Tag Archives: Christine Valentine-Owsik

Engendering wisdom beyond knowledge

If education’s purpose is to teach us how to think, a Catholic education is necessary for thinking in alignment with God – about one’s unique identity and purpose in this life, proper use of his talents, and the manner of his life-journey toward his ultimate meeting with God. That meeting is life’s most important one, called at a time we least expect.

Christine Valentine-Owsik

Today’s secular educational institutions have abandoned any sense of immutable Truth and reality – even in the natural realm, and replaced them with soft ideologies and ephemeral identity-politics. Reality of God is relegated to mythology. The kids don’t get authentic education, but indoctrination – which doesn’t teach them how to think or even how to learn. Indoctrination pushes thoughtless, baseless conformity for feel-good, popcult rewards. Such group-think is rampant at the most prized secular schools, and with the steepest of price tags.

But a proper education, a good Catholic one, trains the whole person (his intellect and his will), not just his mind alone. And it affords three incredible benefits.

First, it acquaints a student with real, unchanging Truth – about everything from science, to literature, to the study of mankind and of God. A student should realize why he is here on earth, where he is headed, and what the whole of his life means in that regard. Those who keep these in mind throughout life have stronger resolve, and don’t as easily fall prey to anxiety, fear, distraction, and despair.

“When we put truths into our minds, we … live out those truths in our lives. But if we put falsehood and vice into our minds, they [eventually] work themselves out into our lives,” said the late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen.

Second, there’s a correlation of studies in the student’s curriculum, among all branches of knowledge to which he’s exposed. Some courses are more overarching and substantive than others – and the truths of these serve to illuminate the teachings of the lower courses. But everything fits and synergizes.

Third – and of critical import – is the depth, the deepening knowledge a student realizes from his education. This is when he is able to construct a philosophy of life garnered from his learning. His philosophy of life will serve him for life – in times of abundance and hardship, emotional highs and duress, triumph and rejection, camaraderie and loneliness, busy-ness and languish, health and hospice, and ultimately to his last moment.

This is wisdom, which cannot be bought or faked.

Most secularized colleges stress freedom – from tradition, from social mores and morals, from parents, from laws, from anything. But freedom doesn’t comprise truth. Real freedom actually derives from Truth.

“For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding; he stores up sound wisdom for the upright; he is a shield to those who walk in integrity, guarding the paths of justice and preserving the way of his saints” (Prov 2: 6-8).

Isn’t this the education we want for ourselves and our children?

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s editor.

Staying true to our Ultimate Leader

When many of us come to the mature realization that prioritizing our Catholic faith and God’s will for our lives is paramount, we don’t envision the pending fallout.

But the quiet seeds of opposition and pushback await – even among our ranks. As spiritual

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reading expands and prayer life deepens, we naively feel we’re ready for anything. The excitement and intrigue of learning more about God and the faith begun by Christ – perhaps accurately for the first time in our adult lives – blind us to certain potholes that can puncture our resolve.

Life is still comfortable – we’ve got businesses and careers humming along, enjoyable friends professionally and locally, plenty of hometown involvements, and a busy family – even a few grandkids. Heck, life is good.

Why not help more at the parish? RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) – for those converting to Catholicism – had sounded good. Our parish advertised for additional teachers, and the deacon running the program accepted my offer straightaway.

And then…

On the night of my overview of Catholic sacraments and what each means, one of the catechumens asked why the Church doesn’t sanction cohabitation before marriage. “I lived with my husband before marriage, and I don’t feel guilty about it. We just need our marriage blessed in the church,” she decreed. I began to explain, until I was sawed off mid-sentence by the sputtering deacon.

“Oh we don’t worry about that so much these days,” he chattered. “We see all kinds of couples in all kinds of situations.” He chuckled and told her not to sweat it, and said “we’ll get ya through, God embraces all,” and nervously motioned for me to continue on. Say what? 

I sensed he didn’t want me to explain why Catholics should approach marriage in the state of grace – to receive the intended benefit of the sacrament. I studied his expression, now contorted and disturbing. Since I’d just introduced Confession previously, I pulled a fast one and went back to it – reviewing the importance of receiving the Sacrament of Matrimony worthily. Now he was red-faced and scowling. Was this guy for real? 

And then I got it … this class wasn’t about imparting full truth of Catholicism. It was the bring-‘em-on-in-to-the-parish-in-numbers game. Make hard truths softer so they don’t prick sensitivities. And keep things moving. 

But I hung in for years. Every time I presented a provocative topic for which the Church had settled teaching – homosexuality, same-sex ‘marriage,’ gender identity, etc. – the deacon drove a tank through it. He was in greater opposition to Catholic doctrine than those attempting to learn it. One evening, one of the catechumens, a Lutheran attorney, stopped me afterward and said, “What you’re putting forth is interesting and astonishing, yet he won’t let you finish your sentences.” So I distributed detailed multi-page handouts to every person for each lecture, with full text as insurance (including a reading and reference list).

It was tempting to try and get along with him. But I opted for staying on the thinning team of Truth instead.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s editor.

When the soldier is abandoned

In a recent meditation on Christ’s Passion, it became wrenchingly clear that His greatest torments weren’t the excruciating injuries from punches and thorns, His lacerating shoulder wound from the gash of the cross, torso tears from flagellation, or iron spikes plunged through His palms. His greatest sadness was the abandonment and betrayal by those to whom He was closest. He was fighting for their good, and was deserted in turn.

This renders a good soldier’s mission almost insurmountable.

Christ was left alone by 11 of His 12 apostles (two by direct betrayal), and all extended family and home towners except His mother and a few holy women. His mother’s support during His heartbreaking Passion must have been of great comfort to Him. Imagine His relief at seeing her face as He shouldered the crushing cross, exhausted and lampooned. A parent’s affirmation can sustain an inconceivable journey.

We are soldiers on the same mission. What He asks of us, in belief and through our life’s example, is frequently derided and invalidated, not just by nonbelievers – which we’d expect – but by family and friends, colleagues, even other Catholics.

How does it play out? Perhaps like this.

A parish school allows parents to preview an upcoming health presentation for fourth graders, which will include explicit sexual topics. When parents view the production, it’s clear that facets will compromise the innocence of kids; only one or two parents object. The rest go along for fear of appearing paranoid. The objectors are told by teachers they’re “doing their children a disservice,” and kids will be ostracized by classmates if they don’t attend. What’s really at stake – fitting in or safeguarding kids’ purity?

Or this.

In launching a product campaign, a corporate communications team meets with a TV network it hopes to include in its promotions – for possible commercials, sponsorships, and special events.

The network instead puts the client-company on the defensive by insisting the content of the ads and events include language pertinent to LGBT audiences and programming. Without such affirmative language, there will be no deal. The corporation’s Catholic CEO faces a big decision, which will invite flak either way.

Though the century is different, it’s really the same battle. At the end of the day, are we standing with Christ, or taking flight? There’s one Truth – at home, in our parishes, and in business. If we know what it is and deny it or deem it irrelevant, we’re abandoning Christ all over again.

But the good soldier, when he holds to Truth and perseveres through mutating battle, might be ditched by those who can’t tolerate his style. Others may still ‘Kiss Christ’ and profess their love for Him. But it takes graced fortitude, abiding love for Our Savior, and detachment from human reward to engage heroically on His behalf as authentic Catholics, come what may – whether in risk of relationships, profit, or life itself.

The 14th-century Crusade-fighting French knight, Geoffroi de Charny, proclaimed, “No one can excuse himself in bearing arms in a just cause, whether for his lord or for his lineage, or for himself, or for the Holy Church.”

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK  is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

Restoring decorum

Movies from the first half of the 20th century instill an awe for bygone norms — people walking the streets smartly dressed and neatly groomed, greeting others cordially, and exhibiting instinctive social and moral decency. Elders and authorities were honored, children (even as adults) respectful when questioned or corrected — even if unjustly. Okay, so they’re movies, but newsreels from that era show much of the same.

What a radical difference a century makes.

Decorum has taken a nosedive, and the repercussions are toxic. “As the family goes, so goes the nation, and so goes the whole world,” Pope St. John Paul II said in 1986.

At a holiday party about 10 years ago, a guest asked her collegiate daughter a question about school, encouraging her to tell the others how her studies were progressing. Whoops, sinkhole. The girl took a wild turn, slewing vulgarity and curses at her mother for not keeping enough money in the kid’s bank account. Now the “young lady” had the full party’s attention. The mother — not known for reticence — fell silent, feigning normalcy. Then she promised to deposit money the next day. The girl stormed out, slamming the door.


It was like a scene from The Bad Seed. Only worse.

Decorum, ‘close cousin’ to modesty, is an integral virtue for life, and has to be instilled early in the family. Without it, kids will emerge ‘undressed’ for what life inevitably unveils … sparking embarrassing and obscene tirades, early failure, depression, rebellion, depravity, and other destructive act-outs.

In the most difficult moments, a person’s true essence becomes apparent. It’s hard to be temperate, rational, and self-regulated in midst of uncertainty, disappointment, or rejection. But it’s possible with innate discipline and spiritual muscle. It’s what Christ meant when He said “Learn from me for I am meek and humble of heart” (Mat 11:29)— that He could calmly withstand battering humiliation that might defeat even the most stalwart, but He would endure it with grace and fortitude, honoring His Father’s will. We see something similar in certain business situations — when successful executives remain cheerful and circumspect amid staff, investor or media hostility, exposition of personal crises, or publicized downturns. It sets a standard for subordinates.

But parents tolerating open interrogation from their kids, along with vulgarity and profanity, set themselves and their kids up for problems. Some senior professionals — including close friends — who wouldn’t stomach disrespect from their staffs, swallow it from their kids. “I gave my son everything,” one confided. “After he graduated, I gave him a job at my firm. He arrives late, complains, and makes excuses. I took him to lunch to discuss it, and instead he rebuked me in areas where he thinks I fall short as his father.”

If our children are our legacy, investing in their character and propriety will outrank their future stature or wealth. He who disciplines his son will profit by him … and will make his enemies envious. …The father may die, and yet he is not dead, for he has left behind one like himself (Sir 30: 2-4).

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK  is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

A father’s heart next to Christ’s

In a priest’s talk on fatherhood a few years ago, he’d said, “What a father is, his children will become. He will live in their memory, and his legacy will endure in their lives.” Indeed.

For the first time, I connected a father’s love for his children with that of Christ for His flock.

I think often of my father, who at 85 went to eternal life six summers ago. The longer he’s gone, the more we realize how he fortified us for the struggles of life. We still implore him.

Dad was the first to prepare a place for us, our home. It was a daily refuge like no other. “… I go and prepare a place for you … and will take you to myself” (John 14:3).

Respect for Mom was mandatory, or we’d answer imminently to Dad. “… it is a disgrace for children not to respect their mother” (Sir 3:11).

He disciplined us consistently, regardless of others’ opinions. “My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline … for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights” (Prov 3: 11-12).

He personified a tireless work ethic and generosity. An engineer managing heavy construction projects, he drove to the site at 4 a.m., leaving us a fresh coffee, a quick omelet, and our school lunches packed. “The blessings of your father are mighty beyond the blessings of the eternal mountains” (Gen 49:26).

As his only daughter, there was no escaping Dad’s old-world modesty standard. It wasn’t always well-received, like the afternoon I didn’t see him at a traffic light, as I cycled by in my favorite short-shorts. A raucous horn-blast almost sent me over the handlebars, followed by his command to get home and change. “A daughter keeps her father secretly wakeful, and worry over her robs him of sleep” (Sir 42:9).

He inspired us with everyday closeness to God. Dad would leave the job site at 6 a.m. for daily Mass, then return to work for a long day. He kept his Roman Missal and Pocket Summa in the car, and rosary in his pocket. “And the Lord your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your offspring, so that you will love Him with all your heart and with all your soul, that you may live” (Deut 30:6).

The sweetest recollections were of bringing him our failures and humiliations. That’s when we took great solace in Dad as our port in the world’s storms. He consoled, forgave and reaffirmed us. “… while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20).

Caring for him in old age was a small return for his gifts of a lifetime. “… help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives” (Sir 3:12).

His sacrifices were many, like encouraging my discordant piano practicing, and my brother’s jarring drum solos. He didn’t leave home or lose himself in hobbies. Dad’s favorite pastime was us.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK  is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

Late bloom in Mary’s garden

For many of us, life can take on a faded pallor in the absence of our moms. But there’s one lesson Mom imbued well – never forget the rosary. Pray it, no matter what. There’s no protection, intercession, and advocating like Mary’s.

Did we take it to heart? Not so much. We saw Mom as a zealot without the social calendar we had. She insisted we say the rosary as a family before dinner. My brother and I would glare at each other, eying the chilling meat and vegetables, like they were slow-torturing us. We’d bark the repetitions, stare at the ceiling, and sigh obnoxiously when it was finished. In hindsight, I realize that we hurt our mother, and we hurt Our Lady. But like the best Mother, she would patiently await our maturity… even if it might take decades.

Thankfully, those seeds ran deep and have re-germinated after Mom and Dad have gone.

Now to be fair, we were immersed in the ‘70s lifeis-good attitude in the Church, where devotions like the rosary were often shelved. They didn’t fit our demeanor, Motown cars, and bell bottoms. We went to Doobie Brothers concerts and the guitar Mass on Sundays. No rosaries there.

And we didn’t get strong foundational teaching on the rosary, even in Catholic school – like why the rosary exists, where it came from, and why it is so supernaturally remarkable. We just thought Mom and Dad were like cultish European streetprocessors, trying to turn us into fanatics. When friends knocked at the door, we’d grab the ministatues, prayer books, and rosaries, ram them into a drawer, and run straight out.

We escaped all right … not yet seeing the abyss.

Lesson time. We enrolled our eldest in the parish school, and in first grade he came home with a reminder. “Look, Mommy; we made rosaries,” he said, pulling the blue-crystal strand from his pencil case. “Would you say it with me?” It had been 15 years since I’d said a rosary, and had forgotten entirely. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” he continued, “we have rosary booklets, too.”

I thumbed through, struck by the meditations and gorgeous art-renderings of Christ’s face, Mary as mother, and the Holy Family. I was heartsick … it came flooding back, those evenings praying as a family. He watched me with his wide brown eyes, waiting.

God lets our children rework our heart when it needs some reconstruction. And so I began again.

I read St. Louis de Montfort’s The Secret of the Rosary and other books, and realized my parents were right-on – there are amazing promises from Our Mother on her rosary. I researched her 13th-century apparitions to St. Dominic, why she introduced him to the rosary, and her promises for each person, the Church, and the world. So incredible was this protective Mother whom Christ has gifted to us.

The rosary has reordered my daily life. It’s the greatest anti-stress treatment, and my appeals are often answered before I put them into words. ‘Bring flowers of the rarest’ to our sweet Heavenly Mother. And a rosary in gratitude for our incredible mom.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK  is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

Party of human respect

The inclination toward human respect – to be well-regarded by others – starts as soon as we’re conscious of social order, probably after infancy. But it can become dangerous quicksand upon which to make real assessments. Like many enticing mirages of life, just when we think there’s predictable stature, it proves defective and fickle, never really there … ultimately swallowing everything in its vortex.

Christine Valentine-Owsik

Lessons in human respect are never easy. And many of us get our first smack-downs while still young.

In sophomore year of high school in the late 70s, I hatched the horrifying idea to ask a popular senior football player to our formal class dance. He had David Cassidy hair and arresting blue eyes, with All-Catholic team awards to feed his prowess. He was at all the right parties, and barely recognized me at the bus stop.

I was at none of those parties, clumsy athletically, and only played tennis. I did unpopular other things – studied piano, worked to make honor roll, and wrote for the school paper. But I longed to sample that “other” crowd, even for just this dance. They spent lots of time carousing at the Jersey Shore, having great unchaperoned fun – while we had hell to pay for coming in 10 minutes late, or not putting gas in Mom’s station wagon.

Time to make the dreaded call. I dialed his number scores of times before forgetting to hang up. Terrifyingly it rang, as my heart crashed like a timpani drum. His mother answered and passed him the phone. Sputtering the invitation, I heard nothing. He hesitated, then sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.” He didn’t ask the date or details, just hung up. I should have been insulted, but was euphoric.

I was getting in over my head. Ignoring instinct, I told my friends the next day. Then, like a tsunami, the alpha party girls rushed me at lunch. “He would have gone with anybody – he’s just a nice guy.” He is? For months I was assaulted with their putdowns. But I made my dress, disregarding all signs of blunder.

“What parties are we going to?” he muttered the week of the dance. He expected cool gigs as part of the deal. A scary new predicament: I wasn’t invited to any. The night of the thing, he arrived late with another couple in the car, forgot my flowers, and had to contend with my father. After chastising him, Dad took a few pictures and told him when to have me home. It went from bad to worse. He didn’t talk, drank a trunk-load of beer, and hardly danced. I fought hot tears for hours.

I was out of my element, and longed to be back at home. Isn’t much of life like this? We compromise self-respect for illusory ideals … and it all becomes crushingly clear.

Fast-forward to another guy from high school whom I married, Joe — with tropical blue eyes, All-Catholic athleticism, sacrificial gentleman to the end. It was his idea to care for Dad in the twilight of his life. He embodied real respect, and I’ve appreciated the blessing to this day.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

When Truth is crucified

As America tries to assimilate another school shooting in Florida, the uncomfortable question is: why wouldn’t such things happen when education and social structures teach that truth and morality are fluid? Who dictates what is right, wrong, tolerated or not? Someone could claim logical reasons for it, such as anger, retaliation, depression, or under privilege.

Christine Valentine-Owsik

But killing people at random is wrong, we say. Says who?

Modernity has deemed it a choice to take certain lives – pre-born, defective, diseased, elderly, unproductive, or dying. Why not other lives?

Society is at its desperation point, because it cannot agree on truth anymore. What’s worse, there’s no consistent agreement on consequence when laws (once based on agreed-upon truth) are violated. Do perpetrators get punished — or affirmed?

“There is no love – no charity – without truth, just as there is no real mercy separated from a framework of justice informed and guided by truth,” said Archbishop Charles J. Chaput of Philadelphia a few weeks ago in his CatholicPhilly.com column, “Charity, clarity, and their opposite.”

Truth is conformity of the mind with reality, St. Thomas Aquinas says in his SummaTheologica. Then who determines reality, and establishes norms for conformity and behavior, and delineations of infraction and injustice?

For order to reign interiorly and societally there must exist objective, unchangeable Truth in reality. And there Is.

But this Truth has long since been banished from some churches, schools (even certain Catholic ones), workplaces, family gatherings, and other settings. So why would people assent to it?

Pontius Pilate didn’t recognize Truth, either, even when it stood right in front of him. Against his own judgment, he permitted condemnation of an Innocent – to please the crowd (Mark 15:15).

Pilate capitulated to human respect and political ambition. He crucified Truth.

And so it goes. Truth is subjugated to man’s whim.

About 35 years ago in an early-morning college class, our elderly anthropology professor interrupted his lecture, commanding a student to “take the superstition off” around her neck. She dropped her pen and hesitated, as she fingered the gold crucifix. In disbelief she glared at him. “I mean it!” he screeched bizarrely. “None of that will be tolerated in this class!” And she complied.

My pulse raged as my throat burned. I wanted to defend her, but didn’t know how. An aspiring journalism student, and I couldn’t muster a word.

For years, I carried the shame of my silence like a hot coal.

There’s a high price for asserting Truth— especially amid punishing opposition – but a higher price for remaining silent. Today’s confused society is living proof. “No truth can really exist apart from Christianity,” said Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman.

It comes down to whether we will accept the risk in persevering for that Truth.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s Editor.

Why marry in the church?

Today, only 25 percent of those identifying as “Catholic” marry sacramentally in the Catholic Church. And within that segment, many don’t attend Mass, catechize their own children, or embrace spiritual order. Other adult Catholics who were raised in the faith, even married in the Church, concede to their kids skipping the sacrament of Holy Matrimony altogether in favor of indulgent alternatives. Education, comfort and opportunity have brought society a long way. But to where?

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The reason for sheltering marriage under the protective wing of Christ has been largely forgotten. Today, the divorce rate among Catholics is indistinguishable from society at large.

Except in a little nondescript town near Croatia – where there are no marriage breakups. A priest recently relayed their story in a sermon.

“The Cross of Christ has a special place in that town,” he said. “When a Catholic couple there stands at the altar to be married, the priest tells them ‘you have found your cross.’” The couple brings a special crucifix to the ceremony, the priest blesses it, and they keep both their hands upon it. They promise to be faithful to God and the precepts of the Church. They conclude by kissing the cross – not each other. Bringing the same crucifix back to their home, they give it a place of honor from that day on, to remember to go before Jesus for help with any problem.

Catholics have historically approached the sacrament of Holy Matrimony in earnest, vowed to embrace God’s will for their life and its direction, accept children willingly, and persevere through good times and bad. They couldn’t know all that might lie ahead, but they committed and trusted in God’s fortification.

He had good reason to create the First Couple in complementarity – male and female – and to validate their purpose from the beginning. “… male and female he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth…’” (Gen 1: 27-28). At the wedding feast of Cana, the bride and groom invited Christ and His mother as honored witnesses – and were helped immediately – even miraculously – in their need before thinking to ask their esteemed Guest for it (John 2: 1-12).

This circles back to why marrying in the Church makes an interminable difference.

If man’s purpose is to align with God, bring others to Him, and live happily with Him in eternity, God will certainly assist spouses along their journey if He’s invited. Numerous studies over recent decades have shown that among the happiest and least-stressed of people are those who pray regularly and practice their Christian faith.

In Catholic faith-practice, Holy Matrimony is vital for a reason. Christ anticipates spouses’ need for His special grace and intervention – for themselves, and in raising their children. Through sacramental marriage, He blesses them. And when each remains faithful to Him, He channels what is needed, in good times and in bad, spiritually and temporally.

The Lord’s is the most important wedding invitation, and His gift is beyond compare.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s Editor.


We each build our own bridge

It has been said that death is the most important thing in life. How we die – the state of our soul at that critical instant, and the moral choices that affect it – is the only thing we can ultimately control. Everything else in life – worldly successes and failures, reputation, vocation, family, health, business, friendships – is not fully in our grasp to engineer exactly as we want.

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The beginning of each year dazzles with new possibilities. New ventures are sought, relationships pursued, improvements planned, so much beckons on the horizon.

It can be a shame to confuse distraction with destination.

When St. Thomas More was approached shortly before his beheading by those encouraging him to acquiesce to King Henry VIII’s demands for a sanctioned divorce and pretend to set aside his deference to Catholic teaching, Thomas simply said: “The way we die is in our own hands.”

Our purpose is to be ready for that heroic moment. The second our soul departs our body, we are met by God on how we handled what He taught and provided us, then are awarded our eternal destiny. And even though He is the final arbiter, we had a lifetime to affect the decision.

It begs the question on how we spend our time and resources, and what comprises top priority. Life can be short or long, well lived or not, valued or cheapened, taken seriously or flippantly.

On a recent morning after Mass, I watched two trench-coated men enter the church to arrange for a funeral. They set up two easels for holding picture-boards of the deceased, whom I saw was a striking young man in his 20s, about the age of my sons … handsome, athletic, with a pretty girlfriend, plenty of social life, everything seemingly going for him. I slid closer to study the photos – he attended a prominent college, had a nice car, and there seemed to be many good times and parties. Life was good.

Then the funeral director placed a small burnished urn on a table between two tall sprays of lilies. Wow, and there he is. I wondered what happened to him, and asked the usher. “He was in a horrible car accident a few nights ago, several were killed instantly.”

His attractive parents walked to the front of church, stunned and tearful. His mom looked at the urn and deftly reordered the flowers, then put both hands over her face and shook. The stark reality of death – like being burned in a fire – peels away layers of protective artifice to reveal our raw longing to know what happens after this life.

“Death is nothing to be feared when we keep ourselves always prepared,” a priest once told me. I’d never thought of it like that, but began to. “Live every day, every hour, like it may be your last,” he advised.

St. Alphonsus Liguori, one of the great doctors of the church, said “time is as valuable as God Himself.” Our soul is our most valuable asset – it’s our bridge to eternity. How we invest in it and preserve its worth is our most important ongoing decision.

CHRISTINE VALENTINE-OWSIK is Legatus magazine’s Editor.