During my time living in Rome, I have had many beautiful moments.

A standout memory for me was a foot-washing ceremony for pilgrims during last year's Jubilee. At the Chiesa della Santissima Trinità dei Pellegrini, there is a tradition of washing the feet of the many pilgrims coming to Rome during a Jubilee Year. It was started by Saint Philip Neri, who cofounded the confraternity responsible for this and other social services for the local community.

That brief ceremony was the first time — probably since I was a baby — I had someone wash my feet.

Certainly, this foot-washing is essentially an imitation of when Jesus washed his Apostles’ feet in the Gospel of John. This gesture, along with much of his preaching, was meant to teach servant-leadership.

But what is often overlooked is that his teaching on servant-leadership was primarily directed to the Apostles, not to the crowds who followed him. Why?

In all four Gospels, the Apostles repeatedly fight over power. James and John directly ask Jesus for positions in his kingdom. Again and again, even at their very last meal together with Jesus, they argue over who should be first. In response, He tells them that they must be like children and slaves in order to be powerful. A blow to the egos, no doubt.

He taught them this way because service often goes unnoticed and underappreciated until much later. He taught them this way because wanting power for the wrong reasons disconnects us from people and, indeed, ourselves. Power for its own sake is not power at all.

Power, in its purest form, is demanding, thankless, but ultimately about service. And Jesus dedicated his teaching about servant-leadership to the Apostles because they would be the powerful leaders Christians would turn to.

Look no further than Jesus, who acted as their servant and even their slave on several occasions. He washed their feet, fed them, taught them, tolerated them, and most importantly, gave his life for them. While it is true that everything in Jesus’ life led up to the cross, his life is a valuable lesson in the all-too-often forgotten sacrificial nature of power.

It is that time of year again when Christians everywhere remember the final events of Jesus’ earthly life, culminating in his Death and Resurrection. Perhaps, considering all the bad in the world today, Christians might ask themselves,

“Is this the world that Christ died for?”

It’s a fair question, but perhaps it misses the point of what his death should mean for Christians and all of goodwill.

“Who is greater, the one who sits down to eat or the one who serves? The one who sits down, of course. But I am among you as one who serves” (Lk 22:27).

“Now that you know this truth, how happy you will be if you put it into practice!” (John 13:17).

Notice that Jesus does not reject his power but gives it new meaning. He indeed identifies as powerful, but also as the one who will serve.

On Good Friday, we reflected on the life of a powerful man who gave everything. During Easter and the octave, we will consider how he was restored to life, showing that while powerful, he did not spare his own life to save humanity.

We, too, each in our own way, can use this understanding to work toward a better humanity.

There is a tendency, especially among political leaders, to assert dominance, even at the cost of human life. Today, the Apostles' ego is replaced by politicians' egos. Jesus’ example is especially relevant for them.

Christ is the servant who continues to give all. In his humanity, he demonstrated what it means to serve God and others. In his glory, he reveals that we are all blessed in ways that will benefit one another as we serve, just as he still does.

As we celebrate Easter, reflect on your personal understanding of power. What harm might come from aligning that understanding with Christ’s for a better humanity?

Saint Paul’s famous Christ Hymn could enlighten us:

“He always had the nature of God,

but he did not think that by force he should try to remain equal with God.

Instead of this, of his own free will, he gave up all he had

and took the nature of a servant.

He became like a human being

and appeared in human likeness.

He was humble and walked the path of obedience all the way to death—

His death on the cross.

For this reason, God raised him to the highest place above

and gave him the name that is greater than any other name.

And so, in honor of the name of Jesus

all beings in heaven, on earth, and in the world below

will fall on their knees,

and all will openly proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:6-11)

HAPPY EASTER!

Firstly, I would like to apologize for the lack of articles in the past two months. Since the Jubilee Year of Hope officially ended in Rome on January 6th, I have had a very full schedule. Classes, exams, press briefings, social events, a new job, travel—such has been my life since the turn of the year. This has all prevented me from writing on Ad Petri Sedem as much as I would like. But I hope these coming months will provide me ample time to write more regularly. Thank you all for your patience!

Also, stay tuned for upcoming interviews on this Substack. I think you all will find our interview lineup very interesting! The latest interviews will be released after the Easter Octave.

More than a month ago, we began the penitential season of Lent. For Christians, Lent is a time to deepen one’s relationship with God through sacrifice. Aside from the usual observances of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, it is common during Lent to renounce other things or foods we enjoy. All of this, of course, is to prepare Christians to celebrate more meaningfully Christ’s definitive triumph over death at Easter.

Lenten traditions often vary depending on culture, especially in Europe. In Rome, there is an annual Lenten observance rooted in tradition that dates back to the 4th century: the Lenten Station Churches.

A brief overview of the Station Church Tradition

The word station comes from the Latin word statio, which referred to military postings in Ancient Rome. As Christianity spread throughout the Roman Empire, this term was used to describe a Christian assembly. Pius Parsch notes that as the religion became more established, churches in Rome were chosen for each day of the Lenten season so that Christians could celebrate Mass with their bishop, the Pope. Pope Saint Gregory the Great formalized the tradition, and it was revived in the 1960s after centuries of decline.

Today in Rome, one has two options for attending the Lenten Stational Masses. At 7 AM each day (except Sundays), the Pontifical North American College (PNAC) celebrates Mass at the station church for the day. In the evenings, mass is held at these churches with the Pontifical Academy of Martyrs. The evening masses are usually preceded by a relic procession into the church, accompanied by the chanting of the Litany of Saints in Latin.

When I lived in Rome for a time in 2024, I was enthusiastic about the Lenten Stational Masses. It was my favorite experience celebrating Lent that year, and also the most challenging. I lived near the Lateran at that time, and some of these churches took an hour or more to reach by bus/train! No one I know has completed the entire pilgrimage of over 40 churches in a single Lent. Perhaps, one day, this record will enter the Guinness Book of Records.

I did the pilgrimage again this Lent and am excited to share my experiences with you all. I intend for my reflections on each station church to be brief. I hope they will be an inspiration for your faith journey and provide you with insights on how Catholicism is lived out in Rome.

Ash Wednesday: Mass at Santa Sabina with the Pope

The Basilica of Santa Sabina is one of the oldest and best-preserved churches in Rome. It was built on the Aventine Hill near the house of a Roman matron, Saint Sabina (hence, the basilica’s name), who was converted to Christianity by her slave. They were both martyred for being Christians around the year 126 AD. The current church was built under the reign of Pope Celestine I (422-432) and renovated under Pope Eugene II. It is one of the very few churches in all of Rome that have maintained their original structures. And I would argue that this is equally as impressive as the endurance of millennia-old buildings like the Colosseum and the Pantheon.

In 1219, Pope Honorius III gave the church to the newly founded Order of Preachers—the Dominicans. It has served as the motherhouse of the order ever since.

Every year on Ash Wednesday, it is customary for the Pope to lead a procession from the Benedictine Church of Saint Anselm (Sant’Anselmo) to Santa Sabina. I had the privilege to join Pope Leo XIV, who led the procession — his first as Pope — before celebrating Mass and imposing the ashes.

In his homily, Pope Leo reflected on the antiquity of the tradition of station masses. He also invited all to follow in the footsteps of those saints and martyrs after whom the station churches are named.

San Giorgio in Velabro

The Roman neighborhood where San Giorgio in Velabro is located is popular with tourists. In ancient Rome, the neighborhood was known as the Forum Boarium, the city’s cattle market. It was originally a marshy, low-level area filled with yellow sand, which is why it was called Velabrum (from the words velum, “marsh”, and arum, “gold”). The church of San Giorgio in Velabro was built in honor of its namesake, Saint George, one of the most widely venerated soldier saints, along with Saint Sebastian.

The current church was built in the 7th century and initially dedicated to Saint Sebastian, whose body was thrown in the nearby Cloaca Maxima after being martyred. The church was designated a deaconry (diakonia) to provide social services to the poor. After a period of decay, it was restored by Popes Leo II and Gregory IV.

The church is medieval in structure, with the only artwork being the apse fresco depicting Christ, the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, St. George, and St. Sebastian. Below the altar is the skull of Saint George. To the right is a plaque commemorating Saint John Henry Newman, for whom this was his titular church as a cardinal.

Even though it was just the day after Ash Wednesday, it was packed to the rafters when the PNAC celebrated Mass that morning.

Santi Giovanni e Paolo

Santi Giovanni e Paolo is one of the most lavishly decorated churches in all of Rome. Like Saints Sebastian and George, the brothers Saints John and Paul were also soldiers. They were both martyred around 362-363 AD in their home after refusing to renounce the Christian faith for paganism. The church was built in their honor after the death of the Roman Emperor, Julian the Apostate, who ordered their deaths.

The first church was built in the late 4th century by a Roman senator. It was heavily damaged during the Norman Sack of Rome in 1084 and was rebuilt with a new porch and bell tower. The current interior renovations date from the early 18th century.

It was given to the Congregation of the Passionists by Pope Clement XIV in 1773. It has served as its international headquarters since then.

The church is a popular venue for weddings, particularly because of the chandeliers hanging in the nave. It was during Mass at this church with the PNAC that I learned these chandeliers had once hung in a luxury hotel in New York. They were brought to Rome by Cardinal Francis Spellman, the former Archbishop of New York and the holder of this church's title.

Sant’Agostino al Campo Marzio

Undoubtedly more famous because of the election of the Augustinian cardinal Robert Prevost as Pope, the church of Sant’Agostino is relatively new compared to the churches already discussed. It was built on the site of an older church dedicated to Saint Tryphon, the actual station church of the day before being replaced.

The church was built between 1296 and 1446 and rebuilt between 1479 and 1483. It has served as the motherhouse of the Augustinians since they moved there from Santa Maria del Popolo in 1287.

In this church are the tombs of Saint Monica, the mother of Saint Augustine, and Saint Tryphon, as well as the statue of the Madonna del Parto.

I went there for the evening station mass that Saturday with the Pontifical Academy of Martyrs. Before mass, there was a candlelit procession into the church accompanied by the Litanie Sanctorum. The main altar was decked with relics, which were incensed multiple times during the mass. It was a lovely experience.

Saint John Lateran

I have been to this cathedral church many times, and I’m always surprised by how undervisited it is.

The Archbasilica of Saint John Lateran is the mother church of all Catholics. It is the cathedral of the Diocese of Rome and the seat of the Pope as Bishop of Rome and Universal Pastor.

The church is part of the Lateran complex, which Constantine the Great donated to the papacy in the early 4th century.

Though the church is the oldest public church in Rome, it has been rebuilt and restored many times over the centuries. It was rebuilt at least four times and restored several times more.

In this church are the cathedra of the Pope, the tomb of Pope Leo XIII, a relic of the table of the Last Supper (in the left transept), and the skulls of Saints Peter and Paul (on the high altar). The ceiling is covered with gold, and the aisle niches contain statues of the Twelve Apostles.

A relic of the True Cross was displayed during the sparsely attended Mass.

Saint Mary Major

I couldn’t attend the Station Masses on Monday and Tuesday. But I was happy to spend Wednesday evening at my favorite church in Rome.

I love this church and have written about it at length. But before I offer a very brief overview of the church, I must confess something.

I received the Sacrament of Confirmation at Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican on November 23rd, 2025. Few people knew, though, that Saint Peter’s was not my first-choice church to receive confirmation. It was actually Saint Mary Major, and I had taken steps to receive the sacrament there. Unfortunately, our schedules didn’t align, and so I chose Saint Peter’s instead. I still consider it a privilege to have done it at Saint Peter’s, though, especially during the Jubilee Year.

You can read my article about Saint Mary Major by clicking the link below:

I went to the evening mass that day, which featured a procession of a relic of the True Cross.

San Lorenzo in Panisperna

Situated along the Via Panisperna, the Church of Saint Lawrence (San Lorenzo) is built on the spot of his martyrdom. The Via Panisperna is actually the straight road between the Quirinal Hill and the Esquiline Hill, where Saint Mary Major is.

This church is one of at least seven churches dedicated to Saint Lawrence. He is one of Rome’s most popular saints and is the city’s third patron saint after Saints Peter and Paul. He was an archdeacon who lived during the time of Christian persecutions under the Emperor Diocletian. The tradition goes that after having put to death Pope Saint Sixtus II, the emperor Diocletian offered Lawrence a pardon if he surrendered the church’s riches in his care. After three days, he returned to the emperor, presenting to him the poor of Rome instead of the church’s riches. Enraged, Diocletian put him in prison and had him burned alive on a gridiron in the place where San Lorenzo in Panisperna now stands.

A notable feature of this church is the fresco of the Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence behind the High Altar. It is, surprisingly, the second-largest wall fresco in the city after Michelangelo’s Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel.

It was only my third ever visit to this church when I attended the station mass there with the PNAC. For these occasions, the prison cell of Saint Lawrence is open for veneration.

XII Apostoli

Undoubtedly, one of the most ornate churches in Rome.

Although the Basilica dei Santi XII Apostoli is named after the 12 Apostles, it was originally dedicated to the Apostles, Saints Philip and James the Less. There is very little known about their lives outside of the Gospels. According to tradition, Philip preached in Hieropolis, where he was crucified, while James, the first bishop of Jerusalem, was beaten to death.

The first church on this site was built in the mid-fourth century under Julius I. Another one was built under Pope Pelagius II in the mid-sixth century, around which time the relics of Saints Philip and James were placed under the high altar.

After undergoing a few restorations over the centuries, it was given to the Franciscan order in 1463. It is one of a handful of Franciscan churches in Rome celebrating the 800th Jubilee of the death of Saint Francis of Assisi.

Apart from its magnificent, chandelier-laden interior, the confessio under the altar is a real treat to visit. You’ll find the remains of Saints Philip and James, and niches made by Rome’s early Christians.

I participated in the Stations of the Cross with the Franciscans before the Station Mass.

Saint Peter’s Basilica

Pope Benedict XVI once said that if Saint John Lateran is the head of all churches in the Catholic world, Saint Peter’s Basilica is the heart.

Few things symbolize the Catholic faith more than Saint Peter’s Basilica.

From the Sea of Galilee to the arenas of Ancient Rome, Saint Peter’s journey has inspired the faith of billions. His tomb, located beneath the main altar at the basilica, serves as a link between his time with Jesus and ours.

I assume most people already know a fair bit of the history of this basilica. But what most people don’t know is that the church is celebrating the 400th anniversary of its dedication in 1626.

Santa Maria in Domenica

If only churches like this were open more often.

Santa Maria in Domenica is a church I have often found elusive to visit. According to tradition, on the site of the church once stood a house belonging to a Roman matron. Saint Lawrence would distribute alms here, leading to the church’s original establishment as a diakonia.

The church is also called Santa Maria in Navicella. One can understand the reason for this name by looking at the boat fountain just outside the church.

The apse mosaic in the church is the first such instance in Western art to depict the Virgin Mary at the center.

Unfortunately, the church is rarely open apart from Sunday.

Santa Cecilia in Trastevere

The church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere was constructed soon after the death of its namesake, the patron saint of musicians. The story goes that Cecilia was sentenced to die after refusing the Emperor’s command to sacrifice to Jupiter. Both her husband and her brother, whom she had converted, were also martyred. During Cecilia’s martyrdom by beheading, she sang to the Lord, and she miraculously survived after the executioner thrice struck her neck with an ax. She later died of her neck wounds, leaving her possessions to the church.

The first structure of the church’s current site was a simple shrine. Pope Saint Paschal I then replaced it with a basilica in the ninth century. The remains of Cecilia and her companions were transferred from the catacombs of San Callisto to the basilica.

In the Middle Ages, a bell tower, ciborium, and interior frescoes were added. Some of these frescoes — painted by Pietro Cavallini — are among the most important works of the Gothic era. The present facade of the church was completed in 1527, and the outer courtyard was completed about a century later.

I have found this place to have one of the most peaceful church atmospheres in Rome. Under the high altar is a beautiful effigy of Saint Cecilia. You can access the crypt to see the excavations of Cecilia’s house and the tombs of Saints Cecilia, Valerian, Tibertius, Pope Urban I, and Pope Lucius I.

Santa Maria in Trastevere

A real gem of Trastevere.

Known in the past as Saint Mary’s Across the Tiber, Santa Maria in Trastevere is among the oldest churches in Rome, dating back to the 340s.

According to legend, the grounds of the future church produced a spring of oil, which was later interpreted as a sign of the coming of the Messiah. Some centuries later, a church was built in honor of Pope Saint Callistus I, who was martyred near the spot. Subsequent churches were built by Pope Julius I and Pope Innocent II.

A notable feature of this church is its stunning mosaics. On the facade is a faded mosaic of the Virgin Mary nursing the Christ Child. On either side of her are ten virgins, a clear nod to the parable of the five foolish virgins and five wise ones.

Inside, behind the high altar, are frescoes by Pietro Cavallini, who also crafted mosaics for Santa Cecilia in Trastevere.

San Vitale in Fovea

There is a particular sense of Romanitas one may feel upon entering this church.

The church was built in honor of its namesake, Saint Vitalis, one of many martyrs from the early days of the church in Rome. He is believed to have been the husband of Saint Valeria and the father of Saints Gervasius and Protasius, all of whom were martyrs.

The first church on this site was initially a small oratory dedicated to Saints Gervasius and Protasius. A wealthy widow donated her fortune to the oratory, which was later used to construct a larger church in the fifth century. It would later be referred to as San Vitalis and was the last church to be included in the original titular churches of Rome.

The church was renovated in the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. Pope Pius IX oversaw a restoration of the church, and during his reign, the street level was raised to add a descending flight of stairs in front of the church.

During the evening station mass at this church, palm fronds lined up the central aisle as a reminder of the victory of the martyrs honored there. Before the mass, the congregation solemnly processed into the church, chanting the Litaniae Sanctorum.

The church was decked with relics for the occasion, and they were all incensed at multiple points during the mass.

Santi Marcellino e Pietro

I went to this station church thinking that the mass would start at 6:30 pm. At 7:15 pm, the mass still had not started. It was then that I was told there was a small procession heading towards the church. If only they had communicated that earlier. I was one of several who left after waiting that long.

Santi Marcellino e Pietro al Laterano stands at the corner of the via Merulana and via Labicana. Saints Marcellinus and Peter were two saints with very different personalities. Peter was an exorcist, while Marcellinus was a priest. They were both martyred during the Diocletian persecutions. But, strangely, their remains were transferred from the catacombs to Seligenstadt in Germany, where they have remained ever since. They are also part of a very small group of Roman martyr saints who are not buried in Rome.

The first church was built in the late fourth century by Pope Siricius. After several modifications, it was rebuilt into its current structure in 1754.

Mary remembered all these things and thought deeply about them (Lk 2:19).

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas and the New Year, many people have started to reflect on their lives in the past year. Sometimes, this is the hardest thing to do this season, for we are often more focused on buying food, wrapping presents, and writing Christmas cards. The circumstances of our world today often do not allow time for sustained reflection. But to make sense of our lives and the world this past year, we need to reclaim this time. Slowing down a little can be a start.

What did this year mean for people? For Catholics, this year marked the Jubilee Year of Hope—a tradition observed once every 25 years, which drew many to Rome. It also saw the death of Pope Francis after 12 years of service and the election of the first Pope from the United States, Pope Leo XIV. 2025 also marked the 1700th Anniversary of the First Council of Nicaea—a celebration of a fundamental Christian truth: that Jesus Christ, the second person of the Trinity, is one in substance with God the Father. All of these occasions, among many others, could lead one to characterize 2025 as a celebration of hope, faith, and the importance of the Petrine office.

Amidst Catholic and Christian celebrations of the fundamental aspects of their faith, the world continues to grapple with challenges. 2025 was a year marked by armed conflicts. The war in Ukraine and the Gaza War, seemingly with no end in sight, continue to upend countless lives. The persecution of Christians and other religious minorities—especially in Nigeria—has sparked outrage across the world and renewed focus on religious freedom. This year also saw the souring and dehumanization of politics and debate, particularly with the assassination of American political commentator, Charlie Kirk. In a celebratory year for Christians, these and other unfortunate events are a sober reminder of how fragile life can be, and of our loss of the sense of our neighbors as fellow human beings.

How are we to make sense of all this, never mind the events in our personal lives this year?

There is a renewed focus on the person of Jesus at Christmas, and rightly so. “Jesus is the reason for the season,” as the common saying goes. But perhaps his mother, Mary, who went through so much in the lead-up to his birth, can teach us something about pausing to make sense of it all.

Let’s consider Mary’s circumstances. This young, Jewish virgin was visited by an angel (an archangel, no less) who informed her that she had been chosen to be the mother of God. Think about how terrified she must have felt, as any of us would have been.

Then, she went to help her pregnant cousin, Elizabeth, and likely stayed with her until after she gave birth to John. This likely made her exhausted at times, being pregnant herself, too.

Then, she made the grueling journey to Bethlehem with Joseph, who almost divorced her, at a time of political upheaval in the Roman Empire. They even had to make do with a den for animals for the birth of Jesus. Like many in war-torn areas today, especially the Holy Land, Mary and Joseph did not experience the first Christmas in peaceful times. Like many of us, they too celebrated Christmas in the midst of political uncertainty and fear.

Then, there were the shepherds who came to adore the Christ-child, saying things to Mary that could only amaze her about her newborn son.

All of this must have been a lot for this new, young mother.

And yet, in the midst of it all, she was able to make time to think deeply about all that happened. She did not dismiss them entirely, nor did she think up a purely utopian version of her son’s birth. Her son’s birth was not ideal, nor is our world today. But she can teach us how valuable it is to have little retreats from our busy lives to ponder the true meaning of our present circumstances.

In short, Mary shows us why it is important to slow down to take stock.

Mary remembered all these things and thought deeply about them (Lk 2:19).

The year 2025 can teach us many things: the value of hope and faith, the importance of the Petrine ministry, the loss of a sense of humanity, and the need for religious freedom and non-violent political debate. There are many other lessons we can take from this year into 2026. It is sometimes difficult to find the time to consider them, but Mary can show us how to do this. Mary is perhaps the most relatable figure of the Christmas story because she can teach us how perilous times can be formative for us, as they were for her. As you celebrate Christmas, consider her example, and let her be your guide in making sense of an ever-changing world.

Thanks to all who have engaged with the work of Ad Petri Sedem. It is very heartening to see many admirers of the work done on this platform, particularly that of bridging Catholicism and culture. Stay tuned for more interviews and content in the coming year. Thank you so much!

From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a very blessed New Year!

With love,

Ishmael

Ishmael Adibuah: Hello, everyone. This is the latest edition of the Ad Petri Sedem podcast and blog, where we delve into the relationship between Catholicism and contemporary culture. This project is under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope St. John Paul II.

I am delighted to be joined today by the Oliver family, who have a very special relationship with the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest (ICKSP) in Mouila, Gabon. Previously, I interviewed Canon Alexis Rouquayrol, the rector of the Sainte Thérèse Mission in Mouila. He has been doing amazing work there for years, maintaining a school and a chapel, and bringing the culture of Catholicism to a remote part of Africa.

For the past year, I have been helping him recruit volunteers, and the latest to answer that call was the Oliver family. Ben and Jeannie, welcome to you all.

Jeannie Oliver: Thank you for having us!

Ishmael Adibuah: It is so good to see you. To start, I understand you are from Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Could you tell us a bit about your background, the Catholic culture in New England, and what your parish life is like there?

Jeannie Oliver: That’s a big question! We’ve lived on the Cape for about ten years total. Our parish is Corpus Christi in East Sandwich. It’s a great community with many strong families and good men. In many ways, it feels like a pocket of goodness in a part of the country that can sometimes be hostile to people of faith.

We attend the Novus Ordo at our parish, but there is also a diocesan Latin Mass that the Bishop has thankfully allowed to continue. We started attending the Latin Mass shortly after COVID. God really led us there, and we’ve been attending for about five years now.

Ben Oliver: Regarding our family, Jeannie and I have eight children. Six of them were able to go to Africa with us. We pretty much took the whole family!

Ishmael Adibuah: That is incredible. Many people found themselves renewing their spirituality during the pandemic, and for you, it led to a deeper relationship with the tradition of the Church. What specifically about your parish culture influenced the decision to move your family to Gabon for a mission trip?

Ben Oliver: Our parish has a very strong community of men. There has been a men’s retreat running for 15 years that has really strengthened individual faiths and brought us together. We also started a “Fraternus” group—a brotherhood of men and young men—about three years ago. We have 70 to 80 boys and men meeting every week.

Living in a comfortable society like America, you realize how much you rely on those comforts. When things “crashed” during COVID, we started looking for ways to strengthen our faith that didn’t rely on a crisis to bring it to our doorstep. We wanted to see what more we could do outside of our own little bubble.

Ishmael Adibuah: How did you first come to know the Institute of Christ the King? Did you have a relationship with them prior to this trip?

Jeannie Oliver: It actually started with the mission. About a year ago, we were bouncing ideas around. We knew we wanted to expand our hearts and the hearts of our children. We thought about visiting an apparition site like Fatima, but eventually, we said, “Let’s do a mission trip, even if it’s to the far ends of the earth.”

Because of our love for the Latin Mass, we sought out orders that celebrate the traditional liturgy. We reached out to several, but many were hesitant about a large family due to liability, or they were offering “crash courses” that were incredibly expensive. We sent out inquiries, and the Institute was the only one that came back and said, “Yes! Your whole family, come!” Canon Rouquayrol welcomed us with open arms.

Ishmael Adibuah: It’s to your credit that you took the whole family. In the Church, the journey to salvation is personal, but it is built on community. How did you prepare for such a massive undertaking? Had you ever been to Africa?

Ben Oliver: We had never been to Africa. The biggest hurdle was the language. Canon Rouquayrol told us via video call, “You really need to know French.” We started studying immediately.

Jeannie Oliver: There were the typical medical preparations—yellow fever vaccines, malaria pills, and visas. We even had a nurse from our parish come to our home for two months to teach the whole family, even the little kids, CPR and first aid.

There was also a lot of spiritual waiting. Canon is incredibly busy, so we might go weeks or a month without hearing from him. We just kept saying, “Lord, if you want this, keep the door open.”

Ishmael Adibuah: Describe the journey once you finally set off for Mouila.

Ben Oliver: It was long—close to 60 hours. We flew to Paris, had a layover, then an eight-hour flight to Libreville. We spent the night there and then took a nine-hour bus ride to Mouila. It was stressful, but once we arrived, we saw how beautiful Gabon is. You see the mountains, the valleys, and the plains.

Jeannie Oliver: And the arrival was so smooth. Even with our beginner French, God just seemed to guide us through. A man was waiting for us at the airport with our visas on a clipboard, and he just whisked us through. Not a single piece of luggage was lost!

Ishmael Adibuah: Once you arrived at the apostolate in Mouila, was there a significant culture shock?

Ben Oliver: I wouldn’t call it shock, but the friendliness was striking. We arrived late on a Sunday night, and they had dinner ready for us. We sat down and talked like we had always been part of the family. People weren’t stuck in their phones; they wanted to talk and help.

Jeannie Oliver: Canon Rouquayrol is not the type of guy who sits around. He gave us one day to recover from jet lag, and then it was time to work. My daughter Janice is 16 and a very skilled seamstress. In the sewing room at the mission, we found an embroidery machine that had been sitting unused for about six years, likely since the passing of Canon Fragelli.

Janice got that machine running again. We had raised nearly $10,000 in donations before leaving America, so we brought supplies, but things are hard to get supplies in the rainforest. We spent the weeks before Easter repairing 39 soutanes (cassocks)—making new collars, cuffs, and patching holes. We were working 10 to 12 hours a day.

Ishmael Adibuah: I understand you also worked closely with a local woman named Josephine?

Jeannie Oliver: That was the “golden nugget” of the trip. Josephine is a young mother whom Canon Rouquayrol had met through his prison ministry. She had been in prison simply because she lacked proper identification papers. Canon got her out, gave her an apartment and a job, and told her, “I am your father now.”

He asked me to teach her to sew so she could run the sewing room as a business. She was so patient and determined. By the end, she felt like a sister to us. We still message each other today.

Ishmael Adibuah: And Ben, what was your work like?

Ben Oliver: I worked with my boys on construction. The mission had an old dispensary that they wanted to turn into a nursery and a place for pregnant women to receive care. We spent our time transforming medical rooms into living spaces—knocking out walls, installing windows, and painting.

Painting there is different; you don’t just go to Home Depot. They give you a bucket of white paint and some tint, and you have to mix it yourself! We also fixed a dock that had fallen into disrepair. It was just odd jobs, whatever was needed.

Ishmael Adibuah: Jeannie mentioned earlier how the Catholic culture seemed to permeate everything in Mouila. How did their understanding of the faith differ from what we see in the States?

Jeannie Oliver: It was so deep. One lady I was teaching to sew would stop and make the Sign of the Cross every time she sat down at the machine. She was consecrating every moment.

You would be walking around and hear people singing the Regina Caeli or the Salve Regina while they worked. It was everywhere. Even Josephine, who isn’t Catholic yet (she receives her sacraments this December), knew all the prayers because they live the faith every moment. It’s not just a class; it’s their life.

Ben Oliver: The community is centered around the church. They have a giant bell that rings for Mass, Vespers, and Catechism. No matter what people are doing, when they hear that bell, they head toward the mission. In the US, we are so spread out. It takes effort to drive 20 minutes to a parish event. There, you just hear the bell and walk over. It orients the whole day toward God.

Ishmael Adibuah: You were there for two months. Was it hard to leave?

Jeannie Oliver: Very. I actually convinced Ben to stay a week longer than we had planned! It was a tear-jerker when we left. All the boys and interns came out early in the morning to say goodbye.

Ben Oliver: I was ready to see our other sons again, and the language barrier does make it hard to form the deepest friendships, but the slowness and care-free nature of the culture is something I miss.

Ishmael Adibuah: How do you think this has shaped your children?

Ben Oliver: They saw a much simpler life. We live in an affluent area, and I think they realized for the first time that the rest of the world doesn’t live as we do. It gave them a broader horizon of the universal Church. My boys also served at the altar every day. On Sundays, they’d be up there with 20 other altar servers. It really strengthened their desire to serve.

Ishmael Adibuah: To close, what would you like people to understand about the Institute’s mission in Mouila?

Jeannie Oliver: The Institute is a beautiful gem. The priests are good, holy men who work harder than almost anyone I’ve ever seen. The work in Mouila is phenomenal. You can support them by donating through the Institute’s website or by sponsoring a child’s education at the mission school.

I hope our story inspires other families to go. We took a two-year-old! If we can do it, you can too.

Ishmael Adibuah: Ben, Jeannie, thank you so much for your time and for your testimony. To anyone listening—especially young people—this family of eight went to the rainforest for two months. It is possible. I hope this encourages many to support the mission in Mouila. Thank you all.

Ben & Jeannie Oliver: Thank you!

You can support the Mission Sainte-Thérèse in one of the following ways:

• UNITED STATES: For those in the United States, you can donate by visiting

  Funds for the Missions

  There, you can participate in our donation progra,m Adopt a Student. You can also purchase there the memoir of Canon Henrique Fragelli.

  You can also donate by clicking the link below. Be sure to select St Therese Mission and School.

  Give via ICKSP Website

  Thank you so much for your generosity! May God bless you!

• FRANCE: Pour les donateurs en France souhaitant contribuer, merci d’effectuer votre don sur le compte BNP Paribas de l’ASSOCIATION JEUNES MISSIONNAIRES EN AFRIQUE en précisant “pour la mission de Mouila”. Ceci nous permettra d’éviter des frais internationaux. Plus d’informations sur les dons en cliquant sur le lien ci-dessous. Merci !

  ASSOCIATION JEUNES MISSIONNAIRES EN AFRIQUE

  Merci beaucoup pour votre générosité ! Que Dieu vous bénisse tous.

• ESPAÑA: Donantes en España, por favor, realicen su donación a la Fundación Sancta Theresia, en lugar de a la campaña “Adopte un estudiante”, para evitar gastos internacionales. Para donar, hagan clic en el siguiente enlace. ¡Gracias!

  Fundación Sancta Theresia

  ¡Muchas gracias por su generosidad! Que Dios los bendiga a todos.

Ishmael Adibuah: Hello, everyone. This is the latest edition of the Ad Petri Sedem interview series. In this series, we interview figures of influence who are shaping the culture through their work, and we discuss with them the links—sometimes weird, sometimes not so weird—between Catholicism and culture.

This Substack and blog are under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope Saint John Paul II. We’re very delighted to have your company today. My name is Ishmael Adibuah, and I’m the chief editor of this Substack.

I’m very delighted to be joined today by Dr. Kristin Collier of the University of Michigan Medical School.

Dr. Kristin Collier is an assistant professor of internal medicine at the University of Michigan. She also serves as the director of the University of Michigan Medical School’s Program on Health, Spirituality, and Religion. In addition, she is an associate program director for the university’s Internal Medicine Residency Training Program.

Her professional focus is deeply informed by her remarkable personal journey. Once a self-described pro-choice atheist, Dr. Collier’s experiences as a physician wrestling with patient suffering, combined with key personal encounters, led her to become a committed Christian and a vocal pro-life advocate. Today, she is a prominent voice in the discussion around the role of faith, conscience, and deeply held beliefs in the practice of modern medicine.

She is also a wife and a proud mother of four boys. Dr. Collier, welcome.

Dr. Kristin Collier: Thanks for having me. I’m excited to be here.

Rivalry, Identity, and the “Religion” of Sports

Ishmael Adibuah: We were talking before this about the friendly rivalries that exist between the University of Michigan and other universities. Are you a fanatic in any sort of way?

Dr. Kristin Collier: Yes. I came to Michigan as an undergrad in 1993, so I am a Wolverine through and through—a huge University of Michigan sports fan, and sort of not a fan of anybody else who is playing us.

Ishmael Adibuah: We’re definitely not gonna be friends after this. [Laughs]

Dr. Kristin Collier: [Laughs] It can be its own religion, for sure. The fanfare, the symbols, the get-togethers around the topic, especially Michigan football—it’s a sight to behold.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yeah, especially the Michigan–Ohio games. I think that’s the biggest college football rivalry in the country.

Dr. Kristin Collier: It probably is up there as one of the biggest. Have you been to the Big House before?

Ishmael Adibuah: No, I’ve never been. I have seen there was one game between U of M and Michigan State in 2021 where we beat you guys…

Dr. Kristin Collier: Oh my goodness. Well, maybe if we get you to come out to the Big House, using religious language, we can make you a convert.

Ishmael Adibuah: Not gonna happen. [Laughs]

Vocation, Medicine, and the Late Discovery of Philosophy

Ishmael Adibuah: All right, to more serious matters. Dr. Collier, for those who are most familiar with your work, the rather famous episode in your life was the keynote address you gave to the incoming medical school students at the University of Michigan in 2022. But before we discuss that, I wanted us to talk about your journey into medicine. What led you to decide to go into internal medicine, and were you always concerned with the deeper philosophical questions that you’ve sought to answer throughout your career?

Dr. Kristin Collier: That’s a good question. Regarding my vocational choice, I don’t remember actually ever discerning between career and vocation. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a doctor. My mom always laughs that it’s because when I was a baby, my dad would whisper in my ear, “You can do anything you want after you graduate from medical school.” So I was probably indoctrinated at a young age.

But all joking aside, outside of being a member of the clergy and a parent, the importance of being able to take care of human beings in a time of great need, and to help people navigate their health, illnesses, and the increasingly complicated healthcare system, is a great privilege. Even if I do have to miss things with my family, knowing that when I’m not with them, I’m able to do this work—it is a great gift.

Internal medicine is a broad profession, so it keeps me on my toes. I can take care of, technically, anyone 17 and above. Most of my patients are over the age of 65. I’ve taken care of some of them since I picked them up as an intern at Michigan Hospital in 2001, so they’ve been my patients for 25 years. It’s a real joy.

Regarding your second question, I wish I could give you a better answer. Most of my life, I had not been focused on questions around philosophy or big matters of existential concern. I would say that I was just focused on the realm of biomedical science. I was a biology major at the University of Michigan, went straight into medical school, and then studied the medical sciences. I was raised as a secular humanist, so I never really had any cultivation of thinking about philosophical topics.

It wasn’t until my baptism in 2016 that I realized I had a lovely opportunity to explore the sciences, but I really had had an impoverished education because I hadn’t considered the topics I should be considering as a doctor. What is a human being? What is a person? What is the nature of suffering? I’ve been on this frantic catch-up journey, asking people, “What should I be reading? Which conferences should I go to?” to try and fill in these massive craters in my education and really in my person.

Faith, Mystery, and Seeing Patients “Imago Dei”

Ishmael Adibuah: Interestingly, you brought up the point of re-education. I imagine that search for deeper questions has made your practice of internal medicine a bit more fun.

Dr. Kristin Collier: For sure. I lament the fact that I didn’t have my faith when I was a medical student and a resident. I think now about the way that my faith has made the beautiful work that I do every day really come alive in technicolor. It’s beautiful to understand the complexity of God’s creation and the majesty and the miracle of human life in a way that I appreciate now, but really not properly before.

Because of this biomedical reductionism that I had fallen into, some of the mystery had been stripped away. I’m just so thankful to have that now—to be able to see patients in the fullness of who they are. They’re not just a bag of blood and bones, or life isn’t just molecules in motion, but I’m taking care of people who are made Imago Dei, in the image of God. That instantly transforms that space into one that’s sacred and makes it infused with meaning.

Theme: Burnout, Moral Injury, and the Temptation to Numb Suffering

Ishmael Adibuah: As a young doctor, you talk about the reductionist view in medicine—seeing patients as a problem to get by. Was this your experience as a young internist?

Dr. Kristin Collier: I trained in a time in medicine before we had some of the protections around trainees regarding work-hour restrictions and a focus on wellness. I don’t remember ever hearing the words “burnout,” “moral distress,” or “moral injury” when I was training. It was a really tough time to train.

At a tertiary medical center like the University of Michigan, we take care of people who are often transferred to us because nobody else knows what to do, or because they’re so acutely ill. When I rotated in our ICUs, the acuity was high. I saw a lot of death, dying, and suffering. The average person just isn’t equipped to deal with that, to really process what you see there.

Because of the fast-paced nature of medicine, hyper-efficiency, and the compartmentalization of emotions that has to happen to take care of patients, there was no way to be healthy and to process that. To protect yourself from disintegrating, you either start to emotionally wall yourself off from the suffering you see—which removes you from the person-to-person connection—or you start to cope in some other unhealthy way. There’s no surprise that physicians have a high rate of addiction, alcohol misuse, and divorce.

I definitely was in that bucket of disenchantment—a thick callus that had been built on my skin, and a removal of myself in a way that I think was trying to be protective. When physicians get burnt out, they start depersonalizing the patient in front of them. That becomes a patient safety issue. I do believe I was in this evolving cycle of nihilism and cynicism.

It is a process that is really hard when you go through these existential questions of: How do we make sense of the suffering that we see? But something beautiful can be born out of a period of suffering and discernment. Out of that growth, I’m very thankful to have a new perspective. Not that we ever have a totally right way of being clear about suffering on this side of heaven, but at least I have a sense of peace around God’s sovereignty and the promise of a day when the Great Physician will make all things new. I didn’t have any moral imagination around those topics before.

Meaning-Making vs. Mere “Wellness”

Ishmael Adibuah: I think a great thought exercise for medical school students would be to compare why they wanted to become a doctor with what sustains them through the burnout and long hours. When we talk about addictions to cope with the myriad of emotions in the field, I feel like this grounding would help those practicing medicine today.

Dr. Kristin Collier: I agree. There has been, rightly so, a focus on work–life integration and duty hours. But I believe firmly that if we don’t find a way to make meaning in the 80 hours or so that we’re at work… After-work yoga is great, running is great, but you also need to find a way to find meaning in the work.

I look at a lot of personal statements, and most people say, “I want to help human beings.” But then we lose sight of that. Even the language shifts. People come into medicine and say they want to take care of human beings. Then later, if they pursue a specialty, you hear them say, “I want to take care of people with diabetes.” Sounds great. But then later: “I manage diabetics.” All of a sudden, the person becomes lost. Then sometimes you ask an attending, “What do you do?” and they say, “I manage diabetes.”

We went from a human to a person living with illness, to losing the person, and just naming the illness.

It’s bad for the physician because taking care of someone who has inherent worth and inviolable dignity is where the meaning is. But it’s bad for the patient, too. Patients don’t want to be seen as a disease or a collection of molecules. Abraham Heschel gave a seminal address to the AMA called Patients as Persons in the 1970s. He said medicine is not just a technical vocation, it’s a moral one. Our hope should be to see medicine not just as an impersonal practice on sick bodies, but a personal practice on ill persons.

But if you ask medical students, “Have you ever had a class on what is a human being, or what is a person?” they might respond with, “What are you talking about?” The focus of all that we do is to take care of people, yet those topics are avoided because they’re sticky. They get into moral language and philosophical questions. Hence the need for more of a revival of the humanities within our learners.

Language, Narrative Medicine, and Dehumanization

Ishmael Adibuah: I imagine for people, the language shift from “taking care of patients with diabetes” to “I manage diabetes” seems subtle, but it does matter.

Dr. Kristin Collier: It absolutely does. I had a grant a few years ago in narrative medicine called Our Procedure is Talking. The study was to look at how we use language in clinical care. There was a study in JAMA looking at language in the medical record; when words are used that dehumanize certain groups of patients, their care is actually worse.

There was another study, a NICU simulation, looking at two teams resuscitating a sick kid. One team had a neutral observer, the other had an observer who subjected the team to rude language. The team subjected to rude language saw their diagnostic and procedural skills go down. So, language isn’t just a way for doctors to blow off steam. Patients do worse when we use language that dehumanizes.

The White Coat Talk – Medicine as Human Vocation

Ishmael Adibuah: Let’s move on to your keynote address of 2022. It became famous because some students protested against your giving the address due to your pro-life views. The central theme I took from that address was to recover medicine as a human vocation. Why did you give this sort of address at this specific time?

Dr. Kristin Collier: It’s a big deal to be asked to give the White Coat Address. I gave that talk because it was a talk that I wish I had heard when I was in that same auditorium back in 1997.

I didn’t have much time to put the talk together, to be honest, because I wasn’t sure if I was going to be allowed to give it. There was a lot of drama. But I thought, What would the younger Kristin have needed to hear when she was scared? Medical school is a scary endeavor.

Ishmael Adibuah: How did you manage the very visceral negative feedback you received at the time?

Dr. Kristin Collier: The address was surrounded by a perfect storm. It was June of 2022. An interview came out on The Pillar website that I had done with Charlie Camosy about my conversion from a pro-choice person to a pro-life physician. That same day, the Dobbs decision came out. There is a lot of emotion around abortion because it gets at fundamental topics: bodily autonomy, women’s health, and resources. I became the lightning rod at my place for all that emotion.

It was professionally and personally hard. But also, I was a pretty militant pro-choice person for 40-some years. I felt like if that had been me as a medical student, I would have been protesting and walking out. So I can’t really have anger at anybody. We are all entitled to our deeply held beliefs.

Whenever I got upset, I would think: I’m just really grateful that I have had the opportunity for the scales to have been lifted off my eyes, only because of the grace of God and encounters with people who helped me think differently. Not everybody has had that opportunity.

In the aftermath, the media got hold of my cell phone and email. But you won’t find me on any show talking about it. Jesus was silent in all the space that makes for grace and mercy. Our response shouldn’t look like the world. It was a time to reflect and realize there’s a lot of emotion around this.

Interestingly, around the same time, one of my boys was reading The Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck talks about farming and how a man is not carbon, not hydrogen; he is all of these, but he is much more. The farmer who drives a tractor on dead land he does not know, sees the land only as elements. It reminded me of medicine. If we just see people as carbon atoms, we’re missing the point. It was an interesting time to write the talk, but I learned a ton.

Ishmael Adibuah: I find it admirable that you mentioned being an avowed pro-choice advocate for 40-plus years, so you could put yourself in those shoes. You can’t really lash out in anger because those are deeply held beliefs.

Dr. Kristin Collier: Especially within contested topics that aren’t settled—abortion, physician-assisted suicide, IVF, commercial surrogacy—there are people of goodwill on both sides. We don’t have a monolithic account in U.S. healthcare. I’m a faculty member who holds certain commitments about the sanctity of life. I have colleagues whom I love who hold different views. The university should be a place where we are able to work together and have students exposed to the diversity of ideas. By not talking about these things, that’s not how we grow.

Suffering, Idolatry of Medicine, and the Death of a Friend

Ishmael Adibuah: Staying on the note of your keynote address, you mentioned the tragic story of your friend and medical school resident, Jake. He had been aiming for a fellowship position in academic cardiology when he suddenly became sick and died due to illness. You mentioned that this exposed you to the limitations of medicine. How did this affect you?

Dr. Kristin Collier: This was at the end of my residency, so I was at my most burnt out and cynical. Jake was our chief resident, the shining star of our program. He was the doctor everybody wanted to be. In his final year, he was diagnosed with this really rare, bad cancer. I’m still so angry at his disease.

He died, and it was such a hard time. I realized now what had happened is that I had made medicine into an idol. I thought if we just had enough NIH funding, enough time, enough resources, we’re going to be able to overcome the problem of death. I couldn’t believe we couldn’t save one of our own people.

I had this bad way of thinking: If there is a God, and He’s all good and powerful, He lets Jake die at 27. And He lets all these people I was taking care of—who I thought were doing nothing but trying to kill themselves—live to be 105. It was a wrestling with God.

After Jake died, I felt like Jacob wrestling with the angel. He came out of that encounter with a new name—as did I, eventually—but with a limp. I’ve never really been the same. I had thought medicine could be our savior. I had organized my entire life around it. When our idols come crashing down, it’s painful. But the right-ordered thing can shine out of that darkness. Jake was that catalyst; I couldn’t avoid engaging with the topic of suffering any longer.

Ishmael Adibuah: For any medical student or internist listening who may have dealt with similar episodes, what advice do you have?

Dr. Kristin Collier: Medicine has a way of valorizing the self-sufficiency of the physician. You just “put your head down and move on.” While it’s true that you have patients to take care of, if we don’t process what we’re doing, it’s not healthy.

We need to legitimize that we also suffer in this work also. I think of Jesus weeping. If Jesus, the Great Physician, can have grief, we can too. If there’s a time when we aren’t moved by the death of one of our patients, there’s something wrong. That callus is too thick.

I would encourage students not to go through this by themselves. Find a mentor or group to debrief with. And if they have a particular worldview—let’s say they’re Catholic or Jewish or Muslim—find a group within that tradition. It helps students to hear how individuals have navigated suffering through their specific faith or worldview.

Theme: Faith Integration vs. “Split Lives” in Medical Training

Ishmael Adibuah: While this podcast is devoted to Catholicism and culture, it’s important to validate when medical students rely on religion to guide them.

Dr. Kristin Collier: We have students who say, “I know I’m Catholic on Sunday, and a doctor Monday through Friday, but am I allowed to be a Catholic doctor all the time?” The worst thing would be for medical students to think they have to disintegrate themselves to be a physician. We should welcome people in the fullness of their identities.

Why would we say you have to leave your faith behind in medical school, when you’re going to need it more than ever? It’s harmful and hypocritical. We wouldn’t ask a student who is a mother to stop thinking of herself as a mom during the day.

Warren Kinghorn, a psychiatrist at Duke, wrote a piece called “The Emperor Wears No Clothes.” He wrote about how medical education co-opts words rooted in religious traditions—compassion, justice, charity—but unroots them, so they become “thinned out” and unable to bear the weight of actual living. We need thick dialogue where we bring the fullness of who we are to the table.

And one correction, actually—I didn’t make this clear earlier—I’m not Catholic.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course. Moving on to your pro-life advocacy. You were an avowed pro-choice atheist. How did you become so vocal about your pro-life advocacy?

Theme: Conversion, Feminism, and Seeing Prenatal Life

Dr. Kristin Collier: After my baptism in 2016, I still held on to my pro-choice commitments. It was just part of the water in which I was raised. I thought, How could I be a self-respecting female physician–scientist and be pro-life? I had bought into the idea that if you aren’t totally for abortion, you are anti-woman and anti-science.

In 2018, I invited Professor Charles Camosy, a Catholic moral theologian, to give a talk. At dinner, I told him, “I know you’re pro-life, but don’t try to talk to me about abortion.” He was so nice. He said, “I hear you. Why don’t you read my book?” His book is called Beyond the Abortion Wars.

I thought, “There’s no way a Catholic male theologian is gonna take down a physician–scientist woman on abortion.”

But I read it. It was the first time I engaged in the arguments around abortion, not just the emotion. Charlie was a lovely conversation partner. I remember waking up a year later—this sounds very evangelical of me—and thinking, Jesus doesn’t want us killing babies. I knew I had to change the way I moved in the world. I knew abortion was wrong, regardless of how inconvenient a truth that was for me.

That opened up a whole new way of thinking about fundamental human equality. I started seeing abortion for what it is. I would say abortion is violence against women, violence against our prenatal children, and violence against the person who performs the abortion. Dr. Lisa Harris, a pro-choice colleague here, wrote a piece calling abortion violence, noting the inherent violence in the procedure.

If I call myself a true feminist, one who cares about women and girls, our prenatal sisters are some of the most vulnerable members. They need to be defended.

Ishmael Adibuah: The issue of abortion, euthanasia, and IVF—these are highly emotional issues. Often, that emotion stifles the ability to see the arguments.

Dr. Kristin Collier: Tricia Bruce did a study finding that most U.S. adults haven’t had the opportunity to actually talk about abortion and think about the arguments. There is a “chilling effect.” Rightly so, because there is a lot of suffering in these spaces. But we can’t let our emotions keep us from getting the evidence out. We need to be able to talk about these things so we don’t devolve into ad hominem attacks.

Pro-Life Work in Higher Education – Courage and Prudence

Ishmael Adibuah: How do you see pro-life advocacy in higher education today?

Dr. Kristin Collier: It can be challenging because it’s the minority view without consequence. The University of Michigan has done a great job championing viewpoint diversity and First Amendment principles, so those protections are there. But no one can protect you from the social costs.

I feel that if there is something materially real about the moral status of our prenatal brothers and sisters, we need to defend them in a real way. But I also continue to create bonds of relationship with people at my place. I’m involved with the Patient Rights Action Fund, resisting physician-assisted suicide. I wrote an op-ed in The New York Times about PEPFAR and HIV treatment in Africa as a pro-life issue. But I’m first and foremost a doctor, and I have to make sure I’m still doing my day job well.

Ishmael Adibuah: For pro-life advocates concerned about the social costs, what is your advice?

Dr. Kristin Collier: The social costs are real—soft canceling, being dropped from projects, and removal from positions. My advice is threefold.

First, count the cost. The scriptures say you will count the cost for bearing His name.

Second, build your network of “friendlies.” These are people who think like you, but also people who don’t agree with you but will defend your right to be there. When the White Coat ceremony drama happened, a faculty member who totally disagreed with me emailed to say he would go to the Regents to defend my right to speak. He noted that despite all the angry letters, no one had anything negative to say about my character. Your character and love for students must be above reproach.

Third, pray for discernment. Some things are better waited on until you are tenured. You don’t want to blow yourself up prematurely.

Ishmael Adibuah: That mode of discernment—when to speak, when not to speak—is vital.

Dr. Kristin Collier: People think being strategic is anti-Christian, but it’s about understanding God’s will. I used to think safety was the absence of danger. Now I think safety is the presence of the Lord.

There is a poem by Bernard Shaw about Saint Joan of Arc. She tells the king she listens to the voices. He asks why they come to her and not him. She says, “They do come to you, but you do not listen to them. You have not sat in the evening in the fields listening for them.” We need to make time for silence to discern God’s will.

Health, Spirituality, and Religion – A Public University Program

Ishmael Adibuah: Let’s shift to your role as director of the Program on Health, Spirituality, and Religion. What is the aim of this program?

Dr. Kristin Collier: The aim is to provide intersections for our medical students at the intersection of medicine, religion, and spirituality. We have an endowed speaker series, the Wahl Family Speaker Series, open to anyone. We have a group of student fellows from various religious backgrounds. We have required curricula and electives, including a session where a priest, a mom, and a rabbi talk about the Abrahamic religions’ view of the body. We also have a research arm and a public-facing arm.

We are unique in that we are the only public institution in the country with a program like ours under the medical school umbrella, rather than a divinity school. We want to show students they can lean into who they are.

AI, Technology, and the Difference Between “Care” and “Service”

Ishmael Adibuah: Regarding modern medicine in the time of Artificial Intelligence—how has modern medicine changed, and what can the humanities do?

Dr. Kristin Collier: The stethoscope allowed René Laennec to listen to the heart without putting his ear to the chest. But every step of technology removes us a little bit from the patient. I wonder about AI’s potential to remove us even farther.

A machine can never know the patient. It cannot understand illness, which is the lived context of disease. It cannot understand nuance.

There is a movie called Passengers. In it, Laurence Fishburne’s character gets ill. He goes to a machine that scans him, spits out a diagnosis, and pills. In the next scene, he dies. I ask people: Is that healthcare? It was an accurate diagnosis and treatment, but there was no care. No bearing witness to suffering, no reconciliation, no existential support.

We cannot let the public be the guinea pig for AI. If I outsource my medical decision-making to a machine, I de-skill myself. We need theologians, philosophers, and ethicists to help drive the ship so AI doesn’t drive us.

Human Dignity Across the Lifespan

Ishmael Adibuah: How has your Christian faith informed your work?

Dr. Kristin Collier: After my baptism, I didn’t want to live as a disintegrated person. I rehabilitated my academic focus. Now, all my work—research, teaching, patient care—speaks to the reality of human beings made in the image of God.

Before, I would speak on hypertension or contraception. Now, that doesn’t align with the work I’m called to do. For example, I was invited to give a talk on pharyngitis at the University Health Service. I declined, but offered to give a talk on human dignity instead. They accepted it under an ethics CME requirement.

I show a slide with an embryo, a two-week-old baby, an 11-year-old with Down syndrome, and an older person at the end of life. I ask: “Are all these people included within your moral sphere of concern?” All our assumptions otherwise are ageist or ableist. If one vocation is going to stand up and defend human dignity across a lifespan, it should be medicine.

Ishmael Adibuah: If we can’t agree on whether human beings matter, we might be in the wrong profession.

Dr. Kristin Collier: I gave a talk to physician assistant students. They couldn’t agree with me that human beings mattered more than a dog. I told them: “You’ve devoted years and hundreds of thousands of dollars to this. If you don’t feel human beings have meaning, how are you going to be sustained in this work?”

This lack of clarity is a result of the miseducation of our children. They haven’t had the opportunity to think through these questions.

STEM, the Humanities, and Newman’s “Circle of Knowledge”

Ishmael Adibuah: A final question. In higher education, there is a false dichotomy between STEM and the humanities. How do you see the role of the humanities, and are you hopeful for the future?

Dr. Kristin Collier: I wax and wane with my hopefulness. But medicine is a beautiful vocation, so of course the enemy is going to attack it. Medicine needs defending. But I have hope because I know the Lord Jesus Christ. We do not grieve like people who have no hope.

Regarding the humanities, Saint John Henry Newman’s The Idea of a University talks about the “circle of knowledge.” When we cut theology or philosophy departments, other fields close up and try to answer questions they have no business answering—like biomedicine trying to answer moral questions during the pandemic.

Newman would say philosophy is the fork by which you engage the entire circle of knowledge. Without that formation, a university is like an Arctic winter. We need faculty and students dedicated to forming the human person, not just creating cogs for an economic machine.

During the pandemic, medicine focused on safetyism to a fault, ignoring other goods like funerals or family accompaniment. Medicine became an idol. We need philosophy to be the rudder for the ship of medicine, to guide where we are going.

Ishmael Adibuah: Dr. Collier, I think this conversation could go on for hours. I thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure having you.

Dr. Kristin Collier: It’s been super fun chatting. I look forward to future conversations.

As Pope Leo XIV visits Lebanon from November 30 to December 2—a nation living a pivotal chapter in its modern history—his presence draws the world’s attention once again to a land where faith, culture, and resilience are inseparably woven together. At a time marked by political uncertainty and renewed hopes for peace, Lebanon’s Catholic tradition stands as a powerful witness to unity, beauty, and endurance. It is in this context that the voices of young Lebanese Catholics carry particular weight, offering the Church a testimony shaped by both suffering and profound spiritual depth.

One such voice is that of Adeline Khouri, a Franco-Lebanese communicator and one of the 42 global participants of the 2025 EWTN Summer Academy in Rome. In our conversation, she reflects on how her Lebanese heritage, Eastern Catholic identity, and formation in Catholic media have shaped her mission to “bridge East and West.” Her insights illuminate the richness of Lebanon’s incarnational faith and the hope she carries into her work.

Ishmael Adibuah: Thanks for this interview, Adeline. To start off, tell us a bit about yourself and your journey into Catholic media.

Adeline Khouri: I’m Adeline Khouri, a Franco-Lebanese passionate about the Theology of the Body and sharing the beauty of the Catholic faith through media. My journey began with a desire to help people encounter Christ in ways that heal, inspire, and educate. Growing up in Lebanon, a land where faith and culture are deeply intertwined, I was inspired by the music, poetry, and liturgy that express God’s presence in everyday life, the Incarnation of the sacred in our culture. Over the years, I’ve hosted podcasts, spoken at international conferences, and created content on human dignity, marriage, and vocation. I see media as a bridge between East and West, helping people understand the richness of Eastern Catholic traditions and the universal message of Christ’s love.

Ishmael Adibuah: You were one of the 42 global participants at the 2025 EWTN Summer Academy in Rome. Tell us about some of the lessons and memories that you took away from that experience.

Adeline Khouri: The Summer Academy was a transformative experience. I learned the importance of storytelling in media, not just to inform, but to touch hearts and transform lives. One memory that stands out was interviewing people and youth from all over the world in the streets of Rome during the Jubilee Year. Hearing their faith stories, dreams, and struggles reminded me of the universality of the Church and the power of personal testimony. Being immersed in the heart of the Church, alongside 41 participants from different continents, inspired me to bring that same depth, authenticity, and joy to my media work, showing how faith can touch everyday life, just as Lebanon embodies the Incarnation in culture and daily living.

Ishmael Adibuah: Our group was so diverse. What was your experience of this diversity, and how did it change your view on the universal Church?

Adeline Khouri: Being part of such a diverse group was profoundly enriching. Meeting participants from different continents, cultures, and rites of the Church showed me the incredible tapestry of the universal Church. I realized that our unity doesn’t require uniformity; instead, the Church shines through its diversity. This mirrors Lebanon in a way that the coexistence of different rites, traditions, and languages in one small country shows that faith can be incarnated in multiple beautiful forms, and we can celebrate that diversity while remaining one in Christ.

Ishmael Adibuah: What is your experience of the Catholic Church in your country?

Adeline Khouri: Lebanon is a land where faith and culture are deeply incarnated, and this is beautifully expressed through the Maronite Church and other Catholic traditions. The Maronite liturgy, with its chants, incense, and ancient prayers, carries a profound mystique that touches both heart and soul. Lebanon’s beauty is that it welcomes all branches of the Church, Eastern and Western, Latin and Oriental, living side by side and enriching one another. The Church is woven into daily life, music, food, poetry, and community, and it nurtures families, supports education, and preserves spiritual and cultural heritage. Despite challenges like political instability, this rich tapestry of faith and tradition demonstrates resilience, hope, and the incarnational presence of God in everyday life.

Ishmael Adibuah: Looking into the future, how will this EWTN Summer Academy experience help you in your work back home?

Adeline Khouri: This experience has given me practical skills, inspiration, and a global network that I can bring back to Lebanon. It sparked new ideas for spreading Theology of the Body by sharing the unique experiences of Eastern Lebanese Catholics through media, showing how faith, culture, and daily life intersect in ways that are both beautiful and transformative. I want to create content that bridges East and West, highlighting Eastern Catholic perspectives and helping people everywhere understand the richness of our traditions. By doing this, I hope to inspire, educate, and build a greater awareness of how the Gospel is lived in diverse cultures.

Ishmael Adibuah: What would you like people to know about your country? Culture, food, and places to visit?

Adeline Khouri: Lebanon is a small but extraordinary country where faith, culture, and daily life are beautifully intertwined, a true land of Incarnation. Its music, from Fairuz’s timeless songs to the spiritual melodies of Eastern chants, carries both cultural richness and spiritual depth. The cuisine, mezze, kibbeh, and man’oushe, brings people together in a celebration of community. Lebanon is also deeply connected to love and beauty; I often call it the land of the Song of Songs, where the poetry of the bridegroom and bride reflects God’s love incarnate in creation, culture, and relationships. Theology of the Body is lived and incarnated in Lebanon, in our traditions, our songs, our hospitality, and the way love and dignity are expressed in daily life. From the cedar forests of Bsharri to the ruins of Baalbek and the pilgrimage sites of Harissa and Annaya, Lebanon offers both natural and spiritual wonders. Through my media projects, I want to share this vision with the world, showing how Lebanon’s culture, faith, and poetic beauty can inspire hearts everywhere.

Ishmael Adibuah: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the latest in our interview series for Ad Petri Sedem. My name is Ishmael Adibuah, and I am the lead editor for the Substack, where we delve into issues surrounding Catholicism and modern culture. This Substack is under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope St. John Paul II. We’re delighted to have your company today.

We are also on Facebook, Substack, and YouTube, so you can find us there. Regarding my guest today, I will leave some show notes about her latest book and other material you might find interesting.

I’m very delighted to be joined today by the recently appointed Vatican correspondent of America Magazine, Colleen Dulle, who has been with the magazine for a while and has come out with a new book, Struck Down, Not Destroyed.

To provide a little bit of an introduction to her: Colleen Dulle is a multimedia correspondent, covering and analyzing Catholic and Vatican news at America Media, the premier Jesuit media organization in the United States. She hosts the weekly podcast Inside the Vatican as well. She served as an ABC News correspondent during the 2025 Conclave, which elected Pope Leo XIV, and has commented on Vatican news for MSNBC, the BBC, and CBC, among others.

Colleen’s work has earned regional and national accolades from the Catholic Press Association, the Society of Professional Journalists, and the Louisiana and Mississippi Associated Press Media Editors. She was named the Catholic Media Association Media Journalist of the Year three times, which is quite an impressive feat.

As I mentioned, she is out with her new book, Struck Down, Not Destroyed, which is about her struggles as a journalist covering stories on the Vatican and relaying them to her audience. I’m very delighted to be joined by her today, and I think you’ll find our conversation interesting.

Colleen, welcome.

Colleen Dulle: Thanks, Ishmael.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course. We were talking a bit before this interview about your recent appointment as Vatican correspondent for America Media. For this, of course, you’ll be moving to Rome. You’ll have to deal with the Italian bureaucracy later, I’m sure.

Colleen Dulle: Oh, we’re fully in the process right now.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yeah, you’re in the weeds of it. Maybe you can offer that as a penance or something.

Colleen Dulle: For sure. It certainly feels penitential.

Ishmael Adibuah: So, where are you based currently, before you move to Rome?

Colleen Dulle: I am in New Orleans right now. I’ve been here since 2020, having moved during the pandemic. Before that, I was based out of our office in New York.

Ishmael Adibuah: New Orleans is, of course, famous for its great food. Besides its Catholic Mardi Gras celebrations, you should definitely come down there for food sometime.

Colleen Dulle: Absolutely.

Ishmael Adibuah: Your new book, Struck Down, Not Destroyed—I read it, and before discussing it, I’ll give you my first impressions. I have to acknowledge the vulnerability you show throughout the book. First of all, it’s certainly not for the faint of heart. It is a no-punches-pulled book when it comes to the job you have to do as a journalist covering Vatican stories, including some of the ugliest ones.

This leads me to my first question. In the first chapter, you describe your faith as hard-won. You’re not a convert to the faith—you’ve always been a Catholic—but you write about conflicts in Chapter 1. You talk about a pivotal moment on retreat in Montreal where you found yourself in a chapel, hurling all your anger at God. This was over the abuse crisis, which we must acknowledge is still affecting people today in very hidden ways.

With that episode, how did that moment, wrestling with God, fundamentally change your approach to faith and your work as a Vatican reporter?

Colleen Dulle: I’d say two things. First, as I write in the book, it was really important for me to learn that it’s okay to wrestle with God and with the faith. Doubts are sometimes looked down upon in our world, but it was important for me to learn that I could bring to God all of my frustrations with what was going on in the church.

I write about praying with the biblical story of Jacob wrestling with the angel. As I was going into this long Ignatian reflection on this story, really digging into the text, I realized they wrestle all night long. God is God; He could have beaten Jacob in the wrestling contest right away. God could have just changed Jacob’s name and been done with it. But he chose to wrestle with him all night long in a really frustrating way. They were evenly matched, Jacob gets hurt, it’s nitty and gritty and intimate, and it goes on for a long time.

That made me realize, why would God choose to do that? Because God recognizes that for us, there is value in the wrestling. That gave me permission to bring the things that were bothering me about the church into my prayer and say, “God, I really am wrestling with these things. I’m not going to see that they’re happening and just cut you off. I’m not going to see that they’re happening and say, ‘Oh, well, that’s not related to my relationship with you.’” I can bring those things. We can wrestle through them together.

That was really important for me. The other thing is related: The title of the chapter is Learning to Yell at God. For a long time, I felt that anger was not acceptable in my prayer. Through this experience, I found that I’m allowed to get it all out there with God. God has heard it all and is still there, and is still loving me.

It’s okay to be angry. We have examples of Jesus being angry. Those are two things that carried forward in my spiritual life. My spiritual life is in a much calmer, more stable place now than it was during that awful 2018 wave of the abuse crisis. That was a really difficult time, and I had to cover those things in great detail, going through these long reports. But it’s been a while since we’ve had a big, big thing like that. I think I’ve also matured a little bit as a person, so I’m not as tossed around by waves these days.

Ishmael Adibuah: Hearing you say that it’s okay to be angry at God reminds me of what a priest friend of mine said: God has seen it all. He’s not impressed by you, and he’s not disappointed by you either, because he’s seen it all.

Colleen Dulle: For sure. When you think about God’s experience with humanity, being that we literally killed him, my going to God in prayer and saying, “Hey, what is going on?” is not the worst.

Ishmael Adibuah: It’s not the worst. He’s definitely seen more than that. You write about this in your first chapter, and we talked briefly about the reasons why you wrote this book. Could you delve into how this moment and other moments spurred you on to give this testimony in written form?

Colleen Dulle: Sure. It’s interesting; I didn’t really set out to write this book. As I mentioned in the introduction, this kind of personal writing is way outside my comfort zone. I actually consider myself pretty bad at talking about faith. I’ve gotten a lot more practice since the book came out. I’m also trained as a reporter, as a journalist. We’re supposed to keep ourselves out of the story.

The reason I wrote this book, on a very practical level, is that a couple of years ago, in 2022, I got an email from a relatively new editor at Penguin Random House in their Christian division. He said, “Hey, I’ve just started... and now it’s time for me to start building my own list of authors... I’ve read some of your articles. Do you want to just talk?” And I thought, “Obviously, I’m going to try to get a book out of this conversation. I might never have this opportunity again.”

He’s an Episcopal priest... and we had a lot of similarities in times that we’ve been really frustrated with our respective churches. That frustration came out of a place of love, out of a place of, “I care a lot about this, and so I want it to be better. I want these things to stop happening that threaten the mission of the church.”

Right away on that first call, we hatched the idea for this book. Even though it’s so far out of my comfort zone, I’m learning very practically, through talking to people on my book tour, that the vulnerability and the risk I took is really paying off. I was worried about it... cheapening how people see my journalism, or whether people might think I can’t be as objective as I need to. But it’s really resonating with the readers, who are saying, “Yes, I’ve felt this way too.”

That’s what I wanted above all. So often, when especially upsetting stories about the church come out, my friends will come to me and ask, “One, can you explain to me what is going on? I saw this headline, and it seems really bad.” And two, the question behind that is usually, “What does this mean for my relationship with the church?” They want to talk through that with somebody who knows the issue up close but who also is still going to church, which is not the case for a lot of them.

I was thinking about those conversations all the way through writing this book. I come to really value the exchange of stories, of life experiences, talking with other people about where God’s working in our lives and where it’s harder to find God. The thing that carried me through writing the book was just helping people feel less alone in that process of grappling with some of these things. I wanted to give people information... but also give them my own story. I’m not in a position to give spiritual advice at all, but what I can give is my experience. If that helps people feel a little less alone in the wrestling, then I think it’s accomplished what I set out to do.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes. For a lot of the Catholic world, there seems to be this perception of Catholic journalists as... aloof from the everyday experience of a Catholic, especially those covering the Vatican.

You traveled to Rome in 2019 to attend the Abuse Summit there. I remember when I went to St. Peter’s for the first time... being in just awe at the majesty of this place. You had gone there—this was your first time—and you talked about it as a moment where you felt nothing.

You mentioned your spiritual director, Sylvester, put it this way: You entered the belly of the beast.

Colleen Dulle: The Belly of the Beast, not being St. Peter’s Basilica, but being the Abuse Summit. We should make that clear. Going into the center of the problem.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, I’m going to make the distinction. It’s important to make that point. Being an accredited Vatican journalist now, does the feeling remain that nothing’s changed since then?

Colleen Dulle: It’s so funny; since I captured that first sighting of St. Peter’s... I always think of that moment. I was trying to articulate to myself recently what has changed, because I feel totally different now than I did that first time, when it was just total antipathy. I was so upset at the things I was covering. I was seeing the Vatican as the center of where all these decisions were being made. I think I was also numb from many months of going through these stories, so there was almost no anger left for me to feel. I just saw it, and it was big and overwhelming, and I was just like, “Okay, it looks like the pictures.”

These days, I don’t have one overwhelming feeling when I walk by the Vatican. I have done it so many times now that I’ve felt a lot of different things. I think the way to articulate what’s changed is that I’ve come to see it as a place made up of people. When I first saw it, I saw this big stone facade. Now I see it, and I see all the people I’ve gotten to know over the course of my reporting. That includes people who are doing really good things, people who are just there to pay the rent, and people who are maybe there for negative motivations. All of that together is what makes the Vatican the Vatican.

It’s not just this unmoving stone building or representation of the bad decisions that have been made. It’s so much more. Now it’s the place where I’ve gone and ugly cried seeing Pope Francis’ body. It’s the place I’ve gone for one of the masses for the opening of the Synod on Synodality. It’s a place where I’ve been up on the colonnade for canonizations. It’s the place where I was when Pope Leo was announced, and when I saw the white smoke.

I have all these other memories now associated with it that really put together a much richer picture of what this place is and what it means.

Ishmael Adibuah: And it’s acknowledging that there are a range of emotions... I’ve been to St. Peter’s many times, and I’ve felt joy, I’ve felt tired, I’ve felt like, “Okay, I really do not want to be here. Get me out of here.”

Colleen Dulle: Oh, yes. I’ve felt annoyance many times at the security operation.

Ishmael Adibuah: Absolutely. Going through security can be such a pain.

Colleen Dulle: The majority of the time I’m seeing St. Peter’s, it’s, “Okay, now I’ve spent an hour trying to push through the metal detectors.”

Ishmael Adibuah: I’ve been there. You spend an hour and a half standing in line, and the moment you get inside, you think, “Okay, can I just go home now, please?”

Colleen Dulle: Yep. I would love to sit down in the Basilica, but there’s nowhere to sit.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, it’s important to acknowledge that there are a whole host of emotions for one visiting Saint Peter’s Basilica.

Focusing on that 2019 summit, how was that for you as a journalist?

Colleen Dulle: It was really eye-opening because it was my first time field reporting on the Vatican beat. It was eye-opening in terms of how Vatican reporting works, because it’s so different from what you learn in journalism school. They teach you in the US, “Okay, you have a story to write, you get three different types of sources, you call each of them up, they’ll probably give you an answer, you write it up, ta-da.” Here, it’s a whole different thing.

I remember standing in a media scrum, waiting for some survivors to come out of the Augustinianum. There was a rumor... so we were all waiting, a big crowd of reporters, maybe 50 of us, outside the gates. While we were waiting, I saw all these people whose faces I just recognized from Twitter. I thought, “Okay, let me just be quiet and listen.” I realized that everybody was participating in this very fast-paced information economy. They were all dropping little bits of information, but it was mostly to see what other bits of information it might spark somebody else to drop.

Gossip isn’t even the word for it; it’s something deeper than that.

Over the course of your reporting, what you’re doing—mostly, since everybody in the Vatican only wants to speak off-record—is getting something from somebody, and then trying to find somebody else who can confirm it, and then a third person who can confirm it. That way, you can consider it a fact. However, those people should not be good friends with each other, because it might be three people working together to get one story out.

It’s not at all what you learn in school. So that was my first taste of that... and how adept Vatican officials can be at dodging questions.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, they’re quite good at that.

Colleen Dulle: Yes, indeed.

Ishmael Adibuah: This was a real baptism of fire for you to cover that. Going over to Chapter 2, and the story of your friend, Molly Burhans?

Colleen Dulle: Oh, yes.

Ishmael Adibuah: She was a world-renowned cartographer, a GIS mapping expert, and she was offered the chance to found a Vatican Cartography Institute. You wrote that the offer came with no budget and a cardinal’s salary.

Colleen Dulle: Yes. Zero operating budget.

Ishmael Adibuah: This isn’t survivable for a layperson without a subsidized apartment. After two years, she had to move on. Is this story atypical of the stained-glass ceiling, or is it a sign of something deeper?

Colleen Dulle: I think the financial issue it points to is pretty typical. Vatican jobs are not very high-paying, so they tend to be taken by either members of religious orders who have their own funding, or independently wealthy people who can do it as a passion, or young people who are really passionate. They want to serve the church, they’re willing to make it work on a shoestring budget, and then they do it for a few years, get totally burned out, and leave.

Yes, I think that’s definitely a big issue at the Vatican. Obviously, they’ve had so many issues over the years with complaints from employees... The Vatican needs to make a lot of adjustments in how it treats lay employees in general. The budgets are really not livable. Obviously, the Cardinals have had to take some hits as well in recent years. Vatican finance is... that’s a whole different podcast.

That issue specifically is not limited to the stained-glass ceiling for women that the chapter is mostly about, but it definitely points to some important issues that need to be resolved.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes. A real stress in your book is female roles in the Vatican, which we’ll talk about later. Shifting over to stories you shared about—your friends—Chapter 3, for me, was the one that was the hardest to read.

Colleen Dulle: It was hard for everybody, I think. At the same time, it’s the one I hear most about from readers as the one that made a difference, or made them feel their experience had been seen.

Ishmael Adibuah: In Chapter 3, you talked about suicide, which is always hard to write about. You talk about the death of your high school friend, Christina, from suicide, and how that grief made it impossible for you to stay in more traditionalist circles, as you feared the teaching that she was in hell.

It does seem this tragedy was a key moment that set in this schism for you personally. How much of the polarization in the church today—and there’s a lot of it—do you think is driven by this kind of failure, where ideologues fail to meet human suffering? How do you see it?

Colleen Dulle: That’s an interesting way to phrase that question. First, let me provide some background. When I started writing this chapter, I wanted to write about the polarization, especially in the U.S. Catholic Church. The story I had in my head when I started writing was that the reason I left the Latin Mass was because of the politics, going up to the 2016 U.S. presidential election. That was genuinely what I thought my experience had been.

But they tell you as a writer to explode a moment. I was at a coffee shop and I realized… the moment had nothing to do with politics. The moment I really felt I couldn’t go back to Latin Mass was when Christina died.

I explore a lot in this chapter the presumptions we all make about each other. I didn’t leave the Latin Mass community because anybody said anything to me about the way my friend had died. I left because I was afraid of what they might say. I assumed that the... more up-to-date church teaching, where we can take into account that people who die that way are suffering from a disease... just wouldn’t have gotten through to the Latin Mass community. I was very worried they wouldn’t be able to say, “She’s in a better place.” They wouldn’t be able to say, “She’s not suffering anymore.”

But that was an assumption. No one actually said that.

Your question, though, was how much of the polarization is due to the inability of ideology to meet human suffering. “How much” questions are always tough, but I think the question points to something really real.

I believe one of the things that truly touched people about Pope Francis, especially those who didn’t feel as welcome during the eras of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, was a perceived shift in pastoral ministry.

For instance, John Paul II’s Theology of the Body presents a beautiful vision and lays out an ideal that people aim for. However, in the Church’s pastoral practice, people who weren’t living up to that ideal—or felt they couldn’t, due to their life circumstances or past choices—didn’t always feel that the Church was there to serve them.

I write about my great-grandfather, who was a really devout Catholic. His first marriage fell apart, and he remarried. But it pained him so much that he couldn’t go to Communion for years afterward.

My grandma told my mom this story, who then passed it on to me. Finally, something changed: my great-grandfather got sick, and as a result, he and his second wife couldn’t have sex anymore. His pastor told him, “Well, in that case, you can go to confession, and you can come back.”

My great-grandfather then made this a huge deal. He invited the whole family and was crying as he received the Eucharist for the first time in decades.

These are the folks who felt left out of the church’s ministry. I think the thing that made people feel truly reached out to under Pope Francis was that he talked a lot about the “gray areas” of life. He made sure that the church was going out and actively including and ministering to the people who live in that gray area—who, for whatever reason, find the ideal to be something they can’t reach.

But going back to ideology meeting that suffering: On the one side, you have folks who make other people feel excluded because they can’t live up to the ideal. On the other side, the ideology of the left—and I say this as somebody who leans pretty far left myself—is often not willing to recognize the suffering of the other side.

I talk in this chapter about Traditionis Custodes, about the restrictions on the TLM. From some of the really hardcore Francis folks who are just not willing to criticize him at all, you hear a total lack of empathy for people who have had the form of worship they love taken away from them.

We all need to do a much better job of seeing the humanity in each other and of being empathetic to one another’s suffering, rather than just responding to someone’s real-life experience with ideology.

Ishmael Adibuah: I think what you’ve just described is polarization and its effects. It excludes people. I think for better or for worse, what attracted people to Pope Francis was that he tried to present the church to what we would call marginalized people and try to convince them, “Yes, we’re a divine institution, but we’re also a human institution, and we want to identify with your suffering in ways that polarization does not.”

Colleen Dulle: Exactly. He railed against ideology all the time.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes. Following up on that chapter, you described a dare from your husband, Simon, to attend the Latin Mass, applying the Jesuit principle of agere contra, or acting against your own dislike. You found that while some communities were hostile, others were welcoming. For you personally, did this experiment actually work?

Colleen Dulle: Yes, I think it did. The fruits I can point to are that after that experiment where Simon dared me, “I dare you to go to Latin Mass every other Saturday for the rest of the summer”.

I would say that it worked because, one, it made me get over the ideology and see folks as human again. Also, I really came to enjoy and appreciate that form of the Mass. In fact, after the experiment ended, I did go back a few times, even bringing a friend.

The principle of agere contra is that if, for example, a Jesuit in formation is scared of old people, his superior is going to send him to a nursing home. This is because of the belief that the places we are resistant to go are often the places where God has something to say to us even more urgently.

Yes, I think God had a lot to say to me through this experiment. God wanted to show me that this place I felt so separated from because of ideology is made up of wonderful people who are not all brainwashed by ideology in the same way I was. Some were, some were not. And I could feel at home, welcome, and tap into this very transcendent form of worship.

It helped to break down what I call the Schism of the Heart. I draw this parallel between Jesus saying that if you look at someone with lust, you’ve committed adultery in your heart, and me saying if I look at somebody with hatred because of my ideology, I have already committed schism in my heart.

It’s a helpful reminder for me that this all starts within ourselves. It starts in our heart, and that’s where we have to start pushing back against it.

Ishmael Adibuah: It’s pertinent that you mentioned Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and his warning against the sins in the heart that we commit before we commit external ones. As someone whose parish is a Latin Mass parish, I think when you look at the other side and demonize the other side, it’s very hard to say you haven’t committed some form of hatred in your heart.

Besides the liturgy wars—and we’re definitely not going to talk about that—I just think it’s unfortunately been part of this theme of demonizing people who are of one persuasion or another.

Colleen Dulle: It’s a symptom of a much larger thing.

Ishmael Adibuah: It’s a symptom of something much larger, and I think we need to get past that, especially when it comes to the liturgy. We’re not quite done with controversies just yet. In Chapter 4, titled When Heroes Fall, you describe the impact of the revelations about Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche, who was a personal hero of yours. A 2023 report revealed that L’Arche was essentially founded as a cover for a sex cult.

First, how do you relate to his spiritual ideas now, like the one of climbing down the ladder, which was so foundational for you? And second, tying into that question, can you, or should you, separate a powerful spiritual message from a deeply corrupt source? In other words, can you separate the message from the messenger?

Colleen Dulle: I have many, many thoughts on that.

Chapters 4 and 5 both deal with this question of holiness and sainthood. The lesson I’ve taken is that we need to complexify what we think of as holiness. It’s not just putting a person on a pedestal, because inevitably, we are all sinners. In cases like Jean Vanier’s, he was called a living saint, and he shouldn’t have been.

How do I relate to Vanier’s ideas now? They’re still really important to me. A lot of Vanier’s fans really struggled with whether they needed to somehow unravel all the impact he’d had on them. We all had to learn that that’s not true. The things he taught were really beautiful. One thing that’s given me some solace is that they are also taught by other people. He is not unique in saying that the Christian way to be in a world where everyone is obsessed with climbing the ladder is to climb down the ladder. That’s not unique to him.

The other Vanier teaching that I love is how he talked about God as wounded, and how God is always crying out to us, “Will you love me? Will you be my friend?” That touched me deeply, and that is certainly still the case, no matter what the person who said it has done.

I learned to see, one, that those ideas exist elsewhere... And the other thing is that I think you can, to an extent, separate the person’s actions from the things they taught. God was probably still working in Jean Vanier, despite his deep sinfulness... We can still believe the things he taught were divinely inspired, or at least rooted in his Christianity.

It’s more complicated than just this very American “good guys versus bad guys” view. I think it’s more useful to identify actions as good or evil, rather than people as good or evil.

Ishmael Adibuah: I largely agree with you. This reminds me of churches like San Luigi dei Francesi (Saint Louis, King of France) here in Rome. There are a couple of paintings there by Caravaggio. Caravaggio, who was an infamous character...

Colleen Dulle: He famously killed a person, right?

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, he famously killed a person. Looking at that art, should his actions “de-beautify” the art? Most people would be inclined to say no. It goes back to not so much separating the message from the messenger, but seeing how God can work with them, despite their deep sinfulness.

Colleen Dulle: Yes. And thank God that God still chooses to work through us despite our sinfulness.

Ishmael Adibuah: If all we were was our sinfulness, then we’re done for.

Colleen Dulle: It would be over for all of us. The Catholic Church wouldn’t be here.

Ishmael Adibuah: Chapter 5 deals with a much more heroic figure: Dorothy Day. You write about the irony of working on the canonization cause of Dorothy Day, knowing the process would cost nearly a million dollars. You contrast this with the story of Hermano Pedro in Guatemala, whose cause languished for over 300 years due to a lack of funds.

Does this financial reality, and the corruption, with figures like the postulator Andrea Ambrosi, paint a different picture of the canonization process for you?

Colleen Dulle: The way I would express it is that I think the corruption and the role of finance in the process make it unequal and unfair who can be canonized. I think that’s something the Vatican is trying to make adjustments for.

It’s helpful for us to remember that the people who get canonized are not the only people who are in heaven. And also that there are perhaps people who deserve to be canonized who have not been because of a lack of funds.

It gives me a grain of salt. The reason I don’t feel we should throw out the process is the miracles.

I did a deep dive podcast on the process for confirming miracles, and now I’ve seen this firsthand in the Dorothy Day cause. It is so strenuous and difficult to get a cause confirmed. These days, it’s pretty much only medical miracles that are accepted. You have to have non-Catholic doctors testify about it. You have to have cooperation from the person who was healed. There are so many hoops to jump through.

I genuinely believe in miracles. This part of the process, at least, is God’s stamp of approval on this person, because this could not happen just through our own human effort.

The miracles actually give me a lot of faith and hope in the canonization process, and in the fact that the people who do get through it are meant to be there. I just also think there are probably a lot more people who deserve to go through it, or who could if they were better funded, or if they were from Italy, or whatever.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes. It shouldn’t shock people that more uncanonized people deserve to be saints than actual canonized saints.

I have a final question for you about the Synod on Synodality. I was enamored with your coverage of it.

Colleen Dulle: Oh, thanks.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course. You described the conversation of the spirit method, and the moment when a young woman shared the story of her sister, who was bisexual and died by suicide after being denied absolution. And yet you note that the Synod’s final synthesis report completely omitted any mention of LGBTQ issues.

Does this outcome suggest that the synodal process is not all that it seems, and that when difficult topics emerge, the church defaults to silence instead of hashing it out?

Colleen Dulle: I think there’s some truth to what you said, that the church does default to silence usually, because the church wants to do a longer discernment on how to respond to certain issues.

I don’t think the omission of LGBT people in the Synod document means the Synod was not all it was cracked up to be. I think it was significant that the Synod brought people together from across the world to genuinely listen to people’s experiences. That doesn’t mean every one of those has to be reflected and named in the Synod document.

I think what’s maybe more relevant here is what the Synod as a whole discerned were the most pressing things to address, and what they felt they could speak with consensus on. Everything they said, every paragraph, had to be voted on individually... and we know that in some cases, if there was something they thought wouldn’t get the support, it would be left out.

No, I don’t think that it discounts the process for me. In fact, I see a lot of hope in the process. I do wish the amount of discussion of LGBT issues that happened at the Synod had been expressed more because we heard it was quite a lot. For that not to be included at all in the final document is puzzling. If you spent a lot of time talking about it, it seems like there’s probably a lot to say.

But the question is, was there anything they felt they could be united in saying? I guess what they decided was no.

I think part of that also has to do with the speed of the drafting process, especially that first year, the 2023 session. It was very chaotic at the end.

There were other topics, too, that we know were discussed on the floor that didn’t make a blip in the final document. I don’t know. For me, it’s a big deal that some of these conversations and topics were even raised at this level of a church meeting.

A lot of the listening in the Synod was people sharing their experience of their local church. They were sharing personal experiences, and they believed that they would learn something through that—that God was communicating. It’s again, giving credence to this idea that there is value in sharing those stories.

Ishmael Adibuah: I’ll just add my own two cents. It’s interesting that with the Synod on Synodality, seemingly settled issues made it into the Synod floor for discussion, but not in the final document.

Many Catholics were probably thinking, “Is it theater? Is it not? Is it real? Is it not? Is it settled? Is it not?”

They were also probably thinking, “Why are we discussing this if these are settled issues?”

Colleen Dulle: Sure. My feeling on that is Pope Francis did not want any topics to be taboo or off the table for that first session. For the second one, he removed them from the table by saying, “Here are those 10 study groups that are going to deal with some of these issues.”

But I think allowing conversation about some of those things, even if they weren’t going to end up in the final document. I don’t think that’s anything for the church to fear. If we’re confident that we have the fullness of the truth, then having a good-faith conversation about those things will only lead us to reaffirm that truth. I don’t think it means that it’s all theater, and I don’t think it’s something to fear, either.

Ishmael Adibuah: Colleen, this was a great conversation. Again, I’m a broken record when I say this: This book, Struck Down, Not Destroyed, is not for the faint of heart. But it does reveal a sentiment felt not just by you, Colleen, but by other Vatican journalists; that a lot of them are wrestling with their faith and are looking for ways to express that struggle.

You do that wonderfully in this book, and I recommend everyone to pick up a copy.

Colleen Dulle: Thanks so much.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course.

You can order Colleen Dulle’s book Struck Down: Not Destroyed by clicking the link below:

Struck Down: Not Destroyed

Ishmael Adibuah: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the latest edition of Ad Petri Sedem, where we discuss topics relating to Catholicism and modern culture. This podcast is under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope Saint John Paul II.

My name is Ishmael Adibuah, I’m the chief editor of the Substack, and we’re delighted to have your company today. You can find us online on Substack. We also have a YouTube and Instagram channel, which I will provide links to as well.

It is my pleasure and honor to welcome Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone, who is the Archbishop of San Francisco. I brought him on today to discuss his experience with the Church’s liturgy and his founding of the Benedict XVI Institute. But first, I will just go over his brief bio.

Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone is the Archbishop of San Francisco, a native of San Diego with Sicilian roots. He earned a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from the University of San Diego before studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. There, he received a degree in sacred theology and later a doctorate in canon law.

Ordained a priest in 1982, his career has balanced pastoral work, including as a pastor on the US-Mexico border, with high-level Roman curial service. Notably, he spent seven years at the Vatican, serving on the Apostolic Signatura, the Church’s highest court.

His episcopal journey began in 2002, when he was appointed by Pope Saint John Paul II as auxiliary Bishop of San Diego. He was later appointed by Pope Benedict XVI as Bishop of Oakland in 2009 and installed as the Archbishop of San Francisco in 2012. He’s an active member of several United States Conference of Catholic Bishops committees focusing on family life and canon law. On a personal note, the Archbishop is a lifelong jazz enthusiast and enjoys swimming, hiking, and following professional sports.

Your Excellency, welcome to the Substack.

Archbishop Cordileone: Thank you. Thank you for having me.

Ishmael Adibuah: I went over your bio, and reading up on you before this interview, I found it interesting that while you were in Rome studying at the Gregorian University, you were a student of Cardinal Burke, who we had on the podcast recently. How was that for you?

Archbishop Cordileone: Yes, I’m very grateful, and I’ve been blessed to know him for a very long time. When I was doing my canon law studies, I lived at the graduate house for American diocesan priests, the Casa Santa Maria, which is right next door to the Gregorian University. The Gregorian has an additional course that some students choose to take to specialize in tribunal work, specialization in jurisprudence.

Then-Monsignor Burke would come from La Crosse, Wisconsin, his diocese, to teach one of those seminars, and he would stay at the Casa. So when I began my canon law studies, I got to know him. Then I took that course, so I had him as a professor as well. That was a great blessing. I got to know him, we became friends, and I’ve stayed in touch with him ever since.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course, and I know recently you were at the shrine he founded, the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, for a special Mass. We’ll talk about that in a moment. But just relating to your journey to the priesthood, did you always have an interest in canon law?

Archbishop Cordileone: No, that’s not what I would have elected to do. I would have liked something more biblical or historical. I was interested in Biblical studies. I did the first year of the Biblical theology degree, actually, before I was ordained a priest. Or maybe something in the area of church history or patristics.

But I was ordained in 1982, and the revised Code of Canon Law was promulgated in 1983. So bishops all over the world were sending priests to study the new code. Being recently ordained and having studied already at the Gregorian, I was tapped to return to the Gregorian to get my doctoral degree in canon law, to be well versed in what was then the new Code of Canon Law.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course. There’s a phrase, something along the lines of “You go where you’re sent.”

Archbishop Cordileone: Yes, “Seek nothing, turn nothing down.” And it was providential, as it turns out. I think canon law was a good field for me. I didn’t have any special interest in law, but my mind is good with that way of thinking. It’s very logical. And the way it was taught at the Gregorian, they teach it in a theological way. It was really kind of like studying ecclesiology, which is probably the area of theology that most interests me. So it turned out to be providential. I was well-suited for it, and it’s also been very practical with the things I’ve been asked to do ever since.

Ishmael Adibuah: Of course, and even in your service as a bishop, I imagine you have to use your canon law experience a bit.

Archbishop Cordileone: Yes, certainly.

Ishmael Adibuah: Let’s move on to your interest in the liturgy. This is what led you to found the Benedict XVI Institute in 2013. As a bishop and a priest, I imagine the liturgy is of utmost importance to you, but was this of particular interest to you as a young priest? The liturgy.

Archbishop Cordileone: Oh, yes, definitely. It’s one of the things that inspired my vocation—the beauty of the Church’s ceremonies and how deeply rooted they are in tradition. I’ve always had a great love of tradition. And I realized I had the need to do something practical to enhance the quality of the way the Mass is celebrated in our parishes. That was really the original vision behind the founding of the Benedict XVI Institute. We have so many treasures that we’ve been ignoring for far too long. I think we need to retrieve those treasures and apply them in a way that can speak to people today to revive the beauty, the mystery, and the awe of how we should be worshiping.

Ishmael Adibuah: Definitely. There seems to be a sense of recovery of the sacred, of the transcendent, which, as you said, led you to found this Institute. How did you get this Institute going?

Archbishop Cordileone: Good question. I had some assistants in my Chancery office write articles of incorporation and get it chartered as a nonprofit corporation. A young man who was working for the archdiocese at the time was able to assist me in setting up a website and doing some initial organization. I formed a board. We were still trying to envision exactly what we were supposed to be doing, and we had some fits and starts. The young man then moved away, and it went into a hiatus for a while.

Then, I had known Maggie Gallagher for some years; we worked on the marriage issue here in California together. I knew what a brilliant mind she has, and her practical skills in organizing. I thought this might fit her skill set. So I asked her to become the executive director of the organization. We reformed the board, and we got a lot more cohesion and a more clarified vision, and it sort of took off from there.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, I’ve heard of Miss Gallagher, and she’s done some amazing work with the Institute. Regarding the founding, was it about the liturgical life of your archdiocese, or was it just an overall analysis that something is missing in American Catholic life?

Archbishop Cordileone: Everywhere I went, I experienced that. The original vision has taken twists and turns. I envisioned it initially as something for liturgical formation for laypeople exercising ministries in the Mass, but I wanted to put an emphasis on music and formation of parish musicians, so they understand the Church’s repertoire and how music has to be integrated with the liturgy.

What happened, though, was that we sort of serendipitously went on a tangential route, trying to reclaim the high sacred art and music of the Church’s tradition. That began with the Mass of the Americas, which I commissioned. And then we began commissioning with our composer in residence, Frank LaRocca. It’s polyphony in the tradition of polyphony, but with a bit of a more modern musical touch.

Next, we started celebrating a Memorial Mass in November for people who died homeless. I asked Frank to compose a Requiem Mass for the homeless... So we were trying to reclaim this high sacred tradition of music, and then in other branches of art as well... The Mass of the Americas, Frank adapted it for a parish choir, so it’s a bit pared down, but it’s the same music and can be sung by any decent parish choir. And it’s available online.

We’re focusing right now on our project, Guadalupe 2031. A lot of people don’t know Pope Francis asked for a nine-year novena to prepare for the 500th anniversary of the apparition of Our Lady at Tepeyac in 2031. So we’re trying to promote awareness of that. We’ve scheduled celebrations of the Mass of the Americas in different prominent venues, such as the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, and most prominently, at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City on October 7th.

There’s another project we’re working on as well, the Martyrs of Communism Project. We’re concerned about how young people are thinking that socialism is a good thing. People’s memories are very short. I’ve been told that one billion people are living under totalitarian regimes right now in the world.

And then we’re moving on, getting more back on track to the original vision: to provide practical resources to parishes: the Reverent Liturgy Project. We’ll be producing some YouTube videos on the Church’s vision for liturgical renewal, and have pastors who have moved their parishes in this direction share their practical experience. I’m very excited about it, for the sake of the salvation of souls, the sanctification of God’s people, and the glory of God.

Ishmael Adibuah: Absolutely. Listening to you talk, it has to be said, this sense of a healthy inculturation into the Church’s music and liturgy has been a point of debate. On one hand, people say it should all be about inculturation, and on the other side, say no inculturation at all. What you’ve demonstrated with your Institute is that there can be a healthy inculturation with outside cultures while being faithful to the Church’s tradition, inviting people to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Faith.

Archbishop Cordileone: The reality is, the Church has always been inculturated. People don’t understand what inculturation means now. They think it means you take what’s in the culture and introduce it into the liturgy. That’s not what it is.

I’ll never forget, almost six years ago, when I was with a group of bishops for our ad limina visit. Cardinal Robert Sarah was the prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship at the time. The bishops got on this topic of inculturation, with the idea that we need to introduce their dances and style of music. He kept his head down, just listening. At a certain point... he lifted his head and said, “Inculturation isn’t taking what’s in the culture and introducing it into the Mass. Inculturation is introducing Jesus Christ into the culture. And when that happens, everything changes.”

Then he put his head back down. It was like the oracle of the prophet; no more to be said.

But it’s what the Church has always done. When I asked Frank LaRocca to compose the Mass of the Americas, I gave him that example. I said, “Look at what the Franciscan missionaries did here in California. They built a church. That’s a traditional Catholic church, but it’s in a way that reflects the local culture.” So much so that it begins to transform the culture. Mission architecture is a very popular form of architecture here in California. Secular buildings use it.

So, what the Franciscan missionaries did with the sense of sight, with architecture, is what I asked him to do with the sense of hearing through music. That kind of inculturation is real inculturation.

Ishmael Adibuah: Absolutely. So for anyone listening, inculturation is this sense of incorporating Christ into the culture, and by that, changing the whole culture.

Focusing on the Institute, its core vision from your website is that “the greatest art, the greatest liturgy, is yet to come.” In an age that some see as one of decline, what gives you this sense of hope and optimism, and how can the Benedict XVI Institute contribute to that hope?

Archbishop Cordileone: We might hear a criticism: “Why are you focusing on art and music? There’s so much going wrong in our society.” But at the time of the Renaissance, it was a very traumatic period of history. The Protestant Reformation, the Wars of Religion, etc. The Church focused on the arts as a way of unifying, healing, and sanctifying. Some of the most beautiful art and music the Church has produced came from that era.

The arts form the soul of the people. That’s why, in our Martyrs of Communism project, we hasten to point out how totalitarian regimes get control. Who are the first ones they go after? The artists, the poets, the philosophers, the priests. These are the ones who form the soul of the society. A totalitarian regime, to get control, has to strip the people of their souls. So it’s precisely now that we need to create more sacred beauty for the glory of God.

What gives me hope is a growing interest in the faith among young people. Young men, especially, are interested in Christianity.

So I’m encouraged by the interest of young men in Christianity, and that young people are desiring what is truly substantive. I had an interesting observation at the National Eucharistic Congress we held last year in July. It was a huge success because it was very spiritually focused. This was the first major Church event in our country, envisioned and led by what we refer to as the John Paul II generation. The younger they are, the more liturgically traditional they lean. They’re all very solid liturgically. I think maybe because Pope Benedict has a profound influence on them.

When they discover this tradition, they’re drawn in by beauty. Truth comes along with it. It’s an honest conversation. They accept the fullness of the Catholic faith. They’re also influenced by John Paul II’s Theology of the Body. I think young people want authenticity. I believe they see authenticity there, and they hunger for it.

Ishmael Adibuah: I remember the Mass of the Americas that you celebrated at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception some years ago. I remember your homily. You said something along the lines of that there may be outside criticisms about how much we’re investing in the arts. And you mentioned, referencing the anointing of Jesus at Bethany before his Passion, that while the poor lack material needs, their spiritual needs will always be fulfilled by the Catholic Church nearest to them. They have all this art inside a church, and they don’t need to spend any money on it. It is there for them. This is why we invest so much in the arts—we need to form souls.

Archbishop Cordileone: Yes, first of all, I would say the Church expends far more resources in helping the poor than in the area of the arts, which is right and just. I always think of that famous homily of St. John Chrysostom, when he told the people who donated to enhance the liturgy, "That’s good, but don’t ignore the poor.”

But yes, we also do need to invest in beauty. What you were speaking about is a story I shared... Our new cathedral was dedicated in 1971. There were protests about the expenditure. They said, “Can’t this money be spent to help the poor?”

It was maybe a year or two after that... they had a gathering to speak about poverty, and they invited Dorothy Day to be a speaker. During the Q&A, someone said, “Isn’t it ironic that we’re having this conference to help the poor... when all the money spent on this church could have been used to help the poor?”

And Dorothy Day said, “There are many kinds of hunger. There’s a hunger for bread, and we have to give the poor bread. But there’s also a hunger for beauty. And this is a beautiful place to which everyone has access, from the mayor of the city to the poorest person on the street.”

We dignify the poor when we give them access to beauty. Everyone has a hunger for beauty. My mother grew up in the Great Depression. She said she always enjoyed going back in the afternoon for benediction or vespers because the music was so beautiful. She couldn’t afford to go to a concert, but here she had the gift of beautiful music. We dignify the poor by giving them beauty.

Ishmael Adibuah: Staying on the topic of beauty, Pope Benedict XVI made it an emphasis of his pontificate. Why did you choose him as the namesake of the Institute?

Archbishop Cordileone: Cardinal Ratzinger, then Pope Benedict XVI, has been such a shining light in what is true liturgical renewal. He’s really a reference point and inspiration for so many of us. He’s given us a lot of deep insights about the Church’s liturgy, and also with a great pastoral sensitivity.

I’ve always been impressed by him. A brilliant mind... that can synthesize volumes of deep thought in pithy sentences, but also with a great pastoral sensitivity. I think that’s exactly what we need. We need that intellectual depth, but in a very pastoral way, to help build up the body of believers.

Ishmael Adibuah: Yes, of course. And especially... there’s ever more need for a pastoral sensitivity in... a healthy inculturation towards tradition and offering young people the tradition they so crave.

How have you seen the reception, among Catholics and non-Catholics alike, about the work that you’re doing?

Archbishop Cordileone: Well, the ones connected with us love it. I’m hoping we can build up that sense of continuity that Pope Benedict emphasized so much: that the Council be read in the light of a continuity of the tradition. The concept of “before and after” has inflicted a profound wound on the church. It’s going to take a long time for this wound to heal. There should be no “before and after.” There should be continuity in the tradition.

The liturgy... attains a certain classic form. If it’s classic, it’s withstood the test of time. So it’s beautiful in every age and in every culture. We have a now reordered form of the Mass, but that should be informed by the continuity of the tradition, which would happen if we obey what the Council actually asked us to do.

Ishmael Adibuah: Right. This Institute seems to be at the forefront of the Eucharistic revival. How can it contribute to that Eucharistic revival?

Archbishop Cordileone: To me, this is the basic problem: we need to revive a sense of the sacred. We’ve lost the sense of the sacred. And this plays itself out in a whole wide range of ways. Marriage vows used to be considered sacred. We used to speak about holy matrimony. Human life itself...

It has to begin in our worship. If we don’t have the most important point of sacredness—the worship of God—if it’s not there, we’re not going to have it anywhere else in life.

For example, how people dress for mass. All the talking that goes on in church. This really alarms me... After mass, people start talking inside of church. That never used to be. Church was a place to be quiet. So, reclaiming silence. Dressing in a dignified way.

I love to tell this story about an African-American woman who grew up in southern Louisiana during the Jim Crow laws. As poor as they were, they had a special set of clothes they reserved for going to church on Sunday. So if they could dress well for church, we all can. There’s no excuse.

Ishmael Adibuah: And in a society as affluent as ours is, that leaves little room for any excuses.

Archbishop Cordileone: So, trying to reclaim the sense of the sacred, I think, is the critical thing. That’s what I think the Benedict XVI Institute is contributing to... We can be cooperators with God, building a society that is conducive to human flourishing. It can only happen if we recognize God at the center of our society.

Ishmael Adibuah: In the ordinary form of the mass... There’s one greeting I like a lot: “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” We’ve been at mass, fed by the Eucharist. How can the liturgy inform the culture?

Archbishop Cordileone: Yes. Well, I gave the example of mission church architecture. Think of the example of music. How the notation of Gregorian chant then developed the whole tradition of Western musical theory.

Most of all, though, it’s when people are well formed in their faith—and the primary point of formation... is Sunday worship—they’re going to be an influence for the values of the gospel in their workplaces, their schools, the communities with which they interact.

Ishmael Adibuah: We talk about active participation all the time. The liturgy is supposed to assist in that.

Archbishop Cordileone: We also need to reclaim what that really means. Of course, it’s Pope Pius X who introduced the term, participatio actuosa. He wanted to see the mass as something that the people participate in with heart, mind, and soul, not just in an exterior, superficial way.

Now, however, I think a lot of people have the idea of active participation that everyone has to be doing something. And so, as if there’s no place for choral music. But the Second Vatican Council spoke about Gregorian chant... but other forms of music... and it mentions specifically polyphony. Very few parishes can the people sing polyphony, but the Council acknowledges polyphony as suited to the liturgy.

So there is a place for choral music, because there’s a place for active listening. Listening should be an active thing. If listening were not active participation, we’d have to do away with lectors, and everyone would read all the readings at Mass. That should be pretty absurd. So there is a place for active listening. It’s all about engaging the people.

Ishmael Adibuah: As a final question for you, Your Excellency... What do you hope will be the legacy of the Benedict XVI Institute?

Archbishop Cordileone: The legacy I hope for is reviving the high sacred art tradition that will then begin to influence how Mass is celebrated in parishes all throughout our country and all throughout the world. So I hope this will be... getting the church back on track with sacred beauty. The Church has always been the great patron of the arts... We need to get back on track with that.

And that’s what my memories are of these masses that I celebrate. They’re so deeply moving to me. I get a little bit embarrassed because so often I’m moved to tears because of their beauty. And I try to be stoic, but my Sicilian DNA isn’t very good at that. So I always come away renewed and confirmed in the faith.

Ishmael Adibuah: Right, and I imagine for anyone at these masses, it’d be hard not to shed a tear or two.

Well, Your Excellency, being cognizant of your time here, I want to thank you again for taking the time to talk to me. The reason I really wanted this interview was to offer all of you this liturgical renewal that is happening from institutes such as the Benedict XVI Institute, and to invite you to go deeper in your faith with the liturgy as your guide.

Well, Excellency, thank you again for your time. Hopefully, this renewal that you’re at the forefront of leading with the Benedict XVI Institute will continue and hopefully lead to a true Eucharistic revival in our country. Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone, thank you so much.

Archbishop Cordileone: You’re welcome.

You can find out more about the Benedict XVI Institute by visiting their website at www.benedictinstitute.org

Following our first profile, the journey to meet the participants of the EWTN Summer Academy now takes us to Belarus. Today, I’m speaking with Artiom Tkaczuk, a 35-year-old father of four who balances a career in IT with a long-standing passion for Catholic journalism.

Artiom’s perspective is especially vital. He offers a window into the life of the Church in a nation where Catholics are a minority, and where the Church itself has been rebuilt from the ashes of Soviet persecution. For him, the academy in Rome was a powerful experience of community and a source of invaluable insight. He shares his thoughts on the “amusing” discovery that Catholic communicators face the same challenges everywhere, the specific mission of the Church in Belarus, and the rapid changes in media, from Instagram to TikTok.

An Interview with Artiom Tkaczuk

Ishmael Adibuah: Thanks for this interview, Artiom. To start off, tell us a bit about yourself and your journey into Catholic media.

Artiom Tkaczuk: I’m 35, a father of four, and in my everyday life, I work in IT. However, I’ve been deeply connected with Catholic journalism since my university years. While studying, I began contributing to the local diocese’s website and Catholic newspaper. At that time, I read Aetatis Novae and was inspired by the importance of communication in the Church. Since then, I have continued contributing to national and international Catholic media. Today, the communication of the Gospel, in an age of information overload, is of great importance.

Ishmael Adibuah: You were one of the 42 global participants at the 2025 EWTN Summer Academy in Rome. Tell us about some of the lessons and memories that you took away from that experience.

Artiom Tkaczuk: The sense of community touched me the most. There, I met people from many different backgrounds who strive to communicate the Catholic Church’s teaching in diverse societies and in many different ways. For me, it was a perfect opportunity to learn from their experiences, generate new ideas, and note them for possible implementation and adaptation in the context I work in.

And, of course, the contacts! I’ve already started making use of them. Friends have reached out to ask if I know how to publish Catholic books they’ve created in other countries. I also began reaching out to EWTN Summer Academy alumni and have already made some valuable connections. That’s wonderful, as I might now serve my local Church even better through the contacts I’ve gained.

Ishmael Adibuah: Our group was so diverse. What was your experience of this diversity, and how did it change your view on the universal Church?

Artiom Tkaczuk: Diversity helps us feel the unity within the Church. It’s even a bit amusing to discover that we face the same problems and challenges in Catholic journalism—whether in Belarus, Australia, or the United States. The social contexts are very different, but within the Church, there are many common elements. The experience of professionals addressing these issues in different countries is truly invaluable.

Ishmael Adibuah: Looking to the future, how will this EWTN Summer Academy experience help you in your work back home?

Artiom Tkaczuk: It was interesting to listen to people who are actively involved in Church communications at various levels. I learned about different projects, approaches, and opportunities. Some of them are unattainable for Belarus, while others are possible, and some ideas could be implemented here, but in a different format. The EWTN Academy is definitely about setting a mission for oneself for many years ahead.

I think we can certainly share our experience of how, in a country where Catholics are a minority, we manage to create Catholic media products with very limited resources. We also have invaluable multilingual experience—the Church, which is mostly Belarusian-speaking, communicates with a predominantly Russian-speaking majority. There are also attempts by Catholic bloggers to reach Russian-speaking audiences outside Belarus. Overall, the context in which the Catholic Church exists in Belarus is very, very specific—so I believe we will always have something to discuss and share with representatives of countries where Catholics are a non-traditional denomination.

Ishmael Adibuah: What is your experience of the Catholic Church in your country?

Artiom Tkaczuk: I believe that in the 35 years since the revival of the Church in Belarus—after the fall of the USSR and the official state policy of religious persecution, during which hundreds of churches were destroyed—much has been achieved in the field of communication. We truly have our own publications, established standards, and skilled professionals—that’s a fact.

At the same time, we clearly understand that the field of communication is developing especially fast. Not long ago, Instagram firmly held first place in popularity; today, it’s hard to remember when TikTok took over that position. Formats keep changing, and this requires journalists and everyone involved in communication to move forward together with their audience.

Ishmael Adibuah: What would you like people to know about your country? Culture, food, and places to visit?

Artiom Tkaczuk: Belarus is a green country, full of rivers, lakes, and forests. Almost half of its land is covered by woods. Our history is marked by wars between East and West, which took place on our territory. Despite deep political and geopolitical crises, our people strive for peace. People in Belarus love saunas and enjoy nature.

In my last post, I reflected on the enduring legacy of St. John Paul II and the profound sense of hope I found at the EWTN Summer Academy in Rome. I saw in my 41 fellow participants a living response to JPII’s call to “be not afraid” and re-evangelize the culture. As I promised, I want to begin sharing the stories of these truly extraordinary people.

I’m thrilled to start with Gigi Duncan, a 23-year-old writer and multimedia strategist from Greenville, South Carolina. Gigi’s journey is a powerful testament to the renewal happening in the Church. She describes moving from a cradle Catholicism to her faith becoming truly her own in college, thanks to a vibrant Catholic community. Now working in Catholic media, she shares with us her key takeaways from the academy, how the experience helped her find the confidence to “proclaim [the Gospel] boldly and joyfully”, and her perspective on the magnetic faith she sees growing in the U.S.

Below is the interview.

Ishmael Adibuah: Thanks for this interview, Gigi. To start off, tell us a bit about yourself and your journey into Catholic media.

Gigi Duncan: Although I was raised in New Jersey, I now call Greenville, South Carolina, home. I’m 23 years old and a 2024 graduate of the University of South Carolina, where I earned a degree in Marketing, Management, and Mass Communications. I chose this path because of my long-standing love for writing and my desire to blend creative storytelling with practical business skills!

While I grew up in a household where the Catholic Faith was always present, it wasn’t until college that it truly became my own. Through the Catholic Church and campus ministry at USC, I found a vibrant community of peers who lived out their faith with joy and authenticity. Their example encouraged me to deepen my relationship with Christ, not out of obligation, but out of genuine desire. It was through these friendships and experiences that my faith began to flourish on a personal level.

As my love for the Church grew, I felt called to combine my passion for writing with my growing devotion to the Faith. I served as a Development Intern at St. Thomas More, the Catholic campus ministry at USC, where I created weekly bulletins, designed social media content, wrote donor communications, and assisted in fundraising and organizing the annual #iGiveCatholic campaign. This role allowed me to use my communication skills to support the Church’s mission in a tangible way.

After graduation, I interned with Catholic News Agency at EWTN in Washington, D.C., where I authored more than 30 articles covering a range of topics, from the faith of Olympic athletes to the growth of Catholicism in South Carolina. Growing up, I often heard Mother Angelica’s voice in the background of daily life, as my mom always had EWTN on the television. To work for the organization she founded was both a surreal and deeply meaningful experience. It was through this internship that I first caught a glimpse of what a career in Catholic media could look like, and I was completely hooked!

Most recently, I’ve served as the Multimedia Communications Strategist for Our Sunday Visitor. In this role, I managed multiple periodical websites, wrote featured articles for both web and print, designed social media graphics, and contributed to various digital initiatives. As I wrap up this chapter, I do so with even more confidence that I want to continue building a career in Catholic media. It’s a field that allows me to grow in my faith, tell powerful stories, and connect with incredible people. For all of that, I’m immensely grateful!

Ishmael Adibuah: You were one of the 42 global participants at the 2025 EWTN Summer Academy in Rome. Tell us about some of the lessons and memories that you took away from that experience.

Gigi Duncan: Being part of the 2025 EWTN Summer Academy was an incredible experience, both personally and professionally. I’m grateful to have spent time alongside such talented and mission-driven people, and I already miss the thoughtful conversations, shared goals, and collaborative atmosphere that made the program so impactful.

The academy offered a wealth of insightful lectures and workshops, but one of the most impactful takeaways for me was gaining greater confidence in public speaking. Writing has always been my preferred form of expression, as it allows me to thoughtfully convey my ideas behind the safety of a screen or notebook. Speaking those same thoughts aloud, however, has often made me feel nervous or self-conscious.

Throughout the academy, I was gently but consistently encouraged to step outside of that comfort zone. Whether it was speaking on camera during a workshop or initiating conversations with strangers on the street for my small group’s final project, I found myself saying “yes” more than I expected. I came to realize that if I truly believe the Gospel is the truth, then I should proclaim it boldly and joyfully**—**even when it feels a bit intimidating!

One of the most meaningful aspects of the experience was learning about Blessed (now Saint) Pier Giorgio Frassati. My small group centered our final project on his life, especially his witness to holiness through friendship. I had always admired Carlo Acutis, so diving deeper into the life of Frassati was a joy, especially as we were able to pray before his tomb at Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. Creating a project that encouraged others to pursue Christ-centered friendships was incredible!

There are far too many memories to choose a single favorite! Some highlights include: hearing Pope Leo XIV give a surprise shoutout to the Summer Academy during his Angelus (which of course called for celebratory gelato by the Pantheon!), listening to an incredible lecture on the history of Christian art by Dr. Liz Lev, swimming in Lake Albano, staying up late with my small group to finalize our video project, and celebrating the final evening at a beautiful reception hosted by the Order of Malta.

The EWTN Summer Academy gave me more than just professional skills; it offered friendships, inspiration, and a renewed sense of mission. I’ll carry the memories and lessons with me for a long time!

Ishmael Adibuah: Our group was so diverse. What was your experience of this diversity, and how did it change your view on the universal Church?

Gigi Duncan: The diversity of our group at the EWTN Summer Academy really opened my eyes to the Church beyond the United States. Last year, I went on a senior pilgrimage to Rome and Italy with some of my closest friends and a priest from my college. That trip first introduced me to the beauty of the Church’s universality—worshipping at the heart of the Church, surrounded by centuries of history and tradition.

Revisiting many of those same places during the Summer Academy, this time alongside people from so many different countries and backgrounds, helped me see the global Church in a whole new light. It wasn’t just about the physical landmarks; it was about the people I was with. Hearing how others live out their faith in completely different cultural contexts deepened my appreciation for the Church’s unity across diversity. It reminded me that the Catholic faith is truly universal: one Body of many members, bound together by the same truth and mission.

What also stood out to me was how different cultural perspectives challenged me to think about the faith in ways I hadn’t before. Conversations around topics like vocations, evangelization, or even parish life were shaped by each person’s unique background, and it pushed me to broaden my view of how the Church lives and moves across the world. It showed me that while truth is unchanging, the way it’s lived out can look beautifully different depending on where you are!

Ishmael Adibuah: What is your experience of the Catholic Church in your country?

Gigi Duncan: My experience of the Catholic Church in the United States has changed significantly over the years. Growing up in New Jersey, most people I knew identified as Catholic, but often only in name. I fell into that same pattern of “cradle Catholicism,” in which my parents emphasized the importance of the Faith, but I didn’t take the time to explore or internalize it for myself.

When I started college at the University of South Carolina and moved to the South, my perspective began to change. Though South Carolina is part of the predominantly Protestant Bible Belt, the Catholic faith here is growing rapidly. Many Catholics have moved from the Northeast, and there are also many converts joining the Church.

In Greenville, where I now live, the Catholic presence is magnetic. The parishes are filled with young families who are deeply committed to the Faith—families who revere the Liturgy, embrace tradition, and live out Catholic values in a very intentional way. Being part of such a community has helped me see the Church not just as a cultural backdrop, but as something alive, compelling, and worth giving my life to!

Ishmael Adibuah: Looking into the future, how will this EWTN Summer Academy experience help you in your work back home?

Gigi Duncan: The EWTN Summer Academy has equipped me with practical skills and a deeper sense of mission that I’ll carry into my work back home! Beyond growing more comfortable with public speaking, the experience taught me how to engage people thoughtfully and compassionately, which is essential for communicating the Faith in today’s world.

Being part of such a diverse group also helped me appreciate the global nature of the Church, inspiring me to approach my work with a broader perspective and an openness to different voices and experiences. This will help me create content that resonates with a wider audience and builds bridges within our Catholic community!

Ultimately, the academy strengthened my commitment to using my talents not just to inform, but to inspire and encourage others in their faith journeys. It has given me the confidence and tools to be a more effective storyteller, as well as an advocate for the Church’s mission wherever I’m called to serve!

I’ll be starting a job this November as a writer with EWTN’s National Catholic Register! Having interned there for Catholic News Agency (CNA) last summer, I am so excited and grateful to return to D.C. and work for the mission that Mother Angelica built from the ground up years ago!

Ishmael Adibuah: What would you like people to know about your country? Culture, food, and places to visit?

Gigi Duncan: I would love people to know that the United States is a wonderful place to grow up and live, full of incredible diversity not just in its people, but also in its landscapes and cultures. From the beaches to the mountains, the countryside to vibrant cities like New York, there’s so much to explore and experience!

I’ve had the unique privilege of living in two very different parts of the country: suburban New Jersey and the mountains in South Carolina. In New Jersey, I was surrounded by family and the fast-paced energy of the Northeast, while in South Carolina, I’ve come to appreciate the slower pace and warm, welcoming hospitality of the South. Both have shaped who I am in different ways and taught me to appreciate the richness of American culture from multiple perspectives.

I come from an Italian family where faith, family, and food are deeply valued! Some of my fondest memories consist of spending time with family down the shore in Cape May, or watching the Jets (they’re not the best team!), and then sharing a big pasta meal after Sunday Mass. These moments of tradition and joy are what make my experience of the U.S. so special.

It’s a country where there’s always something new to discover, whether it’s a place, a culture, or a person—and that sense of endless possibility is something I truly cherish!

This is something I’ve wanted to write for a while.

Last week, the church commemorated one of the most consequential saints in her history: Pope Saint John Paul II. The Polish pontiff is arguably unmatched in his influence on the world and the Church in modern times. He was also one of the greatest influences on my life so far. From him, I and so many other young people have learned to be bold for Christ and to use our talents to bring his gospel to others. In a world full of hatred, division, and almost daily violence, John Paul II’s life stands as both an indictment and a remedy to a world supposedly more free.

For the church, too, John Paul II represents a real vitality to Catholics who believe the church is in decline. It’s understandable why they would feel this way, especially when considering recent statistics on declining vocations, persecutions, low Sunday Mass attendance, et cetera. Polarization within the church has not helped either. Heated debates on doctrine, the liturgy, and church scandals have caused a divide among Catholics that desperately needs healing. In the face of all this, John Paul II represents renewal for the church—a renewal led by young people.

Today, I would like to share how I experienced this renewal during the Jubilee Year of Hope in Rome. I was selected along with over 40 young people from around the world to be part of the EWTN Summer Academy, a program made to develop the talents of young Catholic communicators. My experience in Rome with these amazing people helped me not just to appreciate the diversity of the church, but ways to embrace it for the benefit of all. I will then explain how that experience and the influence of John Paul II inspired me to create this Substack.

My trip to Rome

This was my third trip to Rome in 15 months, having lived there for 6 months in the previous year and visited in April for a conference. I had known about the EWTN Summer Academy for a while and knew some of the staff from last year. I also grew up watching EWTN, founded by the saintly Mother Angelica. While I wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rome’s summer heat (I would experience the worst of it), this was by far my most anticipated trip of the year. It also coincided with the Jubilee of Youth in Rome.

Having landed in Rome, I decided to make a quick stop at Saint Mary Major. There, I venerated the Salus Populi Romani icon (my favorite icon of Mary in Rome) and paid my final respects to Pope Francis, who passed away in April.

After taking a putrid bus and climbing a grueling number of stairs, I reached the venue for the summer academy. I had no time to settle down, however, as the opening mass would start in just 45 minutes. At the Mass, Fr. Michael Baggot, our chaplain, gave a homily reminding us that God wants all to love him freely. We then had a welcome reception, where I would meet the other 40-plus participants for the academy. They were and are all outstanding people, and our next 10 days together would prove to me that the church, notwithstanding all its challenges, IS ALIVE.

A highlight from this experience was the opening mass for the Jubilee of Youth in Saint Peter’s Square at the Vatican. After the mass, Pope Leo XIV made a surprise appearance to greet the thousands of young people who had come. He then powerfully reminded us all of Christ’s mission to be the light of the world and the key to the church’s future. A few days later, he would preside over the closing mass of the Jubilee of Youth with over 1 million people gathered at Rome’s Tor Vergata. While I couldn’t attend the closing mass, I felt a strong sense of my own mission during the opening mass, and it stayed with me as I returned home.

What gives me hope?

What did the participants learn during our 10 days together? We explored the ever-changing Catholic media landscape and how to adapt our talents to it, covering journalism fundamentals like screenwriting, interviewing, and video editing. But more than that, we all experienced the church’s diversity by learning about each other’s cultures. We also had the fortune of learning about journalism from a fantastic group of clergy, Vatican journalists, influencers, thought leaders, and media professionals. It was fun, intense, sweaty, and just so rewarding. And yes, we enjoyed gelato and some beach time.

But what is it about these truly extraordinary people that gives me hope? Why should they give Catholics hope in a world gone mad?

These young people, along with many other young Catholic communicators, are a response to John Paul II’s call for the laity to re-evangelize culture. They do this despite the risk of being misunderstood, mocked, or even shunned. Following his call to not be afraid, they courageously and brilliantly show the world how a Christ-centered life can change the world for the better. They are not afraid to make headlines, whether on Instagram or in news articles, for proposing Catholic culture as relevant in rediscovering what it means to be human.

What it means for me

John Paul II, through his example and teachings, has motivated Catholic youth to give their best in their roles as church communicators. This is one of the reasons I started this Substack. Through writing, interviews, and personal reflections, I aim to share my experience of how Catholicism is transforming culture and revitalizing humanity.

I'm also looking forward to sharing soon the profiles of some of the participants in the EWTN Summer Academy with you. I hope their stories will inspire readers to make a difference in society through their various spheres of influence, especially in the family. They also beautifully showcase the church’s diversity and serve as a reminder to all Catholics that we are closer than we realize and have much to learn from each other.

In an address to the United Nations in 1980, Pope Saint John Paul II said, “Culture is that through which man as man, becomes more man, ‘is’ more, has more access to ‘being’”. In a world marked by indifference and even tolerance of atrocities, his quote is a challenge to Catholics to propose to the world a different way of living. This is not just the work of apologetics, and apologetics is not the focus of this Substack. Rather, Catholics, especially the young, can reshape the world around them by proposing the gospel as the key to a life lived well.

Perhaps our efforts to change culture might not lead to a better world. But it could lead to a more humane one.

Pope Saint John Paul II, pray for us!

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

Today, let us explore the topic of contemplation.

The word contemplation comes from Latin, derived from cum, meaning with, and templum, meaning temple. In ancient Rome, the temple referred to a specific area in the sky where priests, known as augurs, interpreted the will of the gods by observing the flight patterns of birds. The Greek word theōria corresponds to the Latin contemplatio and shares the same meaning. All later uses of the word contemplation, even in religious contexts, have retained an aspect of its Latin root: focused observation.

For Christians, contemplation is often described as a way of “seeing God” through various practices. Holy Scripture emphasizes the importance of contemplation in the relationship between the Christian and God. Sometimes, in Holy Scripture, contemplation was very literal, with many figures in the Old Testament experiencing direct visions of God, e.g., Moses and the Burning Bush. In the New Testament, the revelation of God is embodied in Jesus Christ. As he states in John 14:9, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father…”

In his Summa Theologica, Aquinas writes that it is only through charity that one is motivated to contemplate God. According to Aquinas, our love for God presupposes our knowledge of Him, even if limited. He also states that the contemplative life does not depend on any moral virtue, as contemplation involves resting from external actions to seek God.

Ishmael: Hello, everyone, and welcome to the latest edition of our interview series for Petri Sedem, where we delve into issues surrounding Catholicism, modern culture, and the link between the two. This Substack and podcast is dedicated to and under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope St. John Paul II.

We’re delighted to have your company today for yet another installment. I think you’re going to enjoy our guest. First of all, my name is Ishmael Adibuah, and I’m the editor of the Substack and blog. The Substack is on all major social platforms, and I’ll link those in the show notes below.

My guest today is a member of the vibrant Roman Catholic community of women with a unique and powerful mission: that of being pro-life. They are the Sisters of Life, founded in New York in 1991 by the late Cardinal John O’Connor, Archbishop of New York. In addition to the traditional vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, these sisters take a special fourth vow: to protect and enhance the sacredness of every human life. Their work is built on the core belief that every single person is good, loved, and has a life of deep meaning and purpose.

They live out this mission by serving women who are vulnerable to abortion, giving them the support and resources to choose life, and offering hope and healing to women who have suffered after an abortion.

Here with us today is one of those sisters, Sister Mary Grace SV, who grew up on the shores of Sydney, Australia, where all the kangaroos are. It was there she felt a powerful call to lay down her life to protect others. After earning a degree in theology, she entered the Sisters of Life in 2013. Sister Mary Grace has served in Toronto helping pregnant women and leading healing retreats, and is now part of the community’s evangelization mission, based in Denver. She even co-hosts the popular podcast, Let’s Love.

And I just learned this fact about Australia: it has the most beaches in the world. So, if you’re looking for a summer vacation, it’s the place to be. Sister Mary Grace, welcome.

Sister Mary Grace: I didn’t even know that! That’s great. Cool. Thank you, Ishmael. It’s such a gift. You did a great job; I’m like, you could do this for me.

Ishmael: Well, I didn’t want to give too much away about your vocation story; I wanted to save that for later. It’s great to be with you. So, are you based in Denver or New York? I know the Sisters of Life has operations there.

Sister Mary Grace: Absolutely. I am currently in Denver, Colorado. That’s where our evangelization mission beats from, but our community was, as you mentioned, born and raised in New York City, and most of our direct services to women happen there. We have about eight convents in New York where we have our formation for sisters entering our community. Cardinal O’Connor was the Archbishop of New York when he founded us, so we have a number of convents there that serve women in crisis pregnancies. Most of us are there, but yes, I’m in Denver, Colorado, which is such a gift.

Ishmael: Of course. I’ve never been there. Is there an attraction you’d recommend for someone visiting Denver?

Sister Mary Grace: Oh, absolutely. I mean, there are no kangaroos, but I tell you, the wildlife here… the mountains are absolutely majestic. We go hiking as much as we can. I grew up at sea level, so I’m used to oceans and beaches, but Denver has such majesty in its mountains that it has really awoken a desire in me to be in the woods and up high as often as possible. My family visits me more frequently now that I live in Denver because it’s such a destination. It’s a great place to be.

Ishmael: Of course. I don’t know if that puts Denver ahead of Sydney, Australia, on my list, but…

Sister Mary Grace: Yeah, it’s a hard decision. You’re definitely going to get the beaches in Australia; they’re irreplaceable, really quite amazing. But you’re at sea level there. We’re kind of landlocked here; I haven’t seen much water since being here, but the mountains make up for it, for sure.

Ishmael: I’m sure they do.

Acknowledging a Time of Hurt

Ishmael: Before I get to my first question, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the hurt in the United States over the last couple of days, regarding the school shootings and especially the assassination of Charlie Kirk, the president of Turning Point USA. I want to acknowledge that in our country right now, there is a very volatile and regrettably violent discussion when it involves certain positions.

While, of course, praying for the soul of Charlie Kirk and those children, and for the members of his family—his wife and his two young children—we must acknowledge that the political discourse in the country, and I would say around the world, has become more volatile and violent. This is a reminder to all of us that we can air our differences in a spirited way, but always in a non-violent way. Violence should never be the last resort for voicing a political opinion.

Sister Mary Grace: Absolutely, Ishmael. My heart was absolutely shattered and broken by it. It’s hard to even fathom or have words for these things because they’re shocking. We were on a mission trip in California and were going to speak to elementary school teachers the day after the shootings in Colorado. The following day, we were on a campus with students the day after the passing of Charlie Kirk. We were definitely on the ground and could feel the spiritual and very real ramifications of evil and the effect it has on people.

What was deeply moving was to see people’s response being really drawn to the altar of God. In these moments, without knowing which way to go, the only way is to turn towards the Lord. We were on the Berkeley campus the day after Charlie Kirk passed away, and we had more young women sign up to meet with a sister one-on-one than we do when we go to local Colorado campuses. Hearts were bursting to go somewhere they knew they could be received to talk about this serious stuff and deal with it in a healthy way. Being able to present Christ as the only place to turn to in these days was such a gift. People are running to the Lord, and He’s the only one who can really speak hope and peace into this and make sense of such darkness.

In the mystery of this darkness and evil, we can cling to the cross of our Savior and proclaim that Jesus is Lord and that He has the final say in every one of our stories, even when it ends in tragedy. The resurrection claims the conclusion to that story. So, to be able to come together and pray, and to turn our hearts to God and beg for help, for hope, for conversions, for mercy… it was very poignant, a privilege and a sorrow to be with people, but a gift to be able to turn our hearts together and ask the Lord to take care of each one of us.

Ishmael: Yes, absolutely. And I would add that while there is this deep sense of profound sorrow and hurt, there is an opportunity for all people on both sides of the political spectrum to look inward and see how they can contribute to a culture where differences of opinion are respected. For Christians, especially for Catholics, we can show the world an example of what it means to love. Jesus tells his disciples the night before he dies, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” While it’s really sad, the death of Charlie Kirk and others, it’s an opportunity for all of us to live out that virtue of love that is so needed in the world today.

The Founding of the Sisters of Life

Ishmael: There are many ways to respond to evil, and of course, the evil of abortion. Cardinal John O’Connor, the former Archbishop of New York, founded the Sisters of Life as a response to the rise in abortions and the Supreme Court decisions that legalized them. Could you speak to the origins of the order and how he founded it?

Sister Mary Grace: Yes, absolutely. It’s actually very poignant to think about this right now. The grace to found our community and to devote his entire life to proclaiming the sacredness of every human life actually came at a moment when he came face-to-face with evil. He talks about visiting the Dachau concentration camp for a retreat. He was praying where the ashes of many people who had died there were—Christians, non-Christians, Jews, priests, rabbis, laypeople.

He was praying in the very spot where the ovens were, and he remembered crying out, “Good God, how can people treat each other this way?” He was so confronted by evil. And then he said, in that same hellish place, he received an inspiration and said, “I will spend the rest of my life proclaiming the sacredness of human life.” It literally changed the trajectory of his life and many of ours.

He came back to the US and was very active in the pro-life movement. He took every opportunity to talk about the goodness of every human life—whether it was a woman in a crisis pregnancy, an average pro-lifer, or a woman who suffered an abortion—that goodness is inherent and cannot be taken away. But he noticed that with all the political effort and labor, he could see little results in the culture. That’s when he realized this requires a spiritual response to the spirit of death that is causing human beings to turn against one another.

He realized there are principalities and powers at work in this battle. The enemy loves it when human beings are pitched against each other. So, one of his spiritual responses was, “I want a religious community of women that will lay down their lives so that everybody experiences the truth that their life is a gift and worth being lived.” But he invited the whole culture to consider that. Yes, be involved in efforts, but spiritually, what are you doing? Are you taking another step towards Jesus every single day? It’s only when we believe that truth—that our own life is good—that we can then go and proclaim it and see it in other people.

Ishmael: Absolutely. It’s indicative of a spiritual battle. Cardinal O’Connor’s response was forming this community, but also inviting others to reflect on how they might contribute to a culture of life and real human flourishing.

Sister Mary Grace: Exactly. And just to see God alive and responding—the day after Mr. Kirk passed away, we were on a campus. A sister was sitting on the steps praying, when a young student ran up to her and said, “Sister, are you a Catholic sister?” She said, “Um, yes?” He said, “Sister, I am stuck in a cycle of sin. I’m not treating women with dignity in my life. Am I too far gone?”

Immediately, the sister sat up and said, “Absolutely not. God’s mercy and love are more powerful than the sins you engage in, and it’s not too late to start again.” She walked this young man into the Catholic Campus Center, where he met with a priest and other young men trying to live more virtuous lives. I’m amazed by this. Here is this tragedy, and at the same time, we see in little but powerful ways, the spiritual power of conversion happening. Here is a young man who may have been living a life where he disregards women, experiencing some grace to turn around and say, “Enough is enough of sin in my life.” We see this day in and day out. No matter what darkness is going on, as soon as we open our hearts to God, He doesn’t condemn us. He calls us to life.

A Vocation from Sydney to the Bronx

Ishmael: Jesus tells us He has come to give us life, and life in all its fullness. Your order encourages others to look inward and see how they can contribute to a culture of life, but also leads them to inner conversion. I wanted this to be a segue into your vocation story. It might strike some people as strange that you came all the way from Sydney, Australia, to the US.

Sister Mary Grace: True, I wake up and I’m shocked every morning, too.

Ishmael: I wonder if you could tell us how your vocation got started, all the way from Australia to here in the U.S.

Sister Mary Grace: Absolutely. I’m a living miracle. I did not grow up thinking religious life was part of my plan. I didn’t even know it was possible; I didn’t think normal, sane women were walking away from everything to live this way. I saw nuns singing in Sister Act and The Sound of Music, but that was as far as my exposure had gone. I grew up in a faithful Catholic family, so it wasn’t out of the options; I just didn’t know it was one I’d ever be attracted to.

But when I was 18, the Sisters of Life came to Sydney for World Youth Day. There were about 50 of them. I don’t remember a word they said or what they preached about. But what I do remember was seeing real, normal women alive and in love with Jesus Christ. I had never seen that portrayed so vividly and so humanly before. Here I was, trying to be a professional athlete, wanting to be a journalist, with politics on my schedule. I wanted to do a whole bunch of great things, but when I saw them from a distance, I really encountered Christ in them. I remember thinking, “I don’t have what they have, but I want it. I don’t know Jesus like they know Jesus, but Jesus, I want to know you like they do.”

At that moment, I didn’t experience it as a vocational call. I was just convicted by the God they knew and the God I clearly didn’t. They went back to the US, and I started having a real prayer life for the first time. I started to talk to God, asking Him, “I have plans, but do you have plans for my life? I know you can make me holy, but I don’t know if you can make me happy.” Everything about being a sister looked miserable on paper, but when I looked at these sisters, they were the happiest women I’d ever seen. So I was totally conflicted.

I kept pursuing sports and studies, and worked for campus ministry for three years. But that little spark of fire, which was really planted at my baptism, was resuscitated when I met the sisters. I realized, after a lot of prayer and fears and doubts, that God had created me to belong to Him fully in this world. The more I looked into that, the flame just got irresistibly stronger. To be honest with you, Ishmael, it would have been harder to stay than to follow Jesus to the Bronx. Step by step, He showed me another door, revealing that this was how He created me to love and to give my love to the world.

Happiness, Holiness, and Leaving Home

Ishmael: I want to touch upon something you mentioned. You were asking God, “I know you can make me holy, but can you make me happy?” I feel like that’s a crucial question for anyone discerning a vocation to the priesthood, religious life, or even marriage. We all want happiness, but happiness in the context of holiness is something else entirely.

Sister Mary Grace: I’m so glad you asked, because it was a real battle in my heart. I wasn’t born a nun; I didn’t feel happy about the idea of being one. My experience of greatness and happiness in life was when I was surfing, hanging out with friends, dreaming of my own family, or thinking about representing my country in the Olympics. That was the stuff that made me happy. To think all of that would be excluded from a vocation to religious life was honestly terrifying. I was like, “Jesus, I actually don’t understand how I would be happy if all those things were no longer possibilities.”

That became my discernment. Talking to Jesus about it became the greatest place of intimacy because it was the first time I didn’t only bring my dreams to Jesus, but I also started to talk about my fears. To be honest, in the end, it was my fears that were keeping me from being happy, not my dreams. It was the fact that, until this point, I had kept my fears to myself. In asking these questions, my dreams were coming up, but so were a whole lot of fears. The liberating reality was that Jesus had answers for those fears, too. I only became more and more myself the moment I started to talk to Jesus about my fears, not just my hopes.

Ishmael: I imagine it had its hardships, leaving your whole family behind in Australia. How did you navigate those challenges, and looking back on it all, what can you say about the joys and challenges of religious life?

Sister Mary Grace: Great question. I didn’t stop being a woman when I entered the convent. I actually became more myself. I remember thinking, “Once I enter the convent, all the questioning will end, all the fears will go, and I’ll just be one holy, happy nun.” That was not the case. It was like I entered the convent doors, and God said, “Now we can get to work.”

Thinking about leaving my family was a big question. I love my family so much. I brought it to prayer, hour after hour. I cried a lot about it. Then, finally, the Lord gave me a word that stilled my heart. He communicated the thought, “I’m not asking you to let your family go. I’m asking you to open your heart up and let others in.” That word was powerful. I needed to know I wasn’t neglecting or disregarding them. Rather, it was an invitation for that same love I had for my family; God was inviting me to have for His entire family. It was like, okay, I could take another step forward in trusting Jesus with my family.

And since entering the convent, every day Jesus is saving me. I still have days where I wake up in a bad mood, my own insecurities come up, sins the Lord is still freeing me from. I go to confession weekly because I need it, not because I’m holy. It’s entering into a life where we take Jesus’ title as Savior seriously. The joyful news is that He can help us overcome any evil or darkness we experience. That is the source of my joy every single day. I’ve been in the convent for 13 years now, and every single year, He’s permitted new crosses and new sufferings, but also joys I could not have dreamed of. Joys I could never have written into the plan of my life if I tried. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Ministry in a Culture of Life

Ishmael: When you were discerning, was this pro-life ministry at the forefront of your mind? And now, after 13 years, how have you seen the ministry evolve in the work of the Sisters of Life?

Sister Mary Grace: As a young adult, the pro-life movement was big in my heart. I have three siblings, and my mom had several miscarriages when I was a young girl. I remember being really struck by the sorrow of the siblings I would meet one day in heaven. From a very young age, I had a real sense of the sacredness of the child in the womb and how that life is a gift.

So, when I discovered that young women not only had access to an abortion, but weren’t being given access to the help they needed to carry their pregnancy, that really shook me. I was like, we need to help these moms, not send them to clinics. Abortion doesn’t do good for anyone; it’s the mothers who suffer the most.

Now, when I first met the Sisters of Life, the pro-life message wasn’t what was on my mind. I was really captivated by the person of Jesus Christ. But the charism of the Sisters of Life just pierced me when I heard that they existed so that every other person in the world would have an opportunity to remember the sacredness of their lives—whether they’re an unborn child, a mother in need, a college student questioning their purpose, someone with a chronic illness, or an elderly person feeling alone. When I heard about women laying down their lives so that other people’s lives would be protected and they would be reminded that they are good and their lives matter, I was like, honestly, sign me up. I felt like I was born for this.

One of the main ways we live this out is through prayer. We give our lives to the Lord of Life. We also come alongside women in crisis pregnancies, those who are vulnerable to abortion because the culture often tells them it’s their only choice. That’s simply not true. We listen to them, support them practically, and ultimately, we love them. A woman who knows she’s loved is capable of anything. We also walk with young people on college campuses, helping them remember that their goodness is deeper than their grades or gold medals. And we hold retreats for women of all ages. Finally, we walk with women who have suffered an abortion, helping them believe in the truth that our God is merciful, and there is no sin or place of shame in our lives that cannot be made new. We literally see women come back to life in that mission, and that’s one of the greatest privileges we have.

Ishmael: Earlier, I characterized abortion as evil, and I should qualify that. It is evil because of the profound suffering that comes with it, in the same way murder, extortion, and slavery are evil. These evils in the world call for us Christians, Catholics, and everyone of goodwill to remediate them in one way or another.

Sister Mary Grace: Exactly. It’s the suffering and the impact on people that is evil. But we know the human person never loses their dignity, because it’s sustained by the God of Life. Pope Benedict would say that every human life is the result of an intentional thought of God. I’m not here just because of other people; God wants me here. I’m wanted by God, and my existence is evidence of that. It is good that I exist.

The Work Still to Be Done

Ishmael: Everything changed in 2022 with the Dobbs decision, which left the issue of abortion for the states to decide. While we can acknowledge the progress that has been made on the pro-life front, there’s still work to be done. I was curious if you could speak to that from your perspective.

Sister Mary Grace: A lot changed, and a lot didn’t change, all at the same time. It just affirms how much human hearts are in need of rediscovering the goodness of their lives. We visit Portland, Oregon, which has some of the worst pro-life laws in the country. In terms of pro-life attitudes, it’s one of the darkest states. And yet, when we go, it’s one of the most vibrant mission trips we have. It testifies to the truth that the light is always brighter than the darkness. When we speak there, it is packed with pro-lifers who don’t take it for granted, who are desperate to know how they can live and spread this truth.

It really boils down to the answer each one of us makes: Do I believe my life is a gift and that every human person is sacred? If I believe that, then I will want to live that way. It changes everything—how we engage in politics, how we treat one another in our homes, how we respond to tragedy. The human person is sacred, and we cannot give up on living from that truth first and sharing it in every way possible.

Ishmael: And to express that conviction. In my home state of Michigan, there is still work to be done. It’s left to the states to enact abortion laws, some more permissive, others more restrictive. But we can all grow in and express that conviction that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. Now it’s our time as Christians to really express concretely to those around us what the love of Christ means.

Sister Mary Grace: Absolutely. Not too long ago, I was with a sister outside an abortion clinic, praying. A woman walked up to us, and she was so angry that we were there, angry that we were Catholic. She had a lot to say. My sister and I took her aside and just listened. I remember having to make acts of faith in that moment, like, “I believe this woman is good. I’m going to choose to keep loving her.”

After about 15 minutes, she stopped and said, “Sisters, I’ve had 16 abortions. You are the first people from the church I’ve told who haven’t judged me or told me to stop speaking.” Once she had shared all her suffering and anger, we were able to speak to her about God’s mercy, that it’s still possible for her, that God loves her, and hasn’t given up on her. At the end, she asked how she could seek more healing, and our sisters were able to continue accompanying her.

To me, that’s a constant invitation. It comes back down to one heart at a time, loving the person in front of us. A big word in the pro-life movement that needs to be strongly resuscitated is the truth of God’s merciful love. It is more powerful than any darkness or sin. We always have good news to share.

Finding Hope in Brokenness

Ishmael: With the brokenness in our world, evident from the last couple of days, people are reconsidering the value of religious belief or their own faith journey. Can you speak to how Christians, Catholics, and everyone of goodwill can contribute to a culture where life is valued, differences are respected, and we all see each other for the God-given goodness that we inherently have?

Sister Mary Grace: That’s a great question. In times of tragedy, on a human level, we seem to lose the right words to comfort or make sense of things. Scripture says God never created the human person for death, so when we suffer death or its consequences, something in us revolts against it. It’s shocking, horrible, hard.

But what we do know is that the one person who has gone through that experience of death and shown us life from that place is the person of Jesus Christ. These times can be an opportunity to turn to the presence of God. Even if we’re angry and confused, God can handle that. Not only can He handle it, Jesus Christ has suffered it and is suffering it with us.

I don’t remember any positive words people said to me when I suffered. But I do remember the people who were there. I remember the faces that stood by me. I think now really calls for a radical invitation to be present to one another and to be present to the God who promises He’s present with us. Pray we must. Turn to the God who said, “I have conquered the grave.” He’s the only one who can bring good out of this.

We need to stand by each other and say, “I don’t know how to make sense of this, but we’re going to stay together.” We refuse to give in to violence or acts of anger. Instead, we double up on the opposite: double up on peace, on love, on forgiveness, on mercy. Double up on asking Jesus to take greater control of our lives. “Jesus, I trust in you,” is the only prayer we can pray.

Ishmael: Of course. And I would invite anyone concerned about the violence and suffering in our world to consider the person of Jesus. Here is someone who can identify with human suffering, with what it means to be rejected, humiliated, and to suffer, ultimately dying for our sake. He can be our greatest comfort because He’s been through that as well.

Final Thoughts

Ishmael: I think that’s a good note to round up our interview. But before I let you go, you’ve been here for 13 years. What is your favorite thing about the United States?

Sister Mary Grace: Oh, that’s a tough one. When you ask that question, I just think of all the people that I’ve met here. The sisters I’ve found friends in, the women we get to serve, the young people we get to meet… I just have hundreds of faces before me that I would not have known had I not said one little “yes” to God to follow Him over here. So, I would say it’s definitely the people of this land that have won my heart, for sure.

Ishmael: That’s not going away anytime soon.

Sister Mary Grace: Well, thanks for having me. And know my prayers, and for anyone viewing this, know that we’ll be praying for you and any intentions you have. The Sisters will be carrying it.

Ishmael: Of course. Sister Mary Grace, thank you very much for your time and for your testimony. Hopefully, this invites people not only to a true conversion of heart in this dark culture but to be proponents for a culture of life and to regard humans as made in the image and likeness of God, so we can all treat each other better and strive for a society where each of us flourishes. Thank you so much, and know of my prayers for you and my gratitude to all the Sisters of Life for what you do. It’s amazing.

Sister Mary Grace: Amen. Thank you, Ishmael. God bless you.

Ishmael: Bless you. Take care.

To learn more about the Sisters of Life, please visit the website:

https://sistersoflife.org/

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

This week, let us consider what Aquinas wrote and taught about metaphysics.

One may be forgiven for not really knowing what metaphysics is. It is a philosophical field that can initially appear abstract and complex. The etymology of the word metaphysics comes from two Greek words that, when combined, mean “after physics”. Scholars of Aristotle used the word to categorize his earliest written works, which were dedicated to his first philosophy. Aristotle described this first philosophy as the study of being qua being, or of existing entities insofar as they exist. In short, it is a study of the fundamentals of nature.

Aquinas’ view of metaphysics is generally Aristotelian, with a few modifications. Both Aquinas and Aristotle agree on several common principles, i.e., fundamental truths, regarding existence. One such principle is, of course, the principle of non-contradiction, which states that something cannot both exist and not exist simultaneously. Some other principles they agree on include the principles of causality, potentiality/actuality, teleology (final causality), and substance composition.

However, the key difference between their metaphysical views stems from Aquinas’s Christian background. Consider the principle of the unmoved mover. While Aristotle proposed an unmoved mover that initiates change without itself changing (and attributed to this concept qualities typically reserved for the divine), Aquinas refined this idea, identifying the unmoved mover explicitly as God.

Another example concerns the highest good human beings can achieve. Aristotle believed that this highest good was eudaimonia (happiness in Greek), which can be achieved by living virtuously. Aquinas believed that this highest good can only be achieved by aligning oneself with the moral order established by God.

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

This week, let us consider what Aquinas wrote and taught about predestination.

The topic of predestination is a controversial one for many Christians. For them, it evokes a repulsive idea of God as a deterministic, all-powerful deity who ignores human freedom. It also poses important questions:

• Has God, in his omniscience, already saved some and damned others? Has he assigned some to heaven and others to hell?

• Is free will only an illusion?

• Is predestination Biblical?

Even 1st-century Jewish religious leaders struggled with the implications of predestination. The famous Jewish historian Josephus wrote that the Pharisees and the Essenes held predestination beliefs, whereas the Sadducees rejected them. This topic is also addressed in Christian scripture, notably in Romans 8:28-30, where Saint Paul discusses the divine assistance given to those purposely called by God. Saint Augustine of Hippo also wrote on this issue in response to Pelagianism, which denied the need for grace.

In his Summa Theologica, Saint Thomas Aquinas describes predestination as God’s plan for leading certain human beings to eternal salvation. He argues that this is appropriate because humans cannot earn salvation on their own. Rather, any human disposition towards salvation is a result of predestination, emphasizing the importance of grace. This is echoed in Ephesians 1:4-6, where Saint Paul writes that salvation comes only from God’s grace, a gift made possible through the redemptive work of Jesus Christ.

But does God’s predestination ignore free will? Aquinas writes that God’s choice not to give grace to some, i.e., to reprobate them, does not infringe on their ability to choose good or evil. He does not cause evil, but he knows those who will eventually choose evil and lets them do so.

This begs the question: If God knew who would go to hell, why did he create them?

This is a difficult question to answer, one that touches upon God’s justice and goodness. Aquinas affirms that, strictly speaking, no human being can earn salvation. Rather, it is through his goodness that we can have salvation, for by it, we first came into existence. We did not create ourselves, nor will we attain salvation by ourselves, regardless of what we do.

Aquinas also affirms that it is God’s choice to give his grace to those and not to others. No one is owed this grace. He freely chooses to give it to those who are predestined and freely withholds it from those who are not. However, all people will have the baseline (sufficient) grace to know him and his offer of salvation.

We can find an illustration for this in Christ’s Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard (Matt 20:1-16). In the parable, a landowner hires workers at 9:00 am, 3:00 pm, and 5:00 pm, yet pays them all the same daily wage, regardless of how long they worked. We might find this unfair, but Aquinas teaches that Christ uses this story to illustrate God’s authority to bestow special graces to whomever he wants to. After all, as the parable finishes, does he not have the right to do as he wishes with this grace?

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

This week, let us consider what Aquinas wrote and taught about sin.

Many of us are familiar with the concept of sin, especially within religions of belief in one God. In Western philosophy and literature, sin has often been connected with human suffering and tragedy. Greek philosophers, such as Aristotle, used the term hamartia to describe the tragedy of sin. This word originates from the Greek verb hamartánein, meaning "to miss the mark," specifically in the context of shooting an arrow. In his work Poetics, Aristotle used hamartia to refer to a mistake made by the protagonist that leads to a series of tragic events, ultimately resulting in their downfall.

For Christians, the idea of hamartia can be compared to the Fall of Man. In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve's disobedience to God—eating the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge—was their "missing the mark," leading to their expulsion, hardships, and eventual death.

Saint Thomas Aquinas discusses sin and vice in the Prima Secundæ Partis of his Summa Theologica. In it, he distinguishes the two. He writes that three things oppose virtue: sin, malice, and vice. Sin opposes its goal of good actions, malice opposes its essence of goodness, and vice opposes it in its natural action. For instance, one may steal because they are greedy. Stealing is the sin, while greed is the vice.

According to Aquinas, sins do differ based on their objects. To show this, he references Saint Augustine of Hippo, who wrote that sin is “a word, deed, or desire in opposition to the eternal law.” For instance, lying has the object of falsehood, while stealing has the object of theft.

Aquinas also categorizes sins into venial and mortal sins. According to him, every sin leads to a reduction in natural goodness and warrants some form of punishment, either in this life or in the afterlife.

A Conversation on Gabon: The Founding of an Institute

Ishmael: Hello, and welcome to another episode of Ad Petri Sedem, the blog and podcast where we discuss the link between contemporary culture and Catholicism and how it contributes to real human flourishing. This blog and podcast are under the patronage of Saints Peter and Paul and Pope Saint John Paul II.

I'm very happy to welcome a priest I've known for a while, Canon Alexis Rouquayrol, the rector of the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest's mission in Mouila, Gabon, in Africa: the Mission Sainte-Thérèse.

The Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest is one of many religious orders and Institutes of Apostolic Life dedicated to the extraordinary form of the Roman Rite, the Traditional Latin Mass. A lot of people don't know this, but the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest actually started in Mouila, Africa. It was there that it started; from there, it branched out to Europe and then to America.

So, Canon Rouquayrol is head of the mission there. Canon, welcome.

Canon Rouquayrol: Thank you very much.

Ishmael: To start, could you talk to our listeners about the beginnings of the Institute in Gabon? How did it get started there and branch out from there?

Canon Rouquayrol: We have a beautiful collect in the Mass, I think for the ninth Sunday after Pentecost, where we say that the Providence of God is never wrong. We can see this throughout the history of the Church, but especially in the history of the Institute.

As you know, our founder, Monsignor Gilles Wach, was ordained a priest by Saint John Paul II, along with Canon Mora. They had a spiritual heritage from Cardinal Siri, the Archbishop of Genoa (1946-1987). But how did the Institute end up in Mouila? It was through a providential meeting. At that time, Monsignor Wach was discerning how to do what God wanted, which was the foundation of the Institute. It was difficult for him to find a bishop who would allow this foundation.

But through the Providence of God, he met Monsignor Cyriaque Siméon Obamba, a bishop from Gabon, from the young diocese of Mouila, which was founded in 1958. Bishop Obamba was educated by the Spiritans, the Holy Ghost Fathers, so he was hoping to find missionary priests like the ones he knew before.

So, Monsignor Wach and this bishop came into contact. The idea was to offer the bishop priests the missionary spirit of the traditional rite, and for Monsignor Wach, it was the opportunity to found the Institute. It was allowed, and Monsignor Wach visited the diocese in Mouila. The bishop offered the former episcopal residence for the mission. That is how it started there. The first priests took up residence in the diocese in 1991, with Canon Moreau, who was a deacon at that time.

Ishmael: So, by my count, the Institute has been there for over 30 years.

Canon Rouquayrol: Exactly. We will soon celebrate 35 years of the priests' residency there. It's a testament to God's Providence, of course, and to the work of the Institute and the Latin Mass.

The Charism of the Institute

Ishmael: The Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest is a rather young institute in comparison to others in the Church. For our listeners who are not familiar with your work, who are you? What is your mission and your charism?

Canon Rouquayrol: The Institute of Christ the King is a society of apostolic life. We are a community of secular canons, so we live in dioceses like diocesan priests. Our mission is to help the kingdom of Christ grow. We want to serve the Church in that way.

The contribution of the Institute is really large and varied, depending on the diocese. We have priests involved in youth pastoral work. We have priests serving in jails, as I do. It could be in hospitals or universities. We have priests who are teaching in seminaries or other places. And the Institute has grown. Our founder, Monsignor Wach, is now at the head of not only the Institute but also our sister community, the Adorers of the Royal Heart of Jesus, and our clerical oblates.

Spiritually, our charism is rooted in the heritage of St. Francis de Sales. We follow his way of spiritual direction, helping souls to live and grow in holiness even in a world that is not Christian. We also have the support of St. Thomas Aquinas for our studies and St. Benedict for our community life and the liturgy. As canons, we are meant to serve the altar. Through this charism, Monsignor Wach had the intuition to help the Church bring souls to Jesus through the beauty of the sacraments, especially the Holy Mass, and to develop and protect the liturgy as a gateway to Heaven.

Ishmael: You touched upon the charism of the liturgy. How does the Traditional Latin Mass define your life as priests?

Canon Rouquayrol: The vocation of the priest is to be another Christ—alter Christus. God decided to give his treasures to souls through the poor hands of men, first the Apostles and then their successors, the priests. The liturgy is the way the Church acts as the spouse of Christ. It is not my action; it is Jesus's action. The liturgy is a language of God, given to us in the Incarnation. It is so important. It has beautified the world. When you see the inspiration for the arts—architecture, painting, everything—the most important places in the world have found their inspiration through the liturgy. It's a charism of the Church, which St. Francis de Sales says is a garden with many flowers. The Institute is one of these flowers, contributing first to the glory of God and then to the salvation of souls.

The Mission in Mouila

Ishmael: I wanted to switch gears to the mission itself, the Mission Sainte-Thérèse in Mouila. We've talked about how it got started. What is the work of the mission today, and what is your role as its head?

Canon Rouquayrol: The role of the mission is the role of the Church since the beginning: to help souls become holy and to bring these souls to God. We face many difficulties in Africa—the climate, poor health conditions like malaria, and challenges in education. So, the mission tries to bring people to the faith and helps them practice it by supporting them in their concrete needs.

We do this through our school. A former priest, Canon Fragelli—may God rest his soul—founded the St. Francis de Sales School, which now has 350 children. With the help of Providence, we also opened a boarding school for boys and a small one for girls. We are simply doing what the old missionary priests did before us. We also have a health center. We want to support the families through education and, especially, through the sacraments, with catechism classes to prepare people to receive them.

Ishmael: You brought up Canon Fragelli. For our listeners who may not know of his importance, could you talk about who he was and how he contributed to making the mission what it is today?

Canon Rouquayrol: I knew him well; he arrived at the seminary in the same year as me. He was my big brother in studies. He was from Brazil, but his family moved to the United States. He could speak many languages and was very good with people. God's Providence wanted him to be at the mission. He came to Mouila and started a huge work to restore the mission, because for a few years, we could not have a priest stationed there full-time. Canon Fragelli restarted the mission with wonderful projects, especially the foundation of the school. He had this strength, imagination, and creativity to restore the mission, and now we just continue on the way he paved.

Ishmael: Although Canon Fragelli unfortunately passed away a couple of years ago due to complications with COVID-19, his work is still manifest today in the school you mentioned and the mission's good relationship with the local bishop.

The Church in Africa: Growth and Challenges

Ishmael: This is all a hallmark not just of your mission, but of the Church in Africa in general. The growth of Catholicism in Africa is enormous. And yet, I feel it's a part of the Church that's often overlooked. What would you like our listeners to understand about the Church in Africa?

Canon Rouquayrol: The Church in Africa is a source of strength, especially now, because of demography. Europe is sick; we don't have children in Italy or Spain. But in Africa, it's not the same; the Church is growing. Africa can help our Western world understand what we have lost because of "wokism" and the destruction of the family and the nature of things. You saw this recently, last Christmas, with the discussion around Fiducia Supplicans, and the strong statement from the African bishops to uphold the nature of marriage.

However, we also have to be attentive. I see more and more influence from TikTok and YouTube on young people. There is also the influence of many Protestant sects—what we call "awakened churches"—which are often just constructs around a pastor that pull souls out of the Catholic Church. Recently, we have found a stronger opposition against the Catholic Church than we had before.

Ishmael: Why do you think there is this opposition to the Catholic Church in Africa, despite its growth?

Canon Rouquayrol: You have different kinds of opposition. First, there is the opposition of paganism, witchcraft, voodoo, and occultism, which are still strong. Then you have the influence of Islam. You cannot compare the situation in Gabon, which is very peaceful, to Nigeria or Sudan, where there is terrible persecution of Christians by groups like Boko Haram.

There is also a movement in Africa that wants to protect the "roots" of African traditions. But these traditions can often be the opposite of Christian tradition. For example, to be "traditional" in an African sense might mean practicing polygamy. The Church in Africa is still young, only about two centuries old. This is a source of its strength, but also its weakness, because it doesn't have the same immunity against these forces that Europe has developed over many centuries. We are in a constant spiritual fight.

Future Projects and How to Help

Ishmael: I knew there were two missions in Gabon, but I didn't realize how much you and the apostolate in the capital, Libreville, share ministry.

Canon Rouquayrol: Yes, Libreville is a huge city where half the population of Gabon lives. Mouila is a little city. The community in Libreville is a great support for us, and sometimes we help them by hosting retreats or camps for their community in Mouila.

Ishmael: As we round up, I wanted to discuss the expansion projects you have in mind for the mission moving forward.

Canon Rouquayrol: First, our primary project is to maintain everything we have. The humidity and rain are very hard on the buildings, so it's a permanent fight to maintain the structures and keep water and electricity running. We also want to open a nursery next year to support the families of our teachers and continue adding grades to our school. We also need to finish the boarding school, which is not yet complete.

But the most important project is to build a proper church. The mission has a chapel, but you cannot see it from the street. When you stand in front of the mission, you see the school buildings, but not a church. Our project is to construct a church that will be a shrine to the Infant Jesus. This will help us pray, because we need many prayers to protect the mission and the children who come to us. It is a spiritual fight.

Ishmael: For anyone wondering, "How can I help the mission in Mouila?" Please consider supporting this great work they are doing for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Links to donate will be provided in the article, though they are varied depending on your location.

Canon Rouquayrol, thank you for your time. Please know of my prayers for you and for all the work that you're doing with the mission. I hope to visit one day.

Canon Rouquayrol: Thank you. God bless you.

You can support the Mission Sainte-Thérèse in one of the following ways:

• UNITED STATES: For those in the United States, you can donate by visiting

  Funds for the Missions

  There, you can participate in our donation progra,m Adopt a Student. You can also purchase there the memoir of Canon Henrique Fragelli.

  You can also donate by clicking the link below. Be sure to select St Therese Mission and School.

  Give via ICKSP Website

  Thank you so much for your generosity! May God bless you!

• FRANCE: Pour les donateurs en France souhaitant contribuer, merci d'effectuer votre don sur le compte BNP Paribas de l'ASSOCIATION JEUNES MISSIONNAIRES EN AFRIQUE en précisant "pour la mission de Mouila". Ceci nous permettra d'éviter des frais internationaux. Plus d'informations sur les dons en cliquant sur le lien ci-dessous. Merci !

  ASSOCIATION JEUNES MISSIONNAIRES EN AFRIQUE

  Merci beaucoup pour votre générosité ! Que Dieu vous bénisse tous.

• ESPAÑA: Donantes en España, por favor, realicen su donación a la Fundación Sancta Theresia, en lugar de a la campaña "Adopte un estudiante", para evitar gastos internacionales. Para donar, hagan clic en el siguiente enlace. ¡Gracias!

  Fundación Sancta Theresia

  ¡Muchas gracias por su generosidad! Que Dios los bendiga a todos.

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

Today, let us consider what Aquinas taught about goodness.

“‘Why do you call me good?’ Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone” (Lk 18:19).

This is the response that Jesus gives to the young rich man who asks him about the best way to gain eternal life. It may puzzle us that he refuses the "good” title here. Certainly, Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, is good. However, this dialogue presents important questions for us to consider: What does it mean for humans to be good? What does it mean for God to be good? How can goodness in humans be likened to that of God?

Let us consider these questions in light of Saint Thomas Aquinas’ writings.

Firstly, human goodness. Aquinas discusses this in the First Part of his Summa Theologica, specifically questions 5-6. In it, he writes that our goodness and existence are the same. This is because everything in existence, particularly human beings, has a certain level of perfection, as all things naturally strive for their own perfection. Simply put, we are fundamentally good.

To illustrate, consider a human baby. We would not judge it on its moral goodness. Rather, we would acknowledge that it is good because it exists. No baby is born evil. As that baby grows up, it will naturally strive for its perfection, and then we would evaluate it on its levels of perfection, e.g., moral goodness.

Furthermore, as we discussed in our article on Aquinas’ teachings on justice, God’s goodness is the cause of all existence, including our own. This means that God, because of his goodness, created us as fundamentally good, intending for us to persevere in this state to contemplate him forever in heaven.

The capacity for perfection in creatures necessarily implies a limitation, i.e., an imperfection. However, God, Aquinas writes, is the source of all perfection in creatures, and so all perfections reflect a part of his nature as goodness itself. When we say God is good, we mean that whatever we mean by goodness pre-existed in him in a way we cannot possibly imagine. This is why human goodness cannot be likened to that of God.

Of course, this imperfection in humans reflects a tendency to sin, which has existed since the Fall of Man. Aquinas writes that whenever we sin, we lose our original state of goodness, i.e., the state of grace. He would also write that this state of grace is not regained by practicing the virtues alone, but through God’s grace from the sacraments. Through the sacraments, especially Baptism and Penance, we become good by participating in God’s goodness.

This article was previously published at wherepeteris.com. Click here to access the article there.

Leo XIV is a pope of several notable firsts. He is the first pope born in the United States, the first from North America, and the first to have Peruvian citizenship. Following his predecessor, Pope Francis, he is the second pope in over a century to hail from a religious order, and the first from the Augustinian order. This last point is of particular interest.

Even in these early days of his pontificate, Pope Leo has demonstrated, through such actions as his fraternal visits to Augustinians and his frequent citations of Saint Augustine, just how deeply the fourth-century bishop and Doctor of the Church has shaped his life. However, the former Augustinian Prior General is not the only recent pope to be heavily influenced by Saint Augustine. Pope Benedict XVI, who once referred to himself as “a decided Augustinian,” was also profoundly shaped as a theologian by Augustine, despite not being a member of the Augustinian order.

This Augustinian influence on Pope Benedict was perhaps more obvious in his life as Joseph Ratzinger than during his pontificate. As Father Joseph Ratzinger, he completed his doctoral work in 1953 in Germany with a thesis titled The People and the House of God in Augustine’s Doctrine of the Church. Where Father Prevost’s doctoral thesis in canon law dealt broadly with the pastoral implications of Augustine’s monastic rule, Father Ratzinger’s thesis in theology aimed to present Augustine’s spirituality and ecclesiology as a model for church communion. This ecclesiology of communion would become a hallmark of his career as a theologian.

Augustine’s influence would continue in the lives of Robert Prevost and Joseph Ratzinger as bishops. For Bishop Prevost, this was displayed during his time as a missionary and later a bishop in Peru. For nearly twenty years, he applied the Augustinian ideal of serving the common good to his work with the Peruvian faithful, guiding them through civil unrest, rampant poverty, and a global pandemic. As Archbishop of Munich and later as head of the Congregation (now Dicastery) for the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Ratzinger would bring his Augustinian devotion in service to the universal Church. For instance, he would promote Augustine’s view on the relationship between God and history, an interpretation of all history through the lens of divine revelation.

Augustine, in his masterpiece The City of God, responded to the Sack of Rome by the Visigoths in 410 by arguing that all world events are subject to God’s providence, directing human history towards its eschatological end. In his 1982 book Principles of Catholic Theology, Cardinal Ratzinger argued that the fundamental problem of 20th-century theology was a misunderstanding of this relationship between history and ontology. He wrote:

Is there a continuity of “humanness”? And, if there is, at what point does the mediation of history begin? If we consider this question, which, I believe, expresses the fundamental crisis of our age, from a strictly theological viewpoint as befits our subject, everything seems at first to end in the realization, which almost no one would contest today, that, except in a few passages, the Bible contains no ontological reflection, that it is, in fact, actually antithetical to the Greek mode of ontological thought. If we look more closely, however, we shall soon see that this notion is a superficial one and can do justice neither to the multiplicity of biblical forms nor to the many possible forms in which the ontological question may be stated.

When Cardinal Ratzinger was elected Pope Benedict XVI in 2005, he continued to explore theological questions from Augustine’s framework, particularly regarding love and the convergence of faith and reason. His first encyclical Deus Caritas Est, fittingly on the nature of Christian love, referenced Augustine’s De Trinitate to argue that true charity reflects the Triune God. Perhaps his most notable discourse on faith and reason was his Lectio Magistralis at the University of Regensburg in Germany, where he previously served as dogmatics professor. He said in that lecture:

While we rejoice in the new possibilities open to humanity, we also see the dangers arising from these possibilities and we must ask ourselves how we can overcome them. We will succeed in doing so only if reason and faith come together in a new way, if we overcome the self-imposed limitation of reason to the empirically falsifiable, and if we once more disclose its vast horizons.

This same concern for modern dangers, addressed by Benedict through the philosophical lens of faith and reason, also animates the new pontiff. It is with particular regard to these dangers that Cardinal Prevost chose the name of Leo upon his election as Pope Leo XIV. In his first meeting with the College of Cardinals after his election, he explained that he chose the name Leo in tribute to Pope Leo XIII, who confronted the social challenges of the Industrial Revolution through his landmark encyclical Rerum Novarum, the foundation of modern Catholic social teaching. He has stated repeatedly that modern technological advances, particularly artificial intelligence, must be at the service of the common good. Indeed, this emphasis early on in his pontificate reflects Saint Augustine’s principles of veritas (truth), unitas (unity), and caritas (love).

While it is perhaps still too early to predict what sort of pontificate Pope Leo will have, one can safely predict that it will lean heavily on the influence of his spiritual master, Saint Augustine. And we do not have to look too far into the past to see the influence of this Doctor of Grace on recent pontificates. Pope Benedict XVI’s life and ministry can provide us with an indication of the emphasis of Pope Leo’s magisterium: a magisterium devoted to promoting the relationship between faith and reason, the relationship between God and history, the need to uphold the common good, and the relevance of divine revelation in addressing increasingly complex moral questions.

Hello, and welcome to the next edition of the Thomistic Tuesday series!

Today, let us consider what Aquinas taught about prayer.

Prayer has played a central role in most organized religions throughout history. The etymology of the word prayer comes from the Latin word precaria, which is an adjective for something obtained by petition, particularly to a deity. Prayer can take on many forms: contemplation, sacrifice, ritual/liturgy, rote (memorized) prayers, etc. These practices have endured through modern times, often becoming characteristic of individuals identifying as spiritual but not religious.

Many Christians are familiar with Christ’s teachings on prayer during his public ministry, especially his Sermon on the Mount. Of primary concern to us is Matthew 6:7-8: “

“When you pray, don’t babble on and on as the Gentiles do. They think their prayers are answered merely by repeating their words again and again. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

This prompts a natural question on prayer, particularly when it is petitionary:

“If God knows what I need, why pray? Does it make any difference?”

St. John Damascene gave two definitions of prayer in his treatise De Fide Orthodoxa:

1. Elevation of the mind to God

2. Petition made to God for honest things

St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologica (II-II, 83), aligns with the latter definition.

Regarding the effectiveness of prayer, Aquinas writes that it is a way man participates in God’s governance of the world. He also proposes that just as God anticipates our prayers, he also knows what He will ultimately grant us through them. Thus, prayer is necessary, enabling us to participate in God’s plan for the world.

Aquinas would also write that prayer is a gesture of humility, by which we acknowledge our need for divine providence.

All of this can make someone ask, “Can I change God’s mind through prayer?”

Some scriptural passages suggest that this is possible. For example, it is written in the book of Exodus that Moses changed God’s mind about destroying the Israelites for their sin of worshipping the golden calf (Exo 32:14). But did Moses really change his mind?

St. Thomas Aquinas would respond no. In his Summa Theologica, he writes,

“The will of God is entirely unchangeable. On this point we must consider that to change the will is one thing; to will that certain things should be changed is another. It is possible to will a thing to be done now, and its contrary afterwards; and yet for the will to remain permanently the same: whereas the will would be changed, if one should begin to will what before he had not willed; or cease to will what he had willed before” (ST, 1, 19-7).

What does all this mean for praying to God? We have already mentioned that God knows what we need before we ask him. He knows that he will give us what we need because he already knows we will ultimately ask him for what we need. Put simply, he wants us to ask.

In the case of Moses and the Israelites, God already knew that he would have mercy on them after Moses asked him to. So he did not actually change his mind and never does.

To illustrate, consider God's plan as the perfect script for a movie. In the movie script, he writes a scene in which the main character is in danger because of a powerful drug lord. Another character goes to the drug lord and pleads for the main character’s life. Because of this, the drug lord spares the main character.

Did the other character's pleading change the script? NO.

It was part of the script all along. God, who wrote the script, did not change his mind because of the pleading. He wrote that into the script because He wanted it to be part of the happy outcome.

This is how Aquinas sees prayer to God.

What does this mean for our prayer? As God knows our needs and will always provide for them (Php 4:19), we can be confident that he will provide for our needs after we pray. Prayer does not change him; it changes us. Aquinas teaches us that by this, we humble ourselves before him and participate in his providential plan for the world.

So, in the end, does our prayer to God make a difference?

Aquinas would probably respond, “Yes, but in a far more meaningful, salvific way than what we might think.”