Time and again Our Lord shows Himself brilliant in an argument. On numerous occasions the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees try to ensnare Him in debate. He eludes them every time. Such is the case when they bring Him a woman caught in adultery (Jn 8:1-11). They do so to trap Him. But they fall into their own trap, and leave defeated. We who bear the likeness of Christ, but who often act like the scribes and Pharisees, can learn from this scene.

First, we learn to argue for the right reasons. The scribes and Pharisees were not pursuing truth or goodness. They picked a fight to trap Our Lord. Worse still, they used the law of God not as an instrument for good but as a snare for Jesus. This is why Our Lord’s words — “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” (Jn 8:7) — strike them so forcefully. He convicts them of the sin that they are at that very moment committing — that they themselves were abusing the Mosaic law. They did not intend these things for good but for evil.

We stray into the same behavior as the scribes and Pharisees whenever we argue not out of a desire for the truth or for the other’s good but simply to prove ourselves right. Indeed, this characterizes many marital squabbles. Spouses often fight not to win the other’s heart but merely to score a point and win the match. Worse still, even in the Church people use God’s word as the scribes and Pharisees did — again, not in genuine pursuit of truth and their neighbor’s good, but to prove another wrong and themselves right. Let us learn from the negative example of the scribes and Pharisees. When we argue, let us argue out of genuine love for the truth and for the other.

Second, Our Lord teaches us to avoid certain debates. He does not respond to the question of the scribes and Pharisees. In fact, He ignores it. Only when they press Him again does He stand and deliver His rebuke. He behaves similarly on other occasions (cf. Lk 20:1-8). And in another place He tells us why: “Do not cast your pearls before swine” (Mt 7:6).

Point is, Jesus does not allow Himself to be drawn into an argument with those who are insincere. He knows their hearts. He knows that they desire not truth or goodness but only to accuse Him and vindicate themselves. He does not engage — not because he does not care, but because His opponents lack the basic openness necessary for an argument. He will not cast His pearls of wisdom into their pigsty of insincerity.

We must bear witness to the truth always. But we do not have to debate or explain the Faith to everyone. Because not everyone asks sincerely. In such instances we will find that the truth can actually be sullied and distorted by the insincerity of others.

Most of all we must remember that words ultimately fail. In such situations, the greatest “argument” is the witness of our lives. During His trials Our Lord would not respond to the chief priests (Mt 14:61), or Herod (Lk 23:9) or Pilate (Jn 19:9). Words had failed. All that could penetrate those hardened hearts was the witness of divine love, the offering of His life to the Father. So also for us — when words fail the greatest way to “win” an argument is by acts of love.

Unfortunately, there was great opposition to women ministering in the world. As a result, Francis and Jane decided to create a cloistered community based on the same ideals. They would have a spirit “of profound humility toward God and of great gentleness toward the neighbor.” In keeping with St. Francis’ instruction to seek God’s will in all things, they would seek only God and strive for union with Him. There would be far less emphasis on the ascetical practices common to religious orders of that day. Rather, they would focus on the inner spiritual life and an emphasis on simplicity and joy in a life lived in community.

In 1610, St. Jane and her two daughters became the first Sisters of the Visitation. The order spread very quickly. By the time of her death in 1641, there were 86 houses. Today, some Visitation communities continue to be cloistered, while others engage in more active ministry in the world. All continue to stay true to the dream of St. Francis and St. Jane.

Fidelity toward God consists in being perfectly resigned to his holy will, in enduring everything that his goodness allows in our lives, and in carrying out all our duties, especially that of prayer, with love and for love. In prayer we must converse very familiarly with our Lord, concerning our little needs, telling him what they are, and remaining submissive to anything he may wish to do with us… We should go to prayer with deep humility and an awareness of our nothingness. We must invoke the help of the Holy Spirit and that of our good angel, and then remain still in God’s presence, full of faith that he is more in us than we are in ourselves. There is no danger if our prayer is without words or reflection because the good success of prayer depends neither on words nor on study. It depends upon the simple raising of our minds to God, and the more simple and stripped of feeling it is, the surer it is. We must never dwell on our sins during prayer. Regarding our offenses, a simple humbling of our soul before God, without a thought of this offense or that, is enough…such thoughts act as distractions – Saint Jeanne de Chantal, from Wings to the Lord.

Dear Catholic Exchange Community:

Before I sent last week’s entry off into cyberspace, I thought, “Hmm, I wonder how many people will write me about their most intense experiences of God’s love?”  I expected fewer to respond to this invitation than the one about Lenten disciplines, because the task was much harder, and this proved accurate.

Experiencing the love of God is one of my favorite subjects, not because I’m that type of bubbly, religious enthusiast who speaks of Jesus as if He were a celebrity to whose entourage the fan belongs.  Like most who write, I’m fascinated by what I feel lacking and yet yearn after.  I grew up in a religious community that spoke of the Christian life as “sweeter as the days go by,” trumpeted “something good is going to happen to you,” and rarely told a story that couldn’t be seconded by a “Praise God!”

Of course, in the Catholic faith there’s St. Teresa of Avila and many other saints who have known illuminating encounters with the living flame of God’s love.  That’s far from the folksy hokum I grew up with and it’s something that intrigues me mightily.  I’ve even gone “saint prospecting,” so to speak, in my journalistic endeavors, and have met spiritually gifted people, visionaries, and contemplatives whose direct encounters with God’s love I could not doubt.  I remember pestering a monk one time to tell me about a direct encounter he had with God before the altar—a decisive moment in his decision to remain within the monastery.  He wouldn’t say much—spiritual privilege often brings with it an appropriate reticence.  I did get him to admit, “There was a lot of light; I’ll say that.”

The idea that we can know God in this life is the most interesting thing there could possibly be, if it’s true.  Yet “the just shall live by faith,” which indicates that a degree of blindness — of stumbling in the dark — belongs to each person’s spiritual journey.  My friend the monk had to continue on in the monastic life without ever knowing another grand epiphany, although he did experience repeated moments of contemplation.

Perhaps because I have spiritual ice in my blood, I treasure those moments when I actually do have religious affections, which come as lovely confirmations that my heart, like one of this season’s beleaguered spring flowers, has turned toward the light.   Generally, these moments come as quick and unexpected stabs of emotion.  I’ll hear a line from a familiar hymn and suddenly grow teary.   Or I’ll put my arms around my wife or one of my children and know how blessed I am and can only say, “Thank you, God.”

Today’s readings included Psalm 46, my father’s favorite, and I could hear his rumbling voice — “There is a river, whose springs will make glad the City of God (in the King James) — and knew how God had used him to speak the Word into my life and could barely go on to the Gospel.

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I’m becoming more susceptible to the “comforts of religion” as I age.  When I was younger my heart was stony, and I wondered if my faith, as an intellectual commitment, would ever connect with my affections.

In the last few years I have known the love of God especially through friends.  Like many of those receiving this email, I suspect, I took it in the financial neck from the late fiscal unhappiness.  After having some good years as a free-lance writer, making a decent living, I witnessed my business connections with people in the publishing industry around the country suddenly go dead.  I mean, dead.  There seemed to be an economic power outage.  My family and I only survived that year-long period because of the kindness and generosity of friends.

Then I got a job running the communications department for a global evangelism ministry.  Saved!

That job ended, though, after only 4 months when I was summarily downsized.  At the moment when I heard the news, the world wobbled like a furiously thrown top and then skipped into an unknown galaxy.  I have never felt so lost.  I had moved my family to Georgia, had a house lease to pay, a house in Texas I couldn’t sell, and only my severance pay for a reserve.  We were in bad trouble.

The week after the job debacle, I had a lunch schedule with the one — I mean, the ONE — person with whom I was truly friends in Atlanta.  We grew up together in southern California, where as a teenager I loved riding around in his Triumph.

From my standpoint as an aspiring sinner-in-training, my friend has acquired the bad habit of righteousness.  He was a golden boy and good in the bargain.  This should have made him insufferable, but he was genuine — you couldn’t help but like him.  After law school, a stint at the Pentagon in the JAC corps, followed by a high-flying law practice, he went into commercial real estate because he loves building things.  You should see his eyes as he looks over the landscaping he’s designed around one of his buildings.  The golden boy with the bad habit of being good turned out to be an artist.

When I made the appointment with my friend, I thought I’d show up as his successful contemporary and we could puff out our chests and thumb our suspenders.

By the time of the lunch, my chest was stove in.

He said, “Do you have an office to go to?  If not, why don’t you camp out with us for a while?”

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Through his generosity and kindness, I was able to resume my free-lance writing in one of the most picturesque buildings in Atlanta, a high-rise that looks out over the hill from which General Sherman first spied the city.  When the fog would roll in this winter, the scene outside resembled the lovely if brooding Scottish highlands.

Far more important than the surroundings, though, was his sheer act of love.  I was assured through my friend that God had not forgotten me and was carrying me on to something else.  This verse from St. Paul describes the role my friend played.  “We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us: (2 Cor 5:2-0).

Before I share with you a couple of responses I got from readers about their experience of God’s love I want to share this great NEWS:

I want to introduce everyone to Margaret Monaghan Schay.  (See the accompanying picture.)  She’s my first new hire at Catholic Exchange and will play a key role in development and community outreach.  In fact, you may be getting a call from her, as for the first time — I believe — Catholic Exchange contacts our friends and expresses our thanks for your support in a personal way.

Margaret grew up in a Catholic family of 10, was home-schooled, and graduated last year from Southern Catholic College.  She already has a remarkable amount of experience, as a teacher, a Director of Educational Outreach for Choices Atlanta, Director of Youth Ministry at Our Lady of the Mountains Catholic Church in Jasper, Georgia, an administrative assistant at TriState Financial Network and the Director of Marketing at Triple Crown Academy in Louisville, Kentucky .

She grew up next to Thomas Merton’s Abbey of Gethsemani and used to sneak into the refectory as a child for snacks. As a result of her father’s role at the American Center for Law & Justice, she’s already traveled the world and is wise beyond her years.

Margaret is a gem!

With this letter, I am making a special plea to the Catholic Exchange community to support our growth — CLICK HERE — to give a generous donation today.  We are only able to hire outstanding people like Margaret through your generosity.  Without necessary staffing, we cannot possibly do the job of evangelization that needs to be done in our nation and our world.  So please be generous and CLICK HERE.  Here is what a couple of you so generously shared with me:

Harold, my experience of God’s will, His love, is a one of struggle and intermittent moments of joy.  Sometimes joy is over a honey bee escaping sure death pounding on a window that suddenly ‘listens’ to the dogs’ ‘move left’ barking.  I have not endured much spiritual dryness and the little I have was enough to realize Mother Teresa was a miracle breathing.  Sometimes the worst days are the best and the best days the most disappointing. — Michael E., Medellin, Colombia

My deepest desire was to find a loving husband, become a mom, live in a home in the country with a white picket fence and that raising our children would be our top priority.  At 36 years old that was asking God for a lot. A wonderful man came into my life when I had just turned 37.  He had never been married, had no children and during our year and a half courtship, we began talking about our dreams.  Just before I turned 39, we were blessed with a beautiful boy.  It was after the birth of our son that I realized how much God loved me.  It must be a lot, if it is more than we loved our little boy.  A little over four years later, we were blessed with twins, when I was almost 43.  We had a boy and a girl and the little girl has Down Syndrome.  Challenges, yes! Lots of love, yes!  Many times, even, today (they are all teenagers, now), I say to each of them before they go to sleep.  How was I so blessed to get you?  We live in a home in the country and my husband has recently purchased materials to build a white picket fence. — Marcia R.

I hope you will reflect on how God loves you! And don’t forget that Catholic Exchange is counting on you to CLICK HERE AND SUPPORT US. Thank you!

Every good and perfect gift,

Harold Fickett, President, Catholic Exchange

The Catholic life sees no end to celebration. As the years go round and round, we celebrate some more. Feast days and birthdays and anniversaries and remembrances – you would start to think that life was just one big non-stop celebration.

That’s the great Catholic spirit behind an unusual and delightful set of children’s board books by the occasional Catholic Exchange writer, Heidi Bratton.  Combining her talent for photography with her love of fun and her eye for the tender and funny moments that punctuate daily life with children, she has written and illustrated this inspiring Celebrate series.

Each of the four books focuses in on one aspect of family life, catching kids in candid moments of wonder and joy, but also of puzzlement, hesitation, and sadness. One of the books, Celebrate Feelings takes its cue from Mark 10:13-16 to show how God accepts us all, just as we are, with ALL our feelings. To God we are all little children who need to be with him whether we are feeling up or feeling down.  The whole family will instantly relate to the emotional photographs packed into this delightful book.

Inspired by the story of Noah’s family caring for animals on the Ark, Celebrate Animals enchants with black and white photographs of children interacting with animals. Children’s empathy will be aroused at seeing the loving care other children lavish on God’s creatures and the joyful return of affection from so many animals.

Celebrate Family is a response to God’s cocommand at Deuteronomy 6:4-9 where everyday family life becomes, as the Church teaches us, a school of love.

As love extends outward to embrace others, so Celebrate Me and You was inspired by St. Paul’s analogy of the body in 1 Corinthians 12:14-27, teaching that we all have our place in the body that is God’s family. To be part of the body means using our bodies — using our strengths — to help the whole body of Christ, or at least to help that person right there who needs a hand!  Illustrations include action photographs of the strengths that physically-challenged people bring to the family of God.

I especially loved the very natural inclusion of a Down syndrome child within these books’ photographs.  He appears just like “one of the kids” — which of course he is. Knowing how Down syndrome children are marked for extinction by the culture of death gives special poignancy — and urgency — to his inclusion.

With the easy-for-little-hands dimensions of  5”X5”  any ($7.95) or all four ($24.95) of the these sturdy 16-page board books would nestle sweetly among the jelly beans in your child’s Easter basket — and unlike the chocolate bunny, will still be enjoyed as spring passes into summer and summer fades into fall and another year of Catholic celebration rolls on.

[Copyright Catholic Exchange 2010]

When we pray for an intention and don’t immediately receive an answer, what usually happens?  If you’re like most people, you keep praying.  On the other hand, many people will stop their prayers as soon as their request is granted.  As your relationship with the Lord deepens, you’ll hopefully learn to pray at times other than when you need something.  However, for many of us, this somewhat imperfect form of prayer lays the initial foundation of our relationship with God.  He knows that we will turn to Him more readily when we need something and this is often how He gets our attention.  Withholding an immediate answer is one way that the Lord can cultivate a deeper friendship with us.  As time passes, our prayer becomes more of a conversation with a good friend and isn’t restricted to times of need.

Another possibility is that God wants us to learn something from the experience.  Many times, we are most receptive to hearing His message when we are “wandering in the desert.”  It is often while we are searching for answers that we hear the Lord speaking most clearly.  Don’t hesitate to ask God for an explanation.  When confused about events in your life, use the Blessed Mother’s example of “pondering them in her heart” (Lk 2:19, 51).  He sometimes reveals to us why our request has not yet been granted.  Other times, He simply wants to increase our faith in Him.  Even though our inflated sense of pride often tells us otherwise, God’s will is indeed perfect and there are times that we aren’t able to make sense of His plan.  One of the most important lessons that we can learn is to trust in His providence, even when we can’t understand the details.

Often it is not in our best interest to have an intention granted at a particular point in time.  Due to any number of circumstances, we may not be spiritually ready to receive our request until later.  In this situation, we need to once again trust that God knows what we need at any moment.  It’s easy to get blinded by our love of comfort or worldly attractions, causing us to confuse spiritual needs with human desires.  For example, the Lord may withhold financial rewards or a new job because of our tendency to be greedy or complacent.  It’s wise to remember that anything which doesn’t help us to get to Heaven should not occupy an important place in our life.

We can also obtain a deeper understanding by looking at Sacred Scripture.  In Mark 8:22-25, Jesus heals a blind man.  However, the interesting thing about this miracle is that the man’s sight is not healed instantly.  After the Lord first lays hands on the man, he reports that people look like “walking trees”.  It is only after Jesus prays over him a second time that his sight is miraculously restored.  We can see from this incident that sometimes we may have to wait for God to grant our request.  In Luke 18:1-8, Our Lord tells the parable of the corrupt judge.  In this story, a widow receives her answer only after coming to the judge repeatedly. What is the Lord trying to teach us in this parable?  Fortunately for us, St. Luke clearly explains that its purpose is to illustrate “the necessity of praying always and not losing heart” (Lk 18:1).  St. Matthew describes an encounter between Jesus and a Canaanite woman who requests a healing for her daughter (Mt 15:21-28).  Our Lord initially responds with the shocking words, “It is not right to take the food of sons and daughters and throw it to the dogs”.  However, when the woman continues to plead with the Lord, He praises her faith and heals her daughter.  While certainly this exchange illustrates that Jesus was first sent to reveal Himself to the Jewish people (followed by the Gentiles), it’s hard to ignore the additional message on the importance of persistence in prayer.

Finally, I believe that one of the most important factors in accepting God’s timing is to look at how He patiently He treats us.  Many of us have made the Lord wait for several years before we came around and accepted the Faith.  In my own case, I was a “lukewarm” Catholic for more years than I’d care to admit.  It must have been very painful for the Lord to wait while I wasted time on many unimportant activities and didn’t have time for Him.  Fortunately, He didn’t hold it against me and I am grateful.  That being the case, how could I justify complaining when my prayers don’t get answered right away?  Sometimes, remembering that fact is enough to stop me from questioning the Lord’s plan.  If that doesn’t work, then the steps listed above usually do the trick. For those occasions when I am so stubborn and self-centered that nothing seems to work, I rely on a line from Sacred Scripture that always seems to put things in perspective:

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5, KJV).

Some Christians reading these words over the last few centuries have gotten the wrong idea.  They’ve put this Scripture together with Jesus’ cry from the cross “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.”  Plus they’ve added to the mix the Apostle’s Creed assertion that Jesus “descended into hell.”  The result is a huge misunderstanding.

It goes something like this.  The sin of the human race called down the punishment not only of physical death and suffering but also spiritual death, total separation from God which is what  hell is all about.  Jesus bore this punishment in our place.  This means that he took our sins upon himself to the point that he actually became sinful and abhorrent to the Father.  He was thus truly abandoned by God on the cross and spent three days in hell, with the rest of the damned.

Let’s unravel this wrongheaded idea.  Last week we discussed the true significance of “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.”  This week we need to clear up the other two misunderstandings.  First, there is 2 Cor 5:21.  In Hebrew, the same word means both “sin” and “sin offering,”   What Paul is really saying is not that Jesus became sinful, but that he became a sin offering.  This kind of sacrifice was understood as compensation or restitution to God to make up for offending him through sin.  Honor and glory that God deserved had been withheld from Him; in the sin offering, perfect, costly animals, the most valuable possessions of the typical Israelite, were paid back to God in reparation.

The Passover Lamb had to be perfect, without blemish, and his bones could not be broken (that’s why Jesus legs were not broken like the two thieves, John 19: 32-37).  Jesus did not become sinful; he was the Lamb of God who took away the sins of the world by canceling them out through a sacrifice of overwhelming value.  His self-offering was an extravagant gift.  It consisted of all the love, humility, and obedience that human beings owed to God but had unjustly withheld from him for centuries upon centuries.

The Father is not a blood-thirsty tyrant whose wrath is appeased by the suffering of Jesus.  He is the loving Father in the story of the Prodigal Son who respects his son’s freedom too much to force him to stay, or to send a posse after him once his sins led him to the brink of despair.

The Prodigal Son walked away in arrogance.  He would himself have to travel the road back in humility.

Adam, Eve and all of us walked away in pride.  We, their sons and daughters, would have to walk back in humility.  Trouble was, we couldn’t, so deeply had we been wounded by sin.  So God became man and walked the road for us, though it turned out to be the way of the cross.  Perfect humility.  Perfect love.  Perfect suffering.  Relentless and undeterred by every conceivable stumbling block and snare that hell could put in its way.  That is what redeemed us and paid the debt of our sins.

But what about the phrase in the Apostle’s Creed “he descended into hell?”  The word used for hell means not the inferno of the damned (Gehenna), but the abode of the dead known as Sheol, Hades, or Limbo.  The meaning of this is simple– he truly experienced the separation of his soul from his body.  It was no drill.  He really died.  For us.  For me.  It was love to the bitter end.

So Jesus is the conquering hero, not the scapegoat.  His free gift of unconquerable love is what atones for our sins.  And the Fathers rushes out to meet him in love, clothing him (and us) with the resurrection.

The passion, then, is all about love.  For God so loved the world that he sent his only Son who would lay down his life for not only his friends, but even for his enemies.

While the most remarkable element of this parable is Jesus’ depiction of the Father, I want to start with the two sons. They have a way of representing us all. Most of us find ourselves like one or the other at different points in our lives. The younger son struggles with being immature on several levels and wanting to find meaning in the pleasures of life. The second struggles with pride, thinking that he is better than the younger son and that he has it harder than the younger.

The younger son is quite brash. He basically slaps his father in the face. He asks for half of the father’s inheritance before the father has passed away. Then, he squanders that inheritance on a life of dissipation, foolishly pursuing pleasure without concern for others. He ends up broke and tending the pigs on a farm which, for a Jew, symbolized that he had reached the depths of despair and humiliation. When he has literally nowhere to turn, he decides to go home to his father and ask for a place among the hired hands.

The older son, on the other hand, has a hardened heart. He seems jealous of his father’s affection for the younger son. He can’t understand why the return of the prodigal is so important to the father when he himself has been so responsible over the years. He can’t bring himself to celebrate his brother’s return. He even gets angry with the father for being so quick to take the profligate son back into his home.

The power and the beauty of the parable lie in Jesus’ depiction of the father. The father starts by giving half of his inheritance to a young son long before his death, an unheard of act of generosity. While the son was still a long way off, the father catches sight of him, giving us the sense that the father was constantly looking down the road, anxiously waiting to glimpse his son in the distance. This father would not rest until he has his son back by his side. Furthermore, the father is “filled with compassion” upon his arrival, not anger or contempt. Then, the father runs to his son, embraces him and kisses him. The robe, ring and sandals were clear symbols for the Jew that the young man was being reinstated as a son in the family because what he had done earned the punishment of being cast out of the family and permanently banned.

What do you think was dearest to the father’s heart, his estate or his son, his reputation or his son, his frustration or his son?

This is certainly the family of which I want to be a member. This is the father I want to call my own. This is the house where I want to spend eternity.

We are invited by this great parable to ask ourselves some questions this Lent. Which brother do I resemble these days? Am I being young and immature with my use of the Father’s gifts? Am I in pleasure-seeking mode? Am I thinking that the world revolves around me? Am I convinced that life is all about good times? Am I aware of the needs of those around me? Am I forgetful of where my gifts come from and that I have been given them to use in the service of others?

Am I like the older, hardened son? Do I regularly look down on others with disdain? Am I frustrated because I try so hard and others do not? Am I proud of my progress on the journey of life? Do I constantly compare myself with others? Do I have a difficult time when others receive the attention of friends, family members or colleagues at work?

Jesus uses this parable to paint a picture of our heavenly Father whose mercy is deeper than the oceans and endures forever. With a Father like that, how can we ever be afraid to come home? How can we not be moved to look over our lives, see where we have gone astray, and come back to Him with humble and contrite hearts?

I’ve taught my own children about the Stations of the Cross since they were about 3 or 4 years old. They have known that Jesus died for us, for them. Our Church has a huge crucifix hanging over the altar. We have crucifixes in our home. I always felt that they should know who that man is hanging on the cross, what the crucifixion meant. Without understanding that, they can’t truly understand what it means to be Christian.

This year, I am teaching Pre-K through 1^st grade religious education. For the season of Lent, I found some coloring sheets of the Stations of the Cross. We are doing three each week. Over the course of Lent, the children will get the full story. It seemed an appropriate thing to do, a simple way to introduce them to the story of Christ dying for us. Several of the children already knew about the Stations and were excited about having the full set of pictures. Therefore, I was very surprised when a mother of a child in my class informed me she was pulling her child from my class because I was teaching about them. She said that she felt that they were too graphic for young children.

Of course, she has the right to pull her child from my class. A parent always has the right to decide about the education of her child. I told her I was sorry that she felt that way, but I did not apologize for teaching this crucial part of our faith. Nor did I change my lesson plan for this week’s class. I discussed the matter with my religious education coordinator. Thankfully, she backed me up and said that what I was doing entirely appropriate. As she stated, “Easter is not about the Easter bunny!” This is so very true.

The Stations of the Cross are not pretty or comforting. They are not meant to be. They tell a horrible story of suffering, of a cruel, undeserved death. If that was all there was to the story, it certainly wouldn’t be appropriate to share with young children. But it is not the end of the story. Easter is coming! Jesus suffered, died and rose for all of us. That includes young children. They deserve to know the truth.

“For God so loved the world…” (John 3:16).   So begins everyone’s favorite Bible verse.  The phrase has a wonderful drive to it.  It captures God’s fundamental desire to share his life with humankind, even at the cost of his Son’s life.  Through Christ’s sacrifice God shows us how much he loves us, and his desire to have that love returned.

Love is the first and last word of the Christian faith.  The love of God is a “crazy love” in the sense of being offered freely.  “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). God’s love takes all theinitiative: from creating a good world, to bestowing the gift of life, to reaching out to fallen and broken men and women.

In my experience, it’s remarkable how little the love of God is emphasized in Catholic and other Christian circles.  In Catholic circles in particular there’s a lot of emphasis on moral boot-strapping.  Try harder!  Do your part.  There’s a discipline to the spiritual life…etc.

All true, and yet that’s not the first thing to be said, nor should it be the default summation of the spiritual life.

We need to talk more about God’s love as the oxygen of the spiritual life.

I understand that those who love God obey his commandments — that love and obedience go together.  But what about falling in love with God?

When you fall in love with your wife, it’s not hard to serve her — it’s a pleasure — at least most of the time — even when it costs.

If we’d put the emphasis on falling in love with Jesus, we’d find the power — the grace — to serve him would follow — not only more easily but more authentically.  We’d find that “we love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).  God is eager to fill us with his love.  The love we’d then return to God, as the saints have taught us, would be God’s own love.

Perhaps stressing the love of God is difficult because it’s overwhelming, and demanding.  Moralism has a narrower gauge — a comforting measure.

God’s love is fierce. He wants not just some of our love but all of it.  He wants all of us.  Think about that for a while and it will either take your head off or put it back on straight.

God’s love is actually what we want, too — to be known and to be loved are the human person’s deepest desires.  We want to be loved completely, for all time.  We want to belong utterly to someone.  This is true passion.  Only God can love us, without fail, in this way.

Christianity is the great romance.  If you take the romance out of it and substitute moralism it dies — and then it rots and become putrid like a dead fish.

Usually at this point in the homily it’s time to bewail our manifold wickedness.  “Go away from me, Lord: I am a sinful man!” as Peter exclaimed (Luke 5:8).

I had a lovely experience this week, however, which cheered me enormously and gave me a glimpse of the pleasure God takes in his people.  I asked you to write about what you are doing for Lent, and you did in considerable numbers.  The love for God displayed in these letters sent my heart sailing and made me incredibly happy that I’m working with Catholic Exchange.  I kept saying to Margaret Schay, our Marketing Specialist, “Listen to this!”

Terry C. wrote that she is fasting too. “When I feel grumpy and hungry, I try to think of the poor who have no choice and feel that way every day of the year…the real result of fasting is a greater concern for the poor.”

Ann M., an overseas correspondent, writes, “I’m off chocolate, biscuits, ice cream, wine, crisps, cake…”

Stephen M. is devoting more time to his kids.  “A very simple thing I do in our family — I make the lunches for our four children, ages 9-18. Each day in their lunch they bring [among other things] a single medium sized pretzel to school during Lent. The pretzel has an interesting religious history and serves as a daily reminder for the season.”

Gary G. is offering his Lenten practices on behalf of his son.  “My son is a freshman in college.  I was talking with him by phone the weekend after Ash Wednesday and asked him (hoping) if he had gone to Mass on Ash Wednesday.  He really surprised (shocked!) me when he mentioned in passing a couple of things he was doing for Lent…we really wondered if he was going to truly embrace the faith.  My Lenten prayers, fasting, and almsgiving have a new bounce in their step when I think of God’s great gifts for my son.”

Many wrote very personally about trials they are facing in their own lives and in the lives of their families and how their Lenten disciplines are helping them cleave to the Lord.  Throughout, the messages shone with love for God.  “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God” (Psalm 46:4).  That river is love.

Every good and perfect gift,

Harold Fickett, President, Catholic Exchange

The Long Way Home is the second book in Klavan’s Homelanders series. As the story goes, Charlie West is a high school student whose saga began in an ordinary American town. One night he went to bed and the next thing he can remember is waking up a hunted man. In the sequel, we catch up to Charlie as a terrorist group called “the Homelanders” is trying to kill him. He’s been convicted for a murder that he can’t remember, so police are hunting him too. As armed forces are closing in all around him, Charlie escapes and makes it back to his hometown. There, he’s the top story in the news. His best buddies and girlfriend figure out that he’s hiding in a spooky old abandoned mansion, so they come to help him in his quest for truth, justice, and reunion with his family.

Like a number of parents who reviewed this book in cyberspace, I read The Long Way Home to see if it would be good for the young.   Like other adults, I found myself chasing Klavan’s 18-year-old fugitive to the end of the book, where I ended up wanting more… and now I can’t wait for the third in this series.

Andrew Klavan, an atheist who converted to Christianity, knows what young people face in the war for their souls. Like the writers of “24,” Klavan masterfully illustrates the fact that each individual somehow shapes society and, ultimately, history. However, Klavan shows that faith illumines reason.

When John Nolte of bighollywood.com interviewed Klavan about the first Homelanders book, The Last Thing I Remember, Klavan said:

[Y]ou can’t hammer people with your point of view, so I decided, okay, I just want to change the rules of the game, that’s all. Instead of the usual alienated teen, or the wimpy guy who finds a magical sword, I’m gonna make my hero the kind of hero I like to read about: a manly guy who loves America, believes in God and is ready to fight for liberty if he has to. I thought, in the current climate, that alone would be revolutionary.

So here you have it: In the darkness of night and the light of day, Charlie West lives by Christ’s commandment “Be not afraid.” Along the dangerous way to finding out if he’s really guilty or clearing his name, along the way to exposing the Homelanders, Charlie discovers that almost everyone he knows is involved in the plot. His history teacher, Mr. Sherman, came forward as a witness in the murder case. But Charlie stood up to Sherman when he preached that boldly illogical yet widely-believed claim that there is no absolute truth. In every fight with the terrorist thugs, Charlie relies on the training of his Karate instructor Sensei Mike, a war hero who teaches that lethal force is the last resort. But what will the black-belted mentor do when Charlie goes to him for answers? To everyone’s surprise, Charlie’s geekiest buddy, Josh, proves himself the bravest friend. Then there’s the pure love between Charlie and Beth — reason for the book’s most terrifying and heart-pounding scene…

Move over Harry Potter, young wizard. Step aside Edward Cullen, enchanting vampire. Charlie West the Christian is here to stay and save the day.