From thinking like a Catholic lawyer to a Catholic theologian
For those of us who grew up attending Catholic school, our journey with the faith began by learning simple prayers and rules. For any second grader, it’s an accomplishment to know the commandments, the precepts of the Church, and to be able to recite prayers every night before going to bed. That is an important foundation.
But to start thinking like a theologian, you have to also learn to contemplate the mystery of God. To meditate on his vast creativity, and how he made each and every one of us in his image and likeness. If we’re thinking like a chef, we are like fresh produce carefully cultivated and picked in order to make a five star meal. God does not make mistakes.
Back to Tradition: The Theology of Fewer Pews
Yes, the Latin Mass is beautiful. But can it be replicated in the modern day and still capture all of the essential Eucharistic theology it once had?
The Pope’s new teaching. Explained in plain English.
What is this new document?
About five months into his new role as pope, Leo XIV, issued his first official teaching document called Dilexi Te (Latin for “I Have Loved You”). The pope has deemed this an apostolic exhortation, meaning it is an letter to all Catholics and their leaders about the heart of their faith. The title of the document comes from the 3rd chapter of Revelations, where Christ is speaking to a particular Christian community in modern day Turkey/Türkiye. That community could not use arguments, logic, power, or money to bash other people—and Christ affirms his love for them.
The pope’s new letter is about poverty and people who are struggling, but it's not a call for a new charity drive. It’s a theological letter so it goes much deeper than just rules or duties and instead tries to teach us something new about who God really is. The full document on the Vatican’s website is linked HERE. Wherever you see [DT] in this article it references Dilexi Te and the paragraph number.
Why does this matter to me?
On every episode of the podcast, you’ll hear us say “Tell your stories.” That’s because you were made in the Image of God and for whatever reason your local parish may refuse to get to know you, there is something about Christ that they will not learn until they hear your story.
Even though the letter doesn't mention LGBT individuals, its main argument applies directly to them (and anyone who feels unwanted). The document teaches that the Church must learn from them.
This document addresses that head on.
The main message of this new document: If we want to understand Jesus beyond what a textbook might tell us, we have to be close (friendship) with the people in society who feel rejected, who thirst, who are imprisoned [DT 110]. In the Gospel of John, we reflect on what it means for God to become flesh (man). What did he experience that we cannot understand by ourselves? And what does it teach us about the very nature of Jesus.
This isn’t Marxist or Socialist or American Liberal and it does not romanticize being poor. It asks each one of us to confront what it is we cannot understand about God simply by ourselves. And then it tells us to go be friends with them. Wherever people are frail, sick, injured, poor, homeless…there is a mysterious bit of wisdom they possess that forces the healthy and rich to understand that no textbook or bank account can teach. That is the nature of Christian revelation.
Those who live on the streets have a perspective about survival that is very difficult to understand unless you get to know them. I think of my friend Sylvia who lived at 24th and K NW in Washington DC for many years. She checked on her fellow friends every day, and in the process taught me something deeper about human dignity. And she is a clear reminder that no one is too poor to be a protagonist (main character) for their own life and others too.
There has always been, and always will be poverty.
But the theological landscape (the current conditions we live and how we can understand God in the current times) are very different from even a few hundred years ago.
Let’s time travel and compare it to the modern age.
1600 Antwerp, Spanish Netherlands (Belgium)
Main Issue: Survival and a “good death”
· Belief in God: Most people were Catholic, and just about everyone believed in God. Catholic communities easily stick together.
· Response to fears: Church bells would ring during storms to invoke spiritual protection. People would give to the poor to gain their favor, as the Church taught that poverty is where the mercy of God shows himself.
· Community: The Catholic Church organized society. There were no pews in the parish because the church wasn’t just for Mass, it was also a gathering spot, school, and community center.
· Social bonds: People generally had to stick together in order to overcome famine, illness, etc.
Compare that to…
2025 Arlington, Virginia USA
Main issue: loneliness, isolation. Christian community no longer forms as a default social group, and we become more defensive and argumentative to “win people over.”
· Belief in God: 34% attend a church, 15% Catholic (according to US Religion Census 2020). Many denominations to choose from.
· Response to fears: Pharmacies, cleaning supplies, police officers in schools. [No foreign invasions/war locally]
· Community: No single organizer. Arlington county government, policing, resources. Schools, civic groups, and churches.
· Social bonds: Online friendships, less time together. Single family homes and apartment units with little interaction between neighbors.
This is not the first time there has been a major shift in the way the world organizes itself. Sometimes the way we speak and think about ourselves has to change if it wants to continue being believable. For example, for many centuries the Christians saw martyrdom as the best way to be a good Catholic. But by the time Saint Francis of Assisi came around (1300s) everyone was Catholic and few (if any) people were dying for their faith in Europe. How could we become the best if no one was willing to kill us?
Saint Francis realized that the theological landscape is different. People are moving away from their farms and into the cities, where disease and indifference made reality very cold and distant. In the document, Pope Leo talks about how he and others brought about renewal of the Christian faith through founding “orders, such as the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians and Carmelites, represented an evangelical revolution, in which a simple and poor lifestyle became a prophetic sign for mission, reviving the experience of the first Christian community (cf. Acts 4:32). The witness of the mendicants challenged both clerical opulence and the coldness of urban society.” [DT 63]
“Francis’ poverty was relational: it led him to become neighbor, equal to, or indeed lesser than others. His holiness sprang from the conviction that Christ can only be truly received by giving oneself generously to one’s brothers and sisters.” [DT 64]
Is this phenomenon happening again?
Ask yourself, are we once again moving away from one another and becoming distant and cold in society? Is social media offering us a window to see the differences of others as the dignity of Christ teaching us, or is it something for us to judge hiding behind the safety of a phone or computer?
What are the lessons Dilexi Te offers?
There are three lessons for those who want to go deeper in Christ in this modern age.
· 1. We can't renew the Church with a book. Simply teaching rules (doctrine) and praying isn't enough; we need real-world Christian relationships with others, and that no longer happens naturally without a lot of effort. [DT 112]
· 2. We cannot leave it up to the market. We cannot simply put money in a basket and walk away -- we have to live the relationships that Christ entrusted to us. Present, in person, and sometimes uncomfortable. [DT 113]
· 3. We can't just minister to the powerful. Those who are poorer than us are actually teaching us about Jesus (the Word who became flesh). The less we spend time with them, as friends and equals, the less we can truly impact the world. [DT 114]
I’ll leave you with this quote from the document:
Saint Gregory of Nazianzus concluded one of his celebrated orations with these words: “If you think that I have something to say, servants of Christ, his brethren and co-heirs, let us visit Christ whenever we may; let us care for him, feed him, clothe him, welcome him, honor him, not only at a meal, as some have done, or by anointing him, as Mary did, or only by lending him a tomb, like Joseph of Arimathea, or by arranging for his burial, like Nicodemus, who loved Christ half-heartedly, or by giving him gold, frankincense and myrrh, like the Magi before all these others. The Lord of all asks for mercy, not sacrifice... Let us then show him mercy in the persons of the poor and those who today are lying on the ground, so that when we come to leave this world they may receive us into everlasting dwelling places.” [DT 118]
Mercy as both the inferior and superior place. But always learning.
It’s incredible how such a core concept of Catholic theology can still be a serious subject of division. How can one know Jesus Christ without first knowing what mercy means? Maybe we think we do mean it. But do we make it too personal, too much about the self and a place of righteousness? Cardinal Walter Kasper noted in his 2014 book Mercy that this topic is almost criminally neglected in theological textbooks. It leaves our seminaries and our parishes with a void, one that is frequently filled by opposing and painful interpretations of what it means to GIVE mercy.
Moral theologian: When the Risen One manifests himself, he does so without any spirit of revenge
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Now, the very experience of the first witnesses reminds us that the joy of the resurrection is not accessed in a straightforward, linear way. In fact, from the accounts of the appearances, we can glimpse a kind of common thread that links all these narratives: the rejection of spectacle. The Risen Lord, in fact, does not choose to manifest himself to everyone in a clamorous and convincing way. His presence is not imposed. On the contrary, he reveals himself with extreme discretion, almost with modesty, and only to a few. He lets himself be recognized through simple, almost negligible signs: the bandages left in the tomb, the heart that burns along the way, the net full of fish, the testimony of the women. In short, the presence of the Risen One is extremely discreet.
The following is reprinted with author permission. Fr. Diego Puricelli is a professor of moral theology and a priest of the Diocese of Belluno-Feltre.
“Now, the very experience of the first witnesses reminds us that the joy of the resurrection is not accessed in a straightforward, linear way. In fact, from the accounts of the appearances, we can glimpse a kind of common thread that links all these narratives: the rejection of spectacle. The Risen Lord, in fact, does not choose to manifest himself to everyone in a clamorous and convincing way. His presence is not imposed. On the contrary, he reveals himself with extreme discretion, almost with modesty, and only to a few. He lets himself be recognized through simple, almost negligible signs: the bandages left in the tomb, the heart that burns along the way, the net full of fish, the testimony of the women. In short, the presence of the Risen One is extremely discreet.
What's more, when the Risen One manifests himself, he does so without any spirit of revenge, but rather offers—as in John's account—the signs of a freely lived love: "the hands and the side." No reproach, no preaching, no petty remarks. The gestures of the Risen One are so essential that they cannot be misunderstood: “Peace be with you! Receive the Holy Spirit.”
Thus, the resurrection manifests itself in the community of believers: as a relief from one's own sin and a liberation from one's own fears. The Risen One, in fact, knows well the poverty of his church, but he also knows that in this weak and fragile humanity lies the mysterious strength of authentic witness. After all, it is true: only those who have known their own limits, only those who have experienced their own sin, can become authentic guardians of God's forgiveness, without falling into idealism and without fleeing the truth of life (how many times, instead, do we think the opposite, that God wants us to be perfect... and we don't accept our failings, we don't forgive ourselves...).
From this first expansion of life and joy, Thomas, the disciple who best of all embodies our struggle to immediately commit to a renewal of life, is initially excluded.
How many times do we, like Thomas, not believe the announcements of hope and new life that the Lord gives us, ending up remaining isolated, on our own, licking our wounds. It's true. As the then-Cardinal Bergoglio wrote back in 2005, in a wonderful little book titled "Healing from Corruption," "a painful journey always demoralizes, having experienced defeats leads the human heart to get used to them, so as not to be surprised or suffer again if others come."
Yet, in Thomas, there is something that betrays his desire to access a new relationship with his Lord. In fact, eight days later, Thomas is still there, with the group of disciples. He hasn't gone away, disappointed and upset. Thomas had the courage to disobey the protests of his wounded heart, choosing to bring his own pain closer to the hope of his brothers.
Only then does the Lord finally appear to him, to introduce him as well into the mystery of his pierced and risen love: "Put your finger here and see my hands; stretch out your hand and put it into my side; and do not be unbelieving, but believing!” Indeed, one never enters the joy of the resurrection alone, set apart, but always and only together with others, together with our brothers and sisters in faith.
Today, we too are called to live our journey of faith like Thomas. I think there is no more beautiful icon! Men and women of doubt, uncertain, wounded, but at the same time capable of confident surrender, of remaining despite everything, even when things around us often say the opposite.
In this journey, we are not alone: the Risen One walks beside us, draws near precisely where our hands tremble and our hearts close. It is He who, with the gentle strength of his wounds, gathers our questions, sustains our weariness, and transfigures our pain.
And so, truly blessed are we if we have the courage to remain: because he who remains, even in the darkness, will see the light; and he who trusts, even without seeing, will enter into endless joy!”
End post! This post has been freely shared with written permission of the author.
Getting Unstuck: Advancing Aquinas, Conflict Analysis, and Complex Moral Theology
In my past life, working in foreign affairs and politics, I learned a simple but profound rule: people are rarely fighting about what they tell you they are fighting about. This is excellent advice for any aspiring diplomat but also for spiritual advisors.
We tend to tell other people what we want them to hear. And in defending ourselves against accusations of doing something unjust we especially cling to appealing reasons that conveniently help us cover up our own shortcomings.
The Church will have an ever-growing number of individuals who have broken Church law (like a couple using IVF to conceive) or who have made the difficult life decisions to get remarried after a divorce. And for those who have found positivity and stability in their choices, we are increasingly having difficulty explaining why the Church cannot walk the journey with them.
When People Say “Take Up Your Cross” - Helping Catholics Reclaim the Truth of its Meaning
I’m writing this from the bayous of Cajun country in Louisiana. As a former French colony, there are still some small rural areas where upward of 20% speak Cajun at home. Having religion and being Catholic are the same thing here. They even call the county government a “parish” owing back to the time when the Church was the main organizer of society and culture.
On this trip, I learned about Charlene Richard (pronounced REE-chard), the tragic and heroic story of a cheerful 12 year old girl who died of Leukemia in 1959. When she learned of her fate, she didn’t just endure her suffering; she joyfully accepted it and offered it for the sake of others. They call her the “Little Cajun Saint” and Catholics here have a devotion to her. But the context of her story is often lost in a modern world where we can sometimes tell people to embrace their suffering as a way to make THEM more holy, not us.
For those of us who are LGBT or divorced and remarried Catholics, the phrase “take up your cross” has been both harmlessly cast upon us and occasionally weaponized by those that want to keep the parish pews pure. You can experience gay thoughts as long as you keep them secret and hidden. The modern approach to suffering for its own sake treats it like a virtue. Unfortunately, this simple reading is a profound departure from Catholic tradition. It treats the cross as a prison, not as a path to the fullness of life.
Moral theology and the drive to be the best in my (Catholic) community
The desire to be a “good Catholic” is one that we all know. It’s a tug from deep within reflecting an increasingly isolated world that craves a deeper connection with faith and their fellow man. But what happens when this desire transforms into a subtle and complicated ambition—the desire to be seen as a great Catholic. Is it selfish? Or is it a misguided determination to thrive within a community that also happens to be Catholic.
The Tragedy of Good Intentions. When Saints Unknowingly Place Discipline over Mission.
If you had lived in London in 1514, a few years before Martin Luther even made it into the news, you would have been keenly aware that the Church’s structural and political powers were cracking. And in part it was accelerated by a man we would go on to proclaim a saint—Thomas More.
He remains an inspirational saint to me. Someone I think we should continue to pray to for intercession. He was a loyal, obedient son to the Church and clearly a close disciple of Jesus Christ. But if we had the opportunity to interview the saint in this day and age, I can’t help but wonder if he would rethink some of his decisions.
Acting a Fool. Luke 12 and when we rely on rules to solve spiritual crises
This Sunday, we'll hear the Gospel reading from Luke 12 where someone demands Jesus instruct his brother to share an inheritance. Imagine yourself in that situation. At the time, the firstborn was entitled to a greater proportion of inherited wealth—typically land—in line with their responsibilities to protect and preserve the family's well-being. Similarly, everything within Catholic Canon Law aims for the good of souls.
Just as many of us are accustomed to seeking a priest's advice when life gets difficult, a rabbi would have been the perfect person to help settle a family dispute during Jesus' time. So, imagine the surprise when Jesus replied, "Friend, who appointed me as your judge and arbitrator?"
Catholics online. How we’ve become just like the scene at the Last Supper.
In this blog post, we’ll explore two contrasting cultures presented in the Gospel, the love of winning arguments (philonikia) and the pursuit of hospitality (philoxenia).
Learning to speak the languages of the Holy Spirit
When we imagine the Pentecost scene from the Acts of the Apostles, it often feels magical, as if the Holy Spirit implanted a divine translation device. Yet, the true "languages" of the 21st century are found in the suffering of others—poverty, pain, and exhaustion—which, when truly seen, allow us to speak the Holy Spirit's languages of consolation and un
“While the world turns, the Cross stands firm.” But speaking to the modern world.
“While the world turns, the Cross stands firm.” It’s a quote we attribute to Saint Bruno, who lived
more than 900 years ago in Europe at the peak of Christendom. It has become a popular
phrase among Catholics, who understandably want to stand proud and defiant against a culture
that has seemingly forgotten our importance in the modern world. And while Saint Bruno likely
would agree, the quote goes back to his desire to create Christian encounters that were lacking
for his day.
Aside from the fact that the people of Bruno’s day understood the world to be flat– the revolving
world does not refer to a globe– the turning refers to the problem of Christendom where
Catholics would fight against one another for their brand of Catholicism, their influence over the
Church, and their national representatives of Catholicism to sit in Peter’s throne. Saint Bruno
was reflecting on a unity and virtue problem, not a tradition problem.
Why we say Unwanted and not Marginalized
First, thank you so much for your support of this project. Your subscription to the blog helps make the podcast possible and will also support the upcoming book with Paulist Press.
When I began putting this project together more than two years ago, a lot of people commented they were happy someone was working with Catholics on the margins. To a degree, they were correct, but it didn’t fully sit right with me.
Being "marginalized" is a wonky academic term. It’s almost impersonal. If someone says they are marginalized, they’re probably asking for a structural or political change. For example, if someone is handicapped, we can and should build a wheelchair ramp. But does that make them feel wanted?