly reflect the aesthetics up on Golgotha. The "good thief" had the first confession up there on his cross and he repents, asking Christ to remember him. Jesus tells him he will be with him in Paradise. The side with the place for Mass reflects the good thief's decision to come to Christ.--light and beauty. The other thief mocks Jesus and never repents. The side of darkness up on Golgotha reflects his decision to harden his heart and continue to deny Christ up until his last breath. This is the choice laid before all of us: Do we choose to turn to Christ and repent desiring to be with Him in Paradise? Or do we choose to turn away from Christ and be suffocated by our sins to only one day fall off into darkness and the abyss? This Good Friday, as we meditate on Our Savior's Passion, let us do whatever it takes in our lives to always turn towards Christ. May you have a blessed Good Friday, Catholic Pilgrims.
Continue ReadingOn October 20th, 2020, when my family was living in Izmir, Turkey, we experienced a 7.0 earthquake. My kids and I were on the 15th floor of our apartment building and the building swayed and bucked in the most terrifying and unnatural of ways. For 45 seconds, which seems like an eternity in an earthquake. Certain that the building was coming down on me and my kids, I did all I could think to do and we stood in a door frame praying the Our Father. After it was over, I told my kids to just run. Run out. They ran out with no shoes on and I quickly followed. To make a long story short, the higher ups in the military were worried about a tsunami and so they told my husband to get all military members to higher ground. We ended up in a very poor neighborhood surrounded by Syrian refugees. The contrast in groups could not have been more striking. At one point, a Syrian mother came over to me and started pointing at my feet. I couldn't understand her but it was clear she was asking where my shoes were and the shoes of my children. Through lots of hand gestures, I tried to explain that we just ran out of a tall building. She seemed to ponder this and then walked away. Soon, she came back with shoes for my kids. I was baffled. Here was this poor woman giving to me from the little she had. She saw a mother and her kids in need and she wanted to help. At first, I denied them. I felt horrible taking from her. But, she quickly made it clear that I was not to deny her. I realized that I needed to gratefully accept her gift because she was trying to serve us in some capacity. She was trying to help. She was trying to love. It was one of the greatest acts of charity I have ever received. Peter initially tells Christ not to wash his feet. He doesn't want to be served, he should serve. But, Christ gently rebukes him for this. We find meaning and purpose when we serve others. Sometimes our service to others helps to humble us; sometimes receiving service helps to humble us. It is a great reminder that one of the best ways to love each other is to serve each other, Catholic Pilgrims. Have a blessed Holy Thursday. *These are the shoes given to us.
Continue ReadingWhen I was 17 and turned away from God, I still pretended that I was some kind of stellar Christian. However, I traded a relationship with God to feel comforted by my anger. That's weird to say, but the intense anger I felt was comforting to me. It wasn't real comfort, but it fueled me. But, also, I traded church for sleeping in because I was tired. I traded reading Scripture for watching, listening, and reading whatever secular trash the world could supply me. I traded prayer for doing whatever I wanted to do. All the while, I sat there and lived this barely existent Christian life, yet I had the gall to feign like I wasn't betraying my Lord. "Surely it is not I?" In fact, I did say similar things to Judas in my attempt to pretend like I wasn't one of the betrayers. "Me? Oh, no, not me?" Judas traded the Bread of Life for some money and nearly 2,000 years later we look back and say, "Man, look at him. Gave it all up for thirty pieces of silver. Idiot." However, many give up the Eucharist for even less and we fail to see it. For good music. For an inspiring sermon. For sports. For sleep. For simply the desire to sin while pretending God doesn't see us. There isn't a trade on earth that is worth giving up Christ, Catholic Pilgrims. Nothing could possibly satisfy us like He can. Live the Faith boldly and travel well this Wednesday of Holy Week.
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