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It was the perfect family photo for our 2025 Christmas card. Taken at a dinner marking the centennial of our parish, it pictured our bishop flanked by members of my family. Shockingly, no one in the group of twelve was blinking, grimacing, or chewing ziti when the camera clicked. There was only one problem: my son Leo was not in the photo.
Having decided in 2007 that God did not exist, Leo—who was seventeen at the time—left the Church. He posted the declaration of his newfound atheism on a huge social media platform where he, as the son of a prominent Catholic scientist, found himself much admired for his brave, public repudiation of the Faith. Emboldened, Leo then applied himself to freeing his siblings from the “shackles of religion,” thus contributing to a set of circumstances that ultimately drove two sisters and one brother away from the Church.
Today, those four of my nine children remain outside the Church. Their reasons for this are varied: disagreement with Church teachings, a skewed view of women’s roles, perceived inaccuracies in the Bible, the belief that “being good” is good enough. Still, nostalgia and a love of tradition impel most of my prodigals, despite their lack of faith, to participate in some of the Catholic practices with which they were raised.
But not Leo.
These past few Sundays, during NFL game breaks, family members both prodigal and practicing have gathered around the lighted Advent wreath to sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” before enjoying a halftime repast.
But not Leo.
Two weeks from now, after a joyous and wonderfully chaotic Christmas Eve exchange of gifts, the family will sing “Silent Night” while an heirloom “Gesu Bambino” is placed in a rickety tabletop manger.
But not Leo.
Come Christmas morning, members of the family will attend Mass. Most—though not all—will have come to worship. There may be some chatty whispers coming from our pew, and keen-eyed parishioners may spot both surreptitious texting and postures that don’t quite line up with the Mass prayers. Still, we will be present.
But not Leo.
The aforementioned “perfect family photo” was indeed used for our 2025 Christmas cards. In our files I’d found a suitable photo of Leo and edited it so that Leo could be seamlessly added to the family lineup. I hadn’t expected it would be so easy to do.
I also hadn’t expected that I would break down in tears during the process.
“You were within me, but I was outside,” lamented St. Augustine of his years spent in apostasy. “You were with me, but I was not with you.”
It is heartbreaking to see our loved ones turn away from the Source of all that is good and true. We ardently desire our prodigals’ return; we wish that we could simply crop out their skepticism, remove the shadows of error, enhance their trust, and then insert them into the waiting arms of Holy Mother Church.
While there is no quick-fix editing tool for bringing our prodigals back to the fold, there is the St. Monica Ministry, a support and prayer network for the families and friends of fallen-away Catholics. It was at the behest of my bishop that I founded the St. Monica Ministry in November 2022. Now, three years later, the St. Monica Ministry is a global outreach, with 34 parish-based chapters in the United States and subscribers on five continents.
Because prayers are being answered through the intercession of St. Monica and the humble efforts of the St. Monica Ministry, I am especially hopeful this Advent season. The promise of my prodigals’ eventual homecoming clings to my Christmas preparations like myrrh, a sweet reminder of God’s presence even in privation. I am convinced that, in God’s own time, my loved ones will return to the Church.
Even Leo.
Author’s Note: The St. Monica Ministry Manual outlines a simple but effective program for those suffering due to loved ones falling away from the Faith. A PDF of the manual, plus a subscription to the monthly St. Monica Ministry newsletter, may be obtained free of charge by sending a request to StMonicaMinistry27@gmail.com.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
