Sposi Novelli: How we met the Pope

Well friends, we did it. We met Pope Francis. We talked to him, held his hands, and even got his personal blessing on our brand-new marriage.

Here's how we stumbled our way into this chance of a lifetime.

I was in Candida's class as a college sophomore, and on the first day, we all had to go around the room and give an interesting fact about ourselves. I'll never forget Candida's fun fact.

"I got married in England this summer," she said, "and the pope personally blessed my wedding."

Stop the presses. Was she serious?! I couldn't wait for class to be over to ask her a million questions.

Sure enough, she had met the pope (Benedict at the time) and she'd worn her pretty white wedding dress with all the other brides. She said, "Any Catholic newlyweds can do it!"

That was the first time I'd ever heard of the Sposi Novelli program. I vowed to do the same thing when I got married.

And five years later, I did.

In spite of that, we call this Friday good

"The dripping blood our only drink, / The bloody flesh our only food: / In spite of which we like to think / That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood— / Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good." — T.S. Eliot

Last night before I left work in the evening, I signed in to check Facebook, and I saw that someone had posted a link to this article about the Holy Father's visit to a juvenile detention center for Holy Thursday Mass.

I read that one of the inmates, an orphan, said on hearing the news, "At last I shall get to meet someone who says he is my father!"

I read that yesterday, the Holy Father washed the feet of twelve inmates and kissed their feet when he finished.

Can you imagine the backgrounds some of these kids have—to be in prison as a minor? I can't imagine what they've gone through and how much they've suffered.

And as I read about the Holy Father's act of love, sitting there at my desk, I started to cry.

I mean, he's the pope, the head of the world's largest church. And there he is, bowing down in all gentleness and humility, to give love to people in the lowest rung of society.

I thought about Our Lord sitting down for dinner with publicans and prostitutes, and I thought, That's what love looks like. That's what Christ looks like.

For the first time in a while, I really stopped and thought about what that meant. Christ loves us. He loves us so much he died for us—I can hardly wrap my mind around what that means.

I thought of that line from one of my favorite hymns: "I will break their hearts of stone—give them hearts for love alone."

I thought about the complete and total, utterly unselfish love Pope Francis showed, in imitation of Christ.

I wondered if I could ever love like that. Give like that. Judge no one and instead make myself the first to give compassion, and the last to ask anything for myself. I know I'm so far from that, but my love for the Holy Father and admiration for his Christlike charity inspired me. I mean, before Pope Francis, I didn't even know it was possible to love a person you've never met so much.

As I thought about all these things, I could feel my heart shattering—the rules and judgments and little acts of pride I had built up over months and years, cracking like ice. My heart broke with love for our Holy Father, and through him for Christ.

How blessed we are in our Holy Father. He is criticized by both the right and the left. He is a sign of contradiction. Nobody knows quite what to do with him. Yet shining through him, from a pure and holy soul, is the utter love of a Father for his children and of Christ for his Church.

His goodness breaks our hearts so they can be remade in Christ—the greatest gift we could receive this Good Friday.

Best of Last Week

I'm a compulsive article-sharer. Whenever I read something thought-provoking on the internet, I have to share it—whether on Facebook, Twitter, or in an email to friends.

In fact, after I graduated college and communication with my old friends slowed, a few asked, "Why don't you send me articles anymore?!" They were used to almost-daily emails containing the latest gems I'd picked up around the web.

Recently it occurred to me that, instead of deluging Frank and my sisters with 17 emails per day that each contain one lone hyperlink, I could collect all those articles in one place and share them with you. If you get a chance to check them out, I would love to hear your thoughts!

Here are my favorite little gems from last week:

There ain't no pure church by Mark Shea—really good article about the universal Church, in the style of Brideshead Revisited. Just what I needed to hear as I reflect on the changes in the Church under our new pope.

Several Facebook friends posted this New Yorker article, The Retro Wife, which reports that—surprise, surprise—women who are well-educated and feminist are choosing to stay home with their kids. Next up: "Gravity causes stuff to fall." But really, how is this news? You have only to meet my mom and her friends (and probably your mom and her friends) to know that smart, talented, educated and capable women are precisely the kind who make awesome stay-at-home moms—and who often find happiness and fulfillment in doing so.

It made me think of this awesome photo one of my friends put up on Facebook:

Exactly!

I really enjoyed this little piece on why even atheists love Pope Francis (Best line: "yeah and I'm Napoleon").

Naomi's post introduced me to the you are my wild project and like her I'm now somewhat obsessed. My favorite photographer is this lady—so many amazing images beautifully capturing the little moments of every day.

I was thrilled to see that dear Auntie has written a book and it's now available for pre-order. If you're not familiar with the wonderful Auntie Seraphic, she writes a blog of advice for single girls that is just chock-full of wisdom and common sense.

Frank sent me an article called The Case for Getting Married Young, and let's just say he convinced me. ;) Kidding, although really, young marriage is something we're pretty passionate about ("young" meaning early twenties, not 15). Society nowadays pushes people to put off marriage until they've paid off all their student loans, saved up a million dollars, risen to the top of a profession, and traveled around the world. We think that's just silly. As the article beautifully states, why not go through all of that with the person you love, and learn and grow together?

I adored this sweet poem Confessions to be Traced on a Birthday Cake (thank you to Rosie for bringing it to my attention).

And last but not least, two oldies but goodies. I had a discussion with Dean and Morgan recently about why I want to be a stay-at-home mom, and I couldn't resist sending them these two great blog posts from lovely Sarah at Memories on Clover Lane: A Mushed-up Heart and Choices and Why I stay home (you can read more of her wonderful thoughts on mothering here). Those posts are perfect and I love sharing them with friends.

Hope you enjoy these articles!

I love him already

Our family has a new father. Our church has a new pope, the gentle and humble Pope Francis.

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I had EWTN live-streaming on my computer at work all afternoon, to the bemusement of my Lutheran office-mate. My Catholic colleagues also had the news on in their offices, and we ran around very excitedly discussing the news.

Previously my roommates and I had agreed that we would automatically have a party whatever day the new pope was elected, so the first thing I did on seeing the white smoke was send out emails, texts, and Facebook messages: "POPE PARTY AT MY HOUSE TONIGHT!!!"

A small crowd of us gathered for "Pope Francis cake" (aka a strawberry and whipped cream cake I picked up at the grocery store), mugs of hot chocolate spiked with Irish cream, chips and salsa, cookies, and whatever other snacks Colleen and I found lying around the kitchen. Guests brought Argentinian wine (clever) and craft beers, and one couple brought their two adorable children. The three-year-old girl looked up at me very seriously and asked as I took her coat, "Did you hear the news? There's a new pope." Thank you, dear, that's why we're having this party.

It wasn't quite as crazy epic as the neighborhood party my mum threw in 2005, when she got the grocery-store ladies to write "Habemus papam!" on a sheet cake. But we toasted to the new pope, discussed his name at length, and shared what we know of his background. We even had a Baptist friend stop by, in a sweet gesture of ecumenism, to congratulate us partying Catholics (and drink with us, of course).

What a lovely, lovely day yesterday was. I can't wait to get to know our new pope—and to meet him for a little while on our honeymoon in May.

And the rest of the week is shaping up to be just as good—Frank is driving down to DC for his spring break, and this weekend we're flying to Miami for the family bridal shower. I'm counting down the hours til he gets here!

The God of Jacob

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My daily Mass resolutions have been flagging these past few months, but I got it together enough to go today. My stated intention was to pray for the conclave and in particular for my "adopted" cardinal (I can't pronounce his name so I just call him "K.N."). But I found my thoughts wandering.

Last night I had dinner with a friend who, last fall, was trying to figure out if she should leave the Protestant faith of her parents and become Catholic. She spoke freely of her interest at the time, and asked me many questions. I did what I could to encourage her—lent her books, offered her my prayers—but as we sat at dinner last night I knew she had decided not to convert. She said nothing about it, but it was evident in her silence, so different from our last meeting.

I thought of her today, and I thought of our friends Dean and Morgan; Dean is entering the Church this Easter but Morgan has decided to wait—to learn more, to pray more and study more. I thought of something I had said to her when we talked on the phone last week, as she worried if she had made the right decision: "God has a plan for you that is different from His plan for anyone else. Don't measure yourself against Dean or Frank or anybody else. Every person is on his or her own timeline."

I thought, too, of something our former Holy Father said in an interview before he became pope. "How many ways are there to get to Heaven?" a reporter asked him, expecting he would say only one: the Catholic Church. But instead he answered, "As many as there are people." Think of that—each of us, on our own time and in our own way, drawn by grace towards the God who loves us. That's one of my favorite quotes. I repeated it to Morgan and she said she found it comforting.

I thought of all these things, my mind whirling as I sat in church, and then turned my attention to the Scriptures. In the first reading the angel led Ezekiel through a river that got higher and higher til he could no longer cross. I thought of the necessity of faith—of taking a plunge through the unknown in confidence that God will carry you.

But it was the psalm that really caught my attention. The congregation repeated, "The Lord of hosts is with us; our stronghold is the God of Jacob." Such powerful words. I thought of Jacob, picturing a long-bearded patriarch in an ancient era. What a marvel that we share the same faith—a faith as old as humankind, a current that has run across millenia without pause.

I thought of what we Catholics believe happens in a papal conclave; that the Holy Spirit guides the cardinals to choose the successor of St. Peter, the rock upon which Christ built His Church. The path of the Christian Church has taken many twists and turns, as those called to serve God's people often fail at the task; Jacob himself knew a little of those failures in his brothers' sins against him. But he knew, too, the experience of brotherhood in faith, and he knew what it was to have a place in a mighty tradition that existed before us and will continue to exist long after we are gone.

Then I thought of what it means to have a place in the Christian tradition. For a moment, I mentally left my spot in the pew at St. Aloysius and allowed myself a vision of all the noontime Masses going on throughout Washington, D.C. Then I thought of all the noontime Masses throughout the world—and of Masses this morning and this afternoon and evening too, in places like Italy, Nigeria, and Hong Kong, and Trenton, New Jersey, too. All around the world, countless Catholic men and women are kneeling in prayer today, uniting our prayers in an appeal for God to guide our cardinals. Today is not just, as secular sources say, about "history in the making." It's about the making of individual souls—Dean's and Frank's and Morgan's, and yours and mine too—as each of us will be forever changed when God gives us a new Holy Father, the vicar of Christ on earth.

And with that, my thoughts finally centered on the cardinals in Rome today, who like Jacob play a role in this great human pageant that is at once blink-of-an-eye brief and immortal as each human soul. For every man casting a vote today, there are millions more Christians whose prayers are with them. I hope those cardinals know—I hope they share that vision I had at Mass today—of the combined offering of the faithful on their behalf. I trust they know, and feel bolstered and supported by the knowledge. As we wait for the white smoke, we keep praying, uniting with each other and with our cardinals in a worldwide beseeching and a worldwide trusting. While we ask discernment for our cardinals, we don't worry. We know that what we need, God will give us.