NB: I wrote this several months ago, but it continues to capture some of my feelings about recent goings on.

Dear Church,

I don’t like to feel like a Complainer, because a Complainer is about the worst thing anyone can be.

Complainers are politely dismissed, rarely listened to, and only accepted if they Change Their Ways and focus on The Positives. Regardless of whether their concerns — er, Complaints — are justified.

I’m sure this social conditioning has a purpose. After all, any human community can thrive only when its members are positively disposed toward working together, as a community. It’s the point of being community. I get it.

And honestly, who WANTS to dwell on the negatives? It’s depressing.

But, Church, you told me that you were the Keeper of the Word, the Keys to the Kingdom, the Barque of Peter that is headed toward the Pearly Gates and interested in taking as many souls with it who are willing. And now I am questioning whether that glowing Positive Course is even true…or whether YOU even believe it is true.

Some of us were born on board this Ship, others boarded at many ports along the way. We’ve been on board for a long time. Long enough to experience many crews and hands. Long enough to have realized that not everyone on board is (yet) a saint.

One of the hardest things to deal with on this long voyage is watching fellow members decide to jump ship. Some of them, sure, make reasoned decisions to disembark at a port along the way and discontinue the journey. We miss them, especially we who have begged them to stay. Some can’t even wait for port. They decide to try their luck in the sea. The grief is worst for those.

There are others, though, who don’t *want* to disembark, but who are so miserable that they try to stay on board, but barely. Maybe they are hiding in a lifeboat thinking about cutting the line. Maybe they are hiding somewhere on board, in the cargo hold or far below deck, where they are unlikely to run into Crew members who have turned out to be violent or unstable or unable to keep their hands to themselves. Maybe they think, “If I could just get off this ship with *something* that floats, I could still ride in the wake and follow the ship to shore without having to stay in this mess.

You see, they still believe the overall Course of the Ship. They just have given up hope that they can be fully functional members of the society on board the ship and that mere survival requires distance.

Now, you would think that the Captain and Crew of a ship that believed in its Course and desired to get as many people to the destination as possible would actively be checking in with its passengers, ensuring they had what they needed for their journey.

If abuse, for example, were prevalent on the ship, who would want to stay? Would it not make sense to throw the abusers in the hold and boot them off the ship at the next port? If there were individuals on board who had never learned to live in community, would it not make sense to instruct them in some best practices? If there were folks who needed a bit of extra support and care, would it not make sense to minister to their needs in a special way?

I can tell you, if I noticed that the ship’s Captain and Crew seemed less and less interested in the people on board — especially the suffering — and more and more interested in stopping by any port or island where there was a promise of Treasure….if I noticed that the Crew was spending more and more time pursuing their Own Pursuits and dismissing the stated needs of their passengers, or even the care of the Ship…if I noticed that at every port the Crew was taking on more hands who seemed to prefer expeditions that steered the ship off its course…I would begin to lose faith in the Captain and Crew of that ship.

Let me speak bluntly, now. Because I think you can see where I’m going with this.

The Church is hurting. Individuals and families on the Ship are suffering. Many of them are overwhelmed by real need, real disease, real abuse, real sadness and debilitating despair. Real sin.

There are women in “Good Catholic Families” who are afraid to deny their husbands sex because they know their husbands are sorely tempted or addicted to pornography. Or because their husbands give them zero attention outside of the bedroom.

There are children in “Good Catholic Families” who are addicted to devices because their moms are always “doing God’s work” and are too busy to spend time with them.

There are couples trying to adapt to Christian Marriage without support for the “sick times” that come on all too quickly. There are other couples whose marriages should have been stopped before they even got started…had those in charge of their formation taken their role seriously or been willing to Say Something when they Saw Something.

There are individuals whose mental health struggles keep them at arm’s length from participating in the Good Life of the rest of the community. They are lonely, broken, and sad, but no one seems to want to or know how to listen to them.

There are victims of sexual, emotional, physical and even spiritual abuse who are literally hanging onto the side of the ship, teetering on the verge of letting go. They can’t wrap their minds around how this ship, that promised to carry them to Salvation, has no remedy for them and struggles even to acknowledge them. They watch their abusers, in the meantime, be promoted up the ranks or participate in all the perks of being a passenger, with none but the victim the wiser.

There are one-time Crew members who passionately sought to support their fellow travelers and desired to implement programs and community events that would reach some of these wounded and broken passengers but were told by the Captain that this was not their duty and that, because they couldn’t control their zeal, their services were no longer needed.

There are others who noticed criminal behavior of high-ranking Crew members and were silenced with threats of violence…or worse, were tossed overboard in the middle of the night.

Many of the longtime, committed passengers have appealed to the Captain and the Crew, relentlessly. Some have simply given up, finding no quarter for their heartfelt concerns. Some have even banded together, without the Crew’s blessing or involvement, to try to resolve some of their issues, and have ended up creating more problems and have brought down the ire of the Captain, facing strict rations and even confinement. In the name of Unity.

Even “good” Crew members who seem to have a modicum of concern for the plight of the passengers seem to prefer pat answers and trite responses rather than to really engage in meaningful knowing and community with their passengers. In fact, the more challenging the circumstance, the more likely the Crew members are to resort to spiritual platitudes that offer little real hope of redemption. And then, they avoid future interactions with those passengers whenever possible.

I don’t want to be a Complainer. But it is almost as if the Crew has lost faith in the Course itself and believes, perhaps, this sordid squalor is really All There Is.

And if it is true that the Captain and Crew are wondering if the Course is worthwhile, then perhaps all of the side excursions make sense. Perhaps it makes sense why the Crew seem to be recruiting hands who do nothing for the passengers but make the Crew’s lives more pleasant and fulfilling, even if that fulfillment is only in the form of base pleasure and the revelry of the moment.

Or perhaps it makes sense why the Captain and Crew are bartering at ports in ways that curry the favor of the ruling bodies there, picking up Causes and Activities that seem to have political benefit more for those bodies than for the Ship’s passengers and Course.

For the passengers still yearning, and hoping against all hope that the Course will prove True and the ship will carry them to that destination — *especially* those whose hope has been strained by abuse or who feel unseen and unheard in their struggles — it feels like a punch in the gut to hear the Captain of the Ship announce that the Course is not, in fact, what they thought it was, and that instead a new direction will be charted. To watch the Crew no longer simply ignore, but actively hunt down passengers who have been on board for years and force them off the ship via ultimatums that they cannot accept nor understand breeds horror. To watch the Captain announce that primacy of place will be given to passengers who openly revile the values so many on the ship have been striving for, however imperfectly, and put Crew members in place who openly sneer at — or who even caused — the struggles so many existing passengers face is too much to bear.

A Church that struggles to support the people who are trying to stay on the boat and are falling off the sides should not be pushing those people away and letting them drown while they send out lifeboats to the people calling for mutiny and seeking to change the ship’s direction.

Unless, of course, the Church has lost faith in its own Course.

Spoiler alert! You may want to watch Guardians of the Galaxy 2 before reading this post.

The nostalgia was palpable as the movie began — a guy and a girl, laughing, singing, embracing, sharing hopes and dreams of the future. A storybook romance.

Fast forward to the revelation of a painful void created by the absence of a father, the loss of a mother. A son’s uncertain identity, and all the reservations and questions that come with it.

Then, the unimaginable happens — the father appears, and reveals that the son’s life is the product of true love — a beautiful, meaningful gift. Embellished, even, by the depiction of a baby in utero, growing under the loving embrace of a father and a mother.

I knew at that moment that a twist was inevitable. There was no doubt. It was all too “good” to be true.

Enter the plunge into the modern world’s despair.

The beauty and grandeur of the father’s home, his grace and charm, his warmth and his care were revealed as an illusion. What had appeared to be an outward-focused benevolence, a desire for union and communion for the good of the other, were shown to be a selfish, unrestrained passion. The singular devotion for one woman was a sham; she was just one of many partners who had bought his line. His progeny were begotten purely for his own fulfillment — they were of no value in and of themselves. No one was above being discarded once their purpose had been exhausted.

Guardians grabbed our hearts with nostalgia, and crushed them with reality.

The nod to old-fashioned family values, the organic process of creating life, the father-son bond — it seemed so unbelievable because, to our modern world, it is unbelievable. Millions of people today have no idea what a nuclear family is actually like. Marriage ‘till death do us part seems like a pipe dream. Embryos are being pieced together in petri dishes, purportedly sometimes with more than two parents. Wombs are being bought and sold (and soon, perhaps, artificially provided), sperm donors are carefully selected for the perfect genes, and frozen “left-overs” are being crystallized into jewelry and keepsakes — all for a price. Many of the children who are “lucky” enough to be born of the “love” of a man and woman find themselves unwanted, uncared for, and left to their own devices, or tossed about in the wake of divorce or separation. Some even find themselves literally being sold in human trafficking by people they thought would give them the attention or protection they craved.

Guardians gives us a great cross-section of today’s population: The cocky hero with the absentee father who struggles with insecurity under his confidence and pride. The emotionally chilled lead heroine who fought her way to the top and isn’t about to let any man crack her tough exterior. The horrifically abused underdog who’s trapped, understandably, in her need for vengeance. The socially oblivious, honest-to-a-fault strongman who everyone likes to have around because he’s just so quirky. The meek, subservient female character who has only ever been told that her value is what she can do for someone else. The scrappy thief who feels like he’s always been “bad” and isn’t quite sure if he’ll ever be able to make himself “right.” And a genetically modified non-raccoon who is quick to deal out insults as a cover for his vulnerability, his wounds rooted in his creators’ lack of personal care.

Oh, and there’s the adorable Baby Groot. I’ll come back to him in a moment.

Violence, abuse, neglect, impossible standards, betrayal, abandonment, use. These are the realities of the modern world. The Guardians are the heroes du jour — resilient outcasts who will make a way against all odds. And this second installment brought into focus just how enormous the odds are.

It used to be, I believe, that our collective hope in old-fashioned values was kept alive by beacons of light — people who appeared to be living in upright, morally virtuous ways. Couples who seemed to have enviable relationships of 50, 60 years or more. Individuals whose public personas exuded extraordinary generosity and kindness. Who appeared to keep their promises. Leaders who we thought stood on principle and fought for what was right.

Historical fiction and popular entertainment boasted heroes who were unflappable in their fight for justice. Teachers, priests, and coaches pushed us to grow, and encouraged us to become better, stronger — and we perceived them to have precisely the virtues they aimed to cultivate in us.

But, like Ego’s planet, the inspirational beauty of those old tales has been shown to be rotten at its core — if not in truth, then in perception. And today, perception matters more.

In our world, spouses aren’t faithful. Parents don’t stick together. Neighbors don’t watch out for each other. Priests, teachers and coaches can’t be trusted — too many have abused children. Government leaders are corrupt. Heroes are conflicted, and some villains may not be so bad after all. Everyone is broken, and the old values — well, we’re not sure anyone ever really lived them out to begin with. So now we’re kind of making it up as we go along.

On the one hand, that frees us from the harsh judgment of the past — it promotes empathy and understanding. Everyone has a seat at the table. Anyone can “belong.”

On the other, there seems to be a pervasive confusion about what things are “right” and “wrong,” to the point where almost every type of behavior seems justifiable to some degree.

In any case, it is clear that the old order of union and communion doesn’t apply anymore, and must be replaced with something much more inclusive.

In that vein, Guardians 2 argues that “family,” in its traditional sense, is dead.

The message resonates powerfully with the modern person because it speaks to the lack we experience. It even attempts to provide a common-sense substitute — “friends are family,” it reiterates, over and over again. And for many, this rings absolutely true. And necessary for survival.

But you know what’s interesting?

They can’t let go of family altogether.

Enter Groot, dancing and joyfully oblivious to the violence around him. Being sheltered. Yawning and laying his head upon Drax’s shoulder.

The child still exists. And the child is the sign of hope.

Fidelity, true love, acceptance, affirmation, protection when we are vulnerable — we all ache for these. In the one place where these are first possible for us — our biological familial relationships — our hopes are often dashed. We are repeatedly, sometimes cruelly, let down. We are abandoned by those who are supposed to love us most. We learn to earn these things. We put up with all kinds of use and abuse seeking these things.

Sometimes, we even harden our hearts, afraid that on the other side of possibility lurks even more rejection, more use, more hurt.

But, if we are perceptive enough, the innocence and dependence of a child reminds us

-We were and are worthy of love.

-We were and are worthy of care.

-It is an injustice for a child to be abandoned, neglected, abused, bought and sold.

We do want better for future generations.

There’s no doubt that Guardians is speaking to the heart of a world that has lost hope in the traditional idea of “family.” That despair is pervasive, even as we watch the characters struggle toward some semblance of healing.

But even as the film advocates for a re-definition of family, even as the characters come to terms with the fact that their parents, creators and caregivers have failed them in many ways, the presence of a child calls forth the hope that for this one things can be different. For this one I can make a positive difference.

May the presence of children always do the same for us. May we see in it a spark of hope that family is not dead — and strive to do what we can so that tomorrow’s children can know the fathers and mothers that they deserve.

Last spring a lovely group of ladies joined me in the Endow study “Setting the World Ablaze: St. Catherine of Siena.” (Never done one? Check them out!)

One of the things I find charming about Endow studies is how different aspects of the study — sometimes the words on the page, sometimes the discussions that they prompt — smack me upside the head at just the right time. Those messages stick with me and continue to challenge me long after the study is over.

And sometimes saints just stalk me. Ask me about St. Anthony of Padua. Or the kissing saints.

I’m convinced it’s a coordinated effort to save my soul. Seriously. Life’s full of distractions, and God knows I need reminders about the Important Things. So he sends in special agents — like friends, family, random strangers, or even sometimes a 14th-century doctor of the Church whose body is in Rome and whose head and thumb are in Siena — to bring me back around.

As I was flipping through a travel book from my honeymoon shortly after the Endow study was over, out fell these prayer cards from St. Catherine’s tomb at the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome.

I’m not sure whether my husband and I picked them up on our honeymoon in 2009 or if he picked them up during a previous trip to Rome. All I can say is that, true to form, St. Catherine is one persistent woman. At minimum, six years had passed before I happened to flip open that travel book, and it just happened to coincide with the end of the Endow study.

Finding the prayer cards caused me to reflect again on a particularly memorable quote from the study. In the following message from The Dialogue, God responded to St. Catherine’s request for guidance on pursuing perfection in charity in a broken world:

So if you would attain the purity you ask of me, there are three principal things you must do:

You must be united with Me in loving affection, bearing in your memory the blessings you have received from Me;

With the eye of your understanding you must see my affectionate charity, how unspeakably much I love you;

And where the human heart is concerned, you must consider my will rather than people’s evil intentions, for I am their judge — not you;

If you do this, all perfection will be yours.

(pp. 191-192 of The Dialogue, translated by Suzanne Noffke, O.P.)

Need a New Year’s resolution, anyone?

Oh, and if there is one thing I learned from the Endow study, it’s that Grandma’s arm twisting has nothing on this woman. If you’re being stalked by St. Catherine, be prepared to hear from her, even when you’d rather be left alone in your errant or cowardly ways.

She was known to be especially persistent in reaching out to and encouraging her spiritual children who were struggling. Sometimes this took the form of calling a disciple away from worldly pursuits, with copious reminders of her maternal affection; other times this meant calling a pope to “be a man” instead of a cowardly boy in the face of political pressure.

I can’t say that I enjoy being stalked by saints. It’s really uncomfortable to have your soul pricked where it most hurts. I just hope that in the end I’ll be able (to paraphrase St. Catherine) to bear it in memory as a blessing from a loving Father.

Some honeymoon photos of St. Catherine’s hometown, Siena:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.