This article was originally published in The Catholic News Herald of the diocese of Charlotte. I recently visited Washington, D.C., and was able to attend Holy Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. With more than 80 chapels and oratories honoring the Blessed Virgin Mary, there is a great deal to see at the basilica. Behind every pillar, around every corner, and every time you look to the ceiling, there is some of the most beautiful sacred artwork found this side of the Atlantic. With such an abundance of beauty and moving imagery inspired by Our Lady, there was one piece in particular that struck me the moment I saw it and which has stayed with me. Descending to the lower level of the basilica, right at the bottom of one set of stairs, is a near-life-sized bronze statue representing the Flight into Egypt. Backed by a large cross shape, the statue depicts the Holy Family at rest during their arduous trek down to Egypt as they fled the wrath of King Herod. In the center, the Virgin Mary sits upon a rock, her head leaning back in exhaustion, the Infant Jesus asleep in her arms. To the left of her, St. Joseph sits on the ground, curled slightly with his head resting on his knees. His bare arm wrapping around his legs shows the defined muscles of a hardworking laborer, a man capable of protecting and defending his young family in that foreign land. On the other side of Mary lies their trusted donkey, looking as ex-hausted and grateful for...

This article was originally published in The Catholic News Herald of the diocese of Charlotte. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.” These opening words to J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” have been inscribed in my mind from my earliest memories. My father used to read the book aloud, long before I could read it myself, and the ideas of hobbits and elves, dragons and dwarves, adventures and heroism, were embedded in my imagination as firmly as my own family history. As I grew older, eventually reading “The Lord of the Rings” and then watching Peter Jackson’s movie adaptations, I fell in love with the world of Middle Earth that Tolkien created in his stories. I found a comfort in Tolkien’s stories unlike anything else I’ve read since; and, as an English major and dedicated bookworm, I’ve read quite a lot. It wasn’t until I came into the Catholic Church when I was in my 20s that I began to really appreciate the deeper qualities of Tolkien’s work that were resonating so powerfully with me, and it wasn’t until I started diving into biographies about him and reading his personal letters that I began to appreciate how his upbringing in the Church influenced so much of his work. A Catholic from his early youth, Tolkien had a sincere and devout faith that infused every aspect of his life, from his marriage and the raising of his children, to his conversations with students and fellow faculty at Oxford, to his writing and the imaginative world to which he dedicated so many...

This article was originally published in The Catholic News Herald of the diocese of Charlotte My favorite way of preparing for Advent the past few years has been to read about and meditate on the Holy Family. Last year, I read the book “Joseph of Nazareth” by Frederico Suarez, and it gave me such a new appreciation for this powerful saint. There is so little that we can know about St. Joseph for certain, but Suarez’s book is a beautiful meditation on what the life and mind of this man must have been. Though no words of his own are recorded in the Gospels, and his passing from this world is left unmentioned, St. Joseph’s significance is clearly testified to in the role that he played as husband to the Virgin Mary and foster father to Jesus. One of the beauties of meditating on the Holy Family is the richness and clarity about what it is that makes a family, which is also meant to mirror for us the love that exists among the Holy Trinity. For God had the power to order His own family exactly as He wished. With the many crises of faith and culture that our world is facing today, there are few examples of what fatherhood truly is, and we are suffering for it as a society. There is no greater example needed than that of St. Joseph. I was in my late 20s when my own father passed away from cancer, and it left a hole that will never be entirely filled again on this side of heaven. There are many life events and experiences that I will not be able to share with him, there is advice...

This article was originally published in The Catholic News Herald of the diocese of Charlotte. Last year, I was blessed to go on a pilgrimage that took me to Munich and the Bavarian forests. We also visited sites in Austria, Slovakia and Hungary, but it was in Bavaria that I felt a sense of coming home; my great-great-grandparents met on the ship coming over to America from different parts of Bavaria, both of them striking out on their own with hopes of miracles and the promises of the New World. Walking the streets of Munich, I was aware that my great-great-grandmother had most likely walked those very same streets at one time or another, perhaps visited and attended Mass at those very same churches. It’s a strange emotion to have such a feeling of familiarity in a place that you have never been before. However, it was in the small town of Altötting in the midst of that country, quiet and fog-shrouded on the day of our visit, where I felt the strong power of God’s grace touch my heart and affect me so strongly that I was moved to tears. The shrine there has been a place of pilgrimage for the past 500 years, ever since a drowned boy was brought back to life when his mother placed him in front of an image of Our Lady. However, I had not heard of the shrine before seeing it on the itinerary for our trip, I did not go with any particular prayer or need of my own, and I was not expecting more than from any of the other sites we would be visiting while abroad. Yet I felt God’s...