Grace in a graceless season: prayer, votes, and the real goal

Spare a moment and a prayer for the political types, please and thank you. I’m one of them. Public policy is part of my vocation. Times like these, I’m tempted to wish it were otherwise.

This is a plague-on-both-your-houses time. Something C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity captures my attitude.

I feel a strong desire to tell you – and I expect you feel a strong desire to tell me – which of these two errors is the worse. That is the devil getting at us. He always sends errors into the world in pairs – pairs of opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of the one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one. But do not let us be fooled. We have to keep our eyes on the goal and go straight through between both errors. We have no other concern than that with either of them.

We have to keep our eyes on the goal – the absolute goal of eternity in the Kingdom of God. Few things are harder for me to do. In politics, the goal is the next vote or the next election. In the greater scheme of things, in the Kingdom, the goal is something different.

Urgency is inherent to political work: this vote, this minute, this interview, this crisis, leading up to a defined point: a specific vote or a specific election. Votes and elections are important, but they’re not final.

Even though I’ve moved on from professional campaign work, I keep a sharp eye on candidates whose success matters to me. If a candidate is underperforming, I tend to mutter things like where is your ground game? How many voters have you met? How many doors have you knocked on? How many phone calls have you made?  

The all-consuming urgency sucks up all the spiritual oxygen. No wonder discourse turns nasty, discouragement hits hard, and I keep finding new ways to find fault with politicians and their supporters.

Urgency pulls me away from the Source of my vocation. Counteracting that pull requires more than an act of will. It takes the grace and mercy of God, beyond anything I deserve. I squander those gifts, and He keeps offering them anew, often in little ways.

There’s the Mass, of course. The Sacrifice, the gift of the Eucharist, is priceless. It’s also the best way to poke a finger in the figurative eye of savage times. One should never check a social media feed without praying first.

More grace comes from bishops who take faithful Catholic citizenship seriously and do what they can to keep me mindful of the long view. A friend in a neighboring state shared with me a letter from her bishop about this year’s election. His closing paragraph is balm for my agitated spirit.

My final encouragement is to be people of “Good News,” doing and saying only the good things that men and women need to hear, things that will lift them up. There is already too much anger, vitriol, and incivility in our culture today. We do not need to add to it but instead apply a cure: kindness, charity, and mutual respect for each other as brothers and sisters created in the image of God. (Bishop Christopher J. Coyne, Diocese of Burlington)

You’re a channel of grace every time you speak or post about an election or news event without resorting to invective. You’re ministering to me and who knows how many others when you bring charity and discernment to your political communications. I’ll never stop needing good examples.

A prominent Christian commentator recently warned about “merely” praying during election season, as though prayer were somehow keeping us from our real tasks. I take issue with that. There’s nothing “mere” about calling on the Lord for healing and wisdom, or about upholding one another in prayer in challenging times.

There are no saviors on any ballot. The right to life, among other things, is in for more rough treatment in our country, regardless of an election’s outcome. How we meet that challenge is going to depend on grace. That means prayer. No fair leaving political creatures to their own devices in thorny times like these.

A pro-life journey: “you know what changed my mind?…”

Consider these two tweets from @LetiAdams:

I wish I could get it across to ppl just how much “abortion kills a baby” didn’t work to get me to understand the truth about abortion.You know what changed my mind? Grace. Plus encountering Christians who didn’t shout at me about how wrong I was about everything.

This is why I don’t want anything to do with bloody-baby pictures outside abortion facilities or on billboards or anywhere else.

I was always squeamish about demonstrations showing the dead bodies left behind by abortion. The “ewwww” factor was overwhelming.

Then a few years ago I read Abby Johnson’s Unplanned, and her more recent The Walls are TalkingI met my friend Catherine, a former abortion worker. Together, they burst my bubble. Troublemakers, the pair of them.

Catherine has said, “The worst thing we can do [when meeting abortion workers] is be confrontational, antagonistic. I think the best thing we can do is smile, say hello – just be that peaceful, kind, loving presence they need.” This from a former worker at an abortion facility, who knows what a sidewalk looks like in the hands of people being antagonistic.

It wasn’t a bloody picture that changed her heart, or Abby’s. It was the truth in relationships.  Patience, love, grace, and time were relevant, urgently so.

I need those reminders. Anyone who’s heard me testify at the State House knows that patience is not my strong suit. Some of the people before whom I testify are not receptive. No names, please.

And yet…”You know what changed my mind? Grace.”

How did I pick one that out of this morning’s torrent of mostly-forgettable social media posts? No matter. Social media’s existence has been justified for another day. Carry on.

Adapted from a post on Leaven for the Loaf.
Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

Open Book: Jacques Maritain, Theodore Roosevelt, & Allen V. Koop

The first Wednesday of each month brings #OpenBook, a blog linkup co-hosted by My Scribbler’s Heart and CatholicMom.com with a roundup of what participating bloggers have been reading lately. 

Theodore Rex was as good as its early chapters promised. I’m impatiently waiting for a copy of Colonel Roosevelt, volume three of this Theodore Roosevelt biography written by Edmund Morris.

I’m fortunate to live only a few minutes away from the offices of Sophia Institute Press, with its extensive catalog of Catholic books. One of their titles recently caught my eye: Christianity, Democracy, and the American Ideal – a particularly timely topic. I’ll be reading it through most of this month, resolutely ignoring as many political-campaign phone calls as possible. (Are voters in every state assaulted with so many calls? New Hampshire only has four electoral votes. Lord have mercy on the bigger swing states.) The book is a selection of writings by Jacques Maritain, edited by James P. Kelly III, exploring the theme of how Christianity and responsible citizenship go together. This is a welcome subject to me, in the age of personally-opposed-but.

Stark Decency deserves greater fame. New Hampshire readers like me can find it in any local bookstore or library shelf, while the rest of you must trust to online sources. Allen V. Koop’s book about a World War II prison camp in New Hampshire reveals a bit of American history little-known outside my Granite State. In 1944, German POWs were sent to the small upstate town of Stark to cut pulpwood for a local paper mill that faced wartime production demands.In an unlikely place and an unlikely situation, friendships developed between some prisoners and guards, and later between prisoners and townspeople. Koop sets out the story in just over 120 pages, ending with an account of a 1986 reunion at which five former POWs returned to Stark for a celebration of friendship and peace. “Camp Stark did more for people and peace than for pulpwood,” he notes. I love the book’s calm and undramatic style, which suits the story.

While motoring in the north country on New Hampshire highway 110, I once came across the state’s historical marker describing the camp. I’m glad the marker is there, and I’m glad Allen V. Koop wrote the story of what’s behind it.

stark-pow-camp
Marker in Stark, New Hampshire. Photo by Ellen Kolb.