“…the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen.”
Today the Church in the United States celebrates St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, the first native-born American to be named a saint. Born in 1774 she was born into privilege among the prominent people of New York City. She was not born into a Catholic family, but was raised in a dedicated Episcopal family. The practice of the faith was sustaining for her family and Elizabeth. Which was good, as her story is one of a slow unraveling of privilege, security, and family. Her mother died when Elizabeth was three years old. Her father remarried and her new stepmother introduced Elizabeth into social outreach to the poor and sick as a ministry of the church. But that marriage eventually failed. The stepmother left with her own children as Elizabeth’s father moved to London for further medical studies. Elizabeth entered a time of great darkness in her life, grieving the loss of father and a second mother.
“…the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen.”
Unless you happen to be like my muse, Calvin, in the comic strip, I suspect you are about to make some New Year’s resolutions. How did you do on last year’s resolutions? About the same as the rest of us? One ad hominem wisdom saying defines “insanity” this way: to keep doing the same thing and expect a different result. Perhaps 2021 is a time to consider changing the way resolutions are considered, made, and hopefully, kept. 
One of the great gifts to the Church are the heretics. I use that one-liner in order to grab people’s attention. It mostly generates the question: “what possible good could come from a heretic,” right? The thing about heretics is that they ask great questions, sometimes the critical questions. The problem is they get the wrong answers. They take a road leading away from Truth. And in the beginning it always looks like a promising direction.
