Clarion Herald Young Adults

Death and Life

clarionheraldya — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:38:55 +0000

Change is coming. Life will not be the same. The culture of life is forming in the hearts and minds of these beautiful young people. Yesterday we encountered the disgusting history of the Holocaust at the American Holocaust Memorial. For most, reality became tangible. The atrocities and disgusting disrespect of human dignity during the Nazi regime was not only seen but felt. Emotions such as those create very powerful memories and desires, desires to never let the happen.

This visit was preceded by prayer in front of the main Planned Parenthood facility in Washington D.C. Two hundred and seventy-five teenagers in front of this facility was a great witness. We prayed for the intercession and power of the woman who said, ‘Yes’ to life incarnate, the life of the world. From there we walked in prayer to the White House where we continued to pray especially for all who are at work in there administrating this country. Many hearts there are in need of conversion and a deep encounter with Love, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

After such an emotionally draining experience, we brought all that we experienced to the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. There we reencountered life through the various manifestations of Mary’s love for her children. The Shrine is a great evangelizer for the culture of life. It shows the pinnacle of human work in the glorification of the One Who is Beautiful through beauty. The building’s majesty and expanse are a witness to the grandeur of God. The different images of the Virgin Mary showed us that we are part of something universal in the Catholic Church. The images of Our Lady of LaVang, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Sorrows, etc bore for us the love Christ has for his church. He doesn’t leave her orphaned. He sends His mother to protect her and keep her safe, to lead her to the truth, to lead her members back to Him.

That she did. Our visit to the shrine prepared our hearts to welcome Christ, in His Eucharistic presence, at our hotel. After preparatory praise music, Christ entered adorned in gold flanked by men He is calling to His priesthood. I am convinced that more than any other force on earth, the Eucharist changes hearts. After a day such as this one, encountering Christ as His beloved helped to re-form the hearts of the youth of New Orleans casting aside and in some cases destroying the lies of the culture of death.

The call and response St. Jean-Baptiste de La Salle taught his students is apt.

Life Jesus in Our Hearts
Forever

To Be Pro-Life We Must Die

clarionheraldya — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 23:22:05 +0000

Deacon Kyle here again. This time I’m traveling with youth from throughout the Archdiocese of New Orleans to Washington, D.C. for the March for Life. There are 275 teenagers, chaperones, teachers, deacons, Nashville Dominican Sisters, and priests.

We are currently on the bus on the way to Washington. We’re watching Lion King coming soon for our dinner stop.

We aren’t just on a trip; we are on a pilgrimage. We have been praying and reflecting on what it means to be pro-life, on what we’re taking to D.C., what we’ve left behind, what we desire to be changed.

As I’ve been reflecting, I’ve come to a certain basic principle about being pro-life. To be pro-life we must die. This might not make sense, but bare with me for a moment. We recognize the dignity of each person only when we die to our own selfishness and see in each person, from conception to natural death, the image of God. To be pro-life is to be selfless and go out of oneself for the sake of another. This fundamental principle informs each human interaction and shines forth a culture of life.

Let us begin.

What Do We Do Now?

clarionheraldya — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 19:28:55 +0000

We have now taken eight days out of the immediate experience of the United States. We encountered people in Nicaragua. I don’t mean that in some generalized way. One of the insights from one of guys was that when we left, we left relationships that we had created and fostered. We didn’t come down as powerful, selfish, look-at-me Americans in a world in desperate need. We came rather as Christ and in so doing we met with and came to know persons, Ramón and Juan Carlos, Walter and Padre Marcial, Rogerio and Doña Patrona. We are now connected by relationship. We gave ourselves down in Nicaragua and so now that we have returned we left part of ourselves down there.

At the same time though we received the great love of the Nicaraguan people a love that manifests itself through suffering. We come back with a much better understanding of the cross and much better understanding of the sacrifice of the mass that redeems through sacrifice. We come back men better formed for priestly ministry.

Yes, some of us have no longer take for granted what we have after walking into a home of 6 the size of our measly dorm rooms. Yes, some of us came back with a greater desire to serve the poor. Yes, some of us have returned with a greater sense of the universality, the catholicity of our great Church. Most of all, we have come back with an understanding that the priest goes out. He does not stand still or wait for the people to come to him. He lives the Incarnation with his ministry by going out a proclaiming the witness of his being, his actions, his words. He encounters the people of God where they are: in their homes, at the movie theatre, at Bud’s, at Herbsaint, in the schools. He takes to heart the words he proclaims at the end of mass, “Go forth the Mass is ended.”

Your brother in Christ,

Deacon Kyle Sanders

Christ in the City – Nicaragua

clarionheraldya — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 12:31:38 +0000

On Wednesday, we visited the infirm and sick of the parish in which we are working. This is the first relational experience with the poorest of the poor for these guys. It is an incredibly humbling experience to bring Christ in the Eucharist to those whose house is the size of my meager dorm room at the seminary. Made of sheet metal, various pieces of wood, and straw, their abode is very different than my own.

Yet, when Christ in the priest or deacon or seminarian, enters into the humble abode a joy incomparable manifests itself in their faces. For us bringing Christ, it is also a very humbling experience. Christ has chosen me, in my brokenness to bring Him to these broken people. Carrying the Eucharist through the dirt streets cluttered with trash, it felt like a small unassuming Corpus Christi procession. It puts a new spin on ‘Christ in City.’

The Churches of Granada

clarionheraldya — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 16:30:56 +0000

Tuesday morning, we spent the morning in a little inculturation experience. We walked around Granda touring their churches. It reminds me a lot of New Orleans. There are many parishes in the city within walking distance of each other. Some are run by the diocese and others are run by religious orders. The Salesian Parish is arguably the most beautiful in the city. The outside is stucco painted a Marian light blue alternated with white. Inside, the church’s distinctive dark wood monopolizes your eyes. The arches sustaining the roof and the pillars are of thick dark wood imaging the fact that the Church is built on the cross.

The Jesuit parish had a famous guest nearly hundred years ago now. Bl. Miguel Pro visited the parish not soon after he was ordained a priest. He returned to Mexico to commit himself to the heroic work of bringing the sacraments to Mexican Catholics during the Masonic run Mexican government. Padre Moises, the rector of the parish, allowed the seminarians a unique view of the city of Granada. At the top of the rectory, they had a panoramic view of the whole city. One seminarian said, “The churches are looking of the city like Christ looking over his flock.”

Our Lady of Guadalupe

clarionheraldya — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 23:00:53 +0000

It is apropos that we go on mission on the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Patroness of the Americas. She is a uniting force that can bring us the Church together. She was the primary evangelizer to the native peoples of Central America. By her appearance, the ancestors of the people Nicaragua enter into the faith being baptized in droves. She is the glory of the people of America, a shining example of how Christ, in the womb of our hearts, can shine forth to the world.

It is an Anglo perception that tends to over intellectualize things and in some sense depersonalize things. Mary, in the faith of many Americans, is a theological concept. She is the mother of God. It was through her that God became man. We then owe her adoration and ask for her intercession.

In the faith of the Nicaraguan, she is a person, the mother of their faith. She is the protector, the guide, the love of their lives. They as their patron image, the Immaculate Conception. During the celebrations on December 8, they cry {WHO CAUSES US JOY!} {THE VIRGIN MARY!} This call and response is a communal cry of joy for the great gift of Mary in their lives.

Part of a mission is to compare, not in a self-conscious way, but in a way that allows for reflection on differences. This particular difference can excite within us Americans a deeper trust and relationship with Mary, the Mother of God. We don’t have the gift is this particular inculturation. It, then, becomes more difficult for us, but the effort to grow in relationship with her can only be more fruitful.

Your brother in Christ,
Deacon Kyle Sanders

Prayer Before Mission

clarionheraldya — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 14:40:32 +0000

There are many ways to start a mission trip, but there is only one proper way. It begins with prayer. Without connection to Christ, the mission fails. It’s such a witness to see the semiarians praying their breviary in the airport. Their holding a book foreign to the current airport fare of
Hunger Games and Steve Jobs. It has ribbons and a leather cover.

We began as we begin all things as Catholics in prayer. This experience will provide great opportunities for deep encounter with Christ, but first we need to be open to letting him in the home of our hearts like Zaccheus. We will be walking like Christ hoping to encounter our own Zaccheuses who are sincerely looking to encounter Christ. In our own gringo way, we can be Christ to small children on Christmas break playing in the streets, We can be Christ to the invalid who only receives the Eucharist once a month when the extraordinary minister comes to bring her communion. We can be Christ to a community very different our own like St. Thomas the Apaotle was to those in India.

To be Christ, we need to be rooted in Him. If we don’t pray, we don’t witness. If we don’t witness, we fail in our mission.

Please keep us in prayer as we go to the poor of Nicaragua to be a source of hope and joy in their lives. Pray for us that we may be open to the movement of the Spirit as we encounter Christ in each person we meet.

Your brother in Christ,
Deacon Kyle Sanders

Respect Life Series: Protect Life Act

clarionheraldya — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 15:47:21 +0000

The U.S. House of Representatives passed the Protect Life Act Thursday, October 13, which would bar federal funding for health plans that provide abortion services. The act will next be voted on by the Senate. The USCCB praises the passage in the following article, posted on the Archdiocese of New Orleans website:

The Protect Life Act would apply longstanding federal policies on abortion funding, and conscience rights on abortion, to the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.

The Secretariat of Pro-Life Activities of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) welcomed passage in the House of the ‘Protect Life Act’ (H.R. 358). Sponsored by Rep. Joseph Pitts (R-PA) and Rep. Dan Lipinski (D-IL) and 144 co-sponsors, the Protect Life Act would apply longstanding federal policies on abortion funding, and conscience rights on abortion, to the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PPACA) passed in 2010. Late on October 13, the House passed H.R. 358 by a bipartisan vote of 251 to 172.

“By passing the Protect Life Act, the House has taken an important step toward authentic health care reform that respects the dignity of all, from conception onward,” Deirdre McQuade, USCCB pro-life spokeswoman, said.

As Cardinal Daniel DiNardo, chairman of the bishops’ Committee on Pro-Life Activities, said in his October 12 letter to Congress, the Protect Life Act “will bring PPACA into line with policies on abortion and conscience rights that have long prevailed in other federal health programs.”

“The Protect Life Act would help protect vulnerable children, their families and doctors in several ways,” McQuade said. “It applies the Hyde amendment to PPACA so federal funds will not be used to subsidize elective abortions, bringing this law into line with other federal health programs such as Medicaid and the Federal Employees Health Benefits Program.”

“The Act also helps ensure that the government will not pressure health professionals to participate in abortion against their medical judgment, moral convictions or religious beliefs,” McQuade added.

“Now that the House has acted, it’s the Senate’s turn to help make health care reform life-affirming,” McQuade said.

Don’t miss YA events in upcoming weeks…

clarionheraldya — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 13:00:35 +0000

Looking for something to do with other young adults? Looking to deepen your faith among other Catholic young adults? Then check out this week’s upcoming events sponsored by the CYO/Youth and Young Adult Ministries:

October 6: Theology on Tap series; 6:30 p.m. at the Fox & Hound with Martin Gutierrez, “One Nation Under God”
October 9: Matt Maher in concert; 4p.m. (doors open at 3 p.m.) at the Ohana Pier in Slidell; tickets are $15 in advance/ $20 at the door

For more information on future events, check out the Young Adult Ministry’s website or contact Rachel Longest at rlongest@arch-no.org

Respect Life Series: Postabortion Journey

clarionheraldya — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 16:00:51 +0000

In honor of Respect Life Month, I’ve already posted Abby Johnson’s testimony, and now I’ve come across a moving testimony by an anonymous blogger. I first came across it on the Priests for Life website, which can also be found on the Postabortion Journey blog. I’ve excerpted sections of it, but you can read it in full over at the blog.

[...]

I lost (or gave away) my virginity at age 15 to my high school sweetheart – who was about as clueless as I was about what sex truly was about. Although – to his credit – he seemed to be more ahead of the game than most of his peers. We felt our relationship to be special of course and we weren’t like our peers who were just jumping into bed for the heck of it. We tried a few times and failed or otherwise chickened out of “doing it.” Being 15 does not lend itself to having a lot of freedom since neither of us drove – but we did visit each other a lot and our parents left us alone enough – and let’s face it – two hormone filled teenagers are going to find a way no matter what. I’ll spare you the gory details of it all – but the thing that is most important about this is that fact that I was so willing to give away my virginity to a 15 year old boy, not aware of my worth, not ever being told that I should wait, not ever thinking or being told of the consequences. Yes, I knew pregnancy was a risk – but not to me!

[...]

My boyfriend and I broke up and got back together a lot over the next year or so and each time we did, there were plenty of boys willing to take his place. I somewhat realized it, but didn’t care, that these boys weren’t interested in taking me to the movies or on an official date – they knew what they wanted and so did I. And even when I didn’t want it, some took it anyway.

In the summer before my senior year of high school, I stopped getting my period. My periods were always awful and horrible with days of painful cramps, etc. So I was quite relieved that it wasn’t happening anymore. I’m not sure when it actually hit me that I could be pregnant, but I ignored it.

One morning, in the basement, sorting laundry with my Mom – she asked me point blank – to get any underwear I was hiding in my room to be washed. I hid underwear from when I had my period because it was not a pleasant thing and my Mom simply did not understand that I couldn’t help that my periods were so heavy that most feminine hygiene products were not sufficient. So, I told her I didn’t have any. She asked how long since the last time I had any. I said, “I don’t know.” She looked right at me and said, “If you are pregnant, you are out of this house you know.”

I think we both knew at the point that I was.

I can’t remember the exact words following that but I know there was a lot of screaming and yelling and I do remember specifically saying that she never cared what I did. That afternoon she was pouring over the phone book and gave me a few numbers to call. I went into my room – alone – and called the first one. Women’s Health Services of Pittsburgh. Yes, they performed abortions. It’s $300. Yes, they can see me this Saturday. Wear something easy to get on and off like a skirt. No, no one has to come with me.

I remember my mom saying, well “good, that gives me a few days to find $300” and “Don’t tell your father.” Saturday came and off I went early that morning. My Dad was at the kitchen table with coffee – my behavior was nothing out of the ordinary to him. My mom came in my room and gave me $300 in $50.00 bills and told me to not lose it. She told me where to park and walk to the clinic. And off I went. She didn’t offer to come with me – she would have to explain to my Dad where we were going.

I parked on the North Shore close to Three Rivers Stadium. It was cheaper than parking in town. I walked across the 6^th Street Bridge clutching my purse and checking the pocket of my skirt from time to time where the money was. My mom said not to put the money in my purse because it could get snatched.

I walked up to the Fulton Building. I don’t remember there being any protestors outside at all and Pittsburgh is basically a Monday – Friday kind of town so it was pretty quiet. I gave my name at the window and sat down. I wasn’t used to being in the City really except for the Arts Festival and the Regatta and other big events. They took me back to give me a pregnancy test. About 10 minutes later, it was confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. And “just in time” too – because it seems like I’m about 12 weeks along and one week more and I wouldn’t be able to have an abortion at all or I’d have to pay extra.

Looking back I wonder why my mom didn’t get me a test to take at home just to be sure before sending me downtown? I’ll never know I guess. There was no wait time after the confirmation of your pregnancy to the procedure – except for a quick stop in a “counselor’s” office. I do remember her. She was blond and cute and most likely just out of college and trying to save the world. We talked for a few minutes, she asked about my boyfriend, and then it hit me like a hammer, I wasn’t sure if my boyfriend was the father at all. I hadn’t even thought about him in the few days that this all happened. I had no intention of telling him because my Mom told me there was no reason to tell anyone. But, thinking about it, it could have been him or it might have been another boy. I’ll never really know the answer to that question either.

I remember her asking if I wanted to talk about adoption, etc. I said no. Next was the procedure room. I had never been to a gynecologist before or had any kind of pelvic examination of any kind so I didn’t know what to expect. There was a nurse and the counselor who stayed with me. The nurse explained the procedure to me and I saw the stirrups for the first time. The room was bright and cold. I didn’t change into a gown of any kind – now I know why they said to wear a skirt. There wasn’t much to do before the procedure because at that time there was no anesthesia given at all.

After I was “prepped” the doctor arrived. He never looked at me. He never told me his name. He never talked to me – he talked to the nurse. The counselor talked to me. If you are a woman, you know how horrible a speculum can be even when you know it’s coming – but when you don’t it’s a torture device. Then a clamp on my cervix. I really didn’t even know what a cervix was. The tears start to fall; the counselor held my hand and told me it’s going to be alright. I stare at the ceiling. The doctor is poking and prodding. I feel the cannula. The machine is turned on. It sounds like a vacuum cleaner. On and off. On and off. Checking. Back on. Checking. Back on. More tears, but I don’t make a sound. I don’t talk. The doctor says, “Almost done, I’ve got mostly everything.” The machine shuts off the final time. I remember hearing the gurgling sound of wherever my child is now being deposited. At that time, it’s not a child to me; it’s just tissue because that’s what the counselor told me. It’s not a baby yet, it’s too early.

I know now what a 12 week old baby looks like.

The doctor leaves the room, the counselor helps me to sit up and fix my skirt and I’m walked to the recovery area. A room full of reclining chairs, about 10 or so. Some girls are crying, one is filing her nails. One is getting scolded by her mother in some other language. I am the only one who is alone in my chair, curled up, feeling the cramping starting. I’m given something to drink and a cookie or two. I’m given some birth control pills and some other pamphlets that don’t fit in my purse so I keep the pills and toss the papers on my way out the door. I walk back across the bridge, in pain, with a bulky pad between my legs. I remember where I parked my car. I get in, start the car, and blast the air conditioning and drive home.

I get home, my Dad is now on the deck outside. I say hi and go to my room and lie down. My mom comes in, pulls down my blinds and before she closes the door she asks if I need some Tylenol. I nod yes. Before she goes to get it she says, “We will never speak of this again.” She brings me some Tylenol. I sleep for what seems like a day or so. The next day, I’m off on a day trip to Ohio with my boyfriend who I’m back together with. The day trip gets cut short because of my cramping and bleeding that I’m trying to manage. My boyfriend thinks it’s my period so no questions there. I let him drive my car back home and I go back to bed.

My life is changed forever. I have killed a baby, my baby. I take that fact and all the feeling s with it and stuff it down as far as I can. The feelings lie in the darkness of my soul for years.

That’s the story of my abortion as I remember it. I remember it every day.

Today, the anonymous blogger is a married mother of three children.