James Baldwin, Children of Divorce, & Hell

Weekly Notes

Last night, a film crew from the St. Paul Center was here getting footage of one of our very normal dinners with friends. The footage will go into a promotional video for my new cookbook, Around the Catholic Table: 100+ Simple Recipes for Family and Friends (pre-orders start July 29). The SPC marketing team wanted to shoot all this fancy B-roll of me arranging flowers and setting a table, but I told them the extent of my dinner prep these days was shutting doors to bedrooms and yelling at kids to pick up Legos, so could we please just film a regular chaotic dinner? They agreed and hopefully the video makes last night look every bit as chaotic and awesome as it was. Either way, please know that’s the vibe I’m going for with this cookbook. It’s beautiful, but my goal is to help you cook chaotic awesome dinners of your own, not encourage you to spend a lot of time arranging flowers. Unless you love arranging flowers. Then go for it.

In today’s newsletter, I’m answering reader questions, but before I dive into the more substantive ones, let me answer the most important question on your minds: Did we pass our state-mandated lead inspection clearance that finally, at long last, took place this past Monday?

We did!!!!!! It was a miracle. Or an answer to your prayers. Or a testimony to my compulsive cleaning abilities. Maybe all three! The standard for passing was that the concentration of lead dust in the house had to be less than one teaspoon of sugar sprinkled across a football field. Since you can track in more lead dust than that by simply walking into our house from the street, we were sure it would take a dozen tries to pass (at $600 a pop per inspection). We also had been told that almost no one passes on the first try anymore. But somehow, we did. And I can now set this nightmare behind us. Thank you so, so much for all your prayers. And thank you even more to those of you who made it possible for us to cover the exorbitant costs of lead abatement through your subscription to this here newsletter. We literally could not have done it without you.

P.S. Chris and I are looking forward to meeting lots of you tomorrow night in Russia, Ohio. See you at 6:30 p.m. in the Russia School Gym (100 School Street). Reach out to Kathryn Francis if you have any questions about the event.

Question Box

I’ve seen you recommend the writing of James Baldwin. I had never heard of him, but when I looked him up I was a bit hesitant given his openly homosexual lifestyle and support of the gay liberation movement. Do you mind sharing your thoughts on James Baldwin and why you recommend reading him?

I recommend the writing of James Baldwin because he was an incredibly gifted writer and thinker, who wrote powerfully about the evils of racism, the indignities he suffered as a Black man living in the United States prior to the Civil Rights movement, and the dignity of the human person. Few to none of his contemporaries were as skilled as he was at describing the unique struggles of Black men in that time period, while also helping readers see beyond skin color to the shared human heart. If someone wants to understand the struggle of racism that has defined so much of American history, reading James Baldwin is a must. He is a central and irreplaceable voice. No one else does what he does quite the way he does it.

And yes, James Baldwin was a homosexual. Likewise, Thomas Jefferson was a racist. T.S. Eliot was an anti-Semite. And William Shakespeare was a philanderer. I still recommend reading all of them, too. As I do current writers and thinkers like Bari Weiss (lesbian), JK Rowling (pro-abortion), Thomas Chatterton Williams (liberal), and Coleman Hughes (agnostic). Despite the various disagreements I have with each of those writers on various and sundry issues, I think they also have wise and important things to say on other issues. Which, for most normal human beings, is how wisdom shows up—in bits and pieces, scattered across a life. It rarely permeates every corner of our mind or every moment of our days. More often, it has a strong hold on one part of us, and a weak hold on other parts. Recognizing that people can be very wrong about some things and very right on others. isn’t a weakness, as some would have you believe; it’s sanity.

It's also important to who we become as persons and who we are as a people.

If we limit our reading lists to only those who think, believe, and act exactly like we do, then I fear we will soon find ourselves with minds as narrow as those lists. We will have missed out on great works of fiction, foundational works of philosophy, and important works of cultural criticism. More fundamentally, we will have missed out on the chance to grow in in our understanding of why people with whom we disagree believe what they do. And we will have made ourselves less wise, less compassionate, and less empathetic in the process. James Baldwin himself talked about this, noting:

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was Dostoevsky and Dickens who taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected to me with all the people who were alive, or who ever had been alive.”¹

Baldwin became a better man—a wiser, more empathetic, more just man—through reading people entirely unlike himself. That reading definitely didn’t make him a perfect man. But it made him better than he would otherwise have been. Reading Baldwin—and many others with whom I fundamentally disagree or differ—has done the same for me.

That being said, I don’t think your reluctance to dive into the writing of someone so different from yourself is entirely without wisdom. It can be helpful to have some idea of who you are reading and what they are about before you pick up their work. That knowledge can act like a light, illuminating what you’re reading and helping you sort through ideas with keener judgement.

Likewise, your reluctance is hardly novel. It’s totally normal, across cultures and time, for people to struggle to engage with people and ideas different from their own. But up until now, at least to a certain degree, it was difficult for most people to totally avoid encountering differences. Communities were smaller. Family and friends were harder to cut off. News was less easily curated to reflect our own world view. Today, though, ideological isolation is much easier to attain. And that’s not a good thing. As a culture, we are treading in dangerous waters. The more our isolation grows, the more we risk forgetting the humanity of those with whom we disagree —forgetting their hearts, forgetting their souls, forgetting that they too have something to offer us. Many people already have forgotten this. The dehumanization of our enemies—of the difficult or different—is not only becoming increasingly prevalent. It’s also becoming increasingly celebrated. Which is evil.

As Christians, we have to push back against this. Part of that pushing back is reading people like Baldwin. It’s not allowing someone’s struggles or differences to blind us to their other gifts. It’s respecting them as a person, not dismissing them as a problem. And it’s rejoicing in what they do have to offer, while also begging God to have mercy on them and grant them even greater wisdom.

I don’t think the world would be a better place if more people lived the life Baldwin lived. But I do think the world would be a better place if more people read what Baldwin has to say about racism and human dignity. If you’re interested and looking for where to start, maybe try his collection of essays, Notes of a Native Son.

After yet another breakup, I’m realizing that my parents’ divorce may be affecting my ability to find a spouse of my own. Do you know of any resources that might help me think through this in a Catholic way?

I am so sorry you’re struggling. Dating is hard enough these days, just as it is, without the wounds left by your parents’ divorce to work through as well. But yes, I do know of a great resource. Life-Giving Wounds is a faithful Catholic apostolate that ministers to young adults and married couples who are the children of divorced or separated parents. It was founded by Dr. Daniel Meola and his wife, Bethany. I first came across their work years ago, not long after they got started, and have loved seeing their apostolate grow and thrive. The pair co-authored a book back in 2023, and their apostolate hosts events both around the country and online. They also have lots of other terrific resources on their website. I hope you find their work helpful.

If God is a loving Father, how can there be a hell? And how does hell’s existence fit with the parable of the lost sheep?

I’ve written a bit about hell before, so some of this will be a repetition of that, but let’s start with the Parable of the Lost Sheep and what truth about God it conveys.²

For those who might need a refresher on their biblical parables, we hear this particular one in both Matthew 18 and Luke 15. It begins with the Scribes and Pharisees giving Jesus a hard time about hanging out with so many sinners. What kind of holy man, they want to know, keeps company with prostitutes and tax collectors?

Jesus responds by asking:

“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, `Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance,” Luke 15: 4-7).

This parable is about the love God has for each and every one of us. What it tells us is that God’s love is particular, not generic. The shepherd doesn’t love His flock as an idea. He loves every individual sheep, sheep whom he knows by name. Which is why he goes to such great lengths to find that one lost sheep and then rejoices when he finds it. He doesn’t just want a sheep. He wants that particular sheep, the one he knows and loves.

Likewise, it’s not humanity in general that appeals to God. He’s not a philanthropist. He’s a Father, and His love is for Mari … and Emily … and Tom … and every single human person who ever has lived or ever will live. God loves us, you and me, individually and particularly. He loves who we are. He loves our intelligence, our sense of humor, and our ability to run fast. He loves the color of our hair and the arch of our eyebrows. He loves the way we curl into a ball while we sleep and the quirky way we scrunch our nose when we’re sad. Every good gift and desire we have, God loves. Everything about us that makes us wonderfully and beautifully ourselves, God loves. How could He not? After all, those bits and pieces of us were His idea. God thought them all up before time began. Every good and true part of us began as a thought in the mind of God. We are His masterpieces.

Moreover, just as God’s love for us is individual and particular, so too is His desire for us to spend eternity with Him. God doesn’t just want a generic humanity in Heaven with Him. He wants you and me, people He knows and loves. Each of us is His lost sheep. And He has pursued us as faithfully as the good shepherd pursued his sheep. He came into the world for us. He went to the cross for us. And He pursues us still, using all the moments of our life, good and bad, to draw us to Himself. When that pursuit is successful, He rejoices. So does the whole of Heaven.

But the parable of the Good Shepherd, like all parables, has its limits. The good shepherd can put the sheep on his shoulders and haul it back to the flock. But God doesn’t haul us anywhere. Not without our permission. For we are not sheep. Nor does God want us to be. He wants us to be who He created us to be: men and woman, made in His image, who give ourselves in love to Him as He gives Himself in love to us.

Love, however, cannot be compelled. For love to be love, it has to be freely given. Unlike the sheep, we have to choose to go with God. We have to choose to give ourselves to Him. There is no other way. So, God has given us the freedom to make that choice: to love or not love. He has given us the power to say yes or no to Him. Which we do, again and again, every day of our lives.

Very few of us, though, give the same answer consistently. Throughout our lives, most of us say yes and no to God at different times. Every choice we make to do good is a “yes” to Him. Every choice we make to do evil is a “no” to Him. Over time, those choices shape us and remake us. They transform our desires. Ultimately, they determine who we worship: God or ourselves. And, at the end of our life, they lead us to make one final choice: Heaven or Hell. Which is another way of saying God or Not God.

It really is our choice. It’s not God who decides where we spend our eternity. It’s us. We choose everlasting life with Him, which is Heaven. Or we choose everlasting life as far from Him as possible, which is Hell. God’s judgement is simply a confirmation of our free choice. He lets us have what we want most, even if that means He loses us forever.

It seems impossibly stupid that anyone would choose Hell. But people choose it all the time on this earth. Against both reason and sense, we choose to do the very things that make us miserable. The more we make those choices, the more difficult it becomes to choose otherwise. Our reason becomes clouded, our hearts grow hard, and the good becomes repellant. God becomes repellant.

We don’t know how many people ultimately choose eternal separation from God. We hope and pray nobody does. But it seems unlikely that everyone who spent a lifetime preferring Hell to Heaven will change their mind at the very end. Some certainly will. But we humans are creatures of habit, and that’s as true of repentance as it is of anything.

Either way, the sufferings of those who reject God, of those in Hell, aren’t sufferings designed by Him. Dante’s Inferno is not a travelogue; it’s a story. All the images of hell fire, in fiction and in mystical visions, are just that: images. They are metaphors, which convey spiritual truths and are intended to help us understand how painful it is to spend eternity separated from Love Himself. That’s the pain of Hell—not lakes of lava or chains of steel, but being separated from God, not knowing the joy of His love or the peace of His presence. It’s a pain freely chosen and freely inflicted on ourselves. God never wants us to choose it. But God never wants us to choose a lot of what we choose.

I suppose you could question this decision of God’s: to let us choose Him or not Him. You could argue with His desire for our love and say it would be better for Him to simply mandate our obedience. But God is Love. And I don’t think Love could ever abide in His presence anything that is not love. It would be a mockery of Him and us. And it wouldn’t make us happy. It would be an unending misery, a hell all its own.

If you’re looking to read something more about this, I recommend The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis. There, Lewis depicts what this process of choosing Heaven or Hell looks like. It was immensely helpful for me in terms of understanding why and how someone would choose Hell and what Hell really is. I hope it might be helpful for you too.

Five Fast Things

1. This week’s Visitation Sessions is partly a catchup on the Stapletons' mad-cap adventures on tour and partly a discussion of why, with a few exceptions, cutting your parents out of your life for good is not an option for Christians.

2. I finally became a total cliché of a middle-aged woman and hopped on the weighted vest trend, which is actually not a trend in Steubenville AT ALLL, so I look like an utter freak wearing it while doing laps around the neighborhood at 6 in the morning. But I keep telling myself my bones will thank me someday, even if my pride is suffering now. I got this one on a Prime Day sale, and ego aside, I like it a lot. It’s quite comfortable, not too hot, and helping my posture already.

3. If you’re looking for kiddie pools to get your little ones through the dog days of summer, we love ours. Technically, it’s designed for dogs. And it both amuses and annoys my husband that the manufacturers lump kids and dogs into the same marketing pitch. But really, that makes a lot of sense in terms of pools. If a dog can’t destroy it, then the chances of my kids destroying it are reasonably lower. Not non-existent. But reasonably lower. Which is good enough for me.

4. The New York Times ran a story this week called “From Girl Boss to No Boss”, and it’s about the growing numbers of women stepping back from their careers to care for their children (and often work some from home). There is nothing mind-blowingly new in it, but there is plenty of good data on the trend, which might prove useful for those of you interested in such things (which knowing my readership is about 99 percent of you).

5. Massive thanks to

   Christy Isinger
   for sharing the best new recipe I have found in ages: Smitten Kitchen’s Braised Chickpeas with Zucchini and Pesto (and Burrata)! I cannot stress enough how good this was. Even Chris, who does not love chickpeas like I do, was raving about this one. It was just so, so, unbelievably good. I followed the instructions to a “t,” save for throwing in a handful of fresh basil right at the end. We have five actual bushes of basil growing in our garden right now, so I throw fresh basil on just about everything. We also have two massive zucchini plants, so this recipe will be on repeat here for quite a while.

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In Case You Missed It

“Are College Degrees and Motherhood Compatible?”

“The Smells and Bells of Catholicism: On the Proclamation of the Gospel in the Age of AI”

“The Still Point of the Turning World: Finding Christ in the Fire of Suffering”

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1. James Baldwin quoted in an interview with Jane Howard, “Telling Talk from a Negro Writer,” Life Magazine (May 24, 1963), 89.

2. Repurposing here some of what I wrote in December, 2022, in a post entitled, “Suffering, Hell, Confession, and More.”