Metamorphosis (Formerly Bible Catholic)

    Javier and María and their three children had fled violence in El Salvador, and had ultimately traveled thousands of miles seeking a better life. I first encountered this family a few years ago, when around 10 p.m. the rectory doorbell rang. It was a police officer. He explained to me that he had a family in the lobby of the police station that had nowhere to go.    I accompanied the police officer to the station where I was introduced to Javier, María, and their three small children. They had literally no where to go. The police officers at the station had been incredibly kind and hospitable, giving this family food and even giving the children crayons and coloring books. My parish had an arrangement with the local St. Vincent de Paul society, to provide temporary housing in a local hotel. And so we were able to arrange for this family to spend a few nights in a hotel while the folks at St. Vincent de Paul went about there difficult task of securing emergency housing and assistanc

    The war comic books in the waiting room of the barber shop had cover prices of 20 or 25 cents. The covers were practically interchangeable. Mostly scenes from WWII. American troops fighting Nazis. The closing page always ended the same way: “War is Hell.”     The elderly man who asked me to visit him in the hospital said the same thing to me: “War is Hell.” He did not ask me there to hear his confession—he had already done that with another priest. He just wanted a conversation.     He was an intelligent, well-read man. Unlike I, his knowledge of the battlefield was more than just comic books and movies. He had been in combat situations more than once; in what he called the unenviable, no-win situation of kill or risk being killed.     This man knew his Catechism. He knew about just war theory and also the right to self-defense, or defense of others. Nevertheless, it weighed heavy upon him. The burden he carried was still great even after a lifetime of Confession and Absolution. It