Where Does That Leave Me?

With all of the Bread of Life readings this month, I thought a repeat of this blog would be timely.  I'm in beautiful Wyoming this weekend for a retreat.  Please pray for me!   Happy Feast of the Queenship of Mary!   Blessings and grace,     Judy

Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you” (John 6: 53). The readings about the Eucharist over the past weeks have jolted forward a memory of a conversation I had more than fifteen years ago. It was with my friend Cecil, who was an evangelical Protestant at the time. We were deeply engaged in a dialogue about whether the Catholic faith was “true” when the subject of the Eucharist came up.

“Christ’s teaching about receiving His flesh and blood was meant to be symbolic,” Cecil maintained. “He said ‘unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you have no life in you,’” she went on. “If that was literal, where does that leave me and the rest of Christians who don’t receive the Eucharist?”

“That’s a good question,” I offered back. “Where does that leave you?”

I can still see the look of consternation on Cecil’s face, and I could tell that she was pondering the question seriously. So seriously that she went back and reread everything the Bible has to say about the subject. Particularly compelling during that review was the fact that “many of his disciples” parted ways with Jesus over His insistence that they had to eat His flesh and drink His blood. Plus the fact that He didn’t chase after them saying: “I was speaking in parables, guys! Come back!” Instead, He upped the ante for the ones who remained, saying: “Do you also want to leave?” (John 6:67).

The shock of Christ’s teaching on the Eucharist would prove to be a hinge that turned Cecil toward the Catholic Church—a hinge that ultimately led her to enter the Church in the year 2000, where she received Holy Communion for the very first time. It was impossible to deny that Jesus meant what He said about His flesh and blood literally, or that that’s the way His disciples and the early Church understood it.

I am convinced that one of Satan’s most ingenious strategies ever was to disengage half of the Body of Christ from “the Body of Christ.” The “source and summit of the Christian life,”* the Eucharist intimately unites us to Jesus Christ, preserving, increasing and renewing the life of grace in us.* Moreover, the Eucharist strengthens us in God’s love and roots us deeply in Jesus Christ, so that when the storms of life come—and come they will—we remain steadfast in our faith. Buffeted, maybe. Shaken loose from the foundation, no.

I experienced this reality personally when my life imploded in 2008. And I saw it again recently in living color in the life of my friend Connie, whose sudden separation and impending divorce sent her whirling physically, emotionally and spiritually. I offered to go spend the weekend with her to lend support, and I was honestly fretting over what to say in the face of so much pain. It was when she asked, “How did you survive all of the things you’ve been through?” that the one and only thing that needed to be said flowed seamlessly from my lips.

“I’d be dead without the Eucharist,” I stated pointedly. And I meant it. I firmly believe that what sustained me during that intense period of crisis was the fact that I had spent twenty-five years as a daily communicant. “Make the Eucharist your life, Connie,” I advised. “Make the Eucharist your life.”

A light came on in that reminder to my friend who was trying to regain her footing, and Connie’s hardly missed a day at Mass or Adoration since. The change in her has been dramatic and noticeable, and it’s apparent that her feet are back on solid ground as she moves into an unknown future.

“Where does that leave me?” so many of us have asked in moments of great trial like death, divorce and other life shattering events. It leaves us utterly dependent on His provision for us, standing squarely on the promise that in and through the Eucharist, He remains in us, and we in Him (John 6:56).

The Eucharist is no mere symbol—it is not just “empty calories” in the smorgasbord of the spiritual life. It is life itself, Christ Himself, waiting and wanting to feed us. The Eucharist is creation, redemption and sanctification all rolled into one. It is a lifeline to the eternal which effects communion with Christ that holds us together until we, at last, are held by Him.

* Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1324

* Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1391-1392

Preparing for the End

I don’t know about you, but everywhere I turn lately, there seems to be some prophetic warning about an impending economic and social collapse coming to America. Secular financial experts are saying it. Evangelical Protestant pastors are saying it. Catholic evangelists are saying it. There appears to be a common consensus emerging from various sources that we are on the precipice of something big—a major shift in life, as we know it. More than one friend has asked me lately if I believe these warnings are true. And if so, what am I doing about it?

While I will admit that my spirit has been heavy lately about the intense moral confusion that seems to have gripped our culture, I have no idea whether or not the proverbial “doo-doo” is getting ready to hit the fan. What I do hear the Lord saying is this: Be prepared, not scared.

So what exactly does it mean to be prepared? Does it mean that we should store food, take money out of the bank, and bulk up on supplies? I believe it means that that we are to prepare spiritually for whatever comes along. And we do that by loving God with all of our hearts, by giving ourselves entirely to Him and by earnestly seeking to do His will.

While we don’t know what the future holds, we do know that life on earth has an expiration date. We should thus live each day with a lively awareness that this day may be our last; knowing that this might just be the day we meet God face to face. Such a perspective would have us ask ourselves every day whether we’re prepared for the end.

I was reminded of this truth three years ago this week, when our family went to the mountains to celebrate the birthday of my then-one-year-old grandson, John-Henry. My new husband, Mark, went with a group to hike a trail known as “The Dismal,” which is infamous for its difficult, uphill climb. As they hiked up the steep mountain, one of the men in the group, Gary, mentioned how grateful we should be to God for every day, because we don’t know if we will have tomorrow. Our hostess, Bunny, who was also hiking, chimed in that we don’t even know if we will have this afternoon. Two hours later, Gary suffered a cardiac embolism and died on the mountain in Mark’s arms. What a sobering wake up call of how quickly life can end.

I had learned that lesson four years earlier when my late husband, Bernie, suffered a massive heart attack. The morning before Christmas Eve, we were busily preparing to celebrate Christmas and welcome our first grandson into our lives. By that afternoon, Bernie lay in critical condition, and he never came home from the hospital. During the three months he spent in the I.C.U., Bernie found the secret to being prepared, which he shared with me when he woke up from a six-week coma. “I surrendered to God,” he whispered, “and I have so much peace.” He lived six more weeks before dying with no fear, because he had found love, peace and hope, the fruit of sweet surrender.

The virtue of hope, quite simply, has everything to do with placing our lives in God’s hands. Hope is about realizing that this life will be over in the blink of an eye, but that eternity with God lasts forever. Hope is about trusting God, and entrusting ourselves to Him. It’s about resting assured that even if the bottom falls out, God’s got us in His hands—hands that we can count on to carry us to safety.

One thing I’m learning is that catastrophic thinking steals hope, and that it is a major killjoy. Conversely, being present to the present moment, surrendering all to God, and trusting in His providence and love fuels hope; hope that is a meant to be a distinguishing mark of the Christian faith.

Let's get ready for the end by seeking the Lord, and by centering our lives on Him.  Anything less is a recipe for fear, which thwarts the way of hope.

Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.                       Matthew 6:33-34

Finding Christ in A Fallen World

As I watched each of the four scathing video exposés that were recently released showing Planned Parenthood officials trafficking in baby parts, the words of messianic prophecies and their fulfillment in the life of the God-man rang in my ears:

Dogs surround me,

a pack of villains encircles me;

they pierce my hands and my feet.

All my bones are on display;

people stare and gloat over me.

They divide my clothes among them

and cast lots for my garment.

Psalm 22:16-18

It can be difficult to see God in a world that seems to be increasingly inundated with darkness, shamelessly flaunting its depravity. In a world where the very words used to prophesy Christ’s coming crucifixion ring out through the mouth of an abortionist, who speaks openly about “crushing” baby parts, even as she has the gall to sip wine:

He was pierced for our offenses,

crushed for our sins.

Isaiah 53:5

I’ve racked my heart lately, asking, “Where are you, Lord? Where are You in all of this?” And then I saw Jesus. There He was in the innocent, tiny child, being gloated over and bid upon, even as lots were cast for its organs. There He was in the baby ever so carefully aborted to keep its body “intact” for profit. There He was in the boy bathed in blood and water, whose head was crowned with forceps. I looked, and I heard the words of Christ:

Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.

Matthew 25:40

“It’s a boy,” the doctor in the fourth video exclaims as though someone has given birth, even though she is rummaging through baby parts trying to find booty to sell. “Another boy!” she says almost absurdly, declaring death instead of life. And then I heard the announcement of Christ’s coming into a broken, sinful world:

You will conceive in your womb…a son.

Luke 1:31

You are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.    

Matthew 1:21

Behold the liturgy of Christ’s life and death, playing itself out over and over again in a fallen world. It’s meant to penetrate sin with grace, darkness with light, death with life—to awaken us from blindness to the mystery of God with us.

Will we let ourselves wake up to God’s presence in our midst; will we let our sight be healed that we may see? Will we receive the liberation He yearns to give us from our sins, this Jesus, who was crucified upon the Cross? Will we let His death and resurrection shatter our hardened hearts, pierce them through and bring them back to life? Redemption is entirely possible, and it will transform us if we let it.

I remember meeting Dr. Bernard Nathanson, who by his own admission performed thousands of abortions during his career, including on his own children.   Before being received into the Catholic Church in 1996, the former-atheist turned Christian wrote these words:

For the first time in my adult life, I began to entertain seriously the notion of God—a god who problematically, had led me through the proverbial circles of hell, only to show me the way to redemption and mercy through His grace…It instantly converted my past into a vile bog of sin and evil...and simultaneously—miraculously—it held out a shimmering sliver of Hope to me, in the growing belief that Someone had died for my sins and my evil two millennia ago.

God’s grace and mercy make redemption entirely conceivable, even for the most hard-bitten sinners. Remembering this truth brings a shimmering sliver of hope—a ray of light in the darkness—darkness into which the Light perpetually shines.

Finding Hope When Hope Seems Lost

 

Dear Friends,

With all of the bad news around us, could you use a good dose of HOPE?  I encourage you to watch my recent address to Legatus, which I gave on the Feast of St. Mary Magdalen.  It explains how I found hope when hope seemed lost.  Enjoy!  Please share!  Click here to watch the talk.

Praying always for God's blessings upon you and yours,

Judy

Earth to Catholics: It's Time To Change

While I normally steer away from controversial topics on this blog, I feel called to respond to the reaction to the Pope's new encyclical, "Laudato Si."  Blessings and peace to all!  

For the past week, I have noted with interest and sadness the strong negative reaction of many Catholics to Pope Francis’ new encyclical, Laudato Si. Apparently, the Pope’s call to radical conversion, not only in how we treat the Earth, but also in how we deal with the economy and our fellow human beings, has made more than a few people smoking mad. It seems to have caused a particular uproar among those who classify themselves as “conservative,” leading to name calling and accusations that Pope Francis is a “socialist,” “leftist,” or even worse, the Anti-Pope.

Last week I wrote a blog entitled, “Why I Remain Catholic,” which centered primarily on the great gift of Christ in the Eucharist. There wasn’t enough space in that blog to elaborate on the second major reason that I remain Catholic, but now seems like an opportune time to expound upon that theme. The second reason I remain Catholic is the because of the authority of the Church, which was instituted by Christ for our salvation, our protection, and our good. What a breath of liberating, expansive air it was to discover and submit to the authority that Christ established on earth to speak and act in His stead—the Magisterium of the Catholic Church, over which Pope Francis presides.

In “Why I Remain Catholic,” I mentioned that when I was a Protestant, I witnessed two church splits and an ego-showdown between pastors, all in five short years. Some of this division was over doctrine, but much of it was over money, posturing and pride. I personally experienced the unhappy result of having no one who was ultimately in charge, as well as the anarchy to which it leads, as various people with varying opinions competed for dominance in the church. Difference of opinion? Start a new church. Another conflict? Split again. Tragically, this scenario plays itself out over and over again in the Protestant world, hence the vast multitude of denominations.

When I returned to the Catholic Church, it took me a while (okay, years!) to become inculcated in a new way of thinking. That “new way” included coming to believe that a higher authority exists than my own set of opinions, my own interpretation of the Bible, or even my pastor’s interpretation of the Bible, for that matter. It also involved accepting the idea that Jesus Himself established the Catholic Church and its governing hierarchy. The “new way” then involved placing myself under submission to this authority with humility and trust, a wildly radical change for me, not to mention a profoundly counter cultural maneuver. (I was famous for saying: “I’ll never place myself under the authority of some man," echoing the sentiments of our culture.)

Embracing this uniquely Catholic way of viewing reality grounded me in something so much bigger than myself, namely two thousand plus years of history, Tradition and doctrinal consistency, along with two millennia of papal leadership which continues to this day. While it may seem like blind stupidity to place oneself under the authority of the Church, untold thousands (maybe millions) of Catholic converts and “reverts” like me have found that it is precisely this leap of faith that, paradoxically, leads not to bondage, but to freedom, joy and peace. Submission and assent are part and parcel of what it means to be Catholic, both of which are sorely lacking in the attitudes of today's Catholic pundits who claim to know more than the Pope, and in fact, more than Holy Spirit, Who guided Pope Francis' election to the papacy.

But back to the Pope’s encyclical. While an encyclical is not an infallible teaching instrument, it should nonetheless be received with an attitude of reverence, respect and assent. Furthermore, a spirit of humility toward and trust in this exercise of the Pope’s teaching authority is called for and should be expected among Catholics, instead of open dissent against the Pope, his leadership and his guidance.

When did it become vogue for Catholics to challenge every word that comes forth from the Pope’s mouth, encouraging division, rancor, and outright defiance, instead of unity, obedience and just some plain old respect?  It seems that our family pundits have been formed more by Jerry Springer and shock T.V. than by Catholic spirituality, a chief mark of which is unity. And why are people so darn angry in the first place? In short, because Pope Francis is challenging us to change. To change our way of thinking and living and consuming for a return to the simplicity of the Gospel. To change the way we treat the world and its people by ceasing to regard them merely as objects of consumption. And to change the way we interact with nature that we may again realize that we are not its lords, but its stewards. The specifics of the encyclical you may find therein. But its message in no uncertain terms calls each and every one of us to conversion—and apparently that really stings.

It reminds me of the reaction the Pharisees had to the message of Jesus, for which they crucified the Lord. It calls to mind the reaction of King Herod to the message of John the Baptist, over which Herod cut off his head. The time has come for a renewal in the fundamental attitudinal disposition of the faithful—in those who claim to be Catholic and especially in those who claim to be more Catholic than the Pope. How can we expect to evangelize and transform the secular world when we refuse to be transformed ourselves?

So what’s the bottom line? It ain’t rocket science and it ain’t about climate change. Instead, it is rather pointedly about attitude change, about personal change, about heart change. 

Earth to Catholics. It’s time to change.

Why I Remain Catholic

 

No, this isn't the Feast of Corpus Christi, but I’d like to chime in on a discussion. I want to respond to Elizabeth Scalia’s (The Anchoress, Patheos.com) challenge to present a cyberspace cloud of witnesses all answering one question: Why do I remain Catholic?

So here it is: Why do I remain Catholic?

The short answer is simple: the Eucharist. The long answer is connected to the short answer: because there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else in this life that I desire more.

Though raised Catholic, I came to a personal relationship with Christ in an evangelical Christian church in New Orleans when I was twenty-three years old. The invitation and subsequent decision to give my life to Christ was a total game-changer for me—one that radically altered the trajectory of my life. I am exceedingly grateful for the clear, concise call to conversion I received in that little evangelical church. I still maintain that we Catholics could learn a lot from our separated brethren about pure-D evangelization.

However…and there is a “however”… two church splits and an ego-showdown between pastors left me wandering around looking for a “church home.” Though I won’t tell the whole story now, suffice it to say that Our Lady grabbed hold of me and led me back to the Catholic Church, back to the family table. By the grace of God, I believed and was convinced that Jesus Christ is truly present in the Eucharist,  and there was only one thing left to do. To walk headlong with mouth and heart open to receive bread from heaven—real, living bread—His flesh for my life and the life of the world.

As an evangelical Christian, I had hung on each word that came forth from the mouth of my pastor as though my life depended on it. His sermons were my sustenance, and I gathered like a bird to its mother, wanting to feed right from its mouth. A good sermon? I’d been “fed,” and I’d come back for another. But as the division in our little church increased, the sermons withered, and I was hungry for something more.

I returned to the Catholic Church, no longer lost, but famished, thirsty, wounded. Christ nourished me with His flesh, slaked my thirst with living blood, and gave Himself over to me. Asking no money, no tithes, no payment, He came inside me, closer than I am to myself. For twenty-six years, I’ve consumed Him lavishly and freely, and I still can’t contain the awe.

I don’t pretend to understand the mystery of the Eucharist; I can hardly scratch its sublime surface. But this much I know: I’ve tasted real food and real drink, flesh and blood poured into me right from the Cross, and there is no turning back.  I’ve departed the cult of the sermon and arrived at the heavenly feast. It’s a feast to which, while dim shadows exist, there is no counterpart on earth.

Christ feeds me, feeds us,  His body formed and extended in time and space. His flesh is true food, His blood true drink; it is the life of the world.

Beauty Will Save the World

God showed up our home last night. He came through beauty, and I’m so grateful we didn’t miss Him.

God came in the form of four incredibly talented young musicians and singers, friends of my Nashville-based daughter Kara Klein, who want to transform our culture. They’re part of a new outreach called “Love Good Music,” founded by inspirational speaker and composer Jimmy Mitchell for the explicit purpose of evangelizing our culture through beauty. (See their website at lovegoodmusic.com for more information.)

I’m not sure what I expected, but what a breath of fresh, inspirational air Jacqui and Cathryn Treco, Chris Cole and Shawn Williams proved to be. Their simplicity, faith and joy blew me away, not to mention their jaw-dropping talent. While all who attended the impromptu concert were amazed by the young troupe’s musical ability, their mission is bigger and deeper than to impress others with their gifts. Their quest is to draw the hearts and minds of those present to God through beauty, standing in direct opposition to a secular culture where art forms have become increasingly vulgar, obscene and violent.

These young people understand that the human heart is hungry for the good, the true, and the beautiful. Drawing upon a foundational theme in the Catholic faith—that is, the power of beautiful art to draw men’s hearts to the transcendent—the musicians hope to inspire others through heart-piercing entertainment. Both Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI and Pope John Paul II, a classically trained pianist and a gifted actor respectively, wrote about beauty’s power to pierce hearts and point men to God. Both quoted in their own work the famous line from Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot,” which says, “Beauty will save the world.”  This is possible by reawakening man to the infinite, the transcendent, to that which calls us beyond ourselves. It happens by pointing man to the true artist and creative force behind all that is beautiful, namely God.  This is precisely what Fr. Robert Barron communicates in his immensely popular "Catholicism" series.

Thanks to the young artists who convincingly conveyed the power of beauty last night through their wholesome, delightful art. May we resurrect in our culture a prominent place for such beauty, for beauty can change the world.

Please enjoy the below video clip of Shawn Williams on violin.  Forgive me for the homemade quality of the video, as it doesn't do him justice, but you'll get an idea of his immense talent, which left us all breathless.  And enjoy the gorgeous painting by my dear friend and neighbor, Marcia Holmes, that graces our mantle, entitled "Reflective Oak." God bless!

Download clip here:  IMG_1571

Letting Go

Why is it so darn hard to let go?

My baby boy, Benjamin, who turns sixteen this September, got his first job last week at a nearby restaurant. Bedraggled and exhausted after eight straight hours on his feet bussing tables, he told me he’d barely had time to scarf down food or take a break. His feet hurt. My heart hurt. Am I crazy to cry a bucket of tears because my baby’s growing up?

He’s the child we call “well loved;” the one who was treasured and coddled endlessly by his dad and me, and all of his older siblings. He was the apple of a whole family’s eye, and we relished his happy disposition and the white, curly locks that set him apart among the rest of our children, whose looks are predominantly Latin.

I’d had it in my head we would get this one “right.” We were mature parents (for the most part) by the time Ben was born, and Bernie and I felt sure we could spare him the mistakes we’d inflicted inadvertently on our first four. We just wouldn’t do the same stupid things we'd done in the past. Besides, we were too tired to offer anything but smiles and kisses. Forget discipline. Thanks be to God Ben rarely needed it. It was all going to be love, happiness and blessings for him. Right?

Then came the big bump in the road—the unforeseen tragedy, when life, as we knew it, turned on a dime. Bernie died, and our household changed in one fell swoop from a bustling center of activity for seven busy people, to the dreadfully quiet dwelling of a single mother and frightened, fatherless nine-year-old child. Kara, Alex, Gaby and Christian left one by one—goodbye after goodbye came. Everything was different, even as I tried my best to provide some sense of safety and normalcy in our home. It didn’t always go so well.

I vividly recall the night Ben and I sat at our large, family table to have dinner alone for the first time. He had begged me to cook pork chops, a family favorite, and I had happily complied. By the time the pork chops were served, the silence in the house was pounding in my ears, proving to be more than I could take. I escaped the table to have a major fall apart in the bedroom closet, leaving the television as Ben’s only supper company—a first, since I had always been a stickler about keeping the T.V. off while we ate.

I couldn’t shield my child from the trauma and sadness of life, and it literally broke my heart. I want to shelter him now as he goes off to work, knowing he has sore feet, tired legs and a belly full of butterflies. He’s nervous about doing a good job at the restaurant; he’d rather be riding his bike and swimming with friends, caught in the painful transition between boyhood and manhood—held, too, in the crossfire of a mother’s heart that wants to keep him tucked in.

Yet I know I can’t.

The moment has arrived to let go a little, offer him up to God, nudge him toward the edge of the nest so he can learn to fly. These are the birth pangs of the push forward, and birth pangs, like delivery, hurt.

The question every mother must face is upon me: will I let go, let God and trust? Do I trust that Ben will find his own ground, and the ground of God’s heart, even if his feet hurt now? I do trust. Even in the midst of labor pains, even in the midst of knowing that manhood is coming all too fast, even as I am aware that before I blink, thirty-three years of caring for kids at home will come to a close. Breathe. Push. Just like giving birth.

Drinking Mary's Cool Aid

In honor of May, the month of Mary, and in conjunction with my live interview on Dina Marie on KBVM 88.3 in Portland this morning from 10-11 a.m. Central, I am re-posting this blog on Our Lady.  I'll be discussing Mary and Motherhood, so please join us at http://tunein.com/radio/Catholic-Radio-883-s31902/.  God bless!

Susan thought her Catholic friends had drunk the proverbial “Kool-Aid.” A staunch evangelical Christian, she was offended and angry after attending my sister-in-law Hedy’s Medjugorje Rosary group and witnessing what she considered to be “blasphemous” prayers being said to Mary. As Hedy continued to host Rosary groups, Susan felt obliged by conscience to end their friendship, convinced that Hedy was not only in idolatry, but was leading others astray through her devotion to Mary.

Susan and Hedy had become friends several years earlier through their children, as each had several kids attending the same school in the small Gulf Coast town of Pass Christian, Mississippi. The two families had grown very close—even taking family vacations together. But their friendship hit a breaking point when Susan and Hedy both became more fervent in their respective faiths, causing Susan to take a stand against Hedy’s perceived “idolatry”—a stand that left the friends and their families estranged for five years.

Eventually, Susan hit a personal faith crisis wherein she recognized that she could “talk the talk” of Christianity, but was unable to “walk the walk” toward the personal holiness she desired. After seriously reflecting upon the people that she knew who truly “walked the walk” as Christians, Susan came to the humbling conclusion that it was the Catholic women she had encountered along the way who had unequivocally treated her with kindness, patience, love and mercy. Though she still questioned their theology, she simply could not deny the fruit their lives bore.

“How could their lives be so full of the fruits of the Holy Spirit,” she asked herself, “when their faith is so theologically compromised?”   That question led her to a massive interior dilemma about the authenticity of the Catholic faith, which she felt simultaneously drawn to and terrified by. After much prayer and wrestling with God, Susan made a decision not to be led by fear. She returned to the Catholic Church, through which she had made a brief foray a few years earlier when she was confirmed Catholic upon her marriage into a large, Catholic family. (Susan was baptized Episcopal and raised as “nothing,” and her husband had ultimately followed her into Protestantism.)

Susan began to attend Mass and pray the Rosary, while going to the people she had accused of “idolatry” to apologize to them. Surprising even herself, she developed a great love for the Catholic faith, spending the next few years making beautiful handmade Rosaries “in reparation for my blasphemies against the Blessed Mother,” as she tells it.

Fast forward to 2014, when Susan called to ask me where she could buy copies of my book, Miracle Man (which happens to be very Marian, by the way. I, too, had wrestled with Hedy about her devotion to Mary at the same time as Susan—a story I tell in detail in the book. Let’s just say Hedy and the Blessed Mother won.) After meeting me on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans to buy six copies of Miracle Man, Susan gave the book to her anti-Catholic sister Elizabeth. None of us could have guessed what would happen next.

Elizabeth’s first reaction was severe annoyance at the book’s Catholic overtones and references to Mary, which she found offensive and irritating. But she pressed on to the finish, wanting to know how the story ends. By the time she closed the book, Elizabeth was weeping profusely, and she couldn’t stop crying. She went to bed perplexed, wondering why she had been so profoundly affected by the story.

During the night, she dreamt about “the most beautiful Lady” she had ever seen, who was surrounded by light and filled with a depth of love that Elizabeth had never before encountered. Elizabeth began to follow her, recognizing the Lady as the Blessed Mother. When she awoke, it was clear to her for the first time in her life why Catholics love Our Lady so much, and why she is placed in such high esteem. That story to be continued.

I can happily say that I have indeed drunk deeply of Mary, and oh, how sweet it’s been. She has led me into the heart of the fruit of her womb, Jesus. And He has led me into the heart of the fruit of His sacrifice on the Cross, the Eucharist. Food and drink like I’ve never tasted; the Bread of Angels, the Cup of Eternal Life. I’ll drink that cool, sweet aid any day.

Do Catholics Believe In Near Death Experiences?

With the immense popularity of “Heaven Is For Real” and other books about experiences in the afterlife,  the topic of Near-Death Experiences (NDEs) has taken front and center stage. Though the Catholic Church has no formal teaching on NDEs, plenty of people claim to have had one, including my late husband Bernie. The descriptions of these experiences often take on a tone of either Protestant Fundamentalism or the New Age. But Bernie’s experience was--would I dare to say--amazingly, authentically Catholic!

As a Catholic theologian who has taught the faith for fifteen years, I have never publicly addressed the topic of NDEs before. Those experiences fall into the category of what the Church calls “private” revelation—a topic I tend to stay away from when teaching Catholic doctrine. * However, Bernie’s life-changing NDE, chronicled in detail in my book Miracle Man, compelled me to share his incredible story with others. Why? Because Bernie’s “come to Jesus,” which he shared with me after miraculously waking up from a six week coma that was induced by a massive heart attack and multiple organ failure, highlighted some important truths of the Catholic faith that could use re-stating today. These include:

• We don’t get a “free pass” to heaven because we’re convinced we’re “a good person.”
• We are judged by God on the good or evil we have done in this life (Rom. 2:5-10).
• God, who loves each of us personally and infinitely, has gone and will go to great lengths to save us and bring us home to heaven.
• In the end, life and eternal life are about LOVE--and life on this earth is meant to teach us to love and be loved.

Bernie learned all of those lessons first hand during his NDE after suffering “the widow maker” in December 2008, which he inexplicably survived. Within a week of his heart attack, Bernie’s heart, liver, kidneys and lungs failed, leaving him comatose and on life support as doctors tried to save him—uncertain if he had any brain function left. Astoundingly, Bernie did an about face and began to recover, surprising his doctors and earning him the name “Miracle Man” among the hospital’s medical staff. He eventually woke up, was weaned off the ventilator and regained his ability to speak. Though still in the Intensive Care Unit, Bernie asked me one day if I wanted to hear about his Near-Death Experience.

I responded, of course, with a resounding “Yes!” Given the fact that I had prayed for his conversion for 24 long years and that I was at his bedside the night a nurse shocked his heart three times to keep him alive, I had a hunch he may have met God. But I never expected to hear what he said next.

“I died and I clearly remember it,” Bernie began.   “I saw my soul leave my body and was looking down on my body from above.” After describing in detail how he saw the condition of his soul, as well as the things he had done in his life that were pleasing and unpleasing to God, Bernie shared this zinger: “Judy, I followed the light all of the way to heaven. And when I got there, I wasn’t permitted to enter.” That from a man who steadfastly maintained that he was sure he was going to heaven because he was a “good person.”

Bernie was then sent back by God to make amends for his life, but not before meeting terrifying creatures that beat him brutally as they screamed in his ears repeatedly, “We’re here to help you!!!”  You’ll have to read the book to find out how the story ends (it’s nothing short of amazing), but suffice it for now to say that Bernie was a changed man after his NDE. So much so that he spent the last six weeks of his life telling me, “You have no idea how much God loves you…You have absolutely no idea how much God loves you!”

Because in spite of seeing his own inner darkness and his need for conversion and purification, Bernie’s overarching experience of his encounter with God was one of unfathomable love. Love that died on the Cross for his sins. Love that chased him down to beckon him into a relationship with Himself. And Love that waited to embrace him and welcome him home with the words, “You are my beloved son. In you I am well pleased.”

In the end, what matters most about “private” revelations like NDEs is the fruit they produce. In other words, they can be considered authentic insofar as they help us to “live more fully” by “Christ’s definitive revelation” (CCC par. 67). Christ revealed that God is love, and that Love holds us accountable for our lives and for our actions. Though those two statements seem contradictory in today’s world, they nonetheless contain the age-old truth of Christianity. That’s the truth Bernie discovered when he met God. And it’s the truth that would ultimately transform him and lead him to eternal life.

*(See the Catechism of the Catholic Church,  Par. 67 for the Church’s teaching on “private” revelation.)