It is the morning of Good Friday and I am walking in the sprawling, forested cemetery that surrounds San Miniato al Monte, the spectacular basilica dating back to 1018, which overlooks the city of Florence, Italy. Surrounds is the right word, because at San Miniato, the dead are everywhere. Tombs, headstones, private chapels, and funeral statuary, begin on the grounds in front of the Church and continue well into the landscape of cypress around the back. Graves are set out as something of an Italian garden, with formal walking paths and careful design. ()

The first Jesuit pope, the first non-European in thirteen-hundred years, and first Pope Francis ... the former Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, like Pope John Paul II, has made history just by being elected.



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There’s a nice little meme that’s been playing Facebook, something along the lines of “Check out the weather, watch the sequestration go, notice how the pope resigned—YIKES! Who’s been playing with the TARDIS?” (No pun on “Who” intended, I’m sure.) The meme plays off the natural human tendency to go into panic mode when events of a certain rare kind coincide. At times like these we’re wired to suspect—or at a minimum, in this ironic age, to jest about—conspiracies as if they were real.

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On February 13, 2013, the Catholic Information Center in Washington, D.C. co-hosted with Catholic Voices USA a panel to discuss Pope Benedict XVI’s recent announcement to resign on February 28, 2013. Watch the full footage here.


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It probably isn’t entirely accurate to say that one looks forward to Lent, but I do anticipate its arrival, knowing both that I need it, and that it will be hard. Lent imposes what St. John the Baptist taught: I must decrease, He must increase. Whatever weather this particular February 13th will bring, the spiritual climate is already forecast. Ash Wednesday is a uniformly gray day of cold and quiet. A day of sombre reality, of gloom over the impending crucifixion and death of Jesus. A day of turning down the volume on outer distractions. This is the day that initiates our 40 days in the spiritual desert with the reminder that we are dust. ()

Wishing our readers a merry Christmas (all twelve days of it), a happy new year, and a blessed Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God.

We will resume regular posting after Epiphany.





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Editor's Note: This piece was selected for publication before the tragic shootings took place today at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Our thoughts and prayers are with the parents grieving the loss of their children and all others affected by the tragedy.

We pulled over hastily into a small side street. My overly large pregnant belly balanced a stack of books. My husband's face was concerned as I talked on my phone. It was my due date, but since our son had not yet arrived, we were on our way to another natural-birth class. Our drive was interrupted with a call of unexpected news—my coworker, only 26 years old, had unexpectedly died just hours before. ()

It's never too soon to start preparing for holiday dinnertable conversation about religion and politics. Listen to Kathryn Jean Lopez interview Austin Ivereigh at the Catholic Information Center about his latest book, How to Defend the Faith Without Raising Your Voice. Ivereigh is the founder and coordinator of Catholic Voices, a group started in the UK that trains people to put the Catholic Church's case in the media. Catholic Voices USA has recently formed this side of the pond. ()

There's a new link-up that's getting a ton of traction in the Catholic blog world: It's called What I Wore Sunday, and participants link to posts on their own blogs with pictures of what they wear to Mass (so far it's only women, but I know that Mark Shea is thinking about jumping in next week). This online party has grown by almost 500% in a little over a month, and has been getting a lot of buzz in certain corners of the blogosphere. What is it about this idea that people find so appealing? Kathryn Whitaker described it well over at Austin Catholic New Media when she said of her own participation in the virtual festival: ()

As we celebrate plenty, this new saint gives us a reason to pause and think about those that go without:

"I am not my own; I have given myself to Jesus. He must be my only love. The state of helpless poverty that may befall me if I do not marry does not frighten me. All I need is a little food and a few pieces of clothing. With the work of my hands I shall always earn what is necessary. . . . If I should become sick and unable to work, then I shall be like the Lord on the cross. He will have mercy on me and help me, I am sure."

- St. Kateri Tekakwitha (1656 – 1680), Lily of the Mohawks ()

I visited a church last week and stepped into a time machine.

St. Charles Borromeo Church and School are squeezed onto a pie-shaped lot where Fairfax Drive meets Washington Boulevard on the edge of Clarendon, a district of Arlington, Virginia. Most of the land is parking lot, giving the establishment a congested, urban feel. ()

October has been a major month for Catholic women.

Designated as the month of the Holy Rosary, Catholics everywhere were encouraged to pray with special devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary in October. Catholics believe that she is the most exalted among women, the only creature God created without fault other than her son, Jesus Christ. ()

Editor’s Note:

Last October, Pope Benedict XVI declared a Year of Faith to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the convening of the Second Vatican Council. The document in which he announced this universal journey of faith, the first in 45 years, can be found here. The year of faith begins this Thursday and runs through November 2013. Altcatholicah is pleased to join in this special moment in the life of the Church and invites our readers and writers to creatively and energetically respond to this call. Walk through the door with us. ()

It was the night that we brought our firstborn home from the hospital and I was crying like my heart would break.

I had a wonderful natural birth, no complications, and a beautiful healthy baby boy. Everything was perfect. Then a storm rolled in. Not a soothing rainstorm, one of those eerie, harsh Texas storms that turn the sky an odd, unsettling color. Our front door was blown open with a bang by the force of the wind. Then we heard that a tornado was near. ()

At the busy intersection of Market Street and North Beacon, she waited for me. I was never late, and she was always happy to visit. These kinds of relationships are rare in life, and this was one I sincerely valued and held in respect. Our meeting place was three-quarters of the way up the steep Market Street hill. My legs would rest as my mouth would race. She was a great listener, as I did most of the talking. She was masterful at calming me down, sharing in my joys, and just rehashing the detritus of a day. ()

A few weeks ago, The Wall Street Journal ran a piece on Simone Martini’s Altarpiece of Blessed Agostino Novello. Art critic Peter Plagens describes the saint flying to save a falling child with “superhero alacrity.” It’s an apt sketch of the picture and a catchy phrase in itself—so catchy that the Wall Street Journal editors seized on it for the article’s title, “Future Saint as Medieval Superhero.” Cheese, anyone? ()

"And Mary pondered these things in her heart." (Luke 2:19) I've often wondered about this line. What was Mary pondering, and why was she doing it? Wasn't she busy worrying like every other woman? And what about Simeon’s prophecy that her heart would be pierced by a sword? Didn't that keep her up at night? Yet Luke and the other Evangelists make no mention of Mary worrying. There is no passage like "Mary tossed and turned all night worrying," or "Mary furrowed her brow and tried to hide her fretting about the future." ()

I have heard a lot about how mean the Church is, and how bigoted, because she opposes gay marriage. How badly she misunderstands gay people, and how hostile she is towards us. My gut reaction to such things is: Are you freaking kidding me? Are we even talking about the same church? When I go to Confession, I sometimes mention the fact that I'm gay, to give the priest some context. I've always gotten one of two responses: either compassion, encouragement, and admiration, because the celibate life is difficult and profoundly counter-cultural; or nothing at all, not even a ripple, as if I had confessed eating too much on Thanksgiving. ()