Author Archives: jptomey

Because He Lives

For the last several days, and especially on this eve of Easter, I have been reflecting on the significance of tomorrow. As we end our fasting, eat good food, and gather eggs, we can celebrate without giving enough thought to why we are celebrating. Or perhaps we think about it, but the way that we live poorly reflects what Easter means for our lives. If you are a Christian, then you must realize that Easter has changed the trajectory of our lives’ for eternity. Easter is everything.

Matt Maher’s song, Because He Lives (Amen), convey’s this truth so powerfully:

“Amen, Amen. I’m alive, I’m alive, because he lives…let my song join the one that never ends.”

Are we singing along with the unending chorus? Are we living to the tune of eternity? Because Jesus lives everything is different — everything. Every pain is comforted; every hope is realized. We were dead; now we are alive. Are we living fully alive? We were filled with fear; now Peace himself is here to dwell in us. Are we at peace? Our cause for despair is, in the light of his resurrection, now reason to hope. Do we exude hope in this world? Continue reading →

My Reading Challenge Pick for “A Short Story by Flannery O’Conner”

How are you doing on your picks for the 2017 Catholic Reading Challenge? As promised, I’m sharing what I’m reading for each category throughout the year. 

Category: A Short Story by Flannery O’Conner

My Pick: A Good Man is Hard to Find

I’m a Flannery fan girl. I had read the collection of short stories titled Everything that Rises Must Converge, but I had never read A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories. So that was an obvious pick for me.

If you have never read O’Conner, she is jarring — but on purpose. All of her stories have some element of violence in them, which brings about some redemptive purpose or conversion in the character(s). Violence is her path to redemption, because it gets a person’s attention.

In this story, as in many of her others, characters seem to be going about life stuck in a sort of “malaise” (to use Walker Percy’s term). The intentional violent elements serve to wake them up — and wake us (the readers) up too.

O’Conner is not everyone’s cup of tea, and I get that. But I think some people sometimes miss the intentionality of her use of violence in story, therefore, missing the underlying message completely. Her stories don’t fit into a paradigm of “nice Christianity” — a polite, don’t-rock-the-boat, comfortable life with faith as an accessory. No, Flannery’s stories are not nice; but they actually are not tragic and terrible either.

A frequently repeating message throughout her fiction is that there are things much worse than a violent end, and many people live with those things in their mundane daily lives. Her stories turn the paradigm of “nice Christianity” on it’s head. For a violent end that brings with it conversion is actually not a tragedy, but is salvation. For O’Conner, the tragedy is the life lived in the haze of self-sufficient modernity, ignorant of the alternative. When I read Flannery’s short stories, I see her trying to save her characters from themselves, to save us from ourselves, and to save society from itself. Try reading her with that persepective in mind, and see what you take away.

What O’Conner short story did you read for the #2017catholicreadingchallenge? If you are posting your pick on social media, remember to use the hashtag!

Breaking Through the Wall

“I hate Lent!” was the exclamation that came from our almost-six-year-old’s mouth the other night. He was overcome with sudden despair because we denied his plea for dessert. It’s funny that he was being so dramatic; it’s not like this was the first day without sweets. We were three weeks into Lent; but perhaps three weeks was his breaking point.

“I hate Lent!” Ty whimpered. “That’s kind of the point,” my husband replied humorously. I chuckled. Ty didn’t find either of our responses comforting.

I started thinking about the exchange. Ty was “feeling the burn,” so to speak. The spiritual exercise of self-denial wasn’t very novel anymore, and his self-discipline and self-control were waning. For a child, it’s probably equivalent to a weight-lifter at the gym after multiple sets. At the beginning there’s a lot of enthusiasum. The first few reps aren’t bad; they might even feel good. Then fatique sets in…then mental exhaustion, and the thought of one more rep is terrible. Continue reading →