I grew up Catholic without ever hearing about the Divine Mercy devotion, which the church celebrates annually on the Sunday after Easter. Even after I had learned about it, I didn’t understand it. A few sisters in my community placed great confidence in the Divine Mercy image and chaplet, but it never really appealed to me. “Why focus on the sorrowful passion and wounds of Christ when we should be singing our Easter alleluias?” I wondered.
The faith of Mary
We were dead in sin but have been brought back to life in Christ — now we must begin to live as he lived
Erica Tighe was 26 when she made the leap: She would set out on her own to be a calligrapher. Full time. In order to pay her $800 rent and cellphone bill and $1,000 college-loan payment and also hopefully afford some food.
Writing in the first person is always a risk, but the subject matter of this column is best done, I feel, through personal testimony. In a world where chastity and celibacy are seen as naive and to be pitied and where there’s a general skepticism that anyone is actually living them out, personal testimony is perhaps the most effective protest.
In 1955 a Jewish sociologist named Will Herberg published a book that caused a stir in religious circles. The book’s title was Protestant, Catholic, Jew, and its premise was that by the time of the postwar religious boom then going strong in America, the country had become religiously tripartite.